After my mother gave birth to my baby brother, she developed temporary amnesia. She remembered everyone in her life, except for me. She even hallucinated that I was a child-snatcher trying to steal her baby. Because of this, she slapped my face and kicked my stomach almost every single day. But sometimes, she would snap out of it. She would cup my bruised face with her trembling hands, weeping and begging for my forgiveness. I truly believed that one day, my sweet mom would get better and come back to me. Until one rainy night, I overheard a hushed conversation between my parents in their master bedroom. “How much longer are you going to keep up this act, Eleanor?” my dad’s voice whispered, sounding exhausted. “Chloe is covered in bruises. There isn’t a single patch of clear skin left on her back.” “Hmph. What else was I supposed to do? She’s just a daughter,” my mom replied, her voice cold, sharp, and completely sane. “If we don’t break her spirit now and train her to be Mason’s obedient servant, she’ll run wild when she grows up. We won’t be able to control her.” I clutched the DNA test results tightly against my chest. In that single, devastating moment, I realized all of my mother’s tearful apologies were nothing but a lie. But Mom… there is something you don’t know. Mason isn’t even your biological son. ***

The bruises on my back were calculated. The most hidden one was right below my left shoulder blade, left by a heavy plastic clothes hanger. That afternoon, my mother’s hand had flew high into the air, and then her palm crashed down on me. A burning pain radiated from my cheek to my ear. I bit my lip hard, tasting the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. But she didn’t stop. Wearing her soft house slippers, she kicked me hard in the stomach. I curled up on the cold hardwood floor, gasping for air like a fish dying on dry land. Her voice was shrill and screeching, a horrific contrast to the gentle mother I once knew. “Thief! You’re trying to steal my baby!” I looked up through my tears and saw the raw, unadulterated hatred in her eyes. But in the very next second, her gaze went blank. Her brows furrowed deeply, as if she were desperately trying to pull herself out of a thick fog. She reached out with trembling fingers, gently touching my swollen cheek as tears cascaded down her face. “Oh my god… I’m so sorry, Chloe. Mom is so, so sorry.” She pulled me into her arms. It was an embrace that was both warm and suffocating. As her fingers brushed against the fresh welts on my back, I flinched from the pain. Instead of letting go, she held me even tighter, as if she wanted to merge me into her own body—or perhaps, erase me from this world entirely. Back then, I always told myself: *Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Mom will get completely better.* I held onto that hope until the day I found out she had never been sick at all. Once upon a time, my mother was the gentlest soul in the world. When I was six years old, I came down with a horrific fever in the dead of winter. My dad was away on a business trip. My mom stayed up all night, never closing her eyes once, gently wiping my burning body with warm, damp towels over and over again. At three in the morning, half-conscious from the fever, I heard her calling a doctor friend from the living room. Her voice was trembling with tears. “Dr. Carter, please help. My daughter’s fever has reached 104. What do I do? What should I do?” She checked my temperature every fifteen minutes, writing it down carefully in a little notebook. Her handwriting was messy from panic, but I could still recognize it. Eventually, when the fever wouldn’t break, she bundled me up in a heavy blanket like a little burrito and carried me down the stairs. We lived on the sixth floor of an old walk-up apartment building with no elevator. She walked down those steps, one by one, her heavy footsteps echoing in the quiet stairwell. The sidewalk outside was covered in patches of black ice. She slipped and fell hard, but she used her elbows to shield me from hitting the frozen ground. I heard her groan in pain, but she immediately turned her head to check on me. “Chloe, sweetie, are you okay? Did Mommy scare you?” Dozing off, I mumbled back, trying to comfort her. “I’m okay, Mom.” We didn’t have much money back then, and I hated the thought of going to the hospital just for a fever. When we finally got to the ER, the doctor scolded her for not bringing me in sooner. She just looked at him with red, bloodshot eyes and said, “I thought I could break the fever at home. I didn’t want to drag her out in the freezing cold middle of the night if I didn’t have to.” When the nurse pricked my hand for the IV, I started crying and screaming. My mom held me tight against her chest, softly singing my favorite lullaby. As the medicine dripped into my veins, I fell asleep. In my hazy dreams, I could feel a warm hand gently stroking my hair. When I opened my eyes, I saw her slumped over the edge of my hospital bed, fast asleep from sheer exhaustion. Yet, even in her sleep, her hand kept patting my back gently, over and over again. The morning sun filtered through the gaps in the hospital blinds, casting a warm, golden glow over her tired face. During those peaceful years, she was the one who taught me how to read and write. We shared a single desk lamp. Her warm, soft hand would cover my small one, guiding my pencil across the paper to write the letters of the word “LOVE” in my spelling notebook. Whenever I made a mistake, she never yelled. She would just gently erase it and say, “Let’s try again, sweetie.” She always told me, “Chloe, you are Mommy’s greatest treasure.” And whenever she said those words, her eyes would crinkle into beautiful, crescent moons. For my seventh birthday, she baked me a strawberry cake from scratch. My dad had to work late at the office and couldn’t make it home. Seeing the disappointment on my face, she magically whipped out two movie tickets from behind her back. “Well, then it’s a girls’ night out! A date with Mom!” We watched the latest animated movie. She bought me a giant tub of popcorn but didn’t eat a single piece herself, choosing instead to just watch me smile. When the movie ended, it was drizzling outside. She took off her denim jacket, draped it over my head to keep me dry, and ran into the rain to hail a cab. Inside the taxi, water was dripping from her hair, but her first instinct was to use her dry sleeve to wipe the raindrops off my face. I kept these memories locked deep within my heart. They were real. I was sure of it. And that was exactly why her betrayal, when it came, was so incredibly cruel. ***

My baby brother, Mason, arrived in the spring. During the late stages of her pregnancy, my mom would often take my hand and place it gently on her swollen belly. “Chloe, feel that? Your little brother is kicking you.” Her smile was full of pure, maternal bliss. I, too, waited for his arrival with excitement. I even saved up my pocket money to buy a tiny plush bear as a welcoming gift for him. The day Mason was born, I waited in the hospital corridor for twelve long hours. Finally, my dad walked out of the delivery room and smiled at me. “It’s a boy, Chloe. He’s healthy. Your mom is doing great.” I stood on my tiptoes, trying to peek through the door. A friendly nurse laughed and led me inside. My mom was lying on the bed, pale but smiling. Right next to her was a tiny bundle, revealing a soft, pink little face. “Come here, Chloe. Look at your brother,” she whispered softly. I walked over on my tiptoes, terrified of disturbing this fragile new life. At that moment, I loved him with all my heart. The first few weeks were completely normal. During her postpartum recovery, my mom would smile and let me hold Mason, even if it was just for a few minutes at a time. She taught me how to cradle his head and rock him gently. My arms would go stiff from nervousness, but my heart was overflowing with love. But gradually, a subtle shift began to happen in our home. My mom’s eyes started drifting. Whenever she spoke to me, she would suddenly stop mid-sentence, as if she had forgotten what she was saying. At first, we all assumed it was just postpartum exhaustion. I thought so, too. The first time I realized something was seriously wrong was when Mason was two months old. I came home from school, and before I could even put down my backpack, I ran over to his crib. Mason was awake, staring up at the ceiling with his round, dark eyes. I reached out my hand, wanting to gently touch his tiny fingers. Suddenly, my mom rushed out of the kitchen like a maniac, screaming at the top of her lungs as she shoved me away. “Get away from him! Don’t touch my baby!” I lost my balance and crashed onto the floor, my elbow slamming hard against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A sharp, blinding pain shot up my arm. I stared at her in utter shock. Her expression was entirely foreign—guarded, hostile, like a wild lioness protecting her cub. She stood rigidly between me and the crib, her eyes locked onto me. A few seconds later, she seemed to snap out of it. Seeing me crying on the floor, panic flashed across her face. “Chloe? Oh my god, what did I do? I… I just…” She rushed over to pull me up, checking my elbow, which was already bruising. Her voice trembled. “Does it hurt? Sweetie, Mom didn’t mean to. I don’t know what came over me.” I brushed the dust off my skirt, forcing a small smile. “It’s okay, Mom. You’re just really tired.” My elbow throbbed painfully, but the confusion blooming in my chest hurt so much more. At that time, I genuinely believed she was just exhausted. I even blamed myself. *I shouldn’t have tried to touch the baby without washing my hands first. Newborns have weak immune systems. Mom was just trying to protect him.* I had no idea that this was only the beginning of a never-ending nightmare. Things quickly deteriorated. My mom started “forgetting” who I was more and more frequently. Sometimes, while she was chopping vegetables in the kitchen, she would suddenly spin around and glare at me with cold, hostile eyes. “Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” At first, I thought she was playing a cruel joke. I laughed nervously. “Mom, stop it. It’s me, Chloe.” But the sheer emptiness and suspicion in her eyes were so terrifyingly real that the laugh died in my throat. “Chloe?” She repeated the name, her brow furrowed as if searching her mind. “Do I have a daughter? How old is she?” “I’m twelve, Mom,” I said, my heart starting to race with panic. *Was she going to hit me again?* My dad would usually walk out of his home office at that point, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “Eleanor, honey, this is Chloe. Our daughter. Remember?” His voice was always incredibly calm, and it quickly pacified her. My mom would look at my dad, then at me, and then nod slowly. “Chloe… right. Yes, I remember now.” But as time went on, the most terrifying development was that she began to permanently cast me as her imaginary enemy. Once, when Aunt Clara came over to visit, my mom pointed a trembling finger at me. “She’s trying to steal my baby! I know she is!” Clara laughed awkwardly, trying to smooth things over. “Eleanor, what are you talking about? That’s Chloe. Your own daughter.” My mom stared at me for what felt like an eternity before letting out a slow, hesitant nod. But she pulled Mason tighter against her chest, turning her body away from me in a fiercely protective stance. The moment Clara left, my mom burst into tears. She threw her arms around me, weeping hysterically. “Chloe, did Mommy lose her mind again? What did I say? Did I hurt you, baby?” Her hot tears dripped onto my shoulder, scalding my skin. “No, Mom. It’s okay. You’re just tired.” ***

I patted her back gently. I believed her. I had to believe her. A mother’s love couldn’t be faked. She was just sick. My dad took her to see three different specialists, and they all gave a similar diagnosis: postpartum stress bringing on brief episodes of amnesia, possibly accompanied by mild paranoia. Every doctor offered the same comforting words: “She will recover. It just takes time and patience.” But my dad’s “patience” quickly turned into silent permission. The first time my mother actually laid a hand on me, my dad just stood in the doorway. His lips twitched slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a single word. That afternoon, Mason wouldn’t stop crying. No matter how much my mom rocked him, he kept screaming. I finished my homework and walked out of my room, offering quietly, “Mom, do you want me to try holding him?” She whipped her head around, her eyes turning predatory. “What are you trying to do to him?” She clutched Mason tightly and took a step back, staring at me as if I were a monster. I tried to explain. “I just want to help.” “Help? Or do you want to make him cry more so you can show everyone what a terrible mother I am?!” Her voice rose to a screeching register. “You’ve always been jealous of him! I know your secret!” “I’m not, Mom—” “Shut up!” She lunged forward, her hand flying across my face. *SLAP!* It was a heavy, deafening blow. The sharp sound echoed through the living room, freezing both of us in place. My cheek burned with a blinding, throbbing pain, but my mind was completely numb with shock. My mom’s hand remained suspended in the air, trembling violently. My dad slowly lowered his newspaper, glanced at us, and murmured, “Eleanor, calm down.” “She wants to hurt Mason! Who is she?!” My mom’s voice cracked, her eyes losing focus once again. “Chloe, go back to your room,” my dad sighed, his voice dripping with exhaustion. I cupped my throbbing cheek and ran back to my bedroom, locking the door behind me. I slid down against the wood, burying my face in my knees. My cheek didn’t hurt nearly as much as the hollow ache opening up in my chest. Outside my door, I could hear my mother sobbing hysterically while my dad murmured soft, comforting words to her. A few minutes later, there was a soft knock on my door. “Chloe, sweetie, open the door.” It was my mom. Her voice had returned to its usual, gentle warmth. I unlocked the door. Her eyes were red and swollen. When she reached out to touch my face, I flinched, instinctively pulling away. Her hand froze in mid-air, and another wave of tears spilled over. “I’m so sorry, baby. Mommy lost control again. Does it hurt?” Seeing her cry broke my heart. My anger melted away. “It doesn’t hurt, Mom.” She pulled me into her arms, and this time, I didn’t pull away. Her embrace was exactly as I remembered—warm, smelling faintly of lavender laundry detergent. “Mommy will get better. The doctors said so. I promise,” she whispered in my ear, though I couldn’t tell if she was trying to convince me or herself. But from that day on, the abuse only escalated. It went from shoving to slapping, from hard pinches on my arms to kicks to my shins and stomach. And every single incident followed the exact same, twisted pattern: First, she would have an “episode” and attack me. Next, she would “snap out of it,” crying and begging for my forgiveness. Finally, she would wrap me in a warm hug, promising it would never happen again. I trapped myself in this cycle of hope and abuse. Because when she was “sane,” she was the perfect, loving mother I adored. Occasionally, my dad would pat my head, his eyes filled with a complicated look. “Your mother is sick, Chloe. You need to be understanding.” I would just nod, hiding my fresh bruises under long-sleeved shirts, and quietly help her with the chores. When summer arrived, wearing long sleeves in ninety-degree weather started looking suspicious. Once, during gym class while we were changing, a classmate noticed the dark purple marks on my arm. She gasped, “Chloe, what happened to your arm?” Terrified, I quickly pulled my t-shirt over my head and forced a laugh. “Oh, I’m just clumsy. I fell down the stairs.” But some marks were impossible to hide. The swelling from her slaps would eventually go down, but they left faint, reddish marks on my skin. One afternoon, my school counselor, Mrs. Gable, called me into her office. She gently asked if everything was alright at home. I told her my mom was sick and sometimes had trouble regulating her emotions. Mrs. Gable looked at me with deep concern. “Do you need me to contact Child Protective Services, Chloe?” I shook my head frantically. “No! Please don’t!” I couldn’t let strangers get involved. It would destroy my mom, and it would embarrass my dad. We were a family, and families solve their own problems. The worst beating happened right before my finals in eighth grade. I was studying late in my room when I got thirsty and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I passed my parents’ bedroom, Mason suddenly started crying. My mom burst out of the room, and seeing me standing in the hallway with a glass of water, she instantly flew into a rage. ***

“What did you put in his bottle?!” She snatched the glass from my hand, sniffed it, and slammed it onto the floor. Shards of glass shattered everywhere, slicing my ankles. “I was just getting water for myself!” “Liar! You want to poison my son! I know you hate him!” She grabbed me by my hair, dragging me out into the living room. A white-hot, ripping pain shot through my scalp, and I screamed. My dad rushed out of the bedroom. “Eleanor! Let go of her!” But she didn’t hear him. She raised her foot and kicked me violently in the stomach. I curled into a ball on the floor, the agonizing pain knocking the breath right out of my lungs. Finally, my dad stepped in, grabbing her arms to pull her off me. “She’s a demon! She wants to murder my baby!” she shrieked, tears streaming down her face. With great effort, my dad dragged her back into the master bedroom and locked the door. I lay on the cold floor, my stomach cramping violently, the metallic taste of blood pooling in my mouth. The harsh ceiling light overhead was blinding. I closed my eyes, letting the tears slide silently down my face. I don’t know how much time passed before the bedroom door finally opened. My mom walked out, her steps shaky and uneven. She fell to her knees beside me, her trembling hands hovering over my bruised face. “Chloe… my sweet Chloe… Oh my god, what did I do to you?” Seeing the blood on my lip, she broke down, sobbing hysterically as she pulled me into her chest. “I’m a monster! I’m so sorry! Hit me back, please, just hit me back!” I shook my head, too weak to speak. That night, she insisted on applying ointment to my wounds. When she pulled up my shirt and saw the massive, dark purple bruises covering my stomach, she gasped, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold the tube. I found myself comforting her instead. “It’s okay, Mom. It’ll heal. You’re just sick.” She looked up at me, her eyes filled with a bizarre mixture of guilt, pain, and something else—something cold and calculating that I didn’t understand at the time. “Yes,” she whispered softly. “Mommy will get better.” But the illusion shattered completely on a stormy night a few weeks later. I woke up in the middle of the night from a sharp, throbbing pain in my stomach. My mother had kicked me hard earlier that afternoon. I got out of bed to find some Advil in the kitchen. As I passed my parents’ bedroom, I heard hushed voices coming from inside. The door was cracked open, letting out a sliver of yellow light. Instinctively, I stopped in my tracks. “How much longer are you going to keep doing this, Eleanor?” my dad’s voice asked, sounding incredibly weary. “Chloe is covered in bruises. Her school counselor called me again yesterday. I barely managed to lie my way out of it.” My heart squeezed. I leaned against the drywall, holding my breath. “Hmph. If we don’t break her spirit now and train her to be Mason’s obedient servant, she’ll run wild when she grows up. We won’t be able to control her,” my mom’s voice replied. It was completely steady, cool, and logical. She sounded like she was discussing a household budget, not the systematic abuse of her own daughter. “But she’s only fourteen, Eleanor. Look at the marks on her back,” my dad muttered, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “Skin heals! Breaking her spirit is what matters!” my mom snapped, her tone turning sharp. “Are you turning soft now, David? Think about why we did this in the first place! Think about Mason’s future! He is going to need someone who will dedicate her life to taking care of him. If Chloe suffers a little bit now, she’ll know her place. Or do you want her to grow up like one of those spoiled, selfish only-children who would never lift a finger to help her brother?” “That’s not what I meant. We raised Chloe from a baby…” “Then what do you mean? The doctors said postpartum amnesia rarely lasts more than a year. Do you know how exhausting it is for me to pretend to be crazy every single day? If it weren’t to completely crush her defiance, do you think I’d be putting on this ridiculous show?” *A show.* The word felt like a poisoned dagger plunging straight into my chest. “The school is getting suspicious,” my dad sighed. “The counselor is going to call CPS eventually.” “Let them. Once she’s completely broken, she’ll realize that fighting back is useless. Even if I ‘recover’ from my illness, it won’t matter. In fact, she’ll probably be grateful that I’m nice to her again. Abuse breeds loyalty.” My entire world collapsed right then and there. I clutched the wall, my knees shaking so violently I could barely stand. I dragged myself back to my room on silent feet, locked the door, and buried my face in my pillow, weeping silently until my throat was raw. That night, for the first time in my life, I wanted to die. If living meant being tortured and manipulated by the people who were supposed to love me most, what was the point? But I didn’t end it. The next morning, my mother had another “episode.” During breakfast, she suddenly swiped her hand across the table, knocking my glass of milk onto the floor. It shattered into a million pieces. “You’re trying to poison my baby!” she shrieked, pointing at the spilled white liquid. I sat there, staring at her coldly. I didn’t try to explain. I didn’t cry. I just watched her perform. My dad stepped in right on cue. “Chloe, clean this up quickly. Your mother didn’t mean it.” “Oh, I absolutely meant it!” My mom stood up, towering over me. “I’m telling you, stay away from my son!” She raised her hand. This time, I didn’t flinch or look away. As her hand slapped my cheek, I stared directly into her eyes. And there, deep within her pupils, I caught a fleeting glimpse of satisfaction. It was true. A mother’s love could be entirely fabricated. “What are you looking at?!” She slapped me again, harder this time. “Eleanor, that’s enough,” my dad said, pulling her back. “Chloe needs to get to school.” My mom scoffed and turned her back on me. I silently grabbed my backpack and walked out of the house. I didn’t say a word to my classmates or my counselor. On my way back from school, I stopped by a local grocery store. I used some spare change my dad had left on the counter to buy a bag of frozen peas to soothe my swollen cheek. When I got home, Mason was sitting on the living room rug. The front door was open, and he babbled happily when he saw me, reaching his chubby little hands toward the frozen bag. He was starting to say a few words now. His eyes were so innocent, so pure. I looked around the empty apartment, and my heart softened. Mason was innocent. He was just a baby. I handed him the colorful bag, but his tiny hands couldn’t grip it. It rolled under the heavy bookshelf. He pointed his little finger. “Sissy, look! Ball!” I gave him a soft, gentle smile. As I bent down to retrieve the bag of peas, I noticed my dad’s desk drawer was slightly ajar. Peeking out from inside was a photo frame that didn’t belong to our family. I pulled it out. It was a family photo of my dad, my grandparents, and another woman—a beautiful, young woman I had never seen before. A chilling thought flashed through my mind. I looked at Mason, then back at the photo. Mason didn’t look like me. He didn’t look like my mother, either. He looked exactly like my dad. Furthermore, everyone in my family had thick, curly brown hair. Mason’s hair was pin-straight and jet-black. I remembered when Mason was born and had to stay in the incubator for a few days. My mother had been asleep, and I had wandered over to the nurse’s station to ask a question. I had caught a glimpse of Mason’s medical chart. His blood type was O. I was young, but I knew basic biology. My parents were both AB. It was genetically impossible for them to have an O-type baby. I held up the photo of the strange woman. Mason’s eyes lit up instantly. He pointed his tiny finger at her face and babbled, “Mama!” A loud alarm bell went off in my head. Terrified by the dark truth looming before me, I grabbed my things and ran out of the house.

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I was born with a curse: a ten-fold pain-empathy link with my twin sister, Roxy. Any injury she got, the pain would hit my body ten times worse. Growing up, Roxy became a notorious rebel in our neighborhood. Getting into street fights and skipping school was just a Tuesday for her. She didn’t care. She knew that she wouldn’t feel a thing. I was the one who would scream in agony, not her. Our parents completely ignored this. Instead, they blamed me for being “too weak,” saying my constant whining held Roxy back from reaching her full potential. To force me to give up my Ivy League early admission spot to her, Roxy took a utility knife and slowly sliced her own arm right in front of me. As I collapsed onto the floor, twitching and foaming at the mouth from the unbearable agony, my family just stood there, watching coldly. My dad even flicked his cigarette and said, “Stop faking it. Sign the waiver already.” Later, Roxy decided to stage an accident with a speeding luxury car to extort some quick cash. When the massive impact hit her, my heart instantly stopped. But the moment I drew my last breath, my sister—the girl who was incapable of feeling pain—suddenly let out a blood-curdling scream.

Roxy was the older twin. I was Hope, the younger one. Since the day we were born, God had played a sick joke on us. Any physical harm Roxy endured would register in my nervous system with ten times the intensity. And she felt absolutely nothing. She had congenital insensitivity to pain. Right now, I was curled up on the hardwood floor like a dying shrimp, my entire body convulsing violently. The pain was so intense that my throat could only produce a dry, rattling gasp. Through my blurry vision, I saw Roxy sitting on the sofa, casually spinning a shiny utility knife between her fingers. She had that bored, mocking smile on her face. Then, she pressed the blade against her pale forearm and dragged it down. *Screeech.* The sound of flesh tearing open. “Ahhh!” The scream didn’t come from her. It came from me. In that instant, it felt like a power drill was boring straight into my bone marrow. My very soul was being shredded. I foamed at the mouth, my limbs flailing uncontrollably as my fingernails clawed at the floor, leaving bloody streaks. “Hope, that’s enough. Get up,” my dad, Harold, said from his armchair. He looked annoyed as he tapped the ash off his cigarette. A speck of glowing, hot ash fell right onto the back of my hand. *Sizzle.* Another red burn mark. My eyes felt like they were going to pop out of their sockets from the shock. I stared at him, desperately trying to beg for help. *Dad, please. Save me.* But no words came out. Only tears and drool smeared across my face. My mom, Linda, was peeling an apple for Roxy. She didn’t even look at me. “Roxy, honey, why do you have to hurt yourself over this?” Linda sighed. Roxy pouted like a spoiled brat. “It’s Hope’s fault! She won’t sign over her Ivy League admission spot to me! Mom, I don’t want to take the SATs. It’s too hard.” “Since she’s the younger sister, isn’t it her job to help me out? She should carry my academic stress.” As she spoke, a flash of pure malice crossed Roxy’s eyes. She pressed the knife deeper. This time, the cut went straight to the bone. “Arghhh—!!!” My heart seized. It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing it until it popped. The pain went far beyond what a human body could tolerate. My spine arched rigidly, and then I crashed heavily back onto the floor. My vision went pitch black, and the voices in the room started sounding distant, like they were underwater. Linda walked over and kicked my head with the toe of her slipper. “Cut the drama, Hope. You’ve been pulling this stunt since we were kids. Aren’t you tired of it?” “Look at you, acting like a corpse. You don’t have a single drop of your sister’s courage.” “Roxy is bleeding so much and she hasn’t made a sound. You don’t even have a scratch on you, yet you’re squealing like a pig.” Right. Ever since we were kids, because I was always the one crying in pain, they saw me as a dramatic, attention-seeking loser. Meanwhile, Roxy, who couldn’t feel pain, got into gang fights and caused trouble, but they praised her for being “tough” and “a fighter.” They forgot that I was the one paying the price for her “toughness.” Harold blew out a cloud of smoke, his cold face hidden behind the gray haze. “Stop playing dead. Sign the paper.” “Once you sign it, we’ll take your sister to get stitches, and your ‘pain’ will stop.” I tried to raise my hand to tell them that I couldn’t breathe. My heart was beating in a wild, chaotic rhythm, like a machine breaking down. Then came the final, massive surge of neural shock. *Snap.* It felt like a wire snapped in my brain. My eyes stared blankly at the ceiling fan, my pupils dilating. My body remained twisted on the floor, completely still. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, Roxy walked over impatiently. She smeared some of the blood from her arm onto my cheek and shoved the pen into my stiff hand. “Hey, wake up. Sign it so I can go to the ER, and you can stop crying.” The pen slipped from my fingers and clattered onto the floor. My arm fell limp, like a puppet with its strings cut. I was completely gone. My soul floated up to the ceiling, watching this absurd scene unfold. I was dead. I died in the heat of a summer evening at eighteen, while my own family watched with cold indifference.

Seeing that I wouldn’t hold the pen, Roxy kicked me in the ribs out of frustration. “Mom! Look at Hope! She’s still throwing a tantrum!” Linda walked over and looked down at me. My wide-open, lifeless eyes were staring right back at her. She frowned. There was no panic on her face—only disgust. “This girl has such a nasty temper. She really thinks she can blackmail us by pretending to pass out?” “Ignore her. Starve her for a couple of meals, and she’ll crawl back.” Harold was even more direct. He grabbed me by my shirt and dragged me onto my bed. Then, he picked up the pen from the floor and forged my signature on the Ivy League waiver. “There. The spot is yours now,” Harold said, handing the paper to Roxy. “Was this tiny thing really worth cutting yourself so many times?” Looking at the signed document, Roxy jumped up and down in excitement. She didn’t care about the blood dripping down her arm. “Thank you, Dad! I knew you loved me best!” She grabbed a random band-aid from the counter and slapped it over the deep gash. The blood quickly soaked through the adhesive, but she didn’t care. It didn’t hurt anyway. “To celebrate our Roxy getting into the Ivy League, let’s order a feast!” Linda declared, immediately ordering the most expensive seafood delivery on her phone. Half an hour later. The food arrived. The dining table was piled high with King crab legs, lobsters, and oysters. The table was in the living room. Less than ten feet away from my dead body. I floated above them, watching them stuff their faces. The heavy, fishy smell of the seafood filled the air, slowly mixing with the faint, sweet scent of decay starting to rise from my corpse. Roxy ate greedily, her lips slick with butter. She cracked open a lobster claw and casually tossed the sharp shell backward. *Clack.* The shell landed right on my face, catching on my eyelashes. It was a sick, ironic sight. “Hey, Hope, stop faking.” “Get up and clean this trash. Don’t think you can skip your chores just by lying there.” I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Linda peeled a piece of crab meat and fed it to Roxy. “Don’t worry about that useless girl. Just looking at her ruins my appetite.” “Our Roxy is the one with real guts. She knows how to be ruthless to get what she wants.” “Once you go to college, you’re going to do great things.” Harold drank his beer, his face flushing red from the alcohol. He pointed a finger toward my bed. “We spoiled her too much. ‘Pain empathy’? It’s probably just a mental illness. She just wanted attention.” “Look at Roxy. She bleeds and doesn’t cry. That’s what a leader looks like.” They kept eating, laughing, and planning Roxy’s bright future. Not once did anyone walk over to check if I was breathing. If they had just bent down, they might have realized I could still have been saved. But they didn’t. They truly believed I was just playing a game, silent-treating them. After finishing her meal, Roxy let out a loud burp. She looked toward my bed and suddenly found it annoying. “Mom, the way she’s lying there is creepy. Her eyes are wide open. It’s bad luck.” Linda stood up. She went to the kitchen drawer, pulled out an old, stained tablecloth, and walked over. Like throwing a tarp over a pile of garbage, she threw it over my head. “Out of sight, out of mind.” “She sleeps on the floor tonight. Nobody give her a blanket. Let’s see how long she can keep up this act.” A dirty tablecloth. It covered my unblinking, dead eyes. And it covered the last shred of humanity in this house. My soul shivered in the air. Not from the cold, but from the absolute, freezing realization of how little I meant to them.

The night went on. The AC in the living room was set to a freezing sixty degrees. This sped up my rigor mortis. Before going to her room, Roxy walked past me. On a petty whim, she stomped heavily on my stomach through the tablecloth. “Clean the floor tomorrow. It’s covered in my blood. It’s disgusting.” It was a heavy stomp. But I felt nothing. Instead, my stiffened, cold body bruised her foot. She muttered, “Stiff as a rock. You and your garbage attitude.” The next morning. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, illuminating the shape under the tablecloth. Roxy woke up feeling refreshed. When she walked out, she saw I was still in the exact same spot. She marched over and snatched the tablecloth away. My face had already turned a ghastly shades of blue and purple. The dried white foam on my lips had turned crusty. Roxy froze for a second, then burst into a mocking laugh. “Wow, Hope. You really went all out to scare me.” “Who did you do this zombie makeup for? You should have gone to film school instead.” She actually thought it was makeup. She kicked my stiff arm with her sneaker. “Alright, cut it out. I’m going to school. Make sure you wash my sneakers today.” She threw the tablecloth back over my face and hummed a tune as she walked out the door. I floated out right behind her. At school, Roxy was on top of the world. She showed off the forged Ivy League admission letter to everyone in her class. “Well, some people can study all they want, but the spot still belongs to me in the end,” she bragged. A few girls who always disliked her rolled their eyes. “Stealing your own sister’s spot. You’re disgusting, Roxy.” Roxy’s face twisted in rage. She lunged forward and slapped the girl hard across the face. *Smack!* It was loud and clear. The girl was stunned for a second, but then she lost it. She grabbed Roxy’s arm, digging her long acrylic nails deep into Roxy’s flesh. If this were yesterday, I would be rolling on the floor in a corner of the school, screaming in agony. Because all that pain would have hit me. But today, I was dead. Roxy looked down at the nails sinking into her arm, and a bizarre, twisted thrill washed over her face. She felt nothing. Absolutely nothing. “Is that all you got?” Roxy laughed mockingly. She grabbed the girl by her hair and slammed her head against the desk. The sheer brutality of her attack terrified everyone in the room. Because she feared no pain, she had no limits. “I am invincible!” Roxy laughed like a psychopath as she beat the girl bloody. The principal was called, and so were the parents. Linda rushed to the school. But instead of apologizing, she screamed at the victim’s family in the office. “Your daughter started it! My girl was just defending herself!” “My daughter is gifted! She’s physically resilient, unlike your fragile little brat who cries over a scratch!” The principal pointed at the security footage. “Mrs. Miller, your daughter was incredibly violent…” “That’s because she’s brave! She’s tough!” Linda said proudly. “Unlike her useless sister, who is a spineless coward.” Mentioning me made Linda remember that she needed me to sign some paperwork at the school to finalize the admission transfer. She pulled out her phone and called me. *Ring… Ring… Ring…* The phone rang, but it was just vibrating on the coffee table back in our living room. Nobody answered. “That little bitch. Still throwing a tantrum,” Linda muttered, hanging up. “Just wait until I get home. I’ll teach her a lesson.” Watching this from the ceiling, I found it hilarious. While they were defending a monster, they didn’t miss a single chance to insult their dead child. They even mistook the silence of a corpse for rebellion.

That evening, Roxy and Linda returned home. I followed them inside. My body was still lying in the corner of the living room, covered by the dirty tablecloth. It had been over twenty-four hours now. A faint, sickly odor was starting to creep through the apartment. But Linda had cooked a greasy, heavily-spiced garlic pasta for dinner, and the strong aroma masked the smell of my decay. Roxy took a screenshot of a new designer bag and sent it to the family group chat. “Dad, Mom, I want this bag as a reward for getting into the Ivy League.” Harold looked at the price tag. Three thousand dollars. He frowned. “We just paid the ‘donation’ fee for your admission. Things are a bit tight right now.” Roxy immediately threw a tantrum, kicking the chair. “I don’t care! I want it! All the other Ivy League kids have nice things!” Linda tried to soothe her. “Sweetie, can we buy it next month?” Roxy’s eyes darted around, and a sinister idea popped into her head. “Mom, Dad, you know how those rich kids drive like maniacs in the wealthy suburbs near the hills?” “Since I don’t feel pain anyway, what if I stage an accident?” She grinned excitedly. “I just need to find a street with no cameras, wait for a sports car, and let it clip me.” “Those rich snobs are terrified of lawsuits. They’ll offer a quick cash settlement to keep it quiet. We could get tens of thousands of dollars easily!” My soul shuddered. Was this a family, or a pack of demons? She talked about committing insurance fraud as casually as ordering takeout. But what was worse was my parents’ reaction. Harold took a drag from his cigarette and actually nodded. “It’s risky, but doable. Just make sure you pick the right spot so you don’t end up paralyzed.” Linda looked slightly worried. “What if you get a nasty scar? You’re a girl, you shouldn’t have scars on your skin.” Roxy cast a disdainful glance at the shape under the tablecloth in the corner. “Why should I worry?” “If my skin gets ruined, we’ll just have the doctors graft some of Hope’s skin onto me.” “She’s a useless loser anyway. Her skin is perfectly fine. It would be a waste not to use it.” “And if my kidney gets damaged, we’ll just take one of hers.” “I’m the older sister. Why shouldn’t she sacrifice a little for me?” Harold nodded, exhaling a thick ring of smoke. “True. We’ve fed and housed her for eighteen years. It’s about time she made herself useful.” Linda smiled, relieved. “Alright, then it’s settled. Just protect your face.” They sat around the table, happily discussing the details of the insurance scam. They completely forgot that their “living organ bank” was already a decomposing corpse. After dinner, Roxy was in great spirits. She walked over to the corner and kicked my body hard. “Hey, did you hear that?” “Be ready to go to the hospital and give me your skin when the time comes.” “Stop playing dead, you hear me?” Of course, there was no reply. Only a dull, heavy thud as her foot hit my stiffening leg. Roxy sneered. “Fucking pig. She sleeps like she’s dead.” She turned around and walked out the door to carry out her grand plan. Watching her leave, my soul felt a surge of anticipation. Roxy chose a quiet intersection in the wealthy part of town. There were no traffic cameras, and it was a popular spot for rich college kids to drag race their sports cars. She hid behind the bushes, waiting like a predator. I floated in the air above her, silently waiting for the show to start. Soon, the loud roar of an engine echoed in the distance. A bright red Ferrari came speeding down the road like a flash of lightning. A greedy spark lit up Roxy’s eyes. She took a deep breath, calculating the distance. She just needed a minor hit, a little roll on the asphalt, and a broken bone or two. The settlement money would fly into her pockets. After all, Hope would be the one feeling the agony. Hope would be the one suffering through the broken bones. She was used to it. For eighteen years, she had abused this link. From getting vaccines to breaking bones, she had never shed a single tear. Because every ounce of pain was instantly transferred to her weak, pathetic sister. The car was close! Roxy jumped out of the bushes straight into the lane! *SCREECH—!!!* The sound of burning rubber sliced through the night as the Ferrari slammed on its brakes, leaving long black skid marks. But the car was going too fast. It couldn’t stop in time. *BANG!* A horrific crash. Roxy was thrown into the air like a ragdoll, spinning twice before slamming hard onto the asphalt.

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My sister had the power of the Midas touch. With a single tap of her finger, she could turn rotting wood into solid gold. She started live-streaming, letting her viewers choose what to transform. Overnight, half of our house was turned into gold bricks. However, every time she performed her “miracle,” my personal gold investment portfolio shrank. When I realized something was wrong and confronted her, she accused me of being jealous. “Hazel, is it because I’m famous now and you’re green with envy? Should I toss you a gold coin or two as charity?” My father, wearing a thick gold chain she had “manifested,” slapped me across the face in a rage. “You just can’t stand to see this family succeed! Chloe is talented and loves this family. You claimed you saved up gold—where is it then?!” Clutching my swollen cheek, I made a silent vow to expose her lies. But as days went by, I found nothing. Meanwhile, my gold savings were completely drained. Until the day I was diagnosed with a tumor. That was the day Chloe started another live-stream. “Send me some gifts, guys! Today, I’m going to manifest fifty pounds of gold live on camera!”

After a grueling shift of overtime, I habitually opened my financial app to check my gold investment portfolio. My brows furrowed. The numbers were off. It was only short by a fraction of a gram—worth maybe twenty dollars—but for someone like me who calculated every penny and watched the market daily, this was no illusion. “Probably just a system delay or a market spread,” I muttered to myself. I didn’t dwell on it. The market had been wildly volatile lately, and such a minor glitch was negligible for a long-term holder. Before I could lock my screen, my dad’s call came through, frantic and loud. “Hazel! Get home right now! Something massive has happened!” “What’s wrong?” I asked, instantly tense. My dad’s ecstatic voice blasted through my AirPods. “Your sister is a goddess! She can turn things into gold!” I sighed, kicking off my flats at the door. “Dad, have you been brainwashed by those TikTok conspiracy videos again? Or is Chloe pulling another prank for her stream?” “You stubborn brat, why don’t you believe me?! Just get your butt home! Every minute you waste is costing us a fortune!” The line went dead. I shook my head in exasperation. My sister, Chloe, had been a headache since she was a kid. She wanted to be an influencer, then an actress, wasting tons of family money in the process. God knew what kind of stunt she was pulling this time. When I pushed the door open, my dad was jumping up and down in the living room, clutching his phone. “Look! Your sister is a miracle worker!” Dad practically shoved his screen into my face. “Chloe just tapped her finger, and five hundred dollars appeared out of thin air in my Venmo! Five hundred bucks!” I glanced at the screen. The notification did show a five-hundred-dollar deposit, but the transaction memo was just a string of encrypted, random characters. “Oh, you’re back, Hazel,” Chloe said, casting a dismissive glance at me. “Dad said you didn’t believe in my superpower.” “Then open your gold investment app,” Dad urged impatiently. Under his pressuring gaze, I unlocked my phone and tapped the gold-and-black icon of my brokerage app. “Watch closely,” Chloe said. She tapped the air lightly with her index finger. In the next second, my heart skipped a beat, and I nearly dropped my phone. On the screen, my gold balance—which was originally around 300 grams—started ticking upward rapidly without any purchase order from me. 350 grams. 400 grams. 500 grams! In the blink of an eye, my portfolio had doubled! My hands shook as I refreshed the page three times, even logging out and back in. The extra gold was still there, sitting securely in my account. It was worth nearly fifteen thousand dollars! “How… how is this possible?” I stared at Chloe, dumbfounded. “I told you it was real!” Dad slapped his thigh in excitement. “Chloe has the golden touch now! Everything she points at turns to money!” Chloe couldn’t hide the smug satisfaction in her eyes. “Believe me now, Hazel? This is called manifestation.” “You used to tell me that manifesting was just a lazy fantasy. What about now? I manifested actual wealth. Pretty impressive, right?”

The evidence was right in front of me. Looking at the very real transaction history, I had no choice but to believe it. I frowned, stepping closer to inspect my sister. “Does this power have any side effects? Chloe, do you feel sick or anything?” She pushed me away impatiently. “Oh, stop being such a buzzkill, Hazel. We’re about to be millionaires. Who cares about side effects?” Dad’s eyes gleamed with greed. He slapped his forehead, an idea striking him. “Chloe, your sister actually has a point. What if there’s a limit to this power? We need to maximize it! Let’s start a live stream. People on TikTok go crazy for this stuff.” Dad had already mapped out a grand blueprint in his head. “We don’t have to use the real power all the time; that would be too exhausting. We can buy some gold foil and metallic paint beforehand. Prepare some old wood and rocks. During the stream, use those props as cover, and only perform the real transformation at key moments. The visual impact will go viral!” Chloe’s eyes lit up. “Yes! And we can run a giveaway! We can randomly select a lucky viewer and ‘manifest’ gold directly into their investment accounts—just like I did for Hazel! Once people see real money hitting their accounts, they’ll shower me with expensive digital gifts!” The two of them got more and more excited, as if they could already see mountains of cash falling from the sky. Standing on the side, watching their feverish excitement, a deep sense of dread crept into my heart. The conservation of energy is a fundamental law of physics. How could something be created out of nothing without a price? I couldn’t help but speak up. “Dad, Chloe, this is too bizarre. What if this power is draining her life? We should take Chloe to the hospital for a checkup first, or at least keep this low-key. What if some government agency takes her away for research? And what if taxing this power ruins her health?” The smile on Dad’s face froze. Slowly, his expression turned into utter disgust. “What are you talking about?! Your sister has a gift, and instead of being happy for her, you’re cursing her?” Chloe gently pulled Dad’s sleeve, putting on a soft, victimized voice. “Dad, don’t blame Hazel. She’s just worried about me. Honestly, every time I use this power, I do feel completely drained, like my soul is being hollowed out.” Hearing this, I was about to warn her again, but her tone suddenly shifted. She looked up, looking incredibly noble and self-sacrificing. “But for our family to live a good life, for you to live in a mansion and wear a Rolex, what does a little sacrifice matter? As long as we can be rich, I don’t mind losing a few years of my life.” Tears welled up in Dad’s eyes. He glared at me fiercely, then grabbed Chloe’s hands. “Look at your sister! Now that is selflessness! That is true love! Chloe is talented and devoted, unlike you—useless and filled with jealousy!” “You claimed you saved up gold. Where is it? You’ve worked for years and you’re still a low-level corporate drone. Last time I asked you to cover a dinner bill with my friends, you said you couldn’t afford it and made me lose face! I haven’t even settled that score with you yet!” “Get out of my house, you jealous leech. You won’t get a single penny of our wealth!” I was shoved toward the door. The door slammed shut, then opened briefly just for my purse to be hurled out onto the hallway floor. Chloe looked down at me with a smirk. “Hazel, I know you’re jealous. The gold I manifested effortlessly is worth more than what you’ve earned working yourself to death for years.” “But that’s reality. Are you green with envy? Maybe I can toss you some spare change?” I took a deep breath. Instead of rushing to pick up my bag, I looked her dead in the eye and warned her. “I’m your sister, which is why I’m telling you this. You admitted this manifestation has side effects. Dad’s greed is a bottomless pit. Don’t ruin your own health just to pull cash out of thin air.” I quietly bent down to pick up my purse, but she kicked it, sending it tumbling down the stairs. “Oops. My bad, Hazel. My foot slipped. Guess you’ll have to walk down and get it.” “To tell you the truth,” Chloe said, casually inspecting her manicure with a mocking smile, “the side effects aren’t mine to bear. But you might want to start working harder to make more money, sis.” “What do you mean by that?” I lunged forward to stop her from closing the door. But she slammed it shut with brute force. The heavy security door clamped hard onto my hand, forcing me to pull back in pain.

Standing outside the locked door, I could hear Dad asking from inside what happened. “Nothing, Dad. Hazel was just trying to threaten me into giving her gold, but I refused.” Then came Dad’s loud curses through the door. I didn’t want to listen anymore. Over the next few days, I went to work as usual. The gold market was booming, the charts were entirely green, and everyone was celebrating the gold bull run. During a break, I habitually opened my gold investment app to see how much my portfolio had grown. But the moment I saw my balance, my blood ran cold. I was down fifty grams. I rubbed my eyes, thinking I was hallucinating. The market was skyrocketing. Even if I had made some terrible mistake, the total value might fluctuate, but how could the physical weight of my holdings just vanish? I immediately opened the transaction history. My hands began to shake. The log showed that just ten minutes ago, a “sell” order had been executed. Fifty grams of gold had been liquidated, and the funds had been transferred to an unfamiliar intermediary account, disappearing without a trace. “This is impossible. I was in a meeting ten minutes ago! My phone was in my purse the whole time!” I immediately called customer support. “Hi, I need to report unauthorized transactions! My account just had fifty grams of gold liquidated without my consent! This has to be a system glitch or a hack!” The representative’s voice was calm and professional. “Ma’am, we have verified the transaction logs. The trade was executed from your registered device and passed both your transaction password and face recognition verification. From our end, this was a authorized transaction. There is no system error.” “But I didn’t do it! I swear!” “I want to file a complaint! Your security is flawed!” I was on the verge of tears. “Ma’am, if you believe your identity has been stolen, we highly recommend you file a police report. We will cooperate with the investigation. We will get back to you within three business days.” As I hung up, a chill ran down my spine. My registered device? Facial recognition? This was insane. Distracted and terrified, I couldn’t focus on work anymore. To calm my nerves, I aimlessly opened TikTok. Right at the top of my feed was Chloe’s live stream. The caption screamed in bold letters: **”GRATEFUL FAN DAY! SELECTING LUCKY WINNERS FOR LIVE GOLD MANIFESTATION!”** Hoping to see what kind of game she was playing, I tapped in. On screen, Chloe was wearing an elaborate, expensive outfit, sitting in the middle of our living room. “Guys, the gifts you’re sending are insane! To show my appreciation, I’m going to pick a lucky viewer right now and manifest some gold straight into their investment account! Who wants to go first?” The chat was flying by. Soon, she connected via video call with an ecstatic male fan. “Oh my god, Chloe! I only have ten grams of gold in my account. Can you really make it grow?” Chloe gave a sweet smile to the camera. “Of course. Watch closely, everyone. Time to witness a miracle.” She pointed her slender index finger toward the screen and whispered, “Manifest!” In the next second, the fan screamed. “What the hell?! Oh my god! It actually worked! I just got an extra fifty grams! Fifty grams of gold out of nowhere! Chloe, are you a literal goddess?!” I sat frozen. Because at that exact moment, a push notification popped up on my phone. *Your gold investment account has successfully liquidated 50g of gold.* Before I could even process this bizarre “synchronized debiting,” my phone rang. It was an unknown number. It was the medical center where I had my annual company checkup. “Hello, Miss Hazel. Your lab results from last week are in. We detected a nodule on your thyroid. While it currently appears to be a benign tumor, we highly recommend you schedule a follow-up immediately to monitor it and ensure it doesn’t spread.” A sudden realization struck me like a bolt of lightning. I looked at Chloe’s smug, triumphant face on the screen, and then down at the debit notification from my bank. So that was it! There was no such thing as the Midas touch, and no wealth was being created out of thin air. I grabbed my car keys and bolted out of the office. I started the engine and slammed my foot on the gas pedal. I had to hurry. I had to get to that place immediately! Only there could I solve this nightmare. While waiting at a red light, I mounted my phone on the dashboard. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her stream had reached number one on the platform. Chloe’s face was flushed with excitement as digital gifts flooded her screen. “Guys, fifty grams was just the appetizer! To thank our top gifter for sending one hundred TikTok Universes, I’m going to do something massive!” “Next, I’ll select a few super-lucky winners to manifest fifty pounds of gold! Who’s ready for the challenge?!” The chat went absolutely feral. The comments were moving so fast they were a blur. A wave of disgust washed over me. I pulled over, tapped on the chat, and quickly typed a message: *【Manifesting gold? Chloe, stop lying. I know exactly what you’ve been doing.】*

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One week before the wedding, I stood outside a private room at a private club and overheard my fiancé talking with his buddies. He said he had never liked me. The one he truly liked was his childhood sweetheart, Melissa Stone. He said he had only pursued me to disgust my ex, and that he was planning to play my sex video at the wedding, then break off the engagement in public and have my reputation destroyed. He thought I would obediently walk down the red carpet and wait for him to humiliate me. But he had no idea that the video about to be played at the wedding would be a sex video of him and Melissa Stone. Jane Winters POV My name is Jane Winters. I used to be Adrian Cole’s simp, and everyone in their circle mocked me for it. I spent seven years pining after Adrian Cole, but he was cold to me from beginning to end. Five years ago, I gave up on Adrian Cole and accepted a confession from his archrival, Sebastian Grant. From then on, Sebastian Grant spoiled me like I was the center of the universe. He set off fireworks across the entire city just to celebrate my birthday. He bought a necklace worth over a hundred million just because I had glanced at it one more time. To get his parents to agree to let him marry me, he even went on a hunger strike for seven days and seven nights. I became someone everyone in their circle envied. I thought so too. Until one week before the wedding, when I went to the private club to pick Sebastian Grant up and take him home. When I reached the door of the private room, I was just about to push it open when I heard voices drifting through the crack in the door. “Sebastian, are you seriously planning to play Jane Winters’s sex video at the wedding?” A loud ringing filled my head and I froze completely, and my whole body froze in place as if I had been struck by lightning. The one speaking was Sebastian Grant’s childhood friend, Joe Harris. Normally, whenever he saw me, he would respectfully call me Ms. Winters. “Of course. Sebastian got together with Jane Winters just to disgust Adrian Cole, didn’t he?” The one who answered was another childhood friend, Daniel Carter. The excitement in his tone was practically overflowing. Everyone was talking with such enthusiasm that none of them noticed there was still someone standing outside the private room. I stood outside the door, my mind went completely numb and empty, my ears ringing, and forgetting how to react. “Tell me, when Adrian Cole sees Jane Winters’s sex video at the wedding, do you think he’ll be so pissed he coughs blood?” Roars of laughter came through the crack in the door. “Forget coughing blood. I bet he’ll be so mad he dies on the spot!” Someone let out a whistle. “It’ll be livestreamed across the internet. Where is Adrian Cole supposed to put his face then?” The group chattered over one another, their voices full of the thrill of watching a spectacle. Every time we had sex, Sebastian Grant would hold up his phone and aim it at me. I would shake my head and say no. Then he would lean over and kiss my forehead. “Be good. It won’t get leaked. I just want to watch it when I miss you, okay?” My heart had softened, and I had agreed. I never thought that was the real purpose of those videos. “Who told Adrian Cole and Sebastian to be archrivals? Otherwise, Sebastian wouldn’t have deliberately found a few thugs to assault Jane Winters just to screw with him, then play the hero and save the damsel in distress, confess to her, and put up with his disgust while dating her for five years.” My stomach clenched violently, and a sweet, metallic taste surged up into my mouth. That stormy night five years ago. Once again, Adrian Cole had left me by the roadside. A few thugs rushed out of an alley. They tore my clothes apart, covered my mouth, and dragged me deep into the alley. I struggled with everything I had, my fingernails breaking against the ground. I thought I was going to die in that alley. Sebastian Grant appeared. He beat those men off, took off his jacket and wrapped it around me, then carried me into his car. I curled up in his arms, trembling all over. He lowered his head. “It’s okay now. I’m here.” At that moment, I thought Sebastian Grant was the man I would choose for the rest of my life. I never imagined that he was the one who had orchestrated that assault. In that moment, I felt as if the hallway were spinning. The conversation inside the private room continued. “Sebastian really had foresight. Back then, he could tell Adrian Cole loved her without realizing it, so he snatched Jane Winters up early.” “Exactly. Adrian Cole regretted it later. How many times has he gone to confess to Jane Winters? But our Sebastian is just too charming. He made Jane Winters so devoted she refused to turn back.” “Right? This wedding will be the final blow to Cole. After this, he’ll never be able to hold his head up again in the capital!” They clinked their glasses again. The sound of glasses striking the table landed in my heart too. I leaned against the hallway wall, my legs going weak. Someone laughingly teased Sebastian Grant. “Sebastian, why aren’t you saying anything? You’ve treated Jane Winters so well these past five years. Don’t tell me you actually developed feelings for her?” “If Sebastian really fell for her, then he’d have shot himself in the foot!” I held my breath and stared fixedly at him through the crack in the door. I was waiting for Sebastian Grant to deny all of it. Sebastian Grant sat in the seat of honor, his long legs crossed. His expression was hidden in the shadows, dark and unreadable. The private room was quiet for a long while. At last, the man’s low voice sounded, carrying a hint of mockery. “Like her? She’s boring as hell. I’ll take the chance to break off the engagement in public at the wedding.” He said it slowly and unhurriedly. I could hardly believe those words had come from Sebastian Grant. But that was his voice. “I’ve never liked her. The only one in my heart is Melissa.” Melissa Stone, Sebastian Grant’s childhood sweetheart, the group’s favourite in their inner circle. Every time I got jealous, Sebastian Grant would say she was just like a little sister and tell me not to overthink it. “This game has gone on for five years. It’s time for it to end. On the wedding day, I’ll destroy Jane Winters completely, and Adrian Cole too.” Sebastian Grant’s tone was the same coldness and composure I knew so well. “Isn’t that move a little too ruthless? What will happen to Jane Winters afterward? That’s her sex video being livestreamed across the internet!” “What do you know? If Jane Winters’s reputation isn’t completely ruined, what if Adrian Cole marries her later?” “Exactly. Once Jane Winters has her reputation destroyed, Adrian Cole’s father will never agree to let her marry into the family.” “Sebastian’s move is brilliant!” “I can’t wait to watch Jane Winters’s little video and Adrian Cole’s dead-man face!” Laughter burst out in the private room again. So the five years of feelings had been a scam from beginning to end. The deep affection I believed in was only an act Sebastian Grant put on to get revenge on Adrian Cole. The grand wedding I believed in was the execution ground Sebastian Grant had meticulously plotted for me. I loosened my grip on the door handle. Tears fell onto the carpet without a sound. I turned and walked toward the elevator. The moment the elevator doors closed, I bent over and dry-heaved. My phone lit up. It was a message from Sebastian Grant. [Darling, when are you coming to pick me up?] He was saying he was going to destroy me, yet he was still calling me darling. I wiped away my tears and typed a reply with force. [I’m not feeling well. Find a designated driver.] When I walked out the doors of the private club, the rain came crashing down over my head and face. As if I couldn’t feel it at all, I walked into the rain. On that stormy night five years ago, Sebastian Grant had pulled me back from hell to the world of the living. On this stormy night, Sebastian Grant had knocked me from the world of the living back into hell. Rain poured into my eyes, mixing with my tears. “I’ll destroy Jane Winters completely on the wedding day.” Sebastian Grant’s words crashed around in my mind again and again. They grew louder and louder until they rang like a great bell, as if they wanted to shatter my brain. Sebastian Grant, you really are a damn good actor. Since you’ve lied to me for so long, on the wedding day, I’ll give you a grand gift too. That isn’t too much, is it?

Jane Winters POV I chased Adrian Cole for seven years. One stunning glimpse of him on the high school basketball court, and I was done for. After that, I waited by the court with water at every basketball game. Every morning, I brought him breakfast. Adrian Cole never accepted it once. The breakfasts were thrown into the trash untouched. When I greeted him, he never even lifted his eyelids. I followed him to the same university, asked around for his schedule, and signed up for every public lecture he took. After graduation, I went to the Cole family company to apply for a job. Adrian Cole called security and had me escorted out in front of my coworkers. His friends treated me like a joke, and when he heard them, he pretended not to. Until that stormy night, when Adrian Cole’s buddy pretended to be him and tricked me into going to a bar. When I got there, I realized Adrian Cole was sitting in a booth, surrounded by a group of people. He glanced at me, got up, and left without saying a word. I walked out of the bar in the rain and ran into those thugs at the mouth of the alley. Sebastian Grant just happened to appear. My seven years of obsession ended that night. Sebastian Grant spoiled me in a showy, extravagant way. People in their circle said he had picked up the trash Adrian Cole didn’t want. He didn’t care. In front of everyone, he held my hand, his eyes only on me. I believed him. I completely let go of Adrian Cole and loved Sebastian Grant with all my heart. But then Adrian Cole regretted it. He came to confess to me, and I rejected him. The tone in their circle changed overnight, and they began mocking Adrian Cole as a clown. The two archrivals fought over me for five years. But I never imagined that the real clown, from beginning to end, was me. At eleven that night, the door lock clicked. Sebastian Grant pushed the door open and came in, reeking of alcohol. When he saw me curled up on the sofa, he crossed the room in a few quick strides and pulled me into his arms. “Where do you feel unwell? Is it serious?” His hand pressed against my forehead, his tone urgent. If I hadn’t heard those words in the private room, at this moment, I definitely would have thought I was the happiest person in the world. I turned my head and avoided his hand. “I’m just tired from preparing for the wedding. It’s nothing.” Sebastian Grant didn’t get suspicious. He took my hand and led me toward the bedroom. “Then let me reward you properly.” Those words made my stomach churn. I pulled my hand back. “You reek of smoke and alcohol. It’s suffocating.” Sebastian Grant paused, then laughed. “All right, all right. I’ll go wash up.” The sound of water came from the bathroom. I sat on the edge of the bed and stared at the floor lamp in the corner of the bedroom. A photo Sebastian Grant had taken of me in Bali last year was still stuck to the lampshade. In the photo, I was smiling brightly. Sebastian Grant was holding me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. The water stopped. Sebastian Grant came out while drying his hair, got into bed, and hugged me from behind. “In one more week, I’ll finally marry you, darling.” I clenched the bedsheet beneath me. “Do you really not mind that I pursued Adrian Cole before?” Sebastian Grant’s arms tightened. “Why bring him up? I told you, everything in the past is over.” He buried his face in the hollow of my neck and took a deep breath. “I only love you.” If I hadn’t heard him say with my own ears that he had never liked me, I would have believed him again. “Mm. It’s over.” Sebastian Grant’s hand slid up from my waist, restlessly exploring higher. The image of him holding up his phone flashed through my mind, and my whole body went cold. “I’m tired today. Next time.” Sebastian Grant’s hand stopped. After a pause, he pulled me a little closer into his arms. “Okay. We’ll do what you want. I’m finally going to marry you.” Sebastian Grant’s breathing gradually deepened, and the strength in his arms loosened too. I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling. Until Sebastian Grant was completely asleep. I gently pried Sebastian Grant’s arm away and got out of bed. Sebastian Grant’s phone was on the nightstand. The password was my birthday. I unlocked it and found the encrypted folder buried deep in his album. I tried the password three times. On the third try, I entered Melissa Stone’s birthday. It unlocked. Inside were dozens of videos. All of them were of me. My stomach cramped again. Select all. Delete. Empty the trash. Exit the album. Then I opened Instagram. In the past, I trusted Sebastian Grant and had never gone through his phone. Now that the trust was shattered, I had to see everything for myself. First, I found the group chat between Sebastian Grant and his buddies. The chat history stretched from several years ago all the way to today. Joe Harris had once sent a photo of me from behind while I was cooking in the kitchen: [Jane Winters’s body is a five from the front and an eight from the back. Sebastian, how do you even put up with it?] Sebastian Grant replied with a disgusted reaction image: [With the lights off in bed, all women are the same.] Daniel Carter followed up with a string of reaction images: [Sebastian’s sacrifice is way too big. Should we give you an award?] I kept scrolling. On my birthday, Sebastian Grant had sent a message: [Have to act all lovey-dovey for half the day again today. Exhausting.] Joe Harris replied: [Thanks for your hard work, Sebastian. The buddies will take you out to relax later.] My hands were shaking. I kept scrolling and found a contact hidden in Sebastian Grant’s contacts, saved under the note Little Moon. I tapped on the profile photo. It was a side profile of Melissa Stone. This Instagram account was different from the one I had added. It was Melissa Stone’s alternate account. I used my own phone to register a new Instagram account and added Melissa Stone’s alternate account. Melissa Stone’s posts had no privacy settings. The latest one was from three days ago. A photo: Sebastian Grant’s hand rested on her waist, the two of them pressed together, cheek to cheek. The caption: [He said he’ll come to me as soon as the wedding is over. He can’t wait.] Further back was a ten-second video. Sebastian Grant was kissing Melissa Stone’s forehead, and Melissa Stone was tilting her face up with a smile. The caption was: [Only I am his darling.] Further back, Melissa Stone had posted a paragraph: [He said Jane Winters is like a dead fish in bed. Hahahahaha I’m dying.] Melissa Stone commented on her own post: [Poor tool. She still thinks she’s Mrs. Grant.] I put down the phone. Tears fell onto the screen, splashing like a flower of water and blurring that line of text. As I cried, I laughed. I got up and went to the bathroom. I turned on the faucet, and cold water splashed over my face. I looked at the shattered, devastated face in the mirror. My eyes were swollen like peaches, and the tip of my nose was bright red. “Jane Winters, don’t be afraid,” I whispered. My heart hardened inch by inch. Sebastian Grant, I hope you don’t regret this later. I returned to the bedroom and put Sebastian Grant’s phone back where it had been. Then I opened my own phone and started searching for an immigration agency. After finishing everything, I lay back down in bed. Beside me, Sebastian Grant turned over, and his arm reached for me again. I shifted toward the edge of the bed, moving farther away from him.

Jane Winters POV When I woke up, Sebastian Grant was no longer in bed. The sound of a spatula clanging came from the kitchen. “Darling, get up and eat.” Sebastian Grant carried the dishes out. On the table were heart-shaped egg toast with strawberry jam, all things I liked. I didn’t hurry out. My eyes were still a little swollen. I pressed cold water over them for ten minutes, then applied a layer of concealer. Only after confirming nothing looked off did I open the door and go out. Sebastian Grant pulled out a chair for me to sit down and pushed the soup in front of me. “After breakfast, let’s go to the office together. We have an appointment at the bridal boutique today to try on your wedding dress.” He said it with a smile, his tone full of anticipation. That wedding dress was designed by Sebastian Grant himself. He had found a workshop in France to sew it entirely by hand over three months. It was worth eight figures. Sebastian Grant had said he wanted to give me the best wedding dress in the world. To put on this show, he really had spent a fortune. I drank a mouthful of milk and swallowed it down. “Actually, it doesn’t need to be so troublesome.” Sebastian Grant ruffled my hair. “It’s not troublesome. To marry you, any amount of trouble is worth it.” I lowered my head and ate without speaking again. My phone suddenly rang. I recognized that ringtone. It was Melissa Stone’s exclusive ringtone. Sebastian Grant glanced at the caller ID, then got up and walked to the balcony. “I’ll take this call.” He slid the balcony door shut behind him. The glass cut off his conversation. But I could see him leaning against the railing, head lowered as he smiled. I looked away and continued eating. The egg was fried perfectly. But when I chewed it, it had no taste at all. Sebastian Grant hung up the phone and hurriedly pushed the door open to come in. “Sweetheart, you go to the company first. I have something urgent to take care of.” He grabbed the car keys from the table, lowered his head, and kissed my forehead. Before I could answer, he was already out the door. The door shut behind him, and the draft blew a napkin off the dining table. Anything involving Melissa Stone was always urgent. Clients could be ignored. Meetings could be canceled. One call from Melissa Stone, and he would come running whenever called. I set down my spoon. I pulled up the immigration agency I had saved last night and called them. “Hello, I want to immigrate. The sooner, the better.” “Of course, ma’am. Please submit your documents as soon as possible. The fastest we can complete everything is one week.” One week. Exactly the day of the wedding. After hanging up, I photographed each document the agency requested and sent them over. More than half the breakfast on the table was still untouched. I picked up the plate and dumped all the food into the trash. Sebastian Grant’s cooking really was good. Too bad I no longer wanted to eat it. I took a cab to the company myself. Ever since I got together with Sebastian Grant, he had asked me to work at his company. He said it was so he could see me every moment of every day. Only now did I understand. Seeing me every moment of every day was so he could keep this chess piece under his nose and prevent it from going out of control. When I arrived at the office, I shut the door and turned on the computer. For the past five years, I had worked diligently, and I knew Sebastian Grant’s company’s finances inside and out. I spent two hours organizing a detailed statement of accounts. Just as I finished, my phone rang. It was Sebastian Grant. “Sweetheart, go straight to the bridal boutique later. I won’t come pick you up.” “You’re not coming to the company?” I asked. “Didn’t you have an important client to meet this morning?” The other end of the line paused. “I still have something to take care of.” I knew what it was. No matter how important the client was, how could they compare to Melissa Stone? “Okay.” I hung up, picked up my bag, and left. The bridal boutique was in the downtown commercial district. The storefront was small, but it was top-tier in the industry. I didn’t go in. I simply stood at the glass door. Inside, the lighting was soft and expensive. Beneath the crystal chandelier, Melissa Stone stood in front of the fitting mirror. She was wearing my wedding dress. The handmade lace hugged her waist, and the train dragged across the floor. The gown fit her like it was custom-made just for her. Melissa Stone turned, the hem sweeping over the floor like a white flower in full bloom. The staff member beside her had an indescribable look on her face. She stood in the corner, eyes dodging, and no one dared to speak. I saw Sebastian Grant standing behind Melissa Stone, both hands in his pants pockets, his expression relaxed. Melissa Stone tilted her head at the mirror, then looked back at him. “Sebastian, do I look better than Jane Winters in this wedding dress?” Sebastian Grant smiled indulgently. “Our Melissa looks good in anything.” Chapter 4 Jane Winters POV I pushed the door open and walked in. The wind chime tinkled sharply as I pushed the door open. Sebastian Grant turned his head. The moment he saw me, the smile on his face froze. He quickly pulled his hands out of his pockets and strode over in a few steps, taking my hand. “Sweetheart, you got here so fast?” He stepped between Melissa Stone and me, a hint of urgency in his voice. “Melissa is just acting like a child. She’s never worn a wedding dress before. She saw that yours was pretty and wanted to try it on. Sweetheart, don’t mind her.” He looked back at Melissa Stone, his tone changing. “Stop messing around. Go change out of it.” It was completely different from the tone he had used when he said, “Melissa looks good in anything.” Melissa Stone pouted, lifted the skirt, and reluctantly walked toward the fitting room. “So petty. It’s just a wedding dress. It’s not like I care.” I stood where I was and quietly watched the scene unfold. In the past, I would have gotten angry. I would have fought with Sebastian Grant and said Melissa Stone had no sense of boundaries. Sebastian Grant would then helplessly coax me, saying I was narrow-minded, that Melissa Stone was still young and immature, and that she meant no harm. The old me really was too stupid. I believed whatever Sebastian Grant said. “I don’t mind. It’s just a piece of clothing.” Sebastian Grant froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to be so calm. In the past, whenever something involved Melissa Stone, every thorn on my body would stand on end. He probed, “Sweetheart, you’re not angry?” “Why would I be angry?” I looked at him. “Didn’t you say she’s like your sister? Since she’s your sister, if she wants to try it on, let her.” In any case, I wouldn’t be wearing that wedding dress. It had nothing to do with me. A flicker of surprise crossed Sebastian Grant’s face. But he didn’t think too much of it. Instead, he looked relieved. “Sweetheart, I’m glad you can think that way. You’re my wife, and from now on, Melissa will be your sister too.” Sister. I wondered what kind of sister he meant. “Sebastian—” Melissa Stone’s voice came from the fitting room, dragging out the last syllable. “The dress is stuck. Come help me.” Sebastian Grant glanced back at me, then turned and ran toward the fitting room. The staff member stood to the side, her expression complicated. She looked at me sympathetically, poured a glass of warm water, and brought it over. “Why don’t you sit over there and wait for a bit?” My expression remained normal. I took the water and sat down in a chair in the resting area. The two of them didn’t come out for a long time. I had no choice but to take out my phone and scroll. The first post was a photo Melissa Stone had posted of herself trying on the wedding dress. Melissa Stone was wearing that wedding dress, standing in front of the mirror. Sebastian Grant was right beside her, his gaze falling on her with deep affection. The caption read: [The wedding dress Sebastian and I designed together. Of course I had to be the first to wear it.] Sebastian Grant had told me this wedding dress was designed for me and tailored to my measurements. So it was another lie. It had been designed for Melissa Stone. The measurements were Melissa Stone’s too. No wonder it fit so perfectly. The comments below were exactly as expected. Joe Harris: [Melissa looks insane in a wedding dress! Way prettier than Jane Winters!] Daniel Carter: [Sebastian’s taste has always been on point.] I exited the post hard and locked my screen. Melissa Stone, why are you in such a hurry? This wedding dress will be yours sooner or later. Sebastian Grant will be yours too. No one is fighting you for him. I sat in the resting area and finished three glasses of water. The fitting room door finally opened. Sebastian Grant came out first. Melissa Stone followed behind him, changed back into her own clothes, but her expression was deeply satisfied. Sebastian Grant quickly walked up to me, his face full of tenderness. “Sweetheart, come try on the wedding dress.” I got up and walked over. Just as I reached the fitting platform, there was a dull sound from above. I instinctively looked up. The enormous crystal chandelier had come loose from the ceiling and was crashing straight down. “Melissa!” Sebastian Grant’s reaction was shockingly fast. He wrapped an arm around Melissa Stone’s waist and threw them both to the side. The two of them rolled into a safe area. All I had time to do was raise my arm to protect my head and face. The crystal chandelier smashed into my shoulder, shards flying everywhere. Agonizing pain exploded from my shoulder blade and spread through my entire arm. Warm blood flowed down along my collarbone. I was knocked to the floor. The staff’s screams sounded as if they were coming from underwater. Sebastian Grant crouched three meters away, holding Melissa Stone’s face in both hands and checking her up and down. “Did it hit you? Does it hurt? Let me see.” His brows were tightly furrowed, his eyes full of heartache. Melissa Stone curled up in his arms, sobbing softly. Not even a strand of her hair had been hurt. Sebastian Grant’s gaze stayed on Melissa Stone the entire time. He did not think of me at all. Before I fainted, I saw Sebastian Grant holding Melissa Stone tightly in his arms, gently wiping the tears from her face with the back of his hand. Chapter 5 Jane Winters POV When I woke again, I was in the hospital. Sebastian Grant was sitting in the chair beside the bed. One hand was holding mine, while the other propped up his forehead, as if he had just woken from a very light sleep. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked haggard and exhausted. “Sweetheart, you’re finally awake.” He leaned toward me with a worried face and reached out to touch my forehead. The anxious look on his face didn’t seem fake. I pulled my hand free, looked away, and stared at the ceiling. Sebastian Grant’s hand froze in midair, then withdrew. “The situation was urgent at the time. Melissa was closer to me. I didn’t think.” He paused, his voice hoarse. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. I didn’t do it on purpose.” I didn’t look at him. “How bad are my injuries?” Sebastian Grant quickly answered, “You needed a few stitches, but the bone wasn’t injured. The doctor said you can be discharged in two days.” He raised his hand and smoothed the hair scattered across my pillow. “It won’t affect our wedding. The boutique has also taken the wedding dress to be repaired. In a week, sweetheart, you’ll still be my most beautiful bride.” I had been hit so badly I needed stitches, and his first reaction was that it wouldn’t affect the wedding. What he cared about had never been me as a person. It was whether that performance could go on smoothly. I tugged at the corner of my mouth. “That’s good.” Since it wouldn’t affect the wedding, then naturally it wouldn’t affect the gift I had prepared for them, either. Nor would it affect my leaving. It really was good. For the next few days, Sebastian Grant stayed at the hospital without leaving my side. Feeding me water and meals, changing my bandages, wiping me down—he did everything himself. During the day, he had his assistant bring documents to the ward and reviewed them right beside my hospital bed. At night, after I fell asleep, he still got up to tuck in my blanket. With my eyes closed, I listened to his light footsteps as he walked over, and I found it absurd. I was already asleep. Who was he putting on the act for? On the day I was discharged, Sebastian Grant personally came to pick me up. But the car did not head in the direction of home. “Sweetheart, to celebrate your recovery, I arranged a surprise for you. Everyone is already waiting.” The car stopped in front of the private club. I looked at that familiar entrance and said nothing, following him inside. When he pushed open the private room door, all of Sebastian Grant’s buddies were there. Joe Harris was the first to stand, smiling broadly. “Jane Winters, congrats on getting discharged!” Daniel Carter also came over with a glass of wine. “Jane Winters, you’ve suffered. We’ll celebrate properly tonight.” Every single one of them was smiling like they meant it. They were the same group of people who had treated me like a joke in the private room that day. Melissa Stone was there too. She sat in the corner. When she saw me come in, she glanced at me lightly, the corners of her mouth curving slightly. Sebastian Grant pulled me down to sit and personally poured me a glass of juice. “Sweetheart, you just got discharged, so you can’t drink. Have juice today.” I didn’t think much of it. I took it and began drinking. The dinner was lively, with glasses clinking all around. Halfway through the meal, I got up to go to the restroom. As I walked down the hallway, my head began to feel heavy. My vision was a little blurry, and my legs were going weak. I leaned against the wall for a while, cold sweat breaking out on my forehead. Something was wrong. A hand suddenly covered my mouth. Someone dragged me from behind into the private room next door. The private room door was locked from the inside. A greasy middle-aged man shoved me onto the sofa, letting out a disgusting laugh. “Pretty little thing, you’re mine now.” I retreated in terror, but the man lunged at me like a starving wolf. I struggled desperately, but my whole body was weak, and I had no strength in my arms. Not to mention, the other party was a grown man. The difference in strength was too great. The man tore my clothes apart. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” “Pretty little thing, someone gave you to me. Just accept it.” A wave of nausea hit me. My stomach churned violently, and I almost threw up. “Help! Is anyone there? Help me!” I shouted in despair until my voice turned hoarse. “Sebastian Grant!” But no one answered. The man’s hand clamped around my neck. My vision began to blur, and all that remained in my ears was his vicious laughter and panting. I remembered that stormy night five years ago and closed my eyes in despair. How had I forgotten? Last time, Sebastian Grant had been the one who arranged those thugs in the first place, then personally came to play the hero and save the damsel in distress. How could he possibly come save me? And this time, who had arranged it? I closed my eyes in despair. The private room door was kicked open. Sebastian Grant rushed in like an asura from hell, his eyes full of violence. He grabbed the greasy man by the collar, yanked him off me, and threw him onto the floor. His fist slammed into that greasy face. The man screamed twice and collapsed to the ground. But Sebastian Grant did not stop. His fists rained down on the man. His knuckles were covered in blood. I couldn’t tell whether it was his or the man’s. Not until that man had completely passed out and gone still. Joe Harris and Daniel Carter rushed to the doorway. They were stunned by the scene before them, and neither dared to step forward and pull him away. I curled up in the corner of the sofa, trembling all over. My vision went dark, and I lost consciousness. Chapter 6 Jane Winters POV When I woke again, I found myself lying in the bed at home. Sebastian Grant was not in the room. From the living room came the sound of him on a phone call. Through the door, I couldn’t hear what he was saying. I opened the computer. Sebastian Grant’s Instagram was still logged in. I clicked into that group chat and scrolled to their conversations from the past two days. Two days ago, which was the day I was hit by the crystal chandelier at the bridal boutique. Sebastian Grant: [Melissa, you went too far. If the crystal chandelier had hit Jane Winters’s face, the wedding wouldn’t be able to happen.] Melissa Stone: [Who told her to take my wedding dress? I just taught her a lesson!] Sebastian Grant: [She’s only wearing it temporarily. It’ll be yours sooner or later.] During the two days I was hospitalized, Joe Harris called for him in the group several times: [Sebastian, come out for a drink? Stop guarding her. No need to bother with her anymore, right?] Daniel Carter also joined in the teasing: [Sebastian, you’re way too dedicated. You don’t have to go this hard for an act, do you?] Sebastian Grant did not reply to any of it. Melissa Stone couldn’t sit still anymore and questioned him directly: [Are you actually in love with Jane Winters?] Joe Harris reminded him: [Yeah, Sebastian. She liked Adrian Cole for seven years. She was Adrian Cole’s simp.] Daniel Carter echoed: [Who knows what she and Adrian Cole have done together? Sebastian, don’t lose your head.] Someone else said: [Sebastian, we’ve spent so many years preparing this plan. There are only a few days left. We can’t fail at the last step.] After a long time, Sebastian Grant replied with two words: [I won’t.] Melissa Stone refused to let it go: [Then call Jane Winters to the private club and drug her yourself. I’ll get someone to sleep with her. Then I’ll believe you!] So that was it. The crystal chandelier had been premeditated by Melissa Stone. The so-called celebration of my recovery had all been a cover. Sebastian Grant and the others had planned to hurt me! There had been something in the glass of juice Sebastian Grant handed me, and he had put it there with his own hands. That greasy man had been found by Melissa Stone. Sebastian Grant knew the whole time and cooperated with it. A new message popped up. It was a voice message Melissa Stone had just sent. Melissa Stone was crying so hard she could barely breathe: [Sebastian, why did you save her? Did you really fall for her? Do you not love me anymore?] After a while, Sebastian Grant replied: [Melissa, don’t overthink it. If something happened to her this time, what would we do if the wedding couldn’t go on? Once the wedding is over, you can play with her however you want, okay?] I let out a miserable laugh. The fury in my heart was beyond words. I forced myself to stand, walked into the walk-in closet, and began packing my things. Over the past five years, Sebastian Grant had given me countless things. Limited edition bags, full sets of jewelry, the latest top-tier haute couture clothes. Once, all of these had been proof that he loved me. Now, I tossed these priceless things into cardboard boxes like I was throwing away garbage. Sebastian Grant heard the noise and pushed the door open. “Sweetheart, you just woke up. What are you busy with?” He looked at the closet that was already more than half empty, his handsome brows drawing together. The empty room seemed to make him uncomfortable. “When we move into the marital home in a few days, we’ll have to bring all these things over anyway. I might as well pack early.” I didn’t lift my head. I answered in a normal tone while continuing to put things into the boxes. Sebastian Grant’s brows relaxed, and a smile appeared in his eyes. He was very satisfied with my answer, thinking I was preparing for their future married life. “Don’t wear yourself out.” He walked over and pulled me up. “I’ll have someone clean all this up. You just woke up, so rest properly and focus on being my bride.” I nodded. Perfect. I really didn’t want to touch any of it anyway. Sebastian Grant gave the servants a few instructions, changed into another jacket, and left. He was probably going to coax his little childhood sweetheart. The servants worked quickly. In less than an hour, they had packed everything into boxes. I called a secondhand luxury goods buyer. It was rare for them to run into such a major client, so they brought an appraiser straight to the door. Wearing gloves, the appraiser examined each item one by one, shaking his head as he looked. “These are all brand-new. Some styles are even sold out at the boutiques. Are you sure you want to sell them all?” “All of them. Cash payment.” In less than two hours, all the boxes were loaded into the buyer’s truck. My phone received a text notification from the bank confirming the deposit. The number was long enough to keep me fed and clothed for the rest of my life. I deleted the message, opened a ticket-booking app, and booked a flight for the day of the wedding.

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My other failed attempt at sex ended in absolute disaster. Julian completely lost his mind. He grabbed the bedside lamp and slammed it violently at me. A sharp shard of glass sliced across my forehead, and warm blood began to trickle down my cheek. Meanwhile, he curled up in the corner of the room, clutching his head in agony, whimpering over and over again: “I’m sorry… Vivian, I didn’t mean to. I’m so sorry.” Three years ago, during that horrific house fire, he had pulled me out of the flames. In doing so, his lower body was severely burned. The doctors told us he would never be able to perform as a normal man again. Since then, every failed attempt at intimacy became a trigger that sent him into a violent spiral of rage and self-loathing. I thought this was a psychological trauma he just couldn’t overcome. So, no matter how many times he ended up putting me in the hospital, I never blamed him. I even begged my father to give him an executive position in our family company. I showered him with shares, luxury apartments, and supercars, doing everything in my power to make up for what I felt I owed him. Until tonight, when I went to pick him up from a club because he was wasted. Outside the VIP lounge, I heard a voice laughing from inside: “Yo, Julian, I thought you were impotent? How did you manage to keep your cute little secretary in bed for three days straight?” Julian let out a lazy, arrogant chuckle. “I lied to Vivian, obviously.” “A simple lie, and she’s been so consumed by guilt that she’d give me anything. I’ve practically beaten her half to death, yet she’s still too guilty to divorce me. She’s even planning to sign over her family inheritance to me.”

“Julian, babe, let me go. What if your old lady shows up and catches us? She’ll kill me.” The girl speaking was his secretary, Chloe. She was twenty-two, a fresh college graduate—young, soft, and pretty. As she spoke, she snuggled deeper into Julian’s chest. The lounge erupted in dirty jokes and cheers. Amused by her clingy act, Julian pinched her cheek affectionately. “Are you really that scared of her?” “Don’t worry. With me here, nobody touches you.” “Besides, once I get my hands on her family’s company, I’m divorcing her anyway.” Chloe sniffled, putting on a victim act. “Last week, I just made Vivian a cup of coffee, and she poured the whole scalding mug over me in front of everyone, accusing me of trying to hurt her.” She was talking about last week, when I had a severe allergic reaction and went into anaphylactic shock because she secretly put dairy milk in my coffee. I almost choked to death on my own swollen throat in the ER. At the time, Julian rushed to the hospital and screamed at her. When he threatened to fire her, I was actually the one who begged him to let her keep her job. But now, the man’s eyes darkened with lust as he gently wiped away her fake tears. “Don’t worry. She already drank the wine spiked with the aphrodisiac tonight. In a bit, we’ll watch her writhe in desperate heat while we completely ignore her. Let’s consider that payback for you, okay?” Chloe’s eyes lit up, but she quickly feigned worry, tugging at his arm. “But what if she finds out? What if she makes a scene?” “Find out?” Julian’s scoff pierced through the loud bass of the music, stabbing straight into my ears. “I slip drugs into her warm milk every single night before bed, and she hasn’t suspected a thing. She actually thinks she’s just having a severe hormonal imbalance.” “Last night, she was crying in my arms, telling me she couldn’t control her physical desires anymore but was terrified of triggering my PTSD from the burns. She was literally shaking with guilt.” He paused, his voice dripping with amusement. “Honestly, watching her play the tragic, guilty wife is the funniest thing ever.” I froze outside the door. My blood turned to ice, coldness sweeping from my toes straight to the crown of my head. All those agonizing, shameful nights where I was tormented by unnatural heat. All those times I locked myself in the bathroom, sobbing under a freezing shower to wash away my desperate, uncontrollable physical urges. It was all him. He was gaslighting me. He knew exactly how guilty I felt after the accident, and how terrified I was that my sexual needs would hurt his fragile ego. Even tonight, I was on antibiotics and told him I couldn’t drink alcohol. But he just said, “Vivian, it’s Chloe’s birthday. Don’t be a party pooper.” Because I didn’t want to upset him, I drank it. Now, my stomach was churning violently. I bit my lip so hard it bled, running straight to the hallway restroom before I let out a gut-wrenching sob. I cried until my eyes ran dry, my heart shattered into a million jagged pieces. Suddenly, my phone buzzed with a custom ringtone. I picked up. Julian’s deep, soothing voice came through: “Viv, aren’t you back yet?” I took a few deep breaths to steady my voice. “Almost there.” “Have you been crying?” He was always incredibly sharp at reading my emotions. But the attention that used to make my heart flutter now felt like a cold blade twisting in my chest. “No.” Through blurry eyes, I stared at my reflection, remembering our years together. Since his discharge from the hospital, we had slept in separate rooms. Even at my most miserable moments, I only blamed myself for not being able to save him from the fire. Once, when he was drunk and about to fall, I tried to catch him, only for him to fly into a rage and throw a heavy glass bottle that left a permanent scar on my shoulder. Even then, my guilt only made me want to give him more. I begged my father to bring him into our company, giving him stocks, properties, and luxury cars. I turned a broke college student into the powerful CEO he was today. My best friend had warned me: “Vivian, you need to watch out. Men change when they get money. A guy in Julian’s position will have young girls throwing themselves at him left and right.” Back then, I had replied with absolute confidence: “He would never betray me.” I had given Julian my unconditional, blind trust. Yet, the girl he cheated on me with was the very secretary I had personally hired for him. They met because of me. And now, they were treating me like a brainless clown in my own company. I let the freezing tap water run over my hands. The biting cold was a harsh reminder that everything I believed in was a lie.

Taking one last deep breath, I pushed open the door to the VIP lounge. The loud laughter died down instantly. Chloe was sitting on Julian’s lap, the two of them locked in a passionate kiss. Julian slowly pulled away from her, spitting an ice cube into a glass. There wasn’t a single shred of guilt or panic in his eyes. He slid a slip of paper toward me on the table, offering a casual explanation: “We were playing Truth or Dare and I lost. You weren’t here, so I called you. But even if you were here, I can’t have physical contact with you without triggering my anxiety, so Chloe had to step in and help me complete the dare.” Everyone’s eyes locked onto me. Some were curious; others were dripping with mockery. I smoothed out the crumpled paper and read the messy handwriting: [Pass an ice cube using only your mouth to any member of the opposite sex in the room for one full minute.] My eyes stung, the words blurring together. I looked up at the stranger standing in front of me. He had the perfect excuse and the perfect prop. I couldn’t even find a logical reason to scream at him. But I knew we needed to get out of this loud, toxic room to talk. “I don’t feel well,” I said softly. “I want to go home.” In the past, no matter how important the event was, the moment I said those words, he would immediately stand up and leave with me. But this time, he simply turned and pointed at a bucket overflowing with ice cubes nearby. “Your face was really flushed when you were drinking earlier. I had the waiter bring this ice bucket.” “If you’re feeling too hot, just dump some ice water over your head to cool down.” My throat felt incredibly tight. I didn’t move. “I’m on antibiotics and I have a cold. I can’t do ice water.” “Just take me home, Julian.” The unnatural heat in my body was spreading, making my eyes well up with tears. “Please, Julian,” I whispered, practically begging. Our eyes locked. For a split second, a flash of surprise and hesitation crossed his face. We had been together for years. Even when he accidentally threw things at me and left me bleeding, I had never shown this kind of vulnerability in front of his friends. His hand, which was playing with a lighter, paused. But Chloe quickly cut in. “Vivian, are you still mad at me about the allergy incident? Fine, I’ll drink this whole bottle of whiskey to make it up to you.” She reached for a bottle of Macallan. It was newly opened. Julian immediately grabbed her wrist, stopping her, before turning a cold, accusing glare on me. “Vivian, stop throwing a jealous tantrum here.” “It’s Chloe’s birthday. She hasn’t even blown out her candles yet. Don’t ruin her night.” I stood frozen, watching him reach out to gently ruffle Chloe’s hair. “Don’t worry about her,” he murmured to Chloe. “She’s just not feeling well. She’s not targeting you.” Chloe instantly beamed, her tears vanishing. She wrapped her arms around Julian’s sleeve, looking up at him with adoration. “Julian, you’re the best.” Then, she shot me a smug, triumphant look from under her lashes. The atmosphere in the lounge bounced back to life. A waiter wheeled in a massive birthday cake. Everyone started singing the birthday song. Julian stood right next to Chloe, a warm smile playing on his lips. I shrank back into the shadows of the corner sofa, my body burning up from the drug. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Across the room, Julian was looking down at Chloe as she made a wish, his gaze filled with a tenderness he hadn’t shown me in years. The moment she blew out the candles, he reached out, scooped some frosting, and playfully smudged it on the tip of her nose. “Julian! How could you! You ruined my makeup!” The girl squealed, laughing as she scooped up a handful of frosting and smeared it across his cheek. They laughed and flirted, looking exactly like a deeply in-love, normal couple. And I was just a useless spectator sitting in the dark. Watching the man I loved with all my heart cherish another woman. Julian seemed to feel my gaze, occasionally casting a brief, scanning glance toward my corner.

Chloe started cutting and handing out the cake. When the last plate was gone, she turned to me with a look of fake horror. “Oh my gosh, Vivian, I’m so sorry! I didn’t order a big enough cake. We ran out.” She wrung her hands, biting her lip. “I… I can give you my slice if you want.” But Julian grabbed her wrist, answering on my behalf. “No need. You’re the birthday girl, why should you give yours up?” “Besides, Vivian doesn’t even like sweet things.” During our first year together, Julian had spent hours making a mango cake for me. I couldn’t eat it because of my severe mango allergy, so he simply assumed I hated sweets altogether. Back then, I was so touched by his effort that I didn’t care. Only now did I realize that in all these years, he had never bothered to actually learn my preferences. Amidst the noise, a hand with clean, well-defined fingers suddenly offered me a plate of cake. The cake had been carefully cleaned; every single piece of mango had been meticulously picked off. “You drank on an empty stomach. Eat some of this to coat your stomach.” I looked up. It was Liam—Julian’s best friend. As I took the plate, I suddenly grabbed Liam’s collar and pulled him down toward me. One of the guys in the room noticed and hollered, “Hey, Julian, looks like the drug is hitting your wife. She’s mistaking Liam for you!” The entire room quieted down, everyone’s eyes darting between me and Liam. Julian didn’t even stand up. He just kept pouring himself shot after shot. He cast a lazy glance at us, completely unfazed. “She’s just out of it. She’ll realize it’s not me in a second and push him away.” “Trust me, Vivian hasn’t let another man touch her in years. But since I can’t touch her either, watch how well she tries to hold herself back. It’s actually pretty entertaining.” Now that I was drugged and “out of it,” Julian didn’t even bother to hide his malice anymore. The heat in my body clashed with a sudden, roaring wave of fury. I stopped fighting the urge. I leaned up and pressed my lips firmly against Liam’s. Time seemed to stop. The teasing and whispering in the lounge died instantly. The silence was deafening. Just as my breathing started to turn shallow and heavy, a loud crash shattered the quiet. I pulled back. Julian had swept an entire tray of glasses onto the floor. Before I could even process what was happening, Julian yanked me out of Liam’s reach and pulled me into his arms. His usually cold, distant eyes were now burning with a mixture of rage and hurt. For a split second, I was transported back to when we were teenagers. That was the exact jealous, possessive face he made when he saw other boys writing me love letters. Back then, he quit his beloved basketball team just so he could ride his bike and escort me home every single day after school. “Vivian, I hate seeing you with other guys,” he had whispered into the evening wind back then. I thought I understood him. Because of his rough childhood, he was always insecure, craving love and validation. So, when he told me he was impotent after the fire, I made sure to come home early every day. I cut off all male friends. I even let him check my phone whenever he wanted, just to give him a sense of security. Now, Julian’s raspy, dark voice vibrated in my ear. “Vivian, where are your suppressants?” He was talking about the pills he usually forced me to take to “control my hormonal issues.” “I’m not taking them today,” I whispered, pushing against his chest. “They’re bad for my health.” I forcefully wrenched myself out of his grip, stepping back. “Besides, you said physical contact with me triggers your panic attacks. You should stay away from me.” He froze. I blinked back the hot tears stinging my eyes. “You said you couldn’t touch me. But you seem perfectly fine now. Are you cured?” “I… I think my body is finally starting to accept you again,” he stammered, looking flustered. “Let’s just go home. I’ll take care of you.” He grabbed his coat and tried to drape it over my shoulders, pulling me toward the exit. “Julian…” Behind us, Chloe suddenly whimpered, clutching her lower stomach. Her face was deathly pale. “My stomach hurts so bad… I think the cold alcohol triggered my cramps. It hurts…” Julian stopped dead in his tracks. He looked at me, then looked back at Chloe. If this were yesterday, I would have been 100% confident that I was his priority. But now, my heart just felt heavy and hollow. I was drugged and weak. Chloe was having cramps. In the end, he turned around and rushed to support Chloe. The girl leaned heavily into his chest, looking at me with a pitiful, apologetic expression. “Vivian, there’s nothing going on between Julian and me. Please don’t kiss other guys just to make him mad.” “Besides, Liam was probably just too polite to reject you. He’d never actually touch you.” “Julian, go take care of Vivian. Don’t worry about me.” She coughed weakly. Julian tightened his grip around her waist, rubbing his neck uncomfortably. “Vivian, Chloe’s cramps get really dangerous. I have to take her to the hospital first.” “If you don’t want to use ice water, just take some of your meds. You’ll get through it once the peak passes.” My tears finally spilled over. Meeting my gaze, he looked away guiltily, adding, “I’ll come back for you as soon as I drop her off. I know you’re not the type to get petty over this.” I gripped the edge of the sofa, my nails nearly tearing the fabric. I looked at him and said, very calmly, “Don’t bother. Let’s get a divorce.” But when I looked up, all I saw was his hurried back as he carried Chloe out of the door. He ran so fast. Fast enough that he didn’t even hear what I said.

With their departure, the party quickly dispersed. I collapsed onto the sofa, my body curling into a tight ball as the drug ran rampant through my veins. As my consciousness started to slip, a pair of warm, strong arms wrapped around my waist. Liam lifted me effortlessly. The slight cool touch of his shirt made me crave more. The car sped through the night, eventually pulling up to my driveway. Inside the house, Liam immediately turned to search the cabinets. “I’ll find your medication.” I grabbed his hand and pinned him against the front door. Our noses brushed, our hot breaths mingling in the dark. “I don’t want meds,” I whispered. “I want you.” The hand resting on my waist stiffened. After a long, agonizing pause, his fingers slid under the hem of my dress, tracing my spine upward. The sheer heat of his touch made me shiver. Just before we crossed the line, my phone started ringing off the hook. Julian’s messages began flooding the screen one after another. [Where are you?] [Vivian, did you lock yourself in the bathroom with cold water again?] [The doctor said my condition is improving. I can force myself to hold you tonight if you need me to.] Reading his charity-like tone, I let out a mocking laugh and wrapped my arms tighter around the man in front of me. The phone kept ringing, incredibly annoying. I shut it off completely and threw it onto the rug. Liam paused, his chest heaving as he stared down at me. “He doesn’t deserve you, Vivian. Leave him.” Before I could answer, he leaned down and captured my lips. “Actually, even if you’re just using me to get back at him… I don’t care.” That night, the marriage bed I had shared with Julian creaked under a different weight for a very long time. By the time I was completely exhausted, I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. The next morning, I was violently shaken awake by a heavy, aggressive banging on the front door. “Vivian! Open the door! You ran home and turned off your phone? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for you?” “Open up! I’m here to help you get through the after-effects!” Julian’s breathless, angry voice echoed through the door. As I tried to sit up, a strong, heavy hand clamped around my waist, pulling me back down. “Don’t go,” Liam murmured, biting my earlobe softly. I gently pushed him away and slipped into a silk robe. “I have to. I need to end this once and for all.” I opened the front door. Julian’s eyes swept over me. Then, his gaze locked onto the dark, unmistakable bite marks and bruises clustering around my collarbone. Shock and explosive rage washed over his face, shattering his usual cold, arrogant composure. “What the hell is that?” I looked down at my chest casually. “I got bitten.” Julian pushed past me, balling his fists as he stormed into the bedroom—only to come face-to-face with Liam, who was walking out of the master bathroom with a towel around his waist. “What the hell did you two do behind my back?!” Julian roared. Looking at his trembling, furious face, I said nonchalantly: “Exactly what you and Chloe do when you think I’m not looking.”

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We met when we were five, and we had our mate ceremony at twenty-five. Damian guarded me for twenty long years. Even though my inner wolf had never awakened, he still claimed me as his only Luna. Everyone in the Frostveil Pack said I was his entire world. Until I discovered the devastating truth—my inner wolf finally woke up, and the very first thing she smelled on Isabella was Damian’s scent. A scent that meant Damian had marked her. So, the reason he refused to mark me for the past seven years wasn’t “for my own good” like he had always claimed. And the ultimate irony? When I was miscarrying our babies, he was in Isabella’s bed. He even pointed a finger at me, accusing me of framing his precious Isabella: “Evelyn, how did you become so malicious?” I just laughed. He asked me why I didn’t explain, why I didn’t fight back, why I didn’t beg for mercy. Explain what? Explain how the twins in my womb were literally killed by the sheer heartbreak he caused? Or explain that Isabella, the girl playing weak and innocent by his side, was never his fated mate to begin with? I didn’t say a single word. I simply vanished from his world, erasing myself as cleanly as if he had never loved me. But Damian, why are you searching the entire world like a madman now that I’m gone?

Evelyn POV Everyone believed I was the center of Damian’s universe. He had protected me for twenty years. From a reckless teenager to the powerful Alpha of the Frostveil Pack, he would have burned down half the city if I so much as frowned. But that very same Damian had spent the last seven years weaving a web of lies that completely ruined my life. … I was born in the Moonclaw Pack. My parents died when I was young, and I was raised by my grandfather, the Alpha. I was supposed to be the next in line, but my inner wolf never showed up. After my grandfather passed away, I willingly gave up my right to lead. I handed the Moonclaw Pack over to Oliver, our loyal Beta. Then, I left the pack territory. I went to a university in the city, studied fashion, and eventually followed my dream of becoming a bridal designer. Using the inheritance my grandfather left me, I opened a boutique bridal shop. Damian and I grew up together. When I turned eighteen, he swore to the Heavens that I was his fated mate. But then he told me that because my inner wolf hadn’t awakened, marking me would cause physical damage to my body. I had never heard of such a rule, but I trusted him blindly. Until recently, when my werewolf strength finally began to bleed into my veins. Today, I was planning to buy a cake to celebrate the fact that Damian and I were going to have our first son. But instead, I ran into Isabella. And I smelled Damian’s scent all over her. It was the unmistakable, deep scent of an Alpha’s mark. My fingertips turned ice-cold instantly, and my head started spinning. Isabella was the daughter of a maid from my old Moonclaw Pack. She was always the quiet, timid girl who kept her head down and spoke in whispers. When I was eighteen, she told me she wanted to leave the pack to live in the city, and I even gave her a large sum of money to help her start over. To think she had been with Damian this entire time. I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached so badly that my vision blurred. From knowing him at five to becoming his Luna at twenty-five, Damian was my religion. I loved him to my bones. I trusted him more than I trusted myself. I never tracked his location or questioned his whereabouts, because the security he gave me once made me feel invincible. But reality just slapped me right across the face. I didn’t storm over to confront them. Instead, I quietly walked back to my car. I even forgot the cake I was supposed to buy. I started the engine and drove aimlessly into the city traffic. The bright sunlight streamed through the windshield, but it couldn’t melt the freezing cold in my heart. My phone screen lit up. It was a text from Damian, written in his usual demanding tone: [I bought that blue diamond you liked at the auction today. Wash up and wait for me in bed tonight.] A rare blue diamond had gone up for auction in London recently. Damian once told me that the blue color looked exactly like my eyes, and that only I deserved to wear it. I stared at the screen, feeling nothing but disgust. Before I knew it, I had parked my car near the entrance of a private marina. Through the iron gates, I spotted a familiar yacht. It was the yacht Damian had gifted me for my twentieth birthday. There he was, standing on the deck, holding another woman in his arms. The woman was wearing a white sundress, her long hair blowing in the wind. It was Isabella. On the table in front of them sat the small cake Isabella had just bought. Isabella scooped up a bite of cake and fed it to Damian. He smiled and took it. In the next second, Damian cupped the back of her neck and pulled her into a passionate kiss. The cheers of the guests on board were carried away by the ocean breeze, sounding distant and muffled. Memories of our past flashed through my mind like a cruel movie. At eighteen, when my grandfather died and my wolf still hadn’t emerged, Damian held me at the funeral. He swore he would protect me forever. For him, I turned down an offer from the top design school in Paris and stayed at a local college. At twenty, when a star player on the college football team sent me roses, Damian beat him so badly the guy ended up in the hospital with multiple fractures. He then filled my entire car with thousands of red roses, declaring possessively in front of the whole campus: “Evelyn is mine. Anyone who touches her dies.” At twenty-two, when the pack elders pressured him to find a capable Luna who actually had a wolf, he proudly announced to the entire pack that I was the only Luna the Frostveil Pack would ever have. Once, I thought those were proofs of his deep, burning love for me. Now, those sacred vows felt like nothing but a sick joke. I laughed until tears streamed down my face, my entire body shaking. Twenty-five years. I had spent my entire life loving a man, only to realize I was the only one moved by it. If that was the case, then this man who occupied my entire existence needed to be ripped out of my life. I wiped my tears, bypassed our house, and went straight to Oliver. “Oliver,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Do you want to become stronger?” Oliver blinked, completely caught off guard. “I want to ruin Damian,” I said. “I might not be your fated mate, but I carry the Alpha bloodline. If you mark me, your power will multiply. The Frostveil Pack has been taking over our territory since my grandfather died. I want you to take it all back. Actually, I want the Frostveil Pack to vanish completely.” Oliver stared at me for a very long time. I thought he was hesitating because of the consequences. “You don’t have to worry. My wolf is finally waking up. And I won’t cling to you. If you want to reject me afterward, you can do it whenever—” Before I could finish, he looked into my eyes and said, “Okay.”

Evelyn POV When I got back to the villa, Damian was already waiting. He was sitting on the sofa, his dark eyes drilling into me like ice picks. “Where have you been all afternoon?” He couldn’t reach me for hours, and his patience had clearly run out. I looked at him, but all I could see was the image of him kissing Isabella on the yacht. “Why aren’t you talking?” Seeing my silence, Damian stood up and stepped closer. He wrapped his long arm around my waist, pulling me flush against him. “Do you want me to punish you again?” At the word “punish,” my body went stiff. I remembered when I was twenty. We had a huge fight, and I ran off to go surfing at the beach to blow off steam. Damian went absolutely crazy. He deployed the entire pack guard to search the city. When he found me, he locked me in our beach house for two full months. It wasn’t until I cried and begged, swearing I would never disappear again, that he finally let me go with bloodshot eyes. I was afraid of him. I was terrified of his suffocating, obsessive control. Right now, I couldn’t let him notice anything. I couldn’t let him know I was planning to run. “I…” I clenched my fists, forcing myself to calm down. My voice shook slightly. “I went to the hospital… to ask the doctor about some tests.” I couldn’t tell him I was pregnant. I was already three months along. Sure enough, Damian’s expression softened, and the grip on my waist loosened. He assumed I had gone behind his back to do those painful fertility treatments again. Immediately, a look of deep pain and guilt washed over his face. He leaned down and kissed my forehead, his voice deep and raspy. “Didn’t I tell you not to go anymore? I told you, having you is enough for me. I don’t want to see you suffer through those painful procedures.” If this were yesterday, I would have been deeply moved by his words. Today, it just made me sick. Damian’s phone rang. He answered it, muttered a few quick words, and hurriedly left the house. Half an hour after he left, my phone buzzed. An unknown number sent me an audio file. I tapped play. Damian’s familiar voice, mixed with the clinking of glasses, filled the quiet room. “…Isabella is four months pregnant. I have to give her a proper title.” His friend’s shocked voice followed. “What about the girl at your house? I thought you loved Evelyn to death.” “Evelyn can’t conceive,” Damian’s voice sounded incredibly tired. “But the Elder Alpha insists that the Frostveil Pack needs a pureblood heir.” My face drained of all color. In the recording, his friend sighed. “The Elder Alpha’s control is getting out of hand. If he hadn’t forbidden you from marking Evelyn back then, and literally forced you to feed her those wolfsbane suppressants to prevent her from conceiving, you wouldn’t be in this mess right now.” Wolfsbane suppressants… It felt like a lightning bolt struck me. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I remembered seven years ago, the morning after the Luna Gala. Damian had handed me a cup of herbal tea with a strange, bitter smell. He told me it was a special blend to help with my weak constitution. So, from the very beginning, he had been poisoning me. From our very first night. At the end of the recording, Damian murmured, “I love Evelyn. That will never change. We grew up together, and she’s perfect as a Luna. But Isabella… she’s my fated mate. When I’m with her, I feel a passion I’ve never felt before.” His friend snorted, hitting the nail on the head. “You’re just greedy. You want a passionate mistress, but you also want a quiet, obedient Luna to keep your house.” The recording cut off. My knees buckled, and I slid down to the cold floor, clutching my phone. He loved me? He loved me with a fake mate bond and a lifetime of poison?

Evelyn POV I wiped the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. Crying was useless. But right then, a sharp, stabbing pain bloomed in my lower abdomen. It felt like a hot blade was twisting inside me. The pain didn’t fade. Instead, it grew worse by the second, and cold sweat instantly drenched my back. With shaking fingers, I dialed Dr. Hale’s number. Marcus was my closest human friend. He was a doctor, and he was one of the few humans who knew about the werewolf world. I couldn’t go to the pack doctor. If I did, Damian would find out immediately. “Marcus, my stomach hurts so badly…” My voice cracked with pure terror. “Please save my babies. Help me save them.” Marcus’s panicked voice came through the speaker. “Don’t panic! Get to the clinic right now. I’m clearing my schedule!” Half an hour later, I arrived at the private clinic alone. The pain was so intense that my face was completely pale. I wore a large trench coat, sunglasses, and a hat, leaning heavily against the wall just to take a step. But as I rounded the corner of the VIP corridor to take a shortcut to Marcus’s office, I ran straight into the last person I wanted to see. Damian. He was carefully shielding Isabella, his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, keeping the passing nurses from bumping into her. He looked so protective, exactly the way he used to look when he shielded me. The sheer irony of the scene made the pain in my stomach explode. I froze, clutching my abdomen, watching them walk past me just a few yards away. “I’m sorry. If it weren’t for keeping this from Evelyn, I would have had the pack healer look at you,” Damian murmured, his voice dripping with worry. Isabella leaned against his chest, her voice sweet and submissive. “It’s okay, Damian. I’m just an unranked wolf. To be able to carry your child is more than enough for me.” Damian’s eyes softened even more. He kissed the top of her head. “You are always so understanding.” He paused, his tone turning slightly annoyed. “Unlike Evelyn. She always demands this and that. I wish she were even half as mature as you.” Right. I was the demanding one. In that moment, I felt a rush of warm liquid escaping my body. Then I heard him say, “That blue diamond from the auction—once I get it, I’ll have it set into a ring for you. Consider it my gift to you.” So, the blue diamond that allegedly looked like my eyes was actually meant for her. “Oh,” Isabella suddenly said, “does Evelyn like the brooch you gave her last time? I spent a lot of time picking it out. I hope she can be nice to my baby for my sake.” Their baby? I heard Damian’s low chuckle. “Silly girl. Of course she likes it. I already told her that once you give birth, we will take the baby and raise it as our own. That’s the only way our child can legally inherit the pack. Don’t worry, she will respect you as the child’s biological mother.” So, under the assumption that I was barren, he had already planned my entire future. He wanted me to raise his bastard child with another woman. No, they were the true mates. I was just the outsider occupying the Luna seat. A wave of fury and grief crashed over me. The pain in my abdomen reached its peak, and my legs gave out. I couldn’t listen anymore. I turned around, trying to drag myself to Dr. Hale’s emergency room. Just as I took a few steps, my phone rang. It was Damian. “Where are you, babe? I got breakfast and roses ready for you, but you’re not home,” his voice was warm, like he was coaxing a toddler. I leaned against the freezing wall, feeling the life draining out of me. “Are you overthinking again?” he said softly. “Don’t worry. If you really want a child, we can adopt one in a few months. I’ll make sure you get to be a mother, okay?” Adopt one? While my own children’s lives were slipping away, he was talking to me about adoption? “No need…” I spoke into the phone, my voice so weak it sounded like a whisper from the grave. “The babies… are already gone.” The phone slipped from my hand and shattered on the floor. Before darkness swallowed me, I saw a bright, terrifying pool of red spreading across the white tiles. Damian, you killed our babies. You did this.

Evelyn POV When I woke up, the surgery was already over. Marcus stood by my bed, holding a medical chart, his eyes filled with sorrow. “Evelyn, I’m so sorry… You were hemorrhaging when you got here. We did some tests, and it looks like a combination of severe emotional shock and a chemical rejection in your body. We tried our best, but we couldn’t save them.” I stared at the ceiling, tears silent as they soaked into my hair. There was no screaming. Just a hollow, empty silence. “It’s not your fault, Marcus,” I whispered. “He killed them before they even had a chance.” He had killed our past, and now he had killed our future. With the last physical connection to him severed, Damian and I were finally done. Marcus paused, lowering his voice. “I suggest you go back to your pack and have a trusted healer look at you. Your body… it’s healing at an abnormal speed. Luckily, I was the lead surgeon, so no one else noticed.” I nodded. Placing a hand on my stomach, I could indeed feel a warm, strange current flowing through my icy veins. “My wolf,” I whispered. “She’s waking up.” Marcus’s eyes lit up. “That’s amazing!” I gave him a weak smile, but shook my head. He didn’t know that even if my power fully returned, I had no intention of staying here. Despite my weakness, I couldn’t bear to lie in that bed for another second. The phone on the nightstand buzzed. It was an image and a location pin from an unknown number. The image was of a wedding dress I had designed myself. It was my proudest creation. The location pin was for the most luxurious bridal boutique in New York. A boutique that I owned. I ripped the IV out of my hand, ignoring Marcus’s protests. I changed into my clothes and took a cab to the boutique. The cab pulled up across the street from the shop. I sat in the backseat, feeling that unfamiliar power coursing through my body. She was repairing me. My wolf. In my darkest hour, she had finally come to save me. But it was too late to save my babies. Through the large glass windows of the boutique, I immediately spotted Damian and Isabella. He was holding her, his eyes filled with adoration. “I can’t give you a public ceremony yet, but I still want to see you in the most beautiful wedding dress in the world.” Just then, several luxury sports cars pulled up in front of the store. The doors opened, and a group of familiar faces stepped out. Kael Blackwood and several others. They were all our mutual friends, people who had witnessed my twenty-five-year relationship with Damian. I rolled down my window slightly, and their voices drifted across the street. “Is Damian really doing this for Isabella? Isn’t he worried Evelyn will find out?” “Why would he worry? He never marked Evelyn anyway, so she won’t feel a thing. Besides, the girl has an heir in her belly right now. Keeping her happy is the priority.” So, everyone knew. I was the only fool kept in the dark by the entire world. I had just lost my babies, and here they were, celebrating the upcoming birth of another. My hands shook with rage. The hatred inside me was the only thing keeping me upright. Using my master key, I slipped into the boutique through the back door and went straight to the third-floor VIP balcony. I stood in the shadows, looking down coldly at the pathetic farce below. Damian was dressed in a tailored tuxedo, and Isabella was wearing that dress. The dress I had spent countless sleepless nights designing to commemorate my first kiss with Damian. Now, another woman was wearing it, receiving blessings from my friends. “Put the ring on! Put the ring on!” The crowd cheered, and Kael whistled. Damian pulled out a midnight-blue velvet box and dropped to one knee. From my high vantage point, I could see it clearly. Inside was a custom Cartier ring set, identical to the ones we had chosen years ago. Even the sacred symbol of commitment wasn’t unique. Just as Damian was about to slip the ring onto Isabella’s finger— I pulled the master power switch. The entire boutique plunged into pitch-black darkness. Then, I pressed the remote control in my hand. A single, powerful spotlight beamed down from the ceiling, shining directly on me on the third-floor balcony.

Evelyn POV The guests froze, their glasses suspended in mid-air. The smile on Isabella’s face shattered. “Ev… Evelyn?” Damian’s face drained of color. He looked terrified. He instinctively pushed Isabella away, ran up the stairs to the third floor, and threw his arms around me. “Let me explain!” he stammered, his voice trembling. “This is just a rehearsal! I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary!” He fumbled in his pocket, pulled out the ring, and tried to force it onto my finger. But the size was wrong. It got stuck painfully at my knuckle. “Isabella!” Damian screamed down the stairs, not even looking back. “Tell Evelyn the truth!” Isabella’s eyes welled with tears, her voice dripping with submission. “Evelyn, it’s true. Damian planned this surprise for you. I was just helping him rehearse.” Damian clung to her words like a drowning man, tightening his grip on me. “Evelyn, you are the only one I’ve ever loved. How could I ever betray you…” What a disgusting hypocrite. Isabella sniffled, her voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “I wish Damian and Evelyn a lifetime of happiness. I hope you guys have your own baby soon.” Their own baby… A wave of pain shot through my abdomen. Isabella couldn’t keep up the act anymore. She covered her face and ran out of the shop. “Isabella!” Damian roared. He pushed me away so violently that I lost my balance, slamming hard against the wooden railing. My vision went black for a second from the pain. And just like that, he left me and all our friends standing there as he chased after her. As soon as Isabella ran out, she dashed toward a black sedan parked by the curb. Damian caught up to her, opened the driver’s door, and started the engine. The car roared to life, tires screeching against the asphalt. But just as the sedan sped into the intersection, a massive semi-truck blasted through the red light, slamming violently into the passenger side. BOOM! The screech of tearing metal echoed through the street. The sedan flipped twice before landing upside down in the middle of the road, debris scattering everywhere. Damian, covered in blood, crawled out of the shattered window. He ripped the passenger door open with his bare hands and pulled a bleeding, unconscious Isabella out. Isabella was just an unranked wolf; she didn’t have the rapid healing powers of an Alpha. She lay in his arms, her breath shallow. “Save… save our baby…” Damian looked back at me, standing on the balcony. The eyes that once held nothing but love for me were now filled with pure, unadulterated hatred. With all his strength, he screamed up at me, “Evelyn! I told you it was just a rehearsal! Why didn’t you believe me? Why did you have to kill her and my baby?!” The accusation hit me like a physical blow. The friends downstairs rushed out, pointing fingers at me. Kael was the first to speak. “Don’t you know how much Damian loved you, Evelyn? He even banished Isabella, who loved him for years, from the pack for five years just for you! This rehearsal was for you! She was just helping him!” Another friend chimed in, “Yeah, Evelyn, why are you so heartless? Isabella is so innocent. She just loved Damian. Why did you have to drive her to her death?” Their twisted accusations rained down on me. I looked at their self-righteous faces and suddenly burst into laughter.

Evelyn POV My friends twisted the truth, blaming me. It was laughable. These were the same people who once raised their glasses to toast to Damian and my eternal happiness. Now, they stood on a moral high ground. In their eyes, Damian’s five-year affair was completely excusable, and I was the malicious, unreasonable one for not stepping aside. Isabella was rushed to the hospital. Damian called the pack healer to the human clinic. Miraculously, the baby survived. Damian knelt by Isabella’s bed, whispering to her unconscious form with a mix of relief and regret: “Isabella, I’m so sorry. It’s my fault. I should have never let my past feelings for her make me weak.” “You are my fated mate. I can’t lose you. I loved the wrong person all along.” Loved the wrong person. Those words sliced through my heart. Standing in the shadows of the hospital corridor, I remembered when Damian held me at eighteen, telling me I was his fated mate. Even though I didn’t have a wolf to feel the bond, I had been happy for years. I also remembered that it wasn’t me who insisted on staying. I could have gone to the best design school in Paris, living my life like a normal human. My grandfather’s inheritance was more than enough to give me a luxurious, peaceful life. I regretted everything. If I had known this love would turn so ugly, I would have never started it. I decided to leave. I took one last look at the man crying over another woman, turned around, and walked toward the elevator. Behind me, I heard a heavy thud. Damian had collapsed onto the floor. But this time, I didn’t turn back. Damian, you taught me how it feels to be abandoned. I will remember it well. I got back to the villa late at night. I opened my phone. The pack’s social media feeds were flooded with posts from our mutual friends. They were all reposting videos of Damian putting the ring on Isabella’s finger, with the same caption: [Happy 5th Anniversary to Damian and Isabella! Stay happy forever!] In the photos, he looked incredibly devoted, and she was smiling like a queen. The whole city was celebrating “Isabella.” What a joke. My phone rang. It was Elder Alpha Reginald. “Get to the hospital right now! Damian needs you!” the old man commanded, his voice cold and arrogant. I stared out at the dark night, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Elder Alpha, Damian and I are nothing to each other. I have no obligation to save him. Also, thank you for your ‘generosity’ seven years ago. Because of you, I don’t even have to go through the official rejection process.” I hung up and blocked everyone from the Frostveil Pack. A clean break. I didn’t sleep that night. I pulled out my boxes and started packing every single thing that had to do with Damian. I was going to burn my past to ash.

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My sister “forgot” to put on clothes again and rushed out of her bedroom stark naked. She crashed straight into my boyfriend’s arms. Lifting her gorgeous face, she looked up at him with a naive, clueless smile. That was exactly how my last five boyfriends disappeared. Four of them had immediate physical reactions on the spot, so I slapped them and broke up with them. The other one managed to keep his cool, but in the middle of the night, he climbed up the balcony with his bare hands and sneaked into my sister’s bed. When I cried to my parents about it, they brushed it off. “Bianca is just a bit airheaded! She just forgot to put on clothes!” “If she did it on purpose, would she run around naked every single time?” With such biased, unreasonable parents, I didn’t dare to date anyone for four years. Until I met Ethan Vance. He was the most upright and intelligent man I had ever known. When we started discussing marriage, I brought him home to meet my parents. Before he arrived, I begged Bianca repeatedly, “Please, just wear some clothes!” Bianca nodded obediently. But the moment my boyfriend walked through the door, Bianca was running around the house naked again. Seeing the triumphant smirk at the corner of her mouth, I suddenly realized her “cluelessness” was just an act put on entirely for me. Too bad for her, my boyfriend hated idiots more than anything.

I had just brought Ethan through the front door. Suddenly, the bedroom door clicked open. Bianca rushed out, completely naked. Acting as if she had absolutely no idea there was a guest in the living room, she crashed straight into Ethan’s chest. “Oh my gosh!” She gasped, hurriedly covering her chest, her eyes welling up with tears instantly. “I’m so sorry… I forgot we had company.” She looked up, her wide, misty eyes staring helplessly at Ethan. That naive, innocent look—I had seen it way too many times. That was exactly how my first five boyfriends had fallen into her trap. “What the hell?! Do you keep a naked psycho in this house?!” Ethan closed his eyes instantly. Relying on his years of Taekwondo training, he delivered a swift, powerful kick that sent Bianca flying onto the floor. A loud thud echoed through the hallway, hard enough to shake dust off the walls. The air in the hallway froze for two seconds. Then came Bianca’s sharp, hysterical crying. “What happened? What’s going on?” My mother, Eleanor, rushed out of the master bedroom wearing an apron, still holding some half-folded laundry. My father, Richard, also poked his head out from the balcony. Ethan hid behind me, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, not daring to open them. “I’m fine. I just kicked a crazy exhibitionist. But that crazy chick might be in bad shape,” Ethan said, his voice cold as ice. On the floor, Bianca held her chest with one hand and covered her lower body with the other, sobbing uncontrollably. She bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with tears, looking utterly pathetic and helpless. “Ethan, you kicked me… It hurts so bad.” Her voice was soft and sweet, trembling just the right amount. “I just have a bad memory. I forgot we had a guest over. Please don’t be mad at me, okay?” As she spoke, she shrunk back like a frightened little rabbit. Eleanor immediately rushed over to hug her protectively, wrapping a coat around her. “You silly girl, why are you running around naked again? And Chloe, you are to blame too! You know your sister is forgetful. Before you brought an outsider home, why didn’t you go to her room and check on her first?” The first wave of moral gaslighting had landed precisely on me. I looked at Eleanor’s face, which took it all for granted. As usual, she blamed me for everything. Bianca was always the pure, innocent one who just made silly mistakes. And I, as the younger sister, was expected to clean up her messes and prevent her disasters at all times. “Mother, I told her three times before I came home,” I stated flatly. Bianca’s tears spilled over. “Chloe, I’m so sorry. I really didn’t mean to. I was just thinking about something else and got distracted…” She looked up at Ethan, her eyes shimmering like water. “Ethan, please don’t blame Chloe. It’s all my fault for being so stupid.” A textbook “pick-me girl” performance. First admit guilt, then show vulnerability, and finally, “defend” me to highlight her kindness and my pettiness. My first two boyfriends had died under this exact combo. I turned to look at Ethan. I wanted to see if his eyes, which were usually as clear as mountain springs, could see through this bitch. Ethan looked at her. There was no warmth in his eyes. He looked at her as if he were watching a poorly acted comedy show. “You really are stupid,” Ethan said. His voice wasn’t loud, but every word was crystal clear. Bianca froze. Eleanor froze, too. They probably never expected anyone to step right on her face when she offered herself up as a “clueless beauty.” “Since you knew there was an adult male coming over, and you still managed to ‘forget’ to wear clothes… that’s not being forgetful. That’s a severe lack of basic life skills,” Ethan said, stuffing his hands into his coat pockets and looking down at Bianca. The silence in the room was deafening. Bianca’s face, which was wearing a delicate “no-makeup” makeup look, instantly lost all color. She froze on the spot, even forgetting to shed her tears. “How dare you speak to her like that!” Richard couldn’t hold back anymore. He marched over and pointed a finger at Ethan. “This is my house! What’s wrong with my daughter not wearing clothes in her own home? You’re an outsider. You got a free show, and now you’re throwing a tantrum?” “Let me correct you,” Ethan said, meeting Richard’s gaze without flinching. “First, I didn’t look. That flat body of hers is nowhere near my type.” “Second, she opened the door herself, and the hallway is a common area. If you think it’s good parenting to let your daughter run around naked in common areas, then I seriously question your family’s values.” He turned to me. “Chloe, where is your coat?” I pointed to the coat on the sofa. Ethan walked over, picked it up, and draped it over my shoulders, gently fixing my hair. “Let’s go. The air in here is making me sick.” I looked at my parents’ livid faces and Bianca, who looked like she was about to collapse. Instead of the panic I used to feel, a wave of unprecedented satisfaction washed over me. “Okay.” I put on my coat and followed him out. Eleanor was shaking with rage behind us. “Chloe! If you dare to walk out of this door with him today, don’t you ever call me Mother again!” I stopped walking. But I didn’t turn around. “Whatever.” Ethan pulled the door open, and a gust of cold winter wind rushed in. “Chloe, Mother’s just saying that because she’s angry! You know she has a soft heart!” Bianca screamed from behind. Her voice had lost its soft, sweet tone and was filled with obvious panic. Ethan let out a low chuckle. “Hear that?” he whispered to me, looking down. “Even a cornered rat will show its teeth when it’s desperate.”

“You were pretty brutal back there,” I said as I buckled my seatbelt in the passenger seat. Ethan started the car, his long fingers resting on the steering wheel. “Brutal? I was just stating facts. If she were truly stupid, she wouldn’t have known to get angry when I insulted her. She should have agreed with my analysis.” He turned the steering wheel and drove out of the neighborhood. “Her acting skills are worse than the fresh grads working at my reception desk.” I looked out the window at the passing streetlights. The heavy stone that had weighed on my chest for over twenty years felt like it had finally been cracked open. Since we were kids, Bianca had always been the center of the universe. When she ruined my homework, Eleanor would say, “Your sister is just clumsy. Can’t you just write it again?” When she took the dress I liked, Richard would say, “Your sister loves pretty things. Why can’t you just let her have it?” Even when I started dating, Bianca only had to act innocent and shed a few tears in front of my boyfriends. Then, those guys would find her adorable and think I was being bitter and mean. No one had ever torn off her mask as ruthlessly as Ethan did. My phone kept buzzing in my bag. I pulled it out. It was a string of voice messages from Eleanor, one after another. The red notification dots were glaring. I tapped the first one. “Chloe! Have you lost your mind?! What kind of classless man are you dating? How dare he talk to your sister like that! Bianca has never heard a harsh word in her life, and today she was so humiliated she’s crying under her blanket, hyperventilating!” I listened to it with a blank face. Then I tapped the second one. “You make that Vance guy come back and apologize to your sister right now! Otherwise, don’t you ever come back to this house. We raised you and fed you, not for you to team up with some stranger to bully your sister!” Ethan heard every word clearly from the driver’s seat. He let out a cold sneer. “Does your mother only watch cheap soap operas? That script is straight out of a bad 90s drama.” I locked my phone screen and tossed it back into my bag. “I’m used to it.” “Being used to it doesn’t make it right.” Ethan stopped the car at a red light and turned to look at me. “Are you planning on taking this forever?” I looked into his clear, deep eyes. “No,” I said. “I want her to pay back everything she owes me, with interest.” The corner of Ethan’s mouth curved into a beautiful smirk. “Let me know if you need any help. I love watching fake people crash and burn.” The next morning. I was in the middle of a meeting at work when the receptionist, Lily, sent me a Snapchat message. “Chloe, your sister is here to see you. She’s waiting at the front desk.” I frowned. Bianca rarely came to my office. She always complained that my fast-paced tech company was too depressing. I walked out of the meeting room and headed to the lobby. Bianca was wearing a classy tweed jacket, holding a fancy thermos in her hand. Seeing me, she immediately walked up. “Chloe, are you done with work?” Her voice was as soft as ever, with no trace of yesterday’s humiliation. “What do you want?” I didn’t reach for the thermos. Bianca didn’t seem embarrassed. She set the thermos down on the reception desk. “Mother was so upset she couldn’t sleep last night. I was thinking… yesterday’s incident was indeed caused by my forgetfulness, and Ethan might have misunderstood me.” She tilted her head slightly, exposing her slim, fair neck. “I made some chicken soup. I wanted you to give it to Ethan. Consider it my apology to him.” Several colleagues passing by turned to look at us. To outsiders, she looked like a sweet, caring older sister trying to patch things up for her difficult younger sister. Looking at her performance, I felt a wave of nausea. “No thanks. He doesn’t drink things from questionable sources.” Bianca’s eyes instantly welled with tears again. “Chloe, are you still mad at me? I know Ethan is amazing, and you’re worried I might steal him from you. But I really don’t have those intentions.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just loud enough for the receptionist and several passing coworkers to hear. This was her classic move: preemptive strike. By being the first to say “you’re worried I might steal him,” no matter what I said next, I would look insecure and jealous. If this were the old me, I would have dragged her aside to compromise just to save face. But not today. I took out my phone, opened the voice recorder app, and placed it face-up on the reception desk. “Keep going,” I said, looking at her. “Tell me more about how you plan on stealing him. Go into detail.”

Bianca’s smile froze on her face. She clearly didn’t expect me to just stop caring about my reputation, let alone display the recording screen right in front of her. “Chloe… what are you doing?” Her voice faltered, and her eyes kept darting toward my phone screen. “Since you love acting in public so much, let’s make it a full production.” I leaned against the reception desk, crossing my arms. “Didn’t you say I’m afraid of you stealing him? Prove it to us. How are you going to do it? With your cheap, unbuttoned pajamas, or with this soup that probably has god-knows-what in it?” A few coworkers watching nearby let out soft chuckles. People in tech companies never lacked a nose for drama. Bianca understood my sarcasm, and her face flushed crimson. “Chloe Miller, you’ve gone too far!” She finally dropped the act, her tears vanishing in an instant. “I came here out of the goodness of my heart to bring you guys something, and you’re trying to intimidate me with a recording?” She reached out to grab my phone. I quickly snatched it away. “Why aren’t you crying anymore?” I looked at her coldly. “Where’s your helpless airhead filter? Where’s that innocent, victimized look? Giving up on the act so soon?” Bianca gritted her teeth in anger. But with so many eyes on her, she had to suppress her rage. “Fine, Chloe. You think that Vance guy can protect you forever, don’t you?” She leaned in close, whispering so only the two of us could hear. “Who do you think you are? Since we were kids, whenever I wanted something, Mom and Dad gave it to me.” “Your last two exes? I barely had to wiggle my finger and they came begging like dogs. You think Ethan Vance is any different?” “Men are all the same. Just you wait. I’ll have him begging on his knees to lick my toes sooner or later.” She thought I had stopped the recording. She thought whispering made her safe. But she didn’t know that my phone was the latest model with incredible audio capture. And she definitely didn’t know that the recording app was still running in the background even though the screen had gone black. Looking at her face, slightly distorted by jealousy and competitive rage, I found her incredibly pathetic. “Sure,” I said, taking a step back to create distance. “I’ll be waiting.” Bianca sneered, picked up the thermos from the desk, and stomped away in her high heels. I picked up my phone and stopped the recording. Looking at the 3-minute-and-12-second audio file on my screen, I smiled. My first card was in my hand. After work. Ethan came to pick me up. His car was parked by the curb, and he was holding a hot latte. “You look exhausted. Did your brainless sister disgust you again?” He handed me the coffee and opened the passenger door for me. I took a sip of the coffee. “She came to my office to deliver soup today, and she officially declared war.” I pulled out my phone and played the audio. Bianca’s voice echoed in the quiet car: “I’ll have him begging on his knees to lick my toes sooner or later.” After listening, Ethan frowned in disgust. “Does she have any hygiene awareness? Licking toes can lead to fungal infections. That’s disgusting.” I couldn’t help but burst into laughter. The stress that had built up all day vanished instantly because of his words. “You’re not mad?” I asked. “Why would I be mad? Being targeted by an idiot just proves my taste is good.” Ethan started the car. “But still, if we don’t crush people like her once and for all, she’ll keep buzzing around like a fly.” His long fingers tapped the steering wheel. “When do you want to pull the trigger?” “Christmas,” I said, looking at the city lights outside. “On Christmas, all our extended family will be there. Bianca cares about her ‘perfect daughter’ image in front of the relatives more than anything. I want to strip her mask off in front of everyone.” Ethan glanced at me. His eyes held unedited admiration. “Great plan.” “Need any technical support? Like casting this audio onto the TV during Christmas dinner?” “No need,” I shook my head. “That’s not enough. I need more evidence to prove she isn’t just targeting me, but that she’s a pathological liar.” There were still two weeks until Christmas. During those two weeks, Bianca was surprisingly quiet. She didn’t cause any drama, didn’t post any passive-aggressive things on Snapchat, and didn’t even bother me. Eleanor called me twice. She told me in a harsh tone that I had to come home for Christmas dinner, and I was absolutely not allowed to bring Ethan. “That boyfriend of yours has no manners. I will not allow him in our house!” I agreed. Because I knew this was just the calm before the storm. A person like Bianca could never let things go. She was definitely planning something big. The day before Christmas. I was called back to the house to help wrap Christmas gifts. In reality, Eleanor just wanted to assert her maternal authority by making me do manual labor. As soon as I walked into the kitchen, I heard Bianca’s dramatic gasp from the living room. “Oh my gosh! How… how did this happen?!”

I wiped my hands and walked out of the kitchen. Shattered porcelain lay scattered all over the living room rug. It was the vintage Tiffany & Co. cup set I had prepared as a Christmas gift for Ethan’s grandmother. I had spent half a month’s salary and used several connections to get it. Now, it was just a pile of worthless trash. Bianca stood nearby, holding the lid of the packaging box, looking terrified and lost. “Chloe, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know this box had something so expensive in it… I just wanted to help you clean up the table, and my hand slipped…” She covered her mouth as tears instantly streamed down her face. Eleanor rushed out of the bedroom when she heard the noise. Seeing the shattered pieces and Bianca crying like a victim, she immediately understood what had happened. But she didn’t blame Bianca. Instead, she turned to me, her eyebrows knitted closely. “Why did you leave something so expensive lying around? You know your sister is clumsy! Now that it’s broken, who are you going to blame?” The same old excuse. The same twisted logic. I didn’t say a word. I just stared at the broken porcelain on the floor. That was the exact vintage set Ethan’s Nana loved. I had planned to present it to her during my Christmas visit. “Chloe, how much was it? I’ll pay you back, okay?” Bianca walked over, gently tugging at my sleeve. “Please don’t be mad at me. I really didn’t mean to. I’ll use my savings to pay you back.” “Pay me back? With what?” I pulled my arm away and looked at her coldly. “This is a rare vintage set. You couldn’t find another one even if you had the money.” “It’s just a stupid cup set!” Richard walked out of the study. He couldn’t stand seeing me give his favorite daughter a hard time. “Chloe, that’s enough! Your sister already apologized. What more do you want? Ruining a family gathering over a cup set—where are your manners?!” Manners. Generosity. Yes, those were the words I had heard the most growing up. Because I was the younger sister, because I was smart, and because I was rational. So I had to be the bigger person. I had to tolerate all of Bianca’s stupidity and destruction. “I’m not making a big deal out of it,” I said, taking a deep breath as I picked up the pieces one by one and put them into a trash bag. “But this was meant for my boyfriend’s family. Since you all think it’s not a big deal, you can explain it to Ethan yourselves.” Hearing Ethan’s name, a flash of smugness crossed Bianca’s eyes. She thought that since the gift was ruined, I wouldn’t be able to go to the Vance family’s Christmas party. She thought Ethan would think I was classless and lose interest in me. That was her plan. Unfortunately, she got one thing wrong. I tied the trash bag and held it in my hand. “Mother, what time are Uncle Robert and Aunt Margaret arriving for Christmas dinner tomorrow?” Eleanor was taken aback, then said crossly, “We eat at noon. Why? Are you planning to show everyone your attitude?” “No,” I smiled slightly. “Tomorrow, I’m going to make sure everyone has a great time.” The next day, 11:00 AM. The relatives started arriving. Robert, Margaret, and several cousins we were close with. The living room was filled with laughter and “Merry Christmas” wishes. Bianca was wearing a gorgeous red knit dress with a full face of perfect makeup, floating around like a social butterfly. “Try these nuts. I bought them specifically for you.” “You look so beautiful today. That coat really suits you.” The relatives were charmed. “Bianca is getting more mature and sensible by the day. Whoever marries her will be the luckiest man alive,” Margaret praised with a laugh. “I know, right? Bianca is not only gorgeous but has such a sweet personality,” another aunt agreed, then turned her eyes to me as I sat quietly in the corner, sipping water. “Unlike Chloe. She’s been a quiet, cold girl since she was a kid. Not very sweet. Chloe, why isn’t your boyfriend here with you? Didn’t you say he was loaded?” The spotlight was finally on me. Bianca’s eyes lit up. She immediately wiped the smile off her face, replacing it with a worried, hesitant expression. “Please don’t bring him up.” Bianca sighed, sitting down next to Margaret. “That man… has a really weird temper. When he came over last time, he was not only rude, but he also… he yelled at me. Chloe is so obsessed with him she won’t even listen to Mother and Father anymore.” The relatives gasped. “Are you serious?” Robert frowned, looking at Richard. Richard let out a cold grunt, which was as good as confirming it. “Chloe, I have to say something here,” Robert said, instantly taking on his self-righteous Robert persona. “For a girl, a man’s character is the most important thing. A man who doesn’t respect your parents and bullies your sister should be dumped immediately!” “Exactly,” Margaret chimed in. “Your sister is so sweet, and he still yelled at her? He probably has anger issues. Don’t let his money blind you.” The entire living room turned into an intervention against me. Eleanor sat on the sofa, looking pleased. She seemed to think that the pressure from the relatives would finally make me bow my head and apologize. I set my water glass down. “Father, Mother.” “You guys have always believed Bianca is just a sweet, naive girl who makes silly mistakes.” I pulled a black voice recorder from my pocket and held it up. “Since everyone thinks she’s so innocent…” “Why don’t we listen to what she says when no one is watching?”

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On the night of our Senior Prom, I put on my gorgeous gown and took my boyfriend Carter’s arm. When the music started and Carter and I twirled onto the dance floor, a loud, sharp crack echoed through the hall. I crashed hard onto the floor. And my prosthetic leg went flying across the polished wood. Every single eye in the room locked onto me. A second later, the crowd erupted into cruel laughter. I wished the floor would open up and swallow me whole. But Carter didn’t even try to help me up. He just stood there, looking down at me with pure disgust. “You’ve embarrassed me again!” he hissed. Limping, humiliated, and fighting back tears, I dragged myself out of the ballroom. But when I reached the parking lot, I overheard my best friend, Tiffany, talking to Carter. “I told you she shouldn’t come to the prom, but you just had to bring her,” Tiffany said, her voice dripping with fake pity. “Are you really planning on taking care of a cripple for the rest of your life?” Carter took a slow drag from his cigarette, keeping silent. Tiffany continued, “Honestly, I was the one who loosened the screws on her prosthetic leg. I just wanted to toughen her up. She needs to learn to be independent, not be a constant drag on you.” I thought Carter would defend me. I thought he would be furious. But he wasn’t. “Get in the car,” he said softly, holding the door open for Tiffany. As I watched their tail lights disappear into the night, I pulled out my phone and dialed the number of the recruiter in New York. “I accept your offer,” I said.

The next morning, my phone buzzed. It was Carter. “Today is the graduation ceremony. Where are you?” “I thought I was too embarrassing for you to be seen with,” I said coldly. Carter’s tone softened slightly over the line. “Yesterday was just an accident. I didn’t even blame you for it.” I let out a cold laugh in my head. Blame me? What right do you even have to blame me? “Last night was no accident. I know exactly who broke my prosthetic leg.” With that, I hung up. Half an hour later, there was a knock at my door. Carter stood there holding a bouquet of roses. “You only graduate college once, Aria,” he said, sounding like the perfect, caring boyfriend. “The professors and our classmates are waiting for you.” I opened my phone and saw a dozen worried texts from my academic advisor. Finally, I put on my graduation gown and walked back to campus with Carter. The moment Tiffany saw me, she ran over with a bright, fake smile, waving at me. I looked right through her and walked past. Carter frowned, glaring at me before turning to comfort her. “Don’t mind her, Tiffany. Aria is just being overly sensitive. She just needs some time to cool down.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the steps of the main hall. “Can you stop throwing a tantrum in public?” he whispered harshly. “Everyone is watching. Do you want to embarrass me again?” His eyes were freezing cold, as if I were the one being completely unreasonable. “We need to take our graduation photos first. Weren’t you dying to get a picture with me in our gowns? Don’t ruin it with that miserable face.” The photographer was already setting up, and our classmates were lining up. I swallowed my humiliation and stood next to Carter. Suddenly, Tiffany squeezed her way in. Instead of keeping me close, Carter immediately stepped aside to give Tiffany the spot right next to him on his left, shoving me to the very edge of the group. The camera flashed, and a few minutes later, the printed photos were handed out. On the photo, I was just a blurry shadow at the very edge, my face barely recognizable. Meanwhile, Carter and Tiffany were standing in the center, their fingers tightly locked together, smiling warmly at each other. A space meant for two had been crowded by three. And I was the extra one. I had hundreds of photos like this in my camera roll. Tears welled up in my eyes, and no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t blink them away. Wiping my cheek, I looked Carter dead in the eye. “Carter, let’s break up.” He froze for a second, his grip tightening on the photo paper. “Are you seriously being this childish right now? If you don’t like the photo, we can retake it. You don’t just throw the word ‘breakup’ around.” “Besides, the HR manager at the Vance Group is about to process our onboarding. They only accepted you because of my dad’s connection. If we break up, with your physical condition…” He glanced down at my leg, stopping himself before the words got too ugly. “Come on. Tiffany and I only do these things for your own good. Let’s just take another photo, okay?” It was always like this. Whenever Tiffany humiliated me under the guise of “helping me,” he would always throw me a scrap of pity as an apology. A movie, a trip, a photo—but he never actually kept his promises. I was done believing him. I lifted my chin, wiped my tears, and said firmly, “I am completely serious, Carter. We are done.” Then, I turned to Tiffany. “And as for you, we are no longer friends. Get out of my life.”

I pulled out my phone and scrolled up to my academic advisor’s last message. “Aria, this firm in New York said they don’t care about your physical condition. They specifically asked for you because of your top grades. The pay is amazing, but once you sign, you have to commit to staying there for at least five years. Are you sure?” Carter had no idea that I had received an offer from a top-tier global firm in New York weeks ago. I had rejected it back then just to stay in this city with him. Now, I realized how pathetic that was. I quickly typed my reply. “Professor Evans, I want to take the offer. Can you give me three days to pack my things?” “Absolutely. I’ll finalize the paperwork.” I went back to my dorm to pack. The screws on my prosthetic leg were completely stripped and wouldn’t tighten, leaving me limping heavily. As I was carrying a heavy stack of textbooks down the stairs, my foot slipped. Just as I was about to tumble down, a pair of strong hands grabbed my arms, stabilizing me. Carter instinctively knelt down to check my left leg. “What happened? Didn’t we just get this prosthetic serviced during winter break? Is it broken again?” “I told you I would help you move your stuff. You should have stayed upstairs and rested.” Hearing the genuine worry in his voice, my tears betrayed me again. When I first got my prosthetic leg freshman year, I was clumsy and fell constantly. Carter was always there, catching me every single time I tripped. Over the past four years, protecting me had become his second nature. Yet, he was the same man who stood by and let Tiffany put me in danger. At this moment, I hated my tendency to cry when angry. I was completely done with him, yet my tears kept flowing. I pushed him away with all my strength and grabbed the stair railing to pick up my box. “I can do it myself. I don’t need your help.” “Stop being so stubborn. Look, I know you only said we broke up because you were mad. Go back and rest.” He let out a soft laugh and reached to grab my box. With tears in my eyes, a tiny, pathetic shred of hope flared up in my chest. “Carter… if I left this city, would you come looking for me?” Before he could answer, Tiffany’s voice echoed from the top floor. “Carter! Are you up yet? There’s too much stuff, and I just tripped and hurt my knee!” Thud. Carter dropped my box instantly and turned around, running up the stairs without a second thought. The heavy stack of textbooks fell right onto my feet. My real foot swelled with pain, while my prosthetic leg made a horrible cracking sound as the remaining joint broke. He didn’t even look back, shouting over his shoulder: “Tiffany fell! I need to check on her! I’ll come back down for you in a minute!” I collapsed onto the floor. Grabbing the railing, I dragged myself up, gathered my things, and walked out of the building alone. Under the blazing sun, I limped toward the campus gate. A few minutes later, Carter’s car pulled up beside me. He sounded annoyed. “I told you to wait for me downstairs. Why do you always have to play disappear games?” “Get in.” I hugged my heavy box tighter. The campus gate was packed with traffic; there wasn’t a taxi in sight. Tiffany was sitting in the front passenger seat, happily eating an ice cream, with absolutely no intention of moving. I walked to the back to open the passenger door. But the back seat was completely piled high with Tiffany’s luggage. There was no room for a person. Tiffany turned around and gave me a sheepish smile. “Sorry, I have so much stuff. Do you want to take the front seat? I can try to squeeze in the back?” Carter immediately reached over and held her hand, his voice incredibly tender. “No need. My SUV has a third row. The trunk space is empty, she can just sit in the back.” “You almost got heatstroke waiting for her just now. Can’t she be considerate of you for once?” Then, he looked at me through the rearview mirror, his voice cold and dismissive. “The back is too tight for Tiffany’s legs. She’d be uncomfortable.” “Besides, you have a prosthetic leg anyway. You won’t feel the cramped space. Just deal with it until we get to your place.” I stood there in the heat, suddenly wanting to laugh. Carter had bought this SUV during our junior year with his first big paycheck. Back then, he had spent hours picking out a model with the most spacious front passenger seat. “Your prosthetic can get uncomfortable on long drives, babe. You need the extra legroom.” “Aria, this front seat is reserved only for you.” But now, the front seat belonged to Tiffany. And I, the actual girlfriend, was expected to crawl into the trunk like a piece of cargo. “No thanks,” I said, slamming the door shut. “Have a nice trip. I’ll call an Uber.” I turned and walked away.

I spent the next two days getting my visa and documents ready for New York. The day before my flight, my brother, Austin, unexpectedly drove down to San Francisco to attend my graduation send-off party. When I got the text, I rushed downstairs, only to overhear him, Tiffany, and Carter conspiring in the lobby. “Austin, when we get inside, give this off-the-shoulder slit dress to Aria. Tell her it’s your graduation gift!” Tiffany giggled. “Let her show off her prosthetic leg in front of everyone. Once she gets laughed at a few more times, she’ll finally get over her insecurity!” Carter didn’t stop her. Instead, he ruffled her hair and smiled. “Once Aria overcomes her insecurity about her leg, she’ll thank you for this, Tiffany.” I froze in the doorway, my blood turning to ice. I thought, at the very least, my own brother would protect me. But Austin turned around, saw me, and handed me the garment bag without hesitation. “Aria, here’s my graduation gift to you. Put it on for the party tonight.” I stared at the dress with the high slit that would expose my entire left leg. A wave of bitter pain rushed through me. “Austin! You’re my brother! Are you seriously joining them to make me a laughingstock?” “You know how much I hate people staring at my leg!” Austin’s brow furrowed in annoyance. “Aria, don’t be so dramatic. We are all just trying to help you overcome your fears!” Carter’s voice was equally displeased. “Do you always have to interpret Tiffany’s kindness with such malice?” “She spends every waking hour trying to find ways to build your confidence, and this is how you treat her? You are so ungrateful.” “Apologize to Tiffany. Now.” My fingernails dug into my palms. My tears had finally run dry, but my voice still shook with rage. “Am I ungrateful, or does Tiffany have a sick obsession with humiliating me? You two know the truth better than anyone!” Tiffany immediately put on her victim face, looking downcast. “Maybe… maybe I shouldn’t go to the party. You guys should go with Aria.” Carter gave me a freezing look. “No! She’s just spoiled. She thinks the whole world revolves around her.” To me, he said, “Do whatever you want. If you don’t want to come with us, fine. But without a date, you’ll be the one looking pathetic tonight.” He slammed the car door, and the engine roared as they sped away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust. I stood there for a long time, a sarcastic smile creeping onto my lips. Carter had promised me months ago that I would be his only date to the graduation party. Now, he had left with another woman. But it didn’t matter. After tonight, we would never see each other again.

When I arrived at the ballroom, I immediately saw Tiffany surrounded by Carter and my brother. Some passing classmates looked at Tiffany with envy. “She is so lucky. Her boyfriend is gorgeous, and her brother is so overprotective.” Then, they looked at me, their eyes shifting to amusement. “So what if she got straight A’s? She’s a cripple. She couldn’t even find a date for the graduation party.” I ignored them. I grabbed a glass of champagne and went to say goodbye to my dorm mates. We were in the middle of a warm conversation when Tiffany’s voice suddenly boomed through the microphone on stage. “Everyone! For tonight’s celebration, I have a special gift for my best friend, Aria!” Suddenly, the giant projector screen behind the stage lit up. Several photos appeared. They were photos of me right after my amputation—crying, losing control of my bladder, and looking completely disheveled and vulnerable during medical exams. These deeply private, humiliating photos were enlarged and broadcasted for the entire class to see. My body began to shake violently. I stared at Carter in sheer disbelief. “You gave those to her? You promised me that no one would ever see those! You knew that was the darkest time of my life!” During those bleak, depressed months, Carter had been the one holding me, comforting me. “I promise, Aria. No one will ever know about this. To the world, you will always be the strong, brilliant girl you are.” But now, Carter seemed to have forgotten every single promise. He looked at me with a casual shrug and a smirk. “Tiffany is right. Once people talk about it, you’ll get used to it. Look, you aren’t even crying this time, are you?” “She did this for your own good.” The snickers and whispering voices of my classmates crashed over me like waves. Someone pulled out their phone. “Oh my god, this is gold. I’m posting this on TikTok!” I looked at Carter’s cold, indifferent face. To my surprise, I didn’t break down. I didn’t even shed a single tear. I walked straight onto the stage, unplugged the projector cable, and grabbed the mic. “Is mocking someone’s trauma funny to you?” I said, my voice dead calm. “If any of these photos are uploaded to Snapchat, TikTok, or any other platform, I will file a lawsuit for invasion of privacy. Try me.” The room fell dead silent. No one dared to whisper. I turned on my heel and left the hall. Carter chased after me into the lobby. “What is wrong with you? Why did you have to ruin Tiffany’s moment on stage?” “Whatever. Tiffany and I aren’t going to hold a grudge. Just make sure you report to the Vance Group tomorrow morning. Tiffany and I prepared a special welcome gift for you.” His phone buzzed. I caught a glimpse of Tiffany’s message on his screen. They were planning to make me do a physical fitness test in front of the HR manager tomorrow. They wanted to force me to do fifty push-ups to “prove my capability” before I could onboard. Another cruel prank under the guise of “helping me.” Too bad they would never get the chance. I smiled faintly. “Sure. I have a big gift for you tomorrow, too.” I had only ten hours left before my flight. I packed my passport and headed straight to the airport. Before boarding, I opened my laptop and sent an email to the HR Director of the Vance Group. Attached was the proof of Tiffany’s academic suspension for cheating, which Carter had helped cover up. “Dear HR Director, according to your company policy, candidates with a history of academic suspension are disqualified. Furthermore, Carter knowingly falsified her resume to bypass your background check. I trust you will handle this ethical breach accordingly.” Goodbye to this toxic city, and goodbye to Carter.

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When my best friend, Chloe, invited me to go camping by the lake, my boyfriend, Ethan, immediately offered to come along. “It’s not safe for two girls to be out in the woods alone,” he said. Looking at the two people I loved most in the world standing by my side, my heart swelled with warmth. It was already dark by the time we reached the campsite. Out of nowhere, Chloe suggested going for a midnight swim. Ethan immediately offered to join her. “It’s not safe for you to swim alone in the dark,” he said. “I want to go too,” I chimed in. But Ethan stopped me. “Aren’t you terrified of deep water? I’d worry more if you came along. Just wait for us at the camp.” So, I waited alone. An hour passed, and there was still no sign of them. I opened my phone and saw Chloe had just posted on Instagram. “The most romantic thing this year—a midnight swim in the summer.” The attached photo showed Ethan, shirtless, holding her waist in the moonlit lake. A sharp pang of jealousy hit my chest, but I quickly forced myself to calm down. Chloe was my best friend. Back in high school, when I was being bullied and pushed into the school pool, she was the one who pulled me out. She had always been my protector. How could she ever betray me? A moment later, my phone buzzed. It was a call from Ethan. “Hey, Chloe and I are going to stay by the lake to watch the sunrise. Go ahead and get some sleep.” My heart sank into a cold, dark abyss. I didn’t sit there like an idiot waiting. I chose to leave.

I left the tent exactly as it was, put out the campfire, and walked straight to the parking lot. A couple camping nearby noticed me. Maybe my face was ghostly pale, because the woman asked with genuine concern, “Are you okay? Do you need some help?” I shook my head and forced a tight smile. “I’m fine. Thank you.” Then, I got into my car and drove away. The highway was nearly empty. My phone on the passenger seat vibrated non-stop. It was about a two-and-a-half-hour drive back to the city. The screen lit up and went dark, over and over. Ethan sent a few texts: “Why aren’t you replying?” “Are you asleep?” He followed up with a few voice notes, but I didn’t play them. Chloe’s text came ten minutes after his. Just one. “Maya, are you mad at us? Where did you go? Everything in your tent is untouched.” Then came five missed calls. I didn’t answer a single one. By the time I pulled into a highway rest stop, it was 2:00 AM. I shut off the engine. The moment the car went silent, all the strength drained from my body. I collapsed over the steering wheel. My phone rang again. This time, it was Chloe. I stared at her name on the screen for a long time. Her contact name was “Chloe ❤️”—she had grabbed my phone and added that heart emoji herself on her birthday last year. I hit decline. Then I opened my contacts, deleted the heart, and changed it back to just “Chloe.” I finally unlocked my apartment door just as the sun was rising. I stood under the hot shower for a long time, my mind racing. I thought back to my birthday three months ago. Chloe had been hyping it up in our Snapchat group a week in advance, promising me a “once-in-a-lifetime” surprise. But on the actual day, she and Ethan vanished for the entire afternoon. When they finally showed up at the restaurant that night, both of their hair was a messy, and Chloe’s ears were flushed pink. She handed me a cake box with a brilliant smile. “Your boyfriend and I literally ran through the entire downtown area for this cake. We’re exhausted.” Ethan chimed in beside her. “Yeah, she insisted on getting it from that artisanal bakery. It was already closed, but she practically forced me to find the owner to open up for us.” “Thank you,” I had said. As I cut the cake, I asked where they had been all afternoon. Ethan shrugged. “I told you, buying the cake.” Chloe playfully nudged his arm. “Why are you spilling all the details? How am I supposed to plan surprises for her in the future if you talk so much?” He smiled down at her, his eyes filled with a relaxed, unguarded intimacy. That was a look he used to reserve only for me. I didn’t turn off the shower until the water ran freezing cold. As I was drying my hair, the phone rang. This time, it was Ethan. I picked up. “Where on earth did you go? We’ve been calling you all night. Chloe is literally crying her eyes out.” His very first sentence was about Chloe crying. “I’m home,” I said. “You’re… what? You drove back alone in the middle of the night?” “Yeah.” There was a two-second silence on the other end, as if he was struggling to find his words. “If you were upset, you could have just told us. Driving alone on the highway at night—do you have any idea how dangerous that is?” “Just let Chloe know I’m home. That’s all.” I hung up. I put my phone on silent and flipped it face down on the table. Closing my eyes in bed, that Instagram picture kept flashing in my mind. They looked so close, so perfect for each other. I was never a paranoid person. But when the same “coincidence” happens too many times, it’s no longer a coincidence.

“Maya, you need to explain to me what the hell happened last night.” Ethan showed up at my apartment the next afternoon. He didn’t even knock; he just used his spare key. I was in the kitchen, waiting for the pasta water to boil. He stood in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest, his face tight with irritation. “Chloe has been crying since last night. She thinks she said something wrong and drove you away.” I dropped a handful of spaghetti into the pot. “Why is she crying?” “Why do you think? She woke up, found you gone, your phone went straight to voicemail. Wouldn’t you panic if you were in her shoes?” I stirred the pasta slowly. “I just wanted to go home. It has nothing to do with her.” Ethan walked over, standing right next to me, his tone softening slightly. “Is this about me going for a swim with her last night? The bugs were terrible out there, the water was freezing, and you’ve always hated deep water anyway. Chloe just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable, so…” “I know,” I interrupted him. “Like I said, it has nothing to do with her.” He stared at my profile, his expression slowly shifting into confusion. “Then what is wrong with you?” I turned off the stove and drained the pasta into a bowl. “I just need some space.” He nodded, but his brows remained knitted. “Fine. Eat your food first. I’ll have Chloe call you later. At least tell her you’re okay so she stops blaming herself.” He turned to leave, then paused, looking back at me. “By the way, what happened to your forehead?” “Just a minor burn from the steam. It’s fine.” “Put a band-aid on it. Don’t let it get infected.” And with that, he left. From the moment he walked in to the moment he left, it took exactly eight minutes. He didn’t ask why I drove two and a half hours alone in the dark. He didn’t ask if I was tired, or what time I got home. His priorities were crystal clear: Chloe was crying, so he came. At 3:00 PM, Chloe called. I answered. “Maya, are you mad at me?” Her voice was raspy and thick, as if she really had been crying for hours. “No.” “Then why did you leave so suddenly? I came back to the tent and saw everything untouched. You scared the life out of me.” “Something came up.” “What could be so urgent at midnight?” I paused for a second. “Work emails. I had to submit a proposal first thing in the morning.” “Liar,” she said softly. “You told me before the trip that your schedule was totally clear this week.” I remained silent. She sighed, her voice turning defensive. “Is this because I dragged Ethan to go swimming? I just wanted to give you some quiet time. Didn’t you say you wanted to just sit by the campfire and zone out? I told him we should leave you alone for a bit so you could relax…” “I know, Chloe.” “Then why didn’t you just tell me before leaving? Do you know how long Ethan and I looked for you? He was literally about to call the cops.” I gripped my phone, my knuckles turning white. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.” Only then did she let out a sigh of relief. “Next time you’re unhappy, just tell me, okay? You’ve been like this since we were kids—keeping everything bottled up.” “Okay.” “Ethan and I are heading back tomorrow. I’ll take you out for a massive dinner to make it up to you.” “Okay.” After hanging up, I sat in silence for a long time. Every word she said was logical. Every explanation made perfect sense. But deep down, I knew something was entirely wrong. She hadn’t deleted that Instagram post. I opened her profile to look at it again. The top comment was from Ethan—a simple high-five emoji. Chloe had replied: “Go away lol.” Underneath, a mutual friend had commented: “Wait, who is this? New boyfriend?” Chloe never replied. And neither did Ethan. That comment was still sitting right there.

We ended up getting dinner at Chloe’s favorite Mexican spot downtown. The second she walked through the door, she threw her arms around me, hugging me so tight I could barely breathe. “My sweet Maya! Did you miss me?” Ethan followed close behind, holding two iced boba teas. He handed one to Chloe. “Low sugar, just the way you like it.” Chloe took a sip and playfully rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, so you actually remembered this time? Last time you got me full sugar and I almost died.” Ethan chuckled, then turned his gaze to me. “Do you want one? I can go grab another.” “No, I’m good.” “Well, you can have a sip of mine? I haven’t touched it yet.” He offered his cup. Chloe immediately blocked his hand. “That’s yours. Sharing drinks is so unsanitary.” She turned and waved down the waiter. “Could we get a glass of water for her? Room temperature, please. Thanks.” Ethan didn’t say anything else. He pulled out a chair and sat down. When ordering, the two of them debated for five minutes over whether to get spicy salsa on the tacos. Chloe couldn’t handle spice, but Ethan loved it. “Last time you ate that hot sauce, you got a massive canker sore the next day. It looked so painful,” Chloe said, tapping his menu. “How about we do one mild and one spicy?” “Sure, whatever you say.” I spoke up, “I actually want spicy too.” “Your stomach has been sensitive lately,” Ethan said without even looking up. “I’ll be fine for once.” “Better not risk it. Remember last time you had those extremely spicy wings and spent the night in the ER? Chloe had to stay with you all night.” I forced a small smile and dropped the subject. Once the food arrived, Chloe kept putting food onto Ethan’s plate. “Try this. How is it?” Ethan took a bite. “Could be better.” Chloe froze, pulling her fork back. “If it ‘could be better,’ why are you eating it? Spit it out!” Ethan laughed, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Just kidding. It’s actually great.” Chloe playfully swatted at him, and they dissolved into giggles again. I stared down at my drink, stirring the ice cubes. At the next table, a young couple was watching them. The girl whispered to her boyfriend, “Are those two together? They look so cute.” The guy whispered back, “Yeah, looks like it. The other girl is probably just a friend.” They didn’t bother to lower their voices. I heard every word. Chloe heard them too. Her hand froze for a second. She glanced at me, then quickly pulled her hand away from Ethan’s arm. “Maya, let me get that taco for you.” “No, I’ve got it.” As I reached across the table, my sleeve brushed against the hot fajita skillet, burning my wrist. Ethan was busy pouring tea for Chloe and didn’t notice. But Chloe saw. She stood up and grabbed my hand. “Oh my god, let me see. Is it red?” “I’m fine,” I said, pulling my arm back. “Seriously, it’s just a tiny scratch.” Ethan finally looked up. “What happened?” “Nothing,” Chloe answered for me. “Be careful when you pour the tea, Ethan. You’re spilling water everywhere.” She grabbed a napkin to wipe the table. Ethan watched her, naturally taking the napkin from her hand to help. Their fingers brushed against each other. Neither of them pulled away. I pulled my sleeve down, hiding the red burn on my wrist. Halfway through the dinner, Chloe went to the restroom. Ethan suddenly leaned in close. “Are you free this weekend? I want to take you to that new art exhibition.” I looked at him. “What exhibition?” “The… uh…” He hesitated. “Chloe recommended it. She said the artist’s style is exactly what you like.” “Chloe recommended it.” “Yeah. She mentioned you brought it up once.” I set my fork down. “I never brought that up.” He blinked, looking lost. “Oh. Maybe I got it mixed up. But anyway, let’s go this weekend.” “Why don’t you just go with Chloe? Since she recommended it, she definitely wants to see it.” Ethan frowned. “I’m asking you. I want to take you.” “Fine,” I said. “Let me know the time.” He let out a sigh of relief, as if he had just checked off a difficult task on his to-do list. The moment Chloe returned, he immediately steered the conversation elsewhere. “Hey Chloe, are you going to that exhibition this weekend?” “Of course! I really want to check out that brunch spot right next to it too.” I kept my head down, eating my food in silence.

I didn’t go to the exhibition that weekend. The night before, I texted Ethan saying I had terrible cramps and couldn’t make it. He sent a single text back: “We’ll do it another time then.” Chloe, on the other hand, sent a barrage of hyper voice notes in our Snapchat group. She ended with: “Ethan and I will go check it out first, and I’ll send you tons of pictures!” I replied with a simple “OK” emoji. That afternoon, Chloe posted nine photos in the group chat, all from the exhibition. One photo showed her and Ethan standing in front of a giant infinity mirror installation. The mirrors stretched their reflections out, making them look almost fused together. Her caption read: “This installation is so cool!” Ethan commented with a clapping emoji. I slid my phone under my pillow, curled up on my side, and stared at the blank wall. The heating pad on my stomach was warm, but I wasn’t on my period. I just didn’t want to play the third wheel anymore. On Monday at work, my coworker Amber dragged me into the breakroom. “Do you know what your boyfriend posted on his private Instagram account on Saturday?” “No,” I replied. She pulled out her phone, scrolled for a bit, and showed me a screenshot. It was Ethan’s post. It was a photo of the same mirror installation, but from a completely different angle. He had captured Chloe from behind as she stood in front of the mirrors, the golden hour sunlight catching her shoulders. The caption was just one word: “Light.” I stared at it for three seconds before handing the phone back to Amber. “Oh, yeah. He went to the gallery with my best friend.” Amber looked at me, hesitating. “With that best friend of yours?” “Yeah.” “Maya, don’t you think…” she lowered her voice. “If my boyfriend posted a photo like that of another girl, I would literally throw a fit. Are you seriously okay with this?” I forced a laugh. “It’s just a candid shot. You’re overthinking it.” “I’m overthinking it? If my man posted that—” “They’re just friends,” I cut her off. Amber stared at me like I was completely out of my mind. “Wait… did he hide his posts from you?” I froze. “What do you mean?” “Can you actually see that post on your feed?” She shoved her phone closer, pointing at the privacy settings of the post. “Try checking his profile on your phone right now.” I pulled out my phone and went to Ethan’s Instagram. His last post was from five days ago—a photo of a coffee cup with the caption “Overtime.” There was nothing else. He had blocked me from seeing that post. Amber’s expression turned incredibly sympathetic. “Well… just watch your back, okay?” That night, I opened my laptop and logged into an old email account I hadn’t used in a while. I searched for an email I had starred three months ago. The subject line read: Internal Transfer Opportunity: Design Director, Zurich Branch — Deadline: Dec 15. I clicked it and read through the requirements again. My degree matched, my portfolio was solid, and my English was perfect. All I needed was an employment verification letter and a recommendation letter within the month. I had six weeks left before the deadline. I opened a new folder and began updating my portfolio. Later that night, Ethan called to say Chloe was treating us to Omakase on Wednesday night. “Are you still busy this week?” he asked. “Very busy.” “Come on, let’s go on Wednesday. Chloe booked this place two months ago.” “You two go. I have a tight deadline on my project.” There was a long silence on his end. “Why have you been blowing us off lately? You missed the exhibition too.” “I’m genuinely busy at work.” “Then when are you going to be free?” “Once this crazy phase is over.” He didn’t press further. He just told me to get some sleep and hung up. I went back to working on my portfolio, staying up until 3:00 AM. The next day, the day after, and the day after that. For a whole week, I went straight home after work, declining every single invitation. Chloe texted me three times in the group chat, and each time I told her I was working late. On her third attempt, she sent a private message: “Are you avoiding me?” I replied: “Seriously busy, trying to submit a proposal by the end of the month.” “Fine! But once you’re free, you owe me a dinner. You have to come!” “Deal.” By the first week of November, I had secured my recommendation letter and my employment verification. My portfolio was compressed into a 73-page PDF. I uploaded all my documents to the internal portal and hit submit. The screen showed: Your application has been successfully submitted. I stared at the words and let out a long, deep breath. By the last week of November, the interview invitation arrived. Three rounds of video interviews. I took two days of paid time off and locked myself in my apartment. Ethan thought I was sick and offered to come over. “No need. I just need some rest.” “Should I bring you some soup tonight?” “No, I have food in the fridge.” “Chloe said she wants to come keep you company.” “No, please. I just want to be alone.” He finally stopped pushing. By the second week of December, the official offer letter arrived. Zurich Branch, Design Director. Start date: January 15. I stared at that email for ten whole minutes before quietly closing my laptop. Over the next two weeks, I put in my two-week notice, terminated my lease, and gave away my heavy furniture. I replied to Ethan’s texts normally, chatted in the group chat, and politely declined every hangout. Neither of them noticed anything. Because they had never really paid attention to my life anyway. At 4:00 AM on January 13th, I stood in the departures hall of JFK airport with my suitcase. The screen at the gate lit up: Flight LX 15, New York to Zurich, 06:35. I slipped off my phone case. Inside was a Polaroid photo of the three of us from last New Year’s Eve. Chloe was in the middle, throwing her arms around Ethan and me, laughing wildly. I looked at it for a second, tore it into four pieces, and threw it into the trash can. My phone buzzed. It was a scheduled text from Ethan: “Good morning, babe. Make sure to eat breakfast.” I read it, exited the chat, and opened Chloe’s chat. Her last message was from yesterday afternoon: “Are we hanging out this weekend? A new sake bar just opened.” I didn’t reply. The PA system crackled to life: “Final boarding call for Flight LX 15 to Zurich…” I stood up, grabbed my suitcase, and walked toward the gate.

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He saved his fiancée from the six-foot-deep pool, but he never once looked back at me. As the icy water rushed into my nose and throat, I saw him swimming toward the deck, holding Melanie Montgomery tightly in his arms. Before my consciousness faded into darkness, I heard someone screaming from the poolside. “Blood! Oh my god, there’s so much blood in the pool.” When I woke up, the doctor told me we arrived at the hospital too late. The baby was gone. Sebastian sat by my bed, his eyes bloodshot, whispering “I’m sorry” over and over again. I turned my face toward the window, looking at the grey sky, and whispered, “Did you feel sorry when you chose me to take the fall for her hit-and-run three years ago?” He didn’t explain. He just held me tighter. Outside the door, a maid sneered, “A housekeeper who’s a convicted felon… why is she still breathing our air?” I bit my lip and kept silent. The phone call I overheard between him and Melanie that morning was still vivid in my mind. “Don’t worry, Melanie. She’ll stay by my side like a good little dog for the rest of her life.” My fingers tightened around the crumpled piece of paper a cellmate had shoved into my hand before my release. “If you’re ever in trouble, find Gabriel Gray.” A cold shiver ran down my spine. It turned out that the “debt of gratitude” I thought I owed him for the past three years was nothing but a cage he had custom-built for me with his own hands. That night, I dialed the number. “Gabriel Gray? Can you get me out of here?”

Sienna POV I always felt like Sebastian’s golden canary. What I ate, what I wore, when I went to sleep. He managed everything. To keep me by his side without raising his family’s eyebrows, he even made me the resident housekeeper of the Sterling estate. By day, we were employer and employee. By night, he would quietly open my bedroom door. I would curl up in his arms, terrified of this intimacy yet craving it. Little did I know, my submissive, fragile act only fueled the dark obsession in Sebastian’s eyes. Outside, the faint voices of the maids drifted in. “Don’t you think Sebastian is way too good to that Sienna girl? She’s a felon, yet her clothes and shoes are bought according to Serena’s standards. Even her lingerie is personally picked by the boss.” “Well, I heard she graduated from an Ivy League art school. Three years ago, she killed someone in a hit-and-run. If Sebastian hadn’t taken her in out of pity, she’d be sleeping on the streets.” Their words felt like needles piercing my chest. My nose burned, and tears welled up. Sebastian saw my red eyes. He threw the door open, his voice freezing cold. “The Sterling estate doesn’t pay people to gossip. Pack your bags. You’re fired.” Then, he closed the door, pulling me gently into his chest, whispering soft reassurances. “I promised you, Sienna. I won’t let anyone hurt you again.” At that moment, my heart melted with gratitude. Three years ago, on the night of my college graduation party, I was completely out of it. When I woke up, the police were pinning me against the hood of my car. “Sienna, you are under arrest for driving under the influence and vehicular manslaughter.” I was terrified. I repeatedly explained that I wasn’t the one driving, but the traffic cameras, the eyewitnesses, and even my fingerprints on the passenger side of the luxury sports car all pointed at me. I had just received an offer from a top design school in Paris, a bright future I worked my butt off for four years to get. In one night, it was completely ruined. The court sentenced me to three years. My grandmother, who raised me, couldn’t handle the shock and ended up in the ICU. Only Sebastian stood by me. While I was in prison, he sent me packages every month, visited me regularly, and whispered through the glass: “Don’t be scared, Sienna. When you get out, I’ll take care of you.” On the day of my release, Sebastian came to pick me up. It was a rare sunny day. He wore a crisp white suit, holding a bouquet of fresh lilies, standing outside the prison gates with a gentle smile. “Come home with me. Work as a housekeeper at our estate first. No one will dare to make your life hard.” I knew everyone in the Sterling family opposed keeping a convicted felon around. Especially his younger sister, Serena, who thought a “criminal” like me stained their family’s reputation. But Sebastian fought his entire family for me for the first time. “Sienna is the one I chose to protect. Anyone who goes against her goes against me.” Remembering this, I leaned closer to his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, and fell into a deep sleep… I don’t know how much time had passed when a sharp voice woke me up. It was Serena, sounding as spoiled and arrogant as ever. “Sebastian! How long are you going to keep that charity case around? Melanie is flying back to New York next week. We grew up together. She is the only one I recognize as my sister-in-law!” My breath hitched. The blood in my veins turned to ice. Then, the deep, soothing voice I adored replied: “Sienna… she took the fall for Melanie, after all. I only keep her here to make up for Melanie’s guilt. Don’t worry, Serena. The lady of the Sterling house will only ever be Melanie.” Every single word felt like an icicle stabbing through my heart. The meticulous care, the sweet promises. It was all a sick lie. He was the one who ruined my life, only to play the savior and watch me crawl to him, kissing his hand in gratitude like a loyal dog. Forcing back my tears, my hands shook as I pulled a worn piece of paper from the back of my diary on the nightstand. It was the note the mysterious woman in prison had slid into my hand. Under the dim moonlight, I finally read the words clearly: “If you ever need help, directly contact Gabriel Gray.”

Sienna POV When I woke up the next morning, looking at my tear-stained pillow and the text on my phone that read, “I’ll pick you up in a month,” I knew it wasn’t a nightmare. I clenched my fists, my chest heaving. I needed to know what role Sebastian played in that setup three years ago. Was the evidence still out there? I refused to let them play me for a fool any longer. Right now, I had nothing. I had to play the long game. I had thirty days to gather whatever evidence I could find. After washing up, I walked down to the living room. From a distance, I saw Serena clinging to the arm of a woman in a stunning red silk dress, her long, wavy brown hair cascading down her shoulders. As I walked closer and saw her face, my feet glued to the floor. It was Melanie Montgomery. The woman who stole three years of my life. Back in college, she had targeted me multiple times simply because Sebastian smiled at me. I bit my lip so hard I could taste copper. Melanie caught me out of the corner of her eye. She stood up gracefully, her high heels clicking on the marble floor as she approached me. “Well, well. Isn’t this our Ivy League golden girl?” Melanie mocked, her voice dripping with venom. “I heard you couldn’t even get a decent job after graduation? Oh, my bad. I forgot you have a record.” Her features were undeniably gorgeous, but the malice in her eyes ruined it. “So you decided to leech onto Sebastian? Did you honestly think you could secure a ring by playing a maid?” My entire body went rigid. Seeing my silence, Melanie laughed. “How’s that trash-collecting grandma of yours? Why hasn’t she visited you?” She feigned shock, putting a hand over her mouth. “Oh, silly me. I forgot. You literally shocked her into a heart attack. She’s dead because of you.” I began to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly, a massive golden retriever rushed into the room, placing himself right in front of me, barking furiously at Melanie. “Ah!” Melanie shrieked, jumping back onto the sofa. Serena stomped her foot. “Sienna! Get this stupid dog out of here right now!” “Buddy, come here,” I whispered, my voice trembling. Buddy wagged his tail and nuzzled my hand. Melanie’s face turned pale with rage. She snatched a crystal vase from the side table and hurled it at Buddy. The glass shattered, and Buddy whimpered, blood instantly soaking the fur on his hind leg. I dropped to my knees, checking Buddy’s wound in a panic. “You bitch! How dare you set a filthy beast on me!” Melanie rushed over and slapped me hard across the face. The force spun my head to the side. My cheek burned like fire. Melanie raised her hand to strike again, but someone caught her wrist mid-air. “What is going on here?” Sebastian’s voice was calm, yet commanding. He looked at my swollen cheek, then at Melanie. Melanie instantly wrapped her arms around his neck, her voice turning sweet and helpless. “Sebastian… I just got back, and this horrible dog tried to attack me…” Serena chimed in, “Yeah, Seb! I told you we shouldn’t keep a stray. Anyway, forget about this. I booked a table at that French restaurant Melanie loves. Let’s go celebrate her return.” I tried to explain. “It wasn’t like that! Buddy was just…” “Sienna, be good. Wait for me to come back,” Sebastian cut me off, gently patting my head before walking out the door with Melanie. The heavy front door clicked shut. I stood in the silent foyer, my face throbbing. I wanted to laugh. His first love was back, so he couldn’t even bother to pretend anymore, huh? I wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, ignored the pain, and took Buddy to the vet. As the vet bandaged his leg, I knelt beside the kennel and whispered, “You have to get better, Buddy.” Because Buddy was the only thing in this godforsaken house that didn’t lie to me. It was pitch black when I got home. I lay in bed, drifting off, when I felt a cold hand gently touching my bruised cheek. I opened my eyes. It was Sebastian. His eyes were deep, his jawline sharp, his lips pressed into a tight line. I used to feel my heart flutter whenever I saw his face. Now, it only made me feel sick. “Sienna, I brought you your favorite strawberry cake.” He applied a soothing ointment to my cheek. “Melanie… she just has a bit of a temper. Once you get to know her, you’ll see she means no harm. You two can be great friends.” Friends? At that moment, my body went entirely numb, as if I had been plunged into freezing water. Because he loved Melanie, he could easily overlook the fact that she stole three years of my life? And now, he wanted me to play best friends with my abuser?

Sienna POV “Please leave. I want to rest.” This was the first time since my release that I had rejected him. Sebastian froze. But he quickly recovered his polite facade. “The firm is busy lately. Take care of yourself.” With that, he turned and left. I threw the pristine strawberry cake straight into the trash can. As I walked past the hallway stairs, Serena’s voice drifted up. “Seb, you literally left our dinner halfway through just to drive across town for Sienna’s favorite cake. Are you getting a little too into your ‘savior’ role?” “Serena!” Sebastian’s voice was sharp, laced with a rare trace of panic. “I am only doing this to compensate her. There are no feelings involved.” “Good. Because let me remind you, you and Melanie got engaged three years ago.” Engaged? I leaned against the wall, dizzy. While I was rotting in a prison cell, weeping for my dead grandmother, they were happily celebrating their engagement. And Sebastian never mentioned a single word about it. He even… A wave of nausea hit me. I gripped the banister, forcing myself to stay calm. Sebastian was a meticulous lawyer; he would never destroy key evidence easily. He had to have kept something to keep Melanie under his thumb. But where was it? Over the next few days, I used my cleaning duties to search every corner of his study and bedroom, but found nothing. Sebastian continued to have gourmet meals delivered to me daily. I quietly handed them over to the other staff. One afternoon, while I was stirring soup in the kitchen, a warm body pressed against my back, arms wrapping tightly around my waist. My muscles tensed. “Why haven’t you been replying to my texts?” Sebastian’s low voice brushed against my ear. I forced a smile and turned around. “I’ve just been busy with chores.” Sebastian tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “There’s an alumni charity gala tomorrow. Wear something nice. We’re going together.” “I don’t think I should…” “Be good, Sienna.” His voice was gentle, but his eyes were dead cold. I knew I couldn’t say no. Sebastian leaned down to kiss me, his hands sliding down my waist. I pushed him away abruptly. “I’m on my period.” Sebastian frowned slightly but let go. “Make sure you wear the dress I bought you.” The gala was held at the lavish Rosewood Manor, a clear display of Sebastian’s immense devotion to Melanie. Melanie wore a jaw-dropping red haute couture gown. The moment Sebastian walked in, she clung to him like a snake. I quietly found a seat in the furthest, darkest corner of the hall. “Sienna?” a mocking voice called out. It was Julian Kane, the notorious playboy from our college days who used to harass me. “Hey, everyone! Look who’s here!” Julian suddenly shouted, raising his glass. “Sienna, our former Ivy League goddess who got locked up for a hit-and-run, is now working as a maid for the Sterlings! If any of you need your toilets scrubbed, hit her up!” The room fell silent, followed by a wave of hushed whispers and pointing fingers. I bit my lip so hard it bled, my eyes burning with humiliation. Julian walked over, pinching my chin, whispering in my ear, “Why don’t you come to my place instead? I’ll treat you way better than Sebastian does.” The next second, his hand was violently slapped away. “Watch your mouth, Julian.” Sebastian stepped in front of me. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me out of the ballroom, using his silk handkerchief to furiously wipe my chin where Julian had touched me. “I’m sorry, Sienna. I wanted to bring you here to help you socialize… I’ll have the driver take you home first.” I nodded. For a split second, I actually thought he cared about me. But the memory of the setup quickly extinguished that spark. As I reached the exit, I realized I left my clutch in the hall. I turned back to retrieve it. “Nice touch with the knight-in-shining-armor act, Sebastian.” It was Julian’s voice coming from the balcony. I froze, hiding behind a marble pillar. Sebastian didn’t say anything, slowly blowing a puff of smoke into the night air. “Why did you have me do that? To make her cling to you even more? Or to keep up your image as the righteous defense attorney?” My heart stopped. Sebastian didn’t answer immediately. Maybe he felt I had been too distant lately. No tantrums, no looking at him, not even eating his cakes. He hated losing control. He wanted me to realize that without him, I was nothing but trash to the rest of the world. “Just do what you’re paid to do,” Sebastian said, stubbing out his cigarette. A cold sweat broke out all over my body. Even Julian’s harassment was orchestrated by him. Was anything in my life real? I covered my mouth, taking a step back in horror. My shoe hit an empty soda can, making a sharp clink. “Who’s there?” Sebastian’s voice cut through the dark, sharp and dangerous.

Sienna POV Fortunately, I managed to slip into the shadow of the hallway before he walked out. I took the side entrance back into the ballroom. As I picked up my clutch and headed toward the parking lot, a hand suddenly grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth with a chemical-soaked rag. I thrashed wildly, but the darkness quickly consumed me. When I woke up, my head felt like it was splitting open. My limbs were heavy, completely useless. From the adjacent bathroom, I could hear the sound of running water and a cheerful whistle. I recognized that whistle… it was Julian. Oh my god, no. I struggled to sit up, dragging my heavy body across the bedsheet. I lost my grip and fell off the bed, the sharp pain from the impact giving me a jolt of adrenaline. Hearing the thud, Julian walked out of the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist. Seeing me sprawling on the floor, a disgusting grin spread across his face. Rip. He pinned me down and tore open the collar of my dress. The cold air hit my bare skin. His damp, sweaty hands made my stomach turn. “Don’t touch me… get off!” “You think you can run? Sebastian’s had his turn, and you’re turning your nose up at me?” He slapped me across the face, sending metallic-tasting blood pooling in my mouth. “Sebastian will ruin you!” I screamed, using the only threat I had. Julian froze for a second, then sneered. “Melanie is back. How much longer do you think he’s going to keep playing with you? Today’s gala was literally his grand welcome-home gift to her.” Taking advantage of his distraction, I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the floor and shattered it over his head. Before he could recover, I kicked him squarely between his legs. He let out a blood-curdling shriek, collapsing to the floor. To keep myself from passing out, I picked up a piece of shattered ceramic and sliced my own forearm. The sharp pain cleared my foggy mind. I scrambled to my feet and ran out of the room. It was pitch black outside. The distant lawn lights of the manor were shining. Clutching my bleeding arm, I stumbled forward. It didn’t take long before I heard Julian’s angry shouts behind me. I dove behind a thick hedge, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My phone. My hands shook violently as I pulled out my phone, my blood smearing the screen. Call 911? No, the manor was miles away from the city center. The police wouldn’t make it in time. Who else could I call? I had no family, no friends. The only contact on my phone was Sebastian. I pressed the call button, praying. No answer. Once, twice. On the third try, the call finally connected. “Sebastian, please. I…” Before I could finish, the call was abruptly cut off. A wave of despair washed over me. I quickly sent a panic text to 911 with my location. The footsteps got closer. “Fuck! Where did that bitch go?” Julian roared. What should I do? I squeezed through a small gap in the iron fence, scraping my skin, and tumbled out of the manor grounds. Realizing Julian hadn’t followed me outside, the tension in my muscles snapped. I slumped against the brick wall, coughing up dust and blood. Suddenly, a loud boom echoed in the sky. Bright fireworks lit up the dark night. I stared at them, dazed. The last time I watched fireworks was with my grandmother. “Sienna, you’re graduating soon. Our lives will get better. I just hope my old heart holds up long enough to see you walk down the aisle,” she had said, holding my hand. My eyes burned. “Grandma, I promise I’ll make you proud.” In the sky, the fireworks blossomed in layers. On the ground, my blood dripped slowly into the dirt. One year, two years, three years… my youth had been flushed down the drain. Slowly, the fireworks formed massive red letters in the sky: WELCOME HOME, MELANIE. The sight snapped me back to reality. I dragged my battered body forward. There were people ahead. Under a massive oak tree in the distance, Melanie was smiling beautifully, tipping her toes to kiss Sebastian. I quickly turned away. I laughed, but tears streamed down my face. Pain was a suffocating net, wrapping around me tighter and tighter. How pathetic was I? I had actually looked for help from the very man who pushed me off the cliff. Even after learning the truth, I still hoped he would pick up. I still expected him to save me.

Sienna POV As I reached the main gate of the estate, two beefy security guards blocked my way. “An expensive item has been reported stolen. The venue is on lockdown. Please return to the hall.” I was “escorted” back into the bright, suffocating ballroom. The moment I stepped in, I saw Melanie crying softly against Sebastian’s chest. Serena stood on the stage, holding a microphone. “Melanie’s diamond necklace is missing. It was a gift from her father, worth five million dollars!” The crowd gasped and murmured. Julian’s voice drifted from a corner. “It must have been stolen. And we all know who the only convicted thief in this room is…” He raised his finger, pointing directly at me in the back. Every single eye in the room locked onto me. I kept my head down. The nightmare from three years ago was happening all over again. My dress was torn from my escape, and I was desperately clutching the fabric to cover my chest. “Sienna, what are you hiding?” Serena stormed over, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand down. I fought back. If I let go, my torn dress would expose me to the entire high-society crowd. “Enough!” Sebastian strode over, slipping his designer suit jacket over my shivering shoulders. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Melanie’s face contort with rage. “Sebastian! Why are you protecting this trash? She clearly stole it!” Serena snatched my clutch from my hand, shook it violently, and a sparkling diamond necklace fell onto the marble floor. “See! I knew it!” It finally clicked. Julian must have slipped it into my bag while I was unconscious. They didn’t just want to ruin me physically; they wanted to throw me back into a prison cell. Those disgusting monsters. “Once a criminal, always a criminal.” “I heard her grandmother was a beggar. No wonder she has sticky fingers.” Sebastian placed a hand on my shoulder, his voice perfectly comforting. “Sienna, I know you didn’t do it.” I gently pushed his hand away. I had trusted him too many times. Every single time, it was just another act. “Someone call the cops!” someone yelled. “No need,” I said, stepping back. “I already called them.” The grand double doors of the ballroom were pushed open, and two police officers walked in. Serena grabbed an officer’s arm. “This woman, Sienna, stole a five-million-dollar necklace! We caught her red-handed!” I clenched my fists. My grandmother always taught me to endure. But endurance had only brought me endless abuse. Not this time. “It wasn’t me. Check the security cameras.” Melanie laughed mockingly. “You clueless peasant, there are no cameras in Rosewood Manor. We value our privacy.” Indeed, everyone knew the estate bragged about having zero cameras to protect the privacy of the elite. I pointed to the massive crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. “There is one right there.” While in prison, an older cellmate once told me that the elite hid pinhole cameras inside the light fixtures of Rosewood Manor to keep tabs on their guests. The police called the manor manager to pull the footage. Within ten minutes, the video showed Melanie handing the necklace to Julian, who then slipped it into my bag. The police immediately escorted a pale Melanie and a cursing Julian out of the hall. Sebastian looked at me, his lips parted as if to say something, but he ultimately remained silent and followed the police out to handle the press. Back in my room at the Sterling estate. I lay in bed, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. I looked at my phone screen again and again. “I’ll pick you up in a month.” Just two more weeks, and I would be free from this hell. Buddy jumped onto the bed, his warm tongue licking the tears from my cheeks. I wrapped my arms around his neck, burying my face in his thick fur. “Buddy,” I whispered, my voice cracking. “Just a little longer. We are leaving together.”

Sienna POV Three days later, Sebastian returned. I had just finished searching the second-floor rooms when I saw Melanie sitting comfortably on the living room sofa. My heart sank. How was she out so fast? Melanie looked up, a smug smile playing on her lips. “Surprised? Thanks to Sebastian, the police ruled it as a ‘prank gone too far.’ Just a slap on the wrist.” My hands shook. I had forgotten. He was the city’s most brilliant defense attorney. “Sienna,” Sebastian walked in from the foyer, his voice soft. “Melanie knows she made a mistake. I brought her here to apologize to you.” Melanie put on a fake pout. “I even cooked dinner to make it up to you.” Before I could refuse, Sebastian took my hand. “Come on, let’s eat.” The dining table was filled with expensive dishes. I had zero appetite. I just wanted this farce to end. As I cut my steak, I noticed Melanie staring at me, a sickening grin on her face. My heart stopped. “Where is Buddy?” Melanie tilted her head innocently. “Who’s Buddy?” I threw my chair back and ran downstairs. The dog bed was empty. I ran through every room, screaming his name. Nothing. Silence. I stumbled back into the dining room, my knees giving out as I collapsed onto the floor. “What did you do to Buddy?” Melanie smiled like a sweet child. “Isn’t he right there in your stomach?” Something snapped inside my brain. A violent wave of nausea hit me, and I dry-heaved repeatedly onto the hardwood floor. “Ahhh!” I screamed, my hands slamming against the floor over and over again. My palms turned red and bruised, but I couldn’t feel the pain. I remembered the day I got out of prison. Buddy had run to my feet, wagging his tail. I begged Sebastian to let me keep him. Sebastian had smiled, helped me build a doghouse, bought him birthday toys… it was all a lie. “Sienna.” Sebastian knelt down, trying to pull me into his arms. “I didn’t know she would do this. I’ll buy you another dog…” I pushed him away with all my strength, standing up by clutching the edge of the table. “Buy me another one?” I laughed, tears streaming down my face. “Sebastian, you are a heartless monster.” After that day, I fell severely ill and couldn’t leave my bed. Whenever Sebastian came to check on me, I treated him like air. Until I saw the news on my phone: Melanie Montgomery had won the prestigious Golden Daffodil Award using my design portfolio. I dragged my weak body to Sebastian’s study. “Are you feeling better?” Sebastian looked up, completely unfazed, as if he knew I would come. I forced my voice to remain steady. “My portfolio. You gave it to Melanie, didn’t you?” Sebastian walked over and stroked my hair. “Sienna, be reasonable. A portfolio in the hands of a felon is worthless. Giving it to Melanie ensures it actually gets put to good use.” Good use? My mind flashed back to the hidden compartment I had found in his closet. “Sienna.” Sebastian buried his face in my neck, his voice dripping with dark obsession. “Don’t ignore me. I hate it when you treat me like a stranger.” Suppressing the urge to vomit, I wrapped my arms around his waist. “Okay.” From that day on, I went back to being his obedient, quiet girl. While Sebastian was away at court, I slipped into his master bedroom and opened his closet. I tried his birthday, Melanie’s birthday, my birthday. None of them worked. Finally, I entered the date of my arrest three years ago. Click. The compartment popped open. Inside lay a digital voice recorder. With trembling fingers, I pressed play. Melanie’s panicked, crying voice filled the room. “Sebastian, I hit someone. There’s so much blood. You have to help me.” Before the recording could finish, familiar footsteps echoed outside the door. “Sienna, what are you doing in here?”

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