In our elective, my boyfriend saved a seat only for his childhood best friend. Again. This time, I didn’t fight her. I didn’t make a scene. Clutching my textbook, I just sat down next to the campus genius, Mario Lewis. As my boyfriend and his bestie were deliberately getting cozy, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve. “Your girlfriend and my boyfriend are getting pretty friendly over there. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” Mario’s gaze was cool. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” I bit my lip, leaning in closer. “Well, do you want one?” He stopped writing and looked at me then. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. “You get to blow off some steam, and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” 1 The moment I stepped into the lecture hall, I saw him. Liam. And right next to him, with an arm slung casually over his shoulder as they laughed about something, was his childhood best friend, Chloe. They saw me at the same time. Liam instinctively tried to push Chloe away, but she just tightened her grip, shooting me a smug, defiant look. “Sorry,” she chirped, her voice loud enough for the rows around them to hear. “Liam only saved one extra seat. First come, first served.” The chatter in the hall slowly died down. All eyes were on us now. This wasn’t the first time Liam had saved a seat only for Chloe. The first time it happened, I was so hurt I just burst into tears and ran out of the room. The second time, Chloe hit me with the same taunt. I fought back, we argued, and I took the seat by force. Liam and I fought for days after that because of her. The stress was so bad my skin was a mess. This time, watching them pull the same tired stunt, I just felt… empty. It was all so pointless. I didn’t fight with Chloe. I didn’t argue with Liam. I didn’t even spare them a second glance. Clutching my textbook, I walked straight to the back row, to the only other empty seat in the entire hall. “Excuse me,” I said softly. “Is this seat taken?” 2 The guy sitting there, headphones on and head down, was scribbling furiously in a notebook. He looked up at the sound of my voice. His gaze seemed to linger on my face for a heartbeat before flickering away. He stood up, giving me room to slide in. “Thanks,” I murmured, settling into the seat by the wall. From the front of the hall, there was a loud thump as a book was slammed onto a desk. I looked up just in time to meet Chloe’s glare. Her eyes were burning with a hatred that was almost startling. Suddenly, I remembered a rumor I’d heard when I first got to campus. Something about Chloe and the guy next to me, Mario Lewis, having some kind of childhood promise—that their families had always planned for them to get married. I couldn’t help but sneak a glance at him. He’d already put his headphones back on, head bent in concentration as he worked through a problem set. All I could see was his sharp profile, radiating an aura of cool, untouchable distance. My phone buzzed. A text from Liam. Lost a bet last night. That’s why I had to save Chloe a seat. Don’t be mad, babe. I’ll take you out for a fancy dinner tonight to make it up to you. I stared at the words, a bitter laugh threatening to escape. There was always an excuse. It was always something. Either Chloe was sick and he had to ditch our date to take her to the clinic, or he was reminding me they grew up together, that they were “basically brothers.” If there was really something going on between them, he’d say, would I even have had a chance with him? Liam was my first love, and I had thrown myself into this relationship completely. That’s why it was always so easy for him to play with my emotions. But now? All I felt was a profound sense of boredom. I didn’t reply. I just closed the message. During the mid-class break, Liam and Chloe started roughhousing again. “Oh, you’re asking for it now, Liam!” Chloe shrieked, lunging at him playfully. It looked more like aggressive flirting than a real fight. She wrapped her hands around his neck, and from his expression, he was loving every second of it. “Alright, alright, can you try acting like a girl for once?” he chuckled. “Please. I’m not one of those fragile little things,” she said, her voice dripping with meaning as she shot a look in my direction. “I don’t burst into crocodile tears to get attention. And I definitely don’t talk in some fake, high-pitched voice. It’s disgusting.” I lowered my head, a small, humorless smile touching my lips. Under the desk, my hand reached out and gently tugged on the sleeve of Mario’s shirt. “Mario.” He turned his head. I pursed my lips and pointed to his headphones. He didn’t say a word, just lifted the earbud on my side. Taking a deep breath, I pitched my voice just like Chloe had described—sweet and a little breathless. “Your girlfriend is being awfully friendly with my boyfriend. Doesn’t that make you jealous?” 3 Mario’s eyes were clear and cold. “I don’t have a girlfriend.” “But I heard… she has a childhood promise with you.” “That’s baseless gossip,” he said, his voice dropping a degree, becoming even colder. I found myself looking at him again, my eyes tracing the clean, sharp line of his jaw before drifting down to the hand holding his pen. Sunlight streamed through the window, enveloping him in a soft glow. In that light, his long fingers looked like they were sculpted from marble. I bit my lip, leaned in closer, and whispered, “Well, do you want one?” “Want what?” He suddenly turned to face me fully. I didn’t have time to pull back. The fresh, cool scent of mint washed over me, and my breath hitched. “A girlfriend.” Mario put his pen down. “What’s in it for me?” My cheeks flushed. I looked down, my lashes casting shadows. A new pimple, red and swollen, was throbbing on the right side of my chin. It was itchy and sore. My roommate said it was from all the stress—my hormones were all out of whack. In the front row, Liam and Chloe were still at it. Chloe was now perched on the edge of a desk, her foot playfully kicking at Liam’s leg. Every so often, she’d glance back at me, letting out an obnoxiously loud laugh. It was the kind of laugh that was supposed to sound carefree, but to me, it was just grating. I remembered the first time I met her. Liam introduced us. She was standing next to him, arm draped over his shoulders just like one of his guy friends, and she looked me up and down with open disdain. Then, she punched Liam playfully in the arm. “Seriously, man? I can’t believe this is your type. A sweet little damsel in distress.” She’d added, “You better not ditch your friends for a girl. I’ll be the first one to call you out.” And Liam… he had just grinned, like he enjoyed being the prize in some twisted competition. I took a deep breath. Just as Chloe let out another theatrical laugh and glanced our way, I tugged on Mario’s sleeve again. “You get to blow off some steam,” I whispered, “and I get my stress levels under control. It’s a win-win.” I’d heard whispers. Mario was working on a killer thesis project. He’d been pulling all-nighters in the lab for weeks. He didn’t speak. He just picked up his pen, twirling it between those perfect fingers. After a long moment, he looked at me again, the corner of his mouth twitching into something that might have been a smile. “Sounds like a decent proposal,” he said softly. “There’s just one problem…” I held my breath. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and the light in the room dimmed. Mario’s voice seemed to cool with it. “I’m not interested in someone else’s girlfriend.” 4 Class resumed. Chloe was back in her seat, acting like a model student. When the professor walked back in, the room fell silent. In a voice only Mario and I could hear, I whispered, “I’m planning on breaking up with him.” Mario’s eyes stayed fixed on the blackboard. “Then do it. We can talk after.” I didn’t dare say another word. He had a reputation for being a genius, and when he was focused, he had a “do not disturb” aura that was seriously intimidating. For the rest of the lecture, I stared obediently at the professor, but my mind was a million miles away. Just before the bell rang, my phone buzzed again. Liam. Something came up tonight. Can we meet up tomorrow instead? I typed back instantly. No need. Let’s just break up. His reply was almost immediate. Ava, don’t be like this. I promise I’ll spend the whole weekend with you. How many times do I have to tell you, Chloe and I are just friends. Okay, fine. I promise I won’t let her tag along on our date this weekend. I didn’t reply. The moment class was dismissed, Chloe grabbed Liam and started dragging him out of the room. At the doorway, she glanced back, but this time, she wasn’t looking at me. She was looking at Mario. He didn’t notice. He had his headphones on, packing his books away. Chloe’s face fell with a flicker of disappointment before she pulled Liam out into the hallway. “Mario,” I said, my heart pounding as I worked up the courage to stop him as he stood up. “Can I… get your number?” He didn’t pull out his phone. “Break up with him first.” He was tall, and when he looked down at me, I felt completely exposed, like he could see right through me. I couldn’t meet his eyes. Instead, I pulled up my text conversation with Liam and held my phone out for him to see. “Look,” I mumbled. “I already did.” He glanced at the screen. Then, right there in front of him, I deleted and blocked Liam’s contact. “Do you believe me now?” Mario’s impossibly handsome face remained a blank mask. But then, he took out his own phone and pulled up a QR code. “Add me.” 5 Right after I added him, Mario left. He said he was swamped with lab work for the next couple of days and suggested we meet up on Saturday night. I just sat there, watching him walk away until he disappeared from view. Then I sank back into my chair, feeling dazed. If his name wasn’t sitting right there in my contact list, I would’ve thought the whole thing was a dream. I couldn’t sleep that night. Chloe was spamming her social media feed with pictures from a party with their group of childhood friends. In almost every single photo, she and Liam were the center of attention. The last picture was a shot of them kissing. I wanted to be numb, to feel nothing, but I couldn’t. A bitter, self-mocking smile twisted my lips as I deleted Chloe from my contacts. Then, I posted a picture of my own. It was a photo my roommates had taken of me earlier that evening, a shot of my back as I walked across the campus green. It was a beautiful, ethereal picture. For the caption, I wrote: Basking in the clean, sweet air of being single. My phone immediately blew up. Comments from mutual friends flooded in. ??? Ava, did you and Liam have a fight? No way, did you guys break up? I knew this would happen. It’s because of Chloe, isn’t it? I didn’t answer any of them. Because a new message had just popped up. From Mario. Can’t sleep? A little. Are you still in the lab? Yeah. Tonight’s not going well. He sent a picture. On a lab bench, next to a bunch of complex equipment, was a small tortoise shell and some incense sticks. I’ve even resorted to superstition, and the data is still wrong. Oh no. What are you going to do? Is it urgent? Very. The report is due tomorrow. Then… I won’t bother you. A few seconds passed. Then, a voice message appeared. I pressed play. “Weren’t you going to help me blow off some steam?” His voice was low and husky, laced with an undeniable exhaustion that made my stomach flutter. I shot up in bed, my face burning. My heart was hammering against my ribs so hard I thought it might burst. I typed and deleted a reply a dozen times, completely flustered. Another message from him came through. Your chin. Does it still hurt? I bit my lip, hard enough to leave a mark. Yeah. And it’s a little itchy. 6 Mario picked me up and took me to the lab. The first thing I saw when I walked in was an altar-like setup on one of the counters. It had a turtle shell and still-smoldering incense. “A grad student from a few years back left it,” Mario explained. “Swears it’s magic.” On a nearby incubator, a yellowing, hand-written talisman was taped to the glass. “That’s from the student before him,” he added. “We can’t remove it. The fungal cultures won’t grow otherwise.” I quickly pulled back my curious hand. So this is what the most advanced labs at a top university looked like. I guess the end of science really is superstition. Mario slipped on a clean white lab coat. He leaned against the windowsill, the dark circles under his eyes stark against his pale skin. “Unfortunately,” he sighed, “none of it is working tonight.” “So what now?” He shook his head. “I don’t know. All I can do is run the test again.” “Will I… be in your way here?” A small smile touched his lips. “No. I have to wait for the data to process anyway. It’s boring sitting here alone.” “I can keep you company, then.” I walked over and leaned against the windowsill next to him. The moonlight was soft, bathing us both in its gentle glow. I don’t know where the courage came from. “Mario.” “Hm?” “My chin really hurts.” “I can go buy you some…” “My roommate said it’s my hormones. All out of whack from stress.” I turned and looked up at him, my face tilted towards the moonlight. “Want to help me regulate them?”

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It had been three months since I’d last seen my long-distance boyfriend, Alex. Then, out of the blue, he texted to say he was coming to see me, that he’d bought a train ticket and would be arriving tomorrow morning. I was ecstatic. I pushed myself to finish a major project, working until two in the morning. I begged my boss for the next day off, willingly sacrificing my perfect attendance bonus. But the next day, I waited at the station until two in the afternoon, and he never showed. Then, my phone buzzed with a message from him. Babe, you didn’t actually believe me, did you? I just wanted to make you happy for a minute. It’s not a big deal, you can just go back to work now! 1 A final string in my mind, stretched taut for months, finally broke with a deafening twang. I felt the blood drain from my body, only to rush back and pound in my ears. My hand, clutching the phone, trembled so violently I thought the screen might shatter under the pressure. For his so-called surprise, I had pulled an all-nighter and given up my bonus. I had run on three hours of sleep to get to the train station, where I waited for six solid hours like a complete idiot. And now he was telling me it was all just a joke? I immediately called him back. He actually answered this time, his voice syrupy with a lazy smile. “What’s up, babe? Miss me already?” “Alex!” It took every ounce of my willpower not to scream in the middle of the bustling station. “What the hell are you doing?!” “Hey, don’t be mad,” he said, his tone utterly carefree. “I just wanted to test how much you love me. Seeing you take it so seriously honestly made me so happy. You must feel so loved right now, right?” Loved? All I felt was a chilling cold that seeped into my bones. “I took a day off for you! I gave up my bonus! I’ve been waiting here like a fool for hours! And you call that a joke?” My voice shook with rage. “Alright, alright, my bad,” he said, switching to his usual tactic of feigned remorse. “I was wrong, okay? I love you, that’s why I wanted to mess with you a little. I’ll Venmo you double for the bonus. Don’t be mad, sweetie.” There it was again. Every time he pulled one of his cruel “pranks,” every time he made me furious, he would smooth it all over with a half-assed apology and a casual “I love you.” And every single time, I had forgiven him, telling myself that long-distance relationships were just hard. “Alex,” I took a deep breath, my eyes stinging. “I’m just… so tired.” “I know, I know,” he promised instantly. “Next week! I swear, I’ll buy a ticket and come see you next week, for real this time! If I’m lying, you can call me a dog!” Listening to his earnest vow, my resolve crumbled. I hung up. In the station bathroom, I stared at my reflection. My makeup was smudged, dark circles shadowed my eyes. I looked pathetic. This is the last time, I told myself. The absolute last time. 2 A week later, Alex actually came. When he showed up at my door, dragging a suitcase behind him, he had a sheepish, eager-to-please grin on his face and my favorite cheesecake in his hand. In that moment, I’ll admit, the resentment that had been building for a week mostly melted away. “No joke this time,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “I missed you like crazy.” I believed him. I naively thought that the last incident would have been enough to teach him where the line was. But I had forgotten a simple truth: some habits are impossible to break. His visit coincided with a critical turning point in my career. My team was in the final stages of pitching for a massive client. If we landed this account, I was in line for a promotion to Project Manager, not to mention a six-figure year-end bonus. I hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep in two weeks. The afternoon Alex arrived, I was in the middle of my final push for the presentation the next day. I got him settled in and apologized. “Can you entertain yourself for a bit? Watch some TV, play some games? I have to nail this presentation tonight. After tomorrow, I’m all yours, I promise.” He smiled, the picture of a supportive boyfriend. “Go, go. Work is important. Your future is my future, right?” I was so moved by his words that I dove headfirst into my work, completely losing track of time. At 10 PM, I finally finished the last data check and polished the final slide. I saved the file and stretched, ready for a relaxing shower. As I walked through the living room, I saw Alex on my laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard. “What are you looking at?” I asked casually. Without looking up, he grinned mysteriously. “A little surprise! I thought your presentation was a bit boring, so I jazzed it up for you. I guarantee the client will be blown away. They’ll sign on the spot!” A cold dread washed over me. “You touched my presentation?!” I lunged for the laptop. But he held it up like a trophy, turning the screen toward me. “See? I changed their stuffy old logo into a smiley face flashing a peace sign. Way more friendly, right? And here—the financial charts were so dry, so I added some ‘make it rain’ memes. Much more festive!” I stared at the screen, at the abomination he’d made of my work. My blood ran cold. That presentation was the product of countless sleepless nights, of more than thirty revisions. “Alex, are you insane?!” I shrieked. “This is a formal business proposal, not your YouTube channel!” “Jeez, why are you always so serious?” he scoffed. “It’s the 21st century. Nobody wants to see that old, boring crap anymore. It’s called innovation, ever heard of it? I was helping you.” “I don’t need your help!” I was shaking with fury. I snatched the laptop back and frantically tried to find the original version. But it was too late. Not only had he modified the file, he had also hit “save.” And to make matters worse, he’d deleted the backup I had saved to my desktop. “It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said, completely unconcerned. “I think my version is way better. Just use it. You’ll kill it.” I looked at his face, devoid of any remorse, and for the first time, I felt a profound, soul-crushing exhaustion. I stayed up all night, redoing the entire presentation from scratch. 3 The next day, I walked into the conference room feeling like a hollowed-out shell of myself. Running on pure adrenaline, I began my presentation. Halfway through, during the market analysis section, a massive image suddenly filled the screen. It was a picture of the stern, square-jawed CEO of Blue Ocean Capital, photoshopped onto the body of a husky. Next to it, in bright, cartoonish letters, was the caption: “OUR BOSS IS A TOTAL STUD!” The room fell dead silent. I could literally hear my own heart stop beating. The lead representative from Blue Ocean Capital, his face a mask of thunder, stood up abruptly. Without a word, he and his team walked out of the room. My director, a kind, soft-spoken man, looked at me with an expression of pure, unadulterated disappointment. His lips moved, but only three words came out. “You’re done here.” I don’t know how I got out of that building. I floated home like a ghost. Alex was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, engrossed in a video game. He saw me and grinned. “So? Did my creative genius blow them away? Did they sign the contract right then and there?” I stared at him, my chest heaving. A fire was raging in my throat, so hot I couldn’t speak. My silence finally seemed to clue him in that something was wrong. He put down his controller. “What’s up? You look awful. The pitch… it didn’t go well?” “Didn’t go well?” I finally found my voice, a ragged, raw sound. “It was a goddamn catastrophe! Alex, my job, my promotion, my entire career—you’ve ruined everything!” I lost it. The dam of frustration, rage, and despair that had been building inside me finally burst. I screamed, a raw, primal sound, and swept everything off the coffee table. Faced with my complete breakdown, Alex didn’t show a flicker of guilt or concern. He just stared for a second. And then, he pulled out his phone and aimed it at me. “Babe, you know, you look kinda cute when you’re freaking out,” he said, a grin in his voice. “I gotta get this on video. For the memories.” He pressed the record button. That single action was a poison-tipped knife, twisting into the softest part of my heart. Memories? He wanted to commemorate this? The moment I hit rock bottom, the moment he single-handedly destroyed my future? “Aaaargh!” I launched myself at him, snatching the phone from his hand. With all the strength I possessed, I slammed it onto the hardwood floor. CRACK! The screen spiderwebbed with a sickening crunch. It wasn’t enough. I lifted my foot and stomped on it, again and again, until the phone was nothing but a pile of unrecognizable plastic and circuits. “You destroyed my future! How can you stand there and say it’s not a big deal?!” My eyes were bloodshot, tears and screams mixing into a choked, desperate sound. My sheer ferocity seemed to shock him out of his stupor. He stared at the wreckage of his phone, his smirk finally gone. “Sarah, are you serious?” he snapped, his own anger flaring. “It’s just a job! You can find another one! You smashed my brand-new phone over something so stupid?” “Stupid?” I laughed, a broken, hysterical sound. “In your eyes, the months of work I poured into this, the career I was building for myself, that’s just something stupid?” “What else would it be?” he shot back, his jaw tight. “Your boss has no sense of humor! And besides, I came all this way to see you, and all you’ve done is work! Where do I fit in?”

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I became the villain’s stepmother. I didn’t really care. I just took the villain with me whenever I went out. Until one day, a series of live comments appeared before my eyes. 【Wait, how is this Tasmanian devil of a villain so docile?】 【I remember the last nanny they hired ran away screaming!】 【LMAO, who the hell goes on a five-kilometer power walk for a “casual stroll”? With no other draining activities, either. The villain looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, hahaha!】 I glanced at the little villain, who had made a beeline for his bed the moment we got home. I pursed my lips, but before I could speak, his eyes met mine. He immediately burrowed under the covers, hiding himself completely. 1 My marriage to Corbett was a contract. A simple exchange of benefits between our two families, with no feelings involved. After all, love doesn’t just fall from the sky. The only people breaking down your door are the blind dates your family sets you up with. After the wedding ceremony, Corbett made an excuse about work and left the villa. I gave him a perfunctory nod. The housekeeper, Mrs. Davison, shot me a sympathetic look. I figured she felt sorry for me, being trapped in a loveless marriage, and didn’t think much of it. As I was relaxing on the sofa, a small, thin figure in the corner of my eye caught my attention. A boy, maybe eight or nine years old, was leaning against the doorframe, studying me with a pair of dark, intense eyes. I knew instantly who he was. This was Leo, the son from Corbett’s first wife. The tabloids said Corbett barely paid him any mind, too busy with his work. I figured the kid was shy, so I didn’t call him over. I just offered him a small smile before closing my eyes again. We’d have plenty of time to get to know each other later. The thought had barely crossed my mind when there was a loud CRASH! My eyes flew open. An antique vase that had been sitting in the corner was now a pile of glittering shards on the floor. The pieces were scattered around Leo’s feet. The housekeeper glanced at me nervously, her words catching in her throat. “Ma’am, Leo, he…” My brow furrowed slightly. Everyone, including the little boy standing amidst the wreckage, seemed to be waiting for me to explode. He slowly lifted his gaze to meet mine, a flicker of defiance in his dark eyes. But I did something no one expected. I stood up, walked over to him, and gave the pedestal the vase had been sitting on a firm shove. “This is just asking to be knocked over,” I told the housekeeper. “Get rid of this, too.” The heavy pedestal hit the floor with a dull thud. The boy, who had been braced for a scolding, froze. He stared up at me, his expression faltering. I thought he might be scared, so I instinctively wrapped an arm around his small frame, patting his back with an awkwardness I couldn’t hide. “It’s okay, don’t be scared. Where’s your room? I’ll take you back so you can get some sleep.” Leo’s entire body went rigid in my arms. Seeing he wasn’t fighting me, I held him a little tighter. First time being a stepmom, no experience. Am I doing this right? What I didn’t notice was the series of emotions that flashed across the little boy’s face as I held him—first flushed, then pale, his jaw clenching as he bit back whatever he was about to say. 2 Corbett didn’t come home that night. I wasn’t bothered. After tucking Leo into bed, I went to my own room and slept soundly. The next morning, I was up before the sun. It was a habit of mine to get an early workout in. After washing up, I was about to head out when I remembered the housekeeper’s strange attitude towards Leo. I paused. Corbett was probably away so often that the staff didn’t pay much attention to his son. I hadn’t planned on getting close to Leo, but he was my stepson now, at least in name. Leaving him to be neglected didn’t feel right. On a whim, I changed course and headed for Leo’s room. The curtains were drawn, and the room was dark and silent. I assumed he was still asleep and was about to leave when I glanced down at the bed. A pair of wide-awake, dark eyes stared back at me. He was buried under the covers with only his head sticking out, his gaze clear and alert. He seemed a little confused that I wasn’t startled. “Oh, you’re awake,” I said, oblivious to his little scheme. I patted the lump under the covers. “Get up. Let’s go work out together.” Leo just stared at me blankly for a long moment. Then, a flicker of something new crossed his face, and he slowly climbed out of bed. The morning air was crisp. We jogged a full loop around the gated community, which was built around a massive lake. By the time we finished, I was sweating. I looked back to see Leo trailing behind me. He had a kid’s energy, but the long run had left him panting heavily. As he caught up, before he could say anything, I grabbed his hand and gave it a little swing. “You did great!” I grinned. “Come on, let’s go get some breakfast.” Leo’s face was flushed, his dark eyes fixed on me as if he wanted to say something, but he remained silent. I was in a great mood and even ate an extra slice of toast. When Mrs. Davison came into the dining room and saw Leo quietly eating his breakfast, she stopped in her tracks and muttered, “He didn’t even throw a single plate today…” I vaguely heard her mention a plate but didn’t pay it much mind. I glanced at the boy silently eating his eggs and felt a little warmer towards him. Heh, who doesn’t love a well-behaved kid? 3 After breakfast, I took Leo to the mall. Kids grow fast. I’d noticed during our run that his pants were a little too short. I figured some new clothes would be a nice welcome gift. We went to several stores, but I couldn’t find anything I liked. After lunch, we tried a few high-end children’s boutiques. I finally picked out a few outfits and brought them over to Leo, who was waiting on a sofa. The moment he saw me approach, he shot to his feet, his face set in a defiant line. “I’m not trying—” “Look,” I interrupted, holding up a jacket. “Do you like this color?” Caught off guard, he blinked. He glanced at the navy blue jacket, his eyes darting back and forth before he let out a dismissive scoff. “No.” He looked up at me, clearly expecting an argument. Instead, I just handed the jacket back to the sales associate and pulled him to his feet. “You’re right,” I said cheerfully. “You pick, then.” Leo stared at me, dumbfounded. He proceeded to pick out several of the ugliest items in the store, each one worse than the last. I was baffled. Do kids these days actually like ugly clothes? I didn’t get it, but I respected it. After I paid, I handed all the bags to Leo. “Here you go,” I said with a wide smile. “These are all the clothes you wanted.” He looked completely stunned, his eyes wide as he stared down at the bags in his hands. 4 I took his stunned silence as a sign of satisfaction and headed off to the women’s section to buy a few things for myself. By the time we got home, it was already dark. Dinner was ready and waiting. Fried shrimp, sweet and sour ribs, stir-fried vegetables… Leo, who had barely touched his lunch, devoured two whole bowls of rice. Mrs. Davison looked at him in surprise. “My, Leo, you have quite an appetite today.” At her words, Leo froze, shooting a glare in my direction. The tips of his ears, hidden under his dark hair, turned a faint pink. I didn’t think much of it. Seeing him eat so much, I decided to take him out for a walk after dinner to help him digest before finally letting him go to bed. … For the next few weeks, I took Leo with me whenever I went out. He was on summer vacation with nothing to do, and I was on my post-wedding leave with nothing to do. So, we went to theme parks, the movies, a water park. I was making up for all the things I missed out on in my own childhood. At first, Leo was sullen and withdrawn. But as we spent more time together, I started seeing the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile when he thought I wasn’t looking. About half a month passed like this. One evening, as the last rays of sunset faded from the sky, we came home and had dinner. As usual, he immediately went to his room. I didn’t think anything of it. I planned to go for a walk by the lake later, so I sat on the sofa for a bit before heading to his room to get him. But as I raised my hand to knock, the world flickered. A stream of glowing text suddenly materialized in front of my eyes. 【Wait, how is this demon child of a villain so docile?】 【I remember the last nanny they hired ran away screaming!】 【LMAO, who the hell walks five kilometers for a “casual stroll”? With no other draining activities, either. The villain looks like he’s about to pass out from exhaustion, hahaha!】 “What the…?” I whispered. What villain? I pushed the door open and saw Leo already in bed. I pursed my lips, but before I could speak, the little boy met my gaze and immediately burrowed under the covers, hiding himself completely. I was speechless. 5 In the dim room, a small lump shivered under the covers. The live comments were scrolling frantically. 【Hahaha, look at the villain’s terrified little eyes! Why is he so cute?!】 【Villain: Don’t you come near me!】 【Is the female side character doing this on purpose to mess with him? With the villain’s vengeful personality, he’s definitely going to get back at her…】 That last comment made my temple throb. Why would I deliberately mess with a child? That was insane. But the comments did give me some context. Apparently, we were living in a novel. Leo was the villain who, due to his mother’s early death and his father’s neglect, grew up to be neurotic, gloomy, and unstable. As an adult, he would become completely unhinged, targeting the main characters until he met a tragic end. I don’t have a hero complex. I had only started taking Leo with me because I was worried the staff would neglect him. But now, it seemed he didn’t just dislike it—he might actually resent me for it. With that thought, my intention of asking him out for a walk vanished. I turned, left the room, and gently closed the door behind me. The soft click of the latch was loud in the quiet night. Under the covers, the little boy’s ears twitched. When he was sure I was gone, Leo let out a sigh of relief. But then his brow furrowed. After a long moment of silence, he peeked out from under the blanket. The room was empty, swallowed by darkness. Leo sat up abruptly, staring at the door. Then, as if realizing something, he relaxed. His eyelashes fluttered as he muttered to himself, “She really just left?” He sighed and lay back down. Well, I’ll see her tomorrow anyway. 6 I had no idea what Leo was thinking. But my leave was ending tomorrow, and I had to go back to work. And from what I’d gathered, Leo was more than capable of handling the household staff on his own. The next morning, I got dressed and left the villa. My office was far away, so I decided to stay at my apartment in the city for convenience. Days turned into a week. Back at the villa, after several days of not seeing me, Leo couldn’t help but ask Mrs. Davison, “Where did… that person go?” “Which person, dear?” she asked, confused by his vague question. Leo’s brow furrowed in annoyance, but he managed to keep his temper in check. “The… the new aunt. Rachel.” Mrs. Davison finally understood. “Oh, the madam is away on business,” she said with a gentle smile. “Where did she go?” Leo pressed. “I’m not sure. She didn’t say.” Leo’s lips tightened into a thin line. The first few days, he hadn’t cared. He’d lounged around, enjoying the peace and quiet. But soon, every little sound from outside would make his head snap up. Each time, he was met with disappointment. He sat on the sofa, unconsciously picking at the armrest, his eyes constantly darting towards the front door. The calm he’d felt just days before had slowly morphed into a restless anxiety. 7 When I finally returned to the villa, I was shocked to find the living room in complete chaos. Mrs. Davison rushed over to me, her face a mixture of exhaustion and relief. “Ma’am, you’re finally back!” I nodded, my eyes scanning the mess. “What happened here?” It was dinnertime, but the food was splattered all over the floor, soaking into the expensive carpet. I recognized most of the dishes as my favorites, which only confused me more. The live comments provided an answer. 【See? I told you. No one can handle a villain this neurotic!】 【He was eating just fine, and then suddenly he throws his chopsticks and flips the table. This kid is scary.】 【If I were the side character, I’d divorce this guy and run. The father and son are both bad news.】 I frowned as the comments flew by. Mrs. Davison glanced at Leo, who was sitting on a sofa across the room, and said tentatively, “Leo was in a bad mood today, so…” I’d seen my fair share of spoiled rich kids. While table-flipping wasn’t common, it wasn’t unheard of. I wasn’t particularly shocked. Hearing our voices, Leo, who had been staring at the TV, turned his head. When his eyes met mine, his gaze faltered. The stormy expression on his face froze. After a long moment, he shot to his feet. Mrs. Davison flinched, clearly tense. I stood my ground, my expression calm. Now that I knew his true nature, I had no intention of getting any closer. It wasn’t my problem. But to my surprise, as the little boy marched towards me, he stopped just a few feet away. He seemed to be struggling with himself. Finally, he forced out a single, choked question. “Where have you been… why didn’t you take me with you?” The last few words came out as a whisper, all the anger gone from his voice. It wasn’t an accusation. It sounded almost like a plea. I was stunned.

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The villain, grim and broken, hurled a teacup at me. “Get out,” he snarled. “Are you deaf?” I met his murderous gaze and, taking his hand, slowly traced two words onto his palm: I’m deaf. My System shrieked in my mind. “Host, what are you doing?!” “The only way to win him over is to be even more broken than he is.” I blinked at the villain, my eyes wide with a carefully crafted innocence, and continued to spell out my message. “I have a heart condition. Could you please… not be so mean?” A violent tremor shot through his hand. 1 “First a redemption mission, now a conquest mission. Are you guys sure you’ve got the right person?” I grumbled, carrying a tea tray down the second-floor hallway of the opulent mansion, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. My conversation was purely internal, a back-and-forth with the System in my head. “And don’t forget which division I’m from.” “We haven’t forgotten, we promise! But you’re the only agent in the Transmigration Bureau with a 100% success rate, and this world is down to its last chance. If you fail, this reality collapses…” the System whined, its tone reminiscent of a spurned lover. “We don’t know what’s wrong with this villain. His Corruption Level isn’t even that high, but he’s just… unconquerable.” “I’ve read the files. You’ve all been using the wrong approach,” I said, nearing the bedroom at the end of the long hall. “This is a conquest mission, but every agent before me tried to redeem him.” The System sounded confused. “But for a corrupted villain, isn’t redemption the ultimate form of conquest?” “Not for him. He’s different. His darkness comes from betrayal—his own brother, the one he loved most, orchestrated the car crash that stole his legs and everything he ever owned.” “So? How does that make him different?” I stopped before the heavy oak door and tilted my head. “He was born a golden boy, the heir to a fortune, showered with love his entire life. To him, your brand of ‘redemption’ feels like pity. A handout. And he doesn’t need your pity.” “Then… what does he need?” the System asked. A slow smile crept across my face. I raised my hand and knocked. A single word roared from within the room: “Out.” Even through the thick wood, the raw, explosive fury in that voice was unmistakable. “When he’s like this, no one can get near him! Host, you’d better…” A soft creak cut off the System’s frantic warning. I had already pushed the door open and stepped inside. 2 The moment I entered, my eyes were drawn to the man in the wheelchair. His face was a masterpiece of sculpted angles, his brow sharp and severe. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, and the pained tension in his expression lent a tragic, fragile beauty to his otherwise cold features. His hands were gripping the armrests, his knuckles white as he struggled to push himself up. At the sound of the door, he froze, his head snapping up. His eyes, naturally shaped for charm and warmth, were now swirling with a dark, simmering rage. This was the villain of this world: Adrian Thorne. “Get. Out,” he growled, his voice low and dangerous. I paused, blinking in feigned confusion, then walked past him toward a small side table to pour a cup of tea. Before he could roar at me again, I was holding it out to him. Adrian’s face was a mask of pure loathing. He snatched the cup from my hand and, in one violent motion, smashed it against my leg. The force of the movement sent scalding tea splashing across the back of his own hand, turning the skin an angry red in an instant. “I told you to get out! Are you deaf?” he roared. I glanced down at my soaked pants, then looked back up, meeting his murderous glare without flinching. Without warning, I reached out, took his hand, and turned it palm-up. “What are you—” Before he could pull away, my finger was tracing letters onto his skin. One slow, deliberate stroke at a time. I’m. Deaf. Adrian’s struggles ceased. After a long silence, the System screamed in my mind. “Host, what are you DOING?!” “Making myself more pathetic than him. It’s the only way.” While answering the System, I pulled a small notepad and pen from my pocket—prepared in advance, of course—and scribbled a few words. Then, blinking with wide, innocent eyes, I pressed the notepad into his hand. He looked down. His gaze fell upon the single line. “I have a heart condition. Could you please not be so mean?” A violent, uncontrollable tremor shot through Adrian’s hand. 3 Adrian Thorne was nothing like the villains who were forged in fire and misery from birth. He was the heir to the Northstar Corporation, born into staggering wealth and privilege, raised by loving parents. He had been a golden boy—bright, gentle, and kind. Five years ago, when his father’s illegitimate son, Jack, was brought into the family, Adrian had even welcomed him with open arms, treating him like a true brother. But no one in the Thorne family knew that Jack was a monster in sheep’s clothing. He played the part of the harmless, grateful outsider, slowly earning their trust while following Adrian into the corporate world. But five years wasn’t enough to tame the viper they’d welcomed into their home. When the time was right, Jack orchestrated two car crashes. The first killed Adrian’s parents instantly. The second left Adrian paralyzed from the waist down. Then, with a truly sadistic flourish, Jack kept Adrian a prisoner in the family mansion, forcing him to watch as he seized control of Northstar Corporation and even stole his fiancée. Jack was the true villain of this story, a textbook sociopath who dominated the early narrative. His pure, unadulterated evil only served to highlight how tragically compelling Adrian became when, pushed to the brink, he finally broke and became something far more terrifying. My arrival was perfectly timed. Adrian was a caged animal, Jack had solidified his power, and he was in the process of claiming Adrian’s fiancée for himself. I glanced at Adrian’s long, elegant fingers, the knuckles stark white as he crumpled the note. I knew, with certainty, that his Corruption Level was probably hovering at less than fifty percent. Just as I thought this, his hand moved. He took the pen from me and, after a brief pause, wrote two words. “Leave.” He didn’t say “get out” this time. “Host, it’s working!” the System chirped. I ignored its glee, my own eyes filling with manufactured tears as I took the notepad back. I bit my lip, my expression one of pure hurt. “I’m sorry.” After writing the words, I cast one last, wounded look at Adrian and turned to leave. “System,” I commanded internally, “give me some whip marks on my legs. Make them look like they were scalded and are now bleeding.” “Huh?” The System was baffled but complied. “Done.” The moment I took my first step, I buckled, doubling over as if in agony. “Make the blood drip onto the floor.” In my peripheral vision, I saw a trickle of red snake down my pant leg and pool on the pristine floorboards. The effect was a little… dramatic. My brow twitched. This was a bit much, even for me. Then, from behind me, came Adrian’s urgent voice. “Wait.” 4 I took another faltering step, putting on a full performance of ‘I’m in agony, but I’m trying to hide it, but I can’t, and oh, the shame.’ Adrian, remembering I was “deaf,” shoved his wheelchair forward, blocking my path. “Your leg…” he started, then stopped, frustrated. He snatched the notepad and scribbled, “What happened to your leg?” He followed it up with another question. “Do you know sign language?” A single tear rolled down my cheek as I began to sign. “My leg… it was already injured. The hot water just…” I trailed off, glancing meaningfully at the red, angry patch on the back of his hand. Adrian’s face darkened, his expression stormier than a thundercloud. He pointed to a nearby sofa. “Sit.” He then wheeled himself over to the phone by his bed and dialed a number. “Get the doctor up here. Now.” “Tsk, tsk. He’s a wreck himself, and he can still feel guilty for someone else. No wonder the readers used to call him a saint. And no wonder his brother played him for such a fool,” I mused to the System, my face a perfect mask of pitiable suffering. “That’s only because he hasn’t fully turned yet,” the System whispered back. “In the future, he’s basically Satan…” The future Satan hung up the phone and wheeled himself back over to me. He just sat there, lips pressed into a thin line, his deep eyes scrutinizing me as if trying to solve a puzzle. He was deciding what to do with me. I decided to strike first. I signed my pre-planned story: “I escaped and collapsed at the gates. The butler found me and brought me here.” “He told me to serve you. He said if I pleased you, I could stay.” It wasn’t a stretch. Every caregiver Adrian had was driven away within two days. The butler was desperate enough to hire a stray. “Please, don’t make me leave,” I signed, my hands trembling. “I don’t want to be dragged back there…” I left the sentence hanging, a perfect piece of bait. As expected, Adrian took it. “Back where? Where did you escape from?” “I don’t know what it was called. It was a red-brick estate. There were so many women locked inside. Men would come every day and… take their pick.” “The ones they took… some never came back. The ones who did… their clothes were always torn…” Adrian’s expression shifted, his face paling. I knew he’d filled in the blanks exactly as I wanted. “Because I can’t hear or scream for help, they weren’t watching me as closely.” I looked at him, my eyes wide and fearful. After a long moment, he finally signed back. “Your injuries…” “Before the red house… my foster father… he was violent…” Before Adrian could respond, the System cut in. “Host, don’t you think you’re laying it on a bit thick?” “Doesn’t matter. Buffs stacked to the max.” This was nothing. I might be losing a few story-patching points, but Adrian had lost his legs. I could be far, far more broken than this. 5 Jack was truly twisted. He kept Adrian imprisoned in the mansion, yet he didn’t mistreat him in the conventional sense. The food, the servants, the medical care—all were top-notch. When the doctor came to examine my leg, he had to roll up my pants. The moment the grotesque wound was exposed, Adrian flinched and sharply looked away. It was a masterpiece of illusion: a crisscrossing network of old and new scars. Across one section, angry red whip marks, blistered and split open, wept blood that traced patterns like dark ivy down my calf. It was gruesome. I was very pleased with the effect. I seized the opportunity to dismantle his defenses even further. “The injury won’t affect my work,” I signed desperately. “Please… please don’t send me away.” Adrian, true to his saintly reputation, couldn’t do it. Even half-corrupted, he let me stay at the Thorne mansion to recover. But the betrayal had left its mark. He let me stay, but that was all. He never asked me to serve him, never inquired about my recovery. It was as if he had forgotten I existed. A new maid was even hired to attend to him, and after two days, she was still here. The System was having a meltdown. “Host! Why aren’t you making a move on the target? He has a new maid!” I was living my best life, sprawled out on a luxurious bed, watching TV and eating imported fruit. “Relax. Conquest is all about timing.” “He has someone else to take care of him now! How are you going to get close?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m here to conquer him, not to be his maid. Someone else doing the grunt work is a good thing.” “…” The System went silent, fuming. It wasn’t until late that night, just after I’d fallen asleep, that it shrieked in my mind again. “Host, fire! The mansion is on fire!” I shot out of bed like a coiled spring, my eyes darting around the room, searching for the source. “Not here! It’s the villain’s room!” I knew this scene. It was one of Jack’s cruel games. The servants would be inexplicably deep in sleep, leaving Adrian to struggle for his life alone. He would painstakingly drag himself to the door, only to find it locked from the outside. The “rescuers” would arrive at the last possible second, pulling him from the brink of death. “This fire is supposed to leave him with severe burns and disfigure his face,” the System said urgently. I was calmly pouring myself a glass of water. “Host, go save him!” I took a long, slow sip and yawned. “See? The timing,” I said, a slow smile spreading across my face, “is perfect.” 6 Thick, black smoke was already seeping from under Adrian’s door. I calmly inserted a key into the lock. It didn’t turn. “Host, stop trying! It’s key number 3!” the System yelled. Hearing this, I promptly inserted key number 4. “Let him cook for a little longer. The closer he is to death, the more memorable his rescue will be.” The System sounded like it was having a stroke. “Tell me when he’s dragged himself halfway across the room.” A moment later, the System’s voice was frantic. “He’s there! He’s made it halfway!” I pulled out key number 3. The instant the door swung open, I hunched over, my face a mask of panic, and plunged into the inferno. The smoke was a thick, choking blanket, but I spotted him immediately—a crumpled figure on the floor. His face and clothes were smeared with soot, his hands clawing uselessly at the polished floorboards as flames licked at the walls around him like hungry beasts. He was a wreck. When he looked up and saw me, his first instinct was to snarl, “Get… out.” His voice was a raw, animalistic rasp. I faltered for a fraction of a second, then lunged toward him, grabbing him by the shoulders. He tried to push me away. “Go…” His strength was gone, but I used the weak shove as an excuse to stumble backward, my face turned upward in theatrical alarm. “System, now! Drop the chandelier on me!” CRASH! The heavy crystal fixture slammed into my head, its jagged edges raking across my face as it fell, carving a deep, bloody gash from my temple to my cheek. While Adrian was still reeling from the shock, I grit my teeth against the (simulated) pain, hauled him onto my shoulder, and charged out of the room. “Host, what in the world are you doing?!” “I’m already here. Might as well get a disfiguring scar out of it,” I replied, my mind clear and exhilarated. “He’s going to feel so damn guilty about this.” As the System fell into a stunned silence, I carried Adrian to the top of the grand staircase. The commotion had finally been loud enough to rouse the “sleeping” servants, who were now making their way upstairs. The moment I saw them, I let out a sigh of relief, closed my eyes, and let myself collapse. But I didn’t hit the hard floor. Just before I went down, a pair of arms wrapped around my shoulders, pulling me into a protective embrace. I fell into a chest that smelled of smoke and ash, and I could feel the arms holding me tremble. “See? He’s worried,” I told the System smugly. “Host… you have no heart,” it whimpered. “Of course not,” I replied coolly. “I’m having a heart attack, remember?” 7 I woke from a deep, satisfying sleep to the sound of someone coughing. My eyes fluttered open and met Adrian’s. His face was pale and drawn with exhaustion. He had a fist pressed to his mouth, trying to stifle the coughs. When he saw I was awake, he tried even harder to suppress them, but failed. He signed shakily, his body wracked with spasms. “Are you… okay? Does anything hurt?” I stared at him, momentarily stunned. “Host, Adrian has been sitting by your side for two days and two nights,” the System said, its voice dripping with resentment. “There’s only one doctor in the mansion. He made the doctor treat you first, and neglected his own condition. He inhaled too much smoke. He’s probably going to have permanent lung damage…” A sudden wave of irritation washed over me. “System, who is your host? Me, or Adrian Thorne?” The System let the truth slip. “You’re the head of the Annihilation Division. You’re infinitely more dangerous than he is…” “So you do know who I am. Which means you also know I’ve dismantled more than ten systems with my bare hands.” The System immediately shut up and scurried away into the recesses of my mind. I raised a hand to rub my temples, trying to quell an unfamiliar flicker of annoyance. Before my fingers could touch my skin, another hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. Adrian’s eyes were dark pools of intensity as he stared at my face. A flash of pure fury crossed his features. “It will heal,” he signed, his movements firm and resolute. He released my wrist. “I’ll find the best doctors. I won’t let it scar.” I only then noticed the bandages covering the left side of my face, from my eye down to my jaw. The chandelier had done its job perfectly. “It’s okay. My face doesn’t matter,” I signed back, my expression soft, my eyes curving into a gentle smile. “As long as you’re safe.” Adrian froze, his lips parting slightly. He quickly looked away, but not before I saw the tips of his fingers curl into a fist on his lap. “I wasn’t going to kick you out,” he said, his voice a low murmur, before switching back to sign language. “You… you didn’t have to do that.” “I didn’t do it to stay.” I held his gaze, my own expression sincere and unwavering. “I came here for you.” After I finished signing, I beamed at him and formed a large, deliberate heart with my hands. Adrian’s pupils contracted sharply. He turned his head away, a muscle twitching in his jaw. But on his lap, his fingers slowly, almost imperceptibly, uncurled.

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1 My wife, the heiress, believes money corrupts men. She threw me and our critically ill son out, demanding I account for every cent. When our son’s heart condition worsened, I desperately used the emergency card Serena gave me. The PIN failed—repeatedly. She called instantly: “You parasite! $500 a month isn’t enough? How dare you steal from me?” “Harry made me change the password. You’ll get nothing more, Evan.” To save my son, I rushed home in the rain for my last savings—but Harry, her assistant and lover, blocked the door. “All Vance assets are under my control,” he smirked. “Taking even a penny is a crime.” I begged: “Leo’s dying. I need to save him.” Serena appeared, arm in arm with Harry, and pushed me away with her foot. “Stop your pathetic drama. It’s disgusting.” After ten years of love, something in me shattered. If she wants blood… then blood it will be. … My legs gave out from under me. With a trembling hand, I dialed the hospital. “Please,” I choked out, “just save my son. I… I’m on my way.” Before I could finish, a hand slapped the phone from my grasp. “So noisy!” It clattered to the marble floor, the screen instantly fracturing. My mind went blank as I lunged for it, but Harry’s polished leather shoe came down first. He ground his heel into it, the screen splintering into a spiderweb of glass. “A small lesson,” he sneered, his hand sliding down Serena’s waist. “If I catch you stealing again, it won’t be this simple.” He smirked, his touch becoming possessive. “What’s the big deal about one kid? If you want another, I can give you one right now.” “Oh, you,” Serena purred, hooking her arms around his neck and planting kisses on his face. She then shot me a look of pure ice. “What are you still standing here for? Get the hell out!” The image of my son, pale and struggling for breath in a hospital bed, forced the humiliation down my throat. “Serena,” I said, my voice raw and broken, “I’m begging you. Just lend me the money for Leo. He’s your son. Your own flesh and blood. Are you really going to watch him die?” For a second, I saw a flicker of something in her eyes—hesitation. She turned to Harry. “Maybe we should—” “No.” Harry pulled his arm from her grasp, his tone sharp as he sank into the plush sofa. “He’s having an attack, he’s not dead. What’s all the fuss?” He leveled a cool gaze at her. “And didn’t you promise you’d listen to me about everything?” His voice dropped to a suggestive whisper. “If you go soft on him today, just wait and see how I’ll punish you tonight.” “Okay, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry…” Serena melted instantly, curling into his lap, her hands beginning to roam. Harry’s laughter was triumphant, his eyes locking with mine in a blatant challenge. They started to move against each other, right there in the living room, the shameless sounds stabbing at my eardrums. I squeezed my eyes shut, a bone-deep chill spreading through me. Finally, I gritted my teeth. “Serena,” I said, each word a shard of glass. “Let’s get a divorce.” The air froze. Serena pushed Harry off her, her face a mask of annoyance. “Evan, who the hell do you think you are? You don’t get to ask me for a divorce.” She stood up, her voice dripping with contempt. “Don’t forget, the food you eat, the clothes on your back, even your worthless life—it all belongs to the Vance family!” Her words were a knife in my heart, and memories flooded back against my will. Serena and I were childhood sweethearts. When her family’s company went bankrupt, I didn’t hesitate. I gave her my entire inheritance from my parents to pull them through. She had cried in my arms, swearing, “Evan, from this day on, I will never betray you.” Now, looking at the fresh marks on her neck, a wave of nausea churned in my stomach. I could only bite down, hard. Seeing my silence, she let out a scornful laugh and patted my cheek. “Just be a good little dog and do as you’re told.” A profound sense of powerlessness washed over me. In my desperation, I scrambled to scoop up the loose change that had fallen from my pockets, making a break for the door. Harry shot up and kicked me square in the chest. The blow sent me flying backward. I crashed to the floor, a blinding, searing pain erupting from my ribs. “Are you deaf? You won’t touch a single cent of Vance money!” he snarled. With a flick of his wrist, two bodyguards materialized, seizing my arms in an iron grip. His smug expression was the final straw. “Let me go!” I roared, thrashing wildly. “If anything happens to my son, I swear I’ll kill you!” I wrenched one arm free and grabbed his tie, yanking him toward me. Serena snatched a heavy crystal ashtray from the coffee table and hurled it at my head. My vision exploded into blackness. Warm blood streamed from my temple, blurring the world. As the room spun, the last thing I heard was her cold, clear command. “Lock him in the basement. It’s time he learned a lesson.” They threw me into the darkness like a bag of trash. I slammed my fists against the heavy steel door until my knuckles were raw and bloody, but there was no response. Exhausted, I finally slid to the floor, all fight gone from me. The image of Leo’s pale face swam before my eyes, and the tears finally came. Clang! The door rattled open, and a bowl of reeking leftovers was shoved inside. “Hey! Dinner time!” a brutish guard I’d never seen before grunted. It was a lifeline. I scrambled to the door. “Sir, please! Please let me out!” I begged. “My son is dying in the hospital! I have to save him! Please!” The guard chuckled as if I’d told him a joke. In my despair, I reached out, trying to grab his pant leg. He recoiled instantly, then brought his boot down hard on my wrist. A muffled cry of pain escaped my lips. “Get off me, you filthy piece of trash!” he spat, kicking the bowl over. Foul-smelling food and sour liquid splattered all over me. He spit on the floor. “A man as pathetic as you might as well be dead.” The door slammed shut again, plunging me back into the stinking darkness. I sat there, paralyzed in the cold filth, as the last flicker of light in my soul died out. Sleep was a luxury I couldn’t afford. Through the night, I painstakingly pried open the grate of a ventilation shaft and began the agonizing crawl through the narrow passage. Sharp metal edges tore at my skin, leaving me bloodied and raw, but by dawn, I had made it to the hospital. My son was lying in his bed, his breathing terrifyingly shallow. Tears burst from my eyes as I stumbled to his side, gripping his small, cold hand. “Leo, Daddy’s here… Daddy’s here…” “Mr. Thorne, what happened to you?” The doctor entered the room and gasped at the sight of me, covered in blood and grime. But his expression quickly grew grim. “We managed to stabilize him last night, but his condition is critical. He needs surgery. Immediately.” “Then do it! I’ll sign whatever you need!” I grabbed his arm, my voice trembling uncontrollably. The doctor shook his head, his face etched with pity. “The family card you’re registered with has been frozen. The account is inaccessible.” He hesitated. “And the surgery, plus the aftercare… it will cost at least half a million dollars.” The words struck me like a bolt of lightning. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I couldn’t believe Serena, just to satisfy Harry’s lust for control, would be cruel enough to extinguish my last sliver of hope. From the bed, Leo must have sensed my despair. His voice was a mere whisper. “Daddy… don’t cry. Leo doesn’t hurt.” I shook my head violently, tears mixing with the blood on my face. “Don’t you worry, sweetheart. Daddy will find a way. I promise, I will save you.” My grief was so absolute that I didn’t notice the profound understanding in my son’s eyes, a wisdom that didn’t belong to a child. I missed the deep, heartbreaking reluctance in his gaze as he watched me leave. I ran back to the mansion like a man possessed. When I burst through the living room doors, the sound of sharp laughter died abruptly. Serena was curled in Harry’s lap, sipping champagne. The cruel contrast between their leisurely morning and my dying son ignited a firestorm in my chest. “Serena!” I screamed. “Are you even human? You froze the card? It only had a five-hundred-dollar limit!” She looked at me, a flicker of confusion in her eyes. “What are you talking about?” “I froze it.” Harry wiped his mouth with a napkin, his gaze dismissive. “This is what happens when you don’t report to me, Evan. Serena said five hundred a month, that’s it. As for that little bastard’s medical bills? You can go earn the money yourself.” I was shaking with rage, my eyes fixed on Serena. “You’re just going to stand there and let him murder your own son?!” “Harry…” Serena began, a hint of guilt in her voice, but he cut her off with a single, sharp look. “Are you getting soft again?” Harry stood, his voice grating. “You said I was in charge. Now this loser puts on a little sob story and you want to give him money? What about my authority? My pride?” Serena rushed to his side, placating him. “Don’t be angry, honey. Of course, you’re in charge.” I stood frozen, watching this grotesque farce play out. My heart felt like it was being physically ripped in two. My son and I… we were nothing more than props for her to appease her lover. Looking around the opulent room, a bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “My son’s life is worth less than this boy-toy’s ego.” I locked eyes with her. “Serena, you don’t deserve to be a mother.” “Shut up!” she shrieked, her face contorted with fury. She slapped me, hard. “If it weren’t for your pathetic tricks, I never would have gotten pregnant with that little mistake in the first place! If he dies, he has it coming!” Her monstrous words made the veins in my temples throb. I lunged at her, but the bodyguards were on me in an instant, pinning me to the floor. All I could do was roar in helpless fury. Serena smoothed her dress and took Harry’s arm. “Anyone who makes Harry unhappy,” she said, her voice a cold whisper as she passed me, “is just asking for trouble.” Harry tilted his chin up, his face a mask of smug satisfaction. “Stop begging like a dog, you waste of space. If you really want money, there are plenty of ways to sell yourself. Drop the act.” A cruel grin spread across his face. “In fact, I’ll send you somewhere you can earn some big money right now.” He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me out the door like a carcass. He took me to a private, members-only club owned by the Vance Corporation. “Do a little show for the ladies here,” Harry said, enjoying the terrified pallor of my face. “A little striptease, maybe bark like a dog. If one of them is in a good mood, who knows? She might just toss you enough for those medical bills.” Before I could fight back, his men shoved me into the center of a private suite. The humiliation was absolute, a physical weight that made every pore of my skin crawl. But the image of Leo, alone and fighting for his life, flashed in my mind. Under the glare of a dozen mocking eyes, I began to unbutton my shirt, my hands shaking uncontrollably. I dropped to my knees on the cold floor, my disheveled hair barely hiding the burning shame on my face. “Crawl!” someone shouted. The jeers and catcalls were like lashes on my back. Each movement was a fresh wave of degradation, threatening to crush what little was left of me. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. My dignity was ground into dust. The room erupted in laughter as banknotes rained down on me, hitting my face and body. “Isn’t that Mr. Thorne? How the mighty have fallen.” “What a loser. Can’t even keep his own wife happy. These kept men have no spine.” “I heard Serena Vance took her new boy-toy on a yacht trip. Dropped a hundred million in one night without batting an eye.” Every word was a poisoned dart. My son’s life was nothing to them. A joke. I crawled numbly from one spectator to the next, enduring their taunts. But no matter what I did, the money they threw was a pittance, a drop in the ocean against the mountain of medical debt. The alcohol they forced on me and the sheer exhaustion were making me delirious. I was about to pass out. I forced myself to gather the scattered bills, until Harry’s shoe came down, grinding my hand into the carpet. “Well, look at you. Willing to lose all face for that short-lived brat, huh?” He crouched down, yanking my chin up. “Since you worked so hard, I’ve got a little something for you.” A sense of profound dread washed over me. He produced a small, black wooden box and slowly opened it in front of me. Inside was a small pile of grayish-white powder. “You wanted to see your son, didn’t you?” he purred, his smile utterly demonic. “Might be hard to recognize him now that he’s just ash.” The blood froze in my veins. “No!” I screamed, a raw, animal sound. “You’re lying!” Harry leaned in closer, his grin widening with sadistic pleasure. “He was a smart kid, actually. Knew he was a burden. He pulled out his own oxygen tube. Guess he figured having a pathetic failure for a father wasn’t much of a life.” “AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” A tsunami of grief and rage annihilated my sanity. I exploded upward like a cornered animal, my fist connecting with Harry’s face in a sickening crunch. He shrieked, stumbling backward. The box flew from his hand, hitting the floor and bursting open. At that exact moment, the door to the suite was thrown open. Serena stood there. She saw Harry on the floor, clutching his face, and her expression turned murderous. She rushed to his side, her eyes full of panic and concern. Then she turned on me. “Evan! Are you insane?! How dare you touch Harry!” I stared at the blinding white powder scattered across the floor, my heart threatening to stop. I fell to my knees, uselessly trying to gather the dust with my bare hands. Tears mixed with the blood from my forehead, dripping onto the plush carpet. Serena grabbed a glass of champagne and smashed it over my head, her shrill curses ringing in my ears. I barely felt it. I was numb. “Crazy…” I mumbled, my mouth full of the coppery taste of blood. “Yes. I am crazy.” I looked up, my eyes a hellish reflection of a man with nothing left to lose. Serena flinched, a flicker of fear in her eyes as she stumbled back. In the next second, I snatched a shard of broken glass from the floor and lunged. “My son is dead,” I snarled. “And I’m going to make you both pay. Blood for blood!”

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1 They called me the Crimson River Killer. I was the prime suspect in the city’s most notorious string of murders, arrested by my own husband, Police Chief Marcus Thorne, and sentenced to death by lethal injection. Three years after my execution, the killings started again. The methods were identical, the cruelty just as profound. In Marcus’s new home, strange things began to happen. His new wife, haunted by spectral whispers and phantom touches, suffered a miscarriage, her mind unraveling. I thought, finally, they would reopen the case. Finally, my name would be cleared. Instead, the city whispered a different story. They said I was a plague that refused to die. “The killer’s methods are exactly the same as Victoria Livingston’s. It has to be her ghost, back for revenge!” “She went after a seventy-year-old woman and a three-month-old baby. She’s a monster!” “They should dig up her body and burn the bones to ash! Stop her from hurting anyone else!” Bowing to public pressure, Marcus himself brought a renowned spiritualist to my grave to perform an exorcism, to bind my restless soul. The old master, a Taoist priest named Master Wu, stood before my tombstone, his eyes closed. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice heavy. “There will be another victim today. We must find out how Miss Livingston truly died, and quickly.” … Marcus’s brow furrowed. He had been the one to witness my execution. The priest’s words made no sense. “What do you mean, truly died? Victoria Livingston was executed by lethal injection three years ago.” His voice was tight with impatience. “Master Wu, just bind her spirit. Then there will be no more victims.” The priest flicked the horsetail whisk in his hand. “The resentment here is suffocating. Miss Livingston’s death was not so simple. If you do not trust my judgment, Chief Thorne, then perhaps you should find someone else.” Marcus’s face darkened. Master Wu of the Azure Cloud Temple was eccentric, but his reputation was legendary. His unique ability to read memories from bone had helped police departments across the country solve countless cold cases. He was the only one who could quell the rising tide of public hysteria. The orders from above were clear: if Marcus couldn’t calm the city’s fears, his career as police chief was over. He had moved heaven and earth to get the old master here. He had no choice. With a deep, respectful bow, he said, “I would not dare. I implore you, Master, help me solve this case and bring peace back to our city.” The priest’s expression softened slightly. “Even you, the man who shared her bed, do not know the truth of her death. It seems a bone-reading is our only option. We must find the truth in Miss Livingston’s memories.” Marcus nodded and signaled for his men to begin, but a sharp cry stopped them. “Don’t dig!” It was his new wife—and my half-sister—Valerie. “Valerie, what are you doing here?” She was frantic. “No matter what Victoria did, she was my sister! I can’t stand here and watch you desecrate her grave!” Still weak from her miscarriage, she swayed on her feet. Marcus rushed to her side, his face etched with concern. “You’re too kind, my love,” he murmured, pulling her into an embrace. “Victoria’s ghost has been tormenting you every night, and still you defend her?” He stroked her hair. “I’ll have someone drive you home. You need to rest. Leave this to me.” Valerie shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “Marcus, you’re so invested in this. Is it because… you still have feelings for her?” He gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “How could I?” he said, his voice soft but firm. “She’s a serial killer who continues her evil even in death. In my dreams, I execute her a thousand times over.” He held her tighter. “Don’t worry. Once we have the truth, I’m sure Master Wu will ensure her malevolent spirit never finds peace.” I floated beside them, each word a dagger in my spectral heart. Valerie fell silent, finally conceding. “Alright. Then I’ll stay and watch the master work.” But I saw the sheen of cold sweat on her forehead, the flicker of panic in her eyes. Marcus waved his hand, and the two men resumed their digging. Soon, my coffin was unearthed, its heavy lid pried open. Inside, there was nothing but my clean, white bones. Master Wu reached in, his expression solemn as his fingers brushed against my skull. “Everyone, please close your eyes,” he instructed. “I am about to begin the reading. I will search Miss Livingston’s memories. No matter what you see or hear, do not make a sound. Any interruption will shatter the vision.” The small crowd obeyed without question. I felt the gentle pull on my memories, and my spirit sighed. The first image that bloomed in their minds was from high school. Marcus and I were freshmen. A boy in our class was teasing me about my single mother, yanking on my braids. Marcus, who sat next to me, kicked the boy’s chair out from under him, and the two of them exploded into a fight. Marcus won. He stood over the other boy and warned him that every insult would earn him another beating. In that moment, watching his fierce profile, my heart had skipped a beat. When he sat back down, I silently took a bandage from my bag and gently pressed it to a cut on his forehead. Our fingers brushed, and a blush crept up my neck. I noticed then that the tips of his ears were also red. After school, as I was about to leave, he grabbed my arm. I turned, surprised, and he looked at me with an earnest intensity. “Victoria, don’t be afraid. I’m here now. No one will ever bully you again.” I just nodded, a small smile playing on my lips, not pulling my hand away. The memory was sweet, innocent. No one could connect the shy girl in the vision with the monster she supposedly became. Even Marcus seemed lost in the past, a nostalgic softness in his eyes. It was Valerie who broke the silence. “We’re supposed to be looking for the cause of her death, aren’t we? This seems… irrelevant.” Her voice was laced with a subtle bitterness. “Marcus was so good to her, but she didn’t appreciate it. She chose to be a killer instead…” The vision shattered. When Marcus opened his eyes, the warmth was gone, replaced by a cold, hard mask. He turned to the priest. “Valerie is right. This memory has nothing to do with the case. Please, Master, search for another time.” Master Wu shot them a disapproving glance but complied, his fingers moving in a new, intricate pattern. The next memory was our wedding day. As we were about to exchange rings, gasps and screams erupted from our guests. We turned. On the large screen behind us, where a slideshow of our life together was supposed to be playing, was a video. It was me, holding a knife, plunging it into a victim. I stood frozen as plates and curses rained down on me. A shard of ceramic cut my forehead, and blood trickled into my eye. “So you’re the Crimson River Killer! The one who’s been terrorizing the city for a decade!” “Call the police! Arrest her! She deserves to die!” “Wait, isn’t her husband a cop?” “What a joke! A killer marrying a police chief…” In ten minutes, my life was destroyed. Our beautiful wedding reception was a scene of chaos. Marcus, my Marcus, snapped a pair of handcuffs on my wrists and led me away. My mother, watching from the front row, collapsed from a sudden brain hemorrhage and was rushed to the ICU. A pang of anguish shot through my soul. She had raised me alone, and this was supposed to be the day she finally saw me happy. In the back of the police car, Marcus wouldn’t look at me. His face was a stone mask. When we arrived at the station, a mob was already waiting. The Crimson River case had haunted the city for ten years. Now that they had a face to blame, their rage was boundless. They surged forward, kicking and punching me. The officers with us couldn’t hold them back. Marcus, his eyes red-rimmed, threw himself in front of me, trying to reason with them. “She’s only a suspect right now! We need to verify the authenticity of that video! Please, calm down! Trust us, we will get you justice!” A woman sobbed, her face contorted in grief. “My mother was seventy-seven years old! She worked her whole life, and I finally convinced her to retire. And then this bitch killed her!” Another man screamed, his voice raw with pain. “My son was three months old! He couldn’t even say ‘dada’ yet! She stabbed him twenty-two times! Victoria, are you even human?!” The accusations, the physical pain—it was too much. A roaring filled my ears, and the world went black. When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. Marcus was there to cuff me again and take me back to the station. This time, his face was a mask of agony. “Victoria, the experts have authenticated the video. The evidence is conclusive. Even if you don’t confess, you’ll get the death penalty.” His voice broke. “Tell me what I’m supposed to do!” Before they led me into the interrogation room, I met his eyes. “I am not a serial killer, Marcus,” I said, my voice steady. “Don’t you believe me?” He looked away, his own eyes filled with tears. “You promised,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “You promised no one would ever bully me again.” Another voice cut through the memory, shattering it. “I was there! I saw the video! It was her face!” “The psycho started killing when she was fifteen! She filmed every single one! She’s pure evil!” “Did you hear what she just said? Was she trying to emotionally manipulate Chief Thorne into faking evidence for her?” “Thank God he chose justice over his wife and put that monster down himself!” My spirit let out a bitter, silent laugh. No. That wasn’t it. I just wanted him to find the truth. Having been interrupted twice, Master Wu finally lost his temper. “I told you at the beginning to remain silent!” he thundered. “There are only three chances to read the bones. We have one left. If you break the connection again, the resentment will not be appeased. Can any of you guarantee that you won’t be the next victim?” The crowd fell silent, their mouths clamped shut in fear. The master placed his hand on my skull for the final time. My image appeared once more. I was a teenager again, my face young and unlined. But this time, my eyes were cold, dead—a chilling contrast to the shy girl from the first memory. It was a sunlit afternoon. I was following an elderly woman with silver hair down a winding alleyway. She finally noticed me and turned, her face creasing into a kind smile. “Are you lost, dear? Why don’t you come inside for a bit? After we eat, Grandma will help you find your family.” I nodded meekly and followed her into her small, tidy home. The moment the door clicked shut, I pulled a fruit knife from my sleeve and drove it into her heart. Again and again. Twenty-two times. She collapsed in a pool of blood, her eyes wide with a question she would never get to ask. How could a child be capable of such brutality? Someone in the crowd made a choked sound but quickly stifled it. The priest’s warning had been effective. Even Valerie, watching this, didn’t look as horrified as the others. Instead, a small, almost imperceptible sigh of relief escaped her lips. The scene shifted. I was climbing through a window, hiding under a bed. I waited until the couple had left and the grandmother was in the kitchen, then I crept out. I approached the crib, a terrifying smile spreading across my face as I looked down at the sleeping infant. I pressed a cloth soaked in ether over his small mouth and nose. And then, just as before, I stabbed him in the heart. Twenty-two times. Afterward, I covered his small body with a blanket, hiding the bloodstains. The women in the crowd wept silently. The memories flashed by, one after another—a decade of murder. Men, women, children, the elderly. The scenes were always the same: no surveillance, no physical evidence left behind. But the face of the killer in every memory, in every frame of the horrific videos shown at my wedding, was undeniably mine. It was Victoria Livingston.

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1 I accidentally slept with my arch-nemesis. I woke up and ran. But freakish fertility meant one night resulted in quadruplets. Before I could tell my family, mercenaries grabbed us and locked us in a private hospital suite. Sebastian Croft—the man I’d slept with—had crashed on his way to a party and was now in a coma. The quadruplets? Possibly his only heirs. His mother offered $400 million to keep them. My parents refused: “We’re poor but proud,” my father said. My sister Lily promised to help me raise them. As I nearly agreed, Sebastian’s voice rang in my mind: Take the money, idiot! Last time, your parents took 4 billion from my mother for our sons—then gave it all to your sister! Your father sold you to some backwoods town for 10k while you recovered, afraid you’d ruin Lily’s perfect life! I stared at his motionless lips, even pried them open slightly. Don’t touch me, moron! If you hear me—don’t be a fool again! … “Geri Bartlett, how could you have sex before marriage? I never thought I’d have such a disgraceful daughter!” My dad’s face was purple with rage, his finger practically touching my nose as he spat his words. My mom stepped between us. “Mark, times have changed. Don’t be so harsh on Geri. What’s done is done. We need to think about her future now.” She turned to me, her voice softening. “Geri, honey, we’re not rich, but we’ve always made sure you and Lily had everything you needed. I taught you from a young age that a person’s dignity is priceless. If you take that four hundred million, you’re essentially selling your children. We don’t do things like that. It’s immoral.” She patted my hand. “You’ve never been pregnant before, sweetie, you don’t know what to expect. I’ll take care of you. And after the babies are born, I’ll help you raise them.” Lily nodded eagerly. “I’ll help too, sis! I’m an elementary school teacher, so I can make sure we raise four little geniuses!” Just like Sebastian’s thoughts had predicted. A perfect prophecy. “And what about me?” I asked my mom, my voice quiet. She hesitated for a second. “Well, of course, I’ll look after you while you recover from the birth.” “And after that?” I pressed. “Do I just… not get married?” “After you have these kids, you can stop being so picky and get back to dating!” my dad roared before my mom could answer. She shot him a glare and turned back to me with a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to get married. You’ll have done the most important thing in a woman’s life. You can do whatever you want after that. Of course,” she added, “you’ll still have to work. Four babies will be a handful for your father and me, so you’ll need to earn money for formula.” Influenced by Sebastian’s mental tirade, I could suddenly see the superficiality in her words, the false comfort I’d never noticed before. My whole life, I’d seen my family in a certain light. My dad was a typical patriarch, ordering my mom, Lily, and me around without a second thought. My mom, though she enabled him, was gentle and reasonable. She never told me to “give in to your sister” and often praised me for being sensible and smart. Lily had always been my shadow, and even though we grew distant when she went to college out-of-state, she was still my sweet little sister whenever she came home. Had I been blind my whole life, or was Sebastian using some kind of black magic to mess with my head? “Geri, you’re not actually thinking about taking the money, are you?” Lily’s voice, suddenly sharp and shrill, snapped me back to reality. The jealousy in her eyes was a palpable thing. My mom’s face hardened. “Geri, you’ve only been working for a couple of years. Have you already developed such a taste for luxury? If you choose the money, I’ll be deeply disappointed in you.” I could understand her not wanting me to “sell my kids.” But calling me greedy for accepting a payment that would secure their future? That, I didn’t understand. My dad’s anger boiled over. He shoved past my mom, his hand raised to strike me. I flinched back instinctively. His eyes bulged. “You dare to dodge? You worthless girl! If you take that money, I swear I’ll break your legs when we get home!” Sebastian’s mental voice was frantic. Geri, can’t you see it? They don’t love you! My mother is waiting for your decision, and your own father is calling you ‘worthless.’ Has he ever called your sister that? I know it’s hard to accept that your parents don’t love you, but you have to wake up—for our sons! Take the four hundred million and live your life! “What happened to the children?” I whispered, looking at him. When they were old enough, they kept asking about their mother. Our eldest, the smartest one, figured out where you’d been taken when he was only five. He went to save you alone. The other three secretly followed him… and something terrible happened to all of them. The pain in his thoughts was so raw it was clear they had suffered immensely. I stroked my barely-there bump, a wave of protectiveness washing over me. My decision was made. My dad was still yelling. “What are you talking to this vegetable for? So what if his family has money? He’s as good as dead! You are not marrying him!” Mrs. Croft had finally had enough. “Mark Bartlett, my son is not dead. And I will see to it that he recovers.” My father deflated instantly, muttering under his breath, “Can’t even call a vegetable a vegetable anymore.” I almost laughed. He was just a paper tiger, all bark and no bite. I looked at Mrs. Croft, my voice firm. “Ma’am, I accept your offer. You can transfer two hundred million now, and the other two hundred after the children are born. And… if you’ll have me, I’d like to marry Sebastian.” I still wasn’t a hundred percent sure about Sebastian’s telepathic warnings, but one thing was certain: with money, I could build a good life. I could protect the people I wanted to protect. Idiot! You are not marrying me! My father exploded. “You crazy bitch! Are you out of your mind? For a bit of cash, you’re going to have a vegetable’s babies and then tie yourself to him for life? I don’t have a daughter so pathetic!” My mother’s face was grim. “Geri, don’t be so impulsive. You’ll regret this.” Lily couldn’t hide her malice anymore. She glared at me as if she wanted to tear me apart. Mrs. Croft looked me straight in the eye. “Geri, you’re willing to marry my son, even if he never recovers?” I nodded. “I don’t want my children to be illegitimate.” “Don’t worry about that,” she said smoothly. “I can arrange their story.” I shrugged. “Then I just want the money.” A man with a mouth as foul as Sebastian’s wasn’t exactly my dream husband. “Done.” Mrs. Croft transferred two hundred million dollars to my account on the spot. The notification sound on my phone was the most satisfying thing I’d ever heard. The room fell silent. My family stared, mouths agape. My father was the first to snap out of it. He lunged at me, his hand raised again. “You give that money back—Agh!” Before he could finish, one of the mercenaries had him in an iron grip. Faced with absolute power, my father began to tremble and beg. Mrs. Croft’s voice was calm but laced with steel. “Mark Bartlett, Geri is now the mother of my grandchildren. I will not allow you to harm her.” My mom, terrified, rushed to smooth things over. “Geri is our eldest! Now that she has all this money, why would we ever hurt her? Mark just has a temper, I’ll talk to him. You’re a powerful woman, please don’t hold it against him.” “See that you do,” Mrs. Croft said, dismissing them. “Now, please leave. My son needs his rest.” Mrs. Croft arranged a separate car for me. My father, still shaken, didn’t dare say another word. My mother grabbed Lily and offered me a few hollow compliments, but I knew better than to believe them now. Free from their control, I went straight to one bank and deposited a hundred million, then to another to buy fifty million in gold bars. The rest I set aside for a house. After a quick stop at a lawyer’s office, I had the Croft’s driver take me back to my parents’ home. I didn’t expect the complete change in attitude that awaited me. My father was standing in the living room, holding a belt, his voice stiff. “Daughter, you’re pregnant. I shouldn’t have tried to hit you. I’m here to apologize.” He actually started to kneel. “Don’t,” I said, stopping him. His face flushed. “So, you accept my apology?” I nodded. In truth, I was only there to pack my things and leave for good. I had to protect my unborn children, and whether my father’s apology was genuine or not was completely irrelevant. My mom beamed. “See, Mark? I told you Geri is the most sensible one. She never holds a grudge, especially not against her parents.” I’d heard her call me “sensible” a thousand times growing up. Today, I finally understood what it meant. It was a tool of manipulation, a way to make me feel guilty for wanting anything, for fighting for myself. While the “willful” Lily could live freely and be showered with all their love. Why? What made it fair? My mom wrapped an arm around my shoulders. “Come on in, Geri. I made your favorite, steamed crab.” It was another one of her moves, a desperate attempt to keep me under her thumb. But this time, it only exposed her ignorance. She didn’t even know I was allergic to crab. Lily loved crab, so we had it often, but I could never eat more than a few bites. The one time I got to eat a whole quarter of a crab was after I placed first on a major exam in high school. I got sick immediately. My mom gave me some cash and told me to go to the clinic myself. When I came home and told her I had an allergy, my dad called me dramatic, and my mom promised she’d stop making it. A day later, Lily whined that she wanted crab dumplings, and my mom prepared a feast. Before we ate, she placed a heaping plate of steamed crab in front of me. “This is just steamed, Geri,” she said kindly. “It’s light, and I washed it very carefully. You’ll be fine this time. You’re such a good girl, even sickness wouldn’t dare to touch you. Trust me.” I got sick again. This time, I quietly took an allergy pill and told myself she just didn’t understand allergies. If I was just more sensible, my allergy wouldn’t be a problem for the family. I had brainwashed myself like that countless times, all for a few scraps of their love. Thank god I was finally awake. At the dinner table, I picked at a bland plate of stir-fried bok choy while my family exchanged furtive glances. Lily finally broke the silence. “Sis, my commute is two hours each way now. It’s killing me. I’ve been wanting to buy one of those townhouses near the school. My birthday’s coming up, so you could just get me the deed as a gift, right? It’s not much, only twenty million.” A small, bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. This whole act was about the money. “I donated it,” I said flatly. “All of it. To charity.” Lily’s face contorted. “What? Two hundred million? You donated all of it? For twenty-something years, you’ve lived in this house, used our money, and you never once thought about giving back?” “You’ve lived here longer and used more,” I replied calmly. “Have you ever thought about giving back?” She was stunned into silence, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. My dad jumped to her defense. “Lily is different! She gives her salary to us, and she got that tenured teaching position. Her life is stable; your mother and I don’t have to worry about her. Besides, you’re the one who will marry out. She’s the one who’s going to stay and take care of us. It’s only right that she gets more.” So that was it. “Whose decision was that?” I asked. “Of course it was—” he started, but my mom tugged his sleeve. She gave me that practiced, phony smile. “You and Lily drew straws when you were little to decide, Geri. Don’t you remember?” I didn’t. And I suspected it was just another lie to justify their favoritism. I let go of my last shred of hope. I looked at my mom. “So you want me to buy Lily the townhouse too, right?” Her gaze flickered away. “Geri, you’ll have four hundred million after the babies are born. A twenty-million-dollar house won’t make a dent.” I laughed. “I’ll buy her the house. On one condition: we cut all legal ties. From this day forward, I am not responsible for your retirement or your care.” “You ungrateful child!” my father roared. “No, we can’t do that, we can’t…” my mother cried, slapping her thigh in distress. Lily, however, saw her opportunity. “Mom, Dad, I’ll take care of you. Look at her, the second she gets money, she wants to abandon you. Do you really think she’ll ever be a good daughter? That townhouse is in the city center; it’s an investment! It’ll only go up in value.” My parents hesitated. I wasn’t surprised. I placed a document on the table—an itemized bill of every expense they’d ever paid for me since birth. “The total on paper is less than five hundred thousand, but I know raising me took effort. So I’ll pay you two million, lump sum. After you retire, I’ll also pay you each ten thousand a month for the rest of your lives. If you live another ten years, you’ll get far more than twenty million. I can even set it up through an insurance policy if you don’t trust me.” They always said Lily, the teacher, was the stable, dependable one, while I, with my corporate job, was wild and unreliable. Fine. Let’s see if their “stable” daughter was more important than a guaranteed, comfortable retirement. Lily panicked. “Dad, Mom, she’s lying to you!” I was prepared. I coolly produced a checkbook and three copies of a contract I’d had my lawyer draft. “I can write the check for two million right now. The contracts are already signed by me. All you have to do is sign, and they become legally binding.”

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My husband is incredibly rich, but I don’t love him. Back in college, he moved heaven and earth to win over my roommate, Isabelle. Luxury gifts arrived one after another, and he once made a grand spectacle of delivering nine thousand roses to our dorm building. The rest of us in the dorm reaped the benefits, hauling armfuls of roses back to our rooms like we were raiding a botanical garden. But Isabelle remained completely unfazed. She even warned him, Damian Blackwood, to never show his face again. “He’s rich, and he’s not bad-looking. Are you sure you don’t want him?” I finally asked one night, a sheet mask clinging to my face. It was a question that had been bugging me for weeks. She had a face that could launch a thousand ships, yet she spent all her time with some upperclassman who was always working odd jobs. “No way. That type of man is too serious, too boring,” Isabelle said with a dismissive scoff. “If you want him, go for it.” I rested my chin in my hand, gave it a moment’s thought, and then nodded. “Alright,” I said. “I will.” 1 Isabelle’s expression shifted, but she said nothing more. After I finished my mask and washed my face, I headed downstairs. “She has a boyfriend,” I said, holding my umbrella out against the drizzle. I couldn’t help myself. Damian was standing under the dorm entrance, looking up at our window like a loyal puppy left out in the rain. He flinched, pushing the gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice laced with genuine apology. “I didn’t know.” Isabelle never even told him? His shoulders slumped as he looked down, about to toss the bouquet of black roses he was holding into a nearby trash can. It seemed like such a waste, watching the rain slick the dark petals. Black roses. My favorite. “Wait. Don’t throw them out. Give them to me.” He looked at the rain-soaked bouquet and gave a self-deprecating smile before handing them over. “Okay.” His white dress shirt was plastered to his torso, the wet fabric clinging to the hard lines of his abs. He was clean-cut, well-mannered, toned, tall, and surprisingly obedient. And most importantly, he was rich. Honestly, he was exactly my type. “Hey,” I called out as he turned to leave. He stopped, looking back with a lost expression. “I’m single,” I said, stepping closer and tilting the umbrella to cover him. “You should pursue me instead.” I wasn’t unattractive. I went to bed early, woke up early, and lived a disciplined life. I ran six kilometers every morning, ate healthy, and never missed my skincare routine. Far more guys pursued me than Isabelle, but I’d turned them all down. He took off his glasses, his gaze quiet and intense. Time seemed to stretch on, long enough for his assistant to rush over with an umbrella, long enough for his car to pull up to the curb. “Okay,” he finally said. 2 He took my number and left. I turned and went back upstairs. I’d looked into Damian Blackwood. He’d started his own company right after graduation, and it had been expanding ever since. Once he went back to inherit the Blackwood Group, he’d be obscenely wealthy. That’s why I could never understand Isabelle. Perhaps it was because my parents’ constant arguments about money had ended in divorce, but the most important criterion on my list for a partner was wealth. Money meant no fighting over bills and household expenses. Back in the dorm, Isabelle saw the roses in my hand, and her face soured. “You don’t have to worry anymore. He won’t be bothering you again,” I said, setting the flowers down and toweling my hair dry. I expected her to be relieved, but her expression only darkened. “You’re such a bitch,” she hissed. …What? Her voice was low, but it cut through the room, silencing everything. The towel slipped from my hand and hit the floor with a wet smack. I’ve never been one for violence, but in that moment, I slapped her. Hard. Neither of us was prone to losing control, but that day, her eyes held an emotion so intensely suppressed I couldn’t begin to decipher it. I didn’t want to. Our other roommates were horrified. Some tried to mediate, some held us back. One said I’d gone too far; another called Isabelle a hypocrite. But I truly didn’t understand. She said she didn’t want him, that his attention was a nuisance. So how, when I took him off her hands, did it become “stealing”? 3 She moved out of the dorm that day and we barely spoke again. I didn’t let it bother me. Some people whispered that I was immoral; others said the same of Isabelle. I still didn’t get it. She said his pursuit was a burden. She said no. So why was she angry when I said yes? But angry or not, she had no right to insult me. That, I couldn’t tolerate. I’d hear things occasionally—that she and her boyfriend were a perfect match, the campus power couple. People on the college forums were shipping them like crazy. Meanwhile, Damian and I started seeing more of each other. He wasn’t emotionally expressive, but he was impeccably polite and reserved, quickly becoming a hot topic on campus. I became a fixture at his side, and the rumors grew like weeds. I didn’t care. I knew what I wanted from the very beginning. On our wedding day, Damian was busy until the last minute. He finally arrived, standing before me in a perfectly tailored suit, looking less like a groom and more like a precision instrument that had just been calibrated. The wedding was extravagant. I didn’t recognize a third of the names on the guest list. I smiled for the cameras, my posture elegant, my performance flawless. I still don’t know how he convinced his parents to approve of me. There was no merger of family fortunes, no matching of social pedigrees. His parents were cultured, gracious people. They showed none of the disdain I’d expected, only offering us their sincere blessing. “We hope you will support each other and build a good life and marriage together.” Married life was comfortable. Damian was truly, obscenely rich. How rich? He owned companies all over the world, flew on a private jet, and signed deals worth hundreds of millions. Marrying him was the smartest decision I’d ever made. He didn’t understand romance, and he didn’t understand me. He never wrote me love letters or called late at night to say he missed me. On Valentine’s Day, he’d have his assistant send flowers. He was the quintessential stoic, all-business husband: calm, disciplined, and utterly unromantic. Perhaps he’d spent all his passion on Isabelle. Being with him was like being married to a money-making machine. “Your husband’s gone again? What’s the point of having all that money if he’s never home? You must be so lonely.” Lisa and I had been friends since childhood, but we’d drifted apart after I got married. The first thing she did whenever she saw me was complain about how little time Damian spent with me. I just smiled and took her for a ride on the private jet. How could I be lonely? The world was so vast, and I had my husband’s relentless work ethic to thank for the opportunity to see it. I could travel anywhere, anytime, and enjoy the absolute pinnacle of luxury. Lonely? Not a chance. 4 My best friend looked unsettled. She just shook her head. “I still think the most important thing for a couple is to be together, no matter what. To face the storms side-by-side.” …I didn’t get it. I was genuinely shocked. There were others who thought like Isabelle. But her words did leave a small sting. Was I the strange one in their eyes? “You’ve changed, Scarlett. You’re not the girl I grew up with anymore…” she said, her face flushing under my gaze. She huffed and left in a hurry. She was right. I had changed. At first, I’d take her on trips, cover all her expenses, and give her a supplementary card for spa days and shopping. But she always acted embarrassed, insisting on calculating her share of every cost, refusing to “take advantage” of me. No matter how many times I told her it was fine, no matter that Damian himself told her to spend more time with me and that he’d cover everything, she refused. My assistant would present her with a heavily discounted bill, and Lisa would stare at the price, her face tight with discomfort, then demand to see the original receipts, passive-aggressively suggesting the assistant was trying to scam her. Eventually, I stopped asking. My social circle had completely transformed after marriage. I was incredibly busy. Besides traveling, I enrolled in numerous classes—from floral arrangement and French to financial management. I studied diligently, not out of passion, but to ensure that if “something happened,” I wouldn’t leave with nothing. I’d heard that Isabelle and her college boyfriend had broken up. She was even working at a subsidiary of Damian’s company now. If he ever got nostalgic for his grand, dramatic first love and decided he wanted a divorce, I needed to be prepared. While getting half his assets was unrealistic, I intended to get as much as I possibly could. And once I got it, I’d need to know how to manage it. So yes, I was very busy. 5 I had just gotten back from a trip to Russia when Lisa came over. “Scarlett, your old flame is back! Your first love! And he’s super rich now.” Her eyes were gleaming. “You married Damian for his money, right? Well, now you can divorce him and marry Leo!” “He hasn’t contacted you all these years because he’s never gotten over you!” As luck would have it, Damian returned home the same day. He heard every single word. He stood in the entryway, his suit immaculate, his expression placid. There was no ripple of emotion in his eyes. Lisa spun around, her face instantly paling. She shot to her feet, forcing a nervous laugh. “Mr. Blackwood, you’re back… I was just joking, of course. Scarlett would never…” “I didn’t take it seriously,” he said, his voice calm. He walked in, still holding a gift box from his trip. “And I didn’t give it a second thought.” He lowered his eyes and placed the box on the coffee table in front of me. “You mentioned you wanted to try that mille crêpe cake from Hokkaido. I brought you one.” My gaze flickered, but my fingers didn’t move. My assistant always sent him my itinerary. He knew I was coming back today; he must have made a special trip. I knew his schedule was packed. Getting away couldn’t have been easy. “…Thank you,” I murmured. I heard his quiet “Mm,” and then he turned and went upstairs. I sat on the sofa, staring at the exquisitely perfect cake, and suddenly, it felt like I was chewing on sawdust.

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1 My husband was the long-lost heir to the Nordling family fortune. And when they found him, I was standing right beside him, three months pregnant. In the blink of an eye, he became a revered corporate successor. I remained the girl from a small fishing village. Everyone said we no longer belonged together, but Damian Nordling never seemed to care. I thought I was still his wife, legally and in every other way that mattered. It wasn’t until I heard he was engaged to the daughter of the Vance family that I understood the truth: our marriage had already been voided. Later, on the day I had an appointment scheduled for an abortion, a vision of a child suddenly appeared before me, like a projection on a screen. Her tiny face was scrunched up, her little hands open as she looked at me with tears streaming down her cheeks. “Mommy, I want to live… please don’t abandon me…” “I love the ocean, just like you! I’ll be your best diving buddy one day! I want to be your friend, Mommy!” I could see the child inside me? I placed a hand on my stomach, and an idea sparked. Fine. I’ll keep the daughter, and get rid of the father. … “Are you certain you want to leave while you’re pregnant?” Damian’s mother asked, twirling a string of pearls around her fingers, her expression hopeful. “Yes, I’m certain.” “Excellent. I will give you a generous sum of money. However, to avoid any complications, you must wait to leave until after Damian’s engagement in two weeks.” I nodded and signed the contract, a legal promise that I would never return to the city. The rain was pouring outside. When I got back to the villa, I could hear Damian talking with his friend, Preston, in the living room. “Damian, once you’re engaged to the Vance girl, what are you going to do with Lena? Send her back to that fishing village?” Damian frowned. “Of course not. She’s carrying my child. I would never send her back to a place like that.” A bitter smile touched my lips. The “place like that” he spoke of with such disdain held all of our happiest memories. Preston nodded. “Right, it is your kid, after all. Besides, for families like ours, it’s not unusual to have three or five women on the side.” “Still, that girl from the village really hit the jackpot. To think she’d just randomly pick a guy who turned out to be the long-lost Nordling heir.” “Latching onto the Nordling family… her ancestors must have done some serious good deeds.” He was getting more animated, completely missing the dark shift in Damian’s expression. “Preston,” Damian cut in, his voice cold. “I’ve told you before. She has a name.” The sudden chill made Preston uncomfortable. He mumbled a few excuses and left. I was hiding around the corner and ran right into Damian as he came looking for a drink. He froze for a second, then a small smile appeared. “When did you get back? You should have said something.” I knew what he was really asking. He was testing me, trying to figure out how much I’d overheard. I met his gaze, a rebellious spark of defiance flaring inside me. “Damian, are you really getting engaged?” A brief silence hung between us. He knew he couldn’t hide it anymore. “Lena, trust me. No matter what happens, I will always keep you and the baby by my side.” That wasn’t the answer I wanted. “But Damian, we’re already married. Why are you getting engaged to another woman?” I pulled out the marriage certificate I had always treasured and opened it in front of him. “Look, this is you.” As I spoke, our eyes fell on the document together. The people in the photo were still smiling brightly, but the name… Right. I had almost forgotten. He wasn’t “Liam” anymore. He was “Damian Nordling.” When he reclaimed his true identity, his old, fabricated one was legally nullified. We didn’t even need a divorce; the certificate was now meaningless. “Lena, don’t be like this.” Damian snatched the certificate, folded it, and pressed it into his palm. “Now that I’m back, I have responsibilities.” “My father had an illegitimate son, and his nephews are all circling, trying to get a piece of the Nordling empire. This marriage alliance is the only way for my mother and me to secure our position.” A tear finally escaped and slid down my cheek. He had his responsibilities. And “us” was no longer one of them. He patiently wiped my tear away, but his voice grew colder. “I can give you anything but marriage. What more could you possibly want?” I laughed. He was actually asking me what more I could want. 2 While Damian was out at a social function, I started packing. In two weeks, on the day of his engagement, I would officially leave the Nordling family. As I was about to book a ticket, the vision of my daughter appeared again. She looked at me anxiously, her little fists clenched. “Mommy, we can’t go back to the fishing village! Daddy will find us there too easily.” “What about Driftwood Isle, down south? It’s beautiful, the weather is perfect, and most importantly, it’s remote and no one will bother us.” My hand paused. I listened to her and changed my destination to Driftwood Isle. All that was left was to pick up my mother before I left, so we could start our new life together. A moment later, I came across a few old photos of Damian and me, and my mind was pulled back to our time in the village. Back then, he was Liam. He’d been brought to Seacliff Harbor by a distant relative of his adoptive family when he was about three. It wasn’t uncommon for people in the village to bring back children they’d had while working elsewhere, so no one suspected a thing. At seven, we were classmates. At fourteen, he wrote me my first love letter. At eighteen, to buy me a coming-of-age gift, he went out to sea with the fishermen for ten days and nearly drowned in the surf. The day he personally fastened the delicate hairpin in my hair, I finally broke down and threw myself into his arms. He just stood there, smiling like a fool, his hands hovering awkwardly, unsure where to put them. The image of him just now, his voice cool and distant as he urged me to accept my new reality, flashed in my mind. It was impossible to reconcile that man with the simple, earnest boy I once knew. It was only now that I truly understood. In just a few months, the intoxicating world of wealth and power had completely changed him. The person named Liam had died back in that little fishing village. I ran my fingers over the hairpin I had cherished for so long, and finally, I left it in the drawer of the nightstand. At midnight, Damian still wasn’t home, but he sent me a text. He no longer fussed over my health like he used to. Instead, he forwarded me a link: A Crash Course in High Society: Mastering the Rules of Etiquette and Survival… I scoffed. Lately, he’d been desperately trying to push me into his world, as if mastering these skills would somehow bring me closer to him. But I wasn’t him. I didn’t have the blood of the elite running through my veins. I would never learn to analyze stocks or appreciate fine art, let alone bake, taste wine, or coordinate designer outfits. My only passion was the vast, endless ocean and the freedom of diving. This time, I deleted the message. I would no longer force myself to learn things I hated. My baby, who had been quietly watching, clapped her tiny hands and gave me a thumbs-up. “Mommy’s finally woken up! Two thumbs up!” 3 A few days later, I went out to eat by myself. My appetite during pregnancy was insatiable. The vision of my daughter appeared again, wiping drool from her mouth as she pointed at the food on the table. “Mommy, I want that one! And that one… I’m not done with that, can we order another plate?” Just as I was enjoying my meal, a group of people walked in. Leading them was the very woman Damian was set to marry: Seraphina Vance. I had never met her, but one of her friends whispered in her ear, and her gaze immediately locked onto me. Before I could react, they had invited themselves to my table, seating themselves across from me. The girl who had been whispering spoke first. “Well, well, if it isn’t the little pet Mr. Nordling keeps at home.” Another girl chimed in. “I hear you’ve been causing quite a scene. Don’t you know how to be a proper mistress?” I laughed instead of getting angry. “Miss, do you have experience being a mistress? You seem awfully eager to give lessons.” “You—!” She was speechless, her face turning crimson. Seraphina, however, just smiled. Her arrogant eyes scanned me from head to toe as she toyed with the massive diamond ring on her finger. “You’re not a complete pushover, I’ll give you that.” She then casually gestured towards my stomach. “I can tolerate Damian having women on the side,” she said elegantly, “but I’m not fond of him having children. Why don’t you give the baby to me to raise? I promise I’ll treat it as my own.” “You’ve been with Damian for a while, you deserve some compensation. Name your price, and I’ll do my best to meet it.” Her condescending attitude was infuriating. I was about to get up and leave, but she blocked my way. “Miss Reed, I suggest you think this through. The child you bear may have the Nordling name, but it will be born to a woman with no official standing. At the end of the day, it will be nothing more than an illegitimate child. And I’m sure you know how difficult life is for someone like that. A loving mother plans for her child’s future. Surely you understand that?” Before I could reply, the little vision of my daughter shook her tiny fist. “Mommy, don’t listen to her! She only wants to raise me so she can get rid of you completely! Once she has me, she’ll abuse me until I’m dead!” I looked at Seraphina’s deceptively beautiful face and said firmly, “Thank you for your concern, Miss Vance, but I’ll raise my own child.” “Why are you being so difficult?” Seraphina dropped the facade, her face filled with contempt. “How could a backwater girl like you possibly raise a child properly? I hear your mother is just some lowly fisherwoman. Something born from trash will always be trash.” I had wanted to walk away, but the word “mother” rooted me to the spot. My baby’s voice piped up again, full of indignation. “This evil woman has such a nasty mouth! It’s okay, Mommy, Daddy’s almost here!” But I wasn’t waiting for Damian. I wasn’t waiting for anyone to save me. My blood boiling, I looked at Seraphina’s smug face, grabbed my water glass, and threw its contents squarely at her. “Ah!” she shrieked, just as Damian rushed in and pulled her behind him. He glared at me, a chilling frost radiating from him. The next thing I knew, he picked up a glass of soda from the table and poured every last drop over my head. 4 “Waaah, bad Daddy! That mean lady started it!” My baby was sobbing in my mind, but the people around us had already scattered, leaving only the curious eyes of the other diners, discreetly watching my humiliation. Damian’s words echoed in my head. “Lena, I’ve been too lenient with you. You need to reflect on your actions.” He hadn’t even asked what happened. He just punished me on behalf of someone else. No, not someone else. His fiancée. The Liam I once knew would never have let me suffer the slightest injustice. The Damian of today had become the very person to crush my dignity. I laughed at myself, grabbing a napkin to wipe the sticky liquid from my face. My phone rang. It was my mother. When I answered, there was only silence. My baby’s voice was frantic. “Mommy, go home, quick! Grandma’s collapsed! You have to see her one last time!” I rushed back to the village to find my mother breathing her last. She gripped my hand, her voice a thread. “Where’s… Liam? Why isn’t he with you? He promised… he’d take care of you for me.” I just sobbed and shook my head. There was no Liam anymore. “Lena… be happy,” she whispered, and then her eyes closed forever. A week later, after handling the funeral alone, I returned to the villa. The huge house was empty of Damian. The housekeeper stammered, “Mr. Nordling… went with Miss Vance for a dress fitting. T-tonight is their engagement party.” I checked my phone’s calendar. It was today. I also had 99 missed voice messages from Damian. His tone was softer, full of explanations. “Lena, I was wrong to do what I did that day. But I was trying to protect you. If I had defended you, Seraphina would have only hated you more, and she would have come after you even harder.” I didn’t want to hear it. The eighteen-year-old Liam would have fought for me, bare-fisted and direct. The new Damian’s way of protecting me was to help another woman humiliate me in public. Another message popped up. “My secretary said you went back to the village. It’s good for you to get away for a bit. You can spend some time with your mother.” My mother? Laughter and tears mingled on my face. The kind old woman who had treated him like her own son was gone forever. I sent the housekeeper away, retrieved the hairpin from the drawer, and went to their engagement party. It was eight o’clock when I arrived, just as the ceremony was reaching its peak. Damian, in a sharp suit, was gently sliding a ring onto Seraphina’s finger. I had rushed out without a coat and stood shivering at the edge of the crowd, clutching the hairpin. The diamond on the ring was blinding, its brilliance mocking my poverty. After the formalities, Damian raised his glass with the guests, their laughter weaving a warm melody. His eyes scanned the room and then, they met mine. His smile froze. He saw the black mourning ribbon pinned to my chest. He started to move towards me, but Seraphina pulled him away to greet another guest. As he was led away, he looked back at me and mouthed the words, “Wait for me.” I sneered. That was what I hated most about him. He was never completely evil, but his love was never pure either. I turned, handed the hairpin to a passing waiter, and said calmly, “Please give this to Mr. Nordling. And wish him a happy engagement.” Damian Nordling, from this moment on, we are strangers.

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The night before our engagement party, I found a crumpled business card in Aiden’s suit pocket. It was from some downtown lounge. The woman smiling sweetly from the card… was none other than his first love. The girl he always said he regretted losing. When I placed the card on the table in front of him, he casually tossed a receipt into the trash, barely glancing at it. “It was after a team dinner last night. My colleagues dragged me there. I stayed for ten minutes, tops.” When I didn’t say anything, he reached out and pulled me into his arms, his tone softening just a fraction. “You’ve always wanted to get married, haven’t you? Just be a good girl, and I’ll give you that next year.” I had to laugh. Aiden. As the heiress to the Hawthorne Corporation, I have a line of suitors stretching from Paris to the Upper East Side. I don’t need you. 1 He saw me standing there, silent. A smirk pulled at his lips, a cold glint in his eyes. He reached up and patted my cheek. “Struck dumb? Huh?” I brushed his hand away. A few seconds passed before I spoke. “I sent the engagement photos to my family group chat. They…” They weren’t exactly thrilled. “So you sent them.” Aiden cut me off without even looking up. He was always like this. Anything that mattered to me, anything about my family—he never bothered to listen to the whole story. He grabbed his car keys and headed for the door, completely ignoring the remedy I’d brewed for his hangover sitting on the coffee table. “Have to deal with something at the office.” “Oh,” I said. I didn’t chase after him, asking when he’d be back, not like I usually did. He paused at the door, slipping on his shoes, and glanced back at me over his shoulder. I was wiping my cheek where he’d touched it, scrubbing with a wet wipe until my skin was raw and red. The door slammed shut with a deafening crack, the force of it knocking our framed photo on the wall askew. A dull ache settled in my chest, but strangely, not a single tear fell. The sky had just turned a deep, bruised purple. I looked in the mirror, at the faint shimmer left over from my makeup trial and the cocktail dress he’d dismissed with a lazy “it’s fine.” Why should I let this night go to waste? I shot a text to my best friend, Maya, asking if she was up for our favorite rooftop bar. I was barely halfway through a glass of whiskey when she leaned in close. “Did you hear? Kate got back yesterday!” I’d seen that name so many times. Kate. Aiden’s first love, a secret he’d guarded for seven years. The person he would sneak off to see, even if it meant lying to me. So many of our fights, so many shattered dishes, had been because of her. She didn’t even have to be in the room. The mere mention of “first love” was enough to burn me. Aiden claimed matching tattoos were tacky. But the elegant Arabic script on the back of his neck was Kate’s birthday. Aiden scoffed at celebrating New Year’s Eve, calling it pointless. But the combination to his safe was the date Kate moved abroad. Every single upscale Italian restaurant he took me to? They were the same ones he used to take Kate to. He’d praise my cooking, telling me the soup was perfectly seasoned. Then I’d overhear him telling his friends, “It’s not as good as the one Kate’s housekeeper used to make.” He hated when I was “nosy” or “overbearing.” But tucked away in a hidden flap of his wallet was a faded photograph—of him, drenched in rain, holding an umbrella over Kate, expecting nothing in return. I pieced together their past from the details he tried so desperately to hide. I’d drive myself crazy wondering if I wasn’t pretty enough, if my family wasn’t powerful enough. Wondering why he treated me with such casual disregard. Across the table, Maya chewed on her straw, her eyes fixed on me. “The same night you found that card, someone saw him picking her up from the airport. They sat in his car for over forty minutes.” “My Josh was trying to keep it from me… he was afraid you’d have a meltdown before the wedding…” Maya’s fiancé, Josh, was Aiden’s best friend. They’d known each other since they were in diapers. “Annie, are you really going through with this? Is he worth it?” “I told you from the start he had someone else on his mind! You’re a Hawthorne, for God’s sake! What have you ever lacked in your life that you have to take this crap from him?” I tilted my head back and swallowed a mouthful of whiskey, the fiery liquid searing my throat. “Why else? I just hate to lose.” But this time, I had to admit defeat. I was learning that truly letting go doesn’t require a dramatic, soul-tearing scene. 2 Later that night, Josh came to pick up a very drunk Maya. “Babe, are you sure you’re okay? I can call your driver…” I just waved her off, a wave of nausea churning in my stomach. I used to watch them, so sickeningly sweet together, and then look at Aiden and me. We were like a business merger. Why? It was simple. He just didn’t care that much. Aiden himself had told me he hated how I always tried to manage things, that he found me clingy. And yet, he still set a date for our engagement. And like a fool, I thought that meant I was special. Turns out, he was just shopping for a trophy wife. I don’t know how long I’d been crouched there when a familiar, grating voice cut through the haze. I squinted, looking towards the neon glow of the bar’s sign. Aiden had his arm around a woman in a slinky slip dress and a thin cardigan, his touch impossibly gentle. “Kate, wait here, okay? I’ll get the car.” I stayed hidden by the manicured shrubs, my body curled into a tight ball. I watched him help her onto a bench, watched him pull out his phone to make a call. A second later, my own phone buzzed to life. His head snapped in my direction, his eyes unreadable in the dark. He waited, a full minute ticking by. I didn’t stumble towards him and throw my arms around him like I usually did when I was drunk. It was he who broke the silence, his brow furrowed in irritation. “Annelise!” He strode over, looming above me. I could see the tight line of his jaw, as if someone had deeply pissed him off. “Don’t you have anything to say?” I paused, then shook my head. “Get up.” He grabbed my arm, his face a frozen mask, and began pulling me toward his car. He didn’t ask a single question. Not why I was here, slumped on the pavement, drowning myself in alcohol. And I didn’t ask who the woman by his side was. The silence in the car was suffocating, a heavy weight on my chest. From the rearview mirror, Kate glanced at me. Her cheeks were flushed in a perfectly demure, picturesque state of drunkenness. “Aiden, I think I’m going to be sick,” she murmured. He cracked the sunroof, his voice softer and more tender than I had ever heard it. “You can’t hold your liquor, but you still act tough.” Kate let out a soft, breathy laugh, her words laced with flirtation. “But I was so happy today. What’s wrong with a few extra drinks?” “So many years, and you still love to boss me around.” They had been high school sweethearts. A seven-year history separated by graduation and distance. The first time the sight of her name felt like a physical sting was when I found her old selfies still saved in Aiden’s phone. “Just a cache-clearing error,” he’d said. I’d wanted to believe him. Everyone has a past, right? How could a seven-year-old high school romance still have a hold on the man who was about to become my fiancé? Back then, I was still confident. I was sure I was better than her. But the moment I started comparing myself to her, I had already lost. They chatted endlessly about the old days, their voices a low murmur in the front seat, while I sat in the back, completely invisible. Wind whipped through the car, blurring the familiar city lights as they rushed by. We passed the French bistro where we’d had our first date. The lights were still on. I remember my card being declined when the bill came. I was fumbling through my purse, flustered, when he gently pressed my hand down and paid. He must have thought I was shy, because he secretly laced his fingers through mine and held my hand the entire way home. My heart had hammered against my ribs. I thought, this is him. This is the one. My dizzy mind kept drifting back to the time before our engagement. When I was most in love with Aiden, I used to fantasize about what it would have been like if I’d met him years earlier. Later, when he was at his coldest, I’d find myself wishing we had never met at all. And now? Now, I felt nothing. When I blinked my eyes open, the car was parked in front of the villa. Kate was gone. Aiden’s arm was draped over the steering wheel, the cherry of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. “Annelise,” he said, his voice low. “Are you done with your little tantrum?” I sat up, confused. “I was with you picking out rings just this afternoon. Who was tonight’s performance for?” His voice was tight with suppressed anger. I had no idea what he was so mad about. The only thing I could think of was that I had interrupted his reunion with his long-lost love. “I didn’t ask you to come and get me.” He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “Oh? Then who were you putting on that pathetic, drunken show for?” “I wasn’t drunk.” My voice was quiet. “And even if you hadn’t shown up, there are plenty of people who would have been thrilled to take me home.” 3 Aiden’s eyes narrowed, his words dripping with venom. “Who? Some rich idiot you picked up at the bar?” He scanned me from head to toe, his gaze making me feel like garbage. “Annelise, use your head for once. Dressed like that, out on your own… what do you think a guy like that wants from you?” “If I hadn’t shown up, you’d have been somebody’s easy prey by now.” “If you want my attention, can’t you at least try a method with a little more class?” There was a time I’d drunk myself into the hospital, just hoping he’d show up and yell at me. Now I understood. That was just me, indulging in my own pathetic fantasy. “Aiden, you’re being overly dramatic.” He didn’t believe a word of it, his expression dark and stormy. “There’s nothing I hate more than a woman who causes a scene when she’s drunk. I don’t have time to clean up your messes.” Maybe it was the alcohol numbing my nerves, or maybe I truly didn’t care anymore. “Try this stunt again, and even if you have Josh call me, I’ll block you instantly.” “Fine.” I turned and walked away, my heels clicking on the pavement as I headed for the elevator alone. The next day, I woke up around noon with a splitting hangover. My phone was flooded with unread messages. But not a single one from Aiden. He was never one for texting, but I always found myself instinctively checking for his name first. Eventually, I just set his notifications to silent. To stop myself from being an idiot. Maya sent me a screenshot. It was a post from Kate, uploaded in the dead of night. A blurry photo of the city skyline. No caption. But there, among the likes, was Aiden—who never liked anything—with an instant reaction. And a comment: It gets cold at night. Dress warm. Suddenly, my doorbell began to ring, loud and insistent. I opened it to find Aiden standing there. For a second, I thought I was hallucinating. “What are you doing here?” My surprise must have been too obvious. Aiden’s lips twitched into a semblance of a smile as he poked my shoulder with his finger. “Here. Brought you something.” I stared at the bag in his hand—hangover medication—and said nothing. This was his pattern. A slap, followed by a piece of candy. But I was too tired to analyze it anymore. I took the bag and said, “Thanks.” “That’s it?” Aiden leaned against the doorframe, the faint warmth in his eyes vanishing in an instant. “Is there something else?” I asked. As if hell had frozen over, he actually offered an explanation. “I picked her up yesterday because I’m the only person she really knows here.” He stared at my face, his gaze so intense it felt like he was trying to bore a hole through me. “Annie, Kate and I are ancient history. We’re just old classmates now, that’s all.” “Don’t go looking for trouble where there isn’t any.” “I booked a table at that French place. I’ll make it up to you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to. It’s over.” “Besides, I already have plans today.” Aiden was visibly stunned. He probably never imagined I would refuse him. His face instantly turned to ice. “Suit yourself.” But what were the chances? The French restaurant he had booked was the same one where I had plans. Beside him, Kate batted her eyelashes, her voice cloying and sweet. “Aiden, why is your fiancée having dinner with another man?” My eyes met Aiden’s for a fleeting second before I looked away. He glanced at the man in the bespoke suit sitting across from me, his expression a perfect mask of indifference. “What’s it to me?” Kate giggled, her tone laced with meaning. “Not jealous at all?” “I remember back in school, you cornered a guy in the bathroom just for picking up my pencil.” “I used to say you were the reincarnation of the green-eyed monster. You even threw my notebook, remember?” You only get jealous when you care. Aiden could probably watch me sleep with another man and not even blink. His ocean had never stirred with a single wave for me. Then, at four in the morning, a notification popped up from our perpetually silent chat. [?] [Is that guy really your new flame?] [Did you seriously pick him up in a bar?] [Annie, you’ve grown bold.]

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