6. A tall man with sharp, predatory eyes stormed in, flanked by two thuggish-looking cronies. I shrank back into the room, my heart pounding. “Get out. This spot is ours now!” the tall man snarled. I recognized him. He was the most aggressive one at the bakery yesterday, the one who had physically ripped bread out of other players’ hands. I knew I couldn’t fight him. I decided to give up my sanctuary. But as I reached the door, he whipped out a knife and pressed the cold blade against my throat. “Hand over all your money and food. Now. Or I’ll gut you.” The crazed, cruel look in their eyes told me they weren’t bluffing. My mind raced. Fight back? I wouldn’t stand a chance. Give them my money? That was the same as being eliminated, saddled with a massive debt. What could I do? I swallowed hard. “Hey, man, let’s just talk about this. Robbery will get you eliminated by the system.” “Shut up! I’m not asking again.” The blade pressed deeper. I stopped resisting. I transferred my entire $10 balance to him. Staying alive was the only way to win the prize. The tall man snatched the money and shoved me out of the room. As they slammed the door shut, I heard them gloating. “Mugging players works like a charm. Good thing he told us it wouldn’t get us kicked out. We’ll never have to worry about money again.” He? Who were they talking about? Robbing an NPC was forbidden, but robbing, or even killing, another player was apparently fair game. Who knew the rules so well? It was only day two, and I had lost everything. No money, no food. Was this the end? A moment later, another anonymous broadcast echoed: [Attention! Saltine crackers are now on sale at the 24-hour convenience store in Departures, Zone B!] The equipment room door opened. The tall man and his lackeys emerged. I quickly ducked into the shadows and followed them toward the store. They spent every cent of their stolen money on crackers. The moment the transaction completed, the system’s voice boomed: [Players 5, 49, and 61 have been eliminated for overspending. Debt: $200,000.] The tall man howled in disbelief. “But this was money I stole! How is that overspending—” Before he could finish, he vanished in a flash of light. His two cronies disappeared a second later. Dozens of bags of crackers and several loaves of bread clattered to the floor. I sprinted forward, shucked off my jacket, and used it to scoop up every last crumb. My hunch was right. The system said overspending led to elimination, but with only a $10 starting fund, how could anyone overspend? There was only one possibility: using another player’s stolen money, if it took your total spending over the initial $10 limit, counted as overspending. But the tall man hadn’t been eliminated for stealing bread from other players. That meant plundering food was allowed. I could see the days ahead. Players who figured out the rules would turn on each other, fighting brutally for scraps. I had to hide this food. With this stash, I could definitely last until the end. I found five separate, secure hiding spots and distributed my supplies. One location per day. That was the plan for the next five days. After all that, my Stamina was critically low, flashing a warning. I had no choice but to go back to a terminal chair and force myself to sleep sitting up. 7. Day three. A heart-wrenching coughing fit ripped through the quiet morning, snapping everyone’s attention to a young woman, Player 47. She was curled up on a cold metal bench, her body shaking violently, her face flushed a deep, alarming red. Her boyfriend, another player, looked at her with disgust. “What’s wrong with you? You have a fever? Don’t tell me you’re not gonna make it to day seven!” The woman’s voice was a weak, hoarse whisper. “I’m just… so cold. It hurts. Alex, can you just hold me?” “No way. What if you get me sick?” he shot back, stepping away. Without warning, a shrill alarm blared throughout the terminal. The heavy, rhythmic tread of boots echoed from a nearby corridor. A team in full white hazmat suits appeared and efficiently lifted the sick woman onto a stretcher. “Let me go! I don’t want to be eliminated!” she screamed in terror, reaching for her boyfriend. “Alex, help me! Help me!” But Alex didn’t even look back. He just turned and ran. The hazmat team ignored her cries, wheeling the stretcher away as the other players watched in horror. Seconds later, the broadcast: [Player 47, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed from the game area for quarantine. Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] [Player 87, deemed a severe public health risk, has been removed… Eliminated! Debt: $200,000!] Players exchanged wary, suspicious glances. “Player 87 was the one eating out of the trash yesterday. He’s been sick all morning.” “So you can’t get a cold, and you can’t get food poisoning.” Who would be next? Every cough, every throat clear, sent a fresh jolt of fear through the terminal. Another rule learned: do not get sick. I survived the day on my hidden bread and crackers. The airport was even colder now, a true icebox. I found a Mylar emergency blanket in the trash, the kind hikers use. It was far better at retaining heat than my flimsy airline blanket. Day four. The number of eliminated players was climbing steadily. When I woke, I set out to retrieve my daily ration. Avoiding the main crowds, I made my way to my first hiding spot: a narrow gap behind a large planter in a deserted restroom area. I knelt and reached into the familiar crevice. Empty. There was nothing there. My heart plummeted. I searched again, frantically, but found nothing, not even a crumb. Panicked, I ran to the next location. Nothing. And the next. Nothing. All four of my remaining stashes had been cleaned out. My entire life-saving supply of crackers and bread, gone overnight. My guaranteed win had just been completely upended. To find all my spots so precisely and empty them so quietly… this wasn’t the work of an ordinary player. Who was it? Who had been watching me? My morale hit rock bottom. I tried the free sample circuit again, but with more players desperate, the stores had gotten wise. All samples were gone. Even the Starbucks condiment bar was bare. The trash cans had become battlegrounds. Players were still risking food poisoning to find something, anything. By the time I checked, there wasn’t even a scrap left. By 10 PM, all my meters were flashing red alerts. Desperate, I walked toward the luxury retail wing of the airport. Another player whispered as I passed, “Looks like she’s done for. What’s she gonna do in the designer stores?” 8. In a trash can near the luxury shops, I found what I was looking for: several discarded shopping bags and empty boxes from high-end brands. Passengers often ditched the packaging before their flights to avoid import taxes. I carefully placed the pristine boxes into the best-looking bag and headed down to the first-floor departure hall. During my earlier scouting, I’d noticed a 24/7 high-end restaurant there: Dragon’s Hearth. I was going to scam a free place to rest and some free food. Pushing through the heavy glass doors, I was hit by a wave of warm air and the rich aroma of simmering broth. A smiling hostess hurried over. “Welcome! A table for how many?” “Two,” I said, my voice raspy. I casually placed the conspicuous luxury bag on an adjacent chair. “A quiet spot, please. I’m waiting for someone.” The hostess’s eyes flickered to the bag, and her smile widened. “Of course, right this way!” Anyone who could afford that much luxury wasn’t here to scam a free meal. She led me to a semi-private booth with plush, cushioned seating. The moment I sat down, I pulled out my phone and dialed a nonexistent number. As the fake call “connected,” my voice, choked with emotion, echoed through the quiet restaurant. “I’m at Dragon’s Hearth. I bought a ticket to Paris for 3 AM. If you don’t show up, you will never see me again!” I slammed the phone down on the table, my eyes instantly welling with tears. The hostess quickly returned with a bowl of warm, sweet herbal soup and a small plate of fruit. “Ma’am, please calm down,” she said, her voice soothing. “Have some soup. Is your boyfriend giving you trouble?” My voice was thick with emotion. “Thank you. I just can’t eat, knowing he’s with his perfect ex right now.” “You have to eat, especially when you’re upset,” she said, placing the soup in front of me. “You need your strength for when he comes crawling back.” I nodded and took a small sip. The warm liquid soothed my parched throat. My stomach was screaming, but I had to hold back. The hostess returned with a complimentary bowl of steamed custard. Feigning heartbreak, I went to the condiment bar and quickly scooped three large spoonfuls of savory minced beef into my custard. Back at my seat, I forced myself to eat with elegant, small bites, all while keeping a wary eye on the staff. The hostess seemed to have radar. “Ma’am, since you’re feeling down, would you like to try our new tomato broth? It’s sweet and sour, very appetizing!” A vibrant red bowl of soup appeared before me. “Can I get you some snacks?” A plate of free french fries followed. “Any word from your boyfriend yet?” The hostess leaned in again, her eyes full of gossip and sympathy, seemingly more invested in my drama than I was. Alarm bells went off in my head. She was checking on me too often. I immediately switched gears. Tears filled my eyes again, my voice trembling with despair. “Is he really not coming? I never really planned to leave…” I buried my face in my hands, my shoulders shaking. “Oh, don’t cry, don’t cry!” The hostess panicked, rushing back with a giant, fluffy teddy bear. “Let him keep you company! You’re so beautiful, your boyfriend will definitely regret this!” Hugging the soft bear, the exhaustion was overwhelming. My Stamina was critical. I had to rest. I secretly set a vibrating alarm for 2 AM, then, looking completely emotionally drained, I curled up on the soft sofa and closed my eyes. As I drifted off, I prayed they wouldn’t kick me out. I don’t know how long I slept, but the hostess gently woke me. “Miss, isn’t your flight about to depart?” Right on cue, my phone began to vibrate violently. My alarm. In a flash, I grabbed the phone and, without looking, screamed into it with my pre-planned lines. “I waited for you for four hours! Are you still not coming? Is she really that important? I’m leaving! I’m really leaving this time! Can’t you just come and see me one last time?” I ended the call and buried my face in the teddy bear, making it look like I was sobbing. The manager, who had been approaching, stopped, shook his head, and walked away. The hostess kindly brought me a blanket. I slept on that plush sofa all night. The next morning, as I was about to leave, the hostess brought me a complimentary breakfast of soy milk, congee, and a tea-infused egg. “You go, girl!” she said with an encouraging smile. “You’ll find someone better! This is a new beginning for you!” Since I hadn’t ordered anything, I didn’t pay. I thanked her quietly and walked out the glass doors. My Stamina and Hunger meters were completely full. It was a shameless tactic, and one I could only use once. I had just played my trump card. 9. Day five. I ran into Cole and his group right outside the restaurant. His team had swelled to over twenty people. They were in the middle of distributing crackers. When I saw the packaging, my mind went blank with rage. Those were my crackers. I had torn a tiny corner off each bag as a marker. I stormed over. “Cole! You stole my crackers!” He just smiled and offered me one. “Don’t be mad. I told you, you should have joined us.” “Give them back.” “Take a look around,” he said, gesturing to his followers. “Do they look like they want to give them back?” Twenty pairs of greedy eyes stared back at me. I snatched the cracker he offered and took a step back. “Can I join you now?” “Too late, Ava,” he said with that same disarming smile. “This was never a solo game. The only way to survive is to team up and take resources from other players. You have no money and no food. You have nothing of value to us.” At that moment, a new system directive came through: [Welcome to Day 5. To increase the entertainment value, all public water fountains will now be shut off. Water from restrooms is contaminated and not safe for consumption.] The public channel exploded with rage. “Entertainment value? Screw you!” “No water? For three more days?! They’re trying to kill us!” Cole’s team started to get agitated, the fear of dehydration eclipsing their momentary joy over the food. But Cole remained calm, raising a hand to quiet them. “What’s the panic? It’s just water.” He shot a sideways glance at me. “The other players still have water. We just have to take it.” My stomach dropped. Before I could run, twenty pairs of bloodshot eyes locked onto me. The mob descended like hyenas smelling blood. “Let go! It’s mine!” I clutched my backpack, but I was hopelessly outnumbered. The strap was ripped from my shoulder, the zipper torn open. My two full water bottles were wrenched from my grasp. The few sugar packets I had left scattered on the floor and were instantly snatched up. I was shoved to the ground. Cole’s voice was ice-cold. “Be grateful we’re letting you live. Now get lost.” I scrambled to my feet and ran. Not from Cole, but for water. I had to get there before anyone else figured it out—the liquid disposal area. TSA regulations meant passengers couldn’t bring liquids over 100ml through security. At the checkpoint, they had to discard their water bottles, sodas, and juices in special large bins. I sprinted to the domestic departures security checkpoint. There they were: three massive, transparent disposal bins, each half as tall as me. They were overflowing with half-full and even unopened bottles of water, sports drinks, sodas, teas, and juices. Two TSA agent NPCs stood nearby. Simply rummaging through the bins was out of the question; it would trigger the security alarm. I couldn’t wait any longer. I pasted an expression of sheer panic on my face and rushed toward the checkpoint, heading straight for the bins. “Excuse me, coming through!” I yelled, my voice cracking, pushing past the people in line and successfully getting the agents’ attention. “Ma’am, you need to get in line!” a middle-aged agent said, blocking my path. “I’m so sorry, sir!” I said, speaking a mile a minute, my voice filled with genuine-sounding panic as I pointed at the bins. “I think my ring fell in there! It was my grandmother’s! Please, let me just look for it! It’ll only take a second, I promise!” Tears welled up in my eyes on command. The agent hesitated, then stepped aside. “Be quick about it! Don’t hold up the line!” “Thank you, sir! Thank you!” I practically dove for the bins. “So I don’t make a mess, I’ll just take these bags over here to sort through,” I said, hoisting the three giant plastic liners out of the bins and dragging them to a spot just out of the agents’ line of sight. Jackpot. This was more than enough water to last three days. I quickly emptied one bag and filled it with all the unopened bottles, then scurried away from the security area, my heart hammering against my ribs. I didn’t stop until I found a secluded accessible restroom and locked the door. No one could know I had this much water. I stood on the toilet, pushed up a ceiling tile, and stashed half my supply in the crawlspace. I hid the rest in several other nooks and crannies around the terminal before repeating the entire process at the international departures checkpoint. It wasn’t greed. I had a much bigger plan.

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Ever since my brother found out I wasn’t his real sister, he’s been ice-cold. The pain was a constant, sharp ache in my chest. I was packing my bags, ready to get the hell out, when I stumbled upon his journal. 【It’s over. She’s not my real sister. I can’t control myself anymore.】 【God, I want to taste my sweet little sister’s…】 【She crawled into my bed last night, her face flushed from the heat, whimpering my name like a prayer. It’s going to be the death of me.】 【She can’t even solve a simple calculus problem. The anger makes my heart ache. I just want to take a whip to her.】 【The shower is so damn small, and she still insists on squeezing in. Doesn’t she know I could pin her against the tiles until her eyes lose focus?】 【If she calls me ‘brother’ one more time, I’ll ship her off to the Arctic to pluck weeds.】 I snapped the journal shut. My feet carried me down to the basement, my movements silent and deliberate. My hands, trembling slightly, closed around a set of chains, a candle, and a leather whip. Brother, you get to punish me during the day. But at night… it’s my turn. … When I got home from class, Liam was doing laundry. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and black slacks, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing the strong, corded muscles of his forearms. “Brother, you’re home early,” I chirped, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind and resting my head against his back. His whole body went rigid. After a beat, he resumed his task, his voice a shard of ice. “Lily, let go.” Just then, my eyes landed on the pile of clothes he’d set aside on the floor—my lace bra and camisole. A bitter sting pricked my nose. Just a few days ago, before the DNA test results came back, he wasn’t like this. Was blood really all that mattered to him? When my biological parents had shown up, I’d refused to even meet them. They abandon me for eighteen years and then decide they want me back now that I’m an adult? What kind of joke was that? My adoptive parents—our parents—insisted on not getting a DNA test, saying I would always be their daughter. But Liam… my brother… he was the one who had to confirm it, to shatter that last shred of hope that we were connected by blood. And now, in just a few short days, we’d become so distant that he couldn’t even stand to wash our clothes together. “Hmph. Fine, I’ll let go,” I snapped, kicking his shin playfully, though there was real anger behind it. “I’m moving out tomorrow anyway! You can have this whole mansion to yourself. I don’t want to be a burden, living under your roof!” I snatched my clothes and stormed off. Tears streamed down my face as I started to rewash my things in the sink. Wait a minute… where were my panties? They must have gotten lost in the shuffle. At dinner, an unspoken truce hung between us. Liam was silent, his focus entirely on placing more food onto my plate. I was still fuming, stubbornly shoveling food into my mouth without looking at him. Then, a red folder slid into my line of sight. “I transferred the deed to you a while ago,” Liam said, his tone casual, almost dismissive. “The house is yours. Don’t overthink it.” Because my university and his company were in the same city, our parents had bought this villa for us to share. It was easier than dorms, and he could drive me to and from campus. We’d grown up side-by-side, inseparable. He did my laundry, cooked my meals… he spoiled me more than our parents ever did. Everyone used to joke that he was a cold-hearted CEO to the world, but at home, he was just a pathetic simp for his sister. I had pushed myself to get into Avalon University just for him, just so we could keep living together. That way, when a horror movie scared me, I could still crawl into his bed. I could keep basking in the warmth of his affection. But that single, sterile piece of paper—the DNA report—had shattered everything. He’d become cold. Distant. I thought he was afraid I’d try to fight him for the family inheritance. But now he was just… giving me the house. Maybe I was the one with the twisted mind. Later that night, while Liam was in the shower, I snuck into his room, burrowing under his covers just like I used to. His bed smelled of ebony and sandalwood, an austere and sensual scent that was a perfect match for his restrained intensity. I was happily breathing it in when a flash of white under his pillow caught my eye. I tugged at it. It was my lace panties. My face went nuclear-hot. They were the ones from the laundry… the unwashed ones. What were they doing here? Click. The bathroom door opened. I dove back under the covers instantly. Peeking through a tiny gap, I saw Liam. His chest was bare, droplets of water tracing a path from his sharp jawline, over his Adam’s apple, and down to the sharp V of his hips, where a pair of silk pajama pants hung precariously. As he towel-dried his hair, the fabric swayed, and my gaze involuntarily dropped to the prominent bulge beneath. Note to self: next time I buy him underwear, go up a size. No wonder he never even opened the last pack I got him. A strange heat began to creep through my body. It was probably just stuffy under the blankets. He finished with his hair and slid into bed. The cool, smooth feel of his skin so close sent a shiver of excitement through me. Before he could react, I popped my head out from under the comforter, a sweet, innocent smile plastered on my face. “Lily! Get out!” His voice was louder than usual, sharp with authority. “Didn’t I tell you? You’re not allowed in my bed anymore!” He was yelling at me again. The force of his words stunned me. A wave of hurt washed over me, and my eyes welled with tears. “Why are you yelling at me? Don’t you even want to know why I came in here?” Seeing my tears, he immediately softened, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “What’s wrong? Okay, don’t cry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. Just… talk to me.” Crying had always been my secret weapon against him. He couldn’t stand to see me cry. “I’m sorry, brother,” I choked out between sobs. “I misunderstood you earlier. I shouldn’t have said those things.” He was so good to me, and I’d accused him of such awful motives. A stray piece of my hair fell across his cheek. He sighed, and his hand lifted, an instinctual move to tuck it behind my ear. But he stopped, his fingers hovering in the air between us. He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting some internal battle, before balling his hand into a fist and pulling it back. We were so close, my body sprawled over his. As our eyes met, I saw his pupils dilate, his breathing becoming ragged and shallow. “Brother,” I whispered. “Hmm?” I shifted uncomfortably. “Something’s… digging into me.” His arm tightened around me like a steel band, pinning me in place. “Don’t move,” he growled, his voice thick. “Brother, let me go, it’s uncomfortable.” “Don’t call me that.” What? So we couldn’t be real siblings, and now we couldn’t even be regular siblings? This corporate shark was truly heartless. Fine. See if I’d listen. “Brother, brother, brother…” I taunted, chanting the word over and over. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a hard swallow, his long lashes trembling with the effort of his restraint. “If you say that one more time, I’ll ruin you.” The last two words were ground out between clenched teeth. I stuck my tongue out at him. “Brother, brother!” I wasn’t going to let him win. If he didn’t want me to say it, I’d scream it. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” And then he moved, pulling me down hard against him. My eyes flew open as he buried his face in the curve of my neck. His damp hair brushed against my collarbone, and his hot breath sent sparks across my skin. A low, desperate groan escaped his throat, a sound that sent a jolt of pure electricity from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes. His knee nudged my legs apart. “Liam,” I gasped, my sharp cry cutting through the charged silence. In my panic, my nails dug into his back, leaving a thin red line. I heard him hiss in a sharp breath. With a sudden, violent shove, Liam pushed me away. He scrambled out of bed and fled into the en-suite bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him. I lay there, staring at the ceiling, my mind a complete blank. A sliver of light escaped from under the bathroom door. I could see his tall, lean silhouette moving behind the frosted glass. God, his body was incredible—broad shoulders, narrow hips, every movement hinting at a tightly coiled strength. I remembered the feeling of that strength pinning me down, flipping me over… and my face began to burn again. If I hadn’t stopped him… My thoughts were still drifting when his shadow disappeared from the door. The main bedroom’s bathroom was set further back, but if I listened closely, I could still hear the shower turn on. The sound of rushing water filled the room, but beneath it, I could hear something else. Low, restrained gasps. Pained, desperate breaths. The sound of the water and his labored breathing washed over me, a strange, intoxicating symphony. Minutes ticked by. I told myself I’d wait for him to come out, wish him goodnight, and go back to my own room. But he was taking forever. Could he have passed out from the steam? “Are you okay in there?” I called out, a genuine thread of concern in my voice. “You’ve been in there for a while.” Silence. Then, his voice came, rough and raw. “Lily.” “Yeah?” “Walk over to the bathroom door.” I did as he asked, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet. “Liam, are you sure you’re okay?” The frosted glass reflected my own fuzzy image. I couldn’t see anything else. “Good. Stop right there. Don’t move.” His voice was even thicker now, his breathing more ragged, more urgent. It built and built until a final, choked-off groan tore from his throat. Then, silence. That night, I had a dream. I dreamt I was in his shower. Under the spray of hot water, he was looking down at me, coaxing me to open my mouth. I refused. The next second, his hand shot out, cupping my jaw, forcing my lips apart, wider and wider. He covered my eyes with his other hand. I was blind, but my other senses were on fire. I could hear the rustle of fabric, and then a torrent of fire was forced into my mouth. It wasn’t his usual cold arrogance; this was lava flowing just beneath a sheet of ice. My mouth was full, I couldn’t speak, only struggle against the burning sensation as it filled me, consumed me. Finally, when I couldn’t take any more, he pulled back, removing the hand from my eyes. The next morning, I woke up to a faint, sticky residue crusted at the corner of my mouth. I must have been drooling again, I thought. I knew sleeping with my mouth open was a bad habit; I even used those little mouth tapes to try and correct it. But every morning, the tape was gone, probably ripped off in my sleep. I really needed better self-control. “Liam, Lily, are you two awake?” Mom’s voice, a welcome and familiar sound, drifted in from the living room. Mom was here! Forgetting everything else, I bolted out of my room. She drove into town once a month to see us, always bringing her homemade strawberry jam and kimchi, and she’d usually tidy up the house for us. This time, along with the food, she’d brought me a gift: a butterfly-back dress. Her eyes were full of warmth as she held it up. “The moment I saw this in the store, I thought of you. I told your father, ‘Our Lily will look like an absolute angel in this.’” I held the dress against myself, hesitating. “It’s beautiful, Mom, but… isn’t it a little revealing? I’ve never even worn a skirt that doesn’t go past my knees.” This thing was so short, I felt like I’d flash someone just by bending over. Mom examined it again. “Well, it is a little sexy, I suppose. But you’re a college girl now, Lily! You can’t live in white t-shirts and jeans forever. A change of style is good! And this dress is perfect for you.” “But—” Before I could finish, Liam walked out of his room for breakfast. Mom immediately grabbed him, seeking his approval. “Liam, look! Isn’t this dress perfect for your sister?” He glanced at the dress, then at me, his expression unreadable. He gave Mom a clipped, dismissive “Mm-hmm.” That was all the encouragement she needed. “Then you’ll wear this on your date with Ethan this weekend! The Sanders family adores you. Mrs. Sanders was just telling me the other day…” At the mention of Ethan, I blushed. Ethan Sanders was Liam’s best friend and the heir to the Sanders Corp fortune. He’d even provided the seed money for Liam’s startup. Our parents had always hoped Ethan and I would get together; the alliance would be a huge boost for Liam’s company. Liam, who had been quietly eating his breakfast, cut Mom off. “It’s ugly. The dress is hideous, and it’ll look even worse on her.” “Hey! Don’t you talk about your sister that way.” “She’s not my sister,” Liam said, his voice dropping ten degrees. “Liam!” Mom’s voice shot up an octave. She was furious. The atmosphere in the living room turned thick and heavy. Mom glared at Liam, her lips a thin, hard line. I looked down, my hands twisting the hem of my shirt, my eyes starting to burn. Seeing my distress, Mom’s expression softened. She stroked my cheek gently before turning her glare back on her son. “Liam, if you ever say that again, you are no son of mine. As long as your father and I are alive, Lily is, and always will be, your sister.” “Oh my god, Ethan is going to lose his damn mind.” My cousin, Chloe, was practically vibrating with excitement after I’d filled her in and shown her the dress. I rolled my eyes. “Please. A guy like that has seen every kind of beautiful woman there is.” She wagged a finger at me. “Nuh-uh. The way that man looks at you… it’s so gentle. You’re exactly his type.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Wow, listen to you, the relationship expert. So how does your god-tier guy look at you?” She paused to think. “Ethan’s gentle. My guy… he’s not. He looks at me like he wants to devour me whole.” Chloe had transformed into a self-proclaimed love guru ever since she started college. “The way he looks at me is… oh, I know! It’s the same way Liam looks at you!” “Ahem!” I nearly choked on my water. “You can talk crap about anything else, but not that.” “Fine, don’t believe me,” she said, fiddling with a charm on my backpack. “So, any plans for the long weekend?” “Liam’s teaching me how to bake. He already bought all the ingredients; I just need to be ready.” Her eyes lit up with mischief. She leaned in close, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Ooh, he’s got everything ready for you, huh?” She put a suggestive emphasis on the word ‘everything.’ “Huh?” It took me a second to catch her drift. “I mean, Liam hits the gym all the time, right? He must have crazy stamina. Can your little body even handle that?” Her meaning slammed into me. This girl’s mind was permanently in the gutter. I flicked her forehead. “You’re insane. Liam and I are siblings.” “So? Not by blood,” she shot back, leaning in even closer, her eyes gleaming. “Don’t you think the whole forbidden step-sibling thing is way hotter?” “You’re impossible.” … We horsed around until, before we knew it, the sky had grown dark and Liam was calling us for dinner. Just before we left my room, Chloe insisted I try on the dress. I slipped it on, and her eyes went wide. She pushed me in front of the full-length mirror. “Damn, girl. If you wore this with black stockings, Liam would be good for ten rounds a night.” I stared at my reflection. The iridescent lavender fabric clung to my curves, highlighting my collarbones, my narrow waist, my long legs. Chloe had swept my dark hair into a messy bun, letting a few wisps fall around the nape of my neck. The look was somehow both sweet and dangerously alluring. Seeing myself like this for the first time made me blush. I was just about to change when the door swung open. “This is the third time I’ve called you two for dinner. What are you doing in here?” Liam stood in the doorway, a spatula still in his hand. I had just started to unzip the dress. His gaze landed on my bare legs, then quickly darted away, but not before I saw the tips of his ears turn a deep shade of red. The air between the three of us crackled and froze. “Get dressed. And come eat,” he muttered, turning on his heel and all but running from the room. At the dinner table, Chloe kept casually bringing up my upcoming date with Ethan. Liam, who had been silent all evening, finally spoke, his voice low and firm. “Don’t go see him this weekend.” I was taken aback. “Why not? You were always fine with it before. You said he was a gentle guy, that he’d be good to me.” He placed a perfectly peeled shrimp in my bowl. “Things are different now.” “What’s different?” “You’re not my sister anymore.” There it was again. That phrase. I put down my chopsticks and looked him straight in the eye. “So, because I’m not your sister, I don’t even have the right to date your best friend? Is that it?” He wouldn’t meet my gaze, focusing on peeling another shrimp for me. “That’s not what I meant.” “Uh… Lily, cuz… my boyfriend just called. He’s going into labor—I mean, his cat is! Gotta go!” Chloe sensed the impending explosion, grabbed her bag, and bolted. Liam sighed heavily. “If you insist on seeing him, fine. Just don’t wear that dress.” A stubborn fire ignited in me. I was going to get to the bottom of this tonight. I stormed back to my room, not only putting the butterfly dress back on but also pulling on a pair of black stockings I’d never worn before. The mirror reflected a stranger with long, slender legs. Full of newfound confidence, I flung open my door. “Liam. Open your eyes and take a good, hard look. Tell me exactly what’s so ugly about this. If you can’t find a single flaw, then this is what I’m wearing on my date.” Liam’s eyes locked onto me, his dark pupils swimming in ink. A storm of suppressed emotion churned within them, like the oppressive, heavy sky before a hurricane. He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, his voice thick and hoarse when he finally spoke. “Lily, don’t push me.” The next thing I knew, I was being lifted onto his lap, the familiar scent of dark woods and spice overwhelming my senses. The dim light cast our entangled shadows against the pale curtains. His hand came to rest on my thigh. The calloused pads of his fingers were a stark, rough contrast against the smooth silk of the stockings, sending a tremor through my entire body. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Lily, the reason I don’t want you to wear this dress… is because I’m afraid he’ll hurt you.” His voice was low, pleading. “You don’t understand men.” I gathered my courage. “And you? Do you want to hurt me?” I shifted, straddling him, my arms wrapping around his neck. The move closed the already nonexistent distance between us. I could see the thick fan of his lashes, the raw, unguarded emotion in his eyes. His breathing grew heavier, hotter. “You have no idea what you’re asking for, Lily.” Riiiiip. The sound of tearing fabric filled the silent room. My stockings. My dress. He was destroying it. Seeing the loss of control in his eyes, a real sense of panic began to set in. “Brother,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Don’t call me that!” he snarled. “And don’t look at me with those eyes!” At the same time, he surged upward. The sudden, intense pain made tears spring to my eyes, hot and fast. “Liam, calm down—” My words were smothered as his mouth crashed down on mine. He wasn’t just kissing me; he was consuming me, trying to devour me whole. In the chaotic haze, the hem of my ruined dress was pushed up to my waist. The dam of my tears broke, flooding my cheeks.

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The new intern, on a crusade to “fix the workplace,” decided to make me his first target. To get back at him, my CEO girlfriend—who loved me more than life itself—devised a plan to destroy him by setting him up for a fall. She kicked me out of my VP position and promoted him instead. She bought him a luxury car for his commute and a villa for a “dorm,” insisting it was all part of the trap, begging me to be patient. Then my sister’s heart condition worsened. I begged my girlfriend for an adMarshall on my salary to cover the surgery. She agreed instantly. But on the day of the operation, I waited at the hospital from dawn until dusk. The money never came. The only thing that did was a notification—a social media post from the intern, dripping with mockery: “My CEO is too nice for her own good. An employee asked for a salary adMarshall… what if he just quits without paying it back? I rejected it on her behalf! PS: Next time you want to scam someone, at least come up with a believable excuse!” My sister died. Only then did my girlfriend finally call, her voice syrupy and sweet. “Don’t be mad, honey. We’ll just delay Annie’s surgery for a couple more days. I have to endure this humiliation. The higher I build Leo up, the harder he’ll fall. Don’t worry, his birthday is in two days. I’m going to publicly humiliate him, make him lose everything. Then, we’ll have a lavish wedding to make Annie happy!” But I already knew the truth. Her so-called “setup” was just an excuse for her blatant favoritism. I was done with her. 1 “Owen, are you sure you want to join us? This is fantastic! We leave in two days!” On the other end of the line, the HR manager from the European tech giant was ecstatic. They’d been trying to recruit me for seven years, even setting up a local branch office just to make it easier to poach me. “I’m sure,” I said. The morgue was so silent I could hear my own voice echo. I took one last look at my ten-year-old sister, Annie, her small face tinged with a deathly blue. I signed the death certificate and found the coroner. He said the cremation fee was two thousand dollars, payable in adMarshall. After Annie’s health took a nosedive, my years of savings had vanished. My life had revolved entirely around my girlfriend, Stella, leaving me with no friends to turn to. After she demoted me from my VP role, even my colleagues kept their distance. Now, I couldn’t find a single person willing to lend me money. My eyes fell instinctively to the watch on my right wrist. It was the first gift Stella had ever given me, a token of our love that had cost her three months’ salary. She’d told me I was priceless to her. I had tried to sell it earlier today, but the appraisal was only $3,000—nowhere near the $30,000 needed for the surgery. A drop in the ocean. I couldn’t bring myself to part with it then. Perhaps it was fate telling me to let it go now. I listed it online for a low price of $2,000, and a local buyer contacted me almost immediately. As I rushed out to make the exchange, I was knocked to the ground by a black-suited bodyguard. My phone skittered across the pavement, the screen cracking. When I looked up, I saw Stella pushing a wheelchair-bound Leo into the hospital, flanked by an entourage of doctors, nurses, and more bodyguards. Her face was etched with worry, a fine sheen of sweat on her forehead. Our eyes met for a fleeting second before she looked away. A nurse helped me up, sighing under her breath. “Talk about different fates. That CEO’s boyfriend just sprains his ankle and the entire hospital staff is on call. Meanwhile, there’s a little girl with a heart defect who can’t even afford her surgery fee…” I shook my head, telling her I was fine. A moment later, Stella strode back towards me, her expression grim. She grabbed my arm and pulled me down to the underground parking garage. Inside her car, with no one else around, she scowled. “Are you so desperate for money you’d follow me here?!” Realizing her tone was too harsh, her features softened slightly. “Leo twisted his ankle coming down the stairs. He’s being such a drama queen, refusing to get it checked unless I’m with him.” “I know you’re still angry about him rejecting your salary adMarshall. Here, take this and go,” she said, her voice dropping. “Don’t let Leo see you. He’ll get the wrong idea.” She didn’t even realize that while her words called him a drama queen, her eyes held an unmistakable, melting fondness. She used to look at me that way. When I had a simple stomachache, she’d sit by my hospital bed all day, personally making me congee until her hands were covered in blisters. Stella took out her phone. A second later, mine buzzed. A transfer of $200. She smiled, a little too brightly. “Leo likes to check my phone. He’d be upset if he knew I was giving you too much money privately. Use this to buy Annie some nice supplements. Cheer her up, okay?” I clenched my phone. We were supposed to be the real couple, yet here we were, sneaking around like criminals. A bitter, self-mocking laugh escaped me, and I transferred the $200 right back to her. She froze, halfway out of the car, finally sensing something was wrong. She turned back, patting my hand. “Owen, I know you’ve been wronged. But to make Leo fall, we have to let him have everything first. The pain will be unbearable when he loses it all. That’s how we’ll get your revenge!” But the one who was losing everything, the one whose pain was unbearable… that was me. A year ago, when Leo first joined the company, he’d swaggered in, vowing to “rectify the workplace,” and made me, the VP, his first victim. I asked him to print a document; he said he was hired to work, not be an errand boy. I asked my assistant for coffee; he snatched it and threw it in my face, telling me to do my own chores. Later, when I was on the verge of closing a multi-million-dollar deal, he refused to release the company seal, accusing me of trying to embezzle corporate assets. The client walked, and a month of sleepless nights went down the drain. I mentioned it to Stella, and she decided to get even for me, orchestrating this grand “setup.” To destroy a man, first let him swell with pride. In the beginning, whenever Stella praised Leo with backhanded compliments, she’d always shoot me a conspiratorial wink. I’d stifle a laugh and play along, pretending to be crushed, which only fueled Leo’s ego. But slowly, the act became real. Stella’s praise for Leo started to sound like genuine admiration. Her indifference and dismissiveness towards me felt less and less like a performance. A year ago, I lost my VP position. A week ago, my sister had a heart attack, triggered by the stress of seeing her future sister-in-law buying a house for another man. The surgery had a 100% success rate, but she died because her useless brother couldn’t scrape together the fee. And now, the woman in front of me, my girlfriend, had changed somewhere along the way. A wave of utter desolation washed over me. “Stella, we—” The words should break up were on the tip of my tongue when her phone rang. The caller ID read “My Dearest Leo.” Stella opened the car door, stepping outside to take the call. She never used to hide her calls from me; she’d put them on speaker to avoid any misunderstanding. Afterwards, she’d mock Leo’s arrogance and swear she only loved me. Now, she leaned against the car door, her fingers toying with the hem of her blouse, a sweet smile on her face. Then, her voice rose in feigned surprise. “Your foot is still injured! Don’t come looking for me!” The next moment, I saw a tall, thin figure limping into the parking garage. Stella rushed to meet him, catching him in her arms. Leo’s eyes found me in the passenger seat, and a cruel, triumphant smile spread across his face. He quickened his pace and yanked me out of the car. “Owen, who said you could sit in Stella’s car? Can you afford to replace the leather seats if you get them dirty? Don’t tell me you were trying to borrow money from her again. Sucking your ex-girlfriend dry… are you even a man?” As if to assert his dominance, he expertly slipped his hand into Stella’s pocket, pulled out her phone, and unlocked it. Seeing the reversed transaction, he threw the phone to the ground. “Stella! I try to be considerate of you, but you’re still hung up on your ex! Forget it, you don’t have to take me to the doctor. I’d rather my leg just break!” He turned to leave in a huff. Stella, the decisive, formidable CEO, stood there, unable to argue. She started to chase after him, then stopped abruptly. She turned back, took my hand, and gave it a gentle shake, her voice earnest. “Owen, just two more days. Please, just bear with it for two more days. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” It was her favorite way to get what she wanted from me, a display of vulnerability that used to fill my heart with tenderness. Now, it only filled me with disgust. Before I could pull my hand away, she was already gone, chasing after Leo. I stood there, motionless, wiping the back of my hand on my shirt. But Stella, in two days, I’ll be gone. And I’m not taking you with me. 2 After leaving the garage, I quickly met the buyer and got the money for Annie’s cremation. By the time I carried her ashes home, night had fallen. Stella wasn’t there. But for the first time in months, she sent me a message, telling me she was staying at the hospital to take care of Leo because his leg was hurting too much. The last time she’d bothered to tell me her whereabouts was ages ago. For the first time, I didn’t feel a pang of jealousy or demand compensation. I just opened my work software and submitted my resignation. It sat there, pending approval. I put my phone down and ignored it. With only two days left, I needed to pack. I’d go to the office tomorrow to tie up loose ends. Seven years of my life, condensed into a single 20-inch suitcase. The next morning, I was still asleep when a sharp knock woke me. It was Stella’s assistant. She saw the packed suitcase and paused. “Mr. Hayes, are you going on a trip?” “Yes.” She didn’t press further. “Ms. Marshall would like you to come with me.” I wanted to refuse, but the bodyguards behind her made it clear it wasn’t a request. Our destination was a bridal boutique. Stella greeted me with a beaming smile, pulling me into a fitting room. She held up a custom-tailored suit and began to dress me, her head bowed as she fastened my tie. Looking down at the top of her head, I felt a strange sense of detachment. To make her “setup” convincing, she had maintained a physical distance from me, claiming she had to fool herself before she could fool others. As she fastened my cufflinks, she suddenly stopped. “Where’s your watch?” Before I could answer, she chuckled lightly. “Oh, right. You probably put it back in its box for safekeeping.” “My handsome Owen looks so dashing in a suit like this!” she cooed. “I’ve already had our wedding designed. It’s a seaside ceremony, just like you always wanted, with a flower arch for Annie. She can be our flower girl, how does that sound?” Her words were soft and gentle, but they pierced my ears like needles. I clenched my fists, remembering Annie’s last moments, her tear-filled eyes as she asked me, “Brother, why hasn’t sister-in-law come to save me yet?” I remembered how Stella used to adore Annie, fussing over her health, telling her bedtime stories for hours without a hint of fatigue. Marrying Stella had once been my ultimate dream. A dream that would now never come true. “Stella, the wedding—” She smiled sweetly, placing a finger on my lips. “Our plan is almost complete. Tomorrow is Leo’s birthday. I’m going to announce his termination in front of everyone. The house, the car—all of it will be reclaimed through legal action. He’s gotten used to a life of luxury; he won’t even eat at a restaurant that isn’t five-star. I can’t wait to see what he does when he has nothing, when anyone can step on him. Let’s see him try to ‘rectify the workplace’ then!”

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The moment I was about to confess to my online crush in person, comments started appearing out of thin air. 【Girl, don’t even bother. The main character is avoiding you like the plague. He’s kicking himself for realizing he was talking to the wrong person this whole time.】 【It’s all her fault for using an avatar so similar to the female lead’s. Otherwise, Alex would have never gotten them mixed up.】 【It’s so cringe thinking that she was the one who comforted the main character after his big game loss. All those sweet, romantic messages were sent to her. Ugh.】 【You think you’re cringing? The main character is totally grossed out, too. And poor Jia, our female lead, only just added him as a friend yesterday. So frustrating.】 【This side character is the absolute worst.】 Stunned, I looked up just in time to see Alex walking off the court after a game. When he saw me, his eyes darted away, trying his best to avoid me. I sidestepped him and shoved the confession letter I was holding into his roommate’s hands. Online crush? Please. He wasn’t my only one. Those good-night audio messages I sent? I sent those to a whole group chat. 1 Seeing those floating comments, my mind went blank. Standing outside the basketball court, I watched the text continue to scroll by as I slowly pieced things together. According to these comments, I was nothing more than a disposable side character in a sweet, campus romance novel. And Alex, my online chat buddy, was the male lead. I glanced down at the love letter in my hand. It all made sense now. No wonder his replies had been so slow and perfunctory lately, his words tinged with an obvious annoyance. He had mistaken me for someone else from the very beginning. He thought I was the female lead, Jia, which is why he’d added me, why he’d chatted with me, why he’d developed feelings through an endless stream of “good mornings” and “good nights.” Now that he knew the truth, he couldn’t stand the sight of me. He saw me as the main obstacle standing between him and Jia. A burst of noise from nearby drew my attention. I looked up to see Alex heading my way. He was in a blue jersey, a white sweatband across his forehead. He casually took a water bottle from a teammate and took a long drink. He was magnetic, the object of countless girls’ secret crushes. He practically shimmered. A few steps later, he saw me. Alex stopped dead in his tracks. Then, he stiffly averted his gaze and started talking to the guy next to him. Seeing his reaction, I sighed. So, the comments were true. 【If I were her, I’d stay far away from him. Why embarrass yourself?】 【Exactly. The main characters are a match made in heaven. She’s just trying to butt in. It’s so pathetic.】 【He literally can’t even look at her.】 Alex really wasn’t looking at me. He was staring down at his phone, probably texting someone. A small smile played on his lips. It had to be Jia, his newly added friend. Just as he was about to walk past me, I gently grabbed his wrist. He looked at me, startled. I smiled. “Are you Alex?” The comments started scrolling furiously, all of them cursing me out. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on Alex. “Excuse me, is Jack Wolf your roommate? Do you know where he is right now?” Alex froze. “Why are you looking for him?” I waved the letter. “I have something I want to give him.” 2 Alex was silent, but his teammate, who had been watching with interest, chimed in. “Jack? You’re looking for Jack? He’s over at the tennis courts.” “Oh, great.” I released Alex’s wrist. “Thanks.” With that, I turned and headed for the tennis courts, letter in hand. I could hear whispers behind me. They weren’t exactly quiet whispers, either; I could hear every word. “Damn, that girl’s got guts. She’s into Jack Wolf?” “Yeah, that guy is so creepy and intense. Who would actually be into him?” “He’s good-looking, though. Not handsome like Alex, but like, pretty. It’s not that weird for someone who’s all about looks to like him.” “Hey, Alex, why are you so quiet?” “Alex, where are you going?! Aren’t you coming to dinner?” The sound of hurried footsteps followed me. A moment later, a figure blocked my path. I blinked. “Alex? Can I help you with something?” Alex frowned, his gaze flickering between me and the letter in my hand. He seemed to realize what he was doing and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “It’s nothing. I just remembered… my roommate has a weird temper. You don’t know him, so showing up out of the blue might piss him off. Maybe I should give the letter to him for you?” The comments lit up. 【What’s this? Is she playing hard to get?】 【You scared me for a second. I thought the main character actually had a thing for this totally average side character. Looks like he’s just a nice guy.】 【Honestly though, when he lost that big game, her comfort was actually really important. He wouldn’t have bounced back so fast without it. If I were him, I might have actually fallen for her.】 The comments made my mind wander. They were talking about a basketball game last fall, one that had been really important to Alex. He had choked during a critical play, and they lost. His teammates tried to console him, but he could feel their thinly veiled disappointment, and he was consumed by shame and self-blame. He had gone off to hide by himself. At the time, he hadn’t responded to any of my texts. Finally, I recorded a deliberately off-key song for him. That got a response. “Please stop singing,” he’d texted back. “You’re going to kill me.” His tone was exasperated, but I could sense the faint hint of a smile. I stayed up all night talking to him, and by morning, he was finally feeling better. 【That was supposed to be the female lead’s scene! She stole it! Alex could never fall for her. He has only ever loved Jia.】 【Exactly! It was love at first sight with Jia. He only added the side character because he thought she was Jia. Otherwise, she wouldn’t even be on his friends list.】 I suppose that was true. I shook my head at Alex. “No thanks. Jack and I are actually pretty good friends.” Alex looked stunned. “How?” I leaned in, lowering my voice conspiratorially. “Actually, we’ve known each other for three years. We’ve only ever talked online, though. We’ve never met in person.” I feigned a blush. “With graduation coming up, I figured I should just go for it and confess. You know, give myself a shot.” 【What does she mean? Did she get the wrong person too?】 【This is great. If she goes for the gloomy villain, she’ll leave our main character alone.】 【But look at the main character’s face. He doesn’t look too happy about this.】 Alex just stood there, frowning, a comically conflicted look on his face. I glanced over his shoulder and my eyes lit up. “Oh, I see him! Alex, talk to you later!” “Are you sure you have the right person?” he blurted out. I paused. “The right person for what?” Alex gritted his teeth. “You said you’ve never met. How can you be sure that’s Jack?” His question made me laugh. “Who else would it be? You?” “Not me,” he denied, almost too quickly. I stared at him for a long moment. He couldn’t meet my gaze. “Right,” I said, nodding. “So, Alex, you don’t need to worry about my business.” With that, I darted around him, heading towards the group of people leaving the tennis courts. Alex instinctively raised a hand to stop me, then let it drop. 3 Jack’s 6’2″ frame made him easy to spot. He was walking at the back of the group, his slightly-too-long hair tied back. His bangs were damp with sweat, and he casually brushed them aside, revealing sharp, handsome features. But his eyes were cold, broadcasting a clear “stay away” message. Besides tennis practice, no one ever seemed to hang out with him. I weaved through the crowd of tall athletes and came to a stop directly in front of him. He almost bumped into me. When he saw my face, he seemed to pause for a fraction of a second. “Can I help you?” I shoved the letter into his hand. “Yeah. I’m here to confess my feelings for you.” Jack looked down at the crumpled pink envelope in his palm, then back up at me. … Everything I had told Alex was true. I really did know Jack pretty well. Or at least, I felt like I did. I have this thing where I’m overly empathetic. I love providing emotional support; I want to be a safe haven for every sad boy and girl in the world. So, Alex wasn’t my only online friend. He just happened to be the one who responded the most, the one who needed the most validation. He’d vent to me after a bad game and beg me to sing him to sleep at night. Jack was the complete opposite. He was so aloof I could send him ten messages and not get a single reply. But I didn’t care. I just really, really liked his face. Meeting his gaze now, I wasn’t flustered at all. “Let me introduce myself. I’m Lana, from the statistics department next door. It’s okay if you don’t accept my confession, but how about we at least get to know each other in person?” Jack didn’t say much. He just slung his tennis racket over his shoulder and walked away. I wasn’t bothered. I cheerfully headed to the cafeteria. On the way, my phone buzzed. It was a message from another one of my online friends, “Jia-licious.” 【Lana, you said your therapist suggested getting a boyfriend might help with your… emotional over-investment. How’s that going?】 I typed back: 【I had a target, but I’ve decided to switch. What about you? Didn’t you say you added your crush? How’s that going?】 Jia-licious seemed troubled: 【It’s okay. But after adding him, I kind of lost interest. Honestly, talking to you is more fun.】 Just then, the floating comments went wild, as if they’d just seen a ghost. 【Can someone please tell me why the side character is also friends with the female lead?】 【So, our main character is just one of many fish in her pond?】 【Jia, what are you doing?! Alex is waiting for your reply! Why are you chatting with this girl?!】 【Lana, turn around! The creepy guy is following you! Are you really going to go through with this?】 【This is a total mess. I can’t even.】 I kept texting Jia while keeping an eye on the comments. It seemed they were good for something, after all. So Jia-licious was Jia, the female lead. And Jack was following me. I whipped my head around. Jack froze, about fifty feet away. He didn’t seem embarrassed at all to be caught. He just walked towards me with a blank expression, passed right by me, and kept going. That level of composure was not normal. I was impressed. Shrugging, I headed into the cafeteria. I was exhausted. After getting back to my dorm and showering, I felt my eyelids getting heavy. I sent out my customary “good night” messages to my various online friends. When I got to Alex’s chat window, I paused. Oh, right. He didn’t need one. As I was about to close the app, I noticed the “Typing…” indicator flashing on and off in his chat. I waited a moment, but nothing came through. I was too tired to care. I shut off my phone and went to sleep. 4 I was serious about finding a boyfriend. The next day, after class, I went straight to the tennis courts to find Jack. I was too early; the courts were mostly empty. After wandering around for a bit, I returned to find an argument in progress. “Coach, the ball machine was already broken when I got here! And it looks like someone did it on purpose!” “Who was the last one to leave last night?” “It was Jack. He came back after dinner and stayed until closing.” “Did you check the security cameras?” “The camera’s broken. It hasn’t been fixed yet.” Just then, Jack arrived. Everyone went quiet and turned to look at him. The coach scowled. “Jack, did you break the machine?” Jack glanced at him. “No.” His dismissive attitude infuriated the coach. “Don’t deny it just because you did something wrong. It’s not a big deal.” The other players started whispering. “It was probably him.” “He won’t admit it. He’s probably scared he’ll have to pay for it.” “What a jerk…” The comments were all pointing fingers at Jack, too. 【There’s a reason he’s not the main character. The guy has no integrity.】 【Look at the way he’s glaring. Kinda scary.】 Jack’s expression darkened. His gaze fell on someone in the crowd, paused for a moment, then he pulled out his phone. He found a video and played it for the coach. The video showed an empty tennis court. In the corner, a figure could be seen kicking the ball machine violently. The shot was brief. The camera then flipped around to a girl’s face. “Hey Jack, aren’t you at the courts yet? I’ve been waiting for ages…” A familiar voice, a familiar face. Everyone turned to look at me, standing at the back of the crowd. Even with my thick skin, I couldn’t handle all the stares. I gave an awkward laugh. “Heh, just messing around, filming random stuff.” But thanks to my random video, Jack was cleared. The coach walked over to me. “Miss, did you see who damaged the equipment?” I pointed to a guy in the crowd. “Him.” The video had jogged my memory. “It was definitely him,” I said with absolute certainty. The guy exploded, vehemently denying it. “It wasn’t me!” “It was you! You were kicking it and swearing, saying Jack must have bribed the coach to get picked for the tournament in Beijing!” The coach’s face darkened. He glared at the accused. “What did you just say?” “I didn’t say that!” “Oh,” I said, pretending to search through my phone. “I actually recorded more than one video that day. Let me just find the other one.” The guy panicked. Under the weight of everyone’s stares, he broke and ran. His reaction was a clear admission of guilt. “Alright, break it up! Back to practice!” the coach barked. “Coach,” I said, stepping forward with a grin. “Aren’t you forgetting something?” He frowned. “What?” I pointed to Jack, who was quietly organizing his rackets on the other side of the court. “You haven’t apologized to him yet. You accused him in front of everyone. Don’t you think you owe him an apology?” Across the court, Jack’s hands stilled. He looked up at me. I was getting an earful from the coach. “Who is this brat? Get out of here! Don’t disrupt our practice!” He was fuming. “All unauthorized personnel, out! Out!” He stormed off. I pursed my lips and wiped my face. Jack, however, had a barely perceptible smile on his face. I saw it. “Are you laughing at me?” His expression immediately went blank again. “No.” I pouted. “I don’t care. I helped you today. You have to buy me a drink.” Jack looked at me, then nodded. “Okay.” 【Wait, am I the only one who thinks they have chemistry?】 【This is so weird. What’s with all the eye contact?】 【Something’s off here. Let’s see how this plays out.】 【My main characters haven’t even had a proper conversation, and you two are already going on a date?】

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The sleek black car pulled up to the curb, and I knew it was Alexander. The man I married—a man known for his cold, impenetrable discipline. And yet, his new secretary was sitting in my seat. Right then, I knew. This marriage was over. 1 That day, Alexander Sterling came to pick me up. My hand froze on the handle of the passenger side door. A young, beautiful girl was already sitting there, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. “Mrs. Sterling! So nice to finally meet you!” Her greeting was polite, dripping with manufactured sweetness. But she made no move to get out. My eyes narrowed, my gaze shifting to Alexander. He was on the phone, his head bowed, oblivious to the silent storm brewing in his car. We were supposed to be going to an auction tonight. A date. I’d spent hours getting ready, anticipating this rare evening out with him, only to find my seat—my spot—occupied. “It’s an honor, Mrs. Sterling. I’m Shailene White, Mr. Sterling’s new assistant,” the girl chirped, her smile deepening to reveal two perfect, almost sickeningly sweet dimples. “I heard you were going to a private auction tonight, and I begged Mr. Sterling to let me tag along and see what it’s like. Don’t worry, I won’t be any trouble at all.” A stone dropped in the pit of my stomach. I knew this man, this coolly perfect creature I was married to. He maintained a formidable distance from everyone. He didn’t let people in. Ours was a marriage of alliance, a calculated choice between two powerful families. People had joked that I was marrying a statue, that I’d be a lonely wife. But after we were engaged, Alexander would hold me with a surprising warmth in his eyes. In moments of passion, the tips of his ears would flush a deep red. “You’re my wife, Ava,” he’d said once, his voice low. “We’re a unit. That makes you different from everyone else.” Today, it seemed, something had changed. 2 But I am not some wilting flower who suffers in silence. I am Ava Newton, and I have never had to ask permission to be angry. “Out.” The single word, cold and sharp, hung in the air. The girl stared at me, her smile faltering. She clearly hadn’t expected me to humiliate her so publicly on our first meeting. My tone must have been harsher than I intended, because for a moment, Shailene looked utterly lost. “I… I’m sorry, Mrs. Sterling.” Her voice trembled, thick with unshed tears, as she scrambled into the back seat. Alexander finished his call just then, his eyes finding mine. He saw the fury on my face and a look of weary indulgence softened his features. He leaned across the console to buckle my seatbelt, his familiar cologne filling the space. But the seat felt wrong. It had been adjusted. My frustration boiled over. “This is infuriating!” I snapped, shoving the seat back aggressively. “Who the hell dares to change the settings on my seat?” The atmosphere in the car turned glacial. In the back, the girl was frozen in silence. Alexander’s brow furrowed slightly. His voice was calm, a stark contrast to my rage. “Ava, if you’re not in the mood tonight, we can just go home.” In the rearview mirror, I saw her, Shailene, silently weeping. The sight made my blood run cold. “Shailene White, is it?” I said, my voice dripping ice. “I’m no longer in the mood. You can get a cab home. My husband and I are leaving.” The girl’s face went pale, and she shot a desperate, pleading look at Alexander. He said nothing, offering her no escape. Defeated, she stumbled out of the car, a ghost in the twilight. 3 Alexander would never undermine me in front of others. He was a master of restraint. That’s why he suggested we go home. If there’s a problem, we solve it at home. It was our unspoken rule, a silent pact we’d honored for years. “She’s just a kid, Ava, fresh out of college. Why are you letting her get to you?” he said, pulling me into his arms the moment we stepped inside our house. “It’s the first time,” I stated, my voice flat. Alexander looked confused. “The first what?” “In all these years, it’s the first time you’ve let another woman sit in your passenger seat.” He hadn’t realized. He hadn’t thought that was what this was about. In our circle, everyone knew how exceptional Alexander Sterling was. Women flocked to him, a constant, buzzing swarm of admirers. But he was untouchable. He moved through a garden of temptations, yet never once plucked a single flower. A faint smile touched his lips as he gently brushed a stray strand of hair from my face. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you jealous.” He leaned in, his lips brushing my cheek, his nose tracing a line down to my jaw. “She’s my employee, Ava. Nothing more. There is nothing between us, and there never will be.” He cupped my face in his hands, forcing me to meet his gaze. His voice was a low, sincere vow. “I promise you.” 4 A woman’s intuition is a powerful thing. Even after only one meeting with Shailene White, I knew. I knew she wanted more from Alexander than a paycheck. I had assumed my little show of force would be enough to put her in her place. But I was wrong. The necklace that should have been mine from the auction appeared the very next day, clasped around her neck. Hannah, Alexander’s chief assistant, sent me a picture and a screenshot from a private social media feed. In the photo, a delicate crescent moon, glittering with diamonds, rested against the pale skin of Shailene’s throat, making her look even more doll-like and innocent. Her eyes were red and swollen, but a triumphant little smile played on her lips. It seemed she’d cried herself a river last night and been rewarded with a very expensive gift. The screenshot was from her Instagram story: [Image: A close-up of the necklace nestled in a velvet box.] Caption: The boss says girls have to be strong even when they’re hurt! Wiping my tears and getting back to it! Yes, sir, Mr. Sterling! Ice flooded my veins. It’s embarrassing to admit, but her little performance almost made me lose my composure. It was an ugly feeling, like finding a pristine white silk scarf stained with a single, ugly drop of ink. The primal urge to jump in my yellow Ferrari, push it to 120, and slap that woman’s smug face was almost overwhelming. But then I looked at my own hands and thought better of it. Was I really going to let some cheap, manipulative girl get to me? That was beneath me. I picked up my phone and called Wendy at Hermès. The joy in Wendy’s voice was unmistakable. “Mrs. Sterling, don’t you worry about a thing,” she gushed. “Even if I have to turn Manhattan upside down, I will find every piece you need and have it delivered today!” And so, that afternoon, before the end of the workday, every single female assistant in the executive wing of Sterling Corp—forty-six women in total, excluding Shailene White—received a thick, orange box from the President’s wife. Inside each was a twelve-thousand-dollar Hermès necklace. While the individual price couldn’t compete with the two-hundred-thousand-dollar auction piece, the sheer volume of it sent a clear message. Hannah, ever the smooth operator, included a small card with instructions for each recipient: post a picture to your social media with a specific caption. [Image: A selfie wearing the new Hermès necklace.] Caption: The boss’s wife says every girl deserves the best! Chin up, ladies! Thank you, Mrs. Sterling! The women were, of course, thrilled to comply. The executive assistants were the nerve center of the office grapevine. Which one of them wouldn’t happily post a picture of a gift from the President’s wife? One particularly savvy assistant even added her own little flourish: Mrs. Sterling knows how to play the game! #bosslady Within half an hour, the entire company was buzzing. Everyone knew the President’s wife had showered the assistants with Hermès. As for why… the gossip mills were churning at full capacity. Shailene White’s face turned ashen. Looking deeply insulted, she fled to the restroom, her eyes brimming with tears, and tore the diamond necklace from her neck. Two colleagues who came in to touch up their makeup saw her and shared a knowing, dismissive laugh. Burning with humiliation, Shailene hurried out, the sound of their mockery chasing her down the hall. Her cheeks were hot with shame as she placed the diamond necklace back in its box. She then marched straight to Alexander’s office and returned it. 5 Alexander had just ended a video conference with his partners when he looked up to see Shailene, clutching the necklace box, her eyes red-rimmed and fixed on the floor. She had clearly been crying again. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a hint of confusion in his voice. Shailene’s tears started to fall before she could even speak. “Mr. Sterling,” she choked out, the picture of fragile innocence, “please, take this back. I can’t accept it.” A flicker of annoyance crossed Alexander’s stern face. His gut told him something had happened, but he didn’t press. He simply waited, his gaze fixed on her. Finally, biting her lip, Shailene told him everything that had transpired in the office that day. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Sterling. I seem to always be causing trouble for you,” she whispered between sobs. “I just posted that to encourage myself. I don’t know how Mrs. Sterling even saw it… I never thought she would get so angry.” She looked like a terrified rabbit. “Mr. Sterling, I want to apologize to her. I can explain everything to her face-to-face.” Alexander never looked at social media. His time was consumed by work. But as the CEO of a massive corporation, he was all too familiar with the vicious undercurrents of office politics. His expression grew colder. “I understand,” he said, his voice a low rumble. 6 That evening, Alexander brought Shailene home. She trailed behind him, timid and quiet, as they entered our living room. “I asked Shailene to come so she could clear the air with you directly,” Alexander said with a sigh. “Ava, she is just my secretary. I gave her the necklace as an apology for what happened yesterday. That’s all it was.” I stirred the last of the bird’s nest soup the housekeeper had prepared for me and took a final, deliberate sip. “Mrs. Sterling, I am so sorry,” Shailene said, bowing deeply. She was a master of the frail, vulnerable act. “It was the first time I’d ever received such an expensive gift, and I got carried away. If I did something to upset you, please, just tell me. I’ll fix it immediately!” I raised an eyebrow. “Shailene White, is it?” She darted a glance at Alexander, as if trying to draw courage from his presence, before giving a slow, hesitant nod. The sight of this girl, so determined to challenge me in my own home, was almost laughable. “I’m not your teacher, and I’m not your boss. It’s not my job to teach you how to behave,” I said coolly. “But I am Alexander Sterling’s wife. And I will not give a second chance to anyone who dares to blur the lines with my husband.” She looked stunned, as if no one had ever spoken to her so bluntly. The only expression left on her face was one of pure, helpless fragility. “Ava,” Alexander interjected, his voice tight. “Shailene is here to apologize.” He knew me. He knew my temperament and my methods. Even if he didn’t approve of what I’d done today, he understood why I’d done it. By bringing her here, he was making a concession, trying to get me to let it go. We were both intelligent people; we could read each other with a single look. “Fine,” I said, deciding to give him this one chance. After all, he hadn’t actually cheated. “But it won’t happen again. Not with her, not with anyone.” 7 “You didn’t have to resort to those kinds of tactics against a young girl,” Alexander said later that night as we prepared for bed. “You should have come to me first.” I sat at my vanity, brushing my hair, my eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror. He was so devastatingly handsome. “You knew I wanted that necklace, Alexander. Yet you gave it to another woman. Don’t I have a right to be angry?” I couldn’t imagine it—if this perfect man were ever truly tarnished, could I still love him the way I did now? He walked to the bar and poured himself a glass of ice water, his movements calm and deliberate. “She cried all night because of your misunderstanding. Her eyes were so swollen this morning, I gave her the necklace as an apology. It was an impulse.” His story was flawless. I studied his reflection for a long, silent moment. Two hundred thousand dollars was nothing to us. Giving it away on a whim was plausible. It all depended on who was on the receiving end. His fingers tapped against the marble countertop. He was waiting for me. This was the first time we’d ever had a real conflict over a third person, and the entire situation felt exhausting, an affront to the cultivated decorum we both valued. We were people who prized our dignity above all else. “Alexander,” I said softly. “I love you.” His tapping stopped. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. “I love the man you are—the one who is spotless, who is different from everyone else. You never let other women get close because you value emotional fidelity, because you wanted a clean marriage. I wasn’t always like that, but you changed me. We want the same thing now. I hope our marriage never reaches a crossroads.” A weary sigh escaped him. “It hasn’t.” 8 Alexander is an intelligent man. He knew he had crossed a line, and I trusted him not to give Shailene any more false hope. Without the CEO’s favor, Shailene, as an intern, was relegated to the most basic tasks. Before, she had occasionally been given shifts at the main reception desk. Now, Hannah simply left her off the schedule entirely. I never told anyone to ostracize her. Since Alexander had his boundaries, I trusted him to handle it. But in a place like Sterling Corp, you don’t need direct orders for the wolves to start circling. The sycophants and ladder-climbers did the work for me. Within two weeks, the new secretary couldn’t handle the drastic fall from grace and the psychological toll. She lost weight, her bright-eyed optimism dimming into a perpetual state of anxiety. The breaking point came after a high-level board meeting. Shailene had been assigned to clean the small conference room by herself. Alexander, having forgotten a file, walked back in to find her on her knees in her pencil skirt, painstakingly scraping a piece of gum off the plush carpet with a small blade. She sensed his presence and scrambled to her feet, mortified. Alexander’s gaze was deep and cold. He just stood there, his silence stripping away the last of her pride. “Mr. Sterling,” she whispered, tears beginning to fall. These weren’t crocodile tears. There was no performance. Alexander was the sun she admired from afar, a star she could never touch. Just as she was beginning to accept her fate on the fringes, he had to see her like this—at her absolute lowest. She wanted nothing more than to push past him and run. In just two weeks, the cheerful, vibrant girl he had first met had become this fragile, broken thing. That night was the first time Alexander ever truly lost his temper with me. He came home in a fury. The glass of water I offered him, he didn’t drop it. He threw it. It shattered on the marble floor at my feet. “Why can’t you just leave her alone?” he roared, his voice shaking with a rage I had never seen before. “Ava, I respect you, I love you, and I have tolerated your cruelty and your insults towards her time and again. But what sick thrill do you get from tormenting someone weaker than you?” Suddenly, I remembered. During his time at Yale, Alexander’s younger sister, who was in middle school, had taken her own life after relentless bullying. It was a scar on his soul, a wound that never healed. He despised bullies with a passion that bordered on obsession. “Ava, don’t let me see you use these tactics to hurt someone ever again,” he warned, his voice dangerously low. “Because next time, I won’t just stand by and watch.” I stared at the man before me, a stranger whose face was contorted with an emotion I couldn’t recognize. For the first time in our marriage, Alexander had lost his reason—all for another woman, and for something I hadn’t even done. The feeling was sickening. It felt like the shattering of glass. Like a fine crack spidering across a perfect mirror. Something that could never be undone.

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To deal with my father, I decided to buy myself a girlfriend. Just as I was about to hand her the one-million-dollar check, the shy, timid girl in front of me suddenly became cold and haughty. A live-chat feed flickered into existence before my eyes, comments scrolling frantically. [The heroine is reborn! This time, she has to hold on tight to the male lead!] [Get lost, you nouveau riche side character! The heroine and her childhood sweetheart are the true OTP.] [She only got with the side character because she desperately needed money. Missing out on her first love was the biggest regret of her life.] I blinked, looking up from the ghostly text. I saw Crystal Nam’s cold, arrogant expression instantly melt into tenderness the moment she laid eyes on her childhood sweetheart. Well, what do you know. The heroine has been reborn. Reborn into a life of crushing debt and poverty. … “Shawn Jennings, don’t you dare think you can insult me with your dirty money! I’ll figure out my mother’s medical bills myself!” Crystal slapped the check out of my hand. She then walked straight past me and threw herself into Leo Miller’s arms. “Leo, I finally see what’s in my heart. I love you. I’ve always loved you.” She clutched his sleeve, her eyes shimmering with tears, as if they had just survived a life-and-death parting. A murmur went through the surrounding crowd. The comment feed before my eyes scrolled even faster. [Go, girl! So brave, confessing to the male lead right after being reborn!] [His ears are turning red! Their failure to get together in the last life was his regret, too.] [LOL, look at the side character’s face. Last time, she only put up with him to save her mom. Now that she’s chosen true love, he must be completely stunned. Serves him right.] I was a bit stunned, but not because of Crystal. It was because this comment feed was apparently predicting my entire life. According to them, I was the supporting male character in a novel. A vicious, rich second-generation heir who used money to buy ten years of the heroine’s youth. And now, Crystal was reborn. In her previous life, I had sponsored her to fend off an arranged marriage my family was pushing, but I ended up falling for her over time. She, in turn, endured a humiliating decade with me to pay for her mother’s treatment, all while burying her unspoken love for the boy next door. She blamed me for destroying her true love, and she despised my arrogant, demanding personality. She always felt subservient and without dignity in our relationship. Yet, she had also grown accustomed to a life of luxury and was unwilling to lose me, her personal cash cow. Two years after graduation, news of Leo Miller’s marriage sent her into a spiral. She got blackout drunk and accidentally drowned in our swimming pool. Now, reborn, the first thing she did was seize the love she’d missed, publicly confessing to Leo to fix her past regrets. I almost laughed out loud at the accusations on the feed. If the last life was really as they said—she took my money, used my connections to start her own company and become a CEO—then what was wrong with expecting her to be a little gentle and considerate to me, her benefactor? Cooking a meal now and then, saying a few sweet things… was that too much to ask? Wasn’t that part of the deal? Did she expect to spend my money while I worshipped the ground she walked on? Forget it. I’m done being the sucker. With a cold smirk, I tossed the check to a girl who was watching the drama unfold nearby. “Who told you I was going to pay for your mom’s treatment?” I drawled. “I meant it for her.” I turned to the new girl. “Hey, beautiful. Interested in a relationship? The kind that comes with a million-dollar monthly allowance.” [What’s happening? Why did he give the check to someone else? Isn’t he in love with the heroine?] [Don’t panic. It’s just a trick to make her jealous. No way he likes someone else. We all saw how he simped for her in the last life.] [Relax, the heroine won’t fall for it. Just wait for him to get shot down.] Crystal’s expression froze, a flicker of disbelief and confusion in her eyes. She clearly hadn’t expected me to choose someone else. But with her beloved right in front of her, and the thrill of rebirth overwhelming her, she didn’t have time to dwell on it. She eagerly turned back to Leo, and they began their heartfelt reunion. Meanwhile, I took my new acquaintance, Stella, out for a meal. In my past life, I had no idea what I ever saw in Crystal. It was just a way to avoid an arranged marriage; anyone would have done. I had more than enough money. My family owned three gold mines, for God’s sake. I was the sole heir to the city’s wealthiest man. I’d never had to put up with anything I didn’t want in my entire life. Why would I hang myself up on one crooked tree? If love was something that grew over time, then I’d just stop putting in the time. Problem solved. At the restaurant, I took a good look at the girl across from me. Stella Lowe was, in every way, just as stunning as Crystal. An elegant face, almond-shaped eyes, and skin as smooth as polished jade. My mood lifted instantly. I tossed the menu to the waiter. “Bring us one of everything that’s expensive and well-reviewed.” Just as I said that, the restaurant door opened. In walked the reborn Crystal, hand-in-hand with her precious childhood sweetheart. The moment she saw me, her brow furrowed, her expression a mixture of annoyance and contempt. She clearly assumed I was here waiting to ambush her. “Like gum on my shoe, I just can’t get rid of him,” she complained, loud enough for me to hear. I scoffed but didn’t bother to reply. This was the best restaurant in the area; even the appetizers cost a hundred bucks. It was perfectly normal for me to be here. Crystal, on the other hand, probably didn’t have two hundred dollars to her name, and Leo was just a regular student. I was very interested to see how they planned to pay their bill. Crystal sat down and casually ordered seven or eight of the signature dishes. Then she looked at Leo with a deeply affectionate gaze. “Leo, the food here is just okay. You’ll have to make do for now. Next time, I’ll take you to France to taste the freshest foie gras with the finest wine. And after this, we’ll go to a luxury boutique and get you a few custom watches. A man’s watch is his reputation, after all.” Leo was dizzy from the sudden windfall of promises, his voice booming with excitement. “Crystal, it’s only our first day as a couple. Isn’t this a bit much?” “It’s nothing,” she said, shooting a haughty glance in my direction. “Someone else will be happy to foot the bill.” Leo’s face flushed with excitement. “Crystal, I… I got a gift for you, too.” He secretively pulled out a red plastic bag. Crystal’s eyes lit up. The comment feed was screaming. [AAAAAHHH, they just got together and he’s already giving her the family heirloom? This is too sweet!!] [What is it? A jade bracelet? An emerald? Last life, Shawn’s ‘heirloom’ gift was that Pigeon’s Blood ruby necklace from a European royal family, worth over a billion.] [He may not be as rich as the side character now, but they have love! She’ll love whatever he gives her.] The red plastic bag was festive and unassuming, but heavy in his hands. Crystal opened it with great anticipation. Inside was a heart-shaped rock. Leo blushed. “I found this by the river where we used to play as kids. It’s the only heart-shaped one. I took it home and cleaned it, wanting to give it to you the day I confessed. Do you like it, Crystal?” The comment feed went silent. I had to dig my nails into my thigh to keep from laughing out loud. For a college freshman, a heart-shaped rock is a sweet, innocent gesture. But Crystal had the soul of a nearly thirty-year-old woman trapped in an eighteen-year-old’s body. For the past decade, she had lived in luxury. The clothes she wore, the cars she drove—a single accessory on her purse was worth a normal person’s annual salary. Even the pool she’d drowned in just hours ago was temperature-controlled. For hands accustomed to silk and cashmere to now touch a river rock… the contrast was jarring. At that moment, I slid a delicate diamond bracelet across the table to Stella. “I picked this up at a jewelry store this morning. A little something for our first date. Do you like it?”

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I was handing out flyers under the scorching sun when the gleaming Maybach pulled up. Vivian got out with her childhood sweetheart, looked at me sweating buckets inside a mascot costume, and said, “You’ve helped me a lot these past two years. Name your price. I’ll compensate you for everything.” Drawing the line. Clean and final. I had just opened my mouth when her companion cut me off with a sneer. “Don’t say something stupid, like you want to be her boyfriend. Take a look in the mirror. You’re not even in the same league.” I watched Vivian’s fingers intertwine with his. The words I was about to say died in my throat. I changed my tune. “Fifty thousand dollars,” I said. “A one-time payment will be fine.” The polite smile on Vivian’s face froze. She stared at me, her eyes wide with disbelief. 1 When Vivian’s family went bankrupt, I swooped in and became her boyfriend. I worked four jobs to support her for two whole years. I gave her everything I had, letting her take whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. The day her family’s assets were unfrozen, I was still sweating in this ridiculous costume, trying to save up for her tuition. She was always an ice queen, never letting her emotions show. This was the first time I’d ever seen her look genuinely annoyed. Was fifty thousand too little? An insult to an Upper East Side princess like her? Or was it too much? After all, it had only cost me around ten thousand to support her. But that ten thousand was every penny I had, earned from shaking bubble tea, handing out flyers, and washing dishes day and night. It was everything I could possibly give her. But Vivian was Vivian. In the moment I was lost in thought, she had already regained her composure. Through the mesh eyes of the mascot head, her cold gaze seemed to bore right through me. Sweat trickled into my eyes, stinging fiercely and making them ache. “Fifty thousand? You’ve got some nerve…” Caleb, the guy beside her, scoffed. “Everyone said you were an idiot. Funny how you get smart the second money is on the table, huh?” Everyone? That could only mean Vivian. She always thought I was slow. “Idiot” and “moron” were her favorite nicknames for me. It wasn’t my fault. A high fever when I was a kid left me a step behind everyone else. It didn’t affect my daily life, but my brain just didn’t work as fast as these finance whiz kids from NYU. Case in point: right now, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say back. Vivian raised a hand. Her driver immediately pulled a briefcase from the trunk. She took it and practically threw it at me. It hit my chest with a dull thud. “Eighty thousand. Is that enough?” So, she had it ready the whole time. Eighty thousand. I guess I was worth more than I thought. I nodded. “It’s enough.” Vivian seemed taken aback. Her voice softened, just a fraction. “Is there nothing else you want? Just say it. Maybe I’ll…” “No, there’s nothing else,” I cut her off, my voice barely a whisper. There was, of course. What I had wanted to say was, I want you to stay with me forever. But that thought evaporated the moment I saw her holding Caleb’s hand. In two years, she had never once held my hand, unless I grabbed hers in a desperate, clingy move. She wouldn’t even offer me a hand when I tripped over a loose paving stone on the sidewalk. You can be slow, but you have to know when you’re not wanted. It was the same feeling I had after my parents died in an accident. Standing there, watching my relatives argue over who would be stuck with me, I made the choice for them. I walked myself to the orphanage. This time, I was choosing to let go again. Vivian’s lips tightened into a thin, red line. A cold laugh escaped her. “Fine. You’re really something else, Miles.” “You really are an idiot.” So, at the very end, all she had left for me was an insult. She turned and left with Caleb, the hot exhaust from the Maybach washing over me. I pulled off the heavy mascot head and scrubbed my face hard. My hand came away sticky. I couldn’t tell if it was sweat or tears. Suddenly, I remembered a sweltering afternoon two years ago, after a summer storm. I found her collapsed on the side of the road, sick and soaked. She looked so helpless, so lost. She looked just like me as a kid. 2 Back then, her father and stepmother had fled the country, leaving her behind with all their family assets frozen. The once-celebrated debutante had fallen from grace. Friends ghosted her, Caleb wouldn’t even open his door, and whispers followed her everywhere she went. And there I was, a guy who could barely support himself, taking her home. “Vivian,” I had said. “Let me take care of you.” She was sitting on the floor of my tiny apartment, crying until her face was a mess, like a broken doll. Her usually beautiful voice was rough and hoarse. “You know me?” “Yeah. I work at the boba shop on your campus.” She gave me a disdainful look, probably thinking I was just another admirer trying to take advantage of her situation. To be fair, that’s exactly what I did. She hadn’t eaten in three days and had spent an entire night in the rain outside Caleb’s brownstone. She was so weak a gust of wind could have knocked her over. I grew up working, so I was strong. I basically kept her under house arrest in my rented room for two weeks, not letting her leave. I even tested the water temperature before handing her a glass. And after that… Vivian just stayed. A princess who’d never known a day of hardship had no idea how to survive. She depended entirely on me—delivering packages in the morning, washing dishes at noon, making bubble tea in the afternoon, and running food orders at night. Sometimes, a flicker of pity would cross her face. “Why are you so good to me? You’re just making your own life harder.” But most of the time, she just ignored it. She didn’t know that in my twenty years of life, the only people who had ever really been there for me were my parents. They loved me, and they were good to me, with no strings attached. So when I was with Vivian, it only felt natural to be good to her, too. … “Miles, go get the shipment! Why are you spacing out again? That’s the third time today.” The voice of the boba shop manager pulled me from my memories. “Right, sorry!” I said, rushing outside. The delivery van was parked at the curb. I grunted as I hoisted two heavy boxes of milk onto my shoulder. As I turned, I saw her. Vivian. Caleb was with her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. “Let’s try that new place tonight,” he was saying. “My friend said it’s pretty good. It’s only like, two hundred a person, so it probably won’t be as good as that place we went to in Paris, but still.” Vivian clearly saw me too. She paused for a fraction of a second. But just as quickly, she looked away and replied to Caleb in a soft voice. “Okay.” I guess it must have been hard for the girl who dines on exquisite French cuisine to eat my egg fried rice for two years. She always cleaned her plate, though. “Whoa, is that idiot working here?” Caleb looked me up and down, then glanced at the shop’s sign. “A cheap boba place… hahaha, I didn’t even know they had shops like this on campus.” “I heard they sell drinks for like, four bucks. That’s terrifying. Aren’t you afraid of getting poisoned?” I stared at Vivian and shot back at him, “Of course not!” Vivian used to drink it too. When I brought it to her, she’d complain about how cheap it was, but she always drank every last drop. The memory seemed to hit her too. She looked away, embarrassed, and quickly pulled Caleb along. Back inside, the manager asked curiously, “Wasn’t that your girlfriend? Why was she with another guy?” On campus, Vivian always avoided me. No one knew about us. But last month, during a huge downpour, under the dim glow of a streetlight, she had waited for me after my shift, holding an umbrella. The manager had seen her. “You’re a lucky guy,” he’d teased. “Your girlfriend is gorgeous.” It was the first time in my life anyone had ever called me lucky. I was so happy I felt like I was floating. I ran through the rain toward her, but as I reached her, she just shoved the umbrella into my arms and turned to leave. “Can’t you check the weather forecast, you idiot?” But I was still happy. She had come to bring me an umbrella. Even if we didn’t share it, even if we always kept that careful distance between us. Back then, I naively thought it meant she might actually like me, just a little bit. Seeing my blank stare, the manager didn’t press. He just sighed, looking at the delivery boxes. “Another month in the red. I really don’t think I can keep this place open much longer.” In a city like New York, where every square foot is gold, maybe drinking a four-dollar lemonade really was a crime. Business had been terrible lately. I set down the boxes, looked my boss straight in the eye, and said with a new resolve, “That offer you mentioned before—to sell the shop for fifty thousand. Is it still on the table?” 3 The number I’d asked Vivian for wasn’t random. I wanted to buy this shop. As for whether it would lose money… I hadn’t thought that far ahead. I just figured that in a world with so many people, if some could afford a $200 meal, then others could only afford a $4 lemonade. The owner happily agreed. On the day the shop officially became mine, Vivian made a special trip just to mock me. “Are you completely brainless? Your costs for rent, supplies, and labor will be more than you make! This shop will go bankrupt in three months!” I just kept my head down, focused on wiping a table. “Oh. That’s okay.” My nonchalance seemed to choke her. She was about to say something else when her phone rang. I recognized the voice on the other end. It was Caleb. She shot me a cold glare, answered the phone, and hurried away. I’ll admit, it stung a little. It seemed Vivian had forgotten what she’d said a long time ago. I had come home from my restaurant job, exhausted and complaining about a difficult customer, barely able to move. Our conversations were usually me rambling and her making sarcastic comments. But that day, she stared at the burn mark on the back of my hand for a long, long time. Finally, she said, “Then I’ll make you a boss someday. That way, you can just tell other people what to do. It won’t be so tiring.” It was the first time I ever considered that my life could be something other than just working for other people. But Vivian’s mockery had reminded me of something important. I needed to hire someone. How could I be a boss without any employees? I grabbed a piece of cardboard and scrawled “Help Wanted” on it with a black marker. I was chewing on a piece of tape, about to stick the sign to the door, when a pair of long, slender hands took it from me. I turned. A slim girl stood there. She pointed at the sign. “Are you hiring? I’m a student here.” She wore a mask and a neat ponytail. Her gray t-shirt was faded from washing, but she looked clean and tidy. And just like that, for $15 an hour, I hired Nina. I was officially a boss. Three days in, business was still dead. Nina had nothing to do, so she sat at the counter, reading books with titles I couldn’t even pronounce. After what felt like the hundredth sigh from me, she finally closed her book. “Let’s sell at the basketball court,” she suggested. “We can keep the drinks in coolers with ice packs. They’ll be more refreshing than water.” My eyes lit up. “Let’s make twenty cups. Let’s go!” The university was in the middle of a basketball tournament, and the stands were packed. The two of us hauled a pair of styrofoam coolers toward the gym. The air was thick with heat, so hot it felt like you were suffocating with every breath, yet every seat was taken. Caleb was a star on the court, weaving past defenders and sinking a three-pointer that sent the girls in the crowd into a frenzy. And right at the front, holding court, was Vivian. She was surrounded by a small entourage—one person holding an umbrella over her, another a portable fan, a third offering a cold drink. I guess when you have money, the whole world rushes to kiss your feet. She was no longer the lonely, forgotten girl who only had me. Nina walked ahead of me, guiding me through the crowd to the front. “The half is about to end,” she whispered. “You go try to sell to the players first. They’re the hottest and thirstiest. Once they start buying, the crowd will follow.” I nodded, then it hit me. “Wait, who’s the boss here? You or me? No way, you go.” “Fine. You sell to the guys, I’ll sell to the girls. Deal?” “…Deal.” When the halftime buzzer sounded, I walked over to the players’ rest area and locked eyes with Vivian. We both looked away at the exact same time. She didn’t want anyone to know her embarrassing past. And I didn’t want her business. But Caleb wouldn’t let it go. As he came off the court, he slammed his shoulder hard into mine. I didn’t have time to react. The cooler crashed to the ground, lemonade splashing everywhere. 4 “Shit! You got my shoes dirty!” Caleb jumped back, staring in disgust at the splash on his expensive basketball shoes. “These are eight hundred dollars!” he snarled. “That’s more than your life is worth, you get me?” His shout drew the attention of the entire crowd. Vivian walked over. She didn’t even glance at me. Her eyes were fixed on Caleb, full of concern. “What’s wrong?” “This idiot was shoving his way through with that huge box and crashed right into me.” Only then did Vivian’s gaze fall on me. It was cold, and laced with blame. Her voice was just as icy. “Is this really the place for you to be running a business?” I might be slow with words, but I couldn’t stand being falsely accused. “He’s the one who crashed into me. He should apologize, and he should pay for the drinks.” I was certain Vivian had seen the whole thing. But even if she did, she still blamed me first. I’ve been pushed around my whole life, but it was always by people I didn’t care about. This was the first time it actually hurt. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Apologize.” She stared at the corners of my eyes, which were starting to turn red, and for a second, she looked stunned. After Vivian came into my life, I was so happy all the time that I felt like nothing was too hard, nothing was worth crying over. Not difficult customers, not exhaustion. I was always smiling. Not even on the day we broke up did she see me with red eyes. Now, she actually looked a little flustered. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, but Caleb cut her off. He jutted out his chin, his face a mask of contempt. “Are you actually stupid? Even if I did it on purpose, there’s no way in hell I’d ever apologize to you.” Vivian, who always loved to lecture me about principles, now only seemed to care about his. After a moment’s hesitation, she stuffed a few bills into my hand. “He’s always been arrogant like this. He’s not going to apologize. Take this as compensation.” It was a lot of money. Enough for two weeks of our food budget back in the day. I stared at the mess on the ground, at a complete loss for words. Nina came over. She bent down, picked up the empty cooler, and said to me, “Let’s go. We need to get the drinks ready for the second half.” She took a small step forward, her slender body trying to shield me from the mocking stares of the crowd. I was really down that day. I felt like a plant that had wilted in the sun, my head hanging low the whole way back. It wasn’t until Nina said, “I sold all of mine,” that I finally looked up, a new spark of energy igniting within me. But since I was soaked, Nina wouldn’t let me go back for the second half. She ran back and forth with the cooler by herself, trip after trip. And every time, she sold out. Not only that, but more and more guys started coming to the shop. They would steal glances at Nina, nudging each other, clearly wanting to ask for her number. It was only then, when she took off her mask, that I realized how beautiful she was. 5 A month passed before Vivian came to find me again. She walked into the shop hesitantly. “That egg fried rice you make,” she started, “how do you do it?” During our poorest days, every cent we saved was for her next year’s tuition. We ate egg fried rice for a month straight. It was cheap and filling. I always copied my mom, who used to hide the best pieces of meat at the bottom of my noodle bowl. I’d scoop my portion out first, then crack two more eggs into the pan just for Vivian. Now that she was back to eating gourmet food from all over the world, it seemed she was craving that simple taste again. “My family hired three different chefs, and none of them can get that flavor right. Could you just make it for me one more time…?” “Boss,” Nina interrupted. “I think there’s a problem with yesterday’s accounts.” I left Vivian standing there and went straight to the register. I looked over the numbers several times but couldn’t find anything wrong. Nina was patient. “Look closer. The number of boxes of cups doesn’t match the supplier’s invoice. I’m worried they shorted us.” “Ah, I think I forgot to count yesterday. I’m so stupid.” A box of cups wasn’t cheap. I sighed, annoyed with myself. But Nina just smiled. “Everyone makes mistakes. It’s not a big deal. I’ll check the security footage and give the supplier a call.” I nodded gratefully. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Vivian watching us, her expression unreadable. The second month, the shop finally turned a profit. It was all thanks to Nina. Not only did her looks draw in customers, but she also developed a little delivery app for campus, and I would run the orders to the different dorms. I was genuinely thankful. I patted her on her thin back and said, “I’m adding an extra five hundred to your salary this month!” She was in the middle of eating the egg fried rice I’d brought her. My sudden action seemed to startle her, and she choked, turning her head to cough quietly. The tips of her ears turned bright red. “Do you need some water?” She shook her head. “I get free meals from you every day. Just pay me the hourly rate we agreed on.” The shop had gotten so busy, especially around mealtimes, that I had started making simple egg fried rice every day and bringing a portion for her too. After a month, she’d gained a little weight. Her once-gaunt frame filled out nicely, and she had more color in her cheeks. As a result, even more guys came to see her, some even from other universities. Since she refused the bonus, I didn’t press. But looking at her two rotating t-shirts and her worn-out canvas shoes, I got an idea. On my day off, I went to the mall. I bought two dresses from the clearance rack and a pair of discounted shoes. It cost me nearly two hundred dollars. I was heading down the escalator, bags in hand, when I ran into Vivian and Caleb. She was carrying several designer shopping bags, listening to Caleb with a gentle expression. “This mall is so trashy,” he was saying. “Not a single store here is good enough for you.” “Hey, what are you doing here?” he said, spotting me. “Don’t tell me your little shop is going bankrupt already and you’re back to working odd jobs.” I held up my bags. “It’s none of your business. Can’t I just be shopping?” The color drained from Vivian’s face. She stared at the bags in my hand. “Who are those for?” “Also none of your business,” I retorted. Vivian recognized the brand. It wasn’t cheap for us a year ago. For her birthday, I had carefully picked out their newest jacket, which cost me a small fortune. But when I presented it to her, she didn’t even give it a second glance. “You try so hard, but I’m just not impressed.” Maybe I was just slow by nature, or maybe I was just used to being ignored. My expectations for emotional validation were incredibly low. But that day, not even getting a simple “thank you” had hurt more than I expected. Vivian shook off Caleb’s arm and stormed over to me, grabbing my sleeve. “Don’t you dare tell me you bought those for that broke part-timer.”

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It took me ten years to single-handedly transform a broke, struggling actor into the new golden boy of Hollywood. Everyone assumed I was on the verge of becoming the glamorous wife of an A-list star. What they didn’t know was that just as I finished paving his path to the stars, he was already taking someone else’s hand. At his birthday dinner, in front of everyone, I broke up with him. He thought I was just throwing a tantrum. But he had no idea. I didn’t just want to break up with him. I wanted to ruin him. Jeffrey Cabrera, if I could build you a throne, I can certainly bring you crashing down from Olympus. Your reign as Hollywood’s king is over. 1 “Let’s break up.” Across the candlelit table, I looked at the handsome man opposite me and spoke with a calm I didn’t feel. Jeffrey froze, then a weary, almost patronizing smile touched his lips. “What is it now, Kathryn?” “Is it because I didn’t wear the dress you picked out for me?” He sighed, his voice laced with the exhaustion of someone trying to placate a difficult child. “Kathryn, don’t do this. I’m exhausted from the shoot.” “I’m not doing anything.” I bit the inside of my cheek, a sharp little sting of pain. He saw me wince and trailed off. Leaning back in his chair, he grabbed a napkin and took a deep breath. “Didn’t you bring this up just two weeks ago?” he said, his voice turning cold. “I haven’t cheated on you. I haven’t been ignoring you. What, exactly, have I done wrong?” He let out a short, bitter laugh. “Fine. Just don’t come crying back to me.” “I’m done.” I had no energy left for this pointless dance. I stood, the legs of my chair screeching against the polished floor. As I turned, I spotted a furtive figure lurking nearby. It was Sarah—Jeffrey’s new assistant, a girl we knew from our old acting school. She glanced at me, gave a bland, barely-there nod as if I were a stranger, then immediately turned to Jeffrey, her expression melting into a mask of fragile distress. “Jeffrey,” she began, her voice a delicate whisper, “Catherine sent another script, and I just don’t know what to do. Could you possibly take a look for me…?” But Jeffrey’s eyes were locked on me, blazing past her. The old me would have erupted. What script was so damn important it couldn’t wait for us to finish one dinner? But I was just so tired. I started to walk away, but Sarah’s hand shot out, grabbing my wrist. “Oh, Kathryn, don’t go!” she cried, as if just realizing her timing was terrible. “I didn’t mean to interrupt! I’m just so new to all this, I’m always asking Jeffrey for help. Please don’t be mad at him because of me, he’s had such a long day on set…” That was it. I snapped. I ripped my arm from her grasp. “Are you new to being an assistant, or new to being a person? I booked this dinner three days ago. You’re telling me you didn’t know?” “You’re so new to the job that when you felt sick at one in the morning, you didn’t call 911, you called him?” “You’re so new that you don’t understand you have no place in his private life?” “Sarah,” I spat, my voice low and shaking, “are you pathologically helpless, bored out of your mind, or are you just shamelessly using the fact that we went to the same school to be this goddamn pathetic?” Sarah stood there, mouth agape, her eyes instantly welling up with tears that shimmered in the dim light. She cast a wounded look at Jeffrey and lowered her head. “Kathryn, that’s enough!” Jeffrey strode over, pulling Sarah behind him as if shielding her from an attack. He glared at me, his brow furrowed. “You went too far. She’ll know for next time, won’t she?” Next time? There would be no next time. Sarah’s tears began to fall, silent but for the choked little sobs that were somehow louder than a scream. A born actress. A laugh escaped my lips. Such a classic damsel-in-distress act, and Jeffrey, the award-winning actor, couldn’t see through it. Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want to. I shook my head and walked out the door. 2 When I slapped my resignation letter on Catherine’s desk, she blinked in surprise. Catherine was the agency’s star-maker, our boss. “Setting aside your relationship with Jeffrey for a moment, I genuinely admire your talent,” she said, her pen hovering over the paper. “You know you have offers from other agencies, right? If this is just about him, I can move you to another client’s team.” A flicker of something warm stirred in my chest. All these years, my passion hadn’t just been love; it had become a profession others respected. “I’m not signing this yet,” Catherine said, noticing my hesitation. “Take a month off. Paid. Come back and give me your answer then.” I went home and collapsed into bed, sleeping until the following evening. When I woke, I mindlessly scrolled through Instagram. The first post was from Sarah. “First time at a big gala and I had no idea what to wear! So lucky to have you pick everything out for me. The view from up here is dazzling. I hope I can keep up with you.” The photo was a solo shot of her in a stunning gown. But in the background, artfully blurred, stood a familiar, impeccably dressed figure. The black tuxedo I had personally tailored for Jeffrey yesterday was now serving as the backdrop for her moment in the spotlight. My phone buzzed. A message from Jeffrey. “I wore it. Happy now?” Attached was a selfie of him in the tux. It had been nearly twenty-four hours, and he still thought my anger was about a goddamn suit. I opened the folders on my laptop, the digital archive of his entire career that I had built from scratch. Every retouched photo, every witty caption, every strategically timed post—all born from countless sleepless nights of my own. For years, his public persona had never strayed an inch from the script I wrote. But his life… his life had long since gone off-script. I deleted his contact, then wiped every backup, every file, every trace of him from my digital life. The next day, I drove to my grandmother’s house. “Good heavens, you’re skin and bones!” she exclaimed, her warm, wrinkled hand cupping my face. “Aren’t you supposed to be making a fortune? Why does it look like they’ve stopped feeding you?” “And where’s Jeffrey? How come that boy didn’t come with you? He’s looking all slick and well-fed on TV while you waste away?” she grumbled, gesturing at the television where his new drama was playing. I didn’t have the energy to explain that the camera adds ten pounds, or that he had a whole new person to dote on him now. I just buried my face in her familiar, comforting embrace. “Grandma,” I mumbled into her shoulder, “I’m starving. Can you make me your famous tomato soup and grilled cheese?” After I’d scraped the bowl clean, I finally found the courage. “Grandma, I quit my job. You’re going to have to support me.” She was clearing the table. “I’d be thrilled, but I’m afraid you’ll get restless,” she said without turning around. “Besides, how long can you stay away from that boy? You’re just like your mother, a hopeless case.” I wrapped my arms around her from behind. “I’m not like her, Grandma. I know the difference between what’s important for Jeffrey, and what’s important for me.” “I want to get away for a while. Want to come with me?” Her body tensed for a moment, then she nudged me away. “Go on, get out of here. Wipe your mouth.” She didn’t say yes, but I knew from the slight curve of her lips that she was smiling. Just then, my phone buzzed with an alert from my apartment’s video doorbell. On the screen was Sarah’s cloyingly sweet face. “What is it? Work again?” Grandma waved a dismissive hand, used to my chaotic schedule. “Go on, then. Just call before you come next time so I can get groceries… oh, never mind. With your job, you can never plan ahead.” It hit me then how often I’d rushed in and out, always for Jeffrey, never making enough time for her. I walked a few steps toward the door, then glanced back. Just as I suspected, she was still standing in the kitchen doorway, watching me. When our eyes met, she quickly pretended to be tidying up. The people who truly love you, I realized, are the ones whose care is so quiet you might almost miss it. 3 I drove back to the studio I shared with Jeffrey. I didn’t see Sarah, so I called the police. At the station, Sarah was a mess of tears. “Kathryn, I didn’t mean any harm! Jeffrey said you had a backup of the file he needed, and you weren’t answering my texts…” “So your solution was to try and pry the door open?” “I… I was just in a panic…” “If I hadn’t changed the locks last week, you would have just let yourself in and made yourself at home, wouldn’t you?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. Her wails were about to escalate when the door to the mediation room flew open. Jeffrey had arrived. “Jeffrey!” Sarah shot to her feet as if a savior had appeared. “It wasn’t—I was afraid Kathryn would be mad, so I took matters into my own hands… I was really just trying to get the file for you!” Jeffrey was breathless, his chest heaving. That studio… we rented it when we were broke, sleeping on the floor some nights. After he made it big, he bought a mansion and I got my own apartment, but I always preferred working there. It held all our memories, the evidence of every sacrifice I’d ever made. “What the hell is going on? Why are the police involved?” Jeffrey demanded, his sharp tone directed at me. Sarah bit her lip, holding back a fresh wave of tears, the very picture of martyrdom. “It’s all my fault. It has nothing to do with Kathryn.” Jeffrey’s personal assistant, who had come with him, was already smoothing things over with the officer. “It’s all a misunderstanding, officer. They all know each other. Sorry to have wasted your time.” The policewoman ignored him, her gaze fixed on me, waiting for my decision. Jeffrey dragged me out into the hallway. “Nothing was stolen,” he hissed, his voice low and furious. “Take your anger out on me if you have to, but why drag her into it? Do you have any idea what kind of story this will make if it gets out?” “Did you give her the code?” I asked. His face tightened. “She asked me for it…” “So you told her to go?” “Enough!” he snapped. “She’s my assistant. What’s the big deal about her grabbing a file? Are you actually going to press charges? How would you explain that to Catherine? The media would have a field day, and you’d be the one cleaning it up!” He still didn’t know. He had no idea I’d already quit. “Jeffrey, do you honestly see yourself as some kind of noble hero here? You think I’m doing this to get back at you?” I laughed, a bitter, hollow sound. “She trespassed in my workspace without my permission. And I’m the one in the wrong for calling the police?” “Jeffrey, it’s my fault…” Sarah sobbed from the doorway. “Kathryn, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for any damages, whatever you want. Please, can we just handle this privately? I’m begging you.” Her performance only fueled my rage. Jeffrey, however, had reached his limit. “Kathryn, don’t push it!” he shot back impatiently. “This studio is registered under my name!” With that, he went back inside and, with a few smooth words, resolved the entire situation. Of course. I had almost forgotten. The studio was his. I had just been a guest who had overstayed her welcome, deluding herself into thinking she belonged. “Let’s go. The car’s outside,” Jeffrey said, brushing past me. “No, thanks. It’s a little too crowded for me.” I walked away without a backward glance. Behind me, I could hear the whispers of onlookers. “Isn’t that Jeffrey Cabrera, the movie star?” “Which one is his girlfriend? I heard they’ve been together for years.” “Probably the one crying inside. The one walking away looks like she could kill someone.”

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The world spun into a blur. Then, nothing. During our aerial lift, my partner—my husband—should have been there. But his arms weren’t. I crashed. Just like that, my legs were gone. Paralyzed. Iain wept, swearing it was a clumsy mistake. He promised to care for me forever. Then he claimed our savings were drained and stopped my treatments—only to buy his first love a couture gown. I missed my treatment window. I’d be bedridden for life. As I grieved, I overheard him on the phone: “You dropped Vivian on purpose so Sienna could win.” After a silence, Iain replied, heavy with false guilt: “I wronged Viv, but I’ll be responsible. She lost her legs and dream, but she has my love.” My future stretched empty and dark. I found a blade and drew it across my wrist. As blood bloomed on the sheets, Iain leaned over, red-eyed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I take it all back.” 1 “Your eyes are red again, darling.” Iain’s voice, a gentle murmur as he hung up the phone, was as tender as ever. He walked over to my bedside, his brow furrowed with concern. “Is the pain acting up?” For a moment, I couldn’t tell which version of him was real. The man on the phone, or the one standing before me. “The dance company just called,” he said. “I have to head over for a bit.” The company? Wasn’t he just on the phone with his friend, mocking my entire existence? I stared at him, searching his eyes for the slightest flicker of deceit. He held my gaze for a second, then his own flickered away, just for an instant. His tell. He was lying. “They said they might be able to lend me some money,” he added, the lie growing smoother. “Enough to cover your treatment costs.” A bitter laugh almost escaped my lips. Just a few days ago, a nurse had come to the room, her expression apologetic, to inform me my bill was severely past due. That was why my physical therapy had stopped. That was why I wasn’t getting better. When I’d asked Iain, his face had crumpled with worry. “Treating your legs has wiped me out, Viv. But don’t worry. I’ll take out a loan if I have to. I’ll get it paid.” I waited. And waited. Until yesterday, when the doctor delivered the verdict with clinical finality: “You’ve missed the optimal window for recovery. It’s highly unlikely you’ll ever be able to stand again.” In that moment, I understood. My life was over. I was a bird with broken wings, destined for a cage. “Okay,” I whispered, turning my head away. “You should go.” I lay down, not clinging to him as I usually did, not begging him to stay. I waited until the door clicked shut, then I buried my face in my pillow and let the sobs wrack my body. I cried until exhaustion pulled me under, only to be jolted awake by the blare of the television news. It was her. Sienna. She’d just won another major Latin championship and was surrounded by a swarm of reporters, microphones thrust in her face. It was like looking at a ghost of my former self. Before the fall, I was the one who won every competition, the one bathed in the flash of cameras, the one showered with praise. “Sienna, congratulations on your victory! Who is the most important person you want to thank tonight?” a reporter asked. “My first love,” she answered, her voice sweet and breathless. “For always being there for me, for encouraging me. He even gave me this dress!” “That looks like a custom couture gown!” “Oh, that’s not important!” she said, blushing prettily. “What’s important is how good he is to me! Okay, okay, no more gossip!” She cast a playful, happy glance to the side. And in the corner of the frame, I saw it. A sliver of a pale blue shirt sleeve. The same shirt Iain was wearing today. My hand tightened on the bedsheet, knuckles white. It could be a coincidence. Just the same brand, the same style. It had to be. My fingers trembled as I dialed the number for the head of our dance company. With every ring, my heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic, painful rhythm. 2 The director confirmed it. Iain was there, right by Sienna’s side, celebrating her victory. I stared at the television, at the thousands of glittering diamonds sewn onto Sienna’s gown, a dress that shimmered with every triumphant breath she took. Then, I looked down and touched my own legs. Lifeless. Numb. So, it was all a lie. The tight finances, the desperate struggle to pay my medical bills. A sharp, painful breath hitched in my throat. I blinked back tears. “Director,” I said, my voice surprisingly steady, “could you send me the video of the competition? The one from the day I fell.” There was a stunned silence on the other end. I had refused to watch it, refused to even speak of it. The memory alone was enough to make me shatter. But now, I had to know. A wave of nausea washed over me as I fast-forwarded the clip, my finger hovering over the screen. There it was. The moment my world ended. I watched it in slow motion. My turn in the air was flawless, my form perfect. But on the ground, Iain faltered. Just for a split second. His body tensed, and the hands that were meant to catch me froze, hovering just inches from my body. Then, the impact. A sickening crunch as I hit the stage. The video captured his horrified gasp, the frantic way he scrambled to my side. To anyone watching, it looked like a tragic accident. No one would ever know, unless they heard the words from his own mouth, that he had let me fall. For Sienna, he had crippled me. He had destroyed my life. And he was the one who had ignited my dream in the first place. I met him in college, after a Latin competition where I’d bombed, again. I was ready to quit, to hang up my shoes for good. After my final, defeated dance, I heard a single, thunderous round of applause from the empty seats. It was Iain. Two young dreamers. One lost, the other a beacon of encouragement. He convinced me not to give up. I put my dance shoes back on. After graduation, we met again. But life is never that simple. Just as my career was taking off, my mother was diagnosed with a sudden, aggressive illness. The years of winning competitions had left me with a decent nest egg, but I was still short for the final, life-or-death surgery. The prize money from the next competition, just three days away, would cover it. But instead of a check, I was met with a brick wall. I was suddenly, inexplicably blacklisted from the industry. Even my closest friends wouldn’t help. After days of frantic calls, I found out why. Sienna, Iain’s ex-girlfriend, had pulled strings to shut me out. Time was running out. My mother was fading. I swallowed my pride, my dignity, everything I was, and knelt before Sienna. She didn’t demand I leave Iain, like some villain in a soap opera. She just gave me a long, cool look, a look that wordlessly communicated the vast, uncrossable chasm between our worlds. Satisfied by my humiliation, she made a call and my blacklisting was lifted. But it was too late. The competition was over. My mother had missed her chance. She was gone. I hated Sienna with a fire that consumed my soul. At night, I would clutch my mother’s old clothes and weep until I had nothing left. After Iain and I got together, I told him the story. He was silent for a long time. “Are you sure it wasn’t a misunderstanding?” he finally said. “Sienna can be a little spoiled, but she’s not a bad person. You shouldn’t be so prejudiced, so… jealous of her.” I stared at him, my blood running cold. He continued, his tone patient, as if explaining something to a child. “You two are from different worlds. Why would she target you for no reason? Maybe your performance just wasn’t up to par back then. Maybe you should stop blaming her. At the end of the day, it was your failure as a daughter that led to your mother’s death.” Iain was my rock, the person I trusted most in the world. Hearing him say it with such conviction shattered my already fragile confidence. I started to believe him. I started to believe it was all my fault. 3 I watched the video again and again, the fall replaying on a loop until the images were burned into my mind. I was still watching when Iain returned. He walked over, saw the screen, and a flicker of discomfort crossed his face. “Don’t watch that, Viv,” he said softly, his voice dripping with that practiced tenderness. “It’ll only upset you. It hurts me to see you sad.” I looked up at him, my heart a block of ice. “Hurts you? You planned the whole thing.” His gentle expression vanished, replaced by a wounded fury. His voice turned sharp. “What are you talking about? Vivian, I have done nothing but take care of you since your accident. And this is how you think of me?” He gestured wildly, his voice rising. “If it weren’t for me, your deadbeat, gambling-addicted father would have had you cremated before you were even cold! Do you forget that?” He was working himself into a frenzy, his performance utterly convincing. “How can you be so ungrateful?” “Wasn’t it for Sienna?” I asked, my voice as cold and dead as my legs. “I…” The blood drained from his face. The words caught in his throat. “It’s not what you think,” he finally managed to say, his voice a dry rasp. “I owed her,” he admitted after a long pause. “For leaving her back then.” My control snapped. “You owed her! What does that have to do with me? Why did my legs have to be the price for your guilt? I wasn’t the other woman!” “Calm down!” he snapped. “Look, if you think about it from another angle, it’s not all bad.” I stared at him, incredulous. “My debt to Sienna is paid,” he explained, a chillingly rational tone in his voice. “Now I can devote myself to you, completely. I’ll never have anything to do with her again. So, you can’t walk anymore. But you have all of me. Isn’t that enough?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Have you?” I shrieked, the sound tearing from my throat. “What good is having a pathetic bastard like you? I just want my body back! I want my legs!” After the accident, the physical ruin of my body had eroded every last bit of my spirit. I was no longer capable of loving anyone, least of all him. The warmth in Iain’s eyes vanished, replaced by a glacial cold. “It seems you haven’t quite grasped the reality of your situation,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “For the rest of your life, you will depend on my charity to survive.” I soon learned exactly what he meant. Later that day, I was thirsty. I tried to wheel myself to the small table where a glass of water sat, but the wheels of my chair caught on the edge of a thick rug. I was stuck. “You can stay right there and think,” Iain said, standing in the doorway, a smug look on his face. “Think about the proper attitude you should have towards me from now on.” He slammed the door, leaving me alone. My mouth was parched, my throat burning. The glass of water was so close, yet impossibly far. The thirst grew from a simple need into an agonizing, soul-scorching pain. Hours passed. Then came a new, more urgent torment. A pressure building in my bladder. The catheter needed changing. Iain always did it for me. I bit my lip, hard, and slammed my hands against the controls of the wheelchair. It jolted and rocked violently, then tipped, sending me spilling onto the floor. Pain shot through me, but I ignored it. I started crawling, dragging my useless legs towards the bathroom. I arched my back, trying desperately to hold on, but my body betrayed me. A warm flood soaked through my pants. I clenched my fists, pounding them against the cold floor. I wished I was dead. The humiliation of my own body’s betrayal was a thousand times worse than any verbal insult. It stripped away the last shred of my dignity. I lay there until the next morning, when the home-care aide arrived. She hauled me onto the bed, her movements rough and efficient. She pulled off my soiled pants without a word, then began wiping between my legs with a towel, her touch impersonal and rough. She flipped me over like a slab of meat. Looking at the mess on her hands, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “God, this stinks. Can’t even control your own piss and shit.” She sighed, her voice dripping with contempt. “If I were you, I’d just die. Honestly. You’re a waste of air and food.” I trembled with rage, my teeth chattering. “This is your job,” I managed to hiss. “My husband pays you well to…” Before I could finish, she shoved my own dirty pants into my mouth. The foul stench filled my nostrils, making my stomach heave. “Shut up!” she snarled. “You’re in this state and you still have the energy to complain? Mr. Collins just keeps you around out of pity. It’s like feeding a stray dog on the street.” She laughed, a cruel, short bark. “For a man like him, money is just a number. His time is what’s precious. And right now, his time is being spent on…” She trailed off with a smirk, but I knew what she meant. Just half an hour ago, Sienna’s dance company had posted a new set of photos online. In them, Iain and Sienna were on a vast stage, locked in a graceful embrace, dancing. Everyone’s eyes were on them. It was everything I had lost. Everything I could never have again. Why was my life, my love, so full of pain? I found the sharpest thing I could reach. As the blood pooled on the floor, a dark thought flickered through my mind. I wondered how Iain would react. Would he be sad? Devastated? Or maybe… just relieved to finally be free of his burden.

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I was scrolling through a forum late at night when a post caught my eye. [Giving away my girlfriend of 7 years, free of charge. Lightly used.] [5’5″, 104 lbs, D-cup. The devoted type. Your wish is her command.] [DM for her contact info.] The comment section was a dumpster fire, already a thousand replies deep. 【Dude, post pics or it didn’t happen.】 【Who cares what she looks like in the dark? With a body like that, I’m in. OP, check your DMs.】 【If she’s so great, why are you giving her away?】 The original poster replied. 【Too clingy. It’s annoying.】 My brow furrowed the more I read. I was about to close the tab when a notification pinged on my phone. A new friend request. [Hey. You’ve been given to me.] 1 It took less than a second for the pieces to click into place. Bernard had posted me online. A giveaway. Like an unwanted piece of furniture. The irony was laughable. A moment ago, I was feeling sorry for the poor woman whose boyfriend would write such a thing. Now, with a strange, chilling calm, I clicked on his profile. The account was new. His first post was in March. [No one in this world gets me.] In April, a new lament. [My art is as worthless as I am. There’s no hope for my life.] Then came May. I stared at the photo of a girl’s back, her silhouette against a sunlit window. [She has finally appeared.] [Jasmine understands me. She understands my art.] [We are kindred spirits. Soulmates.] [A meeting of minds, long overdue.] [The gardenias are in bloom.] He didn’t mention me until June. [I noticed a split end in C’s hair. It was disgusting. Like a smudge on a clean canvas, a misplaced brush, a torn piece of paper.] C. The first letter of my name. Chloe. [Vulgar.] By July, their romance was in full swing. [I wish I had met you from the start.] [I’ve painted you, my beautiful Jasmine.] I felt like a clown, a peeping Tom spying on my own life’s demolition. And then, August. [Giving away my girlfriend of 7 years, free of charge. Lightly used.] Click. The bedroom door opened. Bernard walked in, heading straight for the closet to pull out his favorite white suit. I had ironed it for him after I got home from work; not a single crease marred the fabric. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, a flicker of satisfaction. “You can go to bed,” he said coolly, on his way out. “Don’t wait up for me.” He didn’t even look at me. He hadn’t touched me in two months. The last time we’d been intimate, he had abruptly pulled away, his face a mask of disgust. “Are you feeling sick again?” I had asked, concerned. He gave a barely perceptible nod, his gaze sliding away from my body. Now I knew why. He must have seen that single, offensive split end. It was 11:30 PM. He left, dressed to the nines. I lay in bed, reading those thirteen posts over and over again. At one in the morning, I smashed the lock on his studio door. 2 I had given him half of our 1300-square-foot apartment for his studio. I didn’t even have a key. I flipped on the switch, and the room was flooded with the harsh glare of a fluorescent light. It was immaculate, spotless. Paintings were stacked neatly against the walls. I scanned them one by one, my eyes finally landing on the only framed piece in the room, tucked away in a corner. The ornate frame was a testament to how much he cherished it. The girl in the portrait was ethereal, her expression full of life and charm. How long does it take to create an oil painting so detailed you could see the pores on her skin? I had no idea. The portrait he painted of me had been a two-hour rush job. I remembered how thrilled I had been, circling the canvas again and again, chattering excitedly. I had ignored the coolness in his eyes. The painting I had treasured like a priceless artifact was nothing compared to this masterpiece. I squeezed my eyes shut, a familiar ache twisting in my gut. I remembered the first time I saw Bernard. He was standing on the ledge of a sixteen-story building. I had called out to him, coaxing him, practically tricking him, until he was safely back on the roof. It was only when the danger had passed that I realized my own legs were trembling. He just stared at me, silent. Such a fragile soul. In my arrogance, I thought I could save him. A decade of my life had been tangled up with his since that day. He was an artist. He’d list one painting a month for sale, but no one ever bought them. So, every month, I would anonymously buy his work for a thousand dollars. I worked overtime, schmoozed clients, drank until my stomach bled. When I was discharged from the hospital, the first thing I did was buy him a bouquet of roses. He said nothing. He just posted online. [Vulgar.] So, it was Jasmine he liked. Beautiful Jasmine. A laugh escaped my lips, sharp and humorless. How stupid I had been, unable to see the disgust that was so plainly written. How naive, to waste my youth and arrive at thirty with nothing to show for it. Ten years of my life, summed up by him in two words: “The devoted type.” My phone pinged. A text from Bernard: [Wake up and accept the friend request.] Ten minutes later, another one. [He’s the new boyfriend I found for you.] 3 My hand tightened around my phone. I took a picture of the painting and sent it to him. [This is Jasmine, right?] Bernard, usually so aloof, was suddenly frantic. [How did you get into my studio?] [Chloe, don’t you dare touch my paintings.] He rushed home, his white suit slightly disheveled. He visibly relaxed when he saw the painting was unharmed, but his brow quickly furrowed in anger. “What the hell is wrong with you? Breaking into my studio in the middle of the night?” “My studio?” I said, my voice cold. “I walk into a room in my own damn apartment, and you think I’m crazy?” “You post your girlfriend for sale online, and that’s not crazy?” “You send a strange man her contact info, and that’s not crazy?” A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it was replaced by his usual indifference. “Relax. I vetted them.” “The one I sent you was the best of the bunch. Thirty-two, five-ten, in good shape, stable job. He’d be a good husband.” He added, as if it were a kindness, “We were together for seven years. I put some thought into it.” It was the middle of a sweltering August, but a chill crept deep into my bones. We had known each other for ten years, been in love for seven. The man standing before me was a block of ice I could never melt. I took a deep breath. It was all so pointless. “We’re breaking up, Bernard. And who I marry is none of your goddamn business.” The moment, when it came, was far quieter than I had ever imagined. I always thought a breakup like this would be a gut-wrenching, soul-tearing affair. He looked stunned. “Chloe, are you serious?” “Yes.” He frowned, then whispered, “Okay… Thank you.” I nodded. “Get your things and be out by tomorrow.” My gaze swept over the expensive art supplies. “Take what you need. Throw the rest out.” We were as calm as if we were discussing what to have for dinner. He hesitated. I rubbed my temples and turned to leave. Suddenly, his hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. “Are you angry with me?” His brow was knitted together, a hint of panic in his eyes. I used to love smoothing out those lines with my thumb, murmuring words of comfort. Now, I was just tired. So incredibly tired. “Honestly? Posting that was deeply disrespectful. If you wanted to break up, you could have just told me. You didn’t need to be passive-aggressive, you didn’t need to give me the silent treatment, and you certainly didn’t need to humiliate me like that. I wouldn’t have clung to you.” “Let’s just leave it at that. I have to work in the morning. If you’re going to pack now, please be quiet.” 4 He let go of my wrist, his frown deepening. “You’re still so materialistic. All you care about is money.” “Jasmine isn’t like that. She loves art, just like me.” A bitter smile touched my lips. “It’s three in the morning. Do whatever you want, you high-minded, brilliant artist.” Whether he stayed to say goodbye to his precious studio or ran off to find his soulmate, it had nothing to do with me anymore. He looked as if I’d struck him. “Fine,” he repeated, nodding. “Fine.” I reached the doorway when he called my name again. “Chloe!” I wanted to ignore him, but then he said, “Why did you have to ruin my painting?” I turned back. He was pointing at the frame. There was a fingerprint on it, so faint you had to be inches away to see it. But for him, it was as intolerable as the split end. His face was a mask of revulsion. “You’re jealous of Jasmine, so you just casually destroyed a painting I spent a whole month on?” “You can pretend to be all calm and collected, but you can’t hide the vulgarity in your soul!” His contempt was a scalpel, trying to peel back my skin. He called me dirty, because of what had happened to me when I was eighteen. He called me materialistic, because at thirty, I drank with clients until I was hospitalized. He spat out the final words. “You’re disgusting.” A cold sweat broke out on my forehead. My fingertips trembled as I reached out and smudged the fingerprint on the frame. “What are you doing now?” he demanded, his voice tight with anger. I smiled, a thin, sharp curve of my lips. Then I grabbed a nearby tube of paint and squeezed its contents all over the canvas. The faint, beautiful smile on Jasmine’s face vanished under a wave of color. The entire painting became an ugly, grotesque mess. His expression froze, his mind unable to process what he was seeing. I looked at him, at the fire that was starting to burn in his eyes, and said, enunciating every word, “Get. Out. Of. My. House. Now.” “Fine! Don’t you regret this!” he roared. “Don’t come crying back to me!” He slammed the door on his way out. The sound was so loud it made my own heart shudder. I didn’t have the energy to clean up the mess. I dragged my exhausted body back to my room and collapsed into bed. As I closed my eyes, the forum post replayed in my mind. A comment in the thread asked: 【What do you mean by ‘lightly used’?】 His reply: 【She’s not clean.】 Four words I had scrolled past, deliberately ignored. Now they echoed in my head, a relentless loop. Bernard thought I was dirty. I had always known. After the first time we were together, he spent the entire night throwing up in the bathroom. I had curled up in bed, pretending to be asleep. Maybe that was when he started to hate our relationship. Or maybe it was even earlier. A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I swallowed a sleeping pill, praying for a quick, dreamless sleep. 5 The company hired a new intern. Her name was Jasmine. One minute she was passing out snacks, the next she was recommending movies. In a single morning, she was friends with everyone. A colleague whispered to me, “Youth is a wonderful thing. She’s so bubbly and cute.” I said nothing, turning my attention back to the proposal for that evening’s client meeting. The last thing I expected was for my boss to assign an intern to shadow me. Before we left, Jasmine asked me to wait a moment. She reappeared in a white slip dress. “Sorry, Chloe,” she said with a little pout. “I spilled something on my clothes. Good thing I had a spare dress in my bag.” She stuck out her tongue and gave me a harmless little smile. At the dinner table, she was a whirlwind of activity, pouring drink after drink for the client, a man named Mr. Henderson, flattering him endlessly about how young and successful he was. She knew nothing about the project and didn’t mention it once. Mr. Henderson, an old acquaintance, shot me a confused look. I kept my eyes down, picking at the food on my plate. It was actually fine. At least someone else was doing the drinking for a change. I just wondered if Bernard would think his precious Jasmine was being materialistic now. She drank too much. While we were waiting for a car outside the restaurant, she swayed and leaned heavily against me. “Don’t worry, Chloe,” she slurred. “My boyfriend is coming to get me.” “He’s a really famous painter. One of his paintings sells for a thousand dollars.” “If he sells… like, eight or ten a month, I won’t have to work at all.” She tried to count on her fingers, then giggled foolishly. She leaned in closer, her voice a conspiratorial whisper in my ear. “You know, he had a girlfriend for seven years. Well, ex-girlfriend now.” “I heard she was a total doormat. So I suggested he ‘give her away’ like an old piece of furniture. Funny, right?” “The post even went viral. I’ll share it with you when I get home.” Seeing my blank expression, she smiled, her voice dropping lower. “I know it was you, Chloe.” “You two had a rough night last night, huh? Your dark circles are terrible.” “A woman hits thirty, she starts to age fast…” She moved closer and closer. I frowned and took a step back. Jasmine lost her balance and tumbled to the ground. “Jasmine!” It was Bernard. He was wearing his white suit, jogging over to help her up. He looked up at me, his eyes blazing with fury. “Ruining the painting wasn’t enough? Now you have to go after her personally?” “Chloe, I never realized you were so vile.” Without thinking, I nodded. “That’s right. The sight of you two makes me sick. Get out of my life, or I’ll make yours a living hell every chance I get.” “You paint a few pictures and think you’re some great artist? Calling yourselves soulmates, kindred spirits? Let’s call it what it is: one of you is a cheater, and the other is a home-wrecker who knew exactly what she was doing.” His face went slack with shock. “What did you say?” I laughed. “I’m not repeating myself. You can figure it out.” He opened his mouth to say something else, but Jasmine tugged on his sleeve. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her lip trembling pitifully. “I feel so sick,” she whimpered. “I drank so much tonight.” “It was my first time drinking like this. But what could I do? I’m just an intern… and I ran into your ex-girlfriend.” Bernard’s expression softened into one of pure tenderness. He kissed her forehead, then glared back at me, his face instantly hardening. “Chloe. Apologize to Jasmine.” I felt like I had just heard the world’s most absurd joke. I turned to leave, but his hand shot out and clamped down on my wrist. The force was crushing, as if he meant to shatter the bone. Pain shot up my arm, and I sucked in a sharp breath. He repeated, his voice low and dangerous, “Apologize. To Jasmine.” 6 I didn’t say a word. I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood. My face was pale, and my whole body was trembling. He could break my arm, and I still wouldn’t apologize. I had done nothing wrong. Bernard’s brow furrowed, a strange emotion flickering in his eyes. Jasmine saw it, and a shadow passed over her face, gone in an instant. She blinked her watery eyes and said in a choked voice, “The painting is gone… I had to drink all that wine…” “Chloe, what will it take for you to be satisfied?” Two tears rolled down her cheeks. She sniffled, then seemed to make a decision. “Just hit me!” she cried. “If it will make you feel better, if you’ll just treat me normally at work, I’m willing to take a slap!” A surge of pure rage washed over me. My free hand started to lift, but it was caught in an iron grip. “Jasmine,” Bernard said, his voice as cold as ice. “You’re not the one who deserves to be hit.” “She is.” He pinned both of my arms. I watched, helpless, as Jasmine’s lips curved into a triumphant smirk. She raised her hand. A sharp, stinging slap landed across my face. The burning pain spread from my skin straight to my heart. In that instant, a thousand memories flashed through my mind. For the first time, I asked myself: Why did I save him? Why did I let him drag me to this point? A broken laugh escaped me. “I regret it so much,” I rasped. A flicker of something—pity? regret?—crossed his face. It was quickly replaced by ice. “It’s too late for regrets now. You should have thought of the consequences when you ruined my painting, when you deliberately targeted Jasmine.” I shook my head. “No.” “I regret saving you.” His pupils constricted. His heart plummeted. He forced a smirk. “Well, you did.” He released my arms, waiting. He probably expected me to scream, to attack him, to have a complete breakdown. But I did none of those things. I didn’t even look at him. I simply turned and walked away, my back straight, my steps unwavering. A black Porsche Cayenne pulled up beside me. A handsome man got out and opened the passenger door. I got in. I never looked back. 7 An inexplicable panic began to coil in Bernard’s stomach. He tugged irritably at his collar, wrinkling his already rumpled shirt. For once, he didn’t seem to care about his appearance. He raised a hand to rub his temples. Then he froze. That was Chloe’s habit. A small gesture she made when she was exhausted after working late into the night. “Wow, calling a cab and a Cayenne shows up,” Jasmine said bitterly beside him. “Some people have all the luck.” The thought was broken. He dropped his hand and muttered, “A cab?” “What else? Where would she meet a rich, handsome guy? He’s probably just killing time with her.” He nodded thoughtfully. “Didn’t you drive here today?” she asked, looking around. He blinked. The car he had driven to pick her up in belonged to Chloe. It seemed Jasmine had misunderstood. He was about to explain, but then he saw the slight frown on her face. For some reason, he chose to lie. “It’s in the shop. Let’s just walk.” He could just sell one of his old paintings and buy a car. It wasn’t a big deal.

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