I’m Kenny Daniels, the nation’s top hypnotist and Valerie Nichols’ boyfriend. For five years, I’ve used my professional skills to help her navigate crisis after crisis, propelling her to the pinnacle of her career. But she’s always avoided discussing marriage. She tells me “I love you forever” one moment, then mocks me in front of her best friend Dianna Griffin the next: “Kenny’s terrifying. Who would dare marry a man like that? I even wonder if my feelings for him are just the result of his manipulation.” Finally, I grew tired of it all. Breaking my vow, I used hypnosis on her for the first time. She was horrified, knowing that if I wanted, she could willingly do anything. But I simply said calmly: “Valerie, look into my eyes and forget me.” ***** Valerie loves me deeply. But she doesn’t trust those feelings. Because I’m the nation’s top hypnotist. If I hadn’t helped her eliminate one business rival after another, her company could never have grown to its current scale. So she depends on me while remaining wary of me. I know it all. She once caressed my face tenderly, her voice soft and lingering: “Kenny, promise me you’ll never use your abilities on me. You’re the person I trust most—never lie to me.” My body trembled at her touch, and in that passionate moment, I looked into her eyes and solemnly promised: “Alright, Valerie. Unless you ask me to, I’ll never use hypnosis on you.” My voice carries a natural allure—a habit developed over more than a decade as a hypnotist. She melted in my embrace, intoxicated by my charm, unable to resist. I love her too, so I kept my promise and never used hypnosis on her. I even went back to study psychology, just so I wouldn’t need to rely on my professional abilities to understand her feelings. I held nothing back from her, hoping she would trust me completely. Until that young man appeared. She was unusually protective of the young man named Noah Harvey, refusing to let me meet him or even show his face. Dianna told me: “He’s Valerie’s new assistant, twenty-five years old. He’s always hovering around Valerie. She seems to have feelings for him.” I had promised never to hypnotize Valerie. But I never said I wouldn’t hypnotize Dianna. With a simple snap of my fingers, I put her into a deep hypnotic state. To anyone watching, she was just sitting on the couch having a normal conversation, her eyes showing no signs of being unfocused. Only I knew she was completely under my control. I stared into her eyes, my voice gentle: “Tell me, yesterday in the private room, why did you and Valerie immediately stop talking when you saw me come in? What exactly were you discussing?” I held my breath as I listened, but her words made my expression darken. She said: “Valerie said Kenny’s terrifying. Who would dare marry a man like that? Who knows if my current feelings for him are just the result of his manipulation?” This wasn’t the answer I wanted to hear. Five years ago, I first met Valerie when she was my patient. She had been framed in a business war, struck hard on the head with a thick rod. Though she survived, blood clots in her brain compressed her nerves, causing temporary memory loss. So she came to me, hoping I could help her recover those lost memories. She said: “You’re the nation’s most skilled hypnotist, charging a million dollars per hour. I hope you’re worth that price.” She had a stunning figure, an aloof temperament, and exquisite features—unforgettable at first sight. Who wouldn’t take a second look at a beautiful woman? Especially such a thorny businesswoman. Hypnotists are human too, so I was no exception. I flipped through her medical records. Valerie Nichols, twenty-seven years old, suffered severe head trauma with nerve damage, losing a year’s worth of memories. I twirled the pen in my hand, the corner of my mouth lifting: “Please, have a seat.” A flash of wariness crossed her eyes—clearly she was on guard against hypnosis. But the moment she sat down, the hypnosis had already quietly begun. Half an hour later, the session ended. When she awoke, her eyes were clear and her brow furrowed—she had obviously remembered everything. I handed her a slip of paper with my bank account number: “Half an hour, five hundred thousand dollars. Just transfer it to this account.” But she didn’t take it. She lifted her clear eyes to look at me, emotions swirling in them, unable to hide her admiration. After a moment, she placed one hand on the desk, leaning forward slightly, her red lips curving upward: “What would you charge for a monthly retainer?”

With my assistance, Valerie’s company leaped from second-tier to top three nationwide within five years. Those five years also brought us closer, gradually nurturing romantic feelings between us. Two years ago, I began eagerly hinting to Valerie that I hoped she would marry me. But she always had reasons to deflect, from the initial “the company is still in its growth phase” to increasingly dismissive “let’s wait a bit longer.” I had always kept my promise, never attempting to use hypnosis to peek into her true thoughts. Even though I knew she remained wary of me, I never considered using this to lure her into dropping her guard. She loved me, but she was also guarded against me—these two things weren’t contradictory. Those in positions of power always eliminate all potential threats, even if that person is someone they plan to spend their life with. When I first fell in love with Valerie, I had anticipated such consequences, so everything was within my expectations. Valerie needed me greatly, and I once thought I had her in the palm of my hand. However, that boy who suddenly appeared by her side became the biggest variable. I had to know what kind of person he was, whether he would be easy to deal with. What surprised me was that Noah was neither a rich kid nor particularly exceptional in any way. He was just an ordinary boy. He was so ordinary that when I first laid eyes on him, I even fell into self-doubt. I actually lost to him? My prized hypnosis skills, the five years of fighting alongside Valerie—all of it couldn’t compete with an ordinary boy who had appeared less than two months ago? Noah and I stared at each other for a long time. That day I had made a sudden visit to the company, and he hadn’t had time to avoid me before I called out to him. The moment he saw me, he seemed flustered, but quickly composed himself, his eyes even showing a hint of defiance. He was also sizing me up—after all, everyone in the company knew I was Valerie’s future husband. After quite a while, Valerie finally appeared. Seeing me, she froze slightly, then calmly positioned herself in front of Noah, blocking our line of sight, looking at me with obvious wariness. “What brings you here?” she asked. Without waiting for my answer, she said quietly to Noah behind her, “You can go now.” Noah was very obedient, turning to leave almost immediately, like a dog following orders. Valerie’s and my gazes met in the air. She pressed her lips together, her expression far from pleasant. The atmosphere grew tense, neither of us speaking. After a moment, I suddenly smiled, raising the lunch box in my hand, my tone as casual as always: “I made lunch, including that fish you love. Thought I’d bring it over.” In that instant, she visibly relaxed, and despite her efforts to hide it, I caught it. “Thank you, Kenny.” She smiled and took my hand. “Come on, let’s eat together.” We walked into her office. After sitting down, I looked at her and thoughtfully brought up: “Who was that boy just now?” Valerie’s hand paused as she was opening the lunch box, then she smiled. “A new assistant.” She arranged the food and handed me a fork, her tone still gentle: “You made so much delicious food—aren’t you tired? You could just have Camila do this kind of thing.” I said, “Not tired. Now that the company’s stable, I don’t have much to do. I’m so idle every day that I can only spend my time making good food to keep you hooked.” I joked, “Otherwise, what if you decide I’m useless someday, fall for someone else, and break up with me?” Valerie’s expression stiffened slightly, then she reached across the desk to hold my hand. Her gaze was firm and serious as she looked at me: “Kenny, I will never leave you.” I looked back at her, smiling as I asked, “Then when will you marry me?” She slowly frowned: “Now isn’t the right time. I told you, I want to make Nichols Group the biggest, so they won’t dare look down on me. Kenny, you understand me, right? Even without marriage, we’re together every day now anyway. It’s no different from being married.” Her expression was earnest. If I hadn’t hypnotized Dianna and learned her true thoughts, I probably would have been fooled by these words. I calmly withdrew my hand, my smile polite and flawless: “Of course I understand you. It’s fine, I’ll wait for you.” Valerie finally relaxed and smiled too. She picked up a piece of fish, carefully removed the bones, and brought it to my lips. She said, “Kenny, this is why I like you—you always understand me.” Looking at her beautiful features, for that instant, I was indeed tempted to ask her what her true feelings for me were. But I held back. Now wasn’t the time. Her thoughts about me weren’t important—what mattered was her attitude toward Noah. I ate the fish she fed me, chewing slowly. I would wait, wait until the timing was right. Everything Valerie possessed, I had given her. If she dared betray me, then I would make her lose it all.

Because I visited Valerie’s company and met Noah, she finally became wary. So when she came home that evening, she was particularly clingy. Psychology tells us that people don’t do things without reason—there’s always a motive behind their actions. So when she initiated intimacy and wanted to go for a second round, I stopped her. I pressed against her approaching lips, looking into her flushed eyes. “Valerie, didn’t you say you’ve been exhausted lately?” She grabbed my hand, kissing me with urgent, forceful movements. “Kenny, when I’m with you, even when I’m tired, I still want this.” I smiled and rolled over, leaving Valerie kissing empty air. She tried to continue, but I turned my head away again. Because I kept dodging her advances, she finally began to frown. I stared at her, raising an eyebrow slightly. “This battle with Scott Group won’t be easy to win. Let’s sleep—you have meetings tomorrow.” The moment I mentioned work, Valerie finally stopped. She rubbed her temples, her voice weary. “Yeah, it’s been two years already. They have quite a few domestic enterprises—it’s hard to uproot them completely.” She took my hand. “Kenny, maybe now’s the time for you to step up.” I chuckled. “Who doesn’t know you have a hypnotist boyfriend? Scott Group won’t even meet with me. To get their secrets, I’d have to hypnotize their leader Joanna Scott, but we have no way of getting close to her.” Valerie’s frown deepened. After a moment of silence, she suddenly looked up and blurted out, “What if you tried approaching Joanna?” She shouldn’t have said that. Joanna, like her, was a powerful businesswoman. The intimate atmosphere vanished instantly. My expression darkened, and my voice unconsciously turned cold. “Valerie, are you asking me to seduce her?” “Just temporarily!” She grabbed my hand, explaining urgently. “As long as we can find a way to meet her outside the company and get her to lower her guard, with your abilities, you could hypnotize her. Sure, Joanna’s cunning and ruthless, but even if something goes wrong, I’ll save you when it matters!” My expression grew colder, and my heart sank bit by bit. Valerie’s words caught me completely off guard. In all these years, I’d dealt with so many people for her, yet she’d never said anything like this before. I said, “You could have Noah do it. As long as he can lure Joanna out, I can hypnotize her.” Valerie’s gaze suddenly flickered, her voice hesitant. “How could Noah be as experienced as you? He’s just a young man fresh out of college. This is dangerous—if Joanna discovers we’re behind it, Noah won’t be able to escape.” Watching her reaction, I finally became certain that her feelings for Noah had long since moved beyond mere attraction—she was probably already deeply involved. A woman liking two men at once—I’d seen it happen plenty of times. But I never thought it would happen to me. I let out a cold laugh, and with just one sentence, I made her face change color. “Valerie, even if you’re using me while guarding against me, you don’t have to make it so obvious.” I was never the type of weak man who depended on women. She knew this, of course. In these five years, though I loved her, I never lost myself. I’d do what I could, but things I couldn’t do—even if she got on her knees and begged—I wouldn’t agree to. I loved her, but I loved myself more. Therefore, she couldn’t completely control me, which naturally left her feeling insecure. She even worried constantly that I might hypnotize her. I refused Valerie’s request. I’d encountered Joanna long before I met Valerie. She’d built Scott Group into the nation’s second-largest company single-handedly. During the pandemic these past few years, even Valerie’s company saw declining productivity, but Scott Group remained standing strong. She wasn’t a simple character. She’d known for a long time that Valerie was targeting her, and might have already figured out how to deal with me. I couldn’t take that risk. Valerie was very displeased with my refusal. Perhaps because I’d been her equal all these years, unwilling to submit to her authority, she finally exploded.

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On the day George Watson convinced me to run away from our wedding with him, I saw a flood of comments appearing before my eyes: [Don’t do it, Hallie Taylor! The moment you leave, your brother Benjamin Duncan will kill himself.] [George can go to hell! You clearly have someone you like, yet you’re still messing with Hallie. You’re so vicious!] [Listen to me, Hallie, even if you stepped on Benjamin’s back, he’d be happy about it.] [Do you know how much pain the restrained and controlled Benjamin endures to avoid sleeping with you? I’m dying to see you two together.] [Hallie, look back. Benjamin is falling apart.] [Go to the basement now! Benjamin is already cutting his wrists.] I quickly let go of George’s hand and ran back. Benjamin looked at me in shock. “Hallie, you…” I hugged him. “Benjamin, do you like me?” The comments before my eyes were filled with excitement. [Yes! It’s non-blood-related sibling romance! We’re saved!] “What did you say?” Benjamin looked at me with disbelief. The basement was full of my photos, along with various strange props.

On the third Christmas after being brought back home, I jumped off the building and killed myself. My soul floated in the air, wanting to see how my father Matthew Ruiz, mother Serenity Ruiz, and brother Jackson Ruiz—who had always despised me—would cry in anguish and regret their past coldness toward me. But Matthew just shook his head coldly, telling my corpse that I was childish. Serenity pressed her lips together, looking relieved as if a burden had been lifted from her shoulders. Jackson shielded Claire Ruiz in front of him, preventing her from seeing my gruesome death. Still, Claire was frightened to tears, and the whole family rushed over to hold and comfort her. I stood there stunned for a long time, then laughed at myself mockingly before finally finding peace. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I was first brought back home.

Prologue Bid Farewell to the Past I traveled through time and space and became the heroine of sad romance fiction. On the day I cut my wrist, the hero of the fiction brought his first love home from abroad. He sneered and said, “Didn’t you say that you could tolerate anything as long as you could marry me? It’s just an appetizer, but you can’t stand it.” His first love said, “It was me who he loved. If you hadn’t threatened him with his mother’s life, he wouldn’t have been with you. Now it’s time to return him to me.” My mother-in-law, who has been saved by me, said coldly, “I will return the money to you. Can you let go of my son? It’s good for everyone if you get divorced.” I was not going to divorce. Because he was about to die.

True Love I had expressed my love to Ethan Grant, my brother, while I was slapped and left by him abroad. He left me to fend for myself. Eight years later, he drunkenly knocked on my door in the middle of the night. He hugged me and cried, “Jenny, don’t leave me behind.”

When my mom Sophia Barnes came to pick me up from school, that girl who’d been bullying me, Aurora Palmer, was standing on my head. “Could you tell me your name, young lady?” Sophia flashed her a composed smile. “Please don’t,” I desperately shook my head at Aurora. Unfortunately, she completely ignored my warning and smugly announced that her father was New York’s wealthiest man, Raymond Palmer. A week later, Sophia and Raymond’s wedding hit the trending topics.

On the day I, Zoey Snyder, left to study abroad, my boyfriend Joel Lakin personally drove me to the airport. On his way back, he hit someone. The victim was a terminal cancer patient who deliberately rushed in front of his car to scam him, but ended up losing her life. Joel, being kindhearted, not only took the initiative to compensate but also secretly brought the victim’s daughter, Isla Reid, home to care for her without telling me. Three years later, I returned after completing my studies. The first time Isla saw me, she frantically threw herself into his arms, as if she was terrified of me. When I questioned Joel, he said, “If I hadn’t driven you to the airport, I wouldn’t have killed her mother. We’re both responsible.” So I proposed breaking up and chose to marry my adoptive brother Kaleb Snyder, arranged by my grandfather Carlos Snyder. At the engagement ceremony, Joel acted like a madman trying to take me away, saying I was the only person he’d ever love in this lifetime. I sneered, “Joel, what makes you think I could possibly want you back?”

I’m the illegitimate daughter of a powerful figure in Washington, and my mother was his first love. To provide a kidney transplant for his other daughter, he brought me back from overseas. The first time I met her, she cried and threw herself at me, but whispered in my ear: “You bitch!” Then she pushed me away and deliberately fell down the stairs. My biological father slapped me hard across the face: “You’re as vicious as your mother.” He still doesn’t know that my mother is already dead.

Eight Christmases ago, my boyfriend Liam Mitchell held my hand and said, “Once I make it with my startup, I’ll give you the good life you deserve.” To support him, I gave him all my savings, sold my house, and even racked up millions in debt. We crammed into a rundown rental that cost fifteen dollars a day, surviving on three part-time jobs. Until one day, I collapsed at the factory and was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. Just as I was debating whether to tell him the news, I received a livestream link from Eleanor Baker, his childhood friend. I clicked on it and saw Liam in a custom-tailored suit, slipping a ten-million-dollar diamond ring onto Eleanor’s finger under dazzling fireworks. The screen was flooded with comments. [Mr. Mitchell spoils Ms. Baker so much. That diamond ring on her hand could feed that beggar Caroline Thompson for ten lifetimes.] [When will Caroline’s livestream shut down? I just want to see her face when she learns the truth.] [Soon. They’ve already changed the stream’s name. Then we’ll get to watch her get brutally dumped.] With trembling hands, I clicked into the stream they mentioned, only to discover the camera had been focused on our cheap rental all along. Even the stream’s name had been changed to [Breakup Countdown: 3 Days]. It turned out Liam was never poor at all—he was the heir to Mitchell Group. These eight Christmases of my desperate sacrifices were just his carefully orchestrated reality show for the entire internet’s entertainment. But now, it was my turn to direct the ending. ***** My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I held my phone, watching the viewer count for the three-day countdown stream skyrocket. Liam had his arm around Eleanor, speaking with casual indifference: “Time’s almost up—just a few days left. When the moment comes, I’m going to dump that stupid woman without mercy. Want to make a bet? Let’s bet on whether she’ll jump off a building when she learns the truth. After all, she has nothing left now except me.” Every word pierced my heart with surgical precision, the pain so intense it triggered spasms in my stomach. Since Liam wanted to put on a show, I’d play along for these final fourteen days. Only this time, I wouldn’t let things unfold according to his plan. I didn’t return to the factory. Instead, I clutched that diagnosis and walked along the riverbank before heading back to the rental. The moment I pushed open the door, I was hit by the stench of mold mixed with dampness. Several cockroaches scurried away from the light, leaving tiny tracks across the moldy bedsheets. Liam hadn’t come back, as expected. Before, I thought he was busy with business meetings and deals. Now I realized that every time he stepped into this dump, his eyes held not exhaustion, but barely concealed disgust. Familiar stabbing pain shot through my stomach, but it couldn’t compare to the tearing agony in my heart. Eight Christmases ago, when I withdrew all my family’s savings to help Liam, my parents Matthew and Audrey Thompson were so furious they cut ties with me. Later, I even sold the downtown riverside apartment Matthew had given me when I came of age, transferring every penny to Liam’s account. That day, he held me with tears in his eyes: “Caroline, once my startup succeeds, I’ll buy you ten houses better than this one.” But through the livestream replays, I learned he’d immediately taken Eleanor to luxury boutiques and blown through all my money. He’d even said, “It’s not much, but we’ll make do.” Thinking about it now, I let out a bitter laugh. Last night’s livestream clips had gone viral. Liam became the “public’s ideal boyfriend,” and Mitchell Group’s stock price had doubled. My phone’s vibration snapped me back to reality. I realized the livestream in my room had been activated without my knowledge, with over a hundred thousand viewers. The screen was flooded with comments. [How did this woman get so filthy? She must actually be begging on the streets.] [Pay attention everyone, because there’s about to be a good show. Though I have to say, she’s got a nice body.] I clutched my clothes tighter, trembling uncontrollably. Following the camera’s angle, I looked toward the piggy bank on the broken wooden desk. It was the birthday gift Liam had given me on our first Christmas together. Just a clay piggy bank, worthless really. But I’d treasured it as a token of our love, carefully carrying it with me through every move. I never imagined it contained a livestream surveillance camera, clearly recording eight Christmases of my pathetic existence. Just then, urgent, violent pounding erupted from outside the door. The voice shouted: “Bitch! If you don’t pay rent today, get the hell out!” My heart seemed to stop, but searching my entire body, I found only a few dollars. Last week’s wages had been transferred away by Liam the moment they hit my account—he said the company needed them. When I didn’t respond, even more violent kicking and cursing came from outside. “I saw you come back with my own eyes. How dare you hide from me?” Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around myself and cowered in the corner, shaking. The pounding suddenly stopped, replaced by the sound of keys turning in the lock. The door opened. I stepped back twice, then saw Liam appear before me. He’d changed from his custom suit into a worn T-shirt, waving several crumpled bills in his hand. Liam said, “Caroline, I picked up a side job today and made three hundred dollars. I just paid the rent. You can spend whatever’s left however you want.”

Liam looked incredibly excited, as if he was genuinely thrilled about these three hundred dollars. With trembling hands, I took the three crumpled bills, tears blurring my vision. Eight years had passed. Now, his acting skills had become even more refined—I had never seen through them. Liam seemed to notice something was off with me, his tone almost deliberately enthusiastic. He said, “I earn money just to spend it on you, don’t I? Once my company takes off, forget this little amount—I’d give you three million dollars without hesitation.” I looked up at him, suddenly remembering a comment that mentioned Liam had spent thirty million dollars on Eleanor’s personal exhibition tomorrow. I stared into Liam’s eyes, my voice barely audible: “Could you stay home and spend time with me tomorrow?” Liam froze for a moment, instinctively glancing around the room. Just then, moldy wallpaper fell from behind me, crumbling into black debris at my feet. I clearly saw him frown slightly, a hint of impatience flickering in his eyes. He said, “Baby, I have to meet with investors tomorrow. This is crucial—it’s a matter of life and death for the company.” For all these years, Liam had used this same excuse, and he’d gotten increasingly smooth at it. He would disappear for a week at the shortest, sometimes for months. Yet after eight years of these “critical periods,” his company still hadn’t made any progress. If it weren’t for those livestream recordings, I would never have known that his so-called business trips were just shopping sprees, vacations, and even studying abroad with Eleanor. Now Liam couldn’t even remember my birthday, just habitually brushing me off. This familiar attitude broke my heart. I forced a smile and said, “It’s okay. Focus on your work.” “Alright, I’m going to take a shower first.” Liam nodded as if he’d been granted a reprieve, hurrying into the bathroom as if staying here another moment disgusted him. My phone buzzed—Eleanor had started a livestream. As if possessed, I clicked in and saw her sitting surrounded by luxury shopping bags. She laughed softly, “Someone’s asking what’s special about today. Actually, it’s not really a special day. “Liam just loves giving me gifts. He says every day we’re together is an anniversary.” She suddenly leaned closer to the camera, blinking sweetly: “He even mysteriously told me this morning that he’s preparing a huge surprise for me.” The screen instantly filled with comments full of envy and well-wishes. But a few harsh comments slipped by. [Just came back from that beggar woman’s stream. I’m dying laughing. She actually thinks Mr. Mitchell would spend a whole day with her in that dump.] [I’m so embarrassed for her. Mr. Mitchell is helping Ms. Baker with her exhibition tomorrow—how could he possibly have time for her?] I squeezed my eyes shut, unable to bear reading those cruel comments. I had spent eight years of my youth with him, exhausted my family’s fortune, and this was what I got in return. While I was lost in thought, the bathroom door suddenly burst open. Liam emerged, toweling his hair, carrying the scent of an unfamiliar body wash. He said, “Caroline, didn’t you complain about me not spending time with you? Tonight, I’m taking you to meet the investors.” Before I could process my surprise, a wrinkled dress was thrown into my arms. There were obvious foundation stains on the neckline—clearly Eleanor had worn it. My heart ached, but he simply helped me put on the dress. Liam took me to a luxurious banquet hall, then skillfully pushed open the door to a VIP room. Instantly, I was hit by the overwhelming smell of smoke and alcohol. I instinctively frowned and started coughing, but Liam pushed me forward. He said, “Go say hello.” Several sleazy men sat on the sofa. Their gazes roamed shamelessly over my body, making me tremble uncontrollably. Liam shoved a wine glass into my hand, saying, “Go toast them. Whether the project succeeds depends on tonight.” One of the men approached and refilled my empty glass. He leered, “How much we invest in Mr. Mitchell depends on your performance.” Amid the raucous laughter, I was forced to drink glass after glass. After two bottles, my consciousness began to blur. When rough hands reached for my thigh, I finally broke down. I pushed through the crowd and stumbled into the bathroom. I vomited until I nearly passed out, my stomach feeling like it was being stabbed with blades, the pain making me break out in cold sweat. Humiliation and despair overwhelmed me, and I couldn’t stop crying. After what felt like forever, my phone rang. I answered, and a man’s voice came through: “Is this Caroline? This is the oncology center at Central Hospital. “We’re currently recruiting stomach cancer patients for paid human trials of a new treatment. Would you be interested in participating?”

I agreed almost without hesitation. At Central Hospital, Wyatt Hughes showed me around the treatment facility and patiently explained the feasibility of the treatment plan. He said, “This treatment will take about a year. In return, after the experiment ends, we’ll pay you two million dollars in compensation.” I nodded quietly, my voice hoarse as I said, “I have only one request. Before the project begins, I need you to help me fake my death from stomach cancer.” Wyatt frowned slightly but eventually nodded. When I left the hospital, dawn was breaking. I looked around in confusion, suddenly unsure where to go. Just then, my phone, clutched tightly in my hand, began to vibrate. I answered the call, and Ellie Morris’s cautious voice came through: “Caroline, are you free today to help me with something?” These past few years, Ellie had found me many odd jobs, barely allowing me to make ends meet. “Sure, I’ll be right over.” I swallowed the words of refusal. I wiped the tears from my face and headed to the agreed location. The moment I stepped into the art gallery, an uneasy feeling washed over me. Walking into the exhibition hall, I saw Eleanor’s life-size standee. So this was where her solo exhibition was being held. She was like a ghost I couldn’t shake off. I stopped in my tracks, instinctively turning to flee. But then I saw Liam at a nearby display, struggling to move a massive painting. Sweat trickled down his jaw, soaking the custom suit I had bought him on installments over a year. Yet he didn’t seem tired at all, his face showing barely concealed joy. This was completely different from his attitude when I’d asked him to help hang laundry. Eleanor suddenly looked up and met my gaze, flashing a provocative smile. “Liam, don’t move,” she said, standing on her tiptoes to tenderly wipe the sweat from his forehead with her handkerchief, her movements gentle and lingering. Liam obediently bent down, letting her fingertips trace suggestively across his brow and lips. Watching this scene, a dull pain shot through my chest. Eleanor deliberately raised her voice while staring straight at me. She said, “Liam, if that beggar woman saw us like this, would she make a scene with you right here?” Liam hadn’t noticed my presence and only indulgently pinched Eleanor’s nose: “That would be perfect—saves me from planning how to break up with her.” My heartbeat and breathing suddenly became very light, as if something was slowly being stripped away from my body. The exhibition opening began. The crowd suddenly surged forward, pushing me back step by step. A woman said, “Look, everyone. That’s Mr. Mitchell and Ms. Baker. They’re so sweet together.” A man excitedly said, “Mr. Mitchell is going to livestream his breakup with that beggar woman tomorrow, right?” Another man said dismissively, “Yes. Over a million people have already signed up to watch. I really want to see that beggar woman who won’t leave Mr. Mitchell alone make a fool of herself.” The people around me were chatting excitedly. Every word pierced straight through my chest. I covered my face, afraid they’d recognize me. But as I turned to leave, someone deliberately tripped me, and I crashed onto the marble floor. At the same time, a bucket of dirty mop water beside me was knocked over in the chaos, and the filthy water splashed across my face. The dirty water ran down my hair into my collar, gradually soaking my entire body. When I tremblingly opened my eyes, everyone around me had stepped back, but they were all holding up their phones, frantically filming me. A woman said in shock, “Oh my God! How dare she show up here?” Another woman said, “She deserves it! She still dares to appear looking like that!” Their undisguised mockery drew a burst of laughter. I tried to struggle to my feet, but someone in the crowd shoved me again, and I fell heavily back to the ground. My palms burned with pain, and the marble floor beneath my hands was now stained with blood. A man shouted, “Look over there, everyone!” A piercing cheer suddenly erupted from the front, instantly drawing everyone’s attention. Through my vision blurred by dirty water, I saw Eleanor smiling radiantly like a flower, actively kissing Liam’s lips under the soft silver spotlight. Liam’s hands gripped her waist tightly. The two of them kissed passionately under the spotlight, like the perfect ending of a fairy tale. And I was covered in filth, like a discarded rag. Only after witnessing all this did I finally realize that we were never from the same world. My nails dug deep into my palms, but my mind was unusually clear. This absurd reality show had just one more day before it would finally end.

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After securing a guaranteed spot in Harvard, I decided to skip the SAT. The moment the school’s golden boy Clive Smolett heard that, he stormed over and punched me across the face. “Everyone else has to take the SAT! Why the hell do you get a free pass? “Is it because you’re scared you’re not actually the genius you think you are, and you’re afraid the whole campus will find out, huh?” In my last life, during the SAT, Clive’s essay was identical to mine—word for word. I asked the proctor—my own sister—and my childhood friend, who was in the same exam room, to back me up. Instead, they begged the school to go easy on me, saying I should be allowed to retake the test since it’s my “first offense.” By the time the scandal blew up, everyone cursed my name and accused me of being a “cheater” and “plagiarist.” And since I couldn’t prove I was innocent, I got expelled. To make things worse, they got me permanently banned from taking the test again. Mom and Dad were doxxed and harassed online. They lost their jobs and aged 10 years overnight. Their son went from being on top to hitting rock bottom. Depression hit hard. On a winter night, I took my life. But then, suddenly, I woke up—back to the week before the SAT. ***** “Denny, I made some avocado toast with smoked salmon. Eat first before you study. You’ve lost weight!” My sister Charlize Witt placed the plate on my desk, even taking the time to bring some blueberry protein smoothie. For a second, I nearly fell out of my chair in surprise. Just then, my best friend Geena Baxter walked in, setting another food container on my desk. “I heard you haven’t been eating much. Here, I made some hummus for you so you can eat well again.” I’d been through this before. Twice. In my last life, I thought I was the luckiest person in the world—I got a sister seven years older who always took care of me and a childhood friend who wasn’t blood but felt closer than family. But now that I was back in my life, their efforts just broke my heart. Back then, when I took the admission test, my essay was identical to Clive’s, down to the last word. The grading committee caught it immediately and reported it to the College Board. As a student who got recommended to be admitted to Harvard, I had a real shot at being the highest scorer in SAT. But the moment this incident broke, I was caught in a storm of public opinion. I begged Charlize, who was my proctor then, and Geena, who took the exam in the same room, to help me clear my name. But… they refused. My sister even apologized on my behalf, asking Payton College Preparatory High School to let me repeat the year instead of kicking me out since the “academic dishonesty” was my “first offense.” The incident sparked an uproar online. [I was like, ‘wow, he had the nerve to cheat,’ and then, turns out—his own sister was the proctor! That’s basically an inside job, right?!] [Exactly! Cheaters like this guy should be banned from taking the SAT forever! It’s only fair to everyone!]] [Absolutely! He wants to retake the exam? Dream on!] With all the backlash, the school shut down Charlize’s request. Not long after, the exam results were released. I, the school’s top student, barely scraped past 200 points. Meanwhile? Clive, the guy who always ranked at the bottom, miraculously became the state’s top scorer in SAT. His essay was even published as a model answer, praised by teachers across the state. And just like that, he became the revered genius scholar. And I became a cheater and plagiarist! Due to the severity of the “misconduct,” I was permanently banned from taking the exam. The school also refused to issue my high school diploma. Without a degree, my only option was to be a delivery guy. But customers would dump their orders on me and leave bad reviews just for fun. Because of me, my parents lost their jobs. The stress broke them. To pay their medical bills, I took a warehouse job sorting packages. Unfortunately, within days, my boss recognized me. He refused to pay me and even threw me out onto the street. With no money and hope left, I lost all reason to keep going.   On a snowy night, in complete despair, I plunged into a lake on the verge of freezing over. But when I opened my eyes again, I found myself back in the week leading up to my college entrance exams. Staring at my sister, who was meticulously helping me prepare, and my childhood friend, who was eagerly trying to nourish me back to health, I felt a mix of emotions. “Denny, I made a list of all the possible essay prompts. If you study these, I guarantee you’ll get the perfect score!” Charlize said confidently as she placed a neatly compiled list of topics in front of me. Next to her, Geena teased me. “You better land that top spot, Denny. I’ve been feeding you hummus all week—don’t embarrass the chickpeas and tahini!” It was meant to be a joke, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh. Charlize was my sister—she’d never stab me in the back. Geena had grown up with me—she had always been sharp-tongued but fiercely protective. In fact, once, someone talked shit about me, and she nearly got into a fight over it. So it couldn’t have been them. Then where did it all go wrong? I had been an outstanding student my whole life, consistently ranking first in my grade. Even after transferring to one of the most competitive schools in Illinois, I never dropped out of the top three. Mr. Carmichael, my homeroom teacher, even bet I’d land a spot at Harvard. That’s why, when the so-called academic dishonesty scandal broke, most of my classmates and teachers stood by me. I had won writing competitions before—I had no reason to cheat and plagiarize. But then, Clive leaked the security footage from the testing room. The video showed that he turned in his paper 10 minutes before I did. And before the test, he had posted his own “essay predictions” on his blog, breaking down the exact topic and themes. His essay followed the exact structure of his earlier post. For a while, the netizens’ nasty comments almost drowned me. [It’s caught in 4K! Denzel Witt straight-up stole Clive’s work! The evidence is undeniable, and that cheater still pretends he’s a victim?!] [I heard that that liar has always aced his class. Guess all his grades before were just stolen work that went unnoticed!] [Thank god his own sister and best friend didn’t cover for him. Imagine letting the real victim take the fall!] The scandal blew up so fast that it became trending.

The College Board took this matter seriously and immediately launched an investigation, analyzing the evidence Clive presented. After verification, the surveillance footage and blog posts were proven authentic, with no signs of tampering. They concluded that I was indeed a cheater and plagiarist. I was completely blindsided. I swear to god that essay was mine! How the hell was I the one who copied? But I had no proof to defend myself. And what I couldn’t figure out was—how did Clive’s essay turn out exactly like mine? Did the essay prompts that Charlize predicted somehow get to him? Mystery after mystery surrounded me. But right now, Charlize and Geena weren’t acting suspicious. If I wanted answers, I needed to start with Clive’s social media. If I remembered correctly, his essay prediction post should have already been up. But with Charlize and Geena keeping a close watch on me, I hastily scribbled down a rough outline of an essay to make myself look convincing, then clutched my stomach. “I… I need to use the bathroom,” I muttered. Geena shot me an unimpressed look. “Seriously? You still have a lot to study, Denny. Charlize basically handed you the potential topics, and you’re still looking for ways to slack off?” Charlize quickly waved my friend off. “Hey, there’s still time; give him a break. As long as he follows my advice, he’ll do well.” But I didn’t have much time to uncover the truth. Once inside the bathroom, I locked the door and pulled up Clive’s blog profile. It was well-known that his parents were professors at Harvard, and thanks to his looks and connections, he had a decent online following.   I never really had much connection with Clive. But Charlize was a teaching assistant at Harvard and Stanford, so she had met Clive a few times. Once, I overheard her telling Geena that Clive was the definition of boyfriend material—unlike me, who was just a bookish nerd. My sister also said that if Geena were going to date someone, it should be a guy like Clive—wealthy and good-looking. At the time, I thought Charlize was just joking. But looking back now, maybe she actually meant it. Even so, I still couldn’t understand—why would someone like Clive, practically born with a silver spoon, go out of his way to screw me over? Just then, I saw his latest post on his blog. He claimed he had predicted the essay topics for the SAT and was sharing it with everyone. The moment I saw it, I froze. That was the exact topic Charlize had predicted for me! On top of that, Clive even posted his own so-called “unique” insights about it. Word for word, they were identical to the notes I had casually jotted down on my scratch paper. The comments were full of people hyping him up. [Damn, not only is he hot, but he’s also insanely smart and generous! He even shares his SAT predictions with everyone! What a true angel!] [Seriously! If I saw this topic on the test, I would’ve gone completely blank. Good thing I read his analysis in advance!] Predicting the same topic might just be a coincidence. But how could his essay outline be exactly the same as mine? The only people who had been in my study room were Charlize and Geena. It had to be them! A chill ran down my spine at that thought. I couldn’t wrap my head around why they would do this. Was blood and years of friendship really worth less than knowing Clive for just half a year? I sat on the toilet for an hour, thinking it over. Then I made up my mind—I had to take a different approach. I already knew the essay topic for this year’s SAT. In my last life, I got accused of plagiarism, but that essay was actually my best work. It scored high, but not a perfect score. This time, I was going to write the essay in Old English. Since Clive’s essay had been an exact copy of mine in my last life, I’d just rewrite the whole damn thing! No matter the final score, at least I could shake off the plagiarism accusations. Early the next morning, before Charlize woke up, I snuck out and went to Grandma’s place. To be honest, I was hesitant. Writing my SAT essay in Old English was not only ridiculously hard but also a huge gamble. The moment I arrived, Grandma handed me a bowl of oatmeal. “My sweet boy, what’s wrong? You look troubled.” I forced a bitter smile. “Grandma, if I don’t get into Harvard, are you gonna be disappointed?” She patted my head, her eyes full of warmth. “Silly boy, of course not! “I just want you to be happy, Denny. Even if you don’t get in, you still have me. I’ll take care of you.” Hearing those words, my resolve hardened. As I left Grandma’s place, I got a call from Charlize. “Denny, where the hell did you go? Geena brought you breakfast, but you weren’t there. Now she’s upset!” I replied flatly, “I went out to buy some study materials. I’ll be back soon.” I wasn’t planning on telling them about my new essay strategy. After all, they were the prime suspects in the plagiarism scandal last time. Instead, I headed to the library to rework my essay plan. It was also the perfect place to do some research. After hours of writing, I stretched and leaned back for a quick break. I was curious—what would happen to Clive this time?   Just as I was lost in thought, Charlize and Geena walked in. I was a little confused—How did they know I was here? The next second, Charlize placed a warm lunchbox on my desk. “Figured you’d be too caught up studying to eat, so I brought you something.” Meanwhile, Geena handed me a cup. “Coffee. Your stomach’s weak, so it’s decaf.” Their sincerity was written all over their faces. They didn’t look like they meant any harm. Had I been overthinking things? But if it wasn’t them… then who?

My mind was a mess, but I managed to squeeze out a smile. “Perfect timing! I was just getting hungry. Let me wash my hands first, then I’ll dig in.” With that, I grabbed my phone and headed to the restroom. But instead of going into the men’s room, I stopped by the sinks and opened Clive’s Facebook blog. Sure enough, he had a new post. [Guys, you won’t believe it. When I shared my predicted essay topics for the SAT, someone straight-up copied my outline! The predictions might not even be right, but that’s just nasty. Anyways, I’m reworking my entire essay plan.] Attached was a photo of a guy studying in the library. Anyone familiar with me could tell—that was my silhouette! Just who on Earth took that photo?! In the comments, someone asked what Clive’s new essay plan was. Clive replied. [I’d write it in Old English this time.] I froze. I hadn’t told anyone I was planning to write in Old English! Even if it was just a coincidence, why would Clive choose a style he wasn’t even good at? There had to be a spy around me! Was it Charlize? Was it Geena? Or… were they both in on it? But why? What were they after? Just then, someone patted me on the back. “Denny, what are you thinking about?” That scared the hell out of me. It was Charlize and Geena. Since I hadn’t returned, they’d come to check on me, worried something was wrong. Still on edge, I brushed them off. “Uh, you guys go ahead. I’ll eat in a bit.” The moment the words left my mouth, Geena immediately snapped, “Denzel, we went out of our way to bring you food, and this is how you act? “Don’t think I haven’t noticed—you’ve been acting all suspicious around us these past few days! Seriously, it’s like we’re being treated like enemies!” Charlize quickly stepped in, “Geena just has a sharp tongue but a soft heart—don’t take it personally. “We know you’re under a lot of pressure. We just wanted to look out for you.” I quickly replied, “I know you guys mean well. Maybe I should just stay in my dorm for the next few days. Save you the trouble of coming back and forth.” Geena rolled her eyes. “Fine, do whatever you want. It’s not like I enjoy babysitting you anyway!” With that, she dragged Charlize, and they stormed out of the library’s study room. Finally, I let out a breath of relief. At 10:30 PM, I returned to the dorm. The moment I walked in, I heard my roommates talking about Clive. I went over to take a look. They were looking at a photo—three hands holding up drinks in a toast. The caption read: [Love from my sisters!] I recognized those hands instantly—Charlize’s and Geena’s. Since when were they this close? And why didn’t I know about it? I pulled out my phone to check Clive’s Facebook friends. But I Charlize’s and Geena’s comments on his new update caught my attention first. [You will always be my number-one heartthrob!] [Don’t worry, Clive. We’ll make sure you top the SAT!]   I blinked, doubting my own eyes. But the moment I refreshed the page, the post was gone. Now I know—the plagiarism really was connected to them. Reaching that conclusion didn’t stir much emotion in me. As long as I knew who was responsible, handling it would be easy. Besides, I had no plans to go home before the college entrance exams. Without me around, they wouldn’t be able to help Clive plagiarize anymore. I could finally focus on studying. Or so I thought—until I groggily woke up in the middle of the night to see Atlas Carlisle from the bed next to mine tiptoeing as he sneaked through my notes. I snapped awake, my voice sharp with anger. “Dude! What the hell are you doing?!” Startled, he fumbled and dropped the notebook to the floor. “The hell are you yelling for? Don’t think I don’t know—you’re the one who copied Clive’s work! “Sharing a dorm with a plagiarist like you? It’s disgusting! “Dude, you’re already being nice by not kicking you out. And now you’re here yelling at me? Damn, you really are uneducated.” Turns out, Clive had deliberately led his followers to dig up my personal information and post it in the comments section. Within moments, I was drowning in an onslaught of insults! Even my socials were flooded with harsh comments. Some guy even stuffed a dead rat into my food delivery! With no other choice, I turned to Mr. Carmichael. In my last life, when I was falsely accused of plagiarism, he was the one who stood up for me, rallying my classmates to stand up for me. Though we ultimately failed back then, he was the only person I could turn to now. As soon as he learned of my situation, he immediately arranged a private study room for me to prepare for the exams in peace. I could deal with everything else later. Finally, that damn Old English essay I had been working on was complete. The SAT was in two days—all I had to do was write it out on the test paper. I let out a long breath of relief—only for Clive to drop another bombshell. [Just a little secret between us,] his latest post read. [I finished my Old English essay!] The attached photo was a blurred-out notebook page. But even with the censoring, I recognized the last few lines of the essay immediately. They were identical to what I had just written! And worse—his post had gone up 10 minutes before I finished mine! I completely lost it, ripping my notebook to shreds. Was I seriously doomed to be plagiarized in every lifetime? Dammit! I just wanted to give up! Then, out of nowhere, my teacher called. [Congratulations, Mr. Witt! You got an early admission to Harvard!] That meant… I didn’t even have to take the SAT! Seeing the news, my exhaustion vanished in an instant. I didn’t know why things changed in this life, and honestly, I didn’t care anymore. With this guaranteed admission in my hands, I was going to make sure Clive, the serial plagiarist, paid for what he did! I told no one about my admission or that I wouldn’t be taking the exam. The night before the test, I revised my essay one last time. Clive really enjoyed cheating and plagiarising, huh? Fine. This time, I’d let him steal my work to his heart’s content. When the final test ended, he was the first to walk out of the hall. Outside, a massive crowd had gathered, including a few live-streaming influencers. As soon as he stepped out, they rushed up to him. “Hey, you look pretty confident! Bet you did great, huh?” Before he could answer, Geena chimed in. “Of course! He’s our class genius, our top student! He even guessed the essay topic correctly!” The livestream chat blew up, full of praise, saying he was definitely getting into Harvard. Clive grinned in satisfaction—until a group of cops suddenly stormed in and cuffed him on the spot. “Mr. Smolett, you’ve been reported for involvement in illegal activities. Please come with us and cooperate for the investigation.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “398128”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #FamilyDrama #Rebirth #Betrayal #Intelligent #FalseIdentity #MaleLead