The campus bad boy posted on the Wall, asking who stole his boxers. The comments section exploded with laughter, but I just stared at the fabric in my hand, my mind blank. Lace trim. Pure black. Embroidered with his initials. Every single detail matched. My first instinct was to pretend nothing happened. But as more and more of his underwear inexplicably appeared in my possession, a cold knot of panic began to form in my stomach. Then he lost his temper for real, ranting online about having nothing left to wear. The panic turned into pure terror. This was the campus bad boy we were talking about. 1 You’re probably not going to believe this. Within a fifteen-foot radius, I can control things with my mind. That includes, but is not limited to, unlocking deadbolted doors, levitating heavy objects, and summoning things from across a room. But I have a really, really bad habit: I sleepwalk. I never thought it was a big deal. Not until last Sunday, when I woke up clutching a stranger’s thermos. That’s when I knew something was wrong. Ever since that day, I’ve woken up every single morning with something that doesn’t belong to me in my hand. A pen. A tie. A men’s hoodie. A notebook filled with lecture notes… To be more precise, things belonging to a strange guy. And today? Today, I woke up holding a pair of black, lace-trimmed boxer briefs. Damn. A little… extra, aren’t they? By now, I was used to it. I shoved them into the bottom of my junk box, burying them under a stack of folders that had also mysteriously appeared on a previous nocturnal adventure. No 8 AM class today. After washing up, I flopped onto my bed, propped my legs up, and started scrolling through my phone. That’s when I saw the lost-and-found post on the Campus Wall. My blood ran cold. JASON CARTER: Okay, which one of you sickos stole my boxers?! This has happened WAY too many times! The thermos, the pens, I let that slide. But my underwear? What kind of creep are you?! I thought maybe the wind blew them off the line, but I checked everywhere. If you find a pair of black, lace-trimmed boxers with the initials J.C. embroidered on them, please return them to Dorm 6, Room 416. Generous reward offered. And if some freak is doing this on purpose… I’m warning you. Get your ass to Room 416, kneel at my feet, and beg for forgiveness before you return my shit. Otherwise, you’re gonna find out what happens next. FFS, the more I think about it, the angrier I get. You absolute weirdo! P.S. Not anonymous. Thanks, Wall. My pupils dilated. The profile picture, the initials… it wasn’t hard to figure out that J.C. was the infamous campus bad boy, Jason Carter. With trembling hands, I dug out the boxers I had literally buried at the bottom of the box. I checked again. Black. Lace trim. Embroidered with the letters J.C. Yep. He was talking about me. Me, the adorable little pervert. Shaking, I clicked into the comments on his post, my heart hammering against my ribs. “LMAOOOO is this for real?!” “New copypasta just dropped. Sending this to my friends tomorrow.” “What the hell, who steals that?” “The world is now made of three types of people: the sad man who lost his boxers, the pervert who’s about to get their ass kicked, and me, happily eating popcorn and watching the drama unfold.” “All talk and no action, Jason? Just find the guy and beat him up already.” “Black lace? I don’t believe you. Send a pic or it didn’t happen ;)” “Seriously though, that’s disgusting. If it were me, I’d slap that creep silly.” “So gross. Please kick the perv’s ass for us.” “And he’s a repeat offender too. Wow, all those years of education really produced a class act.” “Thanks for taking out the trash, Jason! Leave him half-dead!” I was scared. Genuinely, truly scared. I racked my brain, trying to figure out how to avoid a one-sided beatdown. I couldn’t just walk into the men’s dorm, and going straight to Jason felt like volunteering for a concussion. Then, a brilliant idea struck me. All I had to do was hold onto the boxers before I went to sleep tonight, and my sleepwalking self could just put them back! If I could take his things while sleepwalking, surely I could return them, right? I decided to do it. To make sure I didn’t forget, I even put a reminder in my phone. 2 The next morning, I stared in silence at the two pairs of boxers in my hand. …So, I can’t put them back, but I can take more? Is that how this works? Clearly, that plan was a bust. The third day, I woke up with another pair. Oh, for God’s sake. Do they multiply if you put them together? Is that what was happening? On the fourth day, another pair. This one was different, though. It was crisp, barely creased, like it had just been bought. The fifth morning, clutching the brand-new pair, I stared at Jason’s latest post on the Wall and started seriously planning where I could hide for the rest of the semester. This time, he just posted a screenshot of a group chat. He’d clearly reached his breaking point. He was threatening to gouge out my eyes, kick me where it counts, and rip out my guts. He also said that if the thief was any kind of man, they’d meet him in front of the gym tonight at eight. I’ve spent nineteen years carefully cultivating my continued existence. This kind of talk was way above my pay grade. Besides… I’m not a man! 3 Crushed by guilt and a profound sense of self-preservation, I packed up the junk box, arranging all his belongings neatly inside. I was hoping for some brownie points, maybe he wouldn’t hit me quite so hard. My roommate, Chloe, watched my shady preparations with a raised eyebrow. “Dressed in all black at night? Are you trying to get hit by a car?” “Don’t say that! Can’t you be more positive?” “And what’s with the box? Going on a treasure hunt?” “You wouldn’t understand.” You wouldn’t understand that I’m going to atone for my sins. I even tucked a hundred-dollar bill in the box as a peace offering. The area outside the gym was packed. A sea of people swirled around the entrance. I glanced at my watch—7:50 PM. I squeezed my way through a few rows of people but couldn’t get any further. I tapped the guy in front of me on the shoulder. “Hey, what’s going on? Why is everyone here?” “You didn’t see the Campus Wall? They’re catching the perv! I got here at six and this was the best spot I could get!” he said, his eyes glued to the gym doors. “There were guys scalping front-row spots earlier. Fifty bucks. I tried to haggle, and now they’re a hundred and fifty! Should’ve just paid the fifty.” “…Thanks,” I mumbled. I took one look at the massive, expectant crowd and my courage evaporated. I turned around and sprinted back to my dorm. I just couldn’t do it. The humiliation would kill me. I’d have to try my sleepwalking-return plan one more time. Since I was a no-show, Jason completely lost it on the Wall again. It was just a barrage of angry, censored chat logs, probably full of every curse word imaginable. The post made me so anxious I couldn’t fall asleep until two in the morning. When I woke up, I wasn’t in my own dorm. I was in a strange bed. I lifted a hand. Another new pair of boxers. But there was good news: my other hand was clutching the older pairs! Hahahaha! Finally! It worked! My plan finally worked! Wait a minute. If my plan worked, why was I in a strange bed? Logically, I should have woken up back in my own room, right? The sound of male voices came from outside the door. “Jason, I don’t think the thief is gonna show. We’ve been watching the door all night. Not a single peep.” “Yeah, man, my eyelids are starting to fight each other. I’m dead tired.” A familiar voice, rough with exhaustion, replied. “Thanks for staying up, guys. I know you’ve got that 8 AM.” “No sweat. We just wanted to see the show.” “Seriously, it wasn’t just us. Did you see the guys from the next dorm over? They dragged their desk chairs into the hallway to wait for the perv.” “…” The footsteps grew closer. Without thinking, I dove under the covers, pulling them over my head. Oh holy mother of God, please don’t let them find me here… My silent prayer was cut short as the blanket was ripped away. Before he could scream, I slapped a hand over his mouth. With a flick of my wrist, my power slammed the bed curtain shut, cocooning us in darkness. I brought my other finger to my lips. “Please,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t tell anyone I’m here.” Getting caught in the men’s dorm was a one-way ticket to academic probation. I could see the pure shock in his eyes. I pulled out the two handfuls of boxers and thrust them at him. “…These are yours. I’m giving them back.” “And this one, too. The one with your name on it.” His shocked expression deepened into utter bewilderment. I tried to sound reasonable. “Jason… look, I can explain all of this.” A voice called from the other side of the curtain. “Yo, Jason, what are you doing up on your bunk?” “Hurry up and get dressed, man. We’re gonna be late for class, and you know how fast the good seats go.” I flinched, slowly removing my hand from his mouth. I gave him a pleading look. “Don’t say anything. Please…” 4 He stared at me, his eyes filled with suspicion. I quickly pressed my hands together in a prayer-like gesture. Please, I just want to graduate in one piece. After a few tense seconds, he turned and climbed down the ladder. “You guys go on ahead and save me a seat. I’ll be right there.” Phew… thank God. “Dude, are you serious? Professor Miller is super strict about attendance.” He tapped his phone. “Already paid a guy to sit in for me. Just to save the spot.” “Alright. Well, hurry up.” “Yeah.” The moment I heard the dorm room door click shut, I dared to peek through the curtain. Our eyes met. I awkwardly pulled the collar of my pajamas higher and offered him a weak smile. “So… all that other stuff, the notebook, the thermos… was that all yours, too?” I’d sleep-stolen so much stuff, I wasn’t even sure if it all belonged to one person. “You stole it, and you don’t even know what you took?” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. “Well, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure about everything,” I admitted. Then a thought occurred to me. “But the boxers, I’m pretty sure those were all yours. The timeline of your posts on the Wall matched up perfectly with when I… acquired them.” He muttered a curse under his breath. “Get down.” I froze. “But you have to believe me! I really didn’t do it on purpose!” He ran a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “Just get the hell down here, now.” “And stop sleeping in my bed.” My heart was doing a drum solo against my ribs. He was terrifying. “Now. Do you not understand English?” God, he’s so intimidating. “Coming! I’m coming down!” I scrambled down the ladder and stood before him, fidgeting with my fingers and occasionally darting a glance up at his face. Having this effortlessly cool, handsome guy standing right in front of me was nerve-wracking enough on its own. I usually gave guys like him a wide berth. But this one? I’d stolen a mountain of his personal belongings. I was so, so guilty. He crossed his arms, looking down at me with an expression of pure disbelief. “You know,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “you didn’t leave me a single pair.” “I’d get a new pack from Amazon, and they’d be gone the next day. Your speed is impressive. You’d give Usain Bolt a run for his money.” “I get it when girls collect dolls or mugs or whatever.” I looked up and saw the utter bewilderment on his face. “But isn’t your collecting habit a little… twisted?” “And you specifically target other people’s stuff.” “Are you broke, or do you just think my used boxers smell better?” My face flushed crimson. “No! It’s really not like that!” He kicked a chair out, hooking it with his foot, and sat down in front of me. “Fine. Explain. I’m listening.” The whole superpower thing was even more unbelievable than the sleepwalking, but I figured a demonstration was my best bet. “Okay… watch closely.” “And whatever you do… don’t blink.” I held out my hand, and with a surge of focus, the boxers on his bed zipped through the air and landed squarely in my palm. He shot to his feet, snatching them back. “Jesus Christ! You don’t have to rub it in my face by stealing them right in front of me!” “What? No!” Now I was getting flustered. “Didn’t you see that? I just held out my hand and—whoosh—your stuff flew right into it!” I leaned in closer. After a quick scan of the empty room, I stood on my toes and whispered in his ear. “I have… special abilities. You know, like superpowers.” “To put it simply, I can control things with my mind.” He was silent for a moment. Then he reached out and pressed a single finger against my forehead, pushing me away. “You’re a real piece of work.” “No, seriously!” I pleaded, terrified he wouldn’t believe me. “You get used to it.” “I found out when I was in third grade. The very first day, I secretly swiped a dollar from my mom’s purse and bought two bags of hot chips.” The second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. That was probably not the best example. “Got it,” he said. Wow! He believes me! “See? It’s easy to understand!” “So now you’re using your superpowers specifically to steal guys’ boxers?” 5 “…” You got it, alright. You got it completely wrong! I took a deep, calming breath. “And on top of that… I also sleepwalk.” “So I have no idea why I only take your things when I’m asleep!” He nodded slowly. “Right. So you’ve got the whole combo package.” “Jason, I’m being serious!” I said, frustrated by his nonchalant attitude. It felt like nothing I said was getting through to him. Fine. Whatever. I was the one at fault here. “If you still don’t believe me, just wait for me tonight!” “What do you think I was doing all last night? Herding sheep in the hallway? Having a picnic?” I fell silent. “I know you guys were trying to catch me,” I said, “but do you really think someone with my abilities would just walk in through the front door?” “You had a whole audience sitting out there. Even a real pervert would have taken one look and run away. What were you guys even thinking…?” A slow, mocking grin spread across his face. “Oh, you’re right. How could I ever be as clever as you?” “It’s true, I never would have guessed a girl could sleepwalk, have superpowers, and combine the two just to steal underwear.” “It wasn’t on purpose! And I didn’t throw your things away! They’re all safe in a box!” “You know, a while back, I thought about buying one of those sports cameras, the kind you strap to your chest, to record my nightly wanderings.” “But they were too expensive, so I gave up on the idea.” I patted his shoulder. “But now that I have you, I don’t think I’ll need it.” He fell silent for a beat. “You want to… strap me to your chest?” His reading comprehension was really something else. “No! I mean… you could just stay up and watch where I come from!” “Why didn’t I just wake you up when I saw you?” I threw my hands up in exasperation. “You people!” “Haven’t you ever heard that you’re not supposed to wake a sleepwalker?” “Why not?” “Oh. Uh… I don’t actually know.”

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The year Nathan loved me most, he cut ties with his family and eloped with me, moving abroad to start a new life. But on the day he washed his thousandth dish, the day he coughed up blood from sheer exhaustion, I took three million dollars from his parents. Then I stood and watched as he was forced onto a helicopter bound for home. He clung to the helicopter door, begging me not to leave him, even as his fingers broke and bled. And I? I threw the money he’d earned into the sink and told him it wasn’t even enough to buy me a single tube of paint. I told him a pauper like him had no right to talk to me about a future. Seven years later, at a lavish charity gala, we met again. I begged him for money. He agreed, on one condition: that I be the artist for his wedding, that I witness his happiness with my own eyes. I nodded without hesitation. He didn’t know that the money I needed was to save a little girl. A little girl who shared his blood, a daughter he never knew existed. 1 “I will.” “As long as you keep your word, Mr. Vance.” In a dimly lit corner of the grand ballroom, I stood beside Nathan, my back bowed in deference. A long, slow breath of relief escaped me. The condition was so simple. If I just agreed, I could save my Madelyn. Thank God. But Nathan didn’t move. He stared down at the top of my head for a long moment before a cold sneer twisted his lips. “Only seven years, and you’ve already blown through all three million?” “Was it all on paint?” My breath caught. I dug my nails into my palm, then forced myself to look up, plastering a sycophantic, pleasing smile on my face. “Yes, the money ran out a long time ago.” “That’s why I need a man of your stature to help me out.” After seven years, he was a powerful CEO, a man whose world I could no longer hope to touch. He abruptly let go of my arm as if he’d touched something filthy. “Nathan, what are you doing back here? Found an old flame?” “Hey, man, you’re getting married. Don’t let Susan…” The voice died in the man’s throat. “Jess Kang? What are you doing here?” Nathan’s friends stared at me, their faces instantly hardening. “Nathan, don’t be a fool!” one of them said, anxiously studying his expression. “Have you forgotten how she lied to you, how she ruined you? You can’t trust her again!” I lowered my head again, saying nothing. Everyone knew how insane Nathan had been for me back then. To elope with me, he’d jumped from a third-story window of his family’s mansion, shattering his ankle. He hadn’t even had it set until after our plane landed. To afford the finest art supplies for me, he’d worked six jobs a day, working himself to the point of coughing up blood, yet he wouldn’t even buy himself a full course of medicine. And I had abandoned him in the span of a single second. So I couldn’t blame his friends for looking at me like they wanted to kill me. “You’re overthinking it,” Nathan said, his voice flat. “I’ve just invited her to be the artist for my wedding. To paint Susan and me.” Susan. His fiancée. I repeated the beautiful name to myself, then looked up at them with a brazen, carefree smile. “That’s right. As long as the price is right.” “What can I get you all to drink? I’ll go get it.” No one offered me so much as a kind glance. They formed a tight circle around Nathan and me, their voices a rising chorus of accusations, calling me heartless, warning Nathan not to fall for my tricks again. I just bowed and scraped, playing along with their insults. I saw my manager across the room, waving impatiently at me, and a knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. Nathan followed my gaze. His face was a mask, devoid of emotion. He simply signed a check and tossed it at my feet. “You start tomorrow. This is the down payment.” He waved a dismissive hand at me, as if he couldn’t stand the sight of my face for another second. I snatched the check from the floor, my fingers closing around it tightly, and backed out of the circle. Madelyn’s hospital bills. I could pay them. I was so happy I could have cried. Even when my manager made me wash dishes for an extra two hours, I didn’t feel the least bit resentful. The thin rubber gloves tore quickly, and the skin on my fingers peeled away, leaving them looking like waterlogged, rotting wood. But I felt no pain. Instead, my mind drifted back to the past, to the nights when Nathan would come home from his own dishwashing job, and I would gently apply ointment to his chapped, raw hands. It was cheap stuff, barely effective, but he was so stubborn, he’d never let me use more than a tiny amount. “I’m a grown man. What do I need this for?” he’d say, hiding his chilblained hands and taking mine instead. “A painter’s hands… those are the ones that are precious.” Lost in the memory, my hand slipped. A plate shattered at my feet. A pang of dread shot through me as I calculated how much would be docked from this month’s pay. But before I could even bend down to pick up the pieces, a figure appeared beside me, yanking me to my feet. “Jess, what are you doing to your hands?!” 2 I looked up and met Nathan’s furious gaze. But the moment the words left his mouth, he froze. It was the same thing he used to shout at me whenever he got angry, back before we broke up. When I’d cut my finger trying to slice fruit for him. When I’d worked at a fast-food joint and hot oil had spattered the back of my hand. He would always say, in that harsh, worried tone, Jess, what are you doing to your hands? He said my hands were for painting, not for menial tasks. He treasured my hands, my art, as much as he treasured me. We had met at an art exhibition, after all. We were in different departments at the same university, a year apart. Our paths had never crossed. But that day, amidst the bustling crowd of the gallery, he was the only one who stood in the corner, in front of my painting, and studied it for a full hour. I was ecstatic. I chattered at him for ages, telling him about my work, asking for his thoughts and advice. But he was a man of few words and offered little in return. I found out later that he was a severe depressive. That day had been the first day he was out after recovering from his last suicide attempt. None of that mattered to me. We quickly became friends. And then, lovers. He came to my studio every day to watch me paint. He listened intently to every word I said, no matter how much I rambled. And those eyes, usually so clouded with a deep-seated gloom, slowly began to find a glimmer of a smile in my endless chatter. I was with him as he slowly, painstakingly, returned to a normal life. Then came graduation, and his family demanded we break up, citing our difference in status. He didn’t hesitate. He took me and we eloped, leaving the country behind. He told me that no matter how hard it got, he would make me the most famous painter in the world. He said my art had saved him, so I should never feel guilty for anything he did for me. He saw me as the sun that had pulled him from the abyss. And I betrayed him without a second thought. Because it was all taking too long. I couldn’t wait for a future built on the coins he earned washing one dish at a time. “Why are you doing this?” The memory faded. I saw Nathan pull himself back from the brink of his outburst, releasing my arm. “Waitstaff have to wash dishes in addition to serving?” His voice was flat, emotionless, just like when we first met. He was a puppet again, all strings and no feeling. “Just trying to earn a little extra, you know?” I awkwardly hid my hands behind my back, glancing around. A wave of relief washed over me. My coworkers were all gone. No one had seen us. “I was a bit reckless these past few years, made some bad investments. Now I’m working odd jobs to pay off my debts.” I crouched down to pick up the shards, not daring to meet his eyes. “It’s a good thing I ran into you today. You were so generous…” His hand gently brushed mine away. In silence, he picked up the sharp fragments and threw them in a nearby trash can. Then he stood up, looming over me. “Are you still painting?” I remained crouched on the floor, my hands empty. For a split second, my mind went blank. Then I composed myself and looked up at him. “Of course. That’s my main profession.” He just looked at me, saying nothing. My heart hammered against my ribs. I was terrified he would see through my lie and take back his offer to be his wedding artist. Thankfully, the tense silence was broken by a phone call. “Nathan, are you almost home? I made you some soup to help with the hangover.” The woman’s voice on the other end was melodious and gentle. I took a step back, the name echoing in my mind. Susan. The fiancée his friends had mentioned, the one who was his perfect match. “Almost there,” Nathan said, then paused. “You have a cold. You should be resting. Don’t wait up for me, get some sleep.” I didn’t look up, but I could feel his eyes on me as he spoke. I suppressed the bitter sting in my throat and tried to slip away while he was still on the phone. “Jess.” The moment I turned, he ended the call. “You’ve been hiding for seven years. Is there any point in running now?” “See you tomorrow.” 3 I pretended not to understand the sarcasm laced in his words, simply nodding before hurrying away. The next day, as promised, I arrived at his villa. Susan greeted me at the door and even poured me a cup of tea. “Ms. Kang. It’s been a long time,” she said, a faint, knowing smile on her face as she took in my confused expression. “You probably don’t remember me. Nathan and I were in the same department. I used to see him going to find you all the time.” Now I knew why the name had felt familiar. Susan had known him for just as long as I had. “I used to be so envious of you,” she continued. “A man like him, born to such privilege, so cold to everyone else, yet he only had eyes for you.” “I never imagined you two would break up so… decisively.” I managed a tight, awkward smile and retreated to a corner to set up my easel, not daring to say another word. He was cold because of his illness. And he only had eyes for me probably because… I was relentless. But all of that was in the past. Now, my subjects were Nathan and Susan, a perfect, storybook couple. I spent the morning at their home, painting a scene of them watering flowers in the garden, Nathan’s hand resting on her waist. “It’s beautiful. No wonder Nathan insisted on hiring you,” Susan said with a satisfied nod, handing me a glass of water. “You’ve been painting all morning. You must be tired. Take a break.” I accepted it without a second thought and took a large gulp. Scalding hot water seared its way down my throat. I clutched my neck, coughing violently. “Oh, dear! I forgot this was freshly boiled water!” Susan exclaimed, standing up with a look of apology. In her haste, she knocked over the glass. My morning’s work was instantly ruined, a wash of bleeding colors. But I barely registered it. The pain in my throat led to an endless fit of coughing. Soon, I couldn’t breathe. It was Nathan who came rushing in. He carried me to a room and forced an asthma inhaler into my mouth. The black fog clouding my vision slowly receded. As my breathing evened out, I saw Nathan’s red-rimmed eyes. And behind him, on the nightstand, was a row of unopened asthma medication. The same brand I used to use. “Jess,” Nathan’s voice trembled. “Wasn’t three million dollars enough for you to buy yourself the best medicine?” I slowly sat up, waving a dismissive hand. “Of course I did. It was three million dollars. You don’t have to worry about me not taking care of myself.” I gave him a weak smile. “I haven’t had an attack in ages. What just happened was an accident. I know Ms. Lin didn’t mean to…” “Shut up.” I stared at him, stunned by his sudden interruption. “I looked into it. Painting hasn’t been your main profession for years.” Nathan’s voice was numb, as if he were reading my death sentence. “You haven’t sold a single painting. Your name disappeared from the art world seven years ago.” “The reason you gave for leaving me was your art.” “But now, even the asthma inhaler you carry is the cheapest kind you can buy.” As if by magic, he produced the small plastic inhaler from my bag. He took a step forward, trapping me against the headboard. “So you tell me,” he hissed, his face inches from mine. “What did you really do with that three million dollars?” 4 My body began to tremble. But I couldn’t let him know. I hid my hands behind my back and dug my nails into my own flesh. The pain in my scarred, calloused hands was sharp, excruciating. But it was nothing compared to the pain in my heart. The three million dollars was long gone. It was all for Madelyn. Our daughter, the one I had given birth to in secret, the one born with a congenital heart defect. I had spent every penny in hospitals, from the day she was born until now, her seventh year. A month ago, she had finally undergone a successful heart transplant, only to suffer a severe rejection. The staggering cost of her ongoing treatment was a mountain crushing the very breath from my lungs. And then, just as I was about to break, Nathan had reappeared. So I had no choice but to seek him out, to tear my own dignity to shreds, to shamelessly exploit our shared past and beg him for help. As for painting… I thought back to that morning, sitting before the easel, the feel of the brush in my hand. A small, sad smile touched my lips. It felt like a lifetime ago. But I couldn’t tell him a single word of it. “I’m not some famous artist. My sales are all private deals. It’s normal that no one’s heard of me.” I slipped out from under his arm and gave him a nonchalant shrug. “I told you, I squandered the three million. That’s why I have to work odd jobs to pay off my debts while I paint.” “And as for my asthma… it’s incurable, so it doesn’t matter what kind of medicine I use.” A terrible silence descended between us again, a chasm I couldn’t cross. And in the doorway stood Susan, the jealousy and resentment in her eyes undisguised, marring her otherwise gentle, beautiful face. I fled. You don’t deserve him, Jess, I told myself, over and over again. A week later, I finished my work at Nathan’s villa and went to the hospital to see my precious girl. Madelyn said my voice still sounded like Donald Duck. I just smiled and gently pinched her pale little cheek. My throat was healing slowly from the burn. But at least Nathan had barely spoken to me since the incident. He had probably given up on me, again. And that was for the best. I didn’t regret my choice. I couldn’t be a burden to him seven years ago, and I couldn’t be one now. Once the wedding was over and I had the money, I would disappear. I just had to get through tomorrow. “If Mommy’s Donald Duck, then you’re my little Goof—” “Madelyn! Sweetheart! Doctor!” Without any warning, my daughter, who had been laughing with me just a second ago, suddenly closed her eyes, her breathing becoming heavy and labored. The heart rate monitor beside her bed shrieked. I watched, helpless, as she was wheeled back into the operating room, just two hours after her last procedure. I collapsed onto a bench outside, a hollow shell. The world swam before my eyes. The doctor’s words echoed in my ears. He said the rejection was getting worse, that if she couldn’t get through this critical period, she might never… I couldn’t bear to hear the rest. I felt my own breathing quicken, the familiar sense of suffocation closing in. “Jess, breathe! Breathe!” In the last second before my consciousness faded, Nathan appeared before me like a dream, holding me, forcing the inhaler to my lips. I pushed his hand away and fell to my knees before him, sobbing. “The rest of the money… the four hundred thousand… can you give it to me now? I can’t wait until tomorrow. I need to transfer Madelyn to a better hospital today…” “She’s my daughter, she’s six years old… I had her with someone else after you left… but she’s so good, so sweet, please, I’m begging you…” I was babbling, incoherent with grief, just begging him, over and over. He held me tight, repeating that it was going to be okay, telling me to calm down. “I have a friend who’s a specialist in this field. I’m messaging him right now. He’ll arrange the transfer.” “The wedding is canceled tomorrow. I’ll go with you. Your daughter will be fine.” “Don’t cry.” Something warm and wet fell onto my neck. It couldn’t be Nathan’s tears, could it? The thought floated through my dazed mind. Then a phone rang. Nathan quickly answered it, putting it on speaker and holding it up to my ear, desperate for me to hear the news that might save me. “It’s all arranged. You can bring the little one over tomorrow,” a strange man’s voice said from the other end. “But there’s one thing you might have wrong. The child isn’t six, like you said.” “The medical records from the hospital say she’s seven years old.”

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The girl I grew up with was in love with the campus king. The king, however, was obsessed with her arch-nemesis. So, Donna lost her mind. She turned to me, her loyal lapdog. “Kian, I want you to seduce Lydia Moriarty. Knock her off her pedestal.” My first instinct was to say no. Lydia Moriarty was notoriously difficult. But then, a string of comments materialized before my eyes: [This idiot… who cares who he chases? Lydia’s family is way richer than Donna’s!] [He doesn’t know it yet, but if he refuses Donna today, he’ll be kicked out of the Xavier mansion tomorrow.] [And the worst part? Because Donna’s upset, Mr. Xavier won’t give him a dime.] [That’s a seven-figure payout down the drain!] Come again? A seven-figure fortune, just… gone? The “no” on the tip of my tongue did a sharp U-turn. I looked at Donna, my face a mask of heartbreak. “Lydia Moriarty? Alright… I’ll try.” 1 I’m an adopted son of the Xavier family. And, unofficially, Donna Xavier’s personal lapdog. Donna always looked at me with that familiar, cutting disdain. “Kian, I’ve never met anyone as pathetic as you.” Night after night, the only warmth I felt came from the balance in my bank account. I was just doing a job for Mr. Xavier, a job that came with a hefty paycheck. So I let her insults and psychological jabs roll right off me. Her friends once gave her a brilliant idea. For a guy on the make like me, the best way to put him in his place was to trample his dignity with cash. God save us from the sudden bright ideas of the terminally stupid. Donna casually tossed a stack of bills at my face. “Get lost. The sight of you makes me sick.” It was pouring rain outside that day. On the outside, I looked like I was about to shatter. On the inside, I was discreetly stuffing the cash into my bag. As I turned to leave, I made sure to clutch my chest dramatically, a single, perfectly timed tear rolling down my cheek just before her expression could sour. That performance bought me a night off from waiting on her. After that, Donna figured she’d found the perfect way to handle me. Whenever she didn’t want to see me, she’d just throw money at me to make me disappear. The fool. She had no idea how thrilled I was. This time, she tossed a card at me. Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion. “I want you to seduce Lydia Moriarty. Knock her off her pedestal.” “What?” I seriously wondered if she’d lost her mind. Donna’s brow furrowed. “You’re the best at sucking up to people, aren’t you? Use all those pathetic tricks you pull on me, but on her.” Her voice hardened. “Make Ethan give up on her for good.” Ethan Ford. Heir to the Ford fortune. Arrogant, domineering, and utterly self-absorbed. And hopelessly devoted to Lydia Moriarty. People are twisted. The more he couldn’t stand Donna, the more desperate she was to have him. Desperate enough to throw me to the wolves. I may be a professional sycophant, but I have my principles. One client at a time. Besides, Mr. Xavier was already paying me a six-figure monthly salary. Going after Lydia Moriarty was a high-risk gamble. My first instinct was to refuse. I’d already plastered the perfect look of wounded vulnerability onto my face when those comments flickered into existence again: [This idiot… who cares who he chases? Lydia’s family is way richer than Donna’s!] [He doesn’t know it yet, but if he refuses Donna today, he’ll be kicked out of the Xavier mansion tomorrow.] [And the worst part? Because Donna’s upset, Mr. Xavier won’t give him a dime.] [That’s a seven-figure payout down the drain!] Come again? A seven-figure fortune, just… gone? 2 Seeing me frozen in place, Donna’s patience wore thin. “Kian, stop it. You could strip naked in front of me and I still wouldn’t feel a thing.” Mr. Xavier had plucked me from an orphanage when I was ten, a companion for a young Donna who had a slight speech impediment. My sunny, easy-going nature was supposed to help. Faced with a sudden life of luxury, I was a whirlwind of excitement, chattering away to her constantly. Within a few years, her impediment was gone. But Mr. Xavier, ever cautious, kept me on as her companion, paying me a monthly salary. Donna had a terrible temper. She and her clique of mean girls made my life a living hell. But I’d known real poverty, the kind that gnaws at your bones. I couldn’t walk away from the money. The comments kept scrolling. [Damn, that mouth on her. Kissing her would be like drinking poison.] [Poor Kian. Mr. Xavier’s just going to use him and toss him aside.] [He’s terrified Donna might actually fall for Kian and ruin the arranged marriage with the Fords.] [Take the card, you fool! Agree to go after Lydia! You’ll be getting paid by both sides. It’s the dream!] So, saying no would cost me a fortune. Good thing my face was already set in an expression of pure, practiced misery. Before the word “no” could escape my lips, I blinked, letting my eyes well up. Slowly, with a kind of deadened resignation, I reached for the card. Seeing the tears in my eyes, Donna’s expression shifted. She seemed desperate to get rid of me, like I was a hot potato. She snatched her hand back. “The PIN is your birthday.” “Does it really have to come to this?” I whispered, my brow furrowed in pain. She stuffed her hands in her pockets, nonchalant. “What else?” “Fine. I’ll do it.” “You…” I spun around and ran, not waiting to hear the rest. No way was I sticking around. If I waited a second longer, she might change her mind, and I’d be out a whole lot of cash. 3 The next morning, I packed my bags and moved out of the Xavier mansion. The comments had been right. Last night, Mr. Xavier had called me into his study. He said that I was an adult now, that he had fulfilled his duty as my guardian. To avoid any “gossip,” he offered me five million dollars to leave the Xavier household for good. Staring at the long string of zeros on the bank transfer, I almost burst out laughing. That night, tucked in bed, I was grinning like an idiot as I called a real estate agent. He was efficient, finding me a new place in no time. I was so ecstatic, I didn’t even bother saying goodbye to Donna. I just left. The comments were still buzzing: [Wait, Kian is obsessed with money, but he agreed to stop chasing Donna? Something’s not right.] [I’m not saying I’m jealous, but who makes millions overnight? Damn, kid, you’ve got it made!] [Isn’t the plot supposed to be: Kian refuses, gets kicked out, shamelessly clings to Donna, and then gets put in his place by the male lead?] [Is he actually going to go after Lydia Moriarty?] 4 Lydia Moriarty was a fortress. A goddess born into privilege, with a face that could launch a thousand ships. Her name was a permanent fixture on the campus confessions page. Someone even started a group chat just to sell her photos. I joined the group and bought out the entire collection. Then I dropped a bombshell: “I’m going to win her over.” No one thought I was delusional. Instead, they offered advice. “Pro-tip: Don’t try the ‘clumsy fall’ trick. I pretended to be some cute, innocent guy and tripped in front of her. She walked right past me without a second glance. Do you know how hot 45-degree pavement is? My kneecaps nearly melted!” “Giving her water is even worse! I almost got crushed into a human pancake by the crowd!” “Move it, people! I snuck into her lecture, and the professor called me out on the spot. ‘The student in the back wearing dinosaur pajamas, please come solve this partial differential equation.’ I couldn’t even read the question! Now the whole business school thinks we have a moron T-Rex in our midst!” … I took mental notes. And then I staked out the locker room. Lydia, fresh off the badminton court, walked in. The breeze lifted the hem of her shirt, revealing a glimpse of sleek, defined abs. Beneath her grey athletic skirt, her legs were long and toned. My heart hammered against my ribs. “Seen enough?” A cool voice sliced through the air. I looked up, straight into a pair of classic, almond-shaped eyes. I had to admit, Lydia Moriarty had a face that could stop your heart. Her eyes tilted up slightly at the corners, and a tiny mole dotted the left side of her perfect nose. She radiated an aura of cool, aristocratic distance. Her brow furrowed with annoyance. “You have a crush on me?” “Huh?” Her lips were thin, her voice chilling. “Don’t play these games. You’re not my type.” “Oh.” Lydia’s expression flickered. As she brushed past me, she paused. “Kian.” “Yeah?” A few beads of sweat trickled from her hairline down to the delicate hollow of her collarbone. She looked down. “Go back and tell Donna Xavier to stay away from me.” Damn, she was smart. Suddenly, I was intrigued. “Want to bet I’ll be your boyfriend one day?” “No.” 5 Whatever. I posted one of the candid shots I’d just taken to the group chat as a teaser. Five dollars for a set of twenty. My DMs exploded instantly. If you can’t beat them, join them. And every penny counts. A high-volume, low-margin business model would at least earn back the money I’d spent buying the photos in the first place. When Lydia came out of the shower, looking fresh and clean, she saw me squatting by the trash can. She frowned. “Waiting for me?” I was busy replying to messages. People were calling me a pro, saying my shots were amazing. That 25 cents a picture was basically charity. I glanced up, answering automatically. “Yeah.” Lydia pursed her lips. She pulled a broken bracelet from her bag, about to toss it. I lunged forward. “Can I have that?” She froze. “You want my trash?” “Yep.” She looked genuinely startled, then opened her hand. “You like me that much?” The bracelet landed softly in my palm. I gave her a warm, gentle smile. “Just being near you is enough to make me happy.” Lydia’s brow furrowed. She turned and strode away, as if fleeing a persistent pest, but the tips of her ears were flushed a faint pink. Probably just the heat. I snapped back to reality and sent a picture of the bracelet to the group. “Fresh off the press! Lydia Moriarty’s exclusive bracelet! It broke during her match, but I can fix it. This is a personal item, people. DM me with your best offers!” [Mouth_of_a_Sailor]: “Is that really hers?” [Midnight_Sad_Boi]: “I saw her playing badminton with it on! It’s hers!” The group admin even chimed in, tagging me: “Dude, you’re a legend. How’d you get your hands on a personal item so fast?” You know it. All for the money, honey. That’s my motto. 6 The next day was the Go club’s welcome meeting. I ran into Lydia at the entrance. She frowned and took a half-step back. “You again?” Like a magician, I produced a bottle of water from my bag. “If I want to win you over, I have to be seen, right?” She stared at the bottle I held out. Her fingers twitched. It was the brand she always drank. Before she could refuse, the club president called my name from across the room. While she was distracted, I shoved the water into her arms and scurried away. After the introductions, the president announced we were pairing up for practice games. A classmate, Sophie, immediately slid up to me. “Kian, want to be partners?” Before I could answer, a familiar water bottle was thrust between us. Lydia had materialized behind me. Her face was a cold mask as she pushed the water back into my hands and turned to leave. I had to apologize to Sophie. I hurried after Lydia. “Hey, Lydia, want to be partners?” “Didn’t you already find someone?” she clipped out. I circled around to face her, my eyes curving into a smile. “But I came here for you.” I gently pulled her to a nearby table. “Everyone’s already paired up. It’s just us left.” As we played, our fingers brushed. She snatched her hand back, the tips of her ears turning red again. “Do you even know how to play?” I watched her, smiling. “The president told me you’re a 5-dan professional. If I beat you, can I claim a prize?” “What kind of prize?” The hand holding the black stone paused. She seemed to realize she was playing into my hands and hesitated. But I sealed the deal before she could object. “Something you can definitely do.” Just then, my phone buzzed with a group chat notification. Lydia’s gaze fell to my screen, and her eyes widened in shock. I had set one of the pictures I took of her as my lock screen. Remembering the whole photo-selling business, I quickly turned the screen off and met her gaze. “It’s not illegal to have a picture of the person you like as your wallpaper, is it?” “…” When she didn’t say anything, I pressed my advantage. “I took a really nice photo of you the other day. My friends want to see it too. Is it okay if I show them?” “Your face is a work of art. Men see it and fall in love, women see it and go crazy, old people…” “Stop!” She turned away, the blush on her ears spreading down her neck. “Whatever.” “Great.” “By the way,” she added, her voice smug. “You lost.” I pointed at the board. Comprehension dawned on her face. Her eyebrows shot up. “You were distracting me on purpose?” Her competitive spirit ignited. “That doesn’t count. Let’s go again.” Fifteen minutes later. I smiled. “You let me win.” “And about that prize… you can’t go back on your word.” Not giving her a chance to refuse, I held up my phone. “I recorded you. A deal’s a deal.” Lydia had clearly never encountered anyone as shameless as me. She finally gritted her teeth. “You’ve certainly got some moves.” You bet I do. Thanks to Donna, I was forced to learn a whole host of skills she couldn’t be bothered with as a child, just so I could cover for her. Chess, horseback riding, violin… you name it, I had at least a working knowledge of it. 7 After that, Lydia stopped being surprised whenever she saw me around campus. The consensus in the group chat was that out of all her pursuers, I had the best shot. The guys who used to sell her photos took mediocre pictures from bad angles. I, on the other hand, always found her good side. A few of my shots were so close you could see the fine, downy hair on her cheeks. They figured she must have been letting me get that close. One afternoon in the library, I spotted her immediately, head bent over a textbook. Beauty, I realized, was an aura. Especially when it came to a focused woman. She stood out from the crowd like a crane among chickens. I was about to head over when a hand clamped onto my arm and yanked me into the hallway. It was Donna, who I hadn’t seen in ages. She wore the same condescending expression. “There’s a volunteer event in front of the library tomorrow at noon. You’re going for me. Oh, and you’ll be wearing a mascot costume.” It had been so long, I’d almost forgotten about this nuisance. I’d already moved out of her house. I had no obligation to be nice to her anymore. “I’m busy,” I said, my voice cold. “What could possibly be more important than what I need?” Had her brain completely checked out? I let out a humorless laugh and spelled it out for her. “Winning over Lydia Moriarty.” Donna’s expression froze, her face darkening like a storm cloud. “Oh, really?” “Yeah, really. What, you regret it now? Because I’m not giving the money back,” I said, done with pretending. I started to walk away. She grabbed my arm, her jaw tight. “Twenty thousand. To fill in for me tomorrow.” “Not interested. It’s too hot for that.” “Fifty thousand.” “No. I’ll get heatstroke in that costume.” “Two hundred thousand.” “Deal.” “…” I pulled my arm free. “Anything else?” As I reached the door, I heard her mutter, “Kian, you really are a disloyal dog.” I paused and looked back. “Thanks for the compliment. Don’t forget to wire the money.” As I grabbed the doorknob, I heard the thud of a foot kicking the wall behind me. I couldn’t be bothered. I went to find Lydia. 8 But something was off with Lydia. While she studied, she didn’t meet my eyes once. A chill emanated from her that was cold enough to give me frostbite. When it was time to leave, she packed her bag and walked out without a word. I scrambled to catch up. Just outside the library, Ethan Ford intercepted her, holding a milk tea and a small cake. He shouldered me aside, beaming at her. “Lydia, you must be exhausted from studying. I had someone wait in line forever to get these for you. Have a taste?” He thrust the items toward her. Lydia looked thoroughly annoyed. She didn’t reach for them. But as her gaze shifted, she froze. I followed her line of sight. Damn it. How did the bracelet I’d gotten from her end up on Ethan’s wrist? I thought I sold it to some other guy in the group. Noticing her stare, Ethan proudly held up his wrist, giving it a little twirl. “No doubt about it, this is yours! I bought it off some guy.” “Cost me a pretty penny, too,” he added smugly. Damn it all to hell. The guy who bought it said he was short on cash, so I took pity on him and sold it for a measly $520. Lydia’s eyes were fixed on me, her voice practically a growl. “How much did you pay for it?” Ethan grinned. “Ten thousand. The second I heard it was yours, I didn’t even blink. The seller was a real pro about it, too. The money hit his account, and he handed it over without a second thought. See? All those other guys are faking it. I’m the only one who really likes you.” Meanwhile, I was dying a slow, painful death. Damn the middleman! In that moment, I still hadn’t grasped the full extent of the disaster unfolding. Not until Lydia pushed Ethan aside and stalked toward me. Her eyes bored into me, and she forced out a single, chilling question: “Kian, care to explain?”

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After ten years in hiding, I finally emerged, only to find the story had ended long ago. This post-apocalyptic novel was in its final chapters. The hero, Quaid Cole, had established a small-scale human sanctuary, and civilization was beginning the slow, arduous process of rebuilding itself. But none of that good fortune was for me. On my first day in this world, I made a shocking discovery: I was a pet jellyfish Quaid kept in a tank. That’s right. No eyes, just a basic light-sensing system. Even my thoughts felt flattened, simplified. But I never forgot my keeper. He would feed me the most delicious little shrimp. He would mix the saltwater to the perfect, most comfortable salinity. He would gently poke my bell and tentacles with his finger. Then one day, he just… never came back. And I… missed him. Damn it. A human had me completely wrapped around his little finger. 01 When the apocalypse hit, every plant and animal on Earth underwent some form of mutation. Monstrous tsunamis and famine followed, swallowing eighty percent of the world’s landmass. I knew none of this. All I knew was that one day, my tank suddenly became infinitely larger, big enough for me to roam the entire house. At first, everything was a blur. Gradually, the shapes of furniture began to resolve. Straining my mind to access my past life’s intellect, I determined this was the home of a single man. Before the end, it must have been a beautiful place. But now, the vast picture windows were shattered, and wooden furniture drifted bizarrely beneath the ceiling, along with a collection of medals, creating a strange, submerged wonderland. During my explorations, I found a photograph, laminated and preserved. It showed a handsome man with a sharp buzz cut. His white lab coat was flung open with an air of defiance, and he wore a pair of strange-looking goggles, his brow furrowed as he stared into the camera. …He looked so kind. He must be a good person. Yup. I gently touched the photo with a small tentacle, and my body began to glow faintly. I had to find him. A keeper who abandons his pet is no good. Besides, I was so, so hungry. If I could just find him, I was sure I could eat all the shrimp I wanted. 02 The first time I tried to leave, I swam headfirst into a piece of furniture and nearly bruised my bell. The world outside was far too dangerous for a little jellyfish. It took I don’t know how long, but I focused all my energy on transforming myself into my previous human form. A jellyfish is mostly water, a boneless, floating creature. By constantly absorbing the water around me, I slowly managed to create a shimmering, translucent human shape. The massive expenditure of energy left me even hungrier. Dizzy with hunger, I pushed aside the overgrown algae and barnacles and “swam” out through the shattered picture window. Before me lay a resplendent, silent, underwater city. Schools of fish darted through the skeletons of once-mighty skyscrapers, where clothes, gnawed down to threads, drifted like ghosts. I noticed that even the once-harmless fish were different now. Some had evolved to monstrous sizes, others had developed deadly venoms, their very colors screaming danger. No matter how glorious human civilization had once been, it was utterly fragile against the might of this new ocean. The moment I emerged from the house, a dark swarm of fish changed course, and the seaweed lunged toward me like grasping hands. 03 Back when Quaid was taking care of me, if the water temperature dropped by a single degree, I would droop my bell and play dead for him. Jellyfish are delicate creatures, after all. The slightest mistake, and it’s curtains. Now, the water was so cold it made me shiver. “Ooh, seaweed. I was just getting hungry,” I said, plucking a large handful and munching on it as I swam. “This fish probably doesn’t have many bones… let’s see…” I noticed some fish trying to bite me, but my body regenerated almost instantly. A jellyfish’s healing ability is formidable. “Doesn’t taste great, though… hiccup.” Grimacing, I ate everything edible in the vicinity before pulling out the photograph again. On the back was an address… It seemed to be where my keeper used to work. I clapped my hands and set off with a determined swagger. “Captain Cole, we’re detecting an anomalous magnetic field in Zone Z!” The man at the screen had a grim expression. “You need to see this. It’s coming from the Dead Zone, the area with the most severe marine mutations. We’ve lost personnel on every reconnaissance mission we’ve sent there…” But now, the glaring red on the screen had faded significantly, which usually indicated a drop in the danger level. Yet, no one in the observation room looked relieved. A deep, cold voice cut through the tension. “A new apex predator may have emerged. Once its mutation is complete, it will dominate all other life in its environment. We need to prepare.” Quaid Cole stared at the screen, his eyes darkening, his lashes casting a small shadow on his cheek. “Return to Base for now.” 04 My keeper’s workplace was also flooded. Not a soul in sight. I clutched my empty stomach, completely at a loss. Just then, a waterproof radio crackled to life: “Broadcast Number 27803… crackle… The year is now 30XX… To any humans still surviving on this planet… do not give up… crackle… please head east… this is the Base… we are still conducting search and rescue operations…” Yes! I clenched my fist. I’ll go to the Base and find him there. I grabbed a white lab coat and threw it on, completely oblivious to the fact that an invisible dead zone had formed around me, a space so empty that not even a single shrimp dared to swim near. On a desk, I found some documents in a sealed bag. The handwriting on one was sharp and powerful: How to Care for a Fussy, Spoiled, and Prideful Jellyfish 1. Change the water regularly. 2. Provide sufficient food. 3. Gentle touching. … Gentle? He poked my head like he was trying to pop a balloon. 05 I headed east for a long time, and the water seemed to be getting shallower. Along the way, I found a light blue shoulder bag and carefully filled it with beautiful conches, shells, pink coral flowers, and strangely shaped stones. They were a gift for my keeper when I found him. The last remnants of humanity had gathered on the final piece of land on Earth. Unsure if I could survive out of the water, I cautiously swam upward and extended a hand above the surface. No pain. So, I clambered ashore, dripping wet. My body had lost much of its translucence, but I felt clumsy, not as agile as I was in the water. With the human population so drastically reduced, I hadn’t encountered anyone on my journey. But not long after reaching land, I came across a small group. They were men and women, protectively guarding a fishing net full of food. When I asked for directions, they just stared at each other. “You want to go to the Base?” The man in the lead let out a sarcastic laugh. “Do you have any idea how dangerous the road is? And what makes you think the Base will just let you in? People are dying to get in there!” He was about to say more when the woman next to him nudged him discreetly. She turned to me with a warm smile. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re heading there too. It’s good to have company.” I nodded obediently. “Okay.” That night, by the campfire. Faint whispers carried from behind the trees: “You idiot! Didn’t you see she’s alone? To have survived this long and gotten this far, that bag of hers must be full of good stuff.” “Besides, a woman like that… you know how much gold she could fetch on the black market? We might even be able to buy a Base access card outright!” “Let’s just starve her until she’s weak, then sell her…” In the darkness, two pairs of greedy eyes watched the girl sleeping soundly. This area was a settlement that had sprung up around the Base. The Base provided some aid to all humans, like medicine and food, but not everyone could live inside. Only those who passed the Base’s assessment could become a member. The next morning, we set out for the Base without even eating breakfast. Along the way, the woman, who called herself Belle, chatted with me endlessly. “What are you going to the Base for? How did you get here?” I wanted to say I was looking for my keeper, but I was afraid of revealing I was a jellyfish. I wracked my brain and said, “I’m… I’m looking for my family. I swam here.” Belle scoffed internally. She can’t even lie properly. As if anyone could swim through that deadly stretch of ocean. What an idiot. “What’s in your bag? It looks heavy. I can carry it for you.” I patted my little bag proudly. “No, thank you! These are my treasures.” My keeper will be so happy when he sees all the pretty flowers and stones I found. “…” “By the way, sister, how old are you? Where do you usually hang out?” I blinked, asking my own curious questions. 06 We traveled for several days. Belle said that with food so scarce, they only ate one meal a day. I couldn’t stomach the compressed biscuits anyway, so every night, I would sneak off to a nearby stream to catch fish. The fish and crabs in these freshwater streams had also mutated; they were vicious, leaping out to bite my legs. I unfurled two of my tentacles and caught half a basketful, eating until my belly was round. So, while I followed them with boundless energy, Belle and her husband, who had started out at a brisk pace, were soon practically holding each other up just to keep walking. They had food with them. Why weren’t they eating it? Humans were so hard to understand. After three days of this, we finally reached a small town. The town was in ruins, the air thick with the smell of oil and gunpowder. People on the roadside watched us with unfriendly eyes. Belle’s husband said he needed to get his weapon serviced and left us. “You see how things are now. It’s not like the old world. Especially for us women… if we don’t find a safe place, who knows what could happen…” Belle said, taking my hand in a sisterly fashion. “You’re so young, it’s too dangerous for you to be wandering around alone. I have an idea. This town is great. There are a lot of powerful men here. If you could stay, you’d be rich and safe!” I looked at her, confused. “Huh? Isn’t this the Base?” “Silly girl, what’s so great about the Base?” She patted my head. “This is where everyone wants to be. You just sit here in the park and don’t wander off, okay? Wait for me to come back.” I watched her walk into a shop with a black sign. I thought about what she’d said and frowned. Belle was trying to be kind, I guess… but I didn’t want to stay in this town. 07 After some hard bargaining, Belle finally settled on a price. To her shock, when she returned excitedly to the park, I was surrounded by several heavily armed men. “This is her?” one of them grunted. Seeing Belle, I beamed and waved. “Sister, I found someone for you! You can stay in this rich and safe place now!” Belle froze, her jaw dropping. “This kind uncle heard a woman wanted to stay, so he came right over with me,” I explained to the men. “That’s her.” “You— I’m not—” Belle’s eyes widened in fury, but before she could scream, two men grabbed her arms, pinning them behind her back. Another clamped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, and there’s a brother, too. He wants to stay in town as well,” I added earnestly, seeing Belle’s tears of joy. “No need to thank me. You two took such good care of me on the road.” Belle was already dizzy from hunger. The sudden shock and rage were too much, and all the fight went out of her. “Right, I get it. We can always use more labor in town…” The uncle nodded. He was a very kind man. Earlier, when the shells and conches had spilled from my bag in the park, he’d seen me picking them up and had gone pale. When I told him about the brother and sister who wanted to find a rich and safe place to live, he had immediately pounded his chest and said to leave it to him. “Oh, and here’s your finder’s fee. Two pieces of gold. Fifty grams for the woman, ten for the man.” “Thank you, uncle,” I said with a sweet smile, tucking the two gold bars into my bag. Now I had money for the rest of the trip to the Base, and the brother and sister got to stay in town. What a wonderful day. When the Base finds out about this, they’ll think I’m the smartest, kindest little jellyfish in the world. They’ll definitely let me in. 08 I spent another half-day in town, stocking up on food and a few dresses. I considered buying a weapon, but I didn’t know how much farther I had to go and didn’t want to weigh my bag down. Now that I’d found other people, the way to the Base wasn’t hard to find. I fell in with a stream of survivors, all heading in the same direction. “You have to pass an assessment to get into the Base. I just hope I don’t get Captain Cole as my examiner…” someone prayed. “I heard he built the Base with his own two hands.” A heavy silence fell over the group. Everyone knew the chaos of the early days. The kind of person who could forge a sanctuary from that chaos was not a man of mercy, but a man of iron will. “I was only seven or eight when the world ended. My mom used to scare me with his name at night.” “Me too! She’d say if I didn’t go to sleep, she’d let him come and get me…” I trailed behind the group, shivering. I never imagined my former keeper, now Captain Cole, could be so terrifying. I pictured him with giant fangs, razor-sharp claws, and fierce, red eyes… Weighted down with worry, I finally arrived at the gates of the Base. It was imposing and fortified, its cold white walls reflecting in my eyes. Everyone surged forward to line up at the checkpoint. I hurried to the back of the line. But the guards who usually stood watch were gone. The iron gates were sealed tight. 09 Inside the Base, alarm bells were shrieking. The sound of running footsteps echoed through the halls. “SSS-level alert! SSS-level alert! Unknown high-intensity mutant approaching!” For days, their sensors had tracked a dangerous mutant lifeform on the move. It had traveled all the way from the Dead Zone and was now right on their doorstep. “Report! Sir… Captain Cole, we’ve checked the perimeter. There’s a group of survivors at the gate seeking entry… besides that, nothing unusual. I suspect one of them might be the high-intensity mutant, or perhaps has been parasitized by it. We still don’t know what this thing looks like…” Quaid calmly glanced at the monitor, his gaze lingering on the group of survivors. His eyes quickly found a girl in a white, floral-print dress. She stood out starkly among the grimy, armed crowd. Many in the line had also noticed her, their expressions growing wary. But the girl seemed oblivious, happily trying to clip a seashell into her hair like a barrette. A creature that fragile couldn’t survive in this world. He coolly looked away. “Captain Cole?” “Place them in the temporary shelter. I’ll conduct the assessment myself,” Quaid said, his voice low and firm. 10 I was trying to clip a blue shell into my hair when a young man with a friendly smile approached me. He was slender, with glasses that gave him a scholarly air. “Here, let me help you.” He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “Thank you. What do you think is going on? Who do you think will assess us?” The man seemed thoughtful. “Could be Quaid Cole himself.” Just as he spoke, the iron gates began to slide open. We followed the guards into a wide, open space. As I looked around, a figure appeared on a high platform. A buzz cut, sharp features, and a scar I didn’t remember slicing through the tail of his eyebrow. He wore a uniform, and the brim of his black cap cast a shadow over his strong jawline. His presence alone silenced the crowd. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to get a better look, and pulled out my photograph to compare. Hmm. No fangs, no claws… that was my keeper, all right. “I am Quaid Cole. I will be your examiner.” 11 The man with the glasses saw my confusion and whispered, “Don’t be scared. After the apocalypse, many animals mutated, but so did some humans. The Base is looking for people who have awakened special abilities.” The next moment, Quaid announced the test: defeat a megalodon in the simulation training room. We entered the training room one by one, according to our place in line. Since I was last, it would be a long wait. My bag felt heavy. Remembering something, I scampered up the stairs. “What do you think you’re doing?” A guard blocked my path. “I need to talk to your captain…” “Let her through.” Finally, a chance to talk to my keeper! I was ecstatic. “I finally found you! I’ve been looking for you for so long.” Quaid stared at the girl before him. “What?” he said, his brow furrowing. “Do not attempt to fraternize with the examiner.” His voice was cold, and the girl seemed to freeze in place, too intimidated to come any closer. I hung my head and carefully took out the conches, shells, pink coral flowers, and colorful stones from my bag, placing them on the ground. “I’m not trying to fraternize. I found these in the ocean. They’re my treasures, and I wanted to give them to you.” As an afterthought, I tucked the photograph under one of the stones. Afraid he would scold me again, I didn’t dare say another word. I turned and bolted back down the stairs. Quaid stood there, stunned for a moment, his gaze fixed on the small pile of treasures. I couldn’t believe how mean he had become. He didn’t even apologize for not feeding me a single shrimp and just abandoning me. “Stop.” I ran faster. 12 Ignoring the voice behind me, I rejoined the line. Agonized screams periodically echoed from the simulation room. When the man with the glasses was the first to emerge, his lenses spattered with blood, a smile playing on his lips, I suddenly realized who he was. Liam. The main villain of this post-apocalyptic novel. I should have recognized him at first glance. But ten years as a jellyfish in a tank, with no one to talk to, nothing to read, no contact with other humans, had caused my language and memory skills to deteriorate. My human way of thinking had faded. By the end, I truly thought of myself as just a jellyfish with a few stray thoughts. Only after the apocalypse allowed me to leave the tank did I slowly begin to recover my “human” abilities. In this base-building novel, Liam was the ultimate antagonist. He had a legion of fanatical followers born from the chaos of the apocalypse and possessed powerful mutated abilities of his own. He was the secret commander, his true identity unknown to anyone. In the novel’s finale, he was betrayed by a subordinate and cast into the sea— Everyone thought he was dead. Liam sat down next to me. He glanced up at the platform, then took off his glasses to wipe them, a small smile on his face. “Don’t be afraid. I don’t know what your ability is, but the megalodon in there has a weakness.” What villain? This was a top student, sharing answers and looking out for his classmates! What a great guy. I looked at him with stars in my eyes. “Ahem,” he said, looking away uncomfortably. “Its mutated attack pattern has a flaw. Every 90 seconds, it has a moment of slight hesitation. You can either attack then, or… use that moment to trick it into attacking someone else.” Liam watched me diligently taking notes, his gaze drifting to my skinny arms and legs. “If you can’t do it, just forfeit. I’ll find a way to get you in.” One by one, the other candidates stumbled out, dazed and injured. Finally, it was my turn. After another short wait, I stepped into the simulation room. The room was filled with seawater. I jumped in gleefully. It had been so long since I’d been in the ocean. I instantly felt a current of power flow through me. It was wonderful. Then I saw my opponent… a palm-sized pufferfish?! Wait, what happened to the megalodon?! 13 I poked the little pufferfish. It puffed up into an angry, spiky ball. I played with it for a bit, then swallowed it in two bites. Battle over in five minutes. I kind of wished it had been the megalodon. That would have been a proper meal. Why did the test change for me? And so, I passed the first assessment in last place. There were two assessments to get into the Base. Combat ability was one, and professional skill was the other. If you had a specialized expertise, like a doctor or a mechanical engineer, you could also get in. The second assessment was to fill out a form with your specialty. Three hours later, a very sad little jellyfish handed in a blank sheet of paper. 14 “Captain Cole, why is this one blank?” a subordinate asked, flipping through the papers. Quaid said, “She’s honest. Unlike those who would lie just to get in.” “…” The subordinate paused. “Her combat score seems average, too. One-star difficulty. The strongest in this batch is the one with the glasses… Liam. He must be the dangerous mutant.” Quaid didn’t answer, his eyes scanning the combat recordings of each candidate. Suddenly, a series of bloodcurdling screams erupted from outside the training room!

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The first day of preschool. My darling boy was clinging to a police officer, bawling his eyes out. “Help me! I don’t wanna go to school!” Sigh. I stepped forward to pry my son off the poor man, and then… I froze. Because this wasn’t just any cop. It was my damn ex. 1 I’ll admit, a man in uniform has a certain appeal. My son, Theo, was attached to him like a little koala, his arms and legs wrapped tight. His little nose and eyes were red and puffy from crying, his breath catching in hiccuping sobs as he buried his head in the officer’s neck, completely secure. The officer, however, looked anything but secure when he saw me. His face changed instantly. My own heart lurched. Four years since the breakup, and of all the places to run into him, it had to be here. All I could think was, what rotten luck. I’d sworn four years ago that if I ever saw him again, I’d be struck by lightning. Looks like my karmic retribution was just around the corner. But before divine justice could smite me, I had to get my son back. “Theo, honey, come here. You’re getting the nice officer’s uniform all dirty,” I tried, hoping a little white lie would do the trick. The little traitor didn’t even spare me a glance, having already defected to the enemy. Chace’s eyes, sharp and intense, were fixed on me. His brow was furrowed, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was staring at me like he was aiming a sniper rifle right at my soul, and it was making my skin crawl. I just prayed my son would get the telepathic message and come to me. “No,” Theo mumbled, tightening his little arms. He looked at me with tear-filled, mournful eyes. “I…” Forgive my inner brute, but at this rate, I’d never get this kid into school. This… this little rebel! He was forcing my hand. “Listen up, kiddo. Police officers are here to catch naughty little boys. You want a shiny pair of silver bracelets? A nice, hard bed at the station? Little Joey from next door has been eyeing your Super Wings collection for a long time. The second you’re hauled away, I’m giving it all to him.” It wasn’t just Theo; Chace’s expression darkened even further. His handsome face was like a storm cloud rolling in. He always looked like that when he was angry. I used to be able to gauge the exact level of his fury by the shade of his scowl. Right now, we were at DEFCON 1, probably because I was slandering his entire profession. I know, I know, you’re not supposed to use police officers to scare children. But I was desperate. “Officer, do you really arrest little kids?” Theo asked, cupping Chace’s face with his chubby hands, his eyes brimming with pitiful tears. “No,” Chace answered firmly. Excuse me?? Alright, fine. So much for my authority. I glanced at my watch. If I didn’t get Theo into that school soon, I was going to be late for work, and there went my perfect attendance bonus for the month. “But,” Chace added, his tone softening, “officers don’t like boys who don’t behave. Are you a good boy?” My little fool nodded obediently, his voice milky. “I am. Theo is the bestest boy.” “Good. Then I’ll take you inside,” Chace said, his voice shifting. With a single fluid motion, he strode past me, carrying Theo into the preschool. I scurried behind them, marveling at how easily he’d handled it. A kid was just a kid. How could he possibly outsmart Chace? The memory of how thoroughly Chace used to run circles around me still brought a sting to my eyes. 2 After dropping off Theo, I’d have to hit every green light to make it to work on time. But it was rush hour. Getting a ride wasn’t going to be easy. “Where are you going?” Chace asked, his voice cold. “To work,” I said evasively. It was awkward enough running into an ex, let alone one with our history. “I’ll give you a ride,” he stated, his face a blank mask. “Using a public vehicle for personal business on company time…” I clicked my tongue, my face a picture of disapproval. Even on the verge of being late, a taxpayer had to defend her rights. Chace pressed a button on his key fob, and a black SUV parked nearby beeped. I jumped. He got in, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “You seem to know a lot. I just finished the night shift. I’m on my way home to sleep, and this is my personal car.” “Oh.” Mortified, I quickly looked down at my phone. The rideshare app was useless; not a single car was available. “Scared to get in? Zara, you used to be so brave. You think I’m going to eat you?” Chace rested his arm on the open window, his expression openly challenging. I have many virtues, but resisting a dare is not one of them. “Scared of you? Please…” I opened the door and slid into the passenger seat. “102 Lakeside Drive. Thanks.” Chace hit the gas, and the SUV pulled out into traffic. It was like the traffic gods were smiling down on me. We didn’t hit a single red light. I clenched my fists in excitement. My perfect attendance bonus was safe. “Why are you shaking?” Chace glanced at me from the corner of his eye. His profile was chiseled, like something out of a sculpture gallery, flawless from every angle. “I’m not shaking,” I said stubbornly, quickly placing my hands primly on my knees. “Is Theo your son?” Chace asked. “Would he be calling me ‘Mom’ if he wasn’t?” I shot back. I was surprised. He was the one who left me. Why did he care now if Theo was my son? It was none of his business. “You’re married?” His voice was low, betraying no emotion, but it sent an uncomfortable chill down my spine. I suddenly pictured him in an interrogation room, questioning a suspect. He was questioning me the same way. “Yes.” That should have been the end of it. But I forgot that Chace wasn’t a normal person. The conversation only ended when he decided it was over. A guy with his personality would never find a girlfriend in today’s world. I must have been blinded by his looks back then, falling for his tricks before I knew what was happening. Later, when his interest faded, I had enough self-respect to leave quietly. “Where is he? Why didn’t he come with you to drop Theo off today?” Chace was relentless. Once he wanted to know something, he wouldn’t let it go. “That’s my private business,” I protested. “When was Theo born? What month, what year?” I… 3 If we weren’t in his car, I would have cursed him and his entire family tree. But I knew him. The more I tried to hide things about Theo, the more suspicious he’d become. Fine. I’d fall back on a classic cliché. That would shut him up and stop him from demanding to meet my “husband.” “Since you’re so concerned about your ex-girlfriend, and it’s not like it’s some dark secret… after we broke up, my family set me up on a blind date. My husband was very wealthy, a big deal in business. We were always apart because of his work, and then… he died in a car accident before Theo was even a year old… I’ve been raising Theo by myself all these years, doing everything for him, being both a mother and a father…” I covered my face, my head bowed in sorrow. You have to commit to the performance. It worked. Chace stopped asking questions. But the veins on the back of his hands stood out against the steering wheel. The atmosphere in the car instantly tensed, the temperature dropping by at least ten degrees. Since he didn’t respond, I couldn’t muster any real tears. I kept my face hidden and turned to look out the window. Through the gaps in my fingers, I watched the city blur past, desperately wishing, Are we there yet? I knew it. I would have rather lost the bonus than get in this car. “I’m sorry.” What? I thought I’d misheard. “What did you just say?” I asked. “I don’t repeat myself.” I shot him a dirty look. What was he apologizing for now? Just then, his phone rang. It sounded like a call for backup. He exchanged a few brief words and hung up. He pulled the car over to the side of the road and turned to face me. “Your office is just around the corner. You can run from here. I have to go, I’m needed on a call.” “Okay,” I said, getting out. I watched him speed away without a second glance back. The same person, the same situation. It was like we were back four years ago. During his second year as a cop, he was always on call. No matter where we were or what we were doing, one phone call and he was gone. I understood all of it. I never threw a fit or gave him a hard time. But he never knew how hard the lonely nights were, how much I worried every time I watched him leave. Well, that was all over now. I had Theo to keep me company. As for Chace, some other woman could worry about him now. I clocked into work with one minute to spare. With that kind of luck, it was bound to be a great day. Or so I thought. Just as I was about to clock out, my boss dropped an urgent task on my desk. Damn it. I had to rush. I had promised Theo I’d be the first one to pick him up today. After finishing my work, I sprinted out of the office faster than anyone. By the time I reached the preschool, I felt like I was half-dead. And I was still too late. Parents were already leaving with their children. Theo was probably standing by the gate all by himself again, waiting for me. I was still trying to figure out how to explain being late when I looked up and saw Chace. He was here again. And he was holding my son. 4 He’d changed out of his uniform and was wearing casual clothes. His arms, exposed below the short sleeves, were a sun-kissed bronze, all corded muscle. The simple t-shirt clung to his broad chest, looking even better than the uniform. He was holding Theo with one arm. At six-foot-one, with broad shoulders and long legs, he cut an impressive figure. Every young mother and pretty teacher that walked by did a double-take. Figures. The man was still a walking hazard. “Mommy!” Theo reached his little arms out for me. That sweet little voice melted my heart. “Mommy’s here,” I said, taking him from Chace and hugging him tight, planting a big kiss on his forehead. I hadn’t seen him all day, and my eyes started to sting. “Theo saw me when I got here and started crying for me, so I brought him out,” Chace explained. “Right. Thanks.” After I answered, it hit me. Are cops really this free? Why was he hanging around a preschool? “Wait, what are you doing here?” I asked, looking at him suspiciously. He wasn’t planning something, was he? Chace’s lips curved into a smile. He reached behind him and pulled out a little girl, hoisting her into his arms. “Picking up my kid.” I had been so focused on Theo that I hadn’t even noticed the little girl hiding behind his leg. I felt like a complete idiot. So much for thinking I was special. Four years was plenty of time for him to get married and have a child. We were broken up. He hadn’t done anything wrong. But a tidal wave of emotion washed over me—disappointment, hurt, a suffocating tightness in my chest. “We’re going now. Goodbye,” I said, my eyes downcast. I hugged Theo tighter and walked away quickly. Chace called my name from behind, but I ignored him. “Mommy, the officer is calling you,” Theo reminded me. “Don’t listen to him.” The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I had spent the last four years thinking about him, and now it was clear he’d probably forgotten all about me. If not for this chance encounter, we might have never seen each other again. “Good boys don’t lie. You heard him. And the officer said I’d get a present if I was good,” Theo argued, his loyalty clearly misplaced. His world now revolved around the police officer. “You want a pair of silver bracelets?” Theo burst into tears. I was completely caught off guard and had to spend the next few minutes hugging and soothing him. That night, Theo had a nightmare, mumbling about not wanting silver bracelets in his sleep. I was filled with regret. I had to stop scaring him like that. It was bad for both of us. The apartment was quiet, but I couldn’t sleep. I replayed the day’s events in my mind, thinking of Chace, of the little girl by his side, and my heart ached with a familiar sourness. 5 We got together because I was completely powerless against his good looks. Chace was at the police academy, and I was at the art school right across the street. It was like the two universities had planned it. Every day, droves of pretty art students would gaze across the street at the handsome future police officers, and the police cadets would shout their drills extra loud to attract the attention of the delicate young women. The fact that Chace and I hit it off stunned a lot of people, including me. I wasn’t anything special. I had a reasonably pretty face and a talent for drawing. For four years of college, Chace was my exclusive model. He seemed to enjoy it. He was a quiet person; when he wasn’t exercising, he was staring into space. He always corrected me, insisting he was “thinking,” not “spacing out.” I would just laugh and tell him his defensiveness was a dead giveaway. After graduation, he was assigned to a local precinct, and I found a job as a design assistant. As rookies in the professional world, we barely had any free time. Chace rented an apartment near my office and asked me to move in with him. It was only later that I realized he did it so I could sleep in a little longer in the mornings. I was terrible at waking up, often pulling all-nighters to finish projects. Those extra minutes of sleep were precious. Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction. We would be like most couples: save up some money, get married, have kids, and live a quiet life. But in his second year on the force, things changed. He was always working overtime, always taking calls. The rare date we had would inevitably be cut short by some emergency. I was committed to him, so none of that mattered. He was a cop; I understood the nature of his job. But some things you can’t fight. Love, like the tide, comes in and goes out. It was a harsh reality, but one I had to accept. Chace spoke to me less and less. We saw each other less and less. His coldness and avoidance felt like he was trying to push me into being the one to say it was over. I didn’t want to, but I wasn’t going to beg. After all those years together, I deserved better. It’s strange, but the day we broke up was the only time we were ever truly intimate. And I initiated it. I don’t know if that’s something to be proud of or sad about. I’d had a few drinks. I kicked open his bedroom door and pounced on him. He tried to resist, so I just grabbed his collar, buried my face in his chest, and cried. In the end, I got what I wanted. But the feeling between us was gone. If there was no feeling left, why cling to a one-sided love? I left quietly while he was away on a business trip. What happened next was like a cosmic joke. That one time… I got pregnant. Without a second thought, I had Theo and raised him by myself. As for Chace, it never even crossed my mind to tell him. In my sleep, I heard Theo whimpering about not wanting to go to preschool tomorrow. I turned and wrapped my arms around his small, soft body. When I touched my own face, I realized it was wet with tears. “I don’t want to go to preschool either. I’ll have to see him,” I whispered. I hoped Chace wouldn’t be the one dropping off his kid tomorrow. I sighed, found a comfortable position, and closed my eyes. 6 Well, damn. The next morning, I woke up sick. My usually indestructible body had finally given up. I was a mess, sniffling and weak. I was afraid of getting Theo sick, so I asked my friend Chloe to watch him for a few days. She was his godmother, a single woman with a hopeless weakness for adorable little boys like mine, but a deep-seated disdain for me. She was always telling me to find a good man and settle down. I always brushed her off. Good men weren’t exactly easy to find. Even though I was sick, I still had to work. How else was I going to support the two of us? Finally, my boss couldn’t take it anymore. I think the sight of me trying to give a presentation while simultaneously blowing my nose, wiping my eyes, and speaking in a hoarse croak was too much for him. He mercifully gave me two days off. Sleeping in on a workday was pure bliss. The sickness came on strangely, but it left just as quickly. After a few days of rest, I was mostly better. I called Chloe to arrange picking Theo up, only to find out she was at a birthday party! “Where is my son? What did you do with him?” Chloe was full of apologies. “Just tell me where he is! I’m going to get him!” Could a best friend be any more unreliable? She hemmed and hawed, but I finally cornered her until she confessed. “23 River Road, Apartment 5-3-202.” I froze. I would never forget that address. It was where Chace and I had lived four years ago. A dark premonition washed over me. This was not going to be simple. “Chloe, I swear I’m going to kill you!” I was at my wit’s end. “Now, Zara, don’t be like that. You’ve been raising Theo alone for all these years, for what? Chace is his father, and he hasn’t done a single thing. What’s wrong with him watching his own son for a few days? Why are you so stubborn? If you ask me, you never should have hidden it from him. Maybe you two would have never broken up.” Was I wrong? No. You can’t force someone to walk the same path as you. He was married with a child now. I couldn’t be the one to wreck his family. “It’s impossible for Chace and me. He’s married,” I sighed. Chloe started to say something else, but I hung up, grabbed my bag and coat, and headed out to get my son. I hailed a cab, but the traffic was a nightmare. I’d hit rush hour again. The scenery was mostly the same as it had been four years ago. Chace had rented this place because it was close to my office. After we broke up, I moved out and never came back. I now lived in a small loft apartment that I’d bought outright. It was a bit out of the way, and I spent almost an hour commuting each day. But I bought it because it was far away. Far enough to avoid him. To never see him again. And now, after running in circles, I was right back where I started. I took a shaky breath, stood at the door, and rang the bell. 7 The doorbell was the same one I’d programmed. When you pressed it outside, a recording of my voice would play inside: “Chace and Zara, you have a visitor!” What was once sweet was now excruciatingly awkward. Why hadn’t he changed it?! The door opened. Chace was in loose-fitting loungewear, with Theo perched on his shoulders. Their faces were smeared with face paint, and they were holding toy guns. They had clearly been playing soldiers. Theo’s eyes were shining with an excitement he couldn’t hide. I could see he liked Chace. Did he even want him to be his father? I quickly squashed the ridiculous thought. Chace was married. Theo and I couldn’t become a joke. “Mommy! The officer and I are playing guns! We’re special forces! Come in, Mommy!” Theo tugged on my arm, but I remained rooted to the spot outside the door. The excitement on Chace’s face faded. “Come in,” he said. “It’s not Chloe’s fault. I was the one who asked to have Theo over.” I scoffed. “Don’t you have to work?” “I took some vacation time. I haven’t had a vacation in four years,” he said, his eyes fixed on me. The words were loaded. He deliberately emphasized four years. We had been apart for exactly four years. “Well, thanks for the trouble. I’m here to take Theo home.” My gaze shifted past him to my son. “Theo, go get your backpack. We’re going home,” I said, bending down to urge him. Theo looked reluctant, glancing back and forth between me and Chace. He clearly wasn’t done playing. I grabbed his little arm, my face hardening. “Theo, be a good boy and come home with Mommy. It’s not nice to bother people.” “But Mommy, you said if we’re in trouble, we should find a police officer. He’s not people,” he said, then looked up at Chace and smiled. My patience was wearing thin. I scooped him up in my arms. “Let’s go!” Theo immediately started to cry, reaching for Chace. “I don’t wanna go! I wanna play with the officer…” he wailed, just like he had at the preschool gate. The sound echoed through the hallway, making my ears ring. Chace grabbed my arm, his face grim. “Don’t make him cry. Give him to me, I’ll calm him down.” A fire ignited in my chest. “I’m his mother. I don’t need you to teach me how to raise my child!” My shout only made Theo cry harder. “Let go!” Chace’s expression grew even darker. His grip on my arm tightened. With a struggling son in my arms and his demanding father by my side, the situation was spiraling out of control. I could feel sweat trickling down my back. A few neighbors walked by with their groceries. “Oh, dear,” one of them said. “A little lovers’ quarrel, upsetting the child. Just take her inside and make up, dear.” 8 Before I could explain that he wasn’t my husband and we were not a “little couple,” the world tilted. Chace had swept both me and my son up into his arms and carried us inside. His strength was impressive, but I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles. Everything in the apartment was exactly as it had been four years ago. From the big things, like the sofa and table we’d bought online together, to the small things, like the ceramic rabbits from the night market and the stuffed animal he’d won for me playing darts—everything was in its original place. It was like time had rewound. Chace stood before me, hands on his hips, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. It was still cut short, stiff and a little severe. “We need to talk about this from the beginning,” he said, watching my expression carefully. “That day at the preschool, Theo saw me and ran right into my arms. Chloe was there too, but he wouldn’t go with her, so I brought him home for a few days… I’m on vacation, anyway.” He was explaining, but I found the whole thing ridiculous. I smirked. “What are you smiling at?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing.” I didn’t want to say it. How could he come up with such a lame excuse? Instead of spending his vacation with his wife and child, he was babysitting mine for free? Wasn’t his wife jealous? “Are you hiding something from me?” Chace blocked my path, his gaze darting between me and Theo. I froze. My worst fear was coming true. I was going to kill Chloe when I got my hands on her. “I think that’s my line,” I retorted, referring to the little girl, Amy. If he was married, he should act like it, and stop playing these games. Chace’s eyes dropped, like a student caught cheating. “I want to talk to you. Just the two of us. A real conversation,” he said, his voice almost pleading. “There’s no need. You two live your lives, and don’t bother me and my son. We’ll be fine,” I said, getting up to leave. Chace frowned, a look of confusion on his face. I snorted internally. Men. Always wanting what they can’t have. Chloe had once told me that once a woman sleeps with a man, he subconsciously considers her his. Chace was clearly suffering from a case of that delusion. Get a grip! I was my own person. He was his. And more importantly, he was married. I had no interest in being a homewrecker. I picked up Theo and left without a second thought. The sound of the door closing behind me felt like it was finally severing the last ties of those four years. Chace watched us go, looking dejected. His lips moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said. Back home, I asked Theo about his time there. He excitedly told me about all the games he played and the food he ate at the officer’s house, and that his godmother had visited him. The mention of Chloe reignited my anger. I called her. She was on a business trip in some far-off country. I yelled at her for a solid twenty minutes before she even mentioned she was abroad. I was so mad I started crying, which only made me madder when I realized I was ruining my expensive makeup. How many freelance gigs would it take to replace that? “Mommy, why are you crying?” Theo came over with his favorite Super Wings toy and wiped my tears with his chubby little hand. I sniffled and pulled him into a hug. If it weren’t for this little guy, would I be working myself to the bone like this? Sometimes I thought about finding a man and settling down. But who could guarantee that marriage would make life easier? It would just be a different set of problems. Besides, my first love had set the bar too high. After Chace, no one else seemed to measure up. It was my own mess to clean up. I just had to suck it up and deal with it.

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Liam Carter, the boy I’d sponsored for ten years, was now Hollywood’s biggest star. That night, as he won Best Actor at the Starlight Awards, I watched proudly from the crowd. When asked who he wanted to thank, he looked straight at me. The spotlight hit my face—I froze. Then he turned to the camera, voice cold with disgust. “I thank this woman for showing me what harassment means.” He called my letters and support obsession, claiming his success was his alone. The audience erupted. Hate flooded online. Then, on the big screen, a promo reel appeared under the title “CEO” — displaying my name, Rebecca Sterling. 1. Public Humiliation “Oh my god, that’s her? She looks so normal. How can she be some kind of psycho stalker?” “Ten years? Jesus, poor Liam. I can’t imagine being hounded by someone like that.” “Gross. Get her away from me. I don’t want to catch her crazy.” I sat frozen in my seat, unable to move. My phone vibrated violently in my pocket. I didn’t have to look to know that my face, branded with the label “psychotic stalker,” was already going viral across the entire internet. On stage, Liam was basking in it. He looked at me, his eyes gleaming with the sweet satisfaction of revenge. The ceremony ground to a halt as security guards started moving toward me. I forced myself to stand, and under a thousand gazes of contempt and morbid curiosity, I walked toward the exit. As I passed the VIP section, a woman in a dazzling pink designer gown suddenly stuck out her foot. I stumbled, pitching forward, my knee cracking hard against the marble floor. “Oh my! I am so sorry… ma’am,” she chirped. Chloe Vance, the studio’s new rising star. She covered her mouth in mock horror, but her eyes were crescent moons of pure glee. “I didn’t do it on purpose. Why were you in such a hurry? Rushing off to find your next victim to harass?” A wave of muffled laughter rippled through the nearby seats. I pushed against the floor, trying to get up, but a sharp, searing pain shot through my knee. A pair of polished leather shoes stopped right in front of my face. It was Liam. He looked down at me as if I were a piece of trash on the sidewalk. “Are you done making a scene?” His voice was quiet, but every word was a dagger to the heart. “You’re embarrassing me, Ms. Sterling.” I looked up at him. His face, flawless under the stage lights, was a mask of cold fury. “I warned you to stay away from me.” Chloe immediately wrapped her arm around his, a clear gesture of ownership. “Liam, honey, don’t get upset,” she cooed, her voice trembling theatrically. “Don’t let someone like her ruin your night. She’s terrifying. What if she has a knife?” Liam patted her hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry. I’m here.” His gaze on me turned three shades colder. “Security, get her out of here.” “And from now on, this woman is banned from any event I attend. Do you understand?” Two guards grabbed my arms, their grips rough and punishing. They half-dragged, half-carried me toward a backstage exit. As we passed an empty dressing room, Liam’s voice cut through the air from behind us. “Wait.” The guards stopped. Liam strode over and waved them away. The door clicked shut, leaving the two of us alone in the cramped space. He tossed a heavy cardboard box at my feet. “This,” he spat, “is all the trash you ever sent me.” “You can have it back.” “I never read a single word.” Spilling out from the box were the hundreds of letters I had written him over the last decade. Every single one held my hopes, my encouragement, my belief in him. And he had just called them trash. He leaned in, his voice a venomous whisper in my ear. “You know what? Every time I saw your self-righteous face, it made me sick to my stomach.” “You thought a little money made you my savior?” “Let me tell you something, Rebecca Sterling. The thing I hate most in this world is being looked at like a stray dog.” “Your cheap charity was the greatest insult of my life.” My entire body went rigid. He knew my name. He’d known it all along. “You…” “Surprised?” He straightened up, a cruel smirk twisting his perfect lips. “I looked you up ages ago. Founder of some small-time production company. What, did you really think you were somebody?” He raised a hand as if to pat my cheek, then seemed to think better of it, as if I were too dirty to touch. Instead, he flicked a piece of imaginary lint from my collar. “Stop dreaming.” “You and I are not in the same world.” With that, he turned and pulled the door open. Chloe was waiting for him, a flash of triumph in her eyes before she plastered on her innocent façade. “Liam, let’s go! The after-party is about to start.” “Yeah.” Liam walked away without a backward glance. The door slowly swung shut in front of me. I stared at the scattered letters on the floor. The pain in my knee, the pain in my heart—it all blended into one unbearable ache. My phone finally stopped vibrating. I pulled it out. The last message was from my assistant. “Rebecca, the company’s website… it’s been hacked.” 2. The Unveiling I didn’t go home. I had my driver take me straight to the office. The high-rise was deserted at midnight, a silent monolith with a single light shining from my office window. My assistant, Sarah, was pacing frantically outside my door. The moment she saw my torn stocking, the raw scrape on my knee, and my disheveled state, her eyes welled up. “Rebecca, you…” “I’m fine.” I pushed open the office door. “What’s the word from the PR department?” “It’s no use.” Sarah’s voice cracked. “This was a planned attack. The sheer volume of bots and trolls is overwhelming. Our official statement was buried in seconds. The entire internet is calling for your head, and someone’s already doxxed the company’s address. They’re planning to protest outside tomorrow.” I walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing down at the river of headlights flowing through the city below. “And Liam?” “The after-party… is still going. He and Chloe are trending number one worldwide. The headline is ‘A Match Made in Heaven.’” How ironic. I built the pedestal he stands on, and the moment he reached the top, he grabbed another woman’s hand and kicked me off, letting the world cheer as I fell. Sarah dabbed antiseptic on my knee, the stinging pain pulling me back to the present. “Rebecca, we have to call the police! This is slander!” “It won’t work.” I shook my head. “He’s too smart for that. He only ever said ‘that woman,’ never using my name. The more I fight back now, the more it will look like I’m just a woman scorned, proving his point.” “Then… then what do we do?” I didn’t answer. My eyes fell on a picture frame on my desk. It was a photo from ten years ago. In it, a scrawny boy in an ill-fitting school uniform stared back, his lips pressed into a defiant line. His eyes, though, were like a wolf pup’s—fierce and untamed. That was the first time I met Liam Carter. No, back then, his name was Jed. In a forgotten, poverty-stricken town in the middle of nowhere, he’d been caught stealing a loaf of bread and was tied to a tree in the town square, being beaten. Everyone called him a no-good orphan, a little thief. I was the only one who walked over and cut the ropes. “Why did you steal it?” I asked him. He just stared at me, silent, clutching the dirty bread to his chest as if it were treasure. I found out later it was his little sister’s birthday. She hadn’t eaten in three days. I took him out of that town. I gave him a new name: Liam Carter. A name that sounded clean, respectable. A gentleman’s name. I sent him to the best schools, paid for all his and his sister’s living expenses, her medical bills. I wrote him letters, telling him to stand tall, to get an education, to see the bigger world waiting for him. The day he was accepted into the conservatory, he called me for the first time. His voice was trembling with excitement. “Rebecca, I got in! I’m going to make so much money one day. I’ll pay you back for everything!” That was the first and only time he called me by my name with anything resembling warmth. I cherished it for years. Later, when he broke into the industry, I worried my role as his benefactor might hold him back, so I founded Sterling Entertainment, pulling every string I had to make him a star. I stepped out of the spotlight and became the mysterious “Ms. Sterling” behind the scenes. I thought I was the one person he trusted above all others. It turns out, the entire thing was a one-woman show. My phone chimed. A direct message from an unknown account. It was Chloe. “Hey, Rebecca. Hope you’re not too upset about tonight. Liam’s just like that. He’s not a bad person, just… principled. He hates being lied to.” “He said people like you, who use a little charity to try and control someone’s life, are the most disgusting of all.” “Oh, and by the way? He also said that just looking at those letters you wrote made his skin crawl. He burned them all in the dressing room after the show.” “You need to learn your place, ma’am. Don’t reach for things that don’t belong to you. You know?” Every word was a needle dipped in poison, aimed directly at my most vulnerable spots. I turned off my phone. “Sarah,” I said, my voice steady. “Get Legal and PR on the line. I want a full executive meeting tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock sharp.” Sarah stared at me. “Rebecca, are you going to…?” I looked out at the black, starless sky and spoke each word with chilling precision. “I’m going to take back everything he ever got from me.” 3. The Counterattack At 8:50 a.m. the next morning, I walked into the lobby of Sterling Entertainment. It was swarming with reporters. A frenzy of camera flashes blinded me. “Ms. Sterling, do you have a comment on Liam Carter’s allegations?” “Can you confirm that you have been harassing him for a decade?” “Rumors say you’re the secret CEO of Sterling Entertainment. Is that true?” I wore dark sunglasses, my face an impassive mask as security cleared a path for me through the mob to the executive elevator. Just as the doors slid shut, I heard someone shout, “Don’t let her get away! Freaks like her deserve to be exposed!” At nine o’clock on the dot, I pushed open the door to the boardroom. Every senior executive, including the heads of Legal and PR, was present. My seat, at the head of the table, was empty. Instead, Liam, his manager Marcus, and Chloe were sitting beside it, looking perfectly at home. The moment Marcus saw me, his face hardened. “What are you doing here? Who let you in?” Chloe shrieked and scrambled to hide behind Liam. “Liam, honey, it’s her! How did she find us here? Is she going to try and hurt you?” Her voice was so sickeningly sweet it was practically dripping sugar, as if I were some kind of rabid animal. Liam patted her back, then looked up at me, his eyes full of annoyance and disgust. “You again. What the hell do you want now?” “Wasn’t humiliating yourself in front of the entire country enough? Now you follow me to the office? Have you no shame at all?” I ignored him and walked toward the head of the table. Marcus immediately jumped up to block my path, puffing out his chest. “Ma’am, this is a private executive meeting. Unauthorized personnel need to leave immediately, or we will have you removed.” “Yeah, get her out of here!” Chloe added, peeking out from behind Liam. “She’s a psycho! The real CEO will be here any minute. We can’t have someone like her tarnishing the company’s image!” “The CEO?” I repeated the words slowly, a bitter smile playing on my lips. I scanned the room. The executives seated around the table either stared at their notes, avoiding my gaze, or watched with smug amusement. They all knew who I was. But in this moment, not a single one of them moved to defend me. It’s human nature to side with the powerful. And right now, Liam Carter was the company’s golden goose, their cash cow. I was just a social pariah, the “stalker” the whole world was laughing at. Liam, clearly accustomed to this level of deference, leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs, speaking to me with the magnanimity of a king addressing a peasant. “Look, I’ll admit you helped me out a few times in the past. So I’m willing to let last night go.” He pulled a black credit card from his wallet and tossed it on the table. “There’s a million dollars on this. Take it, and get out of my sight. I never want to see you again.” A million dollars. The bone marrow transplant I’d paid for his sister cost more than that. Chloe let out an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, Liam, you’re too kind! After everything she did to you, you’re still giving her money? You’re just too good for this world!” She picked up the card, walked over, and held it out to me like she was feeding a dog. “You hear that, ma’am? One million dollars. That’s more than someone like you could spend in a lifetime. Take the money and get lost before you embarrass yourself further.” She tried to shove the card into my hand. I didn’t take it. Her hand hung in the air, a flush of anger creeping up her neck. “What’s your problem? Not enough? A million is a gift. Don’t be so ungrateful!” Liam’s patience finally snapped. “Security!” he roared. “Get this woman out of my building! I don’t want to see her face for another second!” Several guards rushed in and moved toward me. The entire boardroom watched in cold silence. In their eyes, I was about to be thrown out like a dog, kicked out of the very empire I had built from the ground up. I finally lifted my gaze, looking past them all to my assistant, Sarah. “Sarah.” My voice was quiet, calm. Sarah understood immediately. She picked up the internal phone on the conference table. “Please send Mr. Albright from Legal and Ms. Davis from HR to the main boardroom. And notify building security to escort these gentlemen out.” She gestured to the guards who had just stormed in. The boardroom fell silent. Utterly, completely silent.

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After I was brought back from the family farm, I found myself in an arranged marriage with Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. And I inherited a son. An isolated, supposedly violent one. The first time I tried to show him a little kindness, I heard his inner thoughts: [She’s just like all the other women. She’ll talk trash about me to my dad, and I’ll get an even worse beating.] So I decided to be direct. I took his small hand in mine. “Sweetheart, I’m here now. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” Later, when the marriage contract was up, Eric and I went our separate ways. But the little guy packed his suitcase and chased after me. “Mom,” he said, his eyes wide. “Can I come home with you and raise pigs?” 1 I hadn’t been back from the farm for long before my family married me off to Eric Kensington, the CEO of Kensington Corp. On my first night in his mansion, I couldn’t sleep. The bed was too soft. I went downstairs for a walk. And I stumbled upon Tim being punished. He was such a tiny thing, kneeling all alone in the courtyard. He was wearing a light green short-sleeved shirt with a dark brown tie. It was an adorable, formal little outfit. But I’d heard the stories. Eric’s son was isolated, violent, and utterly incorrigible. Everyone in our circle knew the Kensingtons had more or less given up on him. Still, it was a chilly autumn night, with a light rain misting the air. My heart ached for him. I grabbed a blanket and headed outside. Mr. Harrison, the butler, intercepted me, his voice as cold as the evening air. “Miss Thorne, the young master has a volatile temperament. It would be wise to keep your distance, lest you get hurt.” In the shadows, the light in Tim’s eyes dimmed. I saw his chubby little fists clench and unclench at his sides. His lips were pale, and he looked like he was about to pass out. He didn’t look like he could hurt a fly. I went upstairs to find Eric. He had just stepped out of the shower, a single white towel knotted low around his waist. Above it, his torso was a landscape of taut muscles, the clean lines of his V-cut abs disappearing beneath the towel. With the addition of the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, he was a potent mix of discipline and raw appeal. I’d never seen a man that handsome back on the farm. But no amount of good looks could excuse his neglectful parenting. “Mr. Kensington,” I began, my voice trembling slightly, “Tim is only five years old. Whatever he did, it’s no excuse to make him kneel for hours in the cold rain.” Eric’s brow furrowed, clearly annoyed by my interference. “Do you know him? Do you have any idea what he’s done? Miss Thorne, I’d advise you not to meddle in things you don’t understand.” “But his health…” “Harrison,” Eric called out, his voice flat. “Bring him up.” The butler was back in moments with the boy. “For tonight, out of respect for Miss Thorne, the punishment is suspended. Go to bed.” Tim shot me a surprised look, then mumbled a listless, “Okay.” He turned and walked back to his room. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Maybe Eric wasn’t as heartless as the rumors claimed. He could be reasoned with. “Mr. Kensington, I…” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” A black shadow darted past me. Tim had returned, charging at Eric like a miniature bull. Eric was prepared, scooping him up with one arm. But he wasn’t prepared for Tim’s other hand, which shot out and grabbed the one thing holding his dignity in place. His towel. It went flying through the air. The cool night breeze whistled a cheerful tune. Shocking! Thrilling! Magnificent. And… CRASH. The sound of a cup shattering on the floor. Mrs. Gable, the housekeeper, had come up with coffee and was now frozen in place, gasping. The butler’s eyes were wide as saucers. Two staff members, two statues of pure shock. “We saw nothing! We absolutely, positively saw nothing!” they stammered in unison. What was the big deal? I blinked, then took another good look. A low, menacing voice rumbled from above me. “Have you seen enough?” I had never seen so many colors on a person’s face. A kaleidoscope of emotions—shock, rage, and pure mortification—warred on his face. I cleared my throat. “Don’t be shy. I’ve seen them neuter boars back home. It’s pretty much the same thing…” “Shut up.” The bedroom door slammed shut with a resounding BANG. I could hear Eric’s voice, laced with warning. “Tim, you’ve gone too far. If you ever bite me again, I’ll pull out all your teeth.” 2 I remembered the smug looks on my step-sister and her mother’s faces before the wedding. “Eric Kensington is completely uninterested in women, and his son is a little monster. So many women have tried to marry into that family and run away screaming. I bet you anything Thea won’t last three months before they drive her insane.” “Your boss… he doesn’t hit people, does he?” I asked the housekeeper. Mrs. Gable shot me a disapproving look. “Is it really ‘hitting’ when a parent disciplines their child?” From inside the room, I could hear Tim’s shrieks as he was being spanked. “So, why was he being punished in the first place?” “The young master pushed Miss Victoria down the stairs. She’s still in the hospital, unconscious.” Victoria. I’d heard the name. Eric’s “white moonlight”—the one that got away. “If it weren’t for the young master constantly getting in the way, Miss Victoria would be the one married to him now.” Still. One thing had nothing to do with the other. I kicked the bedroom door open. Father and son both snapped their heads toward me. Tim’s pale, soft cheeks were stained with tears. He looked utterly pitiful. “Mr. Kensington, so I saw you naked. What’s the big deal? You’re perfectly average-sized. Is it really necessary to take out your embarrassment on a child?” Eric’s face was a thundercloud. When I was Tim’s age, someone once held an umbrella over my head in a storm, and that simple act of kindness lit up my entire childhood. Now, I wanted to be that umbrella for him. I crouched down. “How about some tomato and egg noodle soup? I’m a great cook.” I reached out and ruffled his hair like he was a puppy. It was thick and soft, wonderfully fluffy. Before I could get another pat in, he squirmed out of Eric’s arms, leaned down, and bit my hand. “Get away from me, you ugly monster,” he snarled, then bolted downstairs. I looked at the perfect set of teeth marks on my skin. He was strong. It was bleeding. Beside me, Eric’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “So, Miss Thorne, still feel like making him that soup?” “Yes,” I said. “I do.” 3 After bandaging my hand, I went to the kitchen to make the soup. Mrs. Gable came in on her way downstairs, her voice cool and distant. “Miss Thorne, if you think you can win the master’s affection by sucking up to his son, you’re mistaken.” “The master loves Miss Victoria. He won’t eat your soup. And the young master is a picky eater. He won’t touch it either.” She was trying to put me in my place. I gave her a bright smile. “Is that so? Well, until your Miss Victoria marries into this family, I’m the lady of this house. And whether I make soup or not isn’t your decision to make. It’s mine.” Mrs. Gable was stunned, clearly not expecting me to have a spine. “Now, get out.” “Right away, ma’am.” As soon as she left, I saw Tim in the living room with a toy car. He was pretending to play, but he was watching my every move. Suddenly, I heard it. A voice, clear as day, inside my head. [Wow, she told Mrs. Gable, the tattletale, to get lost. That was awesome. But she looks so… country. She has a part in her hair like a little road.] Huh? The high-tech, screen-equipped refrigerator reflected my image back at me. And yes, there it was, a very distinct part in my hair. I’d have to start taking better care of myself now that I was a lady of leisure. No more farm work. From now on, it was all about cultivating elegance and enjoying the good life. [I just bit her. Why would she be nice and make me soup? Is she like the other women? Is she going to pretend to trip and spill it, then blame me so Dad hits me again?] [But I’m so hungry…] Grrrrumble. I was shocked. My instincts had been right. This child wasn’t isolated and violent. He was just a poor, lonely little soul. [Forget it. I’m not eating. She’s probably just like the rest of them. She’ll go tell Dad all sorts of bad things about me and make him hate me even more.] My heart broke for him. I changed my strategy. Time to be direct. I ladled the soup into a child’s bowl shaped like a kitten’s head. Then I walked over and took his hand. My voice was soft. “Sweetheart, from now on, I’m here. No one will ever be able to falsely accuse you again.” 4 Tim froze, completely stunned. A second later, he sniffed dismissively. [That’s what Victoria said, too. And then she started blaming me for everything.] [The prettier the woman, the bigger the liar. I don’t believe her.] With that, he scurried away. I had made an extra bowl for Eric, so I carried both of them upstairs. The tomato broth was rich and thick, the eggs fluffy and soaked in flavor. A sprinkle of bright green scallions on top made it look irresistible. The light was on in his study. I knocked once and pushed the door open. “I made soup.” Eric looked at me, his expression unreadable, his tone distant and laced with a warning. “Miss Thorne, there’s no one else here. You know perfectly well why we’re married. Don’t start aspiring to things that don’t belong to you. When our three years are up, we go our separate ways. There’s no need to put on a show of being the perfect wife and mother.” He never would have had to marry me if my father hadn’t set him up, making sure he woke up in my bed. It was only natural that he disliked me. Still, I rolled my eyes at him. “I made it for Tim. I just brought you a bowl as an afterthought.” I tried to hold my tongue, but I couldn’t. I may be good-natured, but I have a temper. “Mr. Kensington, you may be a rich and powerful CEO, but not every woman who sees you is going to fall for you. Don’t be so conceited.” He stared at me, speechless. “Tim is just a little boy. If he goes hungry, it could cause stomach problems later in life. He’s your son. The least you could do is be grateful that I’m kind enough to feed him, but instead you’re being sarcastic and accusatory. Are you even sure he’s yours?” My words seemed to deepen the storm clouds on his face. He was clearly not pleased with a woman who dared to talk back to him. But his upbringing won out. He didn’t say anything to me, just turned and told Mrs. Gable to bring Tim in. Tim entered cautiously, his eyes darting between me and his father. “Dad,” he whispered. Eric gestured with his chin toward the soup on the desk. “Eat it.” It was a cold command, not a fatherly invitation. “Okay.” Tim carefully picked up his chopsticks and began to slurp the noodles. [Dad actually noticed I haven’t eaten. Does that mean… he doesn’t hate me as much today?] At his core, he was just a little boy starved for affection. “Slow down, you’ll choke.” Tim’s head snapped up, his face a mask of astonishment. [She… she really didn’t try to trick me? She just made me soup? Is it poisoned?] But he was a child, and his memory was short. Soon, his feet were swinging happily under the chair. [This is so good!] Who said he was difficult? He was actually quite easy to please. He finished the bowl quickly, licked his lips, and stared longingly at Eric’s portion. He wanted more but didn’t dare ask. It was a pretty big bowl. I wasn’t sure if a child should eat that much so late at night. Then Eric spoke. “It’s late. No more. Go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.” Tim mumbled an “okay” and left. Once he was gone, I started to clear the bowls, including Eric’s untouched one. “Mr. Kensington, I overstepped tonight. I won’t make food for Tim without your permission again.” I was about to leave when he stopped me. His eyes were deep, intense. “If you can remember your place, you may do as you wish in this house without asking for my permission.” Oh-ho. A classic move. Feign retreat to advance. Was he giving me power? The hearts of men. So complicated. I smiled and placed his soup back in front of him. “Don’t worry, Mr. Kensington. I know you have someone else in mind for the role of Mrs. Kensington. I’m only in this for the money.” He tossed a black card onto the desk. “See that you remember that.” 5 Eric was a busy man. So busy that, despite living under the same roof, we barely saw each other. One afternoon, I discovered a whole row of motorcycles in his garage. I immediately went to find Mrs. Gable, who pointed me to a room where the keys were kept. Rich people’s car keys lived in their own separate room, apparently. I picked the most impressive-looking one. But before I could even get it out of the driveway, Tim was brought home by the butler, Mr. Harrison. Harrison was on the phone with Eric. “Yes, sir. The young master got into another fight.” “He’s home now. The damages have been paid.” “Very good, sir. Goodbye.” After hanging up, the butler fixed Tim with a grim stare, looking for all the world like my bald, terrifying middle school principal. “Young master, you remember the Kensington family rules, do you not? Kneel. Mrs. Gable, bring the ruler.” Tim’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Mr. Harrison, I really didn’t hit him! Please, just tell Dad…” “Mr. Harrison, perhaps we should wait for Mr. Kensington…” Mrs. Gable began. “Mrs. Gable, the master has entrusted the young master’s discipline to me, and I will see it done.” He turned back to the boy. “Young master, the security footage is quite clear. You hit him.” When Mrs. Gable returned with the ruler, Tim transformed into an enraged lion cub. He shoved her aside and scrambled under a table, his eyes red and brimming with unshed tears. [He started it! He hit me first! Why doesn’t anyone ever believe me?] He swept a crystal fruit bowl off the coffee table, sending it crashing to the floor. He kicked over an antique vase. “Fine! I did it!” he screamed, his voice raw. “I hit him, and I wanted to kill him!” “And I’m going to kill you, too! Get away from me!” “I’ll kill all of you!” “Mrs. Gable, call for backup!” A team of security guards in sharp suits entered, surrounding the small boy. “Lock the young master in his room for now. We’ll wait for the master to return for the full punishment.” Sheer terror flashed in Tim’s eyes. He began to struggle violently. “No! I won’t go! Get off me! All of you, get off me!” He screamed. He bit. Several guards quickly pinned him down. No matter how much he thrashed, he couldn’t break free. He was locked in a room. A dark room. There was nothing inside. When the door closed, his hysterical screams echoed through the hall. “I hate you! I’m going to kill all of you!” So it really wasn’t him. But for some reason, no one ever believed him. And in his anger, he would just lash out with threats, which only made things worse. This kind of violent suppression was only going to backfire. “Give him to me.” Mr. Harrison frowned. “Miss Thorne, this is a family matter. I must insist you stay out of it.” “To hell with your ‘family matter,’” I spat, losing my temper completely. “If you’ve forgotten, go take a look at my marriage certificate! I’m taking Tim with me.” The butler didn’t budge. “Without a direct order from the master, no one is to go near the young master.” With that, he and the guards departed. Mrs. Gable hesitated. “Miss Thorne, when the master is away, Mr. Harrison is in charge of discipline. You can’t take him without an order. Besides… the young master really can be violent. He’s only trying to protect you.” After her warning, she left too. A heavy weight settled in my chest. I’ve never had children, but I knew this kind of treatment would lead to disaster. The sounds from the room grew fainter. The door was locked. The window… I slipped out of the house, avoiding the staff, and started climbing. Hand over hand, I scaled the wall to the second floor, inching my way along the window ledge. I smashed the glass. When I tumbled inside, the first thing I saw was a small, trembling ball curled up in the corner, whimpering softly. “Tim.” The figure in the corner flinched. His voice was small and fragile, like a wounded kitten’s. “Mommy? Is that you?” “Mommy, it’s so dark in here. I’m scared.” 6 The tiny bundle launched himself into my arms. As soon as he saw it was me, Tim’s expression stiffened, and he instinctively tried to push me away. “You…” “Shh!” I held him tight. “I’m getting you out of here. Don’t make a sound, or we’ll get caught.” His face was a mask of suspicion. “You scheming, wicked woman. What are you planning to do to me?” “Hold on tight. We’re on the second floor, and it’s a long way down. And my name isn’t ‘wicked woman.’ It’s Thea.” “Aren’t you afraid of Mr. Harrison? If he finds out, he’ll have the guards lock you up, too.” Despite his muttering, he clung to my neck like a little octopus. It had been a while since I’d climbed anything. I was out of practice. We finally made it down to the ground. I led him to the garage and found a tiny helmet for him. “Where are you taking me?” “I’m kidnapping you. Then I’m going to sell you.” The motorcycle roared to life. Mrs. Gable heard the noise and came out to investigate. Her eyes widened in horror. “Oh no! The young master has escaped… wait! You can’t ride that one! That’s the master’s favorite…!” I took Tim to a KFC and ordered him a mountain of food. He didn’t eat. He just stared at me, his eyes full of suspicion. “What do you really want?” “I told you, I’m going to sell you. The only son of the CEO of Kensington Corp must be worth a lot of money, right?” “I’m not worth anything.” Tim lowered his head, his long eyelashes hiding his expression. “Dad doesn’t like me. It’s no use selling me.” I placed my hand over his. “But I like you very much.” He looked up at me, shocked. A moment later, a blush spread across his soft cheeks. He looked flustered and shy, fidgeting with his chubby fingers. I covered his hands with mine. “You’re adorable, and I like you. But for now, let’s just eat, okay?” “Well… if you insist, I guess I can do you a favor and eat a little.” The little guy was starving. He devoured the food. Once he was finished, I could see his defenses were down. I seized the opportunity. “You ate my food, so now you have to tell me what happened at preschool. Why did you hit him?” “Because I felt like it.” “Use your words.” “I didn’t like the look of him, so I hit him.” [It doesn’t matter. No one will believe the truth anyway. They’ll just say I’m making excuses.] Poor baby. I ruffled his hair. “I’m guessing… he started it.” Tim’s head snapped up. He quickly looked down again, but the way he was wringing his hands betrayed his excitement. [How did she know Tiger was the one who started it?] “It was Tiger, wasn’t it? He hit you first.” Tim’s eyes went wide. He looked absolutely stunned. [She knows that, too? Does she also know he was bullying Daisy, and that’s why I hit him?] “Tiger was picking on Daisy, and you were defending her.” The little guy was so excited he nearly slid off his chair, a tuft of his hair sticking straight up. [She knows! She knows! She knows everything!] “Tiger is a bully, isn’t he? He picks on Daisy and the other kids, too.” [Aaaaaah! She’s an angel! She has little stars in her eyes!] I smiled and took his hand. When he didn’t pull away, I lifted him onto my lap. “I was right about everything, wasn’t I?” “I guess you’re pretty smart,” he mumbled, trying his best to look nonchalant despite being thrilled. He was a lot like Eric in that way. “Should we call your dad and tell him the truth?” Tim’s expression immediately turned anxious. After a long pause, he asked uncertainly, “But what if…” “There are no what-ifs. But you have to tell him exactly what I tell you to say. I promise, he’ll listen.” “Fine. I’ll give you one chance.” “Deal.” Just as I was about to dial, my phone rang. It was Eric. Time to face the music. The moment I answered, his cold voice came through the line. “Did you take Tim?” “About that fight at preschool, I think you need to hear the truth. I’ll let him tell you himself.” “Dad.” “Are you ready to admit you were wrong?” “I… I am…” I gave Tim’s ear a gentle squeeze, and he perked up. “Dad, Tiger started it. I didn’t mean to hit him.” Eric had probably heard that line a hundred times. He had zero patience left. “The teacher and the security cameras both say it was you, Tim. Are you really going to lie to my face?” Tim’s confidence wavered. He looked at me, his eyes filling with tears. I gave him a firm nod. Bolstered, he recounted the entire story, exactly as it happened. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Are you sure you’re not lying this time?” “I’m not, Dad.” “I see. I’ll look into it.” I hung up the phone and wiped Tim’s tears. “Feeling a little better?” He nodded enthusiastically, then looked a bit embarrassed. “But will Dad really investigate?” “Let’s give him a chance.” Even as I said it, my fingers were flying across my phone’s screen. I sent Eric a friend request with the note: Urgent. He accepted almost immediately. “To the busiest CEO in the world: Do your job. Investigate properly. Find out just how many times you and that teacher have wronged your son because of your own biases.” His reply was swift. “Where are you?” “Don’t worry. I may be the step-mom, but I won’t falsely accuse him, I won’t make him cry, and I certainly won’t sell him. I’ll bring him home tonight.”

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My parents, without my knowledge, took out a three-million-dollar life insurance policy in my name. That weekend, for the first time ever, my father took me fishing. He even bought me a hot dog, a treat usually reserved for my sister. He knelt down, his voice heavy as he straightened my collar. “Anna, please don’t blame your dad.” “Your sister needs to study abroad, and we just can’t afford it.” “Just think of this as helping the family one last time. It’ll be like falling asleep. You won’t feel a thing…” The moment the words left his mouth, he kicked me into the reservoir behind us. 1 Icy water flooded my nose and mouth. I couldn’t swim. Survival instinct kicked in, and I thrashed wildly, my arms and legs flailing in a desperate, chaotic dance. On the bank, my father watched me with cold indifference, as if observing a dying ant. Beside him, my mother pulled out her phone, seemingly checking the time. My sister, Karen, took out a compact mirror and meticulously reapplied her lipstick, a hint of impatience in her voice. “Dad, why is she taking so long? What if someone sees?” My mother soothed her. “Don’t worry, no one comes here at this hour. I checked. It only takes three to five minutes for an adult to drown. A child like her will be even quicker.” My father nodded, his voice devoid of any warmth. “We’ll wait a little longer. Once she sinks, we’ll call the police. We’ll say she slipped and fell in by accident.” My strength was fading, my vision blurring at the edges. Why? All because my sister wanted to attend a prestigious boarding school in England, with a tuition of a million dollars a year. And the beneficiaries of that three-million-dollar life insurance policy were my parents. So that was it. The hot dog I’d never been allowed to have before was my last meal. The first time my father had ever called me “sweetheart” was to send me to my death. A burning hatred filled me. A tearing pain ripped through my lungs as I choked on water. Just as I was about to lose consciousness, my body sinking into the cold darkness, a blinding light shot out from the distance. It was followed by a man’s furious, booming voice. “What the hell?! Who’s over there? Crew! Where the hell is the crew?!” “Is that someone in the water?! Get them out, now!” I heard the panicked shrieks of my parents and sister from the shore. “Someone’s here! Let’s go!” In the chaos, I heard a loud splash. I felt strong arms pulling me up, breaking the surface. The last thing I saw was the face of a young man in a black t-shirt, his features etched with frantic concern. 2 When I woke up, I was in a modified van, the kind celebrities use. A dry jacket that smelled faintly of tobacco was draped over me. A beautiful woman with flawless makeup and a chic haircut was gently toweling my hair dry. “You’re awake. How are you feeling?” I tried to speak, but my throat was on fire. No words came out. The beautiful woman handed me a glass of warm water. “Slowly now. You swallowed a lot of water; your throat is raw.” I took small sips, my eyes taking in my surroundings. Besides the beautiful woman, there was a man with silver hair leaning against the window, scrolling through his phone. He was more handsome than any movie star I’d ever seen. A burly man with a buzz cut sat in the driver’s seat, his brow furrowed in a deep scowl. I remembered him. He was the one who jumped in to save me. The van door slid open, and a middle-aged man with a scruffy beard and a wrinkled director’s vest poked his head in. “She’s awake?” His voice was the same gruff one I’d heard before I passed out. He looked me up and down, his tone impatient. “Hey, kid, where are your parents? What are you doing out by the reservoir in the middle of the night? If you’re looking to end it all, don’t do it next to our film set. Damn bad luck.” The beautiful woman shot him a glare. “Director! She’s just a child!” The man, the director, clicked his tongue. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes, but after a glance at me, he shoved them back in his pocket with an annoyed sigh. “Alright, alright. Faye, get her parents’ number. Let’s get them to pick her up so we can get back to filming.” My parents’ number… My body started to shake uncontrollably. I couldn’t go home. If I went back, they’d just push me into the water again. Or find some other way to kill me. Seeing me tremble, the woman, Faye, thought I was cold. She wrapped the jacket tighter around me and asked in a gentle voice, “Anna, right? We found your student ID in your pocket. Can you tell me your parents’ phone number, sweetie?” I bit my lip, hard, and shook my head violently. Tears streamed down my face. “I… I don’t want to go home…” The director’s scowl deepened. “Oh, great. So now you’re our problem? You think we can just feed you? Let me tell you, this production is running on fumes. We can’t afford any freeloaders!” The silver-haired man put down his phone, his voice a lazy drawl. “Come on, Mark. Don’t take it out on a kid.” He walked over and knelt in front of me, bringing himself to my eye level. “Hey, little one. Did you have a fight with your folks? Running away won’t solve anything. How about I take you home?” I shrank back, sobbing, and buried my face in Faye’s side. “I didn’t run away… I just… I fell in by accident…” “My parents… they don’t know I’m here…” I couldn’t tell them the truth. They were strangers. Why would they believe that my own parents had tried to murder me? If they sent me back, it was a death sentence. I had to lie. 3 The director, Mark, looked at me skeptically. “You fell in by yourself? Then where are your parents?” I clutched the hem of the jacket, my head bowed. “They… they work a lot. I’m usually home by myself.” “So what were you doing at a remote reservoir like this?” “I… I heard it was beautiful, so I wanted to see it…” My lies were full of holes. A teenage girl, alone, at a deserted reservoir in the middle of the night? It made no sense. The silver-haired man, Evan, just smiled faintly and said nothing. From the driver’s seat, the burly man, Dex, glanced back at me, his voice a low rumble. “Director, maybe we should just call the police. Let them find her family.” The police! They would definitely contact my parents! A jolt of terror shot through me. I grabbed Faye’s arm, my voice a desperate plea. “No! Please, don’t call the police! I’m begging you!” My reaction was so extreme that it startled the three men. They all stared at me. Faye rubbed my back soothingly. “Okay, okay, we won’t call the police. Calm down.” She looked up at the director. “Mark, look how terrified she is… Maybe we could just let her stay here for tonight? We can figure it out in the morning.” Mark’s brow was so furrowed it could have crushed a fly. “This is a film set, not an orphanage!” But despite his words, he waved a dismissive hand and got out of the van. “Fine! One night! But she’s out of here tomorrow, you hear me?” The door slid shut, blocking out the cold wind. Faye found me a set of clean, dry clothes and poured me a bowl of hot porridge from a rice cooker. “Here, eat this. It’ll warm you up.” The millet porridge was fragrant and creamy. I held the warm bowl, and fresh tears welled up in my eyes. No one had made me hot porridge since my grandma passed away. My mother always said cooking was a waste of time that she could be using to build her career. Our meals were always prepared by a part-time cleaner who only knew how to make two dishes: stir-fried cabbage and boiled cabbage. Because my sister Karen needed to watch her figure, and my mother said cabbage was the best for that. And I had to eat what they ate. Faye saw me just drinking the porridge, not saying a word, and thought I didn’t like it. She rummaged in her bag and pulled out a packet of teddy bear cookies. “Not to your liking? How about some cookies?” I quickly shook my head and finished every last drop of the porridge, even licking the bowl clean. “It was delicious! Thank you, pretty lady!” Faye smiled and stroked my hair. “Silly girl.” That night, I slept on the long bench in the van. It was cramped, but I felt safer than I had in years. But that sense of security was shattered the next morning. I was woken by a commotion outside. I opened my eyes to see my parents and my sister, Karen, standing right outside the van. My mother was clutching the director’s arm, her face a mask of frantic worry, her voice choked with sobs. “Director, thank you so much for saving our Anna! We’ve been looking for her all night!” My father stood beside her, his eyes red-rimmed, thanking them profusely. Karen, seeing that I was awake, rushed to the van door. “Anna! How could you be so selfish?” she cried out for all to hear. “Just because you don’t want me to go abroad, you’d resort to threatening our parents by jumping in the water? Do you have any idea how worried we were?” 4 My sister’s words were like a thunderclap, exploding among the film crew. Everyone turned to look at me with strange, judging eyes. So, I was the evil sister, so jealous of my sibling that I’d fake a suicide attempt to manipulate my parents. Director Mark’s face instantly darkened. Even Faye’s brow furrowed, a flicker of disappointment in her eyes. I felt a chill spread through me, rendering me speechless. My mother climbed into the van and threw her arms around me. But her hand, hidden from view, pinched the flesh of my lower back, hard. “Anna, you scared me to death! Let’s go home. Whatever it is, we can talk about it at home. Don’t bother these nice people.” The sharp pain made me gasp, and tears sprang to my eyes. To any outsider, it looked like a touching mother-daughter reunion. Karen followed her in, linking her arm through mine in a show of affection, but her nails dug into my skin. She leaned in, whispering so only I could hear. “You got lucky, Anna. But don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of ways to deal with you at home.” “You’d better behave. Because next time, it won’t be as simple as a little push into a reservoir.” I froze, paralyzed with fear. My legs wouldn’t move. My father came over, a “kindly” smile on his face. “I’m so sorry about all this,” he said to the director. “She’s just a child, so thoughtless. We’ll take her home now.” He reached out to grab my arm. I flinched back with a terrified scream. “No! I’m not going with you!” My mother’s face hardened, her voice laced with a threat. “Anna! Stop making a scene! Do you want me to hit you in front of all these people?” My father lost his patience. He grabbed me roughly and started to drag me out of the van. “Let’s go! We’ll see how we deal with a thankless brat like you at home!” The crew just watched, no one stepping in to help. To them, this was just a family squabble, parents disciplining a disobedient child. Despair washed over me. I was going to die. Just as my feet hit the ground, just as I was about to be shoved into my family’s car, a cool, calm voice cut through the air. “Wait.” It was the silver-haired man, Evan. He was leaning against the van door, casually dangling something from his fingers, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at my father. “Sir, before you go, perhaps you could explain this?” My father followed his gaze, and the color drained from his face.

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I was on my way to confess my feelings to my dream guy when I got mugged. The mugger tore up the ninety-plus love letters I’d written for him. So, I broke three of the mugger’s ribs. The next day, we both ended up on the local news. My dream guy, Henry, sent me a text: “Innocent little wallflower, huh? Savage.” 1 I’d been chasing Henry for four months, and for three and a half of them, I’d been playing the part of a delicate, innocent wallflower. The first fifteen days were my trial-and-error phase. I engineered a series of “coincidental” encounters with him, trying out a different persona each time. I went from the cool, aloof ice queen to the adorable, bubbly girl-next-door; from a sun-kissed, athletic type to a calculating, dark-academia genius. I was on the verge of developing a personality disorder. But he treated me like I was thin air. Then, by a stroke of luck, my roommate stayed up all night binging an old-school billionaire romance series. She swore to me that cold, ruthless men like Henry all had a secret weakness for clumsy, fragile girls who were as kind and pure as angels. So, on day sixteen, I dressed myself in the plainest, most unassuming clothes I owned and “accidentally” stumbled right into him. He finally deigned to lift his head, his gaze sweeping over me with disinterest. Then he spoke the first words he’d ever said to me in two weeks— “Get off.” The billionaire romance novels didn’t lie. I was so moved I could have cried. And so, I kept up the innocent wallflower act for the next three and a half months. Yesterday, my life as his number one admirer took a dramatic turn. After steeling my nerves, I asked Henry out to a movie for the fiftieth time—and he actually said yes. He agreed to see a movie with me! That was basically a marriage proposal, right? In my head, I’d already picked out names for our second kid. My roommates rallied around me, treating the date like a top-secret military operation. The first spent three hours crafting a flawless, barely-there, “no-makeup” makeup look. The second styled me in an immaculate, all-white outfit, the epitome of wallflower chic. The third channeled her inner drill sergeant, rigorously coaching my every word and gesture. As for me, I pulled an all-nighter, pouring my heart into ninety handwritten love letters for him. Our mission: to conquer Henry’s heart and officially end my two decades of singledom. The next afternoon, with my roommates cheering me on, I floated out the door, my heart soaring. A beautiful, epic romance was just around the corner. On the way, I even stopped by an arcade to get a fistful of tokens. A date isn’t complete without winning a prize from a claw machine to really elevate the romance. And then— Not long after I left the arcade, I ran into a mugger. 2 The burly man held a knife to me, snatched my phone, and backed me into a dark alley, demanding I hand over all my money. A smart girl knows when to fold. I glanced at his grizzled face, then at the gleaming blade in his hand. Without a second’s hesitation, I tremblingly scooped a handful of arcade tokens from my bag and offered them to him. The man flicked me hard on the forehead. “You trying to be funny with me?” Then— He expertly snatched the tokens from my hand and stuffed them into his pocket. “All of it. Don’t make me get it myself,” he growled, his face a mask of menace. I shakily offered him another handful of tokens. The mugger stared at me. He took the tokens, then flicked my forehead again, harder this time. The force of it nearly brought tears to my eyes. “Damn, you’re broke! I only targeted you ’cause I saw you leaving the arcade with your bag stuffed full.” He started rummaging through my bag himself, a hint of regret in his voice. You didn’t look very closely, I thought, rolling my eyes. My bag was already bulging when I went in, thanks to the ninety love letters. The mugger pulled out three more handfuls of tokens. Furious, he flicked my forehead again, this time with the full force of his frustration behind it. Tears finally streamed down my face. “That’s all the money I have,” I sobbed. He refused to give up. He felt a side pocket and pulled out a small, folded card. On it was written— “Your eyes, like stars, shining so bright, one look and I fell into their light. Don’t you worry, it feels so right, maybe this was destiny’s might, I can’t look away from you tonight.” “What the hell is this?” I could see genuine, bizarre confusion in his beady little eyes. “It’s… a love letter I wrote,” I mumbled, my face burning. He pulled out another one— “Like a chemical reaction, a fantasy forgiven by isolation. It must be your gentle gaze, setting my world ablaze, warming my heart’s maze, healing my broken days.” “I read this and I feel like I’m about to start singing,” the mugger scoffed. “Broke-ass kid, wasting your time on useless crap.” He raised his hand and, with a flick of his wrist, sent all ninety of my love letters fluttering into the grimy air. That was too much! That was my entire night’s work. A surge of rage washed over me. While he was busy pocketing the last of the tokens, I bent down, snatched a loose brick from the ground, and brought it down hard on his head. Caught completely off guard, the man crumpled to the ground. “You damn—you’re asking for it,” he grunted, stubbornly trying to push himself back up. I took a running start and kicked him squarely in the chest, sending him sprawling back down. His knife clattered away into the darkness. “Give me back my phone,” I demanded, plopping myself down on his chest to keep him from escaping. I heard a sickening crack from his ribs. Suddenly, he went completely still. He wasn’t even struggling anymore. Oh god, did I kill him? A wave of panic hit me. I scrambled off him and shook his arm. “Hey, mister? Are you okay?” “Just… call the cops,” he wheezed, his voice barely a whisper. “And an ambulance.” I fished my phone out of his token-filled pocket and shakily dialed 911. “Hello? I’m in the alley about two blocks down from the Main Street Arcade. I’ve just been mugged,” I said, my voice thick with fake tears. I was genuinely worried he wouldn’t make it until the police arrived. “So, is this your first time mugging someone?” I asked, squatting beside him after hanging up. I figured a little conversation might distract him from the pain. He let out a pained groan and turned his head away from me. “Why didn’t you just take my whole bag?” I scooted around to face him, unable to hold back my burning question. His breathing was loud and ragged, each breath sounding like it could be his last. 3 When the police arrived, I was sitting next to the mugger, checking to see if he was still breathing. “You’re the one who called it in?” An officer stepped out of the car, gun drawn, and stared at me. The rest of his squad fanned out behind him, their expressions a mixture of confusion and caution. I glanced at the half-dead man on the ground, then at the officer’s weapon. “I might have accidentally subdued him,” I said meekly. And so— The mugger was loaded into an ambulance, and I was taken to the police station. After I gave my statement, the officer handed me back my two pockets full of tokens and the scattered pile of love letters. The sky was completely dark by the time I walked out. “You’re late.” The message popped up on my phone the second I turned it on. A bolt of lightning shot through me. I had completely forgotten about my movie date with Henry. I frantically dialed his number. He picked up after a few rings. “What happened?” His voice, even through the phone, was as smooth and magnetic as ever. “I got mugged on my way over. I’m still at the police station. I was so scared,” I whimpered, the wallflower persona kicking in automatically. The officer who took my statement was packing up his notebook. He shot me a strange, unreadable look. “Your address. I’ll come get you.” Henry, my kind-hearted hero, didn’t hesitate. I gave him the address of the station. He just said, “Okay,” and told me to wait. “I’ll just wait here for a bit. Someone’s coming to pick me up,” I told the officer, flashing what I hoped was an innocent, grateful smile. He nodded in understanding, but the weird expression never left his face. 4 I didn’t notice Henry when he arrived because I was deep in the trenches of a heated League of Legends match, furiously typing insults at my teammates in the chat. “Mia.” It was only after the match ended that he finally spoke my name. I looked up mechanically, quickly locking my phone screen. “Henry, you don’t have perfect vision, do you?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “No,” he said, pausing for a fraction of a second. He nodded slowly. “Were you just looking at something I wasn’t supposed to see?” “Hahahaha, that’s great!” I let out a huge sigh of relief. “My phone screen cracked when I dropped it, so it’s just showing a bunch of asterisks when I type. I didn’t want you to think less of me,” I said, shoving my phone in my pocket. It was a flawless excuse. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you hurt?” he asked, changing the subject. I stared at his lips, how they moved when he spoke. God, they were perfect. I could feel the drool pooling in my mouth. I shook my head, my persona as solid as a rock. “I’m okay. He took all my money and he hit me, but I’m really okay.” “He hit you?” Henry’s brow furrowed, his expression darkening. “Yeah, three times,” I nodded eagerly. He held out his long, elegant hand. “Let’s get you up. I’m taking you to the hospital to get checked out.” This was my chance to create a moment. I immediately took his hand and let him pull me to my feet. “Excuse me, do you know which hospital they took the suspect to?” Once I was standing, I was reluctant to let go of his hand. To his credit, probably out of some sense of humanitarian duty, Henry didn’t pull away. But he turned to ask the officer about the mugger. “He’s at St. Jude’s,” I blurted out, my heart pounding. “Oh, my head feels a little dizzy from where he hit me. Can we just go home? I really need to lie down,” I said, tugging on his sleeve and leaning weakly against him. His whole body went rigid, but he didn’t push me away. And thankfully, he dropped the subject. “I’m taking you to a doctor. We need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” he said after a slight cough. The mugger was probably lying in a bed at that very hospital. Going there would blow my cover completely. I waved my hands frantically. “No, no, it’s fine!” “We should get it checked out,” he insisted, his hand steady on my arm. “Really, it’s okay! It’s so late, I just want to go home and sleep!” I was getting desperate, and my voice, without its usual delicate filter, came out loud and clear. Henry froze. He gave me a complicated look. “Well, you certainly sound energetic. I guess you’re probably fine.” I stared back at him. Now it was my turn to look complicated. 5 That should have been the end of it. But then, they pulled the security footage from the alley. It all started when the local police department was featured on a reality show, something like a local version of Cops. One of the officers recounted the most memorable calls from the past week. The show’s producers, bless their soulless hearts, tracked down the footage of my case, edited it into a segment, and the clip immediately went viral. The security footage clearly showed me grabbing a brick and knocking the 250-pound mugger to the ground. When he tried to get up, I flew at him with a kick that sent him sprawling, then pinned him to the pavement with my butt until he couldn’t move. The video ended with him, lying on the ground, begging me to call the police. I hadn’t seen the clip myself, but Henry was kind enough to share it with me. The title of the video was emblazoned across the top: “Gen Z Girl Annihilates Mugger, Who Begs Her to Call the Cops to Save His Life.” “Didn’t realize you were such a hero,” he texted. I could practically hear his deadpan voice through the screen. “You didn’t see the beginning!” I typed back frantically. “He insulted the love letters I wrote for you! He insulted my love for you!” I was trying to salvage the situation. Henry’s response: “Savage.” I stared at the word, unsure how to reply. I gave up, flopped onto my bed, and opened the video’s comment section. “LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOO” “That dude’s been mugging people for years and he finally met his final boss.” “Three simple moves to make a criminal rethink his life choices!” For a crime story, the comment section was an unusually peaceful, harmonious place. 6 That night, the internet sleuths found my TikTok account. I gained 3,000 followers overnight. My TikTok is usually just a random collection of food, fun, and the occasional nerdy dance video. The comments were normally from a handful of friends and family. Now, it was a pilgrimage site. Underneath my dance videos, the comments were ruthless: “Where can I find a champion like this?” “Am I blind, or is she just wringing the air dry?” “I can feel the raw power and tenacity.” And, of course, an endless, soul-crushing stream of “LMAO.” My roommate tried to console me. “You may have lost love, but you’re on the path to fortune. When you’re forty, you can hire ten guys who look just like Henry.” “How vulgar! I’m not that shallow. I love Henry for his beautiful soul!” I huffed, defending my honor. Though, I had to admit, the thought of twenty Henrys bowing to my every whim was… appealing. Just thinking about it filled me with a new sense of purpose. My fingers flew across the keyboard. “What are you doing?” my roommate asked, pointing at the academic journal database open on my laptop. “You have a paper due soon?” I shook my head. “I’m writing a new love letter for Henry. The last ninety didn’t truly capture my feelings.” My roommate stared at me, dumbfounded. “Hmph. I’m not like you people,” I said with a smirk. “I’m going to have it all: love and money. I’ll have the young and beautiful Henry by my side twenty years ahead of schedule.” At two in the morning, I sent Henry my meticulously crafted, 3,000-word masterpiece of a love letter. Five minutes later, he replied with a plagiarism report showing an 88% match. I was speechless. I typed back: Your attention to detail reminds me of one of my mom’s relatives. The three dots indicating he was typing appeared and disappeared for two full minutes. Finally, a single message came through: ? My mom’s future son-in-law, I sent, feeling giddy. Henry: lol He didn’t deny it! He even said “lol”! He really, really wanted to be my mom’s son-in-law. 7 “Henry!” The next day at lunch, I “coincidentally” ran into him in the cafeteria, as usual. “What a coincidence! We must be destined to meet,” I chirped, setting my tray down across from him and sliding into the seat beside him. He shot me a cool glance and didn’t reply. Thanks to my frequent “coincidences,” Henry’s roommates had learned to make themselves scarce the moment I appeared. “Let’s go to the movies tonight. I promise nothing will go wrong this time. I’ll stick to the main roads,” I said, poking his elbow. He put down his fork, a thoughtful look on his face. “I won’t even go near an arcade! I won’t carry a single cent! No one will have a reason to rob me!” I held up three fingers, swearing an oath. Henry gently pushed my hand down and pulled out his phone. He wasn’t smiling, but I could see a flicker of amusement in his eyes. My internal alarms blared. Was he about to text some other girl right in front of me? A second later, a notification popped up on my phone. A message from Henry. He had forwarded me a video. Suspicious, I pressed play. And then— My own voice, loud and unfiltered, boomed from the speakers. “Alright everyone, watch this! I’ll make you some juice!” On the screen, my face was contorted in a ferocious grimace as I crushed an entire apple in my bare hand in under five seconds. Silence. A profound, deafening silence filled the space between us. I forgot how to move. … It was a video my aunt took last Thanksgiving at a family dinner. My cousin had just shown off by opening a beer bottle with his teeth, and not to be outdone, I’d performed my signature party trick: hand-juicing an apple. At the time, everyone thought it was hilarious, and they’d egged me on to post it to TikTok. Well, it was still hilarious. Just not for me. I wanted to cry. “Henry, what if I told you that was my alter ego? Would you believe me?” I stammered, inventing a sci-fi explanation on the spot. “She’s a super-strong warrior. The real me is… very delicate.” A small laugh escaped his lips. “Pfft.” “It’s true! I’ve been meaning to tell you,” I insisted, pouting. His voice was laced with amusement now, as if I’d just told the funniest joke in the world. “So why decide to tell me today?” I kept the lie going. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. It’s better you know now than finding out during the pre-nuptial check-up.” Henry went silent. I might have been imagining it, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

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At nineteen, my life was a relentless cycle of work to scrape together tuition. Who knew a single accident would plunge me into a world I was never meant to enter? In the hushed VIP lounge, a man radiated effortless privilege—devastatingly handsome, like a marble-carved god. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a black credit card spinning toward me. It was his girlfriend’s rejected card, landing on my uniform like a calculated insult. For a split second, my eyes lit up. Then I froze. Before me, eerie glowing captions shimmered in the air: [LOL, does this waitress think the male lead is into her?] [This is just a lovers’ spat. She’s collateral damage.] [Our girl Mia is upset he only throws money at problems.] [Don’t worry—he’ll make it up to her with a Winston Blue diamond later~] [Why is this rando still standing there? Grab the card and go!] [Stay in your lane, girl.] I lifted my gaze to the couple locked in their silent battle. Why wasn’t I leaving? Duh—he hadn’t given me the PIN. 1 Right now, that little piece of plastic lay at my feet, feeling as dangerous as a live wire. Eason Astor and Mia Stone were still locked in their standoff, the tension in the room so thick you could cut it with a knife. One was the golden boy, born with a silver spoon and the world at his feet. The other, the penniless, innocent girl he’d fallen for at first sight. It was a perfect romance novel setup. Finally, Eason’s patience snapped. His gaze, sharp with irritation, landed back on me. “Why are you still here?” The annoyance in his voice was raw. He couldn’t unleash it on the woman he loved, so a nobody like me became the perfect target. Before I could speak, Mia, the woman across from him, let out a bitter laugh. “See, Eason? Even the waitress finds your little ‘money-is-the-answer’ routine disgusting.” Her words were a double-edged sword, meant to mock him and humiliate me in one fell swoop. Eason’s face darkened instantly. [OMG he’s furious! He loves her so much! The possessiveness is off the charts!] [So sweet! Our Mia is the only one who dares to talk to him like that!] [Warning: high-stakes drama ahead! The female lead is about to storm out in a jealous fit, the male lead will chase her, and things are about to get steamy!] Amidst the chorus of [So sweet!] from the floating text, I bent down. Not to pick up the card. Instead, I offered Eason, his face a thunderous mask, a perfect ninety-degree bow. “Thank you,” I said. I straightened up, meeting his stunned gaze. My voice was more sincere than it had ever been in my life. “Mr. Astor, thank you for your generous grant. I promise every cent of this money will go toward my education.” The entire room fell into a dead silence. The captions flickered and froze for a second. Ignoring his bewildered expression, I pulled my student ID and driver’s license from the pocket of my uniform apron and presented them with both hands. “I’m a sophomore in the finance department at Ashton University. My name is Chloe. These are my credentials.” “A million dollars is no small sum. I will write you a formal IOU. And if you need, I am available at any time to cooperate with you or your family’s foundation for any ‘targeted philanthropy’ interviews you might require for PR purposes.” My words were crisp and clear, delivered like a corporate report. Eason was utterly dumbfounded. He shot a subconscious glance at Mia and saw exactly what he expected: her face was drained of color, her eyes wide with disbelief. He cleared his throat, a muscle ticking in his jaw, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards into a ghost of a smile. “That won’t be necessary. It’s nothing.” Despite his words, he pulled out his phone and, right in front of Mia, opened a new contact screen. “But your mention of an interview gives me an idea. Add my number. You never know when the company might need some good press you could help with.” Mia’s expression shifted from pale white to a furious red, finally settling on a shade of deep, mortified shame. She bit her lip so hard it had to hurt, watching as Eason and I exchanged numbers. Her glare was so intense it felt like she was trying to carve a piece out of me with her eyes. “You’re unbelievable, Eason,” she spat. She snatched her purse off the table and, with that parting shot, stormed out of the room. 2 The door slammed shut with a resounding bang. Eason’s expression was grim. He took a half-step, instinct telling him to go after her. But I moved first, stepping sideways to block his path. He frowned down at me, the irritation practically boiling in his eyes. “What do you want now?” I ignored his tone, looking at him calmly and asking a question that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Mr. Astor, that card… it was meant for her, wasn’t it?” I didn’t wait for an answer. “I’m accepting it because my tuition for next semester is due, I have younger siblings to support back home, and I’m at the end of my rope.” “A million dollars might be a small number to you, but to me, it’s a lifeline.” My voice was quiet, but every word was crystal clear. “But for a girl who isn’t struggling for money, it’s just humiliating.” I met his gaze, which was now flickering with shock. “She’ll think you’re no different from all those other shallow men who think money can solve everything.” Eason fell completely silent. The storm in his eyes slowly subsided, replaced by a flicker of confusion. After a long moment, he swallowed hard and, almost against his will, asked, “So what do you suggest I do?” I bent down, picked up the thin piece of plastic from the floor, and held it out to him. “If you want her to see you’re different, then stop doing things that any rich guy could do.” Eason looked down at the card in my hand, his expression thoughtful. When I left the lounge that night, Eason had insisted I take the card. He even gave me the PIN. Rich people, I thought wryly, always have a trick up their sleeve. If I hadn’t pushed my luck and stayed those few extra minutes, if I hadn’t spelled it all out for him, this card would have been nothing more than a useless piece of plastic in my hand. Back in the staff locker room, I changed out of my cheap uniform. As I pulled my textbooks from my locker, a worn-out notebook fell to the floor. I picked it up and opened it. The pages were crammed with notes, all about Eason Astor: how often he came to the club, how much he spent, what he drank. And the one name he would mutter over and over again when he’d had too much. Mia. But he was the prey I had been stalking for so long. A small smile touched my lips. I ripped those pages from the notebook, tore them into tiny pieces, and tossed them into the trash. From that day on, Eason came to the club more often, always requesting me as his server. But every single time, he came up empty. I was never there. 3 I turned slowly, squinting into the glare. A tall, slender figure stood silhouetted against the bright afternoon sun. The light was blinding, but I didn’t even blink. “Then perhaps you’d like to demonstrate, Mr. Astor?” I said calmly, dusting the chalk from my hands. He seemed taken aback by my reaction. He paused, then cleared his throat and pronounced the word in a flawless, crisp British accent. “Apple.” The pronunciation was perfect, dripping with the kind of casual superiority that comes from a lifetime of privilege. For a family like his, a bilingual upbringing was standard. The authentic accent others might spend years trying to master was just his everyday normal. A chorus of oohs and aahs rose from the children around me. They all agreed he said it much better than I did. A smirk played on his lips, clearly pleased with the effect. He finally turned his full attention back to me. “What are you doing here?” he asked, then seemed to remember. “Oh, right. Your manager at the club told me. Said this is where you always are when you’re not working.” I didn’t say anything. I just bent down and began quietly gathering the flashcards and worn-out books from the dusty ground. Only after the last card was tucked away in my canvas tote did I look up and meet his eyes directly. “Did the manager only tell you I come here? Or did he also mention I’m an orphan, and that when I’m not working, this is the only place I have to go?” The smugness on Eason’s face vanished, replaced by a flash of awkwardness he couldn’t quite hide. But I didn’t give him time to dwell on it. I cut straight to the chase. “So, Mr. Astor. Tell me about you and your girlfriend. How are things?” [Dude, why are you telling all this to a random side character?] [She’s appeared twice now. Something’s not right. I bet she’s the secret second female lead.] [Shut up, you guys. I live for this kind of drama. Go on!] My directness seemed to have pierced his pretense. He dropped the act. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, trying to justify his presence. “You took my money. The least you could do is offer a little gratitude and help me with a problem, right?” He leaned against the old oak tree in the center of the yard, his voice laced with defeat. “She hasn’t contacted me at all. I heard… I heard she’s been spending a lot of time with the student council president.” I just let out a soft laugh. “Mr. Astor, have you ever stopped to wonder why you always hear about it the second Mia gets close to another man?” Eason froze. The confusion in his eyes was instantly replaced by a spark of understanding. He wasn’t stupid, just blinded by his own emotions. The storm was back in his deep-set eyes. He stared at me as if I were his last hope. “So… what do I do?” I slung the tote bag over my shoulder and stepped into the sunlight, my words clear and deliberate. “It’s simple.” “Make her realize that jealousy games won’t work on you anymore.” I watched the shock register in his eyes before delivering the final blow. “Only sincerity will.” 4 Eason was silent for a long time. So long that the kids from the yard ran back over, tugging at my shirt and asking when I’d be back again. I smiled and ruffled their hair, promising I’d return next week. It wasn’t until the children had scattered that Eason finally spoke, his voice a little hoarse. “Ashton University is having its anniversary ball this Saturday. You… will you be my date?” He seemed to have summoned a great deal of courage to ask; the tips of his ears were pink. I laughed coldly to myself but put on a hesitant expression. “I’m just a waitress who works at a club. I’d probably just embarrass you at an event like that.” “You won’t,” he cut in. “It’s settled.” He paused, then, as if trying to regain control of the situation, he gave me a searching look. “Wait, you’re an Ashton student too?” “Yes. Finance department, freshman year,” I answered smoothly. The confusion in his eyes deepened. “I thought Ashton’s full-ride scholarships covered all tuition and basic living expenses. How are you still…” He trailed off, but I knew what he was asking. I lowered my head, and at that exact moment, a breeze rustled past, lifting the cuff of my faded, worn-out shirt. For a split second, an ugly, jagged scar on my wrist was exposed. Eason’s pupils contracted sharply. I pulled my sleeve down as if nothing had happened, avoiding his question. “I’ll see you on Saturday, Mr. Astor,” I said softly. … Saturday night, the Ashton University auditorium was ablaze with lights. When I walked in on Eason’s arm, nearly every head in the room turned. My dress was the simplest white slip gown imaginable. It made me look frail, almost ethereal, but clean. [Oh damn, they’re wearing the same color. This is gonna be good.] [Is Chloe doing this on purpose? Such a copycat.] [You guys know nothing. I saw her backstage. She borrowed that dress from the event staff. The tag is still on it.] Almost as soon as the captions appeared, Mia came striding toward us, her face a mask of fury. She was also in a white dress—a designer piece from the latest haute couture collection that made her look like a proud, untouchable princess. And I, next to her, looked like a cheap imitation. It was ironic, really. Before she met Eason, she was just like me, a scholarship student juggling jobs to make ends meet. Now look at her, draped in luxury, with a man like Eason wrapped around her finger. Maybe we weren’t so different after all. I let go of Eason’s arm and gave her a polite nod. “Hello, Mia.” Her response was the sharp crack of a slap across my face. A searing pain exploded on my left cheek before I even had time to process what had happened. Mia’s shrill voice cut through the ballroom buzz. “Chloe, are you addicted to copying me? Does it give you some kind of sick thrill to steal things that belong to other people?” Her words were a clear double entendre. The murmurs of the crowd instantly swelled around me, drowning me in their judgment. The stares—scorn, amusement, pity—pricked at me like a thousand tiny needles. I cupped my stinging cheek, but I met her gaze calmly. “You’ve misunderstood. I just borrowed a white dress from the event staff for the ball.” I glanced around the room. “If wearing white is considered copying you, if it’s not allowed, then does that mean every other student here in a white dress deserves to be slapped? Does that mean none of them have the right to be here tonight?” Mia’s face turned a blotchy, furious red. She was trembling with rage, raising her hand to strike me again. But this time, a hand shot out and caught her wrist mid-air. It was Eason. Mia stared at him in disbelief, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Eason, why…?” she choked out. “Why are you always defending her?” Eason’s face was tight with anger. I was his date, and this public spectacle was humiliating for him. “Stop making a scene! It’s just a dress. Who cares who wears what? Does everyone have to be different from you?” “Anyone else can,” Mia shrieked, “but not her!” 计费点 5 Mia glared at me with pure hatred, then violently wrenched her arm from Eason’s grasp and ran out of the auditorium, sobbing. Once again, I was the center of everyone’s attention. I gave the man frozen beside me a gentle nudge. “Aren’t you going after her?” I offered a helpless smile. “Now’s the perfect time to clear things up.” I smoothed down my dress. “I should head back to my dorm.” But Eason didn’t move. He looked at my swollen cheek, his voice hesitant. “Your face…” I shrugged, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel, and joked in a voice only he could hear, “It’s fine. The million dollars you gave me should cover a few more slaps, I think.” Then, fighting back the sting in my eyes, I turned to leave. I hadn’t taken more than a few steps before a firm, warm hand closed around my wrist. I looked up, feigning surprise, and met his dark, unreadable eyes. They were churning with a storm of emotions I couldn’t decipher—guilt, regret, and something that looked suspiciously like… concern. “If I let you walk out of here alone like this, that would be the real injustice,” Eason said, his voice low and serious. Before I could respond, the world tilted. In front of everyone, he swept me off my feet and into his arms. A collective gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of shocked whispers. Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around his neck and buried my face in the warmth of his chest. The familiar, crisp scent of pine and expensive cologne enveloped me, shielding me from the prying eyes. [Has he lost his mind? He’s not chasing Mia, he’s carrying this manipulative girl?] [I’m gonna be sick. Chloe is a master manipulator. A slap in exchange for a princess-carry? Worth it.] [Are they actually a thing? If so, poor Mia…] The captions continued to rage on Mia’s behalf. But hidden against his chest, I allowed myself a small, triumphant smile. Eason carried me through half the campus to the parking garage and gently placed me in the passenger seat of his Maybach. The car finally came to a stop in the underground garage of a high-end downtown apartment building. His home. Inside, Eason retrieved an ice pack from the freezer, wrapped it in a soft towel, and carefully pressed it against my swollen cheek. The cold made me hiss softly in spite of myself. His movements instantly became even gentler. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low. “I handled that badly. You didn’t deserve that.” I shook my head, my eyes downcast, my voice as soft as a feather. “It’s not your fault. Mia… she just cares about you so much. It’s only natural she’d get jealous seeing me with you.” A wronged woman, showing magnanimous understanding at the perfect moment. As expected, Eason fell silent. His brow was furrowed, his eyes clouded with a deep-seated frustration. After a long moment, he said quietly, almost to himself, “She… she didn’t use to be like this.”

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