My wife and I were reborn at our own wedding, ten years in the past. Without a word of explanation, we both defied our families and friends, both demanding the ceremony be called off. After we went our separate ways, she wasted no time getting with another guy who’d been chasing her, and they moved overseas together. I kept my head down, grinding away as a simple programmer. Ten years later. Her new boyfriend had become a rising star in the international business world, a celebrated mogul with a future brighter than the sun. And I, in everyone else’s eyes, was still just a programmer at the same old company. She leaned into her man’s arms, a vision of sultry success, and looked down her nose at me. “Ten years, Finn, and you’re still the same dead-end programmer. Thank God I had the sense to cut my losses when I did.” I couldn’t be bothered with her smug, triumphant act. Not until my wife, a world champion, gently looped her arm through mine. That’s when Lydia shattered the wine glass in her hand. “Finn! I’m your wife! How could you let another woman touch you?” 1 We met again at the funeral of our old university professor, a decade after our rebirth. Lydia’s husband now was Grayson, the hotshot business mogul who’d just returned to the country. A crowd of fawning admirers buzzed around him, making him the undisputed center of attention. The service was about to start, but the funeral home’s A/V equipment was on the fritz. To keep things from falling behind schedule, I was crouched by the stage, troubleshooting the system. That’s when Lydia and Grayson made their grand entrance. A flock of our old classmates practically tripped over themselves to greet them, completely ignoring the somber setting. “Grayson, you’re a legend! Building an empire at such a young age.” “Heard you’re back to expand into the domestic market, Grayson. Don’t forget about us old friends, huh?” “Totally! I always knew you were different back in school. A cut above the rest.” “And Lydia, you haven’t aged a day! You look like you just stepped off campus. What a power couple.” Lydia couldn’t hide the smile blooming on her face. “Oh, you guys are too kind.” Seeing how much she lapped up the praise, the crowd doubled down, each person trying to outdo the other in their flattery. I rose from behind the console of equipment. “Could you show some respect? This is a funeral. Your racket is completely out of line.” Lydia’s brow furrowed the moment she saw me. “What is he doing here?” Most of the people here were old classmates. They knew that Lydia and I had been reborn at our wedding and had promptly, wordlessly, cancelled the whole thing. They knew our history. “Isn’t that Finn? What’s he doing behind the tech booth? Still a programmer after all these years?” “Man, to think you and Lydia were almost married. Look at you two now. Worlds apart.” A flicker of discomfort crossed Lydia’s face. She shot a nervous glance at Grayson. “That’s all in the past. Let’s not talk about it.” At her cue, everyone shut up and quickly changed the subject. I gave the equipment a final check, and seeing everything was working, I stepped back into the crowd. As I approached, Grayson let out a cold snort. “Still slinging code at that same little company, huh?” His words were a signal, and the pack pounced. “Yeah, Finn. Ten years and you’re still stuck in the same place?” “No wonder you never show up to the reunions. If my life were that pathetic, I’d hide too.” “Exactly. Lydia and Grayson missed them because they were overseas building an empire. You missed them because you’re a nobody.” I looked up. Lydia was dressed in a designer gown, a limited edition piece that probably cost more than a car. Her hair was swept up loosely, with a few tendrils framing her face, their tips brushing against a pair of diamond earrings. Every move she made oozed a calculated sensuality. Grayson stood beside her in a bespoke black suit, a watch on his wrist that screamed wealth. Together, they looked like they’d stepped right out of a luxury magazine. A perfect, untouchable pair. The barbed comments kept coming, and I shot them all an irritated look. “This is a funeral. Try to have a shred of decency for the man we’re here to honor. If you want to kiss their asses, wait until the service is over.” My words were blunt, and Lydia’s face tightened, ready to snap back. But Grayson held up a hand, stopping her. “Finn’s right. Let’s honor the professor.” He then turned his attention to me. “Look, the Dean mentioned we’re all getting dinner tonight. You should come.” “My new hotel is having its grand opening, so we’ll go there. It’s on me. It’s been too long since we all got together.” I was about to refuse, but then I remembered the Dean had called me last night. He’d specifically mentioned this dinner, telling me several senior faculty members wanted to meet me and that I absolutely had to be there. While I hesitated, Grayson’s voice cut in again, laced with a challenge. “What’s the matter? Too good for my invitation? Or are you afraid to show up?” I raised an eyebrow. Afraid? “In that case, I’d be honored. Thanks for footing the bill, Grayson.” My acceptance seemed to satisfy them, and the murmuring finally died down, allowing the funeral to proceed. As Lydia and Grayson walked past me to lay flowers, Lydia paused, her gaze dripping with condescension. “Look at you, Finn. Just look at the pathetic mess you’ve become.” Her voice was a low, venomous whisper. “If you had just listened to me, you wouldn’t be stuck as a dead-end programmer for the rest of your life, scraping by on a few thousand a month, struggling just to get by.” “We’re on different paths now, Finn. We have been for a long time.” Watching them walk away, I got lost in thought. Different paths? She had no idea. In our first life, Lydia and I met in college. We were each other’s first love. After graduation, we got married, just as everyone expected, and started our life together. But that simple, happy life didn’t last. Everything changed when Grayson returned from overseas. He had pursued Lydia relentlessly in college, but she’d chosen me. So, after we got married, he left the country. Just like in this life, he returned a decade later, a self-made tycoon, dripping with success. At the reunion party thrown to welcome him back, the way Lydia looked at him had changed. I tried to tell myself I was imagining things, that Lydia wasn’t the type of woman to betray our vows. But after that party, she quit her job. The collection of designer bags and clothes in our closet started to grow exponentially. On the day we were reborn, she hadn’t come home all night. When she finally did, her neck was covered in the faint, unmistakable marks of passion. That’s when we had our final, explosive fight. She threw her new Hermès bag right at my head. “I must have been blind to choose you, Finn!” she screamed, her face twisted with rage. “So what if I cheated? Look at this bag! Your entire pathetic salary for a year couldn’t even buy this! I’m sick of this miserable life!” Staring at her distorted face, all I felt was a deep, chilling sorrow. The truth was, our life wasn’t miserable. We owned our own home in a decent city, had a reliable car. My salary was more than comfortable, and with no kids, we lived well. But Grayson’s return had shown her a bigger, shinier world, and she’d gotten a taste of wealth and status. I could understand wanting a better life, but I could never accept her betrayal. After her tirade, she stormed out. She was so agitated, I was afraid she’d do something reckless, so I ran out after her. Maybe it was the guilt of being caught, but she couldn’t calm down. We were arguing on the street when an out-of-control truck came barreling towards us. The next thing I knew, we were both waking up, ten years in the past, at our own wedding. Even with everyone watching, we acted in perfect, unspoken agreement, cancelling the ceremony on the spot. After we split, she seamlessly transitioned into a relationship with Grayson, and they left for Europe together. And I went back to being a programmer, continuing down my path of software development. The only difference between this life and the last was that I was no longer just a “simple programmer.” I had a ten-year head start on the rest of the world. A decade of foresight. After the rebirth, I saw the coming storm of short-form video. I developed what is now the world’s most popular social media app, and my first move was to acquire the very company I used to work for. Once the money started pouring in, I began donating to my old university—new equipment, entire buildings, and a scholarship fund for underprivileged students. It was where my dream began; giving back felt natural. But I was always buried in work and hated the spotlight, so I never attended any of the university’s ceremonies or thank-you events. Besides the Dean and a few top administrators, no one knew who I really was. Today was the professor’s funeral. The Dean had called me last night, and after turning him down so many times, I finally agreed to his dinner invitation. Running into Lydia and Grayson was not part of the plan. But since it happened… I wasn’t the one who did something wrong. I wasn’t the one who should be hiding. After the funeral, the group headed for the hotel. Grayson and Lydia walked out, surrounded by their sycophants. A sleek, low-slung sports car was parked right at the entrance, and they headed straight for it. Gasps of awe rippled through the crowd. “What a machine. Only the best for Grayson.” “Isn’t that a limited edition? Of course he’s already got one.” “If I could own a car like that, I could die happy.” I tuned out their pathetic bootlicking and walked over to a row of shareable e-scooters. The World Championships had just ended, and today was the day my champion wife was flying home. After my driver dropped me at the funeral home, I’d sent him to the airport to pick her up. The hotel wasn’t far. A scooter was faster and would let me zip through traffic. Just as I reached the scooter bank, Grayson’s smug voice sounded behind me. “Seriously, Finn? All these years and you still can’t afford a car?” “A guy your age, riding a public scooter? I’m almost embarrassed for you.” “You know what, why don’t you ride with me? I’ll give you a lift.” He paused dramatically. “On second thought, never mind. Don’t want to get my seats dirty.” I unlocked a scooter and glided over to him, giving him a lazy, sidelong glance. “A car’s a tool, man. No matter how fancy yours is, we’re ending up at the same place. So stop barking. It’s annoying.” Without waiting for a response, I sped off. Halfway down the block, a thought occurred to me. I stopped, turned back, and grinned at Grayson’s thunderous expression. “Oh, and by the way, since your car is so precious, you probably shouldn’t drive it. You should carry it to the hotel, Grayson. Wouldn’t want it to get dirty.” …

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My phone buzzed relentlessly. It was the elite kindergarten’s parent group chat. Miss Collins, the head teacher, had tagged me with a photo attached. “Blair’s Mom, Blair was involved in a physical altercation in the classroom. You need to come to the school immediately.” My heart dropped into my stomach. I tapped the image. My sweet, tiny daughter was battered. Her face was bruised and swollen, and dried blood stained her pristine uniform collar. My fingers flew across the screen, trembling with rage. “Who did this?” A woman saved in my contacts as “Jax’s Mom” replied almost instantly. Her tone practically dripped with arrogance through the screen. “I told my son to do it.” Before I could even process the audacity of her confession, two more photos popped up in the chat. The first was a professional wedding portrait of her and my husband. The second was a candid family photo of me, my daughter, and my husband. “You filthy homewrecker,” her next message read. “Did you really think you could steal my husband and pop out a bastard child without consequences? You’re lucky I didn’t tell my boy to beat that little rat to death.” The group chat exploded. Notifications poured in like a landslide, every single parent dogpiling on me and my daughter with vicious insults. I grabbed my keys and sprinted to my car. While the engine roared to life, I sent a voice memo straight to my corporate legal team. “Execute the infidelity clause in the prenup. Draft the divorce papers. Chace leaves with absolutely nothing.” I took a sharp breath, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white. “And someone assaulted my daughter. No settlements. No mediation. I want them destroyed.” A penniless gold-digger who married into my family really thought he could keep a side piece and a secret kid on my dime? When I pulled up to the extravagant wrought-iron gates of the kindergarten, I spotted her immediately. Jax’s mom. Vanessa. She was holding court near the entrance, surrounded by a flock of desperate, social-climbing mothers from Blair’s class. “Vanessa, you kept that so quiet! If this hadn’t happened, we never would have guessed your husband is the CEO of Apex Holdings,” one mother cooed, practically drooling over Vanessa’s designer handbag. “Right? I knew you had an aura of old money the second I met you,” another chimed in. “We came out specifically to support you today. We’re respectable women. We can’t let some trashy mistress walk all over you.” “Exactly! The mistress’s brat deserved it. Jax is truly the young heir to Apex Holdings. Taking out the trash at such a young age, what a brave boy!” Even Miss Collins, the teacher who was supposed to protect my child, was busy kissing up to her. “I am so sorry, Mrs. Kensington,” the teacher simpered. “If I had known you were the CEO’s wife, I never would have scolded Jax. Please rest assured, I will handle this matter to your absolute satisfaction.” Vanessa soaked up the flattery like a sponge, tilting her chin up as if she were royalty. Chace had been a nobody for years. After we married, I handed him the reins to Apex Holdings, our family’s smallest subsidiary, just to give him something to do and pad his resume. I never imagined it would become the very currency this woman used to buy her little army of sycophants. The moment they noticed me walking up, the sickeningly sweet smiles vanished from the parents’ faces. They looked at me like I was a piece of garbage stuck to their designer shoes. Miss Collins marched right up to me, her face hardening into a cold sneer. “Blair’s Mom, the director has instructed me to inform you that as of today, Blair is officially expelled.” I locked eyes with the teacher, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “My daughter gets beaten on your watch, and instead of protecting her, you expel her?” The teacher rolled her eyes dismissively. “This is an exclusive preparatory academy. Every child here comes from power and wealth. Keeping a bastard child born to a mistress will only poison our school’s reputation.” My expression turned glacial. “I highly suggest you do a background check and find out exactly who the mistress is in this situation.” The words barely left my mouth before Vanessa lunged forward. Her palm cracked across my cheek with a blinding force. “You cheap whore,” she spat, her face twisted in ugly triumph. “You think you can strut around in front of the actual wife? You think popping out a little bastard gives you the right to steal my spot?” The sudden violence left my ears ringing. Before I could regain my balance, the other mothers started throwing verbal daggers. “Look at her. Dressed so nice, but she spreads her legs for married men.” “It’s always the quiet ones. They see a billionaire and suddenly they forget how to keep their knees together.” “Mistresses are a disgrace to women. And their spawn are even worse.” The commotion drew a massive crowd of onlookers from the street. People pointed, whispered, and pulled out their phones to record me. Someone actually spit at my feet. I calmly unbuttoned my custom tailored blazer, ruined by the scuffle, and dropped the twenty thousand dollar garment directly into a nearby trash can. Then I turned to face Vanessa. “You are causing a public riot and committing assault,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Are you really not afraid of the police?” Vanessa threw her head back and laughed. “The only one who belongs behind bars is you! I’m serving justice. Why should I be afraid?” She crossed her arms, smirking. “My husband runs Apex Holdings. I could take your miserable lives right now, and he would still make it go away.” The chorus of sycophants nodded in frantic agreement. “If you weren’t sleeping with her husband, she wouldn’t have hit you. You brought this on yourself.” “You should be groveling on your knees, begging for forgiveness. One slap was a mercy.” Vanessa’s eyes suddenly darted past me, landing on my parked car. Her eyes narrowed with pure, unadulterated jealousy. “You leech,” she hissed. “Spending my husband’s hard earned money without a second thought. A Rolls-Royce? A piece of trash like you doesn’t deserve a car like this.” She marched over to my vehicle, pulled a jagged house key from her designer purse, and violently dragged it across the glossy paint. The metal shrieked. She carved a massive, ugly phrase into the driver’s side door. “WHORE.” I glanced at the ruined paintwork and let out a dry, hollow laugh. “You are going to realize very soon just how ironic that word is.” My calmness pushed her over the edge. “Still running your mouth? Still mocking me?” she screamed. “I’ll make you spit out every single dime you drained from my husband!” She grabbed a heavy brick from a nearby landscaping planter and hurled it straight into the windshield. Glass shattered, raining down on the pavement. She didn’t stop. The headlights, the hood, the mirrors. She smashed everything in sight. Seeing her go feral, the other mothers decided they wanted a piece of the action. They grabbed loose stones, umbrellas, whatever they could find, and started bashing my car. One of them actually climbed inside through the broken window to slash the hand stitched leather seats. In a matter of minutes, a half million dollar luxury vehicle was reduced to a pile of scrap metal. I watched the frenzy with eyes as cold as dead winter. “I hope you all feel this enthusiastic when the bill comes due.” Nobody cared. They were too drunk on the thrill of destroying things. Suddenly, one of the women popped the trunk open and let out a loud gasp. “Look at this! She’s got a bunch of fancy stuff stashed back here!” Vanessa strutted over, dragging a large, framed painting out of the trunk. She sneered at the canvas. “A woman who sells her body for cash wants to pretend she appreciates fine art? How pathetic.” I took a step forward, my voice hardening. “The contents of that trunk are worth substantially more than the car. I highly advise you to put that down.” Those items were fresh from an exclusive Sotheby’s auction. I had just secured them when I got the text from the school, rushing over before I even had the chance to transport them to the vault. Vanessa’s face twisted with spite. “Trash like you doesn’t deserve beautiful things.” She slammed the painting over her knee, snapping the antique wooden frame, then ripped the canvas right down the middle. She threw the shredded pieces onto the dirty pavement and stomped on them with her high heels. An older man in the crowd, who looked like an art appraiser, suddenly went pale. “My god,” he stammered. “That… that looked like an authentic Renaissance master sketch. The opening bid on something like that is at least forty million dollars!” Vanessa didn’t even blink. “Forty million? So what? It’s my husband’s money anyway! I can destroy my own property if I want to!” Her sheer stupidity left me speechless. First of all, Chace was a nobody who married into my wealth. Secondly, even with the title of CEO, his gross incompetence had caused Apex Holdings to lose nearly half its market value. If he wasn’t legally tied to me, I would have fired him months ago. Yet these women were treating him like a god of Wall Street. Spurred on by Vanessa’s boldness, the other mothers began ripping boxes out of the trunk, smashing priceless ceramics and tearing up historical documents just for the fun of it. I couldn’t waste another second on these lunatics. My only priority was my daughter. I ignored the chaos and marched toward the kindergarten entrance. Suddenly, Director Pritchard, the head of the school, stepped out to block my path. He looked at me like I was a diseased rat. “Do you honestly think someone of your status is allowed on our prestigious grounds?” “I want my daughter,” I demanded, my tone lethal. The director scoffed. “She’s been expelled. The staff is gathering her belongings. She’ll be out shortly.” Right as he finished speaking, the heavy doors opened. A staff member literally shoved Blair out the door, tossing her backpack right after her. My little girl hit the concrete hard, bursting into terrified sobs. I rushed forward, dropping to my knees to gather her into my arms. I glared up at the director, venom in my veins. “Is this how your academy treats young children?” He looked down his nose at me. “She is the offspring of a homewrecker. We are simply taking out the societal trash. Is there a problem?” The parents clapped and cheered. “Director Pritchard is a man of morals!” “Exactly! We can’t let stray dogs mix with purebreds.” “She doesn’t need school. Just teach her how to seduce rich men, that’s clearly the family business!” Vanessa sauntered over, completely high on power. “See this? This is what happens when you cross the line. You and your little rat will spend the rest of your lives at the bottom of the food chain, exactly where you belong.” Director Pritchard turned to Vanessa, bowing slightly with a greasy smile. “Mrs. Kensington, if you are satisfied with how we handled this, perhaps you could put in a good word for our school with your husband? We are looking to expand, and the land adjacent to us is owned by Apex Holdings.” Vanessa crossed her arms, playing the benevolent queen. “Don’t worry. You did well today. I’ll have him sign the deed over to you.” The director practically glowed. “Thank you so much, Mrs. Kensington!” The other parents swarmed her again, shoving business cards and gifts into her hands. “My husband’s firm would love an exclusive contract with Apex…” “Please take this black card for our family’s luxury department store, completely unlimited…” Vanessa basked in the worship. She looked down at me, her eyes filled with toxic pity. “This is power. You thought spreading your legs would buy you a ticket to the top? I am the true wife. You will never touch this kind of glory.” She leaned in close. “I’ll give you twenty four hours. Pack your bags, take your bastard, and get out of this city. If I ever see you near my husband again, I will bury your kid alive.” Blair whimpered, burying her tear streaked face into my neck. “Mommy, it hurts. I’m scared.” Her voice was raw, trembling with a trauma no child should ever know. I pulled her back slightly to check her injuries. Beneath her torn sweater, her tiny arms were covered in vicious, bloody scratches. They weren’t just scrapes. Someone had dug into her skin with a pair of sharp craft scissors. The sight of her mangled skin broke something inside me. My vision blurred with red hot, agonizing tears. I looked up at Vanessa, a murderous aura radiating from my bones. “Your son did this?” She examined her manicured nails, utterly bored. “Don’t be so dramatic. You should be thanking me he didn’t aim for the throat.” The mob backed her up immediately. “She’s still breathing, isn’t she? Stop crying like a victim.” “You knew the risks when you decided to be a whore.” The director smiled down at a chubby, arrogant looking boy standing next to Vanessa. “Jax is a natural born leader. Rooting out evil! I’ll make sure he gets an award at assembly tomorrow.” The brat puffed out his chest. “I’ll beat her up every time I see her!” I was shaking violently, not from fear, but from a rage so pure it felt like ice in my veins. “Every single one of you,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise like a scythe. “You are going to regret this.” The crowd erupted into hysterical laughter. “Is she delusional?” “She’s powerless. Just a barking dog.” “If I were her, I’d throw myself into traffic out of pure embarrassment.” The insults rained down. The crowd mocked me, spat at me, pointed their cameras at my crying child. Vanessa stood tall, the conquering hero, a sickening grin plastered across her face. Then, the low, powerful rumble of engines cut through the chaos.

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I woke up five years in the future. Married to my ex-boyfriend, who was now a titan of industry. And pregnant with his child. But he seemed to despise me. When I tried to cook for him, he wouldn’t touch the food. “What did you lace it with this time?” When I offered myself to him, he just sneered. “Trying to get me in the mood just so you can shove another woman into my bed again?” I begged him to let us be a happy family of three. He looked at me like a wounded animal. “Are you trying to humiliate me with this baby again?” Goddammit. You’re telling me the baby isn’t even his? 1 Last night, Cole had gone at it until the early hours of the morning. The insatiable beast. He nearly took me apart. “Cole!” I called out habitually. “Get me a glass of water.” Silence. No one answered. The silk sheet slid off my body as I sat up, revealing the slinky nightdress I had on. For all his rough handling last night, there wasn’t a single mark on my skin. Wait a second. I stared down at my stomach in shock. What was this… gentle curve? I… was pregnant? The room was unfamiliar, a minimalist palette of white and gray, with luxury whispering from every detail. But I could have sworn… last night, I was with Cole in his tiny rental apartment. The rickety wooden bed had creaked and groaned under his relentless assault all night long… 2 In a panic, I instinctively dialed Cole’s number. “What is it?” His voice was cold. I bit my lip, feeling a rush of confusion and hurt. “Where did you go?” “The office.” “The auto shop?” A pause. Cole’s voice came back through the line, laced with an unnerving chill. “Are you planning to use my past against me again?” “What past?” I was completely baffled. “Don’t you work at the auto shop?” “And another thing, last night we were in your apartment. How did I end up…” Beep… beep… beep… Before I could finish, the line went dead. Cole had hung up on me. That bastard! I cursed under my breath. Just as I was about to call him back, my eyes froze on the screen. The year… was 2030. Five years in the future. My gaze drifted numbly to my rounded belly. The horrifying realization dawned on me: I had somehow time-traveled five years forward. And I was pregnant. An old photograph sat on the nightstand. It showed a vibrant, dolled-up me, standing next to a ruggedly handsome Cole in a tank top. Taking a deep breath to steady myself, I redialed his number. “Cole, we’re married, right?” “How many years has it been?” “How did my dad ever agree to let me marry you?” I was desperate to understand what had happened in those five years. But Cole seemed to hear something else entirely. He let out a bitter laugh. “Stella, are you trying to tell me you regret it all over again? This is the third time this month you’ve brought up divorce.” He paused. “And I’ve told you before, I won’t agree to it.” 3 “Who said anything about a divorce?” I asked, stunned. That face, that body, that… stamina. And now he was loaded? Why in the world would I want to divorce him? The other end of the line was silent. So silent I could hear the sudden hitch in his breathing. After a long moment, he said flatly, “Do whatever you want.” And before I could say another word, he hung up again. Seriously? When did this man get so moody? I probably spoiled him. You can’t spoil men. Knowing I was in my own home, at least, brought a small measure of relief. I decided to change and go downstairs. But when I opened the closet, I froze. It was an explosion of gaudy colors. Each outfit was tackier than the last. Ugh. This was my future self’s taste? I managed to find a relatively simple dress and slipped it on, then padded downstairs in my slippers. To my surprise, I found a familiar face in the living room. “Martha?” I cried out in delight. Martha had been our family’s housekeeper for over twenty years. Seeing someone I knew and trusted in this strange future was a huge comfort. “Perfect timing,” I said, linking my arm through hers warmly. “I was just about to cook a meal for Cole. With you teaching me, I know I can do it.” Martha’s expression was complicated. She hesitated, then whispered, “Ma’am… are you planning on making things difficult for Mr. Donovan again?” Making things difficult? Considering my disastrous cooking skills, that wasn’t an exaggeration. She tried to say more, but I cut her off. “I know Cole. Even if it tastes awful, he’ll force himself to eat every last bite.” 4 In the kitchen, I casually tried to pump her for information about the last five years. Five years ago, I had defied my family to marry Cole. After the wedding, he quit his job and started his own business to give me a better life. My father, despite his disdain for his penniless son-in-law, had secretly provided a lot of support in the early days. And Cole had more than proven himself. In just five years, he had transformed from a poor kid into one of the brightest rising stars in Crestwood. According to Martha, his wealth and status now far surpassed my father’s. “It’s just…” Martha began, her voice trailing off as she helped me with a chicken soup. “Ma’am, are you still seeing that boy, Jax?” “Jax?” I asked, stirring a pot distractedly. “Who’s that?” Martha looked stunned. “Your… boyfriend.” I nearly choked on my own saliva. Our eyes met. “I’ve been cheating?” Martha nodded, her face a mask of sorrow. “He’s a mechanic, too. You were so insistent on the divorce, you wanted to…” Her words were cut short by the sound of footsteps at the door. Martha fell silent instantly. I turned around and saw him. The Cole of five years later. His long legs were encased in tailored slacks, the cuffs of his dress shirt unbuttoned to the second button, giving him an air of rugged maturity. He was leaner now, his features sharper. Even knowing he was my legal husband, the sight of him still made me blush. “You’re… home.” “Yeah.” So cold. But then again, I was cheating on him with a younger guy. Why would he be nice to me? Taking a deep breath, I plastered a smile on my face and braced myself to clean up my future self’s mess. “You must be tired. Why don’t you wait outside? Dinner’s almost ready.” Cole’s eyes scanned the loose apron tied over my pregnant belly. His tone was flat. “I’m not hungry.” With that, he switched on the kitchen’s ventilation fan and turned to leave. “Cole!” I grabbed a spatula and hurried after him, my voice turning into an involuntary whine. “It’s almost done. I made all your favorites. Just try a little, please?” “I’m not hungry,” he repeated, and walked out. Beside me, Martha asked timidly, “Ma’am, should I… finish the food?” I sighed. “Yeah, let’s finish it.” 5 Dinner was ready. Four simple, home-cooked dishes and a soup. Cole, who had claimed he wasn’t hungry, was now sitting at the dining table. This is a good sign, I thought, and quickly placed a shrimp in his bowl. “Ma’am,” Martha whispered urgently from beside me, “Mr. Donovan is allergic to shrimp.” Damn it. I quickly snatched it back and replaced it with a piece of braised pork. But Cole didn’t move his chopsticks. He leaned back in his chair, watching me with a cool, detached amusement. “Go on. Tell me.” “What did you put in the food this time?” I stared at him, dumbfounded. “I didn’t…” Cole cut me off with a cynical drawl. “You’ve cooked twice this year. The first time, you put laxatives in my food. The second time, it was sleeping pills. All because I wouldn’t agree to a divorce. So, Stella, what is it this time?” I looked at him in disbelief, utterly speechless. “I really didn’t put anything in it.” To prove it, I frantically picked up a piece of meat and shoved it into my mouth. “See? It’s not poisoned…” “Ugh…” Cole’s face darkened. He reached out and tried to pry the food out of my mouth. “Fine, I’ll eat it, okay?” he snapped. “I’d eat it even if it was poisoned. You don’t have to do this.” I pushed his hand away and swallowed the chunk of meat whole. “It’s not poisoned, it’s just… really bad.” It had a greasy, gamey taste. Cole stared at me for a long moment. Then he sat back down. I could have sworn I saw the corner of his mouth twitch into a smile. He finally picked up his chopsticks. I watched his face intently. Sure enough, the moment the food touched his lips, even the stoic Cole couldn’t help but frown. But he had grown up poor. As bad as it was, he ate almost everything. Seeing him in a better mood, I decided to strike while the iron was hot. “Cole, I need to talk to you tonight.” His hand, holding the chopsticks, froze. “I’m busy.” His expression turned cold again. He set his chopsticks down with a sharp clatter. “I have to work late. We can talk some other time.” 6 I sat at the table, chin in my hands, lamenting my terrible luck. Five years of my life were a complete blank. It was no different from having my life cut short by five years. And on top of that, I had to clean up my future self’s messes and win back my husband. This new CEO version of Cole was moody and unpredictable, his temper turning on a dime. I sighed. Martha hesitated before asking, “Ma’am, are you… still planning on asking for a divorce tonight?” I blinked. “You thought I wanted to talk to him about a divorce?” “Well… yes, didn’t you?” Martha murmured, confused. “For the past year, you’ve been dead set on divorcing him. Every time you see him, you’re either forcing him to sign the papers or begging him to let you go.” I thought back to the ugly look on Cole’s face just now. So that was it. He had shut down and claimed he was busy because he was afraid I was going to bring up divorce again? That fool. 7 Cole worked in his study late into the night. I was dozing off waiting for him when I heard footsteps outside my door. They moved through the moonlit hallway and stopped right outside. Sleep vanished instantly. I grabbed my pillow and got out of bed. When I pulled the door open, I was met with Cole’s startled, vulnerable gaze. He froze, then slowly lowered the unlit cigarette from his fingers. “Cole,” I whispered. He gave me a complicated look, then rubbed his temples with a grimace. “I’m exhausted. Whatever it is, it can wait until tomorrow.” He turned to leave again. Gritting my teeth, I followed him, pillow tucked under one arm, and looped my other arm through his. Cole went rigid. I looked up at him. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m scared.” He turned his head away. Another rejection. “I have to work. I’m too tired.” “I won’t bother you,” I promised sincerely. “I’ll just sleep next to you. I won’t do anything. You won’t even know I’m there.” Cole didn’t speak, but I saw his Adam’s apple bob. “Fine,” he muttered. I happily followed him into his room with my pillow. The room was spartan. For a CEO, his room was surprisingly bare—just a bed, a wardrobe, and nothing else. Oh. And an old photo of me on his nightstand. I was about to take a closer look when Cole snatched it and stuffed it under his pillow. “I’ve been having nightmares,” he said gruffly. “The picture on the nightstand… it wards off evil spirits.” Right. Keep telling yourself that. Cole lay down with his back to me, clearly ignoring me. I hesitated for a moment, then slid in beside him and wrapped my arms around his waist. The next second, he flung my hand off. He rolled over to face me, his features cast in a sliver of moonlight, his expression utterly heartbroken. “Stella,” he whispered. “Are you just trying to seduce me so you can push another woman into our bed again?” He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to suppress a wave of raw emotion. “You went through all that trouble, again and again, just to leave me… just to go to him?” I was completely stunned. My heart ached for him. What on earth had I done to him over these past five years? I didn’t know how to explain, so I just reached for his hand. “Cole, can you please just trust me? I don’t want a divorce. We have a baby on the way. From now on, let’s just be a family, the three of us. Okay?” But my words seemed to strike a nerve deep inside him. He pushed me away, his whole body trembling. The anguish in his eyes was so thick it was about to overflow. “Stella, are you going to use this baby to humiliate me again?” Humiliate him? I suddenly remembered Martha’s hesitant, unfinished sentences. A terrible premonition crept into my heart. Oh, God. Don’t tell me… the baby isn’t even Cole’s. 8 I was so shocked I could barely speak. Cole wouldn’t look at me. He gathered his blankets, stood up, and prepared to sleep in another room. “Cole!” I finally found my voice. “I need to tell you something. It’s going to sound crazy…” “I’m from five years in the past. The night before I woke up here, I was with you in your old apartment. You were… a real bastard that night. We did it seven times.” “But that’s not the point. The point is, I went to sleep and woke up five years in the future.” I licked my lips, feeling his disbelieving stare on me, and nervously finished my sentence. “The person who cheated… that was the future me. The real me… I love you.” Dead silence. Cole stood there, his face unreadable, until the silence could no longer contain his fury. “Stella.” “Yes,” I answered quickly. “I’m listening.” A bitter smile twisted his lips. “So, the cheater was the future you, not the you standing in front of me right now, the one who just came from five years ago after sleeping with me in my apartment?” I nodded vigorously. “Yes!” If only he would believe me. But then Cole started to laugh. It was a cold, mocking sound. “Do I look like an idiot to you?” He pried my fingers from his sleeve, clutched his blankets, and walked out. “Get some sleep.” The door closed softly behind him, but the sound was deafening. I sat on the edge of the bed, dejected. I guess he had a point. If the roles were reversed, if Cole had cheated on me repeatedly and then told me it was his future self and that he had time-traveled from the past and wanted to start over… I’d probably slap him twice. Are you playing me for a fool? 9 I barely slept a wink. The next morning, I came downstairs with dark circles under my eyes. Cole had already left for work. Martha coaxed me into eating some breakfast. After much thought, I made a decision. I was going to the hospital. To get rid of this baby. I learned from Martha that Cole and I hadn’t slept together in almost a year. That meant this child could not possibly be his. I didn’t know why my future self had done what she did. But this baby could not stay. I made an appointment with an OB-GYN. However, just as my car turned off the main road onto a quieter street, a motorcycle screeched to a halt, cutting me off. The rider was a young man in cargo pants and a black t-shirt. For a split second, he looked just like the Cole I used to know. But when he took off his helmet, the face was completely unfamiliar. Handsome, rebellious, and unapologetically arrogant. He walked up to my car and tapped on the window with his knuckle. I could read his lips. He was saying my name. “Stella.” I rolled down the window. “Who are you?” The young man clutched his chest, feigning heartbreak. “It’s only been a few days and you’ve already forgotten me, sweetheart?” He reached out and pinched my cheek. “Is it because I haven’t seen you? I’ve been busy with a race. Don’t be mad. I’ll make it up to you today.” He raised an eyebrow, his smile wild and untamed. I had a pretty good idea who he was. “Jax?” “So you haven’t forgotten me completely.” I frowned, deciding to get straight to the point. “Since you’re here, let’s clear things up.” He grinned, putting on a show of listening intently. “Whatever we were before, it ends today. I have a family, and I am not getting a divorce. You’re young, you shouldn’t be wasting your time on a married woman. Let’s just leave it at that, okay?” The young man didn’t say anything. He took a couple of drags from a cigarette, then turned his head and blew out the smoke. He let out a soft, humorless laugh. “Tired of your toy, so you’re just throwing it away? Are you playing me for a fool, sweetheart?” I was about to respond when I looked up. Past Jax, I saw Cole standing down the street. I couldn’t make out his expression. All I could see was the shopping bag in his hand. It was from my favorite bakery. 10 A sudden, sharp pain lanced through my chest. “Cole!” I scrambled out of the car, the door bumping into Jax. He grunted in pain. “No conscience at all, have you, sweetheart?” But I couldn’t spare him a thought. As I got closer, I finally saw the look in Cole’s eyes. It was a mixture of indifference, disappointment, and a deep, wounded sorrow. He just stood there, watching me silently. It was clear this wasn’t the first time he’d seen something like this. “Here.” He held out the bag. His voice was low. “The cake you loved five years ago.” He watched me, his gaze intense, as if he was searching for something. “You still love it, right?” A bitter, acidic feeling rose from my chest. So, he had believed my “time travel” story after all. As I stood there, stunned, Cole’s arm remained outstretched, rigid. Finally, as if all the strength had drained out of him, he slowly started to lower it. I rushed forward and took the bag. “I love it.” To prove it, I pulled out the cake and took a bite. The frosting was sickly sweet. I smiled, but I felt like crying. “It’s delicious.” Cole smiled back. He said, “Stella, I was up all night thinking. You said you came from five years in the past. I can believe you.” Not I believe you. I can believe you. Even though the reason was flimsy, absurd, even though he was a man of logic and reason. He could still choose to believe me.

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Dominic is a control freak. He needs to know precisely when I wake up, when I eat, when I sleep, even when I go to the bathroom. He has me trained like a dog. His friend once asked me, “Has it ever occurred to you that your entire life is being controlled by that psycho, Dominic?” Dominic, with a faint smile, answered for me. “He hasn’t.” Alright, fine. If that’s how he wants to play. I told Dominic, “From now on, our curfew is 7 PM.” “And we need to have our phone locations shared at all times.” I started video-calling him eighteen times a day. I’d pull him into intimate photos, plastering our “love” all over social media, making a grand show of our relationship. I forced him to live inside my own web of suffocating, omnipresent surveillance and performance art. And then… he got off on it. 1 I was out of breath when I stumbled through the door at one minute past eight. The house was dark, completely unlit. I thought Dominic wasn’t home yet and breathed a silent sigh of relief. But in the next instant, with a soft click, the lights flooded the room. Dominic’s tall figure stood in the entryway, silhouetted against the blinding light. Like a ghost. “Noah,” he said softly, “you’re 1 minute and 27 seconds late.” The sudden light had already startled me. His whisper-soft voice sent a chill down my spine, and a cold sweat broke out on my back. I took a deep breath, trying to force down the metallic taste of blood that had risen in my throat from running so hard. “An old classmate of mine is in town, so a few of us got together. I was already on my way back at seven, but the traffic was insane. That’s why I’m a little late.” He gestured for me to sit on the low bench in the entryway, then knelt gracefully before me. His hand wrapped around my slender ankle. His fingers slid slowly upwards, gripping the sliver of skin just above my white sock. He lifted my foot with a gentle pressure to help me change my shoes. He looked up at me and smiled, a picture of innocence. “Then why didn’t you leave earlier? Or you could have asked me to pick you up.” My fingers, braced against the bench, trembled slightly. “I… I didn’t want to bother you. You had a long day at work.” “I really thought I could make it back before curfew,” I explained, my jaw tight. “I planned ahead, I swear. The mall is only a half-hour drive from our place… I never expected the traffic to be this bad.” He slowly slipped off my sneakers, his fingers squeezing the soft sole of my foot through my sock. I felt a tickle and instinctively tried to pull my foot back, but his grip on my calf was like iron. I couldn’t move an inch. He put my slippers on for me. “Are these old classmates of yours really that important?” he murmured. “So important that you can’t even come home on time?” “Did you not want to come home? Did you want to spend more time with them that badly?” “Was an old flame among them?” “Don’t be ridiculous!” I snapped, cutting him off. “Today was a one-time thing. I’ll be back before curfew from now on!” He ignored my outburst. He stood up, leaned in, and brushed his nose against my cheek. “Noah,” he whispered, “why can’t your eyes be only on me?” 2 I woke up the next morning in a fog. When I managed to force my eyes open, I saw Dominic leaning against the headboard, smiling down at me. “Good morning, my love.” He kissed me. As he leaned over, his hand brushed against mine. I flinched violently. Before Dominic, I never could have imagined that there were so, so many ways to torment a person, to make them break, to make them lose control of their own body, stripped of all dignity… all without a single act of violence. Seeing me recoil, he pulled me into his arms, comforting me. “Darling, how about we go to Finland for the weekend? I’ll have my assistant clear a flight path. We can take off after work on Friday. You can sleep on the plane, and we’ll fly back Sunday night.” He gently outlined a weekend schedule detailed down to the minute. “On Saturday morning, we can try the bread at a local private kitchen. We’ll go see the snow in the late morning, and then we can have a spa treatment in the afternoon…” Everything was planned to perfection. But the more he spoke, the stiffer I became. “I promised Chris I’d go to the comic convention with him on Saturday,” I said in a low voice. “I told you on Monday.” My words hung in the dead silence of the bedroom. After a long, terrifying pause, Dominic finally spoke. “You’re right, you did tell me. I forgot. I’m sorry, my love. You go have fun.” He released his grip on my waist, letting me go without a fuss. Just like a normal, ordinary boyfriend. With my back to him, I couldn’t see the blank, emotionless mask that had replaced his gentle tone. 3 On Saturday morning, I dragged my sore, aching body out of bed, buzzing with excitement. Dominic, shirtless, propped himself up on one elbow and watched me get dressed. Seeing me awkwardly trying to pull on my pants, he said considerately, “If you’re not feeling well, just tell Chris. You can rest at home. I’m sure he’ll understand.” If it weren’t for what he did last night… I stubbornly finished dressing myself. “I’m not tired. I feel great. I am absolutely going to that convention today!” Just before I left, I got a call from Chris. I answered cheerfully. “I’m on my way out! Where are you?” Chris’s voice on the other end was full of guilt. “Noah, man, work just dropped an emergency business trip on me. I’m packing right now. I have to go be a corporate slave in Chicago for two weeks… I’m so sorry.” My hand froze on the doorknob. The smile on my face slowly faded, but I kept my voice normal. “Hey, no worries! Go do your thing. I’ll grab some merch for you while I’m there.” He sounded relieved. “You’re a lifesaver, bro!” I hung up, and a voice came from behind me. “What’s wrong?” I turned to see Dominic’s lean frame propped against the marble dining table. He looked as luxurious as the deep blue silk robe he was wearing. He raised an eyebrow. “Stood up again? Your friends really are unreliable.” A sliver of suspicion entered my mind. I asked him deliberately, “Well, do you want to go to the convention with me then?” His expression flickered. My heart clenched. Could he really have been the one to ruin Chris’s weekend? If he was… “Unfortunately,” Dominic shrugged, “I didn’t know your friend was going to bail, so I didn’t get a ticket. I can’t get in.” “But I can give you a ride, if you’d like. My dear.” I relaxed. If he hadn’t prepared in advance, he probably wasn’t the one who got Chris sent on a business trip… “No, thanks. I’ll just get a cab. You enjoy your weekend at home.” 4 Wandering the convention alone was pretty boring. I bought the pin Chris wanted most and was about to leave when I turned and bumped into a soft wall. “Oh, sorry—” I said, rubbing my forehead. I looked up and saw a very familiar face. I stared. “How did you get in?” Then, feeling deceived, I added, “You said you didn’t have a ticket!” It had to be him. He must have been the one who got rid of Chris. He’d always hated all my friends! I was about to lose it. “You son of a—” Dominic pulled a staff pass from the pocket of his expensive suit. “I don’t have a ticket. But I do have a little money.” “Just got this staff pass—a little bit of ‘cash-power.’” I was speechless, staring at the pass hanging from a gold chain. Who in their right mind uses a pocket watch chain for a staff pass? He smiled at me. “A son of a what?” I looked at his benevolent smile and shivered, remembering things. “A… a… a guy who just shines with brilliance!” I blurted out, a stroke of genius. I let out a long breath, feeling like I’d regained the upper hand. I looked him over. He was wearing a custom-tailored black tailcoat that accentuated his broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs. He exuded an air of pure class. “What are you doing dressed to the nines at a comic convention? Who are you trying to seduce?” His eyes crinkled into a smile. He took my hand with his white-gloved one and pressed a kiss to the back of it. “I am here to serve you, My Lord.” I froze, and before I could even blush, a wave of suppressed squeals erupted around us. “Oh my god, he’s so hot!” “Is he cosplaying Sebastian? Or Claude?” “I don’t think so, he’s not wearing any makeup…” “Holy crap! He’s that handsome without makeup? His character model is insane!” I was suddenly the center of attention, so embarrassed I could have dug a hole and lived in it. I grabbed Dominic’s hand and pulled him away. Once we were out of the crowd, I finally breathed. “You have to work? What kind of work?” He answered with a straight face, “Yes, I do.” “My job is to accompany you around the convention.” “Noah, I will do anything with you. I will never stand you up. So please… look at me more.” My eyelashes fluttered, and the tips of my ears grew hot. “I spend more time with you than I do at work. Isn’t that enough?” He stared at me. “No. It’s not nearly enough…” His intense, obsessive gaze sent a shiver down my spine. But in the next second, Dominic was back to his usual gentlemanly self. 5 I quickly forgot about that little episode and excitedly dragged Dominic around the convention. By the afternoon, I was getting hungry. We passed a stall where cosplayers were selling snacks, and I wanted to grab something. But as I eagerly headed over, a hand caught my arm. I turned to Dominic. “What’s wrong?” He frowned at the shabby-looking stall, the scent of artificial flavoring wafting over. “If you want takoyaki, I’ll have the chef make it for you when we get home. Don’t eat from street stalls like this. It’s not clean.” At that moment, several girls who had just bought snacks walked past us, giving us a strange look. The kind of look you give rich lunatics. I tugged at his sleeve, embarrassed. “It’s not dirty. Don’t say that.” The girls at the stall were wearing masks and disposable gloves. But Dominic was clearly unconvinced. He didn’t trust any street vendors, food stalls, or hole-in-the-wall restaurants. In the three years we’d been together, I hadn’t had a single bite of delicious junk food. This time was no different. He held my hand, his grip gentle but firm, and wouldn’t let me go. “If you’re hungry, let’s go home.” There it was again. Once he made up his mind, there was nothing I could do to change it. I was still holding the merch I’d bought, only halfway through the convention… but suddenly, all the fun had drained out of it. I lowered my head and went home with Dominic. I don’t know if it was because I’d skipped breakfast or because I was in a bad mood, but my stomach started to hurt on the way home. The pain was so bad my face went pale and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. Dominic noticed immediately, his expression changing. In that instant, I knew I was screwed. He had found out I didn’t eat breakfast. From that day on, he watched me eat every single meal. 6 I ate three healthy meals a day under his watchful eye, but my stomach pain didn’t get better. Once, it even woke me up in the middle of the night, a sharp, twisting pain. This time, Dominic ignored my protests and took me to the hospital for a painless gastroscopy, colonoscopy, and a full-body check-up. Finally, the doctor at the private hospital looked at my test results, thought for a long time, and said slowly, “You have some mild gastritis, but nothing serious. Just stick to a light, healthy diet. Most importantly, try to stay in a good mood. The stomach is an organ of emotion…” I walked out of the consultation room in silence. I had barely stepped out the door when my colleague called. Because of my stomach pain last night, Dominic had insisted on taking me to the hospital today. I had to take a sudden day off work and hadn’t had time to hand over my tasks. I stood in the hospital corridor and talked to my colleague for ten minutes before hanging up. When I turned around, I saw Dominic standing behind me, frowning. “Is work very stressful lately?” “No.” “But between the office and working from home, you’ve been averaging overtime until eight-thirty.” “It’s the end of the year. It’s always busy.” I thought that was the end of it, but that night, he brought it up again. “Noah, have you ever thought about your career path?” I looked up from my phone on the sofa, confused. Dominic handed me a glass of warm water and leaned against the armrest, his voice gentle and persuasive. “I think you should consider it. You don’t have to run yourself ragged for a little money. You could think about what you really want to do. Take a break, think about what kind of person you really want to be.” 7 Dominic is six years older than me. I met him during my senior year internship. I had good grades and got into a top company. There were a lot of interns that year, and the backstabbing and office politics left me exhausted and full of self-doubt. I met Dominic when he came back to our university as a distinguished alumnus to give a speech. When he pursued me, he gave me a lot of confidence during a low point in my life. I’m a simple person; he was exceptional, and to be pursued so ardently by someone so exceptional was a huge boost to my ego. It helped me rebuild some of the confidence that the cutthroat corporate culture had shattered. After we got together, aside from his control issues… and his kinky side, he was a nearly perfect partner. As the older one, he had always guided me. I trusted him. After his words, I began to seriously consider the impact my job was having on me. Just then, my company lost two major deals in a row, and rumors of downsizing started to fly. There was a change in the company’s ownership, and the office became a toxic, anxious environment. After being targeted by my boss repeatedly, the thought of quitting started to form in my mind. Coincidentally, Chris returned from his business trip, and I met up with him for dinner. He spent the meal complaining about his trip, and I vented about the chaos at my company. It was a cathartic meal for both of us. Finally, Chris leaned in and whispered mysteriously, “Do you know who our big client was on this trip?” I raised an eyebrow. “Who?” “Evergreen Hospitality,” he said with a sly grin. “You’ve probably never heard of it, but you’ve definitely heard of the Brighton Group that backs it! I was wondering why my boss was making such a big deal out of a regular budget hotel chain. Turns out he was trying to get in with the Brighton Group…” I froze. Of course I knew the Brighton Group. It was a massive conglomerate that had started with a chain of hotels and expanded into multiple sectors. More importantly, the current head of the Brighton Group, Pierce Brighton, was Dominic’s childhood friend. I don’t know how I got back to the office that afternoon. The first thing I did was look up my company’s new owner. It was a company I’d never heard of. But I didn’t give up. I traced the chain of holding companies and majority shareholders all the way up. When the name “Brighton Group” finally appeared, my heart skipped a beat. Of course… How could there be so many coincidences in the world? Chris and I had planned to go to a convention, and he gets sent on an emergency business trip. Dominic thinks my job is affecting my health, and my company loses two major deals and gets a new owner. He had been so subtle about it, even routing everything through Pierce’s name. Even if I found out, he could just say it was a coincidence. Just the Brighton Group’s expansion plans, just Pierce’s decisions. What did it have to do with Dominic? I suddenly clutched my chest, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. 8 “Noah, are you off work? I’m waiting for you in the parking garage…” Today was one of Dominic’s friend’s birthdays, and he was taking me to the party. I calmly went downstairs, found his car, and got in. He expertly navigated out of the garage. Noticing my low mood, he asked softly, “Did you run into trouble at work?” “Yeah.” Seeing I was upset, his voice became even gentler. “A change in ownership and a new boss can really disrupt things. If you’re not adjusting well, you can always take some time off and rest at home. Or if you don’t want to quit, you could consider taking a leave of absence.” “Noah, you’ve been so distracted and down lately. Work is important, but I hope you’ll put your health first.” I suddenly turned and stared straight at him. “Do you want me to quit?” His expression didn’t change. He still wore that faint, gentlemanly smile. “I respect all of your decisions.” 9 The birthday party was held in a newly built private garden, complete with a celebrity-headlined lawn concert. Dominic led me to a table in the inner circle. After dinner, they started playing cards. Dominic won three hands in a row, and the atmosphere became lively. A group of privileged elites, all with a competitive streak, were getting fired up. Pierce was among them, and he was losing the worst, already down two sports cars and a prize horse. Even as everyone ganged up on him, Dominic remained effortlessly in control. He even found a moment to remind me, “Don’t drink. I had someone get you some warm water.” Pierce, seeing he was about to lose again, threw down his cards. He gave a knowing smile and raised an eyebrow. “Dominic, you won’t even let him drink now? You’re getting more twisted by the day.” Then he turned to me. “Noah, has it ever occurred to you that your entire life is being controlled by this psycho?” Dominic wrapped an arm around my suddenly rigid frame, smiled, and threw down a royal flush, winning another hand. He answered for me. “He hasn’t.” Pierce clicked his tongue and gave him a thumbs-up. For a split second, I wanted to flip the table, to smash the wine bottles over Dominic and Pierce’s heads. If you don’t want to perish in silence, you have to fight back.

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I was the only one on the wall for seventy-two hours against a siege of hackers. I held the line until the last second, then collapsed on the server room floor. I woke up in the ICU. The first message I saw was a company-wide memo: Three days of unexcused absence. A fifty-thousand-dollar fine. My director stood at my bedside and laid it out plainly. “Rules are rules. No exceptions.” I pulled the IV from my hand and said one word. “Fine.” From that day on, no one understood the rules better than me. 1 The fluorescent lights of the ICU were a stinging white. I had to blink three times just to pry my eyes open. The air was thick with the scent of antiseptic, and an IV needle was taped to the back of my left hand. A deep blue bruise was blooming on my wrist. On the bedside table, my phone screen was lit up. I turned my head, my gaze falling on the notification bar. 127 unread messages. The one at the very top was a company-wide email. Sender: Human Resources. With my free hand, I reached for the phone, my thumb swiping the screen open. “Subject: Official Notice Regarding Unexcused Absence of Alex Chen, Technology Department. This memo is to inform all personnel that, following a review, it has been confirmed that Alex Chen, Network Security Engineer, was absent from March 12th to March 14th without submitting a formal leave request as stipulated in Article 17 of the Employee Attendance Management Policy. In accordance with company regulations, the following actions will be taken: 1. A formal reprimand will be issued company-wide. 2. Mr. Chen’s quarterly performance bonus of $50,000 will be forfeited. 3. This incident will be recorded in Mr. Chen’s permanent employee file.” I scrolled to the bottom of the email. CC: All Employees. A flick of my thumb down, and the department group chat was already exploding. Someone tagged me: “Alex, you okay, man?” Someone else asked, “This has to be a mistake, right?” But most of them were silent. A heavy, telling silence I knew all too well. I stared at the ceiling, a dull ringing in my ears. March 12th, 9:47 PM. The company’s internal network monitoring system lit up like a Christmas tree from hell. I was just about to leave. My backpack was slung over one shoulder, one arm already in my jacket sleeve. The single alert on my screen multiplied, from one to ten, then ten to a hundred. Someone was hitting our core database with a distributed attack. This wasn’t a standard DDoS flood; it was a surgical strike. They knew our internal topology, slipping through a port that should have never been open. It was like they had a key to the front door. I dropped my bag on the floor, threw my jacket over the back of my chair, and sat down to fight back. I called Marcus Reed, my director. It rang six times, no answer. I called Frank, one of the lead ops guys. He said he was on the freeway, at least two hours out. It was just me, alone, staring at six monitors, plugging the holes. I’d block one vector, and they’d pivot, coming at me from another angle. Block that one, and they’d find another. The attack traffic surged from 800 megabits per second to 40 gigabits per second. I downed twelve cans of Red Bull. Then came the coffee, black, no sugar, chugged cold right from the pot. The first day passed. The second day passed. On the third day, the afternoon of March 14th, as I tried to stand up from the server room floor, my vision went black. My knees buckled first, then my forehead slammed into the sharp metal corner of a server rack. Frank told me later that when he finally pushed open the server room door, I was face down on the ground, blood matting my hair, my hand still resting on the keyboard. The attack was over. I had held the line. The data, client information, and core code for over three hundred employees—not a single byte was lost. And then I ended up in the ICU. And then I received the notice of unexcused absence. The door to my room swung open just as I was reading that email for the third time, word by agonizing word. Marcus Reed walked in. Suit, tie, hair perfectly coiffed. He carried a small bag of fruit, which he placed on the bedside table, patting an orange as if to check its firmness. “You’re awake,” he said, pulling a chair over and crossing his legs. “How are you feeling?” I didn’t answer. He waited a few seconds, sensing the tension, and cleared his throat. “You saw the memo, I take it.” I nodded. “Alex, you’ve been with us a while. You know the policies.” His tone was a well-rehearsed “my-hands-are-tied,” but the slight curve of his lips betrayed him. “Leave requests have to go through the official channels, approved by your direct supervisor. You were gone for three days with nothing in the system. When HR asked me about it, I couldn’t exactly lie, could I?” “I was in the server room,” I said, my voice hoarse. He held up a hand, a gesture to stop me. “I know you worked hard. I appreciate the effort. But effort is one thing, and policy is another. They’re two separate issues. If you had just called me, sent a text, anything to get a paper trail started, I could have approved it after the fact. But you did nothing.” He paused, leaning forward and lowering his voice. “Corporate is auditing attendance records right now. At a time like this, nobody gets a pass.” I just looked at him. His gaze was steady, his lines delivered flawlessly, as if he’d practiced in a mirror. “Rules are rules,” he said, standing and smoothing a non-existent wrinkle from his trousers. “No exceptions.” The room fell silent for a few seconds, punctuated by the steady beep… beep… beep of the heart monitor. I clenched the bedsheets, my nails digging into my palms. The last seventy-two hours flashed through my mind in a chaotic montage: the frantic cascade of data across six screens, the stomach-cramping coffee I kept pouring down my throat, the low hum of the fluorescent lights in the server room at 4 AM, the cold, sharp shock of metal against my forehead as I collapsed. I swallowed hard. And then I said one word. “Fine.” Marcus froze for a second. He had probably come prepared with a full script. If I got angry, he’d play the sympathetic but helpless manager. If I broke down, he’d offer a tissue and feigned compassion. But all I said was, “Fine.” The word was too small, too quiet. It gave him nothing to work with. He nodded, patting my shoulder. “Good. Get some rest. We need you back at the office.” The door clicked shut. His footsteps faded down the hall. I stared at the IV in the back of my hand for a long, long time. Then I picked up my phone, closed the email, and opened a new note. I typed a line: Employee Attendance Management Policy, Article 17. Then another: Find the full text. 2 The day I was discharged, the sky was a bruised gray, hanging so low it felt like it could collapse at any moment. I stood outside the office building for three seconds, took a breath, and pushed through the glass doors. The receptionist looked up, met my eyes, and then her gaze darted away as she pretended to sort a stack of packages. Walking past the marketing department, I could feel their eyes on me from the corners of their vision. The rhythmic clatter of keyboards suddenly intensified, the keys struck with a little too much force, a performance of “I’m very busy and definitely not looking at you.” I ran into Susan from accounting at the elevators. She held the door for me. After a moment of hesitation, she spoke in a low voice. “Alex, about that memo… nobody thinks it was right.” I just nodded at her. “Thanks, Susan.” I didn’t say anything else. The tech department was on the twelfth floor. The moment I walked in, a hush fell over the entire area. I understood that silence. It wasn’t concern. It was the quiet of a crowd watching a spectacle. Everyone has their own scale. They knew what I did, and they knew how I was being treated. But on the other side of that scale sat their mortgages, their car payments, and their kids’ tuition. So the scales didn’t move an inch. I got it. I sat down at my desk, booted up my computer, and said nothing. A fresh stack of work orders sat on my desk. The one on top was signed by Marcus, marked “URGENT.” I pushed the stack aside, opened the company’s internal portal, and typed into the search bar: “Company Policies.” Employee Attendance Management Policy, 94 pages. Overtime Management Regulations, 47 pages. Travel and Expense Reimbursement Policy, 62 pages. Project Management Workflow Standards, 118 pages. Information Security Management Ordinance, 83 pages. In total, thirty-seven policy documents, over two thousand pages of text. I started with the first one, reading every single word. At 3 PM, Frank came over with two cups of coffee. He set one on my desk and held the other. “Alex,” he said, pulling up an empty chair and leaning in close. “Don’t do this to yourself, man. That fifty grand… I tried to talk to him, but he wouldn’t listen. I’m sorry.” “Frank,” I said without looking up from my screen. “When you found me in the server room, what did it look like?” He was quiet for a moment. “You were face down. Your forehead was split open on the corner of a server rack. There was blood everywhere. When I rolled you over, your hands were ice-cold.” “And who did you tell about this?” “I told Marcus,” Frank said, his knuckles whitening as he gripped the paper cup. “He said he knew, but told me to keep it quiet. Said corporate was breathing down our necks and we couldn’t afford any drama.” I nodded slowly, my eyes still fixed on the screen. Frank didn’t leave. He seemed to want to say something more but couldn’t find the words. Finally, after a few minutes, he broke. “What the hell are you reading, anyway?” “Company policy.” “Why would you read that crap?” I turned to look at him then. “I’m learning.” Frank’s mouth opened, then snapped shut. He’d known me for five years. He knew that when I said “I’m learning,” I wasn’t kidding. He walked away, taking his coffee with him. By the end of the day, I had finished the Attendance Management Policy and the Overtime Management Regulations. I had jotted down seven specific article numbers in my notes. One of them, Article 23, Section 4, was crystal clear: “In the event of a sudden emergency preventing the timely submission of a leave request, the employee’s direct supervisor may submit a retroactive request on their behalf within three working days.” In other words, during those seventy-two hours, all Marcus had to do was click a “Submit Retroactive” button for me in the system, and my absence wouldn’t have been unexcused. He didn’t click it. He chose not to. I highlighted that article in red and saved the note in a new folder. I named the folder “Study Notes.” Before shutting down my computer, I looked up one more thing. That anomaly I first noticed at 9:47 PM on March 12th, right before the whole system went into meltdown. The point of entry for the attack—a port that should never have been open. The permissions required to open that port could only be granted by an admin account at the director level or higher. I had been too busy fighting the fire to dig deeper then. Now, I had time. I copied the port number into my notes. Then I shut down my machine. On the dot. 6:00 PM. Not a second later. 3 The next morning, I clocked in at 9:00 AM sharp. Not 8:55, not 8:58. Exactly 9:00. Because the company policy stated, black on white: “Working hours are from 9:00 AM to 6:00 PM.” Marcus called on me during the morning stand-up. “Alex, did you see that urgent ticket I sent you yesterday? The client is breathing down our necks.” “I saw it,” I said. “And when can we expect delivery?” “As soon as the process is complete.” He frowned. “What process?” I opened the notes app on my phone and read aloud. “According to the Project Management Workflow Standards, Article 8, Section 2: ‘Tasks requiring inter-departmental collaboration must be initiated via a formal Collaboration Request Form, signed and approved by the heads of both departments before work can commence.’ This ticket requires server permissions from the Operations team, which qualifies as inter-departmental collaboration. We need their signature.” The conference room fell silent. My colleagues stared down at their notebooks, avoiding my eyes, avoiding Marcus’s. A muscle in Marcus’s jaw twitched. “We’ve never bothered with formal processes for small things like this.” I looked up, meeting his gaze directly. “Director, you were the one who taught me. Rules are rules.” His expression hardened into a mask. That ticket didn’t get done that day. It wasn’t that I wouldn’t do it. The process wasn’t complete. The head of Ops, Dave, was out of town on business. He wouldn’t be back to sign it for three days. I documented the delay with meticulous clarity in an email, CC’ing Marcus and the entire project team, and attached a screenshot of the relevant company policy. At 5:58 PM, I started clearing my desk. At 6:00 PM, I stood up. Marcus poked his head out of his office. “Alex, that data migration isn’t—” “Director,” I cut him off. He stopped, stunned. I pulled a printed sheet of paper from my desk drawer and handed it to him. Overtime Management Regulations, Article 5: “Employee overtime must be requested by the department head via an Overtime Request Form at least twenty-four hours in advance and approved by Human Resources. Any work performed outside of standard hours without prior approval will not be recognized by the company or compensated as overtime.” “If you need me to work late, please submit the request twenty-four hours in advance,” I said, placing the paper on his desk. “See you tomorrow.” Marcus stood in his office doorway, the muscles in his face pulled taut. He wanted to explode. But he couldn’t. He had no grounds. Because these were the very rules he had used as a weapon against me. I turned and walked out of the office. Behind me, I heard the sound of his door slamming shut. I ran into Frank in the elevator on my way out. He looked me up and down, a complicated expression on his face. “What?” I asked. “Nothing. It’s just… you’ve changed.” “How so?” He thought for a long moment before finding the word. “Terrifying.” The third day, the client called to check on the project’s progress and was informed the paperwork was still being processed. They filed a formal complaint directly with Marcus. From my desk, I heard the sound of a mug shattering against a wall in his office. I didn’t look up. My fingers typed out a new line in my notes. Information Security Management Ordinance, Article 31. Server operation logs must be retained for a period of one year. It had been eleven days since March 12th. Three hundred and fifty-four days left. Plenty of time. 4 Marcus was spearheading a major project. The Apex Solutions data platform—a $1.5 million contract, the biggest deal of the year for our company. From its inception, I had been the one to design every core technical solution for that project. Marcus didn’t understand the tech; he understood signing documents and leading meetings. At every technical review with the client, he’d sit at the head of the table in his tailored suit, give a three-minute opening speech, and then say, “And now, I’ll turn it over to our lead technical expert to walk you through the details.” That was my cue to take the microphone for the next two hours. The client thought Marcus was the technical mastermind. In reality, he couldn’t even name the tech stack I was using in my own proposal. Now, the project was at a critical acceptance phase. The client demanded that phase three be delivered by Friday, or they would invoke the penalty clause in the contract. Marcus sent me an email. The subject line had three exclamation points. “URGENT!!! Apex Project Phase Three Delivery—Must Be Completed This Week.” I replied with an email of my own. The body was just three lines long, with two attachments. “Director Reed, Regarding the Apex project phase three delivery, the following process steps have not yet been completed: 1. The ‘Database Permission Change Request’ requires your signature before it can be submitted to the Information Security department for approval. Current Status: Awaiting Signature (This has been in your approval queue for 6 working days). 2. The ‘Test Environment Deployment Plan’ requires cooperation from the Operations team. An ‘Inter-Departmental Collaboration Request’ must be submitted by you. Current Status: Not Initiated. Once these processes are complete, I will begin the technical delivery immediately.” I CC’d the entire project team and HR. Twenty minutes later, the door to Marcus’s office was yanked open. “Alex. My office. Now.” His voice was controlled, but barely. The edges were frayed. I stood up, taking my phone with me. I walked in. He shut the door behind me, turned around, and his face was flushed a deep, angry red. “What the hell are you doing?” “Awaiting your approval.” “That request has been sitting in my queue for six days! Why didn’t you just remind me?” I stood my ground. He hadn’t invited me to sit. “According to the Internal Systems Usage Policy, Article 12: ‘Approvers at all levels are expected to process requests within three working days of receipt. The system will issue an automatic reminder for any overdue items.’ The system has already reminded you twice, Director.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Alex, is this about the memo? Are you holding a grudge?” “No.” “Then what is this?” I looked him straight in the eye. “You taught me, sir. Rules are rules. I’m just following them.” His right hand gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. The phone on his desk rang, its shrill tone cutting through the tension. He hesitated for a second, then snatched it up. It was the client. I stood two meters away, but I could clearly hear the impatient male voice on the other end. “Marcus, what’s the status on phase three? My director has asked me about it three times already.” Marcus’s face contorted, a strained smile plastered on his lips. “Mr. Davis, rest assured, we’ll have it for you in the next couple of days—” “A couple of days? That’s what you said last week.” He turned his back to me, lowering his voice, but I heard every word. When he hung up, he spun back around. “I want you to go right now and get that—” “The process isn’t complete,” I said. He stared at me, his eyes burning. I stared back. After a tense ten seconds, he violently ripped a folder from his desk, flipped to the pending approval form, scribbled his signature, and slammed it down in front of me. “Take it.” “The inter-departmental collaboration request needs your signature as well.” He squeezed his eyes shut, exhaling sharply through his nose. He signed it. I picked up both sheets of paper. “I will submit these to Information Security for approval today. The standard processing time is two to three business days. I will begin execution as soon as approval is granted.” “Two to three business days?!” his voice shot up. “The client’s deadline is this Friday!” I paused at the door without turning back. “Director, I don’t set the approval timelines. Company policy does. If you have a problem with the process, I suggest you take it up with corporate.” I walked out of his office, pulling the door gently shut behind me. Back at my desk, a new message from Frank was on my screen. “Are you insane???” I didn’t reply. I opened my notes app and created a new file inside the “Study Notes” folder. The title was: “Plan for Retrieving Server Logs for Anomalous Port Opening on March 12th.” On Friday, the Apex project failed to meet its deadline. The client sent a formal notice, invoking the penalty clause for a total of twenty thousand dollars. Marcus posted a message in the department group chat: “I will be reporting the cause of this project delay truthfully and accurately to upper management.” Everyone knew he was talking to me. But he didn’t tag me. Because he couldn’t. Every step I took was by the book.

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1 After the “real” daughter of the family snatched my fiancé, I decided I was done playing by the rules. I did the one thing I could: I got him into my bed, and then I ran. He may have been a rebellious disaster, but he was unfairly handsome. So I made a choice. I kept the premium-grade souvenir of our night together. Jax Walker was furious, swearing that when he found me, he’d make my life a living hell. I spent five years in hiding, my heart pounding every time I heard his name. Until one day, I went to pick up my son from school. A huge crowd was gathered at the gate, buzzing about a fight. My eyes lit up. I eagerly pushed my way through the crowd, ready for some good, old-fashioned drama. And there they were, in the open space by the school entrance, two figures locked in a clumsy brawl. The taller one wore a black trench coat, his back as straight and unyielding as a pine tree. His movements were sharp, efficient. The shorter one was in a primary school uniform, his little legs pumping like pistons. His fists were small, but every punch was aimed at a vital spot. I rubbed my eyes, staring at the two of them—one a carbon copy of the other, just shrunk down. My world tilted on its axis. What was wrong with these two? How could a father and son who had never met before just start throwing punches? … Jax turned his head, deftly dodging my son’s fist. The corner of his eye twitched upward in a look of lazy, arrogant amusement. That face. It was the kind of face that haunted my nightmares. I took a deep breath. And another. And one more for good measure. And to think, Noah told me he was a model student. From the look of his practiced fighting stance, he seemed more like a seasoned brawler. That left hook had some serious power, the angle was vicious, and he even knew how to feint before landing a punch. A circle of parents had formed around them. Some were filming with their phones, others were cheering them on. “Whose kid is that? He’s got some moves!” “Go for the big guy! You got this, kiddo!” I covered my face, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. Noah planted his hands on his hips, his little chin jutted out. “Mister, you’re blocking my way.” Jax glanced down at him and scoffed. “You own the sidewalk, pipsqueak?” “It’s not mine, but you’re blocking the school gate. My friends can’t get out.” A laugh escaped Jax’s lips, a mix of annoyance and disbelief. “Who the hell is your mother? Raising a little tyrant like you.” I winced. The kid had inherited my temper and Jax’s in equal, disastrous measure. Everyone who knew us knew that when Jax and I met, sparks flew. And someone usually ended up bleeding. The day I found out I was the Sterling family’s switched-at-birth mistake, Jax was the first one to show up and gloat. “Well, well, Willow. Turns out you’re a fake. No wonder you have no class.” I lunged at him, sinking my teeth into his neck. He couldn’t push me off, no matter how hard he tried. I felt the coppery tang of blood seep between my teeth. He let out a muffled groan of pain, his eyes wide with disbelief. “What are you, some kind of animal?!” Only then did I release him, licking the blood from the corner of my mouth. I just never imagined he’d have the same effect on our son. Jax reached out, his fingers closing around the back of Noah’s neck. “Alright, let’s go find your parents. I have to see what kind of people are responsible for a little monster like you.” My throat tightened. It was time to run. But just then, a sharp voice cut through the air. His teacher, Ms. Davis, came storming over in her high heels, her face a mask of fury. “Excuse me, which class are you with? Are you bullying one of our students?” For a rare moment, Jax actually looked embarrassed. Before he could speak, a woman in a chic cream-colored coat emerged from the crowd. She gracefully looped her arm through Jax’s and offered Ms. Davis a practiced smile. “Hello, teacher. I am so sorry about this. Please forgive our intrusion.” “We’re investors in the school, and we were just passing by to see the campus. My fiancé isn’t always the best with children. If he’s offended your student, I apologize on his behalf.” She gave a slight bow, her posture a picture of elegance. Ms. Davis’s anger immediately deflated. “Oh, an investor. Well, even so, you can’t be getting into fights with students…” Isabelle, the real Sterling daughter, turned to Jax, her tone laced with a gentle scolding. “Jax, darling, really. Why are you arguing with a child?” I watched their linked arms, a cynical sound escaping my lips. After Isabelle was welcomed back into the family, she had made it her mission to take everything from me. “Jax is mine too, sister,” she had said. “Surely you’re not going to try and steal him from me as well?” I had trembled with rage. If she was going to accuse me of being a usurper, I might as well play the part to the hilt. That night, I got him roaring drunk, dragged him to bed, and was gone before sunrise. I tugged the brim of my hat lower. As long as no one recognized me, everything would be fine. But just then, the teacher’s voice rang out again, stopping me in my tracks. “Oh, Noah’s mom! There you are. I was just about to call you.” I froze. 2 Jax’s gaze was already sweeping in our direction. Ms. Davis walked over to me, holding Noah’s hand. “Noah and that gentleman had a little misunderstanding. I just wanted to fill you in…” I kept my back to Jax, my voice a low whisper. “I’m in a huge rush right now, something urgent came up. Can I call you back later?” Ms. Davis blinked, taking in my panicked expression, then glanced over my shoulder. “Well, but…” I mumbled a half-baked excuse, bent down, and swept Noah into my arms. He wrapped his arms around my neck, his face a picture of confusion. I turned and ducked into a nearby alley, rushing us home. As soon as I set him down, Noah looked up at me. “That man kept staring at you, Mommy. When you walked away, he watched you for a really long time.” I didn’t answer, moving to shut the door, but a hand shot out and held it open. Isabelle stood on my doorstep, a triumphant, phony smile on her face. “Sister. I knew it was you. It’s been a long time.” “Tsk, tsk. I can’t blame Jax for not recognizing you. You look nothing like the proud, arrogant Sterling heiress you used to be.” Noah peeked out from behind my leg, his little face tense as he glared at her. Isabelle noticed his gaze and looked down, her smile widening. “And whose little bastard is this?” I rolled my eyes so hard I thought they’d get stuck. “Are you done?” The smile on her face faltered for a second before she pulled a gold-embossed invitation from her purse. “Sister, tomorrow is my wedding to Jax. Mom and Dad said that, after all, you were their daughter for twenty years. Even if you’re not their blood, they’d still like you to be there.” She pressed the invitation into my hand and leaned in close to my ear. “By the way, I still have those drawings of yours.” My eyebrows shot up. Isabelle took a step back, her face a mask of perfect composure, but her eyes were cold and sharp. “You left in such a hurry. That manila envelope… there were about twenty of them, right? All from your high school days.” She tilted her head, her smile sickeningly sweet. “I heard you were supposed to go to art school. What a shame. It was me who convinced Mom and Dad to cut you off financially. A pity you couldn’t afford it.” “I’ve looked through those drawings a few times. They’re all rather… intimate sketches of Jax, aren’t they?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “What do you want? I’ve left the Sterling family. Can’t you just leave me alone after all these years?” She let out a delighted laugh. “Sister, you stole so many years of my life. This is just the beginning.” “If you come to the wedding on Saturday, I’ll return the drawings to you in person. If you don’t… well, then I’ll just have to display them for all the guests to see. Let everyone know just how disgusting you are.” A laugh burst out of me. “Great. Go ahead. Let the whole world see his nudes.” Isabelle froze, her face flushing a deep red. “You’re shameless!” I smiled, pulling out my phone and waggling it at her. “Oh, and if that’s not explosive enough for you, I’ve got more. From that night… you know. Want a private screening?” I had nothing, of course, but I was an expert at bluffing. Isabelle’s face turned ashen. “Willow, you’re despicable!” I tilted my head, my smile bright. “If you don’t show everyone my masterpieces, you’re a coward.” She was shaking with rage, pointing a finger at me, unable to form a word. “You were spoiled rotten by the Sterlings! Even after all these years on your own, you still haven’t learned any humility. Just you wait.” She shot me one last venomous glare, then spun on her heel and stormed off. I yelled after her, “I’ll be there tomorrow! You’re a coward if you don’t show them!” Noah poked his head out from behind the door. “Mommy, what did you draw?” I pinched his cheek. “Mommy is taking you to crash a wedding.” 3 The next day, I arrived at the old Sterling family estate as promised. Isabelle, draped in a wedding gown with a long train, found me in a corner where I was adjusting Noah’s little suit. “Sister, you came. Perfect. There’s something I need your help with.” I raised an eyebrow, waiting for her next move. She clapped her hands, and two security guards in black suits appeared behind her, grabbing my arms. “The kitchen is short-staffed today. The dishwasher called in sick. Since you’re not doing anything, you can go help out.” I frowned. “Isabelle, you invited me to your wedding just to make me wash dishes?” She looked me up and down, her gaze dripping with condescension. “It’s not hard work. Just washing some plates, mopping the floor. Surely you can handle that? You’re not the Sterling heiress who never lifted a finger anymore.” The guards started dragging me towards the kitchens. Noah rushed forward, clinging to my leg. “Don’t touch my mommy!” Isabelle gave one of the guards a look. He stepped forward, grabbed Noah by the collar, and lifted him away from me. “Isabelle!” I struggled, shouting. “Let go of my son!” “Don’t worry, I won’t hurt him,” she said, adjusting her veil, her voice light and airy. “As soon as you’re done in the kitchen, I promise you’ll get your son back in one piece.” She paused, leaning close to my ear, her voice a low hiss. “Of course, that’s only if you do a good job. Break a single plate, and you and your son will be going home naked.” The guards shoved me into the kitchen and left me in front of a mountain of greasy plates. “You can leave when you’re finished.” The door was locked from the outside. I took a deep breath, rolled up my sleeves, and started scrubbing. I washed for nearly an hour, my hands pruned and white. Suddenly, I heard a commotion from the main hall. It was followed by Isabelle’s piercing shriek. “How is that possible? It was right on my hand! That diamond ring is worth five million dollars!” “Where could it have gone?!” A cold knot of dread formed in my stomach. A terrible premonition washed over me. I peeked through the crack in the door. The next thing I heard was Isabelle’s voice, thick with insinuation. “Just now… I think there was a child who was very close to me. He even bumped into me, and now my ring is gone.” Before her words had even faded, a guard emerged, holding Noah firmly. My son was still holding half a macaroon, his cheeks puffed out. He looked utterly bewildered by the sudden attention. “I didn’t do it!” “What are you doing? Let me go!” Noah began to struggle violently. Isabelle rushed over, her face a mask of fake apology. “I’m so sorry, little one.” “But this ring is extremely valuable. I simply can’t afford to lose it. I just want to check, to see if you have it on you. If you don’t, I’ll have them let you go immediately!” As every guest in the room watched, the ring was pulled from Noah’s pocket. A collective gasp went through the hall, followed by a wave of murmurs and disgusted looks from every direction. 4 A few of the society ladies close to the Sterling family were already frowning, pointing at Noah. “You can just tell he has no breeding, running around like a wild animal at an event like this.” “Where are his parents? When a child causes this much trouble, the parents need to be held accountable.” Noah’s face slowly turned crimson. He shouted, “I didn’t! I didn’t bump into her! And I didn’t take her ring!” But his small voice was lost in the sea of judgmental whispers. I pounded on the door, my palm stinging, but it wouldn’t budge. Just then, the police and venue security arrived. The evidence was undeniable, found in front of everyone. A police officer knelt down. “Son, where are your parents? Who told you to steal?” That question was like a needle, popping the balloon of Noah’s composure. He blinked, his eyelashes suddenly wet, but he fought back the tears. “I don’t know.” Isabelle clung to her mother, who had rushed to her side, sobbing dramatically. “Mom, that ring… it was a symbol of Jax’s love for me.” “This is the son my sister raised on the outside. We were kind enough to invite them to the wedding, and this is how they repay us, with their thieving hands.” The murmuring grew louder. “Oh, it’s her… the fake heiress…” “No wonder. A bastard raises a bastard. A family of thieves!” Noah bit his lip so hard it was a wonder it didn’t bleed, refusing to let a single tear fall. At that moment, a hush fell over the entrance to the hall as the crowd parted to form a path. Jax walked in, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his expression unreadable. Isabelle dried her tears, her voice becoming formal and business-like. “Officer, there’s one more thing.” She took her phone out of her clutch, pulled up a few photos, and handed it to the police. “These are drawings my sister made. The subject matter… they are all photos she secretly took of my fiancé, which she then used to create… those kinds of drawings.” She paused, a faint blush on her cheeks, as if the topic was too embarrassing to discuss. “My fiancé is Jax Walker, the heir to the Walker Corporation. These drawings are a serious violation of his privacy, and the content is incredibly… obscene.” The officer took the phone, his brow furrowed. “Where are these drawings now?” “They were in my possession. My sister came to the wedding today to demand them back. But I believe this kind of behavior cannot be tolerated. I intend to press charges.” She turned to Jax, her voice softening. “Right, Jax?” Jax finally looked up. He walked over to the police officer, and in one smooth motion, he lifted Noah into his arms. “I’m his father.” “And as for those pictures, I was the one who was barely dressed, trying to seduce her. I begged her to draw them.”

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My eighteenth attempt at a wedding with my fiancé, and once again, my adoptive sister stole everyone away. My parents called, their voices a mixture of anxiety and impatience. “Molly’s stomach is acting up again. We’re taking her to the hospital. You handle the wedding. It’s been canceled so many times, you’re an old pro at this.” My maid of honor, my best friend since childhood, just clicked her tongue. “Is your wedding really more important than Molly’s health? She was in so much pain she almost passed out, and you expect us to just ignore her? When did you become so cruel, Kara?” And my fiancé? He didn’t even bother to call. Just a text with five words: Wedding’s off. We’ll reschedule. We’ll reschedule. I repeated those words to myself over and over. He’d used those same five words to dismiss me seventeen times before. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I was so done with this. “System.” “Sever my ties with all of them.” A familiar voice replied, “As you wish. All connections between you and the other characters have been severed.” “Countdown initiated. In 72 hours, they will lose everything they possess. Including their lives.” 1 As the system’s countdown began, I picked up the microphone and walked onto the stage, a sea of violet—Molly’s favorite flower. How fitting for my wedding. “I apologize, everyone. Today’s wedding is canceled.” The guests exchanged glances, but no one seemed surprised. “I knew it,” one woman whispered. “They’ve never managed to actually go through with one. If I were Kara Fairley, I’d be too embarrassed to even show my face.” “The whole family dotes on the younger one. If I were her, I’d just let my sister have him. At least she’d get a reputation for being generous instead of being the laughingstock of the city.” “You don’t get it,” another chimed in. “This one’s not to be messed with. Every time Mr. Vance refused her, his company’s stock would tank the next day. He lost millions before he finally agreed to stay with her.” I walked away under a cloud of pitying stares, a sarcastic smile playing on my lips. This time, it was going to be more than just a stock dip. I changed out of my wedding dress and went back to the Fairley mansion to pack a few things. As I was about to leave, the front door opened, and the whole laughing, smiling group walked in, gathered around Molly. The moment they saw me, the smiles vanished. Liam Vance’s eyes flashed with anger. “Kara, if you were going to cancel the wedding, why didn’t you explain it properly? Now everyone is going to assume it was because of Molly again.” My father’s voice was a sharp command. “Kara, your handling of this was abysmal. In the past, you’ve managed the PR for these cancellations flawlessly. You’ve disappointed me. Go and release a statement immediately. Say it was because of your own selfish whim.” My best friend, Chloe, whipped out her phone. “I’ll have my agent contact the media. If Kara posts a statement now, we can still control the narrative. We’ll hire some online trolls to attack her, and no one will suspect Molly…” I didn’t respond to their accusations. I just watched the countdown timer in my mind. Two days and eighteen hours. Then, they would be finished. “Kara, are you deaf? Let me be clear. If you don’t fix this, I can’t promise you when the next wedding will be.” Liam stepped in front of me, his voice dripping with impatience. Finally, Molly spoke, her voice soft and frail. “It’s all my fault. I ruined your wedding, Kara. I’m so sorry.” “There are still other good days this month. You two shouldn’t postpone it any longer…” She broke off, coughing weakly. Liam rushed to her side, rubbing her back. “It’s not your fault, don’t even think that. Your sister will never leave me. It doesn’t matter when we get married.” “You’ve got that wrong,” I said, my voice cold. It was the first thing I had said. They all stared at me, stunned. I held up my duffel bag. “I’m leaving.” The words had barely left my mouth when a sharp crack echoed through the living room. 2 I turned my head to the side, a bitter laugh escaping me. My mother’s hand was still trembling with rage. “How dare you cause a scene?! We’ve spoiled you rotten all these years, and this is what you’ve become? So selfish and arrogant?” “And you’re leaving? Where will you go? Are you trying to make this a city-wide scandal, to make everyone think we favor Molly, that we’re cruel to you? Kara, when will you ever learn to be considerate? How could I have a daughter like you? You’re not even half the woman Molly is!” The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth. I licked my lips. Yes, in the past, I would have thrown a fit. Because I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why, when Molly was the one who broke our father’s priceless antique, they blamed me. I didn’t understand why, even with security footage, they refused to believe I hadn’t pushed Molly down the stairs. Even buying flowers that triggered Molly’s allergies was seen as a deliberate act of cruelty. This wasn’t the first time my mother had hit me. The last time was just two days ago. Because I refused to let Molly wear my wedding dress. And then, she fainted. My mother shoved me, then took a pair of scissors and shredded the custom-made gown I had waited six months for. For Molly, my mother and I were practically at war. So, yes, I would cause a scene. I would make everyone see the injustice. But this time, I was done fighting. I am the Chosen One in this world. All the other characters can only gain their power and luck by being connected to me. The day after I was born, the nearly bankrupt Fairley Corporation suddenly struck gold, becoming the wealthiest family in the city. My father’s stage-two liver cancer miraculously vanished. My best friend, Chloe, grew more beautiful with each passing year of our friendship, eventually achieving her dream of becoming an award-winning actress, a superstar. As for Liam… He was a street vendor, hawking counterfeit goods. Chased by police, beaten by competitors. Until he saved me when I got lost in a night market. I fell for him instantly. From that day on, he founded his own brand, and every business venture he touched turned to gold, until the Vance Corporation was listed on the stock exchange. For over twenty years, they had all cherished me. Liam, especially, treated me like the most precious thing in the world. And through me, they all got everything they ever wanted. But then, Molly was brought into our family. And everything changed. My father’s voice was cold. “Someone, take her things. She’s not taking a single thing from this house with her.” “Kara, you can leave. But this time, no one is coming to coax you back. If you walk out that door, we will hold a press conference and disown you. You will no longer be our daughter!” They threw me out without so much as a change of clothes. Liam sighed and discreetly handed me a key. “You can stay at this apartment. Kara, we’re tired. We can’t keep playing these games with you.” “I wish the person I had saved that night was Molly.” I scoffed. “You can marry her now, then.” Liam sighed again, a weary sound. “There you go again. Kara, you know I promised to marry you. I won’t go back on my word.” “Molly is a sweet, innocent girl. I won’t have you speak of her so casually, as if she’s some kind of toy. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” He turned and walked back up the steps. I threw the key on the ground and was about to leave when Molly rushed out, grabbing my sleeve. “Don’t go, sister! I shouldn’t have wished for a life that wasn’t mine! I don’t deserve it!” “Don’t go. I’m the one who should leave. I’ll leave the Fairley family right now…” I knew what she was doing. So I just stood there, letting her cling to me and put on her show. But when I didn’t push her away like I usually did, she suddenly gasped for air and collapsed at my feet. “Molly!” “Call Dr. Chen! Molly, my daughter!” They all rushed over, surrounding her. Liam’s eyes were blazing as he grabbed me by the throat. “Kara, you dare to touch Molly again? Do you really think I won’t hurt you?!” I almost laughed. It was truly absurd. I hadn’t even touched her. And yet, here I was, the attacker. “Liam, I hope you all don’t regret this.” “Someone!” my father roared, pointing at me. “Lock her in the basement! It’s time for some family discipline!” 3 The damp, dark basement. This was my second time here. The first was still fresh in my memory. It was because I found Molly sneaking into Liam’s room in the middle of the night. I caught her red-handed, right there on his bed. But she cried and claimed she was sleepwalking, a result of some past trauma. She didn’t know why she had ended up in Liam’s room. She just said it felt… safe. She hadn’t meant to do it. My parents and Liam bought her story completely. Liam even told her, gently, that if she was ever scared, she could come to him anytime. At the time, I was more in love with Liam than ever. I wouldn’t even tolerate a female assistant near him. The entire executive floor was a no-woman’s-land. So I had slapped Molly across the face. And my parents had locked me in this basement. For seven days, with only a bowl of thin porridge each day. They only let me out when I was so weak from hunger that I agreed to apologize to Molly. This time, it was clear they had more in mind than just starving me. When my father came down with a rattan cane, Liam was with him. “According to the Fairley family rules, you should receive thirty lashes. But Molly feels sorry for you. She knelt and begged me to use the cane instead. The cane is not as severe as the whip, so you will receive fifty strokes.” Crack! The cane struck my back, and a red welt immediately rose on my skin. My father hit me a dozen times. The welts turned into open wounds. Each subsequent blow was a searing, agonizing pain. I remembered them saying Molly had begged for the cane. It must have been soaked in chili water. “Apologize to your sister!” “Are you going to apologize or not?!” My father grew more enraged with each unanswered demand. After fifty strokes, my entire back and arms were a mess of lacerations. The skin was torn and bleeding, trickles of blood running down my spine and pooling on the floor. I was numb with pain. I huddled in the corner, gasping for breath. My father threw the cane down and left. “Stubborn girl!” he spat as he walked out. Liam walked over and knelt beside me. “Molly prepared this medicine and these clothes for you. Kara, Molly has always been respectful to you. As her older sister, and as her future brother-in-law, we should take care of her. Why are you so petty? Why do you always assume the worst of her?” “When you’ve thought it through, apologize. Don’t make us angry again.” He shook out the clothes Molly had “prepared” for me. And thoughtfully draped them over my back. The moment the fabric touched my open wounds, it felt like I had been plunged into a vat of salt water. I curled into a ball, shaking with pain. “So dramatic. Molly is in agony every time she has one of her episodes, and she never makes a scene like you do.” Liam clicked his tongue and stood up, then left. It took me a long moment to catch my breath. “System…” “Host, would you like me to activate your pain shield?” “No. I want to accelerate the severance.” “Understood. Acceleration initiated. At noon tomorrow, all characters will experience the full backlash.”

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1 Axel wanted a promotion to the headquarters, so he asked me to temporarily take over his work. When I refused, he made my life a living hell. Five consecutive months of non-stop overtime not only drained every ounce of my energy but also torpedoed my relationship. I’d had enough. During a meeting, I sent a message to my best friend: “I seriously don’t know how someone can be so fake.” After realizing I’d sent it to the wrong person, I saw his face darken. My brain short-circuited, and on a whim, I added another line. “But why can’t he just fake having me in his heart?” … I woke up in the company infirmary. The smell of antiseptic mixed with the clean, sandalwood scent of Axel’s cologne filled my nose. I snapped my eyes open and met his deep, unreadable gaze. He was sitting by the bed, his suit jacket perfectly pressed, but the eyes behind his glasses were analytical. “You’re awake?” His voice was low, devoid of emotion. The memory of those two career-suicide messages flooded back. I remembered his shocked expression and the gossipy faces of my colleagues turning to stare at me in unison. In a panic, I had tried to stand up, but a wave of hypoglycemia hit, and everything went black. I shot up, my mind racing. “Mr. Vaughan, I… I was…” I was possessed by a demon, my head was caught in a door, my brain was struck by lightning! “Was it the truth?” he interrupted, his calm tone sending a chill down my spine. The truth? The truth that I was calling him a fake, or the truth that I wanted him to have me in his heart? Both were a death sentence. Was I really going to admit that my stupid mouth was just used to trading cringey jokes with my best friend? My mouth opened, but no words came out. Finally, I buried my face in my knees and played dead. “Daisy,” he said my name, his voice quiet but overwhelmingly intense. “Is there something you want to say to me?” I jerked my head up, forcing a smile that was uglier than a grimace. “Mr. Vaughan, I just admire you so much. I got a little carried away and said some nonsense. Please don’t take it seriously!” He didn’t speak, just watched me. His gaze felt like it could pierce through my skull and see every thought. Just as I was about to faint again from the pressure, he finally spoke. “Get some rest.” With that, he stood up, straightened a non-existent wrinkle on his cuff, and left the infirmary. I let out a long breath, my body slumping back onto the bed. I survived. I thought the incident would blow over like a passing breeze. But I had severely underestimated the speed and power of office gossip. The next day, when I walked into the office with dark circles under my eyes, I was greeted by suggestive looks from every direction. “Daisy, you’ve been holding out on us!” “Yeah, you’re always so quiet. We never knew you had it in you to go after the ‘Ice King’!” “So, spill! What’s the latest? Did he say yes?” My colleagues surrounded my desk, their faces all screaming “Tell us everything!” I had no defense, so I just laughed nervously. “It’s a misunderstanding. A huge misunderstanding.” No one believed me. My best friend, Maya, sent me a message: “You’re famous. I heard you confessed your love to Axel in front of everyone, and he didn’t say no?” I was on the verge of tears. “I sent the message to the wrong person! It was meant for you.” Maya: “Then how do you explain the second message? ‘But why can’t he just fake having me in his heart?’ Daisy, has all that overtime melted your brain?” Me: “…My fingers were faster than my brain!” No one believed me, not even myself. What was even more terrifying was Axel’s behavior. He never asked me to work overtime again. Once, as the workday was ending, he even walked over to my desk and tapped it. “If you’re done, you can head home early.” The entire office immediately shot me “I-ship-it” looks. I froze, watching him walk away. This was unbearable. For a whole week, I enjoyed the divine treatment of a nine-to-five schedule with full weekends. The price was becoming the center of attention for the entire company. Everyone looked at me like I was the future boss’s wife. Even the cafeteria lady added an extra spoonful of sugar to my coffee, smiling and saying, “A little extra sweetness, Daisy. Romance takes a lot of energy.” I was going crazy. That night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind filled with Axel’s emotionless face and my colleagues’ knowing smiles. I couldn’t just let this happen. I had to get revenge for those five months of overtime. I had to vent the frustration from my breakup. I leaped out of bed and opened up Yelp. 2 In the search bar, I viciously typed two words: “Hit man.” The page refreshed, showing a bunch of listings for “MMA Sparring Partner” and “Boxing Experience.” I randomly clicked on one. The profile picture was a delivery guy in a helmet. I got straight to the point: “Hi, I’m looking for someone to beat up my boss. Male, about 6’1″, looks pretty built.” The reply was instantaneous: “…” I added: “Money is not an issue.” A few seconds later, a long voice message came through. I played it, and an overly positive male voice filled the air. “Ma’am, everything is tracked these days. Hiring someone to assault another person is a serious crime. You’ll go to jail! It’s not worth throwing your life away over some boss.” “Take my advice, there are plenty of fish in the sea. Quit your job, start a new life! Look on the bright side!” Me: “…” What a kind-hearted delivery guy. I quietly closed the app. Violence was not the answer. But his words gave me an idea. If Axel was so afraid of a romantic scandal, then I would make the scandal a reality! He wanted that promotion to headquarters, right? At a critical time like this, the last thing he needed was a messy entanglement with a subordinate. If I played the part of the “admirer” foolishly and loudly enough for everyone to know, he would have to avoid me to protect his reputation. Then, forget giving me a hard time, he probably wouldn’t even want to be in the same room as me. I was a genius! A perfect revenge plan began to form in my mind. Step one was to make my “crush” even more public. I needed a platform. So I went to the anonymous section of the company’s internal forum and created a post. Title: “Help! How do I win over the handsome, cold director of my department?” I wrote the post with heartfelt sincerity, portraying myself as a humble employee, madly in love and willing to do anything. To add a touch of authenticity, I subtly mentioned a few of Axel’s habits that only people in our department would know, like how he only drank pour-over black coffee and tapped his knuckles on the table during meetings. The post blew up instantly. “The OP is Daisy from the planning department, right? Grabbing my popcorn!” “Whoa, is this the hero who confessed her feelings in public? I salute you!” “A guy like Mr. Vaughan is a tough nut to crack. Good luck, OP!” Watching the replies pour in, I smiled with satisfaction. Now that I had the hype, it was time for action. Netizens flocked to give me advice. The top-voted comment was: “The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach! Make him a lunchbox!” Good idea. The next day, I woke up early and spent two hours in the kitchen, producing a lunchbox that looked… abstract. I tried to shape the rice into a heart, but it ended up as an unidentifiable lump. The broccoli was overcooked and yellowed. The only protein was pan-seared chicken breast, which was burnt to a crisp. I stared at my creation in silence. Oh well, it’s the thought that counts. I was afraid that if I made it too well, he might actually fall for me. My goal was to gross him out, after all. I packed the lunchbox and took it to work. During lunch, while Axel was in a meeting, I sneaked over and placed the lunchbox on his desk, complete with a sticky note adorned with a giant heart. After my covert operation, I scurried back to my seat. I waited for him to return, see the “lovingly-prepared” lunch, and then toss it in the trash with a look of disgust. However, when he came back, he just glanced at the lunchbox calmly, picked it up, and walked into his private office. The entire afternoon, there was no sign of movement. I was on pins and needles, constantly looking at his closed door. Did he eat it? No way. Even a dog would turn its nose up at that. 3 As the workday was ending, the door to Axel’s office finally opened. He walked out, holding the now-empty lunchbox. He came straight to my desk and placed the sparkling clean container on it. “Thank you,” he said, looking at me, his tone as neutral as ever. “It was good. A little salty, though.” I was completely dumbfounded. Not only did he eat it, he washed the container and even gave me feedback? This wasn’t how the script was supposed to go! He was supposed to hate foolish people. Every tiny mistake I made at work in the past was met with public humiliation and a look that screamed “idiot.” Wasn’t he supposed to be avoiding me like the plague? My colleagues started whispering again, the flames of gossip in their eyes burning brighter than ever. “Oh my god, he actually ate her lunch!” “And he washed the box! What kind of tsundere trope is this?!” “That’s it, they’re endgame! I’m shipping them so hard!” I could feel my face burning, not from embarrassment, but from rage. Axel! What are you playing at?! Step one of my plan was a spectacular failure. Undeterred, I went home and scrolled through the forum thread again. The second most popular suggestion: “Create a ‘chance’ encounter! Make him think you’re destined to be together!” Fine. A chance encounter. I found out from a colleague that Axel had a habit of jogging at night, usually around 8 PM at the riverside park near the office. The next evening at 7:50, I showed up at the park entrance, dressed in full athletic gear. I pretended to stretch while scanning the area. At 8:10, a tall figure came jogging from a distance. It was him! I immediately controlled my breathing, adopted my most graceful running form, and ran towards him. When I was about ten feet away, I “tripped” and fell gracefully towards him. According to my plan, he would instinctively dodge, and I would fall spectacularly in front of him, playing the victim and making him see me as a clumsy nuisance. But to my surprise, not only did he not dodge, he reached out and caught me firmly in his arms. My face slammed into his hard chest, nearly breaking my nose. A strong, masculine scent mixed with sweat enveloped me. “Are you okay?” His voice came from above my head, slightly breathless from the run. It sounded… kind of sexy. I pushed him away abruptly, clutching my nose and taking a few steps back. “I-I’m fine, thank you, Mr. Thor—” “Call me Axel.” He cut me off. I froze. He looked at me, his eyes shining brighter than the stars in the night sky. “We’re outside the office. No need to be so formal.” My heart skipped a beat. The plan had failed again. Not only had I failed to make him hate me, but I had also somehow gotten him to let me use his first name. I went home dejected and buried my face in the sofa cushions. Maya called. “How’s it going, my hero? What drama did you stage today?” I told her about the “chance” encounter at the park, and she laughed so hard she could barely breathe. “Daisy, oh, Daisy. Are you sure you’re trying to get revenge on him and not just reenacting a rom-com?” “First the lunchbox, now the fake fall. What’s next? You’re going to get sick in the rain so he can take you to the hospital?” Her words left me speechless. “Let me tell you, a guy like Axel is a total enigma. The more you pursue him, the more he’ll find you interesting. You’re playing with fire.” “Then what should I do?” I asked desperately. “Nothing you can do now,” Maya said, gloating. “Unless you want to march up to him and tell him it was all an act and you actually can’t stand him.” I fell silent. I didn’t have the guts. I was afraid that the moment I did, he would happily reintroduce me to the joys of five consecutive months of overtime. After hanging up, I opened the forum thread again. It had over a thousand replies, the enthusiasm of the netizens far exceeding my expectations. The latest top-voted comment proposed a new strategy, one that was getting a ton of likes. I braced myself, read it, and was left utterly speechless.

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1 I hired the most popular guy on campus to be my boyfriend. When Brian took my money, he frowned and gave me a strict warning. “I just really need the cash. Don’t go catching real feelings for me.” I knew he didn’t like me. But I was so starved for affection that I just needed someone to pretend. I needed someone to act like they loved me. That was until his childhood best friend hunted me down and confronted me in front of a massive crowd. “Kitty, you can’t force love,” Sienna said, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Brian only has me in his heart.” She smirked, stepping closer. “You probably didn’t even know this, but all that money you gave him? He used it to buy me gifts.” A wave of mocking laughter echoed from the students gathered around us. Instead of crying, I started laughing too. I turned away from them and addressed the entire crowd. “I am officially taking applications for my next boyfriend. The salary is fifteen thousand dollars a month. There is only one requirement.” I paused, letting my eyes sweep over the stunned faces. “You have to be a good actor. Don’t break character and ruin the illusion for me.” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire courtyard went dead silent. Brian, who had been standing protectively in front of Sienna, instantly lost the color in his face. He stepped forward, his voice tight with panic. “Kitty, stop being so unreasonable! We both got what we wanted out of this arrangement. Sienna didn’t even say anything wrong.” He clenched his jaw, trying to regain the upper hand. “Do you really think throwing a tantrum is going to make me bow down and apologize to you? I’m not going to scold Sienna for telling the truth.” Sienna took her cue perfectly. She leaned out from behind him, her eyes turning red and her voice trembling with manufactured grievance. “Kitty, I know you come from a lot of money, but you can’t just humiliate people like this. Acting this way is only going to make Brian hate you more.” Hearing their little duet, the crowd started snickering again, this time much louder. “I knew it. There is no way Kitty doesn’t care.” “Seriously, everyone knows she’s been obsessed with him since the first day of freshman year.” “Brian has it rough. Having to put up with a spoiled heiress just to take care of Sienna.” Listening to the whispers of the crowd, the panic on Brian’s face faded, replaced by a sickening look of superiority. He looked down at me, using a tone that sounded like he was handing out charity. “Kitty, apologize to Sienna right now. If you don’t, I am completely done playing this game with you.” I let out a soft scoff. He was done playing? Perfect. I had been wanting to end this incredibly boring arrangement for weeks. Lately, Brian’s acting skills had taken a massive nosedive. The affection in his eyes was so sloppy and halfhearted that it totally ruined the fantasy. I was paying top dollar for the premium girlfriend experience, not to watch a distracted amateur slack off on the job. While Brian was busy issuing his arrogant ultimatums, my gaze was already wandering through the crowd, scouting for a replacement. Finally, my eyes landed on a guy standing near the back. He had a clean, refined aura and strikingly handsome features. I raised my hand and pointed right at him. “You’ll do.” I locked eyes with him. “You. Do you want to be my next boyfriend?” The guy blinked in surprise, pointing a long finger at his own chest. “Me?” Before he could even give me an answer, Brian’s furious voice cracked like a whip across the courtyard. “Kitty! You are crossing the line!” He took a step toward me, his fists clenched. “If you keep acting crazy like this, don’t blame me when I actually cut ties with you!” He was still using a breakup as a threat, acting as if losing him was some kind of devastating punishment. His sheer delusion almost made me laugh out loud. I genuinely wondered where he got the confidence to think I was helplessly in love with him. Was it just because of his slightly above average face? If I hadn’t wanted to experience a normal, sweet college romance, a lucrative, zero effort job like this would have never fallen into his lap. My parents had a standard corporate marriage. For as long as I could remember, they lived entirely separate lives. When I was little, I didn’t understand. I used to cry and throw tantrums, desperately wanting a warm, normal family. I vividly remembered asking my father about it one night. “Dad, why can’t you and Mom just stay home with me? You had me, doesn’t that mean you love each other?” My father had been in a rush to attend a birthday party for one of his illegitimate children, but he still paused, crouching down to look me in the eye. “Kitty, my marriage to your mother was simply a highly successful business transaction.” He patted my head. “Love is just a fragile, invisible concept. As long as you have enough money, you can buy as much of it as you want. Only power and profit are eternal. Look at me and your mother. We have plenty of other children out in the world, but none of them will ever threaten your position as the sole heir. Do you understand?” From that day on, his words became my absolute truth. Love could be bought. So, the second I got to college, I couldn’t wait to test the theory. I wanted to know what love tasted like. I decided to buy myself a flawless, picture perfect campus romance. I only picked Brian because the entire student body had crowned him the hottest guy on campus. I am a Kensington. If I want something, I only take the absolute best. It was that simple. 2 I completely ignored Brian’s existence and kept my eyes fixed on the handsome guy at the back of the crowd. “Are you hesitating?” I asked smoothly. “Do you think the pay is too low? I can throw in an apartment right off campus.” I offered him a relaxed smile. “Don’t worry, it’s a completely legal gift. No strings attached, and I won’t take it back.” I had originally bought that apartment as a gift for my boyfriend anyway. Since the position had just opened up, the perks naturally rolled over to the new hire. I gestured for him to open his phone. While he was still looking at me in a daze, I transferred fifteen thousand dollars directly into his account with a few quick taps. As the crowd erupted into shocked gasps, I lifted my chin and looked at my new boyfriend. “Don’t forget to bring me breakfast tomorrow morning, babe.” I turned my head slightly, catching Brian in my peripheral vision. “And as for you, Brian. You’re fired.” Without giving Brian’s furious, pale face another glance, I turned on my heel and walked away from the toxic drama, heading straight back to my family’s estate. The next morning, the moment I stepped into my first lecture hall, I saw a tall, lean figure waiting patiently by my seat. It was Finn. My new boyfriend. He had already set up a steaming hot breakfast on my desk, complete with a gourmet iced coffee, the straw perfectly unwrapped. When he saw me walk in, he looked up, his lips curving into a warm, genuine smile. “Good morning, Kitty. I wasn’t entirely sure what you liked, so I got a little bit of everything.” Looking at his attentive, gentle demeanor, the lingering annoyance I felt from dealing with Brian vanished into thin air. This was exactly it. This was the premium service my money was supposed to buy. This was the sweet college romance I had been looking forward to. I took my seat, my mood instantly lifting. When I spoke, my voice was noticeably softer than usual. “The deed to the apartment has already been transferred to your name. Go check it out after classes today. If there is anything you don’t like, or if you need new furniture, just text me. I’ll have my team handle it.” Finn’s eyes visibly lit up. The expression on his face grew even more tender and devoted. “Kitty, you are way too good to me. I promise I will never let you down.” Seeing how effortlessly he slipped into the role, a tiny sliver of regret crossed my mind. If I had known my money could buy such high quality, immersive affection, why did I waste so much time hung up on Brian’s useless popularity? What a waste of time and energy. From that day on, Finn and I were practically glued to each other. He was gentle, considerate, and detail oriented. He memorized all my preferences and always looked at me with deep, unwavering devotion in public. He gave me exactly the kind of love I craved. In return, I was incredibly generous. I constantly showered him with expensive gifts. Money really does elevate a person. Finn, who used to have a slightly rough, struggling college student vibe, slowly transformed. He developed an aura of quiet luxury, becoming the new elite heartthrob on campus. Everyone was obsessed with him. Meanwhile, Brian and Sienna had initially been completely convinced I was just throwing a tantrum, waiting for me to lower my head and beg him to come back. But as the days dragged on, they had to watch Finn and me walk around campus arm in arm. They had to watch Finn’s status skyrocket while Brian’s reputation crumbled. It got worse when Finn started picking me up and dropping me off in the sleek sports car Brian had been drooling over for months. The jealousy in Brian’s eyes was so intense it looked like it was going to burn a hole through his skull. He thought all of it belonged to him. The car, the luxury lifestyle, the status. He felt like he had endured the humiliation of dating me to earn those things, only to have them snatched away by some random nobody. Finally, Brian couldn’t take it anymore. He dragged Sienna along and aggressively blocked my path outside the library. “Kitty, we need to talk.” 3 Seeing the hostility radiating off him, Finn instantly stepped in front of me, shielding me from view. “What do you think you’re doing with Kitty?” Finn demanded, his voice dropping an octave. Brian sneered. “Back off. Who the hell do you think you are? This is between me and her.” I reached out and intertwined my fingers with Finn’s. I didn’t even bother looking at Brian. I just smiled and said, “Finn is my boyfriend. There is nothing you can say that he can’t hear.” I tilted my head. “Besides, Brian, you and I don’t have a relationship anymore, do we?” “Kitty, how can you be so cruel?” Sienna cried out, playing her delicate little flower routine perfectly. She looked heartbreakingly fragile. I actually took a moment to study her performance. “He is just using you for your money! He’s not like Brian…” she whimpered. “Using me for my money? I don’t mind,” I interrupted, a playful tone in my voice. “Actually, if you’re interested, I’m currently looking for a sweet little sister to dote on. The salary and perks are exactly the same.” Sienna’s sobbing stopped instantly. The tears froze on her cheeks. She stared at me, her eyes wide with absolute shock. Seeing her brain short circuit was highly entertaining, so I decided to push a little further. “I’ve always wondered what it feels like to have siblings. Are you turning down the offer?” Sienna’s lips parted. A highly calculated, complicated look flashed through her eyes. But before she could even form a sentence, Brian lost his mind. “Kitty! Stop humiliating people right to their faces!” Brian was practically shaking with rage. “Sienna and I are the same. Our bond is pure! It can’t be tainted by your filthy money! Do you think everyone in the world is as greedy and pathetic as the guy standing next to you? Do you think everyone has a price?” He looked down at the girl beside him. “Right, Sienna?” Feeling the intense weight of Brian’s gaze, Sienna’s body went completely rigid. She guiltily avoided his eyes, forcing a shaky, stubborn tone. “R-right. Brian is right! Our connection is real. We can’t be bought!” She looked back at me, her voice pleading. “Kitty, please stop holding a grudge. Just make up with him! I don’t want to be the reason you two fall apart.” I lost interest entirely. I looked away from them and leaned affectionately against Finn’s arm. “If you don’t want the job, forget it. I can’t force it. I’ll just find someone who actually knows how to play the sweet sister role.” I gave Brian a flat look. “And as for making up? Brian, I think you forgot something. From day one, this was nothing but a priced transaction. The contract is terminated. There is no ‘making up’.” I squeezed Finn’s arm. “Besides, I am extremely satisfied with Finn. He is vastly more competent at being a boyfriend than you ever were. I have absolutely no plans to replace him.” I was tired of wasting my breath on them. I raised my hand. The security detail I had waiting nearby immediately closed in. Brian and Sienna’s faces drained of color. Staring at the massive, intimidating bodyguards, all the righteous words died in their throats. They had no choice but to turn around and walk away in bitter defeat. On the ride home, Finn seemed distracted. After a long, heavy silence, he looked at me, his eyes full of puppy dog vulnerability. “Kitty… are you going to replace me one day, the same way you replaced Brian?” I answered him casually, staring out the window. “Maybe. But right now, I’m very happy with your work.” Finn went quiet for a long time. Finally, as if he had made a massive decision, he spoke up again. “Kitty, I have a few really good friends. They’re all really good looking, and they take great care of themselves. Would you be interested in meeting them?” Now that actually caught me off guard. I stared at him for a solid minute. He started to look a little nervous under my gaze, but eventually, I let out a low laugh and nodded. Finn moved fast. He booked a private dining room at an exclusive restaurant and called in his friends. Just like he promised, they were all incredibly handsome. More importantly, they knew how to read the room. They were charming, sweet, and kept me laughing the entire night. My mood was so good I ended up showering all of them with gifts. When I finally got back to the estate, I was still riding the high of the evening. I leaned back on the velvet sofa, idly planning which one of them I should take out shopping tomorrow. Right at that moment, my head butler knocked gently on the doorframe. “Miss, my apologies for the interruption. There is a young woman named Sienna at the front gate. she claims to be your sister, and she is asking to see you.”

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1 Walking through the front doors of the estate after my medspa appointment, I noticed every single staff member stopping dead in their tracks to stare at me. A wave of smug satisfaction washed over me. I laughed lightly. “I just went in for a chemical peel and some laser therapy. I didn’t get a face transplant. Are you all really going to stare at me like that?” But the smile froze on my face when a heavy broom handle came swinging at my head. “Who the hell are you? Why are you dressed in the Madam’s clothes?” The sharp crack of wood against my shoulder instantly extinguished any good mood I had left. Pain flared down my arm. “Have you all lost your minds? You don’t recognize me?” Jessica, one of the younger maids, sneered at me with absolute disgust. “You put on her designer clothes thinking you could seduce the boss and take her place? Keep dreaming! Mr. Wentworth wouldn’t touch a cheap streetwalker like you with a ten foot pole!” Before I could even process her words, Thomas, the head butler, rolled up his sleeves and shoved me hard in the chest. “Crawl back to whatever gutter you came from! Get out before I have the guards break your legs!” My head spun. I frantically dug into my purse, pulled out my compact mirror, and stared at my reflection. I was completely stunned. I had spent five hours and forty thousand dollars at the clinic. My face hadn’t changed at all. Even the tiny blemish near my hairline was exactly where it had been this morning. My stomach dropped. I lost all patience for whatever prank they were pulling. “Enough! Stop messing around. Just leave me alone, I have a headache.” Even though I was the heiress who owned this entire estate, I had always treated the staff like family. I joked with them constantly. I thought this was just a tasteless gag. But as I turned to walk up the grand staircase, a pair of rough, calloused hands violently grabbed the collar of my silk blouse. “Speak! What is your agenda here?” Thomas demanded, his voice turning lethal. The eyes that used to look at me with grandfatherly warmth were now filled with pure venom. My heart hammered against my ribs. This man had worked for my family for thirty years. He watched me grow up. When I was seven, he literally threw himself over me to block a pot of boiling soup from scalding my face. Now, he was looking at me like I was a monster. The other servants began closing in, grabbing heavy brass bookends and fireplace pokers. The groundskeeper actually raised a pair of sharp pruning shears. Panic seized my throat. I desperately fumbled with my designer bag and pulled out my driver’s license. “It’s me! Victoria! We literally had breakfast together this morning! Thomas, stop playing games, this isn’t funny anymore!” Thomas snatched the bag from my hands. He dug through it, and his expression darkened into pure rage. “So you not only impersonate her, but you steal her wallet too?” He spat on the marble floor. “If we don’t teach you a lesson today, you’ll think the Wentworth family is full of fools!” Two massive security guards lunged forward, pinning my arms behind my back like I was a violent criminal. The humiliation was unbearable. I thrashed wildly, fighting against their grip. “Thomas! Have you gone senile? Who pulled you out of the cold when you were begging on the streets? It was me!” I screamed, tears of absolute frustration burning my eyes. The only response I got was a heavy fist to my stomach. They beat me, dragged me across the driveway, and threw me out the wrought iron gates like a bag of garbage. I pulled myself up from the pavement, my entire body aching. Something was terribly, horrifyingly wrong. I pulled out my compact mirror again and stared at it from every conceivable angle. It was my face. It was undeniably me. So why did my entire household suddenly treat me like a stranger? Did my corporate rivals pay off my entire staff just to humiliate me on my own property? 2 The more I thought about it, the more suffocated I felt. I hailed a cab and headed straight to the downtown headquarters of Vanguard Corp, my husband Tristan’s company. Tristan was in the middle of an executive board meeting. I punched in the private passcode to the executive lounge and waited. Ten minutes later, the double doors opened. Tristan walked out, surrounded by a dozen vice presidents and directors. The second our eyes met, my emotional dam broke. “Tristan…” I sobbed, rushing forward to throw my arms around him. We had been together since high school. Twenty years of history. He could never stand to see me cry. Usually, the moment a single tear fell, he would panic more than my own father ever did. I was desperate to tell him what happened at the house. But before I could even get the words out, a brutal force shoved me backward. My spine slammed into the marble wall. The impact knocked the wind out of me, and black spots danced in my vision. “What the hell are you doing?” I looked up. Tristan was ripping a silk handkerchief from his pocket, frantically scrubbing the lapel of his suit where I had touched him, looking absolutely nauseated. He glared at me, his eyes cold and unfamiliar. “Miss, have some self respect. I am a married man.” A chorus of mocking laughter erupted from the executives in the hallway. “Did she not do her research? The CEO is famous for being obsessed with his wife. Try your cheap gold digger tricks somewhere else!” Ignoring the shooting pain in my back, I scrambled up and grabbed his sleeve. “It’s me! I’m Victoria! I’m your wife! Are you keeping another woman behind my back? Is that what this is?” Before I could finish the sentence, a stinging slap cracked across my cheek. “You psycho!” Tristan hissed. “You don’t deserve to speak her name! If you don’t back off right now, I’ll have you arrested for harassment.” Looking at his guarded, hostile eyes, ice flooded my veins. Servants could be bought with enough cash. But Tristan? He was already wildly wealthy because of our marriage. He couldn’t be bought. This man who had worshipped the ground I walked on was clearly in on the conspiracy. He wasn’t just trying to humiliate me. Was he cheating? Was he having an affair with one of the maids and trying to gaslight me out of my own life? I knew arguing in the lobby was pointless. The louder I screamed, the crazier I looked. I had to find the truth myself. Swallowing the bitter taste of blood in my mouth, I turned and walked out of the building to the sound of corporate executives laughing at my expense. The second I hit the sidewalk, I pulled out my phone. Before my father passed away, he had been a highly paranoid titan of industry. He insisted on wiring our entire estate with a hidden, encrypted surveillance network. Only I had the master access codes. I always thought he was being dramatic. I never expected to actually need it to survive a betrayal. I sat in a coffee shop for three hours, scrubbing through the estate’s security footage from the last three years. The conclusion was absolute. The chances of Tristan cheating were basically zero. He played the perfect, devoted husband. He never brought women home. He never even lingered near the female staff. If a maid ever tried to flirt with him, she was fired the very next morning. So if he wasn’t having an affair, why the hell was he pretending not to know me? Right as the question crossed my mind, my phone buzzed. It was the elite private kindergarten. In all the violent chaos, I had completely forgotten to pick up my daughter. 3 A sudden spark of clarity hit me. Everyone else could lie. Everyone else could pretend I didn’t exist. But Sophie was my flesh and blood. A five year old child couldn’t fake a reaction. If my daughter recognized me, it proved they were all conspiring against me. Once I had proof, I was going to systematically destroy Tristan and throw every single one of those backstabbing servants out onto the street. My steps quickened as I approached the school gates. The teacher walked Sophie out. Seeing her sweet, angelic little face instantly wiped away the nightmare of the afternoon. “Sophie!” I waved, my heart leaping into my throat. But Sophie froze. A flicker of deep hesitation crossed her face. My chest tightened painfully. Was she going to say she didn’t know me either? I had basically built my entire world around this little girl. I missed million dollar board meetings just to attend her parent teacher conferences. I walked away from massive corporate acquisitions just to sit on the floor and help her build block castles. “Mommy!” The sweet, familiar voice finally rang out. The relief was so intense my knees almost gave out. I knew it! Tristan was playing a sick, twisted game. He was actually brave enough to orchestrate a public humiliation against me? Whatever his endgame was, I was going to make him bleed for it. I smiled brightly and reached out to take her hand. But as my fingers brushed hers, she instinctively flinched and pulled away. I paused, confused. A second later, she cautiously reached back out and grabbed my hand. “Baby, is something wrong with Mommy today?” I asked softly. Sophie didn’t answer. Instead, she pointed across the busy street to a brightly lit candy shop. “Mommy, I want candy.” “You usually hate sweet things,” I noted, frowning slightly. “I just really want some today!” she whined, tugging my arm. “You promised if I got a gold star this week, I would get a reward!” I gently pinched her soft cheek. “Okay, sweetheart. Anything you want.” We crossed the street and stepped into the candy store. The second the glass door chimed shut behind us, two massive, heavily tattooed men stepped out from behind the aisles. Before I could even scream, they grabbed my hair and slammed me face first into the hard linoleum floor. Pure terror gripped me. My only instinct was to look up and find Sophie. What I saw shattered my reality into a million pieces. Tristan casually strolled into the candy shop. Sophie ran straight into his arms, burying her face in his expensive suit. Tristan gently stroked her hair. “Good job, Sophie. You did perfectly.” My daughter’s face showed zero panic. There were no tears. She just looked relieved, like she had just finished a chore. My brain felt like it was being pierced by hot needles. “Sophie…” I choked out, tasting blood on my lip. “Did you purposely lead me here?” I stared at the little girl I had birthed. “I’m your mother! Why are you doing this to me?!” I shifted my furious, desperate gaze to Tristan. “Is this your sick plan? You’re using our own daughter as bait? Are you even human?!” Tristan’s eyes turned instantly dark and vicious. He stepped forward and drove the toe of his leather dress shoe directly into my ribs. The agonizing pain forced me to curl into a tight ball. “I warned you at the office,” Tristan snarled, his voice dripping with venom. “I didn’t think you’d actually be crazy enough to impersonate my wife and try to kidnap our child.” 4 “Good thing I was prepared,” Tristan sneered down at me. “Caught red handed. You’re done playing games.” Sophie stepped out from behind his legs. She marched right up to me and started hitting my shoulders with her tiny fists. “You’re not my mommy!” she yelled, her face scrunched in anger. “You’re a bad lady! You’re a monster!” She wasn’t hitting me hard, but every single strike felt like a sledgehammer to my heart. My organs felt like they were bleeding out. One of the thugs pulled out a police badge, flashing it quickly before yanking my arms behind my back and snapping heavy metal handcuffs onto my wrists. “You are under arrest for identity theft and the attempted kidnapping of a minor,” the undercover cop said coldly. My mind went completely blank. The room was spinning. I just went to a clinic for a facial. Why had my entire universe collapsed? My staff threw me out. My husband accused me of sexual harassment. And now, picking up my own child was classified as kidnapping? Was my face cursed? Did the world suddenly see a completely different person when they looked at me? Before I could spiral any further, they dragged me out the back door and shoved me into an unmarked car. I was processed at the precinct in a blur. Someone ripped off my designer clothes and forced me into a stiff, scratchy orange jumpsuit. They locked me in a bleak interrogation room. When the heavy metal door finally opened, Tristan and Sophie walked in and sat on the opposite side of the steel table. Detective Sullivan walked in behind them, slamming his hands hard against the table. “Victoria Wentworth has been missing for forty eight hours. Why are you wearing her custom clothes? How did you get her personal identification?” Tristan lunged over the table, grabbing the collar of my jumpsuit, his eyes bloodshot with manufactured rage. “What did you do to my wife?!” he roared. “If you touched a single hair on her head, I will make you beg for death!” Sophie stood up on her chair, crying perfect, crocodile tears. “I want my mommy! Give her back!” My chest physically ached. I looked at the two of them, tears streaming down my face. “I am Victoria…” I whispered brokenly. “I’m right here…” Detective Sullivan let out a harsh, mocking laugh. He tossed a thick manila folder onto the metal table. “Drop the act. We already pulled your background check. Your name is Jane Doe, and you’re a career con artist with a long sheet of fraud charges.” I felt like I had been struck by lightning. I stared at the mugshot printed on the first page of the file. “You’re saying… this is what I look like?” I asked, pointing at the picture of a rugged, unfamiliar woman. Sullivan smirked. “Do you have amnesia? Do you not know what your own face looks like? Do you need a mirror?” He pulled a small vanity mirror from the evidence box and shoved it in front of my face. I grabbed it with shaking hands. The woman staring back at me was me. It was my face. Down to the exact placement of my fine lines and the shape of my eyes. I looked absolutely nothing like the mugshot of the con artist they just threw at me. Even a blind person couldn’t mix us up. Everything clicked. As I tilted the mirror slightly, I caught Tristan’s reflection in the background. For a fraction of a second, the grieving, panicked husband dropped his mask. A chilling, victorious smirk flashed across his face. In that split second, the fog cleared. I understood exactly what was happening. I calmly closed the mirror and set it face down on the table. A slow, chilling smile spread across my lips. “You want to know where Victoria is? I know exactly where she is.”

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