I worked part-time during college to make ends meet. I found a job, but rumors spread around campus that I was working in an unsavory industry. Years later, as if fulfilling their assumptions, I became a VIP room manager at a nightclub. At a class reunion, my former classmates mocked me with cold remarks. But the infamous lawyer Mr. Yates, known for his stern demeanor, unexpectedly knelt before me in his crisp suit— 0 “Ava, please, save me a room tonight…” I started working at Horizon, the city’s most popular nightclub, after graduating college. My job was VIP room sales, mainly booking private rooms and selling drinks. I was approaching 30 and had worked my way up to sales manager. Our team, mostly young women, consistently performed well. Lisa’s team also did well, though they occasionally had off nights. On those evenings, she would start bombarding me with messages on Snapchat as early as 5 PM, frantically saying: “Ava, how many rooms has your team booked? We only have three so far. If we’re really struggling by tonight, can you lend us some of your bookings? Next time there are difficult clients, I’ll have Angela and the girls help out with drinks.” Lisa was nine years my senior, a veritable cougar with permed reddish-brown hair. We got along well, mainly because of her straightforward personality. And I was even more direct than her. Horizon was the largest and liveliest nightclub in the city. There wasn’t much scheming between the sales teams, since besides Lisa and me, the only other sales manager we regularly dealt with was a man. We called him Chris. Chris was also easy to talk to and treated us all like sisters. At 7 PM, Horizon opened for business. The girls arrived one by one through the back entrance, gathering in the dressing room. Some still had remnants of last night’s makeup, mascara smudged around their eyes. Others arrived bare-faced in tank tops, carefully applying skincare in front of the mirror. Those who weren’t skilled at makeup could pay $30 for the part-time makeup artists to do a pretty look. The makeup artists brought basic foundation, but the girls usually requested to use their own MAC or Armani products. Of course, some didn’t bother, like the new college student on my team. She was introduced by her classmate Tina to work part-time. The girls here all used stage names. Tina’s real name was Chloe, a sophomore in college. Her friend had already picked out a name before coming – Mandy. Mandy looked a bit plain, with small eyes and a hesitant demeanor. Initially I didn’t want to take her on, but Tina clung to my arm and pleaded: “Come on Ava, let her stay. Her dad has cancer and is in the hospital. They’ve used up all their savings and are in debt. They can’t even afford her living expenses. She really needs the money.” I sighed reluctantly, “Not everyone is cut out for this line of work. Looks are secondary – with makeup, no one looks too bad. But in other aspects, do you really think she can handle those clients?” I’ve always been good at reading people. This girl was too naive – unlike Tina, who was lively and socially savvy. Tina had been working part-time here for almost a year. She was clever and could hold her liquor well. I once asked her why a nice girl like her would work in a place like this. She blinked innocently and said matter-of-factly: “I don’t have enough money. My mom only gives me $100 a month. One set of skincare products alone costs $180. Plus all the cute bags and shoes – who doesn’t like shopping for designer brands at the mall?” I’ve seen all kinds of reasons girls work in nightclubs, each more outlandish than the last. In Lisa’s group, there was a girl called Hannah who came to work here because of her boyfriend. The guy was constantly unemployed, lying around at home playing video games all day. So she came to work at the nightclub to support them both. Girls like that were rare. It usually took hitting rock bottom before they’d wake up. More common were girls like Mandy, who came to work here because they desperately needed money. And they needed a lot of money. Like my best friend at Horizon, Angela. She was already working here when I first started. Originally it was because she fell victim to an online shopping scam and maxed out her credit cards. She managed to pay off her debts and left for a year. But when I became a sales manager in charge of a team, she came back. This time it was because she got caught up in an online romance scam. She was brainwashed and took out all kinds of loans. Now she owed over $100,000. Then there was Yolanda, a 26-year-old single mom. She divorced due to domestic violence and was raising two kids on her own. Everyone had their reasons for working in nightclubs, but not everyone was suited for it. But Tina kept insisting, even promising: “No one is born cut out for this industry. Don’t worry Ava, Mandy is very adaptable. I can help her. How about this – let her try for a few days with me guiding her. If you’re still not satisfied then, you can let her go.” Because of that, Mandy really did end up staying. She didn’t have great features, so she always carefully had her makeup done by the makeup artists. I have to say, with makeup she looked quite innocent and sweet, a bit like that Korean actress with small eyes, Jung Da-bin. I knew that agreeing to keep her was partly because of what Tina said – “No one is born cut out for this industry.” Every evening around 6-7 PM, the two large dressing rooms and changing rooms would be bustling with noise and activity. In the end, everyone would emerge dolled up and glamorous. When changing, if they couldn’t reach the clasps on their bras, they’d even call Chris over to help. After it all quieted down, I would usually light a cigarette in the dressing room, exhaling smoke as I stared at my solemn reflection in the mirror, feeling strange and distant. I once told Tina: “When I was in college, my monthly living expenses were only $50. You’re still young, so those designer skincare products and bags aren’t necessities. You’ll have chances to buy them in the future.” Tina dismissed this, simply telling me: “Times are different now, Ava.” Times may be different, but some truths remain the same. As the famous quote from Zweig’s “Marie Antoinette” goes – “All the gifts bestowed by fate have their price tag already marked.” Some people are born with everything, silver spoons in their mouths. Others are born with nothing, in abject poverty. We all enter this world differently. Life has no rehearsals or scripts. Once a path is walked, it cannot be retraced. That’s why we should cherish the good cards we’re dealt. And when dealt a bad hand, we must study it carefully and play to win big. It would be a shame to only play a bit part on the stage of your own life. As I stared into the mirror lost in thought, cigarette smoke swirling, I couldn’t help but wonder what my era was like. At 20, I seemed to be like Mandy – introverted and reserved, walking with my head down in silence. The difference was, I had no friends at school back then. And because of a boy’s impulsive confession, I became a public enemy, subjected to insults and abuse. Then I would naturally think of Zack, that little troublemaker who shone a light into my long, dark life. In my memories, he smiled at me backlit, forever young. Those thick, unruly eyebrows. The hint of mischief in his eyes. Even after all these years, the memory remained vivid and alive. Those recollections would make me irritably stub out my cigarette. I’d spend a few minutes composing myself, then walk out of the dressing room as if nothing had happened. I’d hold a quick meeting with my team in the main hall. Then everyone would get to work, welcoming clients amidst the lavish and bustling atmosphere of the nightclub. The same routine every night – singing karaoke, playing dice games, drinking, whispering in ears…VIP packages with expensive liquor on the table. As long as the clients’ dirty jokes and wandering hands didn’t go too far, the girls could flirtatiously fend them off. Nightclubs nowadays are different from before. I still remember 10 years ago when Frank partnered with someone to open a karaoke club. Back then it was truly chaotic, breeding grounds for criminal activity. The clubs had nude shows, erotic dances, almost becoming a seedy industry chain. There were other unsavory dealings too. Frank felt helpless at the time – he wanted to establish roots in the city, but there were people he had to rely on. Many things he didn’t want to do, he had no power to refuse. Fortunately, he’s made it big now and gone legitimate. In both legal and illegal circles of the city, mentioning his name now inspires a degree of fear. Frank owns many businesses – restaurants, clubs, tech companies…Perhaps knowing how hard it was to go clean, he’s completely distanced himself from any illegal activities. Take Horizon for example. Despite being a nightclub, it was even nominated as one of the “Top 10 Civilized Establishments” in the city’s year-end evaluations. I’ve long known that Frank is a ruthless man. Horizon operates until 2-3 AM. By closing time, everyone reeks of alcohol. Some of the more energetic girls will invite others out for late night snacks after work. I rarely join their after-work activities. When faced with enthusiastic invitations, I just smile and say: “You girls go ahead. I’m getting old and can’t keep up with you young ladies. I need to rest or I’ll get wrinkles.” I’ve always had trouble sleeping, so I usually go straight home. There are always lots of taxis waiting outside Horizon at that hour. Lately when leaving, I’ve made a habit of glancing towards the east end of the street. Sure enough, for a week now, that black Mercedes has been waiting there at the same time. The person inside seemed to notice me. A tall, straight figure got out of the car. From a distance, the man stood with his hand on the car door, gazing over steadily. I ignored him and got directly into a taxi, giving my address. After arriving at my apartment complex and paying the fare, I unsurprisingly saw that Mercedes had followed me here. For most people, this might seem scary. But not this man. His name was Ethan Yates, a lawyer. More specifically, he was a well-known lawyer in the city. Ethan came from a good family and graduated from law school at Kingsley University. His father was a judge and his mother worked for the prosecutor’s office. He was famous even in school. While getting his master’s degree, he worked with a law firm in Southport on a high-profile forensic evidence case, with the university’s recommendation. Two years ago, he co-founded Kingsley Law Firm with some college classmates. He specialized in criminal defense and handling complex legal matters. I knew a lot about him, not just because I also went to Kingsley, but because I had just dumped him a week ago. “Dumped” may not be the right word, since we were never really in a proper relationship to begin with. Two months ago, their law firm helped the CEO of Qishi Group win an economic dispute case. The CEO booked a room at Horizon and insisted on inviting the lawyers to celebrate. The room was booked through Angela, so the commission went to our team. The CEO generously ordered the Hennessy package, so I went to offer some toasts. That’s how I met Ethan. The large private room was packed, with the CEO and his group all seated. Amidst the clinking glasses and dazzling lights, the lively atmosphere was in full swing. I exchanged some pleasantries with the CEO, who then introduced me to Ethan. “Ava, I hear from Angela that you also graduated from Kingsley? Come, let me introduce you to Mr. Yates – a fellow alumna, and quite a beauty too.” The room was crowded and I hadn’t noticed him at first. But when our eyes met, the air seemed to freeze for a moment. There’s always a certain chemistry between people. Ethan was young and handsome, in a way befitting an elite lawyer’s proper image. Sleek, impeccable hair. A smooth forehead and high nose bridge. Thin lips pressed together. Handsome, faultless features. He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking scholarly and refined, while also cleverly concealing the sharp glint in his deep-set eyes. One glance was enough for me to know something should happen between us. Rumor had it that Ethan never drank and had a cold personality. Whether for work or in private, he was said to rarely smile. That night, true to the rumors, he had been dragged there by another partner at the firm. He didn’t drink a drop of alcohol the whole time, and no women were seated next to him. It was clear he disliked such occasions. Though his face remained impassive, his occasionally furrowed brow betrayed his irritation. Fortunately, I came to his rescue. I sat down next to him, meeting his inquiring gaze. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Yates.” “You also graduated from Kingsley?” Ethan’s voice was cool and low. He turned slightly to look at me, light reflecting off his glasses and illuminating his dark pupils with a deep, mysterious glow. When a man takes initiative to ask questions about a woman, it means he doesn’t dislike her. I’ve always known I’m good-looking. After years in the nightlife industry, the smile on my face was polite and gentle. If I wanted, that gentleness could take on a flirtatious edge. I had graduated from Kingsley a year ahead of him, so I suppose I was his senior. Ethan must have been very puzzled as to why a Kingsley graduate would be working at a nightclub. I didn’t need to explain this to him. If he was interested in me, he’d find out everything with a bit of digging later. That night at closing time, I took the initiative to ask if he could give me a ride home. He sat in the car looking at me, raising an eyebrow. His gaze was deep and unreadable. In the end, he silently allowed me to open the passenger door. When we arrived at my apartment, as I was getting out, I asked with a smile: “Want to come up for coffee?” It was a clear invitation. We were both adults, no need to beat around the bush. I looked at him openly, my expression calm. As if it didn’t matter whether he refused or not. He pressed his lips together, eyeing me. Finally he said: “Do you live alone?” “Of course.” “…Do we need to stop by a convenience store first?” “No need, I have supplies at home.” I smiled coyly at him, deepening the curve of my lips: “Plenty.” Our eyes met. Ethan frowned. In that moment, he was hesitant and conflicted. I could guess what he was thinking – on one side, the shackles of morality. On the other, an attractive woman with good chemistry, nonchalantly propositioning him. And he happened to be single, at an age when passions run high. He was a lawyer, not a saint. So he took the bait. Mr. Yates was quite restrained at first. But once we got upstairs and he took off those glasses and loosened his shirt, he was every bit the wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was gone when I woke up the next day. By the time I got up it was already 11 AM. There was a stack of cash on the nightstand. Perfect. We both got what we wanted, no need for emotional baggage on either side. I sat in a chair on the balcony. As the midday sun blazed, I lit a cigarette, examining the tiny ember at the tip. Just before it burned out, I took a deep drag. The feeling of smoke filling my lungs was strangely satisfying. 0

A few days passed with no word from Ethan. But half a month later, I made an excuse to seek him out. It started with that girl Mandy getting her head smashed with a bottle. The man who hit her was called Harvey, a regular at Horizon. We usually called him Mr. He. That’s right, he was a rich second-generation heir. And he was infamous in the city for his arrogance. When I rushed over after hearing the news, I pushed open the door to see Mandy crouched on the ground clutching her head, blood seeping through her fingers. Tina and the others stood to the side, faces pale, not daring to make a sound. Seeing me enter, the young heir narrowed his eyes and sneered: “Ava, am I short on cash or stingy with tips? Why the hell are you sending me these prudes? Playing hard to get when I’m trying to drink with them. Who do they think they are, trying to act all chaste in a place like this?” I didn’t need to guess what happened. Keeping a smile on my face, I went over to help Mandy up. “I’m so sorry Mr. He, we’ve ruined your good time. Please don’t be angry, we can talk this out. Let me call someone to take the girl to the hospital first. That bottle was no joke.” Chris and the others who had rushed over took Mandy away. I gestured for Tina and the rest to leave too, leaving only myself and the floor manager Ryan to smooth things over. I’ve known Ryan for over a decade, back when Frank was just starting out in the city. He was about the same age as Frank, a gruff man in his late 30s. For him, this kind of scene was nothing new. Good-naturedly, Ryan chatted with Harvey for a bit, then said: “The girl was out of line, she definitely needs more training. But Mr. He, we’re living in a society of law and order now. Hitting people is still not right, no matter what.” Harvey was young and arrogant. He retorted dismissively: “I was just trying to scare her. Who knew she’d be dumb enough not to dodge. Fine, I hit her – I’ll pay the medical bills, that’s that.” Rich people are always so fearless. I smiled and said: “Mr. He, that blow was no joke. It’s a concussion at the very least. The bill won’t be less than $70-80,000.” “What? How much did you say?” Harvey looked at me like he’d heard a joke, laughing coldly. “You think you can just name a price? Who do you think you are?” “Who I am doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’ll be paying not just medical bills, but emotional damages too. If the poor girl is traumatized for life, that shadow will follow her forever.” I smiled calmly as I watched his face grow increasingly dark. Then I added: “If Mr. He thinks the price is too high, how about I call Frank and let him discuss it with you?” I’ve said before, in this city, mentioning Frank’s name always inspires a degree of fear. Harvey stared at me, his expression flickering between anger and uncertainty. Finally he let out a laugh. “Fine, whatever price you name. I’ve got plenty of money. Next time if I accidentally hit you on the head, we’ll use the same rate to settle up.” The threat in his words was clear. I just smiled silently as I looked at him. Ryan frowned first. “Mr. He, you can’t say things like that.” Harvey laughed heartily. “It’s just a joke, why so serious? Ava’s no ordinary woman, how could I dare touch her? Would Frank let me off if I did?” He was right. He wouldn’t dare touch me. Everyone knew that Ava, the sales manager at Horizon, was under Frank’s protection. In fact, many people booked rooms through me as a way to get on Frank’s good side. Ryan drove me to the hospital. Tina was crying when she saw me: “I’m so sorry Ava, I didn’t know Room 503 was Harvey’s. He came late, and when he arrived he specifically asked for Mandy to drink with him. There was nothing I could do no matter what I said.” She felt very guilty. When Mandy first started, I had repeatedly instructed Tina to only let her into rooms with familiar, well-behaved clients until she got used to the work. There were clear finger marks on Tina’s face from being slapped, no doubt by Harvey as well. I patted her shoulder reassuringly. “It’s alright. Look on the bright side – now Mandy will have money to pay for her dad’s medical bills.” Mandy wasn’t seriously hurt. The diagnosis was a moderate concussion, requiring a few days in the hospital. As I expected, she was quite willing to settle privately. No one turns down money. Especially such a large sum. After leaving the hospital, I went straight home. Checking the time, it was almost midnight. After some thought, I called Ethan at this hour. I had found his number on the law firm’s official website. When he picked up, his voice was cool and low as usual, with a hint of annoyance at being woken up: “Hello, who is this?” “Mr. Yates, this is Ava from Horizon Nightclub.” “…” Ethan didn’t speak. He seemed to have woken up fully, falling into a brief silence. I laughed lightly. “I’m sorry, one of our girls was just assaulted. I wanted to consult you on whether we can press criminal charges for intentional injury.” “Where are you right now?” “Um, I just got home from the hospital.” I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, gazing out into the dark night. A smile slowly curved my lips. “I don’t know if you could come over at this hour. I can tell you all the details of what happened.” About half an hour later, in the dead of night, Ethan arrived as requested. When I opened the door wearing a lace camisole dress and holding a bottle of wine, he raised an eyebrow, as if expecting this. I smiled too, my damp hair falling loosely around my ears. I raised the wine bottle. “Want a drink?” “I don’t drink.” “Oh? What happens if you do?” He gazed at me intently, moving closer to grip my waist. Lowering his head to my ear, he let out a soft laugh. “I go crazy.”

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I died in the year I loved him most. His fortune, worth hundreds of millions—he just walked away from it all. He let his entire empire burn, just to be with me. Then I opened my eyes again, ten years earlier. We had just gotten married, and I hated him more than anyone. I rushed to his company, and the moment I saw him, I choked out, “Julian, I’m sorry.” He froze for a brief moment, then his expression turned cold. “Go on, tell me. How are you going to torture me this time?” I remember Julian didn’t make it out of that final explosion. He, who was always so impeccably neat, knelt beside me and whispered, “Clara, don’t be scared. I’m here with you.” He was 38 that year. A fortune worth hundreds of millions—he just walked away from it all. He let his entire empire burn, just to be with me. … It was a midsummer evening, and the setting sun outside the window bled like fire. A muggy breeze drifted into the room. I woke from my dream, sitting on the bed in a daze. The alarm clock in the corner ticked softly, and the desk calendar lay quietly on the table. “Madam, Mr. Julian just called. He said he won’t be back tonight.” Martha’s voice drifted in from the living room, calm and peaceful. I looked down at the brand-new wedding ring on my ring finger. I closed my eyes for a moment. I was actually back ten years in the past. The sky-high flames from before I died, and that warm, strong embrace, felt so real. In his final moments, Julian had still been telling me, “Don’t be afraid, Clara. I’ve waited for you for too long in this life. In the next, I’ll find you early.” Was this a dream, or reality? I pinched myself, and a dull ache shot up my thigh. The blaring car horns outside the window jolted my chaotic thoughts awake. After the initial shock, a deep, lingering ache and bitterness washed over me. A meticulously orchestrated misunderstanding had made me hate Julian for many years. During that time, his rivals used every dirty trick to crush him. They left him no room to breathe. At home, my coldness kept him away, so he rarely came back. Julian’s parents had passed away young, and he had no other relatives. He lived for half his life, guarding a vast business empire all alone. Later, the misunderstanding was resolved. We had a brief six months of happiness, and I even became pregnant with our child. But before I could tell him the news, I died a tragic death. … “Madam, the flowers have arrived. Are you ready to go?” Martha came in to ask. “What?” My mind was still reeling. “The flowers, weren’t you going to see Mr. Noah?” Noah… Hearing that name suddenly, I froze. A tangled mess of thoughts suddenly found a thread. So, it was this day.

Noah was my childhood friend. He was also a very talented actor. Unfortunately… a “accident” left him with severe burns all over his body, requiring long-term hospitalization. On this day in my previous life, I carried a bouquet of flowers to the hospital. After celebrating Noah’s birthday at the hospital, I emerged to find Julian sitting in his car, a cigarette burning down to its filter between his fingers, completely oblivious. I didn’t want to explain anything, didn’t even want to see him. “Clara.” Julian spotted me, stubbed out his cigarette, and got out of the car, his voice filled with sorrow. “…It’s my birthday today.” I stopped, turning back to look at him coldly. “So what?” Julian’s dark eyes stared at me, silent. I said, “It’s Noah’s birthday too. You did whatever it took to marry me, ruined his face, and destroyed his future. What more do you want from me?” Julian opened his mouth, but only managed to say, “That was just an accident…” “If you hadn’t invited him that day, he wouldn’t be lying in a hospital now. How can I believe that was an accident?” Julian fell silent. Finally, he told me, “I’m sorry.” From that day on, my relationship with Julian plummeted. A long and agonizing cold war began. Later, I learned that what even Julian believed was an “accident” was nothing more than a scheme by certain people to drive a wedge between us.

“I’ve already put your things in the car for you. If you leave any later, you’ll hit traffic.” Martha came back to call me. Outside the window, the sunset was halfway down, casting dim light. I snapped back to reality, hastily pulling on my coat, and got into the car. Because I suddenly realized that this was ten years ago, and everything could still be changed. The driver merged into traffic. “This road to the hospital is already jammed. Maybe you should call Mr. Noah and ask him to wait…” “Not the hospital.” I looked at the constantly changing traffic lights outside the window, and changed my mind. “To the company.” … Truth be told, I didn’t have many memories of Julian’s company. When I was younger, I hated him so much I never bothered to visit. Later, when I loved him, he was being targeted by enemies, and danger lurked everywhere, so I didn’t dare go looking for him. Which is why, at this moment, standing beneath a cluster of towering office buildings, I felt a bit lost. Which one was his office building anyway? Passersby eyed me curiously: holding a giant bouquet, dressed elegantly, with makeup on, like a girl about to confess her feelings. I awkwardly pulled out my phone and dialed Julian’s number. Just his full name. Not even listed as an emergency contact. I pressed call, expecting to wait a long time. But after just two short rings, he picked up. His cool, distant voice came through the receiver. “What is it?” Hearing his voice again, my eyes suddenly welled up, and my voice involuntarily caught in my throat. “Julian, where’s your office? I can’t find it…” The passersby looked at me even stranger. A woman who couldn’t find her husband’s office, standing on the curb, sobbing. Julian seemed to be in a meeting. He paused briefly, then said, “Let’s stop here for today.” Then he told me, “Go stand on the sidewalk. I’m coming down.” A few minutes later, Julian walked out of the office building. His tall figure cut through the neon lights, dressed in a sharp suit, noble and self-possessed. In contrast, my reflection in the glass showed eyeliner streaking down with my tears, like the girl from ‘Orphan’. Damn it, it was all ruined. “Why are you here?” His tone was flat, almost icy. I turned my head. The tall, handsome man was looking at me with a cold expression, his pupils reflecting my scribbled-on face, his expression stiffening slightly. No matter when, Julian was always perfectly composed. Like a flower blooming on a cliff, unsullied. “I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my head, not daring to look at him. “Did I bother you…” “Today…” He only said two words, then stopped. I knew what he wanted to say. Today, I should be celebrating Noah’s birthday, not showing up here. That actually reminded me. I shoved the flowers into his arms, mumbling vaguely, “Happy birthday.” A long silence followed. I secretly glanced at him and noticed he was staring at the bouquet, but he didn’t look very happy. After a long moment, he let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh. “Clara, those are his discards, aren’t they?” “What?” I realized his mood had shifted, and my gaze suddenly fell on the bouquet, my heart sinking. Oh no! Ice-blue roses. Their meaning: to give you the stars and the sea. Noah’s favorite things were also the stars and the sea. My memories upon waking had been too chaotic. I’d been so focused on finding Julian that I’d overlooked these details. “I’m sorry, I—” “Thank you for the birthday gift.” Julian’s tone was almost stiff. “It’s getting late. Have the driver take you home.” He turned to leave. I quickly grabbed the hem of his suit. “Wait!” Julian hadn’t expected my move and didn’t stop, causing me to stumble and crash hard into his back. His bespoke suit was a crumpled, colorful mess. Julian turned, staring at my fingers, silent for a long time. I was stubborn, insisting, “Julian, I’m not going back.” His expression was desolate. “Clara, how are you going to torture me this time?” That question was really hard to answer. From my memories, Julian and I had just gotten married around this time, and I was constantly picking fights with him. I was 23, he was 28.

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My lover has delusions. He sees me as his enemy, his mortal foe, the one person he despises most. Day after day, I play along with his twisted game. Until one day, I just couldn’t anymore. I was diagnosed with cancer. **1** When I got home, the house was dark. I dropped my bag, kicked off my shoes, and fumbled for the light switch on the wall. The moment my hand hit the switch, a plate flew past my head. I ducked, barely dodging it. The lights flickered on. Julian stood on the stairs, his face utterly blank as he stared at me. “So, you decided to show up.” “…” I managed a small smile and walked over to him. I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. “Can you stop acting like a whiny, complaining partner, Julian?” He smelled faintly of the cologne I’d picked out for him, a floral scent. I always hoped it would soften the icy aura he gave off. But it never did. His eyes still held pure revulsion when he looked at me. **2** Tiny shards of light glittered from the crystal chandelier. But even with the lights on, the living room felt unnervingly cold. And the man sitting beside me offered no warmth at all. I placed my tablet on my lap, flipping through pages to show him. “Look, for our wedding, don’t you think this dress would be perfect?” “The skirt is designed like a mermaid’s tail.” “It’s so beautiful, like shimmering light just gliding over it.” “And I really love this one too, the veil has stars on it, just like the ones you showed me at the—” A mocking laugh cut me off. He raised his head, his dark eyes fixed on me. “Did we ever *have* a past?” I desperately wanted to tell him we did, that we had so many wonderful memories together. But the man in front of me always saw me as a monster, the kind of villain beyond redemption. He grabbed my chin, pulling my face close, and his lips brushed against the corner of mine. His voice, usually so cold, had a seductive lilt, a dark, alluring whisper that made me shiver. “Good girl, now give me the medication.” **3** Julian listened to me, but only because… I had something he desperately craved. If he’d ever bothered to look through the agency’s internal reports from years ago, he would have starkly seen his name listed under drug enforcement commendations and injured in the line of duty. Julian developed an addiction during his undercover work. After his undercover assignment ended, he was diagnosed with a paranoid psychotic disorder. Essentially, delusions. He classified almost everyone around him as an enemy, and that included me. Even me, the person he once said he loved most, the one he swore to protect with his life. The gentle man I knew was long gone. He’d been dragged into his own personal hell, and his gaze when he looked at me was like looking into a thousand-year-old ice cave. The bedroom was dim. I yanked on his collar, pushing him back onto the bed. He was beneath me, yet his eyes were strangely calm. Even tainted by addiction, he looked as pure as a distant, untouchable god. A slight curl of his lips was still enough to take my breath away. I leaned down to kiss him, but with a surprising surge of strength, he flipped me over. He fumbled in my chest pocket for a moment and pulled out a syringe. Then, with practiced ease, he plunged it into his right arm. … To him, that syringe was a hit of pure drug. But it wasn’t. It was a specially formulated sedative, a psychiatric medication designed just for him. Addiction recovery isn’t something that happens overnight; it requires slowly tapering the dosage. Suddenly, I understood why he hated me so much. Because, in his eyes, I wasn’t his closest lover. I was the one who had gotten him hooked, then dangled just enough to manipulate him, day after day… Just a villain. **4** I had a dream. It was years ago, when Julian was still undercover. One Christmas Eve, I went to meet him. We navigated through the crowds, seeing each other only through the folds of newspapers we pretended to read. He had his hands shoved into his pockets, leaning against a railing like he didn’t have a bone in his body. Julian was handsome, and even a slight smirk made him look dangerously charming, drawing glances from every girl nearby. Right in front of me, he whistled at two of them. I kicked his shin. “Ow!” he yelped, then lowered his voice to call out to me. “Babe, I have to play the part, right?” He was already starting to pick up the rough edges of the underworld, but his eyes were still clear. Christmas carols jingled in the background. He tilted his head back, a playful tone in his voice. “Three years from now, then another three years, then another three…” It was a line from ‘Infernal Affairs,’ our favorite crime thriller. He turned his head, our eyes finally meeting in the reflection on the glass. “When am I finally going to marry you?” … I lowered my newspaper, brushing past him. “Finish your mission, and I’ll be waiting for you to marry me.” … The mission was over, but I never got to marry him. I woke up early the next morning, and the spot beside me was empty. No sign of him. I knew he hated me, that he didn’t want to share a bed with me. But when I went downstairs and couldn’t find him anywhere, panic set in. I searched every single room in the house. Nothing. I called a friend, my hand shaking so hard I could barely hold the phone. But he wasn’t anywhere. I clutched my head and sank to the floor. Lately, it was always like this. If I thought too hard about anything, my head would throb. My vision blurred from the pounding pain, but the desperate worry of not finding him was the real torture. Frantically, I typed out messages, even thinking of asking my old colleagues at the agency to help me track him down. My frantic heart pounded faster and faster, until a pair of white sneakers appeared in front of me. “What are you doing?” His voice was steady, still so cold and indifferent. Julian wasn’t Julian anymore, and yet, he still was. But the detached man standing before me could never truly merge with the playful boy from my memories. I stood up and wrapped my arms around him. I don’t know why, but I always loved holding him. It was like I could somehow imprint my warmth onto him, even though he never once hugged me back. “I thought you left, Julian.” He took a step back, subtly pushing me away. “I just went to water the flowers.” “…” I smiled faintly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make you…”

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My mom said she was on a mission. If she couldn’t make my dad fall in love with her again, the system would wipe her out. Completely erased from existence. I secretly told Dad, but he just said, “Then let her die.” Mom heard it too. She didn’t cry. She just held me gently. Later, Mom really died. But my cold, heartless dad, he went crazy. Mom slept for a really, really long time. It was way past time to take me to preschool, but she still wasn’t awake. I touched her body. It was cold, and stiff. Not warm and soft like usual. “Mommy, I’m hungry.” I shook her hard, but she still didn’t open her eyes. She wasn’t like this before. Before, if I just whined a little, she’d wake up instantly, pull me into her arms, and soothe me gently. But now, she was sleeping so deeply. I pulled the blanket over her to cover her properly, then climbed out of bed to call Dad. Dad hadn’t been home for days. Our neighbor, Ms. Davis, said his first love, Celeste, had divorced and come back last month, and that he didn’t want Mom and me anymore. Ms. Davis also said Mom looked a lot like Celeste, and Dad must have married Mom because he mistook her for Celeste. I didn’t know what a “first love” was, so I went to ask Mom. Mom was quiet for a long time before she said: “It’s about what you never truly had, what’s forever in the past.” I didn’t get it. I started to hate the moon. Because it took my dad away.

Mom had set a password on her phone so I couldn’t watch videos. I couldn’t call Dad. I held the phone up to Mom’s face, but it didn’t unlock automatically like it usually did. I said to the phone, “Voice Assistant, I won’t secretly watch cartoons anymore. Please unlock, I need to call Dad.” But the voice assistant didn’t respond. I went to knock on Ms. Davis’s door, but no one was home either. I had no choice but to climb back into bed and lie next to Mom, watching her. Mom was beautiful. Even sleeping, she was beautiful, more beautiful than any fairy on TV. Dad used to often watch Mom when she was asleep, and then he’d carry Mom from my side into their room. He’d playfully nip at Mom like a puppy. Mom was most afraid of dogs, but she never pushed Dad away. The next morning, Mom would always wake up late, rushing to make breakfast for Dad and me. Adults always say kids don’t remember things, but I remember everything. I remember that no matter how rushed Mom was back then, her eyes were always full of laughter. But Dad didn’t smile. He just sat there looking at his phone, then went to work after breakfast, dropping me off at preschool on the way. The teachers at preschool all loved it when Dad brought me. I heard them say my dad was the most handsome of all the dads, tall and good-looking and rich, like a movie star. They also said my dad was cold and aloof, and if only he were a little gentler, he’d be perfect. I thought they were wrong. Leo’s dad was clearly the best-looking. Leo’s dad always carried him on his shoulders when he brought him to preschool. How cool was that? My dad would just lift me down from the car and tell me to go into preschool by myself.

I took out the photo from Mom’s hand. We’d taken it at the art gallery a few days ago. Dad originally had plans and didn’t want to go with us, but Mom held his hand. “Just one more photo, please. Lily can look at it when she grows up. Otherwise… otherwise, it’d be so sad.” I saw tears in Mom’s eyes, but she held them back. Dad finally agreed. In the photo, Mom was holding me in a princess dress, leaning gently on Dad’s shoulder. Dad didn’t push Mom away; he quietly let her lean on him. Out of the three of us, I was the only one smiling the happiest. Last night before bed, Mom held me and looked at this photo together. She kissed my cheek and said, “I wish Mom were more useful.” “Lily, you have to grow up brave, and never be afraid.” I happily rolled around in her arms, “Okay, I’ll grow up brave!” She smiled too, but tears were on her face. She’d been crying a lot lately, even more than me. Then she sang me to sleep. In a daze, I heard her pleading with someone, “It’s not time yet, why are you here… Let me make a call and arrange things for my daughter… She’s only three, please…” I didn’t know who she was talking to. There were only two of us at home. But I was so tired, my eyelids felt too heavy to lift. When I woke up, Mom was lying next to me, her blanket barely covering her, which was why her body was so cold. I used my tiny hand to hold Mom’s, hoping she’d get warmer. No luck.

After a while, Mom’s phone rang. I went to answer, but the ringtone stopped. The phone was dead. I plugged the phone in to charge, but no one called back. I was hungry. I moved a small stool and opened the fridge, but I could only reach a bag of bread. I wanted to get the milk from deeper inside the fridge, but the stool fell, and I tumbled down hard. “Mommy, it hurts!” I cried as I went to find Mom. Mom still didn’t wake up. She was always so worried about me falling and getting hurt. I cried until I was tired, then fell asleep next to Mom. In my dream, I heard Dad’s voice. No, it wasn’t a dream. Dad really was back. I opened my eyes and heard the sound of the door code being entered. The door opened, but Dad didn’t walk in. Only his voice came through: “Lily’s preschool called and said she didn’t show up. I came back to check. Don’t worry, it’s normal after surgery. Go ask the doctor, I’ll be right there to find you.” He was on the phone, and his voice was so gentle. He had never spoken to Mom and me like that. He was always so indifferent to us, sometimes even cold. “Daddy.” I crawled off the bed from beside Mom and ran out. Dad frowned when he saw me. “Why aren’t you dressed? Where’s Mom?” I stopped, afraid to go closer, and whispered from the bedroom doorway, “Mommy’s sleeping on the bed.” He didn’t even look at Mom. He just said coldly to her, “Anya, I’ll give you three more days to think about it. The house and car here are all yours. Sign the divorce papers soon; it’ll be better for both of us.” Something fell in the bedroom. I thought Mom had woken up and ran to check. It was just the phone, which had fallen off the charger onto the floor. I went out to call Dad again, but he had already taken the elevator and left. I stood on my tiptoes, trying to press the elevator button to go down and find him, to tell him that Mom wouldn’t wake up. But Mom had said that children should absolutely, absolutely never ride the elevator alone. Once, when I was playing around, I took the elevator down to the underground parking lot. Mom looked for me for a long time and cried, she was so worried. I went back to Mom’s side and lay down. I didn’t want Mom to cry. When she cried, she was so sad, and she’d secretly hide so I wouldn’t see. I loved it when she smiled. The bread was all gone; I could only drink water. I was still hungry after drinking water, and Mom still hadn’t woken up. I thought Mom was sick. When I was sick, I also slept a lot, but Mom would feed me medicine and I’d get better.

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My sister’s school was holding a charity sale. She came home clutching a love letter, holding it up like it was a priceless treasure she’d found. “Look, Summer!” she chirped, her eyes wide with excitement. “The name on this letter is just like yours!” I stared at the eight-year-old love letter and fell into a daze. The sender’s name at the bottom was Liam Scott. Wasn’t that my ice-cold deskmate from high school? And now, my ice-cold boss? I was about to ask Lexie for details when a call came through to our home phone. A kid’s frantic sobs erupted from the other end. “My Uncle Alex is going to kill me! I’ll give you a hundred dollars, just please give that love letter back!” Our entire team got chewed out because of an intern’s mistake. As team lead, I bore the brunt of the scolding. When I finally trudged out of the boss’s office, feeling completely deflated, my intern, Chloe, looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Ms. Summer, I’m so sorry. I dragged you down with me.” I saw the dark circles under her eyes. The workload had been intense lately, and our entire team had been working overtime. She hadn’t gotten any rest either. I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s fine. I’m used to getting yelled at. It barely stings anymore…” “Is that so?” A low, deep voice cut through the air. Chloe flinched, startled. My body tensed. I looked up to see Liam Scott pushing open his office door, his brow slightly furrowed as he watched me. Ugh… a stone-cold, unreadable face. Just looking at him made my blood boil. I forced a smile. “…No, it’s not.” Liam stared at me for a few seconds, then closed his office door. Later, when I stepped out to get some water, I overheard a few interns whispering: “The boss is so harsh on Director Summer.” “Director Summer must have a strong heart. If it were me, I couldn’t handle it.” “I heard Director Summer and the boss used to be high school classmates.” “Really? No way! The boss curses out his old classmate without holding back at all. He’s a monster!” I shrugged. Tell me about it. Liam Scott was, indeed, a monster. And he wasn’t just any high school classmate. We’d been deskmates for three whole years! Yet he still showed me zero mercy. I was about to leave when their conversation took a turn. “Oh, right, I heard the boss is engaged.” “I saw his fiancée drop him off at the company a while ago!” “What? The ice-cold Mr. Scott has a fiancée?” My steps faltered. My fingers, gripping my water cup, curled involuntarily. I looked towards the office at the end of the hallway. For some reason, my chest felt heavy and tight.

After a month of grueling work, the project finally made significant progress. The company gave us five days off. The interns were so excited they nearly cried. I politely declined their invitation for a celebratory dinner, packed my bags, and drove straight back to my hometown. I hadn’t been back in half a year. Luckily, my hometown was only about sixty miles from the city where I worked, a four-hour drive. It was late at night when I arrived home. My sudden return startled my mom, who happily went to make up my bed, while my dad hummed a tune as he headed to the kitchen to fix me a late-night snack. I put away my luggage and quietly pushed open the door to a small room. By the light from the living room, I saw a little girl buried under her covers, sleeping peacefully and adorably. Lexie was an unexpected blessing my parents had when I was in high school. Suddenly having such a young sister was a big adjustment at first. But as Lexie grew up, she became more and more adorable, inheriting my mom’s patience and my dad’s intelligence perfectly. And she was so clingy. She always thought of me first whenever she got something good. The next morning, I groggily opened my eyes at the sound of movement and saw Lexie perched by my bed. Her eyes were bright, staring at me without blinking. “Summer, you’re back!” “Yeah.” I closed my eyes again. “Be a good girl, Sis. I need to sleep a little longer.” “Okay! I’m going to school now. I’ll bring you a present when I get back!” I mumbled a reply. Lexie quietly tiptoed out, carefully closing the door behind her. This little kid, she’s so thoughtful. Looks like she has quite a bit of allowance, to be able to bring me a gift? I was a little excited. By the time I got up, it was almost 11 AM. Lexie was picked up from school by Dad. Mom and Dad asked me to watch her for a bit, then they went to the supermarket together. As soon as they left, Lexie eagerly pulled something out of her backpack and mysteriously scooted closer to me. “Summer, guess what gift I brought you?” How was I supposed to guess that? I was about to blurt out a random answer when she couldn’t hold back anymore, holding up an envelope in front of me. “Summer, look! Your name is written on it!” I froze for a moment, then took the letter. The paper was a bit yellowed, looking like it was from years ago. The front of the envelope read, “To Summer.” My name? What are the chances of finding someone with such an uncommon name? Lexie chattered on. “Our school held a charity sale today. We brought old stuff from home that we didn’t need anymore, and students could buy whatever they wanted. All the money we raise will be donated to a charity! “My deskmate brought a lot of stuff—old books, old stationery. I found this letter inside a book and bought it for five dollars.” Lexie looked at me, expecting praise. “Summer! Do you like it?”

My first thought was, it must be a coincidence. Growing up, I was never considered pretty in class. I always wore thick glasses and had an introverted, quiet personality. I never knew how to respond when others tried to talk to me. So, no boy had ever sent me a love letter. I held the letter, feeling a little flustered. But Lexie was already urging me. “Summer, open it quickly!” “That’s not right…” After all, it was someone else’s property. Especially something as private as a love letter. “But I worked so hard to find it, and it cost me a whole week’s allowance!” Kids are impatient. She snatched the letter from my hand and ripped it open in two swift motions. Then she shoved it back into my hand. “Summer, read it to me.” “My classmate said he got it from his Uncle Alex’s treasure chest, and it’s full of good stuff, so this must be good too.” I was about to refuse, but my gaze caught the signature at the end of the letter. The handwriting was neat and elegant—Liam Scott. It was like a lightning bolt striking my mind. I stood frozen for several seconds before my gaze stiffly moved upward to the contents of the letter: [Summer, this is our third year as deskmates…] I slapped my hand over the letter, my face turning crimson, feeling like it was about to explode. My sister was still urging, “Summer, read it! I want to hear it too!”

I sent my sister away, clutching the envelope, and rushed into my room. I opened the window and stood there, letting the wind blow over me for a long time, but my heart still wouldn’t settle. I looked at the letter again. I was absolutely certain it was written by Liam Scott. After all, my handwriting in high school looked like chicken scratch. My English teacher couldn’t stand it and made me use Liam’s homework as a model for my handwriting for an entire semester. I could recognize his handwriting even if it were burned to ashes. But, why? Why would Liam Scott have liked me in high school? My thoughts drifted, and I remembered the first time I met Liam at the beginning of freshman year. Back then, I came alone from a small, rural town to a top-ranked city high school. I was carrying an oversized, worn-out canvas bag that seemed to contain everything I owned. I couldn’t carry it anymore by the time I reached the school gate, so I just started dragging it. But I overestimated the quality of that canvas bag. With immense friction against the ground, the bag ripped. I walked a long way before realizing the weight felt off. I turned around to see my belongings scattered all along the path. Books, stationery, toiletries, a lunchbox… Students around me were watching, laughter constantly echoing. “Oh my god, a country bumpkin came to the city.” “That bag is something else, seriously.” My face turned beet red. I knelt down and started retracing my steps, picking things up. I hadn’t picked up much when I bumped head-on into a boy walking toward me. The boy had a backpack, a handsome face, and was quite tall. He was holding a stack of miscellaneous items and calmly said, “I picked up what was ahead.” He looked over my shoulder at the ripped bag on the ground. “Do you have any other bags?” I awkwardly shook my head, barely daring to look at him. He thought for a moment, took a few books out of his backpack, and handed the backpack to me. “You can use this for now.” Confused, I took the boy’s black backpack and looked up blankly. “How do I give it back to you?” The boy pointed to the book I had just picked up. “Aren’t you in Freshman Class 3 too?” I froze, instinctively looking at his book. His class and name were on the cover. Freshman Class 3, Liam Scott. … To be honest, I was the one who liked him first. Unfortunately, that secret crush ended for various reasons. After graduating from college, I joined a small, obscure company for an internship, only to unexpectedly run into him again.

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My fiancé and my own brother hated me for ten years. They firmly believed I’d bullied the sweet, innocent girl they adored. And on my engagement party, they exposed my so-called crimes to the world. “She’s nothing but a bully, a disgrace to her school!” In the live-streamed video, the innocent girl smiled through tears: “I don’t blame her anymore.” “But hey, bygones are bygones. I’m over it now.” She became an overnight sensation. I, however, was condemned by all, doused with acid by extreme fans, and in despair, I dragged her to hell with me. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school. The innocent girl was pouring water over her head, smiling as she asked me: “Have you figured out how you’re going to apologize to me?” I snapped right there. Grabbing her hair, I dragged her into the restroom, forcing her head into the toilet bowl: “Let me show you what real bullying looks like.” “Your mouth’s so dirty. Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling.”

My last memory of my previous life. It was the agonizing, near-death pain of sulfuric acid splashing into my eyes. Through the blurring vision and immense agony, I found Lily Adams, who was shielded behind my brother. Then I grabbed a cake knife, charged at her, and plunged it into her chest. “Let’s go to hell together!” … When I reopened my eyes. The remarkably clear sight before me made me freeze for two seconds. Until I saw a much younger Lily Adams not far away. She was wearing a faded school uniform, turning on a faucet and pouring water over her head. As she poured, she smiled and asked me, “Who do you think they’ll believe, me or you?” It clicked instantly. So, it was this day. The beginning of when I was labeled her bully in my previous life. Seeing me standing frozen, Lily’s smile deepened: “Have you thought about how you’re going to apologize to me, Miss Fancy Pants?—Ah!” All the old and new hatred surged through me. I charged forward, grabbed her hair, and dragged her into the restroom. Amidst her sudden, shrill scream, I shoved her entire face into the toilet bowl. “Just pouring some cold water on your head, and you think you can frame me? Here, let me personally teach you what real bullying is.” Lily thrashed wildly, her arms pumping like pistons, but she couldn’t break free from my grip. She could only keep her face buried in the murky water, her mouth making muffled sounds: “Scarlett Hayes, let me go… *gurgle*… *retch*—” I laughed maniacally, head thrown back: “Your mouth’s so dirty! Remember to wash it clean before you go tattling later!” Whether this was a trip back in time or a post-death hallucination. It didn’t matter. I had utterly lost it.

In my previous life, I died on the most glorious day of my career. That day, I’d just won my third Best Actress award. I was wearing a couture gown, standing beside my childhood sweetheart fiancé, Liam Davies, at our grand engagement party, which was live-streamed across the internet. Then he announced to everyone: “I would never get engaged to a disgrace who bullied her classmates in high school.” Before my disbelieving eyes. Lily Adams walked out from the audience. With tears in her eyes, she looked up and smiled: “Scarlett Hayes, do you remember me? It’s Lily Adams, the girl you bullied for ten years.” “You probably never imagined that one day I’d stand on equal footing with you.” “But it’s okay, I don’t blame you anymore.” “But hey, bygones are bygones. I’m over it now.” Live-streamed across the internet, she became an overnight sensation. Before I could even react, a swarm of reporters, arranged by my brother and Liam, rushed in and surrounded me. “Miss Hayes, we hear you still have a habit of bullying new people on set?” “Someone recently photographed you at the hospital for a gynecological visit. Was it due to an unsavory private life and a dirty disease?” An extreme fan burst from the crowd and splashed sulfuric acid onto my face: “Bitch, die!” The liquid splashed, and an overwhelming, searing pain clung to my face. My vision never cleared up again. Falling from heaven to hell happened in an instant.

Snapping back to reality, I released my grip. Watching Lily Adams collapse to the ground, her breath faint. That innocent, pure little face was now smeared with filth. I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Cry, throw a fit, go tell the whole world I bullied you with that face—go on!” My voice abruptly rose at the end. Recalling the pain of my features dissolving from the acid in my past life, I stomped on her face twice more. Only then did I turn and leave. Downstairs from the school building, my desk mate, Chloe Miller, was waiting for me: “Gym class started ages ago, what were you doing upstairs?” I said casually, “Oh, just bullied a new transfer student.” She turned her head, shocked: “What?!” I replied, “A famous philosopher once said, ‘When the whole world thinks you’re a bully, you might as well really be one.’” “A philosopher… said that…?” “It doesn’t matter.” Chloe and I walked to the edge of the sports field, where we ran straight into Liam Davies. He wasn’t in my class. But everyone at school knew he was Scarlett Hayes’ childhood sweetheart boyfriend. Liam’s gaze slid across my face, then subtly, almost imperceptibly, landed behind me: “Scarlett, why are you so late? Oh, and I heard there’s a new transfer student in your class?” In my previous life, every time Lily Adams slandered me. He would always tell me to apologize to Lily, to just smooth things over. Seemingly on my side. But in reality, with just a few words, he sealed my fate as a bully. Thinking of this, I raised my hand without warning and slapped him. “?!” Chloe, standing beside me, was shocked again. Liam’s expression didn’t change, only his eyes briefly hardened, then he acted as if nothing had happened. He intimately leaned down, rubbing his cheek against mine: “What’s wrong, Scarlett? Are you in a bad mood?”

In my previous life, it was much later that I found out. When Liam Davies was a child, his mother abandoned him at an amusement park, and he was briefly taken in by an orphanage. There, he met a bright and cheerful little girl. She slept in the same bed as him and gave him a piece of candy. She was the only light in his life. This light was Lily Adams. And on her very first day transferring to our school, Liam recognized her. He always deeply believed Lily’s claims that I bullied her and hated me to the bone. Yet, constrained by his status as an illegitimate son, he had to swallow his pride and curry favor with me. Because he needed to secure his position in his family through an alliance with me. Thinking of this, I said, “Let’s break up.” His pupils suddenly constricted: “…Why? Give me a reason, Scarlett.” I pulled out a tissue and wiped my cheek where he had rubbed it, one slow wipe after another: “I don’t want to date the son of a homewrecker. It feels dirty. Is that reason enough?” After I left, Chloe Miller cautiously asked if I was possessed. I wasn’t surprised she asked that. Because in high school, I had loved Liam Davies so openly and intensely.

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Scarlett had strung me along for seven years. Then she said she was bored and went after a younger, more handsome college guy. This time, I didn’t make a scene. I tossed the diamond ring I’d bought for her and cut up the wedding dress I’d picked out. Late that night, I boarded a plane and left NYC. Her friends were all placing bets on how long it would take for me to crawl back. Scarlett just smiled, arrogant as ever: “Alex will be back begging like a dog in less than a day.” But day after day passed, and I remained out of touch. She couldn’t sit still anymore and called my phone: “Alex, had enough fun? Come back…” A soft, shy female voice cut her off: “Ms. Reed, you should apologize early, or someone else will snatch him away.” Scarlett gripped her phone, her voice trembling: “Who is this? Let Alex take the call!” Serena leaned in and kissed me: “He can’t. He needs his rest. If it’s important, you’ll have to wait for me to kiss him awake.” It was my seventh year with Scarlett. I’d bought a diamond ring and her favorite wedding dress, mustering up the courage to propose. But bad luck, I arrived a few minutes late to the party that day. Just in time to overhear her chatting with her friends. “Alex? Oh, that guy’s so predictable. I got bored ages ago.” Scarlett sipped her red wine, a haughty smile on her face: “Seven years. Wouldn’t you be tired of it?” Her friends all burst into laughter: “You’ve got a point. Seven years, even the hottest guy would lose his flavor.” “But Alex really is handsome.” “And his body’s great too. At Scarlett’s birthday last time, he wore a full black suit, looked even better than those movie stars!” “Seriously, Scarlett, you used to be so obsessed with him. Can you really let him go?” Scarlett’s voice was flat: “Have I ever lied?” Her friend immediately changed tack: “Then… if I went after Alex, you wouldn’t mind, right?” “Go for it,” Scarlett took another sip of wine, speaking slowly. “As long as you’re not grossed out.” “Seriously? Aren’t you ashamed? Taking her sloppy seconds, someone Scarlett’s already bored with?” Another wave of laughter. I didn’t go into the private room that night. I made up an excuse and went home early. Scarlett hung up the phone without asking a single question. I guess that night, my burning heart finally died out.

Within a couple of days, the gossip started flying around our social circle. Scarlett was seeing a sophomore college guy. Maybe he was sheltered, but faced with money and vanity, the guy fell for it in no time. At a friend’s gathering, Scarlett showed up with him. The moment they walked in, everyone went quiet. A few of my closer friends looked at me with concern. I smiled. “Why’s everyone so quiet? What are you looking at me for?” Scarlett wrapped an arm around the guy and sat down, then finally looked at me directly: “Alex, today’s a good chance, so I’ll just lay it all out.” “Okay, go ahead.” “These years of breaking up and getting back together have been meaningless. The feelings faded long ago.” I clenched my hand tightly, the ring hidden in my palm digging deep into my skin. But I couldn’t feel the pain. “You’re not as young as him, and not as cheerful. I truly like him.” Scarlett held the guy’s hand, her eyes full of affection. I nodded lightly: “Okay, I get it.” “We can still be friends in the future. If you need anything, you can always find me.” “No thanks.” I chuckled softly and stood up: “Since we’ve broken up, let’s make it a clean break. Save people from getting the wrong idea.” Scarlett raised an eyebrow, surprised, then after a moment, said: “Fair enough.” “Then you guys can hang out. I’ll head back.” “Want me to walk you out?” “No need, I’ll just take a taxi.” As I walked out of the room and closed the door, I heard someone ask, “How long do you think Alex will last this time?” “Two days?” “He seems genuinely angry this time. I’ll bet five days.” Scarlett glanced at the door, which wasn’t fully closed, and smiled dismissively: “Alex will definitely come back like a dog in less than three days.” “Hasn’t it always been like this for years?” The people inside chimed in: “True, how could Alex leave you? Everyone knows he loves you like crazy…” I gave a self-deprecating laugh and hurried towards the elevator.

Back at my apartment, I pulled out the wedding dress she had always loved. And simply cut it up. After all, keeping it here would only be an eyesore for Scarlett. When I finally left, I thought for a moment and left her a note. This apartment and everything in it was hers to dispose of as she pleased, no need to ask me. I booked a red-eye flight, leaving NYC behind and returning to that familiar city.

My buddy, Jake, got the word and threw a gathering that night. It was all old classmates and friends. A few rounds in, the door opened again. A couple of guys immediately brightened: “Serena? You’re a rare sight!” “Yeah, Ms. Serena, what brings you here tonight?” Serena’s cheeks were slightly flushed. “I was just doing some business next door, heard about the old classmates gathering, so I came to join the fun.” As she spoke, her gaze lingered on me for a moment before slowly moving away. Jake nudged me quietly: “Alex, Serena’s here for you, isn’t she?” I forced myself to look at her. She was a little taller than Scarlett, and had a better figure. I squinted for a bit, then looked away and shook my head: “No way. We haven’t kept in touch for years.” But Jake ignored me and called out to Serena directly: “Hey, campus queen, could you give Alex a ride later?” “We’ve all been drinking, and we don’t want him to get ripped off by a ride-share.” Serena’s gaze crossed over everyone and landed on my face. After about two seconds, I saw her nod: “Okay.” “Thanks, campus queen.” Jake sat down with a grin and whispered to me: “Alex, why should Scarlett be able to play the field, but you can’t have a second chance at love?” “Besides, a beauty like Serena, it’d be a crime not to go for it.” “How do you know she’d be interested in me?” Jake gave a mischievous grin: “The way she looked at you just now, it was like she wanted to devour you!” “Trust my experience, man.” 4 The gathering ended, and Serena drove me back to my hotel. When we arrived downstairs, I unbuckled my seatbelt, And thanked her: “Thanks for the ride tonight.”

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To bring an end to the brutal war, I volunteered to become a peace bride, marrying Kael, the formidable chieftain of the Wolfen Clans, my childhood companion. Kael, a whirlwind of raw power, pinned me to the open plains. For three days and three nights, he took me until I faded into unconsciousness. I truly believed Kael loved me. But later, it was *he* who led a hundred thousand beast warriors, their iron hooves trampling through the heart of Aethelgard. He forced my head back, making me watch in horror: my King, torn apart by the wolves until his head was gone. My brother, the Crown Prince, cut down, his body trampled into unrecognizable pulp beneath their horses. Those savages even stripped my Queen Mother bare, shaming her until blood streamed from her legs… Kael smiled at me, yet his eyes held no trace of emotion: “Lyra, did you truly believe your beauty, magnificent enough to topple kingdoms, could ever capture my heart?” “Your royal family slaughtered countless of my kin. You offer only yourself in return, yet you dare to dream of erasing this ocean of blood and vengeance!” In the end, Kael united the lands, and he had his beloved Queen. He locked me away in the forgotten chambers, stripped of my title and my very name. Every time I tried to end my life, he’d exhume a corpse from the royal crypts and grind their bones to dust before me. “You will not die without my command!” I stopped struggling. Anyway, there were only three days left until the potent poison, which I had consumed years ago to save him, finally claimed my life. *** Lena’s birthday feast. Kael granted me a rare reprieve from my solitary prison. My eyes burned as I watched the woman on the high platform, adorned with an ornate, feathered circlet – a sacred relic of my Queen Mother. “Impudent wretch! Bow before His Majesty and the Queen!” Someone brutally kicked me. My knees slammed against the stone floor, my forehead touching the ground as I numbly performed a deep bow. Kael didn’t let me rise, his face expressionless: “Lyra, you’re late by a good fifteen minutes. Are you deliberately trying to disrespect Lena?” “This slave deserves death.” I knocked my head against the floor again. I didn’t bother explaining that my legs were weakened, and walking all the way from my secluded chambers would take at least a couple of hours. Kael’s face twisted into a sneer. “You’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you?” The last time I disobeyed, he’d locked me in a beast cage and bled me half-dry to quench the thirst of his monstrous hounds. When I was on the brink of death, he’d then order his men to scour the lands for the rarest herbs and potent elixirs, barely clinging to my life. “My dear sister, please rise. You were once a princess, precious as a gem. Even with your kingdom fallen, why do you still act like a lowly servant?” Lena herself helped me up, her words dripping with false kindness, twisting the knife deep into my most painful wound. She spotted the wolf fang bracelet coiled around my wrist, and a flicker of covetousness crossed her eyes. She said she adored it and wanted it as a birthday gift. I glanced at Kael. He showed no reaction. This was a gift from Kael himself, an ancient heirloom of his clan. Each fang was said to be a potent remedy, carrying a unique, enduring scent that never faded. 2. Long-term wear was believed to soothe pain and extend one’s lifespan. I’d always been frail since childhood, and when he gave it to me, he’d wished for my lifelong peace and health. “If Her Majesty desires it, how could this slave refuse?” I removed it from my wrist and placed it into Lena’s outstretched hand. As I withdrew my gaze, I faintly heard the sound of a spilled goblet from the high platform. Lena toyed with the wolf fang bracelet, a satisfied smile playing on her lips. “Oh, right, I recall you were once famed as ‘Aethelgard’s Enchantress,’ weren’t you? Why don’t you grace us with a performance?” I numbly endured the malicious, spectating gazes from across the banquet hall. There were commanders from the Wolfen Clans. And also the traitors who, from within, had opened Aethelgard’s city gates. But I had no right to refuse. A bowl of steaming broth, just served, splashed over me. It scalded my skin instantly, peeling it back. “What are you standing there for, dumbstruck? A fallen royal, still daring to act like a spoiled princess? You’re lucky to be breathing, don’t push your luck!” As if I felt no pain, I rose on my tiptoes. I transformed myself into a dancer, a plaything for their amusement. The Wolfen Clans had an open, wild culture, and those barbarians still weren’t satisfied. They cheered, urging me to strip. Kael’s gaze, cold and dark, lingered on me from afar. It was his silent permission. I bit my lip, then began to unfasten my belt. My clothes, clinging to my scalded skin, ripped as I tore them off, leaving raw, bleeding patches. Piece by piece, I undressed in this very Throne Room, a place filled with countless beautiful memories of my past. Tears finally fell. Only when the banquet ended was I permitted to stop. Kael walked towards me, reeking of wine. His icy fingertips brushed against the damp streaks on my face, wiping away a single tear. But his voice was utterly devoid of feeling: “Lyra, are you deliberately trying to play for pity in front of me?” “This slave… wouldn’t dare.” But as the words left my lips, my old ailment flared up again. I coughed up blood right in front of him, feeling as though my entire insides were being torn out. Kael recoiled in disgust, his sneer deepening. “I’ve seen this sickly, pathetic state of yours for ten years. Haven’t you had enough of pretending?” I once believed he despised the women of the Central Kingdoms, hated my delicate nature and my weakness. Yet, for Lena, he was endlessly devoted. Lena would just lightly frown, and the royal healers would already be waiting at her door, ready to drop everything. The parasites gnawed at me. My body trembled, cold sweat pouring from my forehead. Before I lost consciousness, I thought I saw a flicker of panic in Kael’s eyes. He gritted his teeth, his voice a low growl: “Lyra, I won’t let you die easily. You will live, and you will atone!” But I couldn’t atone anymore… In two more days, I would surely die. The next morning, I woke up to find my burns had been treated. 3. I vaguely realized this wasn’t my solitary prison, but the King’s royal chambers. I remembered when my King was still alive, he often held my brother and me in this very room, teaching us to read and write. My Queen Mother would bring me warm, fragrant honey cakes she’d baked herself. But I couldn’t even recall their taste anymore. “You’re awake.” Kael approached, his face expressionless. He gripped my jaw, pouring a bowl of incredibly bitter blood-tonic medicine down my throat. His strength was immense. I choked, my eyes stinging red. “Lyra, don’t look at me with such pitiful eyes.” Kael sneered. “Even if your hands are clean, unstained by my kin’s blood, as long as you were born into that royal family, you are not innocent.” The day our kingdom fell, he slaughtered every last royal bloodline of the former regime. Even the fully formed child in my womb, his own flesh and blood, he did not spare. Only I was left alive. I didn’t understand… was this love, or hatred? It must be hatred. That’s why he later made me soak night after night in freezing, potent herbal baths, designed to steal away my ability to bear children. He wanted me to be completely barren. He didn’t want me to bear his children. He despised me, my lineage tainted. I wiped the medicine from the corner of my mouth. Before I could speak, a joyous shout came from outside. “Your Majesty! The royal healers have confirmed Her Majesty Lena is with child!” Kael’s expression froze, then his voice filled with excitement: “Are you serious? Lena is pregnant?” My gaze was distant, watching the joy of a new father spread across his face. Perhaps the parasites began gnawing again, for my hand instinctively clutched my chest. It hurt so much. I had intended to die alone in my desolate prison when the poison finally took hold. But Kael, of all times, sent me to attend to Lena now. He knew exactly how to inflict the cruelest torment upon me. A swift death would have been merciful. Instead, he wanted me to witness, with my own eyes, other women bearing his children. While our own child, whom he’d personally ripped from my womb, lay buried on the back hill, a lone, unmarked grave, not even a simple headstone. Lena smiled at me, a soft, saccharine smile. “You, born of nobility, my dear sister, His Majesty asks you to serve me, but I couldn’t possibly make you do menial tasks. Just clean up the fallen petals in the front courtyard.” I picked up the broom, looking at the courtyard blanketed in peach blossoms. Other palace maids openly rolled their eyes at me, their voices filled with disdain. “A princess from the fallen regime, she’s lucky to be left to rot in her cold palace. Only our Queen is kind enough to call her ‘sister.’” “Noble born? Ha! She’s clearly lower than the cheapest concubine, utterly despised by His Majesty. If I were her, I wouldn’t have the audacity to cling to life so shamelessly.” Red rashes slowly began to appear on my skin. I gasped for breath, and suddenly felt a warm liquid trickling from my nose. I reached up, touching it, and froze. “Ah!” 4. Lena saw the blood covering my face and was instantly overcome with feigned shock. When Kael rushed in, he slapped me without a word, his force so great it sent me sprawling to the ground, scattering a flurry of peach petals. I began to cough.

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Our dream home, months in the making, was finally ready. Owen, completely ignoring my glare, insisted on letting his drunken childhood best friend stay the night. His excuse? She had nowhere else to go. He couldn’t just leave her on the street. The moment his best friend, Harper, sprawled across *our* wedding bed, I told him the wedding was off. “Clara, can you stop overreacting for once?” “Are you really going to cancel the wedding?” I looked at him. “Yes, I am. Cancel it.” “There’s no point in us lying to ourselves anymore. This is over.” I stood at the bedroom doorway, my fingers digging into the doorframe, knuckles white. Owen’s childhood best friend was lying on the wedding bed I had carefully chosen. She was wearing a dark blue silk pajama set, the one I’d bought for our honeymoon. Our initials were even embroidered on the cuffs. And now, it hung loosely on another woman’s body. Owen stood beside the bed, his hair a mess, his pajama collar askew, like he’d just been… tangled with. “What’s with that face? Harper drank too much last night, she had nowhere to go. I couldn’t just leave her on the street, could I?” I didn’t speak, my gaze shifting from his face to the bed. Harper looked like she’d just woken up, rubbing her forehead as she sat up. Her voice dripped with fake apology: “Clara, I’m so sorry, I totally blacked out last night… Did I do anything out of line?” Her mouth mumbled apologies, but her eyes flicked past me to Owen, a smirk playing on her lips, a clear hint of triumph. I stared at her, my voice chillingly cold. “Out of line? Like lying on my wedding bed, wearing my bridal pajamas?” Owen’s face darkened, and he cut me off. “She just borrowed them! Do you have to be so dramatic?” His voice rose, laced with sharp anger. “We’ve been planning this wedding for half a year, and you’re going to cancel it over something so small?” I didn’t rush to argue. Instead, I pulled out my phone from my pocket, swiped a few times on the screen, and handed it to him. “These are your SnapChat messages from the past three months.” My voice was ice-cold, a quiet menace beneath the surface. “You went out seventeen times in total. Every single time, the excuse was ‘helping Harper with her relationship problems.’” Owen’s face twitched, but he quickly jutted out his chin. “So what? She got dumped. As her best friend, am I not allowed to comfort her?” “And you had to stay out all night, every single time?” I stared him down. “Last Friday, I left work early. I saw her in your car, and your hand was on her *thigh*.” A flicker of panic crossed Owen’s eyes. “That was an accident! I just bumped her!” “An accident?” A humorless laugh escaped me. “Then why did you immediately drive away, looking so nervous in your rearview mirror?” Owen’s breath hitched, and his fingers unconsciously tightened on the hem of his pajamas. Harper conveniently cut in, her voice dripping with feigned distress. “Clara, you’ve really misunderstood. Owen and I have been friends for over twenty years, how could we ever…” “Twenty years?” I cut her off, my gaze sharp. “But the way you look at him, it’s never been like a friend.” Harper chose that moment to throw off the covers and get out of bed. The hem of the dark blue silk pajamas brushed the sheets, leaving a fresh wrinkle. She stood barefoot on the floor, her back deliberately straightened, a hidden boast in her posture. “Clara, please don’t be mad. I’ll leave right away. I won’t bother you two anymore.” “Stop.” I stepped aside, blocking the doorway, my face icy. “Take off the pajamas.” Owen shrieked. “Clara! Are you crazy? What do you expect her to wear if she takes them off?!” “That’s her problem.” I stared directly into Harper’s eyes. “My things, once tainted, are fit for the trash. They’re definitely not for someone else’s body.” Harper’s face instantly flushed a mottled red. Her clenched fingers went white, and she gasped for air, but she didn’t dare meet my gaze. Owen suddenly lunged, grabbing my shoulders, his nails digging into my skin. “What do you want? Are you really going to burn everything down over a pair of pajamas?”

“Ha…” I let out a cold laugh, shrugged him off, and walked out of the room. The early autumn night wind carried a chill. I stood under a streetlamp, slowly, almost deliberately, pulling my wind-blown collar tighter. My fingertips traced the cold fabric, each movement slow and deliberate, as if I was fighting with myself. Harper reeked of Owen’s cologne. Our wedding bed was a mess because of them, and he was still defending her. “Clara!” The sound of his dress shoes rapidly approached. I turned back to see Owen standing a few steps away. He stood there in the cold wind, his shoulders trembling slightly, his chest heaving, as if he’d just run a long distance. “Let’s talk,” his voice softened. I let out a long breath, saying nothing. He walked closer, his hand suddenly gripping my arm tightly, as if afraid I’d shake him off. “There’s really nothing going on between Harper and me,” he said, his voice low, almost pleading. “She was just drunk. I couldn’t just leave her…” “Drunk?” I scoffed. “So drunk she can lie on our wedding bed? So drunk she can make you stay out all night? So drunk she can—” I yanked my arm away, pressing my thumb hard into the skin on his inner wrist—there was a faint bruise there, like someone had gripped him tightly. His eyes flickered, and he instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but I held firm. “Was this an ‘accident’ too?” His face shifted, and then he pulled away, his voice suddenly rough. “Are you ever going to let this go?!” He took a deep breath, as if trying to keep calm. “You’re going to cancel our wedding just because of a misunderstanding? We’ve been together for three years. Do you really trust me so little? Besides, she’s already gone home!” “Misunderstanding?” I stared into his eyes. “Alright, prove it to me.” “Block Harper now. Delete all her contacts. Don’t see her again.” His expression froze. “No way,” he blurted out almost instantly. “She’s my most important friend. We’ve known each other for twenty years. You want me to just cut her off?” “Most important friend?” I forced a smile. “More important than your fiancée?” He opened his mouth, but before he could speak, his phone suddenly rang. He glanced down at the screen, and his face instantly changed—it was Harper. “Hello? Harper? What’s wrong?” He answered the phone, his worry barely hidden. Harper’s faint, dramatically pained groans trickled through the phone. “Owen… I fell… My head’s spinning…” “Don’t move! I’m coming right now!” He hung up, turning to leave. I grabbed him. “Owen.” My voice was as cold as ice. “If you go to her today, we are completely over.” He stopped, turning back to look at me, his eyes filled with struggle. Three seconds. Five seconds. “I’m sorry…” he finally murmured, then added, “I’ll be right back.” He ran toward the road without a backward glance, hailing a taxi. The moment the car door closed, I pulled out my phone and dialed the wedding planning company. “Hello, Mr. Thompson? Yes, it’s Clara Ruan.” I stared at the disappearing taxi, my voice terrifyingly calm. “Cancel all wedding arrangements. I’ll still pay the full fee.” The night wind swirled fallen leaves around my feet. I stood under the streetlamp, watching my shadow stretch long, long, across the pavement.

Owen never came back after he left. It wasn’t until 2 AM that I saw Harper’s Ins story. In the photo, she was half-undressed, curled up in a man’s arms. A shadow obscured half the man’s face, but his build was all too familiar. That Ins story was like a dull blade, slowly slicing through my nerves. I gripped my phone tightly, my fingers trembling. Just then, my company called, saying there was an urgent project requiring me to travel abroad for a week. I agreed with almost no hesitation. Getting away from here, even temporarily, was better than staring at an empty room, lost in my own thoughts. Before boarding, my phone vibrated. An audio file from an unknown number. I tapped it. The next second, Harper’s voice spilled from the receiver. Moans, mixed with a man’s low gasps. I slammed my screen off, but those sounds had already taken root in my mind. I switched off my phone for the flight. When the plane landed, I turned it back on. Dozens of missed calls popped up on the screen, all from Owen. I scoffed, ignoring them. But a moment later, his call came through again. “Why did you leave without saying anything?” His voice was accusatory, with a hint of an emotion I couldn’t quite place. “I thought you already made that clear?” My voice was calm. “Clear about what?” He paused for a second. “Just because I went to Harper?” “Didn’t you two have fun? Do you even have time to think about me?” I sneered. “Clara, you’ve misunderstood. She was already drunk, and I was worried something would happen to her.” “I’m her best friend, I couldn’t just leave her!” Owen was still trying to explain on the phone. “Good enough to roll around in bed together? Owen, we’re done.” I hung up the phone, then forwarded that audio file to him. For the next few minutes, my phone vibrated nonstop. **[It’s not what you think!]** **[Let me explain!]** **[That audio is fake! Someone’s trying to frame me!]** I didn’t reply to a single one. Soon enough, his tone changed. **[Fine. If you don’t trust me, then there’s nothing more to say.]** **[Hope you don’t regret this!]** I blocked him directly. A week later, I dragged my suitcase back home. The moment I inserted the key into the lock, I heard a rustling sound from inside, followed by low laughter. I pushed the door open. In the living room, clothes were scattered everywhere. On the sofa, Harper was wrapped around Owen, both of them disheveled, her lipstick smeared on his collarbone. The air solidified. Owen jerked upright, his face pale. “You… you’re back?” I stood in the doorway and slowly smiled. “Looks like I’m back at just the right time.” Harper was wearing my bathrobe, my slippers on her feet, and holding my whiskey glass. The amber liquid swirled in the light. She grinned at me, a deliberate display of triumph.

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For seven years, I lived under a different name overseas. Now, to celebrate my sister’s graduation, I secretly came back home. I went straight to the Art Authentication Gallery where she was interning, only to find the three prospective fiancés I’d arranged for her years ago, sneering and mocking her. “You ungrateful brat, you’re nothing but trouble! Stealing Serena’s clients was bad enough, but how dare you accuse her of stealing artifacts?” “You’re such a lowlife, no one would touch you even if you were naked on the streets!” “Serena comes from a respectable family, unlike you. A commoner like you shouldn’t dream of marrying into our league!” Behind the three men, Serena Vance stood, tears streaming down her face, looking utterly wronged. “I treated you like a sister, and yet you slander me like this…” The crowd around them pointed and whispered, their judgment heavy in the air. After returning home, I’d planned to surprise my sister at her internship and scout the local antique market for future investments. But no sooner had I stepped into the firm’s showroom than I walked straight into this drama. My sister, Chloe Adams, was being openly ridiculed by the onlookers. Some even thrust their phones in her face, recording short videos. Her face was pale, and beneath her feet lay an ancient painting, covered in muddy footprints. The three men leading the charge were the prospective fiancés I’d chosen for her before I left the country: Brandon Hayes, Kyle Jensen, and Liam O’Connell. All of them were either rich or well-connected. Beside them, Serena Vance sobbed uncontrollably, pouring out her grievances. The three prospective fiancés launched into Chloe, one after another: “Chloe Adams, you better explain yourself!” “You secretly took a five-million-dollar appraisal fee, then swapped the original, and now you’re trying to deny it?” As he spoke, one of them pulled out a voice recorder. The next second, an edited recording played through the speakers. “The money’s in your account, the goods are yours.” It was a woman’s voice, and if you listened closely, it sounded exactly like Chloe’s. Then he pulled up a transfer screenshot, clearly showing “Five Million Dollars.” Instantly, the crowd erupted, whispering and loudly accusing my sister. “You pocketed the appraisal fee AND stole the painting? Talk about being greedy and shameless! How low can you get?” “Using such tactics in an appraisal firm is utterly despicable!” “Who knows? With all this evidence, how can she possibly deny it?!” Chloe clutched the hem of her shirt, biting her lip, her face a mask of humiliation. “I didn’t do it, this is slander…” Before she could finish, Serena burst into even louder sobs. “If I’m making this up, everyone is welcome to check! This authentic Tang Palace Lady painting is a genuine piece worth eight million dollars, and now it’s a fake! She was the only one who appraised it; isn’t it obvious she swapped it?!” The onlookers even raised their phones, live-streaming the scene. My eyes narrowed. I spotted a tiny, almost invisible mark on the edge of the painting. That was the Vance family’s signature forgery technique. Only an expert would notice it. It suddenly clicked. The girl standing there was Serena Vance, the daughter of our next-door neighbors. Years ago, my family owned a vast collection, which made our rivals jealous. They conspired against my parents, setting a trap that ultimately led to their deaths. To survive, I sold off all our family assets for a pittance and went into hiding overseas, living completely off the grid. Before leaving, I had to entrust my sister to the Vance family as their foster daughter, and arranged for the sons of three families we’d been close to for generations – the Hayes, Jensens, and O’Connells – to look after her. But judging by what I was seeing now, was this how they “looked after” my sister? I pulled out my phone and made a call. “Get the owner of this appraisal firm here, now!” “Tsk tsk tsk, you think just holding a magnifying glass and waving it around makes you an appraiser? You’re nothing but a charlatan!” Brandon Hayes sneered, grabbing the magnifying glass Chloe had used and tossing it into a trash can. Chloe gritted her teeth, tears welling in her eyes. Seeing this, Brandon seemed to think it wasn’t dramatic enough. He turned to the operating desk. “Since the painting can’t be appraised now, why don’t we look at something more interesting instead?” Before he finished speaking, he tapped a few keys on the computer, and a set of high-definition pictures popped up on the large screen. They were explicit photos of my sister in the shower! The scene immediately exploded into chaos, mixed with crude jokes and cheers. “Holy hell, this is way better than any old painting!” “If I could sleep with her for a night, that’d be incredible!” Brandon Hayes remained unruffled, speaking slowly. “Chloe Adams, since you like stealing things and playing risky games, you won’t mind if everyone else gets a thrill, right?” Someone whistled, others started taking pictures, and the situation quickly spiraled out of control. My fists clenched instinctively, my knuckles turning white. I remembered Brandon Hayes was the one Chloe liked most when they were kids. I turned and called my assistant, instructing him to immediately investigate what was going on. “Brandon Hayes, didn’t you say you’d marry me if we had a child? Are you trying to ruin me now?!” Chloe’s voice trembled as she asked. Brandon laughed wildly, a cruel, mocking glint in his eyes. “You actually believe what a guy says in bed? Who knows how many men you’ve slept with?” Chloe was trembling with rage. “You bastard! What exactly do you want?!” she screamed. “Simple. Transfer five million dollars back to the Vance family’s account, and publicly admit you swapped the painting and faked the appraisal. Do that, and I’ll take the photos down immediately. Otherwise, I’ll add another one every minute.”

“Wow, how exciting! Can’t wait!” “From what Chloe said, Brandon actually slept with her. Who does she think she is, trying to marry into the Hayes family?” “I heard Chloe is just a foster kid the Vances took in, but she actually dared to scheme against their real daughter?” “I heard she even tried to steal Serena’s boyfriends. Everyone knows those three guys are crazy about Serena.” But before the crowd could finish gossiping, my sister’s photos suddenly flooded the Antique Exchange SnapChat group. My phone buzzed relentlessly, flooded with vile, malicious gossip and rumors. “Brandon Hayes, have you lost your mind?!” Chloe’s eyes turned red. “Chloe Adams, if you want to stay in this industry, get on your knees and apologize to Serena right now, plus five million in compensation. Otherwise, I’ll post all these photos online! If you don’t care about the shame, keep refusing…” Chloe lowered her head, but then, after a long moment, she looked up, surprisingly calm. “Apologize? You’re dreaming. I have evidence that Serena was the one who swapped the painting. As for compensation, there’s no telling who will be paying whom.” “Ha, evidence? If you really had evidence, you would’ve shown it already. Why would your appraisal qualifications almost be revoked? Stop acting, Chloe Adams, stop deluding yourself.” The onlookers chimed in, enjoying the show. “Yeah, if you’ve got proof, spill it, don’t just run your mouth.” Chloe ignored them, only letting out a cold laugh. “Since we’re talking about compensation, Serena Vance, you’ve pulled off countless switcheroos like this before! If you had to pay for all of them, you’d be bankrupt a hundred times over!” The atmosphere went strangely silent for a few seconds. Brandon Hayes was the first to speak, his voice filled with sympathy and indignation. “Chloe Adams, you’re being far too aggressive! Serena is older than you, she’s your sister! How can you make such baseless accusations?!” But his words only fueled Chloe’s anger. She was trembling. “Brandon Hayes, I must have been blind to ever like a beast like you!” “Chloe, don’t misunderstand. I’m just being objective. If you can provide evidence, of course I’ll help you.” Chloe’s face went pale, and her voice trembled. “Brandon Hayes, considering our families have been close for generations, can’t you… not be so cruel?” “Of course…” He drawled playfully, then paused, changing his tone. “Besides the photos, I have videos too. Does everyone want to see them?” The crowd instantly erupted. “Yes! She’s got a great body!” At this moment, my assistant, Ryan, who had been investigating the authenticity of the photos, reported quietly: “Ms. Sterling, we checked the photos. No tampering, they’re original uploads.” “How did Chloe get these kinds of photos?” “Brandon Hayes is behind it. He didn’t just trick Miss Adams; I heard he’s brought dozens of young women to his bed. The guy’s a total playboy, he must have countless explicit photos.” Ryan’s face was grim as he cursed under his breath. I took a deep breath and asked, “Has the appraisal firm owner arrived?” “Still on the way.” “Add this: if he’s not here within ten minutes, I’ll smash everything in this place!” “Understood. I’ll relay that immediately.” The crowd continued to buzz, all eyes on Chloe Adams and Serena Vance, waiting for the next round of drama. “I can overlook the things you’ve stolen before, but this painting isn’t something your Vance family can touch. It was part of my family’s collection, and my sister will definitely come back to claim it.” The moment Chloe finished speaking, Brandon Hayes and the others burst into laughter. “You’re trying to make me die laughing! Your sister abandoned you and fled overseas years ago; by now, she’s probably dead in some ditch.” “Even if she’s alive, it’s been so long, and she hasn’t come looking for you. She’s probably too poor to survive, much less come back for you, hahaha.” Chloe’s eyes flashed with fierce light as she glared at them. “You don’t need to worry about whether my sister’s alive, but if you don’t hand over that painting, I’ll give the police evidence of all the things you’ve stolen before!” Serena Vance’s face instantly twisted into an ugly mask, but she still puffed out her neck and shrieked: “Chloe Adams, I haven’t done anything! You’re clearly slandering me now!” Just then, a portly, greasy middle-aged man pushed through the crowd and strode in. “What’s all this racket about? Disperse, now!”

“Mr. Davies, please, you’re the manager, tell us, isn’t it Chloe Adams who’s behind this artifact theft and swap?” Serena Vance called out to the man. Mr. Davies’ face immediately stiffened, and fine beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “Mr. Davies, just tell the truth…” Serena Vance whispered something to him, and he finally nodded in agreement, speaking up: “Indeed… Chloe Adams did swap the ancient painting. There are major loopholes in the appraisal firm’s management, and we will handle this with the utmost severity!” At that moment, the crowd erupted in an uproar, low murmurs spreading like wildfire. “Mr. Davies, you’re talking nonsense! I absolutely did not…” Chloe’s voice was firm and clear. Serena Vance’s lips curled into a sneer as she slowly approached. “Chloe Adams, if you’re still going to be stubborn, why don’t we search you? Everyone here knows you’re the prime suspect!” As soon as she spoke, the three men beside her snickered. Kyle Jensen tutted. “Since Chloe Adams is a suspect, why don’t we search her publicly? Let’s see if she’s hiding the ancient painting on her person?” The surrounding crowd clamored, “Yeah! She claims she has evidence but can’t produce it. If she’s so brave, let us search her!” Chloe, furious, retorted, “Serena Vance, if you’re not convinced, let’s sign a gambling agreement. Whoever is proven to have swapped the artifact will pay the other ten million. Do you dare?” After she spoke, Brandon Hayes sneered, “Oh? You dare to gamble? So you’re that rich? Well, use that ten million to get your photos back! Otherwise, I’ll publish them one by one online and let the whole world see your explicit pictures.” A female colleague added fuel to the fire, “Manager, we have eyewitnesses and physical evidence right here. You must stand up for Serena!” Mr. Davies’ face was ashen. After hesitating for half a minute, he said coldly, “Chloe Adams, the evidence is strongly against you now. If you admit it, you might get a lighter sentence.” Suddenly, all eyes fell on my sister. Some people were already eager to approach her. Chloe’s face was pale, and she retreated two steps. “You… don’t come any closer!” Serena Vance sharply interjected from the side: “Chloe Adams, I saw you sneaking around last night. If you’re innocent, are you willing to let an expert publicly search your clothes?” Kyle Jensen also spoke up for her, “How about this, you strip down and let us inspect you. If you’re innocent in the end, we’ll call it even. But if it’s confirmed you stole something, all your assets will belong to me.” Chloe scoffed, a look of disdain on her face. “Serena Vance, since we’re making a bet, let’s be clear upfront. All my assets as your stake is fine, but you should reciprocate fairly. Your total shares in the Vance Group are only 5%, which probably isn’t enough, is it?”

Brandon Hayes’ lips curved into a smile. “My three art galleries operate with top museums across multiple countries. Their market value alone leaves you in the dust.” Kyle Jensen and Liam O’Connell quickly chimed in. “My Jensen family’s malls are also on the line.” “And my O’Connell family’s villas as well!” Brandon Hayes proudly spoke again, “Don’t forget, Chloe Adams, I still have those photos of you. If I win today, this wager, at the very least, needs to double.” The crowd whispered amongst themselves, full of taunts and eager anticipation for the show. Serena Vance sneered, bending down close to Chloe Adams’ ear, whispering provocatively, “What, Chloe Adams, chicken out? If you admit you’re incapable now, it’s not too late. Be obedient, sign the voluntary transfer agreement, then kneel and kowtow three times to me, and today’s matter will be over. Maybe you can even keep some dignity.” My sister clenched her fists, her nails digging hard into her palms. A moment later, she pulled out a red file and let out a cold laugh. “One last chance. Do you still want to bet?” Brandon Hayes stretched his neck, staring intently at the file. The surrounding whispers suddenly erupted: “Isn’t that… a Judicial Appraisal Center’s evidence collection order?!” “Seriously? How does Chloe Adams have that kind of authority?” Someone questioned. “She’s probably just trying to scare people with a fake document, even resorting to this?” Serena Vance chuckled without humor. “Don’t you dare pretend you have any authority with some flimsy piece of paper. What can a crumpled piece of paper prove?” With that, she raised her hand and slapped my sister across the face. Chloe stumbled and fell to the ground. I quickly rushed forward to help her up. Chloe recognized me and was about to call me “sister,” but I stopped her with a glance. Serena Vance, however, laughed mockingly from behind me. “Oh! Look who it is! Isn’t this Chloe Adams’ useless sister who’s been fooling around somewhere unknown?” My eyes coldly swept over them. I sneered, “You’ve got a lot of nerve! Who gave you the courage to hit someone?” The three men stood protectively in front of Serena Vance. Liam O’Connell scoffed, “Where did this psycho come from? Here to cause trouble, are we? I’ll teach you a lesson!” Before he could make a move, Mr. Jenkins, the appraisal firm owner, finally arrived, albeit belatedly. “Ms. Sterling, my apologies, my apologies. I just finished a meeting, I’m late. What brings you here?” When Mr. Jenkins addressed me by my name, a wave of shock rippled through the onlookers. I didn’t give him a pleasant look. I asked coolly, “Mr. Jenkins, your firm certainly has a knack for chaos these days. I’m truly impressed.” “I’m truly sorry to have made you witness this!” Mr. Jenkins said, squeezing through the crowd and loudly signaling, “That’s enough gawking, everyone, disperse! We have an important guest today, don’t embarrass the company!” He spotted Mr. Davies not far away and frowned. “Why are you still standing there watching the show? Shouldn’t you be maintaining order?” Mr. Davies was momentarily speechless. “I was just handling a conflict between colleagues. This Chloe Adams…” “Shut up!” Mr. Jenkins’ face darkened. “Keep meddling, and I’ll fire you on the spot, believe me?!” Chloe, however, seized the opportunity and loudly declared: “Mr. Jenkins, Serena Vance swapped a client’s original with a fake! You must uphold justice today!” Mr. Jenkins’ brows furrowed, a difficult expression on his face. “Chloe, I’ll resolve this for you, but not now. We have important guests. Why don’t you go back for now?” “Mr. Jenkins, is this how you handle things?” Mr. Jenkins quickly explained, “They’re making a mess here, I’ll clear them out immediately.” I said coldly: “Mr. Jenkins, given the chaos here today, I can’t help but notice someone’s crying injustice. And it just so happens everyone is here. Why don’t you clear her name right now?” Brandon Hayes quickly interjected: “Chloe Adams, don’t think you can scare people with a fake investigation order. If you don’t have the guts, just admit defeat early! Apologize to Serena and clear her name!” Mr. Jenkins finally understood the full story and said sternly, “Chloe Adams, quickly return the real painting to the client, don’t delay things and bring bad publicity to our company.” My face instantly darkened. “Mr. Jenkins, since so many people are here, why don’t we continue the wager? A clear win or loss would serve to set an example and clean up this mess.” The onlookers, seeing the tension escalate, grew excited and chanted: “Boss, judge it fairly! We want to see what happens next!” Mr. Jenkins, seeing everyone’s interest growing, and at my insistence, could only give a helpless, wry smile. “Since Ms. Sterling has spoken, this matter will proceed. I will serve as the impartial arbiter.” I stepped forward, helped my sister up, and embraced her. “Who’s that new woman? Mr. Jenkins is practically bowing to her.” “Never seen her before. Probably some company bigwig. But… I saw her and Chloe Adams exchanging glances earlier, like they know each other?” Mr. Jenkins adjusted his glasses, a hint of impatience in his voice.

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