My sister and I were reborn. It happened on the exact day our parents finalized their divorce. This time, she sprinted straight toward our father, crying a river of tears. “Dad, take me with you!” She shot me a look that failed to hide her smug triumph. She wanted to trade lives with me? She only saw me rising from the ashes like a phoenix, completely ignorant of the grueling strength it took for me to crawl out of that blazing inferno. I smiled. I laughed at her wild delusions, and I smiled with the profound relief of a massive weight lifting off my shoulders. 1 I opened my eyes, my head spinning as I stood there. I looked down at my worn-out white sneakers. Wait a minute. Wasn’t I just at Harper’s wedding? Didn’t she trick me into helping her with her dress, only to shove me off a fourth-floor balcony to my death? I opened my hands, staring in disbelief at my perfectly intact body. Was I… reborn? Harper’s sobbing voice echoed in the room: “Dad, take me with you!” We really were back on the day of our parents’ divorce. I snapped out of my daze and looked up. Harper shot me a look full of barely concealed triumph. She wanted to trade lives with me? Perfect. That was exactly what I wanted. Harper had been driven mad with jealousy over my life in our previous timeline. In that life, she went with Mom, and I went with Dad. She was lazy, refused to study, ignored everyone’s advice, and ended up eight months pregnant, having a cheap backyard wedding in a rural, run-down town. I, on the other hand, attended her wedding on the arm of the aloof, wildly handsome billionaire, Rowan. Dressed in an elegant, custom gown, I stepped gracefully out of a luxury car. When she pushed me over the railing, her eyes glowed with pure, venomous envy. “Go to hell! This is all your fault! You stole Dad! If you hadn’t, I’d be the one standing there married to a billionaire!” Because I was wearing heels and a long dress, I couldn’t move fast enough. I could only grab onto her tightly, refusing to let go. Amidst the screams of the guests, we plummeted off the balcony together. She truly believed that as long as she chose our father, she would automatically become the main character of a beautiful, glamorous life. No, she was dead wrong. She only saw my glittering exterior. She had no idea how much blood and sweat I spent clawing my way out of that hellhole. What I envied most in my past life was the freedom of an ordinary, mundane existence. Thanks to her, in this life, I finally get to cherish it. Harper’s desperation to cut ties infuriated our mother. Harper scoffed, “Why would I go with you? So I can end up as a high school dropout working minimum wage?” Mom clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. “You… you ungrateful… get out!” I stepped in front of Mom, my face cold as I glared at Harper. “Mom gave up everything for us, and this is how you speak to her? You’re heartless!” Harper had the nerve to laugh. “What does Mom matter? I’m going to have a brand-new mom soon. She’s young, beautiful, and rich—a thousand times better than her!” Perfect. That was exactly the reaction I needed. I needed Mom to hear Harper’s true thoughts so this toxic mother-daughter bond would shatter completely. I wanted to leave Harper with zero escape routes. Sure enough, Mom grabbed a decorative vase and hurled it at the wall near her. “Get out! From now on, Stella is my only daughter. I have nothing to do with you anymore.” Harper dodged easily, rolling her eyes. “Following you just means a life of manual labor. Have fun barking like a junkyard dog.” Smack! I lunged forward and slapped her hard across the face. “You actually hit me?” She covered her stinging cheek, her anger mixed with absolute shock. Without a second word, before anyone could react— Smack! A matching red handprint appeared on the other side of her face. Damn, that hurt. My hand was completely numb. When dealing with someone like Harper, physical action is the only language she understands. Wasting time talking is pointless. In our past life, she pushed me off a building and killed me. These two slaps were just a welcome gift for our new lives. Infuriated, Harper screamed and lunged at me, trying to tear at my clothes. Our dad, Marcus, quickly stepped between us, not forgetting to scold me. “Stella, I am so disappointed in you. How could you treat your sister like this?” I shot back instantly, “Is what I did worse than what you did? You cheating piece of trash!” His face drained of color. His lips moved, but for a long time, he couldn’t form a single word. Mom chimed in at the perfect moment: “Both of you, get out. The garbage collectors are coming soon.” Pfft. I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Mom was incredibly strong. Even at a time like this, she still had her sharp sense of humor. Before leaving, Harper didn’t forget to flaunt her victory. “I’m going to take back everything that belongs to me! Stella, just wait for your karma!” I didn’t care at all. Right back at you, sister. Just like in our past life, Marcus left with nothing. He left the tiny, outdated, two-bedroom apartment to Mom. Since he had hooked a young, wealthy heiress, he naturally didn’t care about this dump. Harper, who in the past life threw massive tantrums refusing to let our dad remarry, was now offering her most devout blessings for his new union. Little did she know, this was the beginning of her absolute nightmare. That new woman had a twenty-year-old brother with severe violent tendencies, locked away in their basement. But right now, Harper didn’t know a thing. 2 I didn’t tell anyone about my parents’ divorce, but somehow everyone in my class found out. They looked at me with probing, curious eyes, whispering behind their hands. The class representative, Paige, couldn’t stand it anymore. She stood up and slammed her hand on her desk. “Shut up! Every single one of you! If you have time to gossip, go memorize some vocabulary! Did you all ace the midterms or something?” Paige was fiercely righteous and handpicked by the homeroom teacher, so everyone was a little afraid of her. The crowd sheepishly fell silent, returning to their seats and burying their heads in their books. Paige walked over to me and patted my shoulder. “Stella, you got first place again on the midterms. I’m going to work even harder for the finals and close that five-point gap between us!” I waved my vocabulary booklet at her and smiled. “Let’s work hard together!” Paige lowered her voice. “About your family…” Her expression was full of disapproval. “It was your sister who told everyone. She told everyone in her class that your parents split up, and you’re basically not family anymore. So if she comes looking for you later… “Ugh, I don’t even know how to say it. Just… keep your guard up around her.” I nodded sincerely. “I will. Thank you, Paige.” It turned out that when the midterm honor roll was posted at the school gates, some of Harper’s classmates teased her. “You two have the same parents, but you’re miles apart. Your sister is a genius.” She furiously shot back, “Who is family with her? Our parents divorced ages ago! We have nothing to do with each other. Don’t ever mention her name to me again, it’s bad luck!” Harper’s grades had always been terrible. She was lazy, arrogant, and incredibly vain. No matter how much our mother pleaded with her, she refused to glance at her textbooks. If it weren’t for that, she wouldn’t have ended up working in an Amazon warehouse in our past life. In this life, she eagerly accepted the wealthy stepmother’s gifts—designer clothes from head to toe. Her vanity only multiplied. Once, between classes, Paige went to the teachers’ lounge to hand in assignments and saw Harper being lectured. When Paige came back, her expression was complicated. “Your sister is really something else. “Her math teacher was breaking down her weak spots and advising her to do more practice problems. Do you know what she said? “She said, ‘I’m going to study abroad anyway, so my grades don’t matter. Only snobs like you care about test scores.’ “The math teacher was so furious he said he’d never teach her again. “All the other teachers gave her terrible reviews too. They said having a student like her is pure bad luck.” I smiled, completely unbothered. “Sounds exactly like something she’d do.” That idiot. She hadn’t even secured her footing in high society, and she was already acting like royalty. Alienating her mother at home, offending her teachers at school. Whatever. Her life had nothing to do with me anymore. All I needed to do was focus on studying and get into the best advanced placement class in the school. And, I needed to make absolutely sure I never crossed paths with Rowan again. In our past life, to the outside world, I was the object of his intense, overwhelming affection. But only I knew the truth. I was just a songbird trapped in a gilded cage, completely stripped of my freedom. I had no privacy, no friends. Every single action was strictly monitored by him. I was isolated on an island he meticulously carved out for me. Whenever he traveled for business, I could be eating breakfast and receive a call from him. “Stella, drinking milk on an empty stomach isn’t good for you.” I would look up, spotting the tiny red light of a hidden camera blinking in the darkness. 3 In my past life, looking at my approachable, youthful stepmother, I often wondered why she chose to be with my father. Not only that, she specifically demanded that my father bring one of his daughters to be her stepdaughter. Until one night, I heard someone quietly unlocking my bedroom door. Half-asleep, I felt someone leaning over my bed, staring at me. I tried to pry my heavy eyelids open, comforting myself that I was just imagining things. But then, a wave of hot, foul breath hit my face, immediately scattering my exhaustion. At the same time, hands started roughly grabbing at my clothes. I snapped my eyes open in horror and fumbled for the bedside lamp. The light revealed a strange man with a deeply unsettling, manic grin. Terror clamped around my throat like an invisible hand. I couldn’t even scream. I just kicked out as hard as I could, but the next second, he bounced right back onto me like a rubber ball, his hands violent and bruising. From the living room, I heard the sound of my dad’s slippers as he came out to get a glass of water. Like grasping at a lifeline, I screamed toward the sliver of light under my door, “Dad! Help!” The footsteps moved closer, and then… they stopped. I heard my stepmother’s gentle voice: “It’s fine. Tommy is just playing rough with her.” My dad calmly replied with an “Oh.” He even added a lecture for me: “Tommy is sick. You need to accommodate him. Don’t hurt him.” The living room light clicked off, plunging the space back into darkness. Extinguished right along with it was every shred of hope in my heart. He knew everything. That woman didn’t marry him out of love. She married him—and demanded a stepdaughter—out of a twisted, sick, selfish desire. She figured my dad was a pushover, easily manipulated. She planned to lock me in this house, letting her violently unstable brother use me as a punching bag and whatever else he wanted, keeping the “problem” entirely in the family. Because of the massive difference in physical strength, I struggled desperately. The man suddenly stopped, sitting up in surprise. Like a completely different person, he gently wiped my tears. He smiled, a dark, unpredictable look in his eyes. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill you yet. I’ll wait until you’re eighteen. Then we can play forever!” He glanced up at the smoke detector on the ceiling, its tiny light blinking, and his smile deepened ominously. “Actually, from the moment you laid down in this bed, I’ve had my eye on you.” Boom— Something in my mind collapsed completely, crumbling into ruins. From then on, I kept a heavy metal flashlight under my pillow. Before going to sleep, I checked the reinforced locks on my doors and windows a dozen times. Most importantly, I covered the smoke detector with clothes until it was completely blocked. Finally, I barricaded the door with my dresser and desk. One night, Tommy managed to break the window lock and crawled into my room. I screamed, swinging the heavy metal flashlight wildly. I struck him hard, right in the groin. He collapsed into the mess on the floor, crying and laughing with that bizarre, chilling grin. He really was a complete psychopath. It was Rowan who helped me escape that house completely. Due to the severe psychological toll of those terrifying nights, my grades plummeted a month before the college entrance exams. Amidst the sighs of my teachers, I failed to get into the Ivy League school I wanted and went to a second-tier local university instead. That was where I met my classmate, Rowan. He had money, and he had his own demons. When he lost control, he cared about absolutely nothing. For ten million dollars, he paid off my father’s mounting debts and had my father and stepmother practically pack me up and deliver me to his private estate. When I turned eighteen, Rowan officially brought me out into the world—under the title of his fiancée. I thought I had escaped the devil’s grasp, but I had only fallen into another, gilded cage. Rowan was deeply unwell. He was paranoid, dark, and every cell in his body radiated an intense, suffocating possessiveness. 4 In my past life, our last public appearance together was at Harper’s wedding. The groom was dangerously thin and had a shifty, rat-like face. His ill-fitting suit hung loosely on his frame, a giant, tacky red flower pinned to his lapel. His mother shared his exact facial features, though she was short and stout. She looked overjoyed, chatting with guests while spitting sunflower seed shells everywhere. Harper stood under the brutal sun, eight months pregnant, her heavy, overly-rouged bridal makeup doing nothing to hide her awkwardness. She stood lost amidst the noise. She had dropped out of school at sixteen, went out to work, and became one of the millions of warehouse workers for Amazon. On the assembly line, there was a guy named Tyler who made no secret of his attraction to her. Harper originally looked down on him, but the attention from the opposite sex satisfied her vanity. Ignoring our mother’s advice and strong opposition, she moved in with Tyler. Then, she accidentally got pregnant. Under Tyler’s relentless pleading, she kept the baby. At the clinic door, she remembered Tyler’s promises and refused to go in. “Mom, Tyler said he’ll marry me! I can’t get rid of this baby!” “You’re only eighteen! You have your whole life ahead of you. This Tyler guy has no money, no looks, and his mother hasn’t even come to see you once since she found out you were pregnant. You’ve completely lost your mind!” Harper argued back, “Tyler said his mom respects me a lot. She promised to give us an eight-thousand-dollar wedding gift.” My mom’s face darkened significantly. “Is eight thousand dollars a lot? Are you really that desperate to marry into his family?!” They parted on terrible terms. Tyler’s mother arrived from the countryside carrying a massive load of cheap luggage, squeezing into the tiny apartment Harper and Tyler shared. She wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Harper, don’t worry. From now on, I’ll be your new mom!” Harper looked at the “nutritious meal” Tyler’s mom served her: instant ramen with a cheap hot dog, a fried egg, and two sad leaves of lettuce. She felt a mix of complicated emotions. Her pride wouldn’t let her back down to our mother. She touched her stomach, thinking: Everything will get better. But as her belly ballooned, her mother-in-law never mentioned the eight thousand dollars again. The cheap, outdoor barbecue wedding in the rural town was loud and dusty. Harper twisted a cheap, thin gold bracelet on her wrist—one her mother-in-law had borrowed from a neighbor—eagerly waiting for her family to arrive. A fleet of ten luxury black SUVs sped toward the venue, the guests whispering in obvious envy. “That’s a huge motorcade. Who’s got that kind of money?” “Look, they’re slowing down. Are they here for this wedding?” “Did Tyler meet some rich friends working in the city?” … The sleek, aggressive luxury sedan came to a smooth stop. A dozen bodyguards stepped out instantly, lining up in two rows, opening the doors for Rowan and me. A young woman screamed, “Oh my god! Rowan Vance! That super-rich tech CEO!” “Wow, he’s so handsome! Way better looking in person than in the magazines!” Some girls whispered, “The woman next to him must be his fiancée.” “She looks so elegant! No wonder he doesn’t date models.” “I love a guy who doesn’t hide his relationship and is completely devoted!” The older folks didn’t recognize him, but hearing he was a billionaire, they quickly pulled out their flip phones to take pictures. I wore a simple, elegant gown. With Rowan’s gentlemanly guidance, my delicate ankles in diamond-encrusted heels stepped gracefully out of the car. The surrounding crowd gasped. “So beautiful, like an angel came down to earth!” “Those clothes, that car… they look incredibly expensive. I didn’t know Tyler’s family had connections to high society.” “But his wife doesn’t look like she comes from money at all.” “Hey! Look closely. The woman getting out of the car looks a little like the bride. Could they be sisters?” “You’re right! I heard the bride has a sister who’s three years older. But their parents divorced. The older sister went with the dad, and the younger one went with the mom. The dad is a university professor, you know!” “Tsk, standing next to each other, you can’t even tell the age difference. The older sister looks ten years younger than the bride.” “Exactly! If the younger sister had gone with her dad back then, maybe she’d be the one living the high life right now!” … The crowd’s gossip wasn’t hidden at all. Every word landed in Harper’s ears. Her face flushed bright red, glaring fiercely at her mother-in-law and husband nearby. They were both wearing fawning, sycophantic smiles, eager to go over and network with Rowan and me. 5 During my freshman year of high school, my parents’ marriage fell apart. My dad was a teacher. He gave people the impression of being cultured and refined. He wore thick-rimmed glasses and always dressed in earth-toned casual wear. My mom’s educational background was far less impressive. Because her family was poor, despite having excellent grades, she was forced to drop out of middle school and go out to work at a young age. Whenever we went back to her hometown, my grandmother would always specifically warn her: “Be good to Marcus! His family didn’t look down on you. That’s a blessing for you!” Harper and I could never understand how two people from such vastly different worlds ended up together and built a family. On New Year’s Eve, my dad had a few too many drinks. With his face flushed red, amidst the cheering of Harper and me, he confessed his love to my mom. “Honey, if you hadn’t encouraged me and paid for my college tuition, I wouldn’t be where I am today…” My mom was as shy as a teenage girl, her eyes red as she rested in his alcohol-scented, loving embrace. A week later, my mom caught my dad hugging a young woman on the street, the two of them kissing passionately at a red light. My mom, stubborn and resilient, immediately filed for divorce. Using the excuse that I was older, she chose to take Harper. She knew Marcus spent less time with Harper and secretly favored his younger daughter. She intentionally went against his wishes. “Stella, what are you thinking about? You’re so spaced out.” Rowan leaned close to my ear, his breath ambiguous, carrying his unique, cold cologne. I snapped back to reality and smiled at him. “Nothing.” Tyler’s mother’s eyes darted around. “Oh, it’s the sister-in-law! Please, have a seat.” Tyler looked at the car we arrived in, clicking his tongue in admiration. “That car must be incredibly comfortable to drive.” His mother smacked the back of his hand. “That’s nothing. Harper’s sister is your sister. She’d definitely let you borrow it for a few days, no problem.” Rowan scoffed coldly, sweeping a disdainful gaze over them. Tyler immediately pinched his mother’s arm, mouthing at her to shut up. I looked up. On the red carpet, Harper looked haggard and bloated. She forced a smile, dragging her heavy body slowly toward me. “Sister, you look beautiful today. Did Dad…” Rowan, a man of few words, cut her off. “He couldn’t make it.” Harper’s face went bone white. Since our parents divorced, we rarely contacted each other. I was attending the wedding as my father’s representative. She suddenly spoke up. “Sister, there’s something wrong with my dress. Can you come help me adjust it?” After all, we were sisters. I followed her up to the fourth floor. The rural, self-built house was spacious but completely unfinished due to lack of funds. The walls were bare concrete, and there were no railings installed on the balcony, leaving it open to the wind. Harper insisted on pulling me outside to chat. “It’s stuffy in the room. Let’s sit outside. Even though there’s no railing, the view is nice…” The next second, her face changed. Her eyes shot absolute venom as she shoved me violently toward the edge. “Go to hell! This is all your fault! You stole Dad! If you hadn’t, I’d be the one standing there married to a billionaire!” Because I was wearing heels and a long dress, I couldn’t move fast enough. I could only grab onto her tightly, refusing to let go. Amidst the screams of the guests, we plummeted off the balcony together. Like everything was playing in slow motion, I caught a glimpse of Rowan’s ever-calm composure completely shattering. He was panicked, terrified, even throwing his arms open as he sprinted forward, trying to catch me. This was fine. I was finally escaping him. I resigned myself to my fate and closed my eyes. … 6 I sat at my desk, looking out at the vibrant green oak tree through the window, lost in a daze for a moment. There was only one month left until the high school entrance exams. In my past life, focusing entirely on studying without distractions was an unreachable luxury. But now, the desire to change my destiny through education was at its absolute peak. My mom knocked on the door and walked in holding a plate of freshly sliced fruit. Her eyes were filled with maternal ache. “Here, have some fruit. You’ve lost weight these past few weeks. Studying is important, but your health is more important. You need to balance work and rest.” In her past life, she was a woman trapped by love, eventually consumed by resentment. In this life, she was a mother whose heart and soul were devoted entirely to me. Honestly, I had to thank Harper for her heartlessness. She gave me a chance to start over, and she gave my mother the courage to break free from her cage. Yesterday is gone, tomorrow is not yet here, but today requires everything I have. Keep moving forward, never look back. Finally, the last exam ended. The moment I walked out of the testing center, I felt a massive weight lift off my shoulders. With the faint memories of my past life and the grueling hard work of this one, the exam papers felt like a walk in the park. The cicadas in the trees chirped loudly, celebrating the summer. My mom saw my relaxed expression and instantly let out a sigh of relief, walking over with a popsicle she had timed perfectly. “You must be boiling. Here, have a popsicle.” I took it and opened the wrapper. “Let’s share.” That summer break was fulfilling and joyful. During the day, my mom and I ran a stall selling dried goods. When there were no customers, I opened the books I brought from home. When my mom had a chance to sit down, she would lean in and read with me. When the exam results came out, my score was far above the cutoff, and I easily got into the high school’s advanced placement program. Nina called me. “Oh my god! You are incredible! A near-perfect score! I concede total defeat this time.” I laughed and replied, “You did amazing too! Only ten points behind. We’re going to be classmates again.” The summer was fiery and bright, making everything feel full of hope. When a person is filled with hope for the future and motivated to push forward, they don’t feel the exhaustion or the struggle. Carrying a heart full of excitement, I began my first week as a high school student. A week into the semester, I ran straight into Harper in the cafeteria. She looked incredibly tense, her eyes bloodshot and slightly bulging. Not wanting to engage with her, I turned to leave. “Stop right there!” Her voice, fueled by rage, echoed behind me. Noticing the strange looks from people around us, she frantically grabbed me and dragged me outside. She pulled me to the empty athletic field. Harper glared at me viciously. “You did this on purpose! You deliberately set me up to jump into a pit of fire.” Me: “???” Harper gritted her teeth. “That woman has a psycho brother in the basement! He’s always wandering around near me, it’s terrifying.” I was completely speechless, rolling my eyes straight to the sky. “What does that have to do with me?” Harper scoffed. “Let’s trade back. I want to go live with Mom.” I let out a long, sarcastic “Eww,” dragging the syllable out. Harper: “That woman said she actually likes you better.” She continued, lost in her own logic: “Anyway, you survived in that house just fine in your past life, so you definitely have more experience. Give Mom back to me.” I practically spat at her. “How thick is your skull?” I turned around sharply, absolutely refusing to entertain her nonsense. Arguing with someone whose brain is that diseased was just breathing in the scent of sheer stupidity. That night after late study hall, I saw Harper standing at my apartment door. The weather was getting colder, and my mom had started a side hustle selling hot food from a food cart. I put my keys back in my pocket and stepped back warily. “What are you doing at my house?” Harper was shamelessly brazen. “This is my house too.” I sneered. “You made it crystal clear back then that you were cutting all ties with us.” She bit her lip, guiltily looking down at the floor. Me: “Wait here if you want. Bye!” I turned and headed down the stairs, intending to go wait for my mom to finish her shift. Harper followed me like a stray dog. “I’m going with you!” Afraid she would ruin my mom’s mood, I chose a different route.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “438319”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

My name is Stella. The day before my eighteenth birthday, I received my acceptance letter to Yale University. On the day the early admission results came out, my home phone and my cell phone blew up with notifications. I sat alone in my dark bedroom for three hours. Then, I unlocked my phone and blocked every single person in a specific contact group. The group name was bluntly titled: Orbiters. Yes, in my eighteen years of life, I had never truly been in a relationship. My time and energy, apart from being buried in textbooks, were entirely dedicated to learning how to string along and manipulate these orbiters. And, of course, studying how to marry rich. I remember my freshman year. I was taking a walk by the lake with my wealthy boyfriend, Noah. He was three years older than me, but a few calculated words from me had him blushing profusely. Frustrated, he pinched my cheek and interrogated me through gritted teeth: “Stella, you’re so good at this. Just how many boyfriends have you had?” “Not a single one. Do you believe me?” I raised my eyes to look at him. Slowly, I traced his palm with my pinky finger, my gaze open and deeply affectionate. “Noah, all these years, I was only waiting for you.” I was telling the truth— Those orbiters were just practice targets. My actual romantic history was a blank slate. Young men always want to be the first conqueror of uncharted territory, and Noah was no exception. As expected, he was deeply moved by my words. He pulled me into his arms, cupped my face, and kissed me deeply, promising to treat me right for the rest of his life. He was the boyfriend I had meticulously schemed to catch, and he was also the so-called “scumbag” who cheated on me and broke my heart a year later. But he would never know that from the very beginning to the bitter end of our relationship, I was the sole puppet master. Even his infidelity was carefully orchestrated by me after I had already moved on to my next target. 1 When I was little, my mom always told me: a woman can be poor, but she must be beautiful. However, she can’t just be an empty shell; she needs brains and ambition, too. My mother was a fiercely ambitious woman. From a young age, she forced me to study relentlessly to get into a top-tier Ivy League school. And getting into an Ivy League wasn’t about securing a white-collar corporate job; it was about climbing the social ladder to find a wealthy man. In her eyes, society was cruel. Class stratification was a relay race. The ancestors and fathers who ran faster had simply secured a better starting line for their descendants. The best university in the country naturally gathered the offspring of the wealthiest, most connected, and highest-status people in the country. Only the lowest tier of gold diggers fantasized about finding true love in a nightclub. I was different. The battlefield she tailored for me was the top university in the nation. On campus, everyone dressed casually. The wealthier they were, the lower their profile. We all ate in the same dining halls and lived in the same dorms. Therefore, as a freshman, my criteria for filtering out the rich kids came down to one thing: Their hobbies. The more cash-burning the hobby, the wealthier the family. All I had to do was infiltrate the circles that hosted these expensive hobbies. It was actually quite easy—just join the right clubs. My first target was Noah, the president of the Photography Club. The first time I saw Noah was during the club’s admission interviews. I deliberately wore an off-the-shoulder top. My freshly washed, long hair draped down to my waist, creating an innocent yet alluring vibe. The interview took place in a classroom, with several upperclassmen acting as judges. When the others asked me questions, I answered fluently with a bright smile. But the moment it was his turn, I feigned nervousness and intentionally stumbled over my words. The “you are different” signal was so obvious that several upperclassmen couldn’t help but tease him: “Hey Noah, are you staring at her too fiercely?” Noah raised his eyebrows, looking a bit innocent, and asked me, “Do I look fierce?” I just tilted my head and blinked at him, remaining silent. That made him uncomfortably shift his gaze first. When the interviews ended, he stood in the center of the room talking to people. I deliberately lingered behind. When the other freshmen had mostly left, I clutched my notebook and went up to ask him questions. My notebook was filled with neat, meticulous notes of every word he had spoken. As I lowered my head and leaned in, my damp, freshly washed hair emitted a wave of crisp grapefruit scent right into his face. I had spent an entire night scrolling through his entire Twitter feed and found an old Reddit AMA he did where he mentioned his favorite fruit was grapefruit. Moreover, in a Q&A about irresistible traits in women, he had admitted his biggest weakness was a subtle, lingering fragrance. I prescribed the exact medicine he needed. Freshmen always have a halo effect. Seniors are naturally curious about the new girls. Even if my tactics were only worth a B-minus, the “freshman buff” bumped it up to an A-plus. As I was leaving, I specifically told him, “Noah, my name is Stella. You have to remember me.” My interest was expressed bluntly and passionately. Any guy with half a brain would know what to do next. Sure enough, when I woke up the next morning, I saw a friend request from Noah on Snapchat. Everything was going smoothly. I almost jumped out of bed screaming. Yet, my response to his friend request was— I left it pending. Ignored. 2 When dealing with men, I believed the most effective strategy was the carrot and the stick. A woman’s initiative can soothe a man’s ego, but satisfaction must be strictly moderated. Once he gets a taste of sweetness, you have to let him starve for a bit. Men are born hunters. Provoking them and then running away is the ultimate seduction. I intentionally ignored his friend request for days. On the third day, I received a mass text from the Photography Club secretary about our first outing. The location was Central Park. I dressed up meticulously again, wearing a trendy preppy outfit—a cropped sweater, a pleated tennis skirt, white knee-high socks showing just a sliver of thigh, and my hair in twin pigtails. Despite the sweet, innocent outfit, I didn’t carry a cute little point-and-shoot camera. Instead, I lugged a massive, incredibly heavy telephoto lens. Contrast creates shock value. Dressed like that amidst a sea of tech-bro guys, I inevitably became the center of attention. The only person giving me the cold shoulder was Noah. I glanced at him several times, but he refused to look at me. I thought he was sulking and decided to add fuel to the fire, flirting and joking with other guys right in front of him. After the photoshoot, we had a group review session. As president, he was supposed to critique the newcomers’ work. When Noah walked over to me, I obediently handed him my camera to check my settings. He didn’t move. He just stared at me with a probing gaze. After a moment, a mocking smirk touched his lips. What? What was happening? Shouldn’t he be jealous?! That look made me panic. I kept my head down, pretending to fiddle with the camera. The camera belonged to the club, and I barely knew how to use it. I accidentally pressed the wrong button, and the screen flashed to the gallery grid. In the gallery, aside from a few landscape shots, every single other picture was of Noah. I froze, my face instantly flushing crimson red. Um, yes. In order to flirt with him later, I had spent the entire morning secretly photographing him. I never expected it to be exposed right here. It was an accident, and I was genuinely, incredibly embarrassed. Noah froze too. The mocking smile on his face stiffened, turned to shock, and then transformed into pure shyness. I had spent the whole morning talking to other guys, seemingly ignoring him, but the photography guys all knew one truth: The camera lens is a person’s most honest eye. The only person I had been focusing on was him. We stared at the camera screen in silence for ten seconds. I took a deep breath before I dared to steal a glance at him. His lips were pressed tightly together, the red flush on his ears only halfway faded. He put on a cold face, expertly switched the screen back to the original menu, and began seriously critiquing my settings. When he finished, my face was still burning, and I looked dumb and dazed. Noah glanced at me and said coldly, “Phone.” I obediently pulled it out. He snatched it with a dark expression, typed in his own number, tossed it back into my arms, gently pushed my forehead, and ordered: “Add me when you get back.” Oh. I foolishly rubbed the spot on my forehead he had touched, knowing in my heart: I had already won half the battle. Regarding why I didn’t accept his friend request immediately, I deliberately called him later to earnestly explain that I had met too many people as a new student and simply missed his request in the flood of notifications. Noah just gave a faint “hmm.” A moment later, he added slowly, “Oh. You know, at the time, I thought you were playing hard to get. I was wondering if this little freshman was actually super manipulative.” Hearing that, I practically bristled like a cornered cat, panicking about how to defend myself. Thankfully, he sighed and continued, “But you’re so clumsy, you even got caught red-handed secretly taking pictures of me…” Only then did I realize he was teasing me. My reaction speed kicked in, and I immediately sounded wronged: “Noah, you actually thought I was manipulative? That’s a really serious accusation against a girl. I need compensation!” He was caught off guard by the pivot. “What kind of compensation?” I tilted my head, my sugary-sweet voice flowing through the phone right into his ear: “Just… compensate me by saying goodnight to me for a whole month, okay?” He chuckled, his voice gentle, and didn’t refuse. Everything that followed fell into place perfectly. Noah texted me every day, and before bed, he would call me for ten minutes to say goodnight. The calls naturally grew longer and longer. He was a junior, a New York native, graduated from a top prep school. His worldly knowledge and perspective were leaps and bounds ahead of mine. But my ability to control him relied on one simple weapon: lust. He treated me well. His family was wealthy, owning a luxury penthouse in Manhattan. On weekends, his parents would send a driver to pick him up. I took note of the car model, quietly researched it, and found it cost over a hundred thousand dollars. That seven-figure real estate asset was warmer than his hugs and more thrilling than his kisses. We really did share some wonderful times together. Unfortunately, reality soon dumped a bucket of ice water on my head. I realized that the finish line I believed in was merely the first step of a ten-thousand-mile marathon. Putting aside the fact that Noah might just be looking for a casual college girlfriend with no long-term plans, my growing experience and social climbing skills taught me a harsh truth: If I wanted to truly elevate my social class, a family like Noah’s—comfortably upper-middle class but nothing spectacular—was only fit to be my stepping stone. Three months into our relationship, the honeymoon phase passed, and I met Carter. Noah called him “Boss.” That day, Noah and I were holding hands on a walk when a strikingly handsome guy approached us. I couldn’t help but take a second look. Noah stopped, looking pleasantly surprised, and greeted him, “Boss!” Carter smiled at us, his gaze lightly sweeping over my face before looking at Noah. “Hey, Noah.” Our eyes met briefly as we passed each other, but I could feel that this “Boss” was far from ordinary. Sure enough, the next second, Noah lifted his chin, staring at Carter’s almost radiant back, and sighed with unprecedented admiration: “Now that is a true golden boy. Compared to his family, we’re all just regular peasants.” 3 Noah’s words were like a dark cloud blotting out all the pink bubbles in my world. I suddenly sobered up: I studied relentlessly, got into an Ivy League, and schemed my way to the top, all just to date a boy from a “regular peasant” family? Is this what I called success? I felt deeply unsatisfied. During that sleepless night, I sat in my dorm, lips pressed tightly together, staring at Carter’s Instagram profile on my laptop. Carter was the president of the Mountaineering Club. He was a senior, majoring in finance. He was refined, with a very cold aura. He was pale, with features handsome enough to be an actor—the textbook definition of a young girl’s dream guy. A man like this, you could guess with your eyes closed, had a mountain of girls chasing him. I later found out that our university’s Mountaineering Club was famous. Anyone who made a name for themselves in that club was a wealthy, powerful young elite. I blamed my own naivety—girls who really knew what they were doing would never look for rich heirs in the Photography Club; they knew to aim high at the Mountaineering Club. But Carter had a girlfriend. Her name was Valerie. She was the goddess of the Management School. Rumor had it she was a true socialite from a family of high-ranking government officials. Anyone could see they were a match made in heaven. Well, life isn’t a cheesy romance novel. I wasn’t the main character, and Valerie wasn’t the evil step-sister. If I were him, I would also choose the girlfriend whose family matched mine perfectly. I logically and dejectedly closed my laptop, telling myself to stop daydreaming. But that night, I dreamt of Carter. I dreamt that I actually became the Cinderella from the fairy tales and successfully married the prince. The next time I saw Carter was on a weekend. Noah dragged me out of bed early in the morning to go hiking in upstate New York. I agreed half-heartedly, barely throwing an outfit together, not even bothering with makeup. Yawning as I reached the campus gates, I saw the group standing next to a massive SUV—and woke up instantly. What?! Carter is here?! So we’re hiking with Carter’s group?! I immediately glared at Noah, whispering frantic complaints: “Why didn’t you tell me other people were coming? I would have dressed up!” “It’s just friends. Besides, you look beautiful without dressing up,” Noah smiled gently down at me, his finger twirling the ends of my hair. We looked intimate. I felt self-conscious and stole a glance at Carter. I saw his gaze resting on Noah’s finger and my hair, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. The next second, he looked away, opened the car door, got into the passenger seat, and said quietly, “Everyone’s here. Let’s go.” Valerie and her friends were in another car. They arrived ten minutes after us. First, I saw a Mercedes G-Wagon, and then I saw the long-legged beauty hop down from the driver’s seat. My chest instantly churned with jealousy. I knew Valerie’s photos were beautiful, but I didn’t expect her to be even more stunning in person. Her aura was impeccable. When she spoke, she was incredibly gentle. Just standing there, she was a goddess. I later learned that in Noah’s dorm, whenever Valerie’s name came up, the guys all looked dreamy-eyed. If someone got a ‘like’ from Valerie on Instagram, they’d screenshot it and brag about it for days. I had to admit, she was absolutely not the arrogant, mean girl from the novels. She was the true leading lady. She smiled generously at me, warmly took my hand, and said, “Stella, right? I’m Valerie.” In front of her, my inferiority complex made me want to sink into the floor. I had bad grades at school and very few friends. My entire freshman year, I had spent most of my time and energy trying to find a rich boyfriend. My goal was to be an accessory. And my only reason for standing here today was because I was Noah’s new girlfriend. Valerie was the center of attention everywhere she went. Everyone revolved around her. They chatted with her, joked with her, and asked her opinions. Even surrounded by admirers, she would subconsciously seek Carter’s gaze between sentences. After making eye contact, she would purse her lips in a smile before turning back to the conversation. On one hand, I tried to join the conversation; on the other, I couldn’t help but secretly record Valerie’s tone and way of speaking on my phone. A person’s background can be seen in their speech. I couldn’t have her background, but I could mimic how she spoke. It felt like if I got closer to her, I could get closer to that kind of life, and closer to… Carter. It was right then that I noticed a gaze— Carter. I stiffened. He was looking at me with a half-smile. Suddenly, he took out his phone and pointed at the ‘Recording’ icon on his screen. He knew I was recording?! My face flushed burning hot in an instant. But he acted as if nothing had happened and looked away. I was distracted for the rest of the day until I got home. Noah didn’t notice anything wrong with me. I hurriedly said goodbye to him, rushed back to my dorm, and buried my head under the covers. My heart was pounding in my ears. Only then did I dare to carefully recall the moment when we were setting up the tents. Carter had seemingly intentionally pulled me away from the group to talk to me: “I noticed you spend more time looking at Valerie than your own boyfriend,” he suddenly leaned into my ear and started the conversation. I realized then that it was just the two of us. I couldn’t help but straighten my spine, my fingertips pressing hard into the tent canvas. I lowered my eyes, refusing to look at him: “So stingy. People aren’t allowed to look at your girlfriend?” “She’s not my girlfriend.” He paused, then lowered his voice, speaking in a breathy whisper: “I don’t even like girls like her. I prefer…” He suddenly stopped. And the tips of my ears turned bright red. I didn’t dare respond to his unfinished sentence. I only knew his gaze was fixed on my right ear, which was red enough to look cooked. He stared until I couldn’t bear it anymore, then unexpectedly reached out, took off my right earring, placed it in his palm, studied it for a moment, stood up, and left me with: “Noah gave this to you, right? I like it. Confiscated.” … My heart was still racing. My ear still longed for the warmth of his fingertips. Under the covers, it felt stiflingly hot. My trembling hand touched my empty right ear. I remembered earlier in the day when Valerie asked me why I was missing an earring. I had looked panicked and clumsily explained that I accidentally lost it. When everyone started joking that the earrings Noah bought were bad quality, I secretly glanced at Carter. I saw a fiery, dark glint in his eyes. I was still naive back then, not understanding human nature. I mistakenly thought everyone’s imagination and understanding of love were identical: demanding loyalty, purity, and eternity, favoring excellence, sunshine, and positivity. But later I learned that the more people have and the more they experience, the less loyalty, purity, and eternity excite them. Even though Carter was only 22, the only things that truly interested him were— Stimulation and taboo. 4 Carter’s actions sent my imagination into overdrive. He gave me an illusion. Things I only dared to dream about suddenly had a tangible possibility in real life. Maybe the domineering CEO falling for me from the novels actually existed? I was seduced. I started wanting more. My ambition and desires expanded little by little. But he never spoke to me again. Every late night, I involuntarily searched for every piece of information about Carter, hoping to find a chance to see him again. He was like a key that could unlock the door to my desires, my future, and my everything. Carter’s class schedule, the libraries he frequented, and the Mountaineering Club’s weekly activity times could actually be dug up from the campus forums. He had too many fangirls. Girls from the economics department, other majors, and even neighboring universities were constantly trying to track him down. It’s just a pity they never practically applied the theories from their economics classes: only asymmetric information yields profit. Information that is fully known to everyone has zero value. Meaning, only the hardest-to-dig information was gold. So I started digging from other angles to find places Carter might frequent but didn’t want people to know about. For instance, I dug into his friends’ Yelp reviews, Twitter, and Reddit accounts. Finally, under a tweet from his roommate last year, I found a reply from Carter. Carter replied: “Haha, nice.” And the location tag was a niche, underground cosplay maid lounge, a half-hour subway ride from campus. As the name implies, it was a place where waitresses wore French maid outfits to satisfy the fantasies and demands of patrons. So, Carter likes this kind of stuff? I searched online and found out this lounge was hiring part-time waitresses. Because it was so far from campus, it was almost impossible to run into anyone I knew. I gritted my teeth, made up an excuse to Noah, and decided to apply. Everything went smoothly. The only thing that wasn’t smooth was that I worked there for a whole month and didn’t see a single hair on Carter’s head. I realized then that relying solely on theory wasn’t enough. The winners in this world all need that 1% of luck. Just when I was about to give up, finally, a familiar face appeared in the lounge. Carter!! I almost couldn’t believe my eyes. He seemed a bit surprised the moment he saw me. He quickly recovered, greeted the owner, and then stopped looking at me. That’s it? I felt a bit disappointed, but I absolutely couldn’t lower myself to go hit on him directly. I kept my head down and worked. Not long after, a pair of brogues approached me. He stared at the top of my head for a long time before his familiar, deep voice finally spoke: “Does Noah know?” My hands didn’t stop wiping the table. I warned myself not to panic. After building up my mental defenses, I finally looked up. I don’t know where I got the courage, but I tilted my head and answered his question with a question: “Do you want him to know?” He asked the question as Noah’s friend, teasing me about working at a maid lounge, but he didn’t expect me to drag him in as a co-conspirator. He gave me that ambiguous, half-smile again, took two steps closer, gently tapped my shoe with his toe, looked down, and asked: “Stella—that’s what Noah calls you, right? Stella, when are you here every week?” He cut straight to the chase. “Tuesdays and Thursdays.” I lifted my head entirely. Once we made eye contact, I didn’t know why, but I felt bewitched again and blurted out: “If I’m here, can I wait for you?” He smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up: “Tsk. Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays you accompany Noah. Tuesdays and Thursdays belong to me. Is that how I should understand it?” My face was burning hot! I didn’t expect him to say that. I thought he was going to mock my promiscuity. I was incredibly embarrassed and was just about to argue back—when I saw Carter pinch my cheek, lean in, and whisper in my ear with an ambiguous, husky voice: “Sharing. I like it.” “…” I froze on the spot. Only then did I realize how twisted Carter was. The face of an angel, the hobbies of a devil. But I tried my best to gather my surprise and panic, desperately pretending to be worldly. I pursed my lips and forced myself to continue: “Then I… I’ll wait for you on Thursday.” He was amused by my reaction, laughed twice, and walked away. My heart was thumping, feeling like every beat was slamming against my chest. I stared at his retreating back in a panic, unable to describe my feelings: happy, surprised, relieved, scared, worried… incredibly complex and messy. I took a deep breath, pushing away the guilt towards Noah, and buried my head in wiping the ashes off the table with a rag. It was as if I was struggling to scrub away the mold slowly spreading across my soul. But the mold on Carter’s soul was definitely worse than mine. I slowly began to understand the look in his eyes when he tore off my earring during that hike—predatory and curious, his mind craving taboo. I finally realized that the thrill of a secret affair was the greatest emotional value I could provide Carter. He had had enough of those pure, excellent, and sunny girls. Having been the golden boy in the spotlight for too long, Carter liked the dark; he liked damp, hidden temptations. He also saw at a glance that I was absolutely not the open, optimistic Valerie with no secrets. I was the kind of girl who secretly recorded people, ambitious, devoid of a bottom line, and full of scheming, my heart overgrown with dark, unseeable moss. And he liked moss. His habits were also very unique: every time he came, he would treat me like I was invisible, sitting alone in a private room drinking tea, not even calling for service. After a while, he would suddenly appear behind me, gently blow on my ear, then suddenly wrap his arm around my waist, affectionately pinch my chin like a lover, and always ask one question: “Hmm? Has Noah ever done this to you?” Or: “Do you like it better when I do this to you, or when he does it?” … His hot breath sprayed against the back of my neck. And these words didn’t actually require my answer. I slowly discovered that as long as I acted shy, coy, conflicted, and guilty, while suppressing my joy and impulse… in short, exhibiting all the reactions that fit the “cheating” scenario, it would get him into character and make him full of excitement. He liked me more and more. The time we spent secretly together grew longer. He would hold me and sigh: “Stella, right now I wish I could be with you every day.” Most of the time, my mind was very clear, but sometimes, I inevitably got caught up in the act. The maids in the lounge all wore clogs, but he liked it when I took off my shoes and socks, walking barefoot on the floor of the private room, and then ordered me to run a lap around the room until my feet were covered in dust. Then, he would make me sit in front of him. He would hold my ankle and admire the soles of my feet with an almost intoxicated expression. He said a woman’s most beautiful part was her feet, and he especially loved the way a woman’s soles looked when they got dirty. Shattered beauty is a tragedy, and Carter loved all tragedies. The most thrilling time was when we were in his private room. He was rubbing the soles of my feet when suddenly voices came from outside— It was Carter’s friends, the same group from the hiking trip! My scalp instantly went numb. I instinctively tried to pull my foot back to hide. But Carter tightened his grip. We were separated from the outside by only a thin sliding door. If those people just stepped closer, opened the door, and everything was exposed, my reputation would be completely ruined. I was more worried than I had ever been. My heart was racing, I was trembling with fear, but I failed to notice Carter had leaned in close, his lips against my ear: “Stella, are you scared?” He spoke very quickly. I finally noticed his eyes—they were glinting with excitement. Only one thought remained in my head: I absolutely cannot ruin his mood. My breathing was unsteady, but I looked at him as firmly as I could and slowly shook my head. In that exact moment, Carter smirked, abruptly slid the door open, and greeted the group outside: “Hey.” I almost jumped out of my seat. The gap wasn’t wide, just enough to show Carter’s face, a sliver of my skirt, and my calf wearing a white thigh-high sock. It looked incredibly suggestive. “Want to come in and sit?” Carter raised his eyebrows, offering an invitation. I stopped breathing. My brain buzzed, thinking he was serious. Thankfully, the guys outside didn’t know Carter’s temper well enough. Being tactful, they just said hi, laughed, and walked away. The door closed again. Only when their footsteps faded did Carter lower his eyes to laugh at me: “You’re shaking like a leaf. Still not scared?” Saying that, he stood up, patted my head like he was petting a small animal, and casually left me with: “By the way, Noah was in that group just now.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “438318”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I time-traveled five years into the future. I’m married to my now highly successful ex-boyfriend. And I’m carrying his child. But he seems to hate me. When I took the initiative to cook, he refused to pick up his fork: “What kind of drug did you put in the food this time?” When I offered myself in bed, he sneered: “Trying to get me aroused so you can shove another woman into my bed again?” When I told him we should just live happily as a family of three… This man instantly turned into a wronged puppy: “Are you still trying to use this child to humiliate me?” Good lord, don’t tell me the kid isn’t his either? 1 Last night, Liam tossed and turned me until the early hours of the morning. The insatiable bastard. He nearly took half my life. “Liam!” I bossed him around out of habit: “Pour me a glass of water.” But for a long time, no one answered. The silk sheets slipped off as I sat up, revealing a slinky slip dress. After tossing so hard last night, there wasn’t a single mark on my body. Wait— I stared at my lower abdomen in shock. What was this slight bulge? Am I… pregnant? The room was incredibly unfamiliar, decorated in a white and gray palette, with luxury evident in every detail. But I clearly remembered. Last night, Liam and I were in his cramped, rented apartment. A rickety wooden bed that squeaked all night along with his rough movements… 2 In a panic, I instinctively dialed Liam’s number. “What is it?” He sounded so cold. I bit my lip, feeling panicked and wronged. “Where are you?” “The office.” “The auto repair shop?” There was a pause. Liam’s voice came through the line, chillingly cold. “Are you planning to make a fuss about my past again?” “What past?” I was utterly baffled. “Don’t you work at the auto repair shop?” “And last night we were clearly in your apartment, how come today…” “Beep…” Before I could finish, I heard the busy tone. Liam had actually hung up on me. That bastard! I cursed him resentfully. Just as I was about to call back, my eyes caught something on the screen. 2030… Is it already five years later? I stared stiffly at my bulging stomach, belatedly realizing that I might have time-traveled five years into the future. And I was pregnant. There was an old photo on the nightstand. A brightly dressed me, and Liam wearing a sleeveless tank top, looking ruggedly handsome. After calming my emotions, I called him back. “Liam, we’re married, right?” “How many years have we been married?” “How did my dad agree to let me marry you?” I desperately wanted to know what had happened in these five years. However, Liam seemed to have misunderstood something. He let out a bitter laugh: “Olivia, are you trying to tell me you regret it again?” “This is the third time this month you’ve brought up divorce.” He paused: “I’ve said it before, I will not agree to a divorce.” 3 “Who wants to divorce you?” I was astonished. With Liam’s face, his physique, his jackhammer-like stamina, and the fact that he seemed quite wealthy now… How crazy would I have to be to want a divorce? It was very quiet on the other end of the line. So quiet that I could even hear his breathing suddenly accelerate. A long time passed. He said faintly: “Suit yourself.” Before I could speak, the phone was hung up again. Seriously, how is this man so temperamental now? Probably spoiled by me. You can’t spoil men. Knowing that I was in my own home, the anxiety weighing on my heart finally settled. I prepared to change my clothes and go downstairs. Opening the closet, I froze instantly. A riot of colors. Each style more vulgar than the last. Tsk. Did future-me really have this kind of taste? I reluctantly picked out a relatively plain dress, put it on, and shuffled downstairs in my slippers. Unexpectedly, I ran into a familiar face downstairs. “Martha?” I was overjoyed. Martha had been a housekeeper for my family for over twenty years. In an unfamiliar future, meeting someone close to me made me feel incredibly grounded. “Perfect timing,” I affectionately linked my arm with hers. “I’m planning to cook a meal for Liam myself.” “With you teaching me, I’m confident.” Martha’s expression was a bit complex. She hesitated, then softly advised, “Miss, are you… planning to torment Mr. Sterling again?” Torment? Thinking about my atrocious cooking skills… That word wasn’t an exaggeration. She wanted to say more, but I cut her off. “I know Liam.” “Even if it tastes awful, he’ll force himself to finish it.” 4 In the kitchen, I beat around the bush and asked about the past five years. Five years ago. I ignored my family’s objections and married Liam. After getting married, to give me a better life, Liam quit his job and started his own business. Although my dad openly looked down on this poor son-in-law, he secretly provided a lot of support during the early stages of his startup. And Liam indeed lived up to expectations. In five years, he went from a poor kid to a rising star in New York. According to Martha. Liam’s current assets and status far exceeded my dad’s. “It’s just…” Martha helped me put the chicken soup on to simmer, hesitating to speak. “Miss, have you and that Carter guy… not broken it off yet?” “Carter?” I stirred the vegetables in the pan and casually asked, “Who’s that?” Martha was clearly stunned. “Your… boyfriend.” I nearly choked on my saliva. We exchanged a look. “I cheated?” Martha nodded, heartbroken. “He’s also a mechanic. You insisted on a divorce no matter what, you wanted to…” Before she could finish her sentence. Footsteps came from outside the door. Martha stopped talking instantly. I turned around and saw the Liam of five years later. Dress pants wrapped around the man’s long legs, his shirt cuffs neatly buttoned to the second button—mature and uninhibited. He had lost some weight. His features looked even sharper. Even though I already knew the man opposite me was my legal husband, I still blushed a little at how handsome he was. “You… you’re back.” “Mm.” So cold. But thinking about it, it made sense. Since I cheated on him with a younger guy, it would be weird if he gave me a good attitude. Taking a deep breath, I put on a smiling face, bracing myself to clean up the mess left by my future self. “You must be tired. Go wait for me outside, dinner will be ready soon.” Liam’s gaze swept over the apron loosely tied over my slightly bulging stomach. His tone was flat. “Not hungry.” Saying that, he turned on the kitchen’s ventilation system. And turned to leave. “Liam!” Holding a spatula, I stepped forward and couldn’t help acting coy. “Dinner will be ready in a minute, and it’s all your favorite dishes.” “Just try a little, okay?” “Not hungry.” Liam turned and walked out the door. Martha, standing next to me, asked cautiously, “Miss, should we… still cook these?” I sighed, “Yes.” 5 Dinner was ready. Four dishes and a soup, all home-cooked meals. Liam, who had claimed he wasn’t hungry, still sat down at the dining table. I thought to myself, I have a chance, and quickly put a shrimp into his bowl. “Miss.” Martha whispered a reminder from the side, “Mr. Sterling is allergic to shrimp.” Crap. I immediately took it back. And replaced it with a piece of braised pork. But Liam refused to pick up his chopsticks. He leaned back slightly, watching me with a calculated look. “Spit it out.” “What kind of drug did you put in the food this time?” I was stunned. “I didn’t…” Liam interrupted me with a mocking tone, “You’ve cooked twice this year. Once you put laxatives in the food, and the other time sleeping pills.” “Just because I wouldn’t agree to a divorce.” “Olivia, what drug is it this time?” I looked at him in astonishment. I couldn’t defend myself. “I really didn’t drug it.” To prove it, I frantically picked up a piece of meat and stuffed it into my mouth. “There’s really no poison…” “Ugh—” Liam’s face darkened, and he actually reached out to dig it out of my mouth. He said gruffly, “I’ll eat it, okay?” “Even if it’s poisoned, I’ll accept it. You don’t have to go this far.” I pushed him away and swallowed the piece of meat whole. “It’s really not poisoned, it’s just… a little gross.” It had a strong, gamey meat smell. Liam looked at me for a good while. Then he sat back down. I don’t know if it was an illusion, but it seemed like he curled his lips slightly. Liam finally picked up his chopsticks. I carefully observed his expression. Sure enough. The moment the food entered his mouth, despite his usual perfect expression management, he couldn’t help but frown. But he had lived through hard times. Even though it tasted awful, he still ate almost everything. Seeing that he was in a good mood, I struck while the iron was hot. “Liam, I’d like to talk with you tonight.” The hand holding the chopsticks stiffened. “I don’t have time.” His expression turned cold again. He put his chopsticks down heavily. “I have to work late tonight. Whatever it is, we can talk about it later.” 6 I sat at the table, resting my chin on my hands, lamenting my bitter fate. A five-year memory gap. How is this any different from losing five years of my life? And I still had to clean up the mess for my future self and grovel to win my husband back. Liam, now a domineering CEO, was also moody, changing his face faster than turning a page in a book. I sighed. Martha hesitated and asked, “Miss, are you… still planning to bring up divorce with him tonight?” I was stunned. “You thought I wanted to talk to him about divorce tonight?” “Is… isn’t that it?” Martha murmured in astonishment, “For the past year, you’ve been dead set on divorcing him. Every time you see him, you either force him to sign the papers or persuade him to let go.” I remembered Liam’s ugly expression just now. So. He suddenly changed his face and insisted he was busy tonight, just because he was afraid to hear me bring up divorce again? What an idiot. 7 Liam worked in the study until late into the night. Just as I was dozing off while waiting, footsteps sounded outside the door. Stepping through the hazy night. He stopped outside the door. My sleepiness vanished instantly. I got out of bed holding my pillow. Opened the door. And met Liam’s fragile, astonished gaze. He froze for a moment and slowly put away the unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Liam.” I called him softly. He gave me a complex look, his face dark as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I’m very tired.” He paused. “Whatever it is, we’ll talk tomorrow.” Saying that, he was about to leave again. I gritted my teeth and followed him, holding the pillow with one hand and hooking my other arm through his. Liam stiffened. I looked up at him. “I don’t want to sleep alone. I’m scared.” He turned his head away. And rejected me again. “I was working tonight. I’m very tired.” “I won’t move around,” I promised sincerely. “I’ll just sleep next to you and do nothing.” “I won’t bother you.” Liam didn’t speak. But his Adam’s apple bobbed quietly. “Suit yourself.” Holding my pillow, I happily followed him into his room. What a bland room. He’s a CEO, after all, but aside from a bed and a closet, there was nothing else in the room. Hmm. There was also an old photo of me on the nightstand. I was about to take a closer look, but Liam was quick and shoved it under his pillow. “Having nightmares lately.” “Putting a photo by the bed wards off evil spirits.” So stubborn, still so stubborn. Liam lay down with his back to me, acting as if he was ignoring me. I hesitated for a moment. Then I just hugged his waist and pressed against him. But the next second, my hand was thrown off by him. Liam turned around, moonlight falling on his face, his expression sorrowful. “Olivia.” “Are you trying to arouse me again so you can shove another woman into my bed?” He closed his eyes, suppressing his surging emotions. “You’ve pulled these stunts so many times, just to leave me and go find him?” I was completely stunned. My heart ached, and I suddenly felt a little bad for Liam. What exactly had I done to him over the past five years? I didn’t know how to explain, so I carefully took his hand. “Liam, will you trust me? I don’t want a divorce.” “We have a baby now. From now on, the three of us will live a good life together, okay?” But my words seemed to hit Liam’s sore spot completely. He pushed me away, trembling. The sorrow in his eyes was so heavy it was almost overflowing. “Olivia, are you still trying to use this child to humiliate me?” Humiliate? I suddenly remembered Martha’s hesitation, and a bad premonition arose in my heart. Damn it. Could this child… really not be Liam’s?

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On my seventh day tutoring Tyler Sterling, I dreamed of the future. In the dream, two years later, Tyler would pin my wrists down. He would press me against his desk and kiss me senseless. Startled awake, I didn’t know how to tell Tyler about this. Because right now, he was coldly telling his friends about me: “I hate Olivia. If every other woman in the world died, I still wouldn’t like her.” 1 The first time I met Tyler, I knew he was trouble. I stood at the door of the Sterling family’s mansion and knocked: “Hello, I’m the new tutor.” No answer. The door was slightly ajar, so I pushed it open. By the time I realized something was wrong, it was too late. A bucket of water fell from above, soaking me to the bone. Immediately after, I heard the arrogant laughter of several young people: “Look, she fell for it!” “Chloe, that was a great idea.” The girl named Chloe raised her head, proud as a peacock. But she ignored everyone else. She just looked up toward the second floor: “Tyler, was that awesome or what?” A boy stood on the second-floor landing. I have to admit, I’ve never seen such a beautiful boy. Pale, striking. When he looked down, there was a trace of rebellious arrogance in his eyes. His thin lips curled into a cold smirk, and he said, “Boring.” 2 “Are you Tyler Sterling?” I asked. “Yeah.” “Are these your friends?” “Yeah.” I pulled out a tissue and wiped my face: “I’m the live-in tutor your dad just hired for you. My name is Olivia Miller. You can call me Ms. Miller, or just Olivia.” Tyler let out a soft scoff. He clearly didn’t accept my presence. But I wasn’t angry at all, even though my hair was dripping wet. I walked with steady steps up to the second floor. The laughter around me died down. “What’s going on? Why isn’t she crying?” “She must be in shock.” “Holy crap, she’s actually going inside. Didn’t the last few tutors run away crying immediately…” I walked straight up to Tyler: “Thank you and your friends for the welcome gift. I’ve prepared a little surprise for you too.” I unscrewed the cap of my Yeti thermos. And poured the entire thing over Tyler’s head. Every last drop. Tyler was stunned. 3 Not only was Tyler stunned. His rich, snobby friends were also dumbfounded. The mansion fell dead silent. Chloe was the first to shriek: “Are you crazy?! How dare you do that to Tyler? Do you know that someone like you, a broke college student, the Sterling family could crush you like a bug!” “Oh, almost forgot about you.” I picked up my soaking wet canvas tote bag and hurled it hard. It hit the little princess, Chloe, squarely. I knew who she was. The heiress to the Vance Corporation. Her family was as wealthy as the Sterlings, and she grew up with Tyler. Rumor had it they might end up in an arranged marriage. But none of that had anything to do with me. I was here to be a tutor, not a slave. Whoever bullied me, I hit back. Chloe had never suffered such an indignity and started screaming. I simply pulled out my phone and started recording a video. “What are you doing!” “Letting Chairman Sterling see who’s interfering with his son’s tutoring.” Chloe shut her mouth in panic. She knew her family’s business still needed the Sterling Group’s support; she was terrified of the Chairman. “If there’s nothing else, I’m going to unpack my luggage.” I turned back to Tyler. He was now just like me, his hair completely wet, water dripping down. After three seconds of silence, the corners of his mouth suddenly curled up: “What was your name again?” “Olivia Miller.” “I’ll remember you.” “You better not forget.” 4 Tyler was four years younger than me. He was a certified slacker; his SAT score was a solid 800. A score that perfectly matched his vibe. Chairman Sterling wanted to send him abroad, so he sought out top tutors to help him with his English and SAT prep. At first, they hired native speakers. Unfortunately, Tyler was too unruly and chased them all away. Out of desperation, the job finally fell to me. Although I was still a student, I had aced my SATs and was top of my class as an English major. It was summer break, and the dorms were closed. To make the daily tutoring more convenient, I had to move in and live with Tyler. That afternoon. I walked past Tyler’s game room. The door wasn’t fully closed. The conversation was crystal clear. “Ty, this new tutor is pretty interesting.” “She’s also pretty hot, hehe.” “Are you blind?” Chloe was in a terrible mood. “She reeks of poverty, and you call that hot?” “Yeah, yeah, she’s nothing compared to you, Chloe. I bet she won’t last the month before she quits.” Tyler, who hadn’t chimed in, suddenly spoke up: “I bet three days.” 5 I soon learned why Tyler was so confident. He indeed came up with a terrible idea. The next evening. According to the schedule, I went to Tyler’s room for his lesson. He wasn’t at his desk, but the sound of the shower came from the bathroom. I asked, “Are you showering?” “Yeah, almost done.” “Then I’ll come back later.” “Wait a minute,” Tyler was unusually polite. “I forgot to grab a towel. It’s on the bed; could you please hand it to me?” He stuck a hand out through the crack in the door. I noticed his pinky finger looked limp, as if the bone was broken. I didn’t think much of it and turned to grab the towel: “This gray one? Catch—” I didn’t even finish my sentence. Tyler suddenly grabbed my wrist. And yanked me completely inside. The bathroom was filled with steam. Tyler was shirtless, a towel loosely wrapped around his waist. He wasn’t even twenty yet, the prime age for loving all sorts of sports. Therefore, even if he didn’t have a gym habit, He was lean and evenly muscled, with lines that were ridiculously good-looking. I was somewhat dazed by his good looks. Suddenly, there was a knock on the outside door. The housekeeper said, “Young Master, the fruit is washed. I’m bringing it in.” I instantly understood Tyler’s intention: “You deliberately had the housekeeper bring fruit at this time so she would catch me ‘barging into’ your bathroom, right?” Tyler said, “You’re very smart. “The housekeeper will tell your parents, and then they’ll replace me. “Yes. Do you like this second gift?” “Thank you, I love it.” Tyler smiled, thinking his plan had succeeded. But the next second. I reached out and touched his chest: “Then I won’t hold back.” 6 Tyler froze completely. He absolutely hadn’t expected this. The pads of my fingers gently caressed him. From his chest muscles all the way down. Along with the water droplets that hadn’t been dried yet, sliding down to his abs, and then to his V-line. My fingernails occasionally grazed his skin. Tyler would tremble as a conditioned reflex. His youthful body had a unique leanness. But without lacking the power of an adult male. It was a perfectly balanced sexiness. Below the V-line, he was wrapped in the towel. With a little force, the towel would fall off. Tyler was still in a daze, but his body had already given an honest reaction. For example, ears red as blood. And then, under the towel… “Tyler, do you want me to help you change into a new towel?” My voice was very soft. Just like a feather tickling him. At this moment, the housekeeper outside was getting anxious: “Young Master? Are you not in the room? Then I’m coming in…” “Don’t come in!” Tyler blurted out. The housekeeper had just pushed the bedroom door open, but quickly closed it again: “I left the fruit at the door. I’ll go back to work.” The footsteps gradually faded away. Only then did I let go of him and resume my cold demeanor: “Trying to play games with me? Did you really think I was a pushover?” 7 After this battle, Tyler’s anger toward me reached its peak. There were many reasons for his anger. For example, shooting himself in the foot. Or, because I pulled away so quickly, leaving him standing there looking stupid. I even heard him tell his friends: “Before, I didn’t know what kind of girls I hated the most. “Now I know. It’s the Olivia kind. “Saying I’m playing hard to get? Screw that! If every other woman in the world died, I still wouldn’t like her!” Fortunately, he quieted down for a few days and didn’t provoke me again. The unexpected happened on the night of the seventh day. I went to sleep as usual. But I had a very strange dream. In the dream, there was another me, pinned against a desk by Tyler. It was the very desk where I tutored him every day. With one hand, he unbuttoned my shirt. With the other hand… well, it’s hard to describe. “Olivia, I’ve wanted to do this for two years,” he panted, his voice low and needy. “Kiss me, please?” I watched all this in stunned silence. There was a calendar on the desk. The date was: April 2026. Two years later? Could it be… I was dreaming of the future? The scene shifted, and the time became August 2026. The setting moved to a bed. The twenty-year-old Tyler had an even better body than now. The lighting was dim, reflecting a rhythmic rise and fall. Sweat dripped from his forehead: “Olivia, look at me. I’m your good boy. Don’t leave me again, okay?” He was as devout as a believer, begging like that. I couldn’t bear to watch such a steamy scene anymore. I woke up with a start. My heart was pounding wildly in my chest. It was just a dream, it’s fine. I comforted myself and pushed the dream to the back of my mind. 8 The next morning. Tyler usually slept until noon. But today, he was actually sitting on the sofa staring blankly at eight o’clock. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept well. I greeted him calmly: “You’re up early.” He jumped up from the sofa as if he’d seen a monster: “You… you…” “What are you stuttering for? Spit it out.” “I could never like you, and I could never beg you like that.” “Psycho!” I looked him up and down. His tongue was tied, his ears bright red. Unlike his usual arrogant demeanor. A bit weird. I threw a vocabulary book at him: “If you have too much free time, go memorize words.” For the next few days. I kept dreaming of scenes that seemed to be from the future. And they all involved Tyler. The 2026 me had a respectable job, wearing a white button-up and a pencil skirt every day. The Tyler in the dream seemed to really like that outfit. He would always slowly unbutton my shirt. Sometimes with his hands, sometimes with his teeth. And then slowly kiss the exposed skin. Conversely, in reality— Tyler avoided me like the plague. He even faked being sick to get out of classes, asking for consecutive days off. If you lie too much, it becomes true. On the weekend, Tyler got his wish and fell ill. He had a high fever of 102 degrees, was delirious, and couldn’t get out of bed. As luck would have it, the housekeeper was off today, so it was just the two of us in the mansion. Out of concern for his safety, I called Chairman Sterling. Before I could even finish describing his symptoms, the Chairman interrupted me: “Just let him lie there for a few days and he’ll be fine. You don’t need to report to me when he gets sick in the future.” I was slightly stunned: “Aren’t you going to take him to the hospital?” “There’s no need.” I heard someone yell “Nice shot!” in the background. The Chairman was playing golf. I said, “Then how about you come see him after your game?” “I’m very busy.” The Chairman was polite yet distant: “Ms. Miller, just let him fend for himself.” “How can you say that?” “He’s not my only son. As the most disappointing one, I’ve been patient enough with him.” I suddenly didn’t know what to say. “Did you notice his broken left pinky?” the Chairman asked abruptly. “I saw it.” “I broke it.” 9 “…What?” I almost lost my voice. “When Tyler was little, he lied about being sick to trick me into coming home to see him. I’m so busy, where do I have the time to play these little games with him? So, I broke his pinky to teach him a lesson.” The Chairman’s laugh revealed a sense of pride: “After that, he behaved and never told that kind of lie again. “It’s just a broken pinky, it doesn’t affect his life. Look, isn’t he alive and kicking now?” … A chill spread through my entire body. I think I understood. Why Tyler’s personality was so awful. Growing up in such an environment, it would be weird if he weren’t twisted. I stood at the door of his room, looking at the suffering Tyler. It was as if I saw my younger self. I was just like him. No one cared, stumbling along, figuring out how to grow up all alone. I decided to pour a glass of water and tell him to get up and take some medicine. A flush was spread across Tyler’s face today. He looked a little sweet. I couldn’t help but reach out and pinch his cheek. It felt great, soft, like a stress ball. Tyler groaned, but didn’t resist. He probably didn’t have the energy. After he took the medicine, I finally let go, satisfied, and prepared to leave. Tyler suddenly grabbed me: “Olivia.” “What did you call me?” Is his brain fried from the fever? Didn’t he say he would never beg me? Immediately after, Tyler rested his entire head on my shoulder, his breathing scorching hot: “What year is it today? Olivia, you’re in my dream again. “If you’re not talking, do you want to feel me at 102 degrees?” Saying that, he grabbed my hand and placed it on the hottest part of his entire body…

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Good news: I’m the true heiress of a billionaire family. Bad news: Someone is impersonating me. At a family dinner, the fake heiress ran up to me, soaking wet and looking pitiful. “Sister, why did you throw red wine on me?” I looked around, hugged the 2-liter bottle of soda next to me, and gave her a clear, innocent stare. “Are you talking about me? But I’ve been drinking Coke this whole time.” 1 I am Maya Sterling, the youngest daughter of the Sterling Group. My eldest sister, Olivia, is an Oscar-winning director who wins awards until her hands are sore, internationally renowned. My older brother, Liam, is the current second-in-command of the Sterling Group, with a limitless future. And me… I am a clueless, useless idiot. Maybe my parents’ genes took a wild detour when they made me. Aside from my looks, I didn’t inherit a single one of their outstanding talents. Not only that, but my reaction times have always been a bit slower than everyone else’s. In my sister’s words, I was like a Golden Retriever that snuck into a pack of wolves, getting bullied but still wagging my tail happily and barking, “Big doggies!” Logically, someone at the very bottom of the food chain like me should have been the first cannon fodder sacrificed in any billionaire family feud. But my mom said: “So what if she’s a little slow? Two heads are better than one, and we have a whole family to protect her.” But my mom was wrong about one thing. Since I couldn’t follow the elite billionaire heir route, she dedicated herself to throwing money at me so I could be a carefree trust-fund kid. But when other rich kids were thrill-seeking and street racing, I barely managed to pass my driver’s test. When they were out partying and binge drinking, I was allergic to alcohol. When they were playing the field and keeping boy toys, the most I dared to do was hold hands. Over time, my mom had to comfort herself. “It’s better to be a little slow. It doesn’t attract unwanted attention. Keeps the gold-diggers away.” But even living like this, I still became a target. 2 Liam brought home a frail girl who looked about seventy percent like me. The moment she saw my mom, she tragically dropped to her knees, crying her eyes out. “Mom, I finally found you!” My dad instantly felt the chicken leg in his bowl lose its flavor. He put down his fork and stared wide-eyed. “What’s going on? You have a kid on the outside?!” My mom was horrified. “I don’t! I swear I didn’t!” The girl crawled on her knees and bowed deeply to my dad. “Dad, I missed you so much!” My mom dropped her panicked expression, put her hands on her hips, and pointed at my dad’s nose. “You still have the nerve to ask me! Is this one of your past mistakes?!” The girl on her knees choked back tears, while my parents were still immersed in their game of passing the buck. Neither of them paid her any attention. “Dad, Mom, she says she is the real Maya Sterling.” In the end, it was Liam who got straight to the point. “What does that mean? How is that possible?” “I’ve seen the DNA test report. It’s real.” “Then what about our youngest?” My mom pointed at me, who was still burying my head in my food. “The youngest is, of course, your biological daughter, my biological sister.” Liam’s words carried no hesitation. He stood coldly to the side, with no intention of helping the so-called “real” sister up. The girl suddenly raised her head and glared at me fiercely. “She’s a fake! If Mom and Dad don’t believe me, you can take her for a DNA test. You have no biological connection to her!” Her certainty made Liam frown. My parents didn’t respond to her accusation, and Liam continued asking. “So I brought her back to ask you, is this some illegitimate daughter you had on the outside?” My parents shook their heads violently. After a long pause, my mom slapped her forehead. “I know!” I rubbed my forehead and spat out the last chicken bone. Thanks to this farce grabbing their attention, I got to eat all the chicken legs today. Except for the half still in my dad’s bowl. My mom’s eyes shone brightly, incredibly excited. “It turns out I had twins back then!” 3 Everyone’s eyes turned to my mom. The girl was the first to object. “How is that possible? There was clearly only me! I am your only daughter!” “Mom, if you take her for a DNA test, you’ll know…” Her words were cut off by my mom. My mom took her hand, pulled her to sit on the sofa, and looked at her with maternal love. “Sweetheart, a piece of flesh fell from my own body, wouldn’t I know how much it weighed?” “I always wondered why my belly was so big back then. It must have been twins.” “Don’t you agree, honey?” My dad showed a look of sudden realization and nodded repeatedly. “I thought it was because you ate too many supplements during the pregnancy. So it was twins.” “You almost had a difficult labor back then. It must have been during the panic that the hospital lost one of the babies.” Surprisingly, everyone accepted this absurd explanation. Even Liam’s expression softened. The girl looked pale, trying to argue further. Her gaze fell on me, as if expecting me to react with violent rejection. But all I could think was: No wonder my reactions are so slow. This girl’s mouth fired off words like it was on 2x speed. All the excellent genes must have gone to her! But I wasn’t jealous. I was always going to be last place anyway. What did it matter if I had one more sibling? I frowned. I had eaten a bit too much and was feeling stuffed, which slowed my thinking even more. “So, between the two of us, who is the older sister?” Under the girl’s expectant gaze, I threw out a completely useless question. “You be the older sister, Maya. Take care of your new younger sister.” My mom smiled brightly, observing the girl’s reaction. She bit her lip, seemingly unwilling, but eventually, slowly nodded. “Mom, my life before this was so hard…” She rolled up her sleeves, perhaps intending to show the scars on her arms. My mom stopped her and thoughtfully draped a blanket over her thin clothes. “Sweetheart, let’s not talk about the past.” “Let’s give you a new name.” “You are the child we lost to the outside world, so we’ll call you… Ava.” Ava swallowed her grievances. “Okay, Mom.” My mom took Ava’s hand and warmly gave her a tour of the house. Overnight, everyone in the Sterling Group, except for Olivia who was away filming, learned of Ava’s existence. And Ava’s challenge to me officially began at that moment. 4 As expected, Ava crushed me in every aspect. She effortlessly blended into the social circles I couldn’t fit into. She played instruments I couldn’t master with ease. Indeed, she looked more like a child of the Sterling family than I did. Piled high with money and the ultimate luxury services, Ava never again showed the timidity of our first meeting. She tried multiple times to steer our parents into taking me for a DNA test. But my mom said: “There’s no need. Our family doesn’t lack the money to raise one more person.” At the autumn gala, Ava fluttered through the crowd like a butterfly. Today, her identity as the “Fourth Miss of the Sterling Family” would be officially introduced to high society by our parents. For this day, she had meticulously prepared a haute couture corset gown, the tailored fabric accentuating her proud curves. Ava followed our parents closely, elegantly and confidently toasting and making small talk with everyone. I sat in a corner, discreetly pulling a 2-liter bottle of Coke from under the heavy tablecloth and filling my wine glass. Elegant. Truly too elegant. I swirled the glass and let out a satisfied burp. The only flaw was that room-temperature Coke wasn’t stimulating enough, and the carbonation dissipated too quickly. I held my wine glass and strolled leisurely out into the courtyard. I had never been good at handling these big scenes since I was a kid, so I was especially grateful for Ava’s existence. While daydreaming, I heard hurried footsteps approaching and instinctively ducked behind some bushes. The heavy, sticky sound of kissing and the rustling of clothes made me blush. Holy crap, who is making out in the garden?! “Tyler… someone might see us…” Ava’s soft moans mixed with a man’s heavy breathing. “Baby, you look so beautiful today.” Tyler was my arranged fiancé. Rather than being surprised that they had hooked up, my main thought made me cover my mouth in a silent scream: Did they not know our family’s exterior was covered in full-color, thermal-imaging infrared security cameras?! Thinking of the security guards staring at each other in front of the HD monitors in the control room… Oh my god, I felt embarrassed for them! 5 It took forever for those two to leave, and my legs were numb from squatting. My engagement to Tyler was a verbal agreement made by our elders. A business marriage, very normal. But the two of us never really clicked. Tyler thought I was boring and plain, and I thought Tyler was a player. The engagement kind of just faded away. But it looked like Ava was very happy to be the rebound. Tyler was the sole heir to the Vance family. Old Mr. Vance’s marriage plan for him was: “Best to have two kids in the first year, three in two years, the more the better.” Looking at Ava’s frail frame, I had deep doubts. Oh well, as long as she’s happy. Before I could even bend down, lift the tablecloth, and refill my drink, a swaying white figure crashed into me. “Ah! Sister, why did you throw red wine on me?” Ava’s eyes were filled with tears, her face pale, as she questioned me, trembling. A large, dark wine-red stain bloomed across her layered skirt. At first glance, it looked like she had just run from a murder scene. Before I had time to react, Tyler was there too. “Maya, how could you bully your sister? Are you jealous that she’s better than you?” “Sister definitely didn’t do it on purpose, Tyler, don’t say that…” The drama at the gala naturally drew everyone’s attention. Soon, everyone noticed the corner where I was standing. Under the curious, drama-hungry gazes of the bystanders, I slowly hugged the 2-liter bottle of soda next to me, my eyes clear and innocent. “Are you talking about me? But I’ve been drinking Coke this whole time.” Everyone showed a look of utter speechlessness. Tyler kept pushing it. “What kind of person drinks Coke at a gala? You just bullied Ava and won’t admit it. Do you know how hard she worked for today…” I didn’t know. I really didn’t know how hard she worked. “I’m allergic to alcohol. I never drink.” “Then you must have snatched Ava’s glass!” Then I would have needed to be holding two glasses. I didn’t really want to keep arguing with this troll. In the end, Ava interrupted the argument. “It was me who didn’t look where I was going and bumped into my sister. It’s my fault. I apologize to you, Sister.” She bowed deeply to me, tears welling in her eyes, while the onlookers whispered among themselves. Honestly, nobody really cared whose wine it was anyway. Ava’s goal was singular: to create the illusion that I was targeting her, thereby establishing her persona as respectful and humble. The rest she left to the rumors and wild guesses. With a teary-eyed Ava in front of me and an aggressive Tyler behind me, I felt a bit distressed. This was broken by an elegant, tall figure. Olivia’s long, slender fingers lifted Ava’s chin, a half-smile on her face. “You’re very talented. Want to be the female lead in my new movie?” 6 Ava accepted, flattered and overwhelmed. A spot in Olivia’s movies was hard to come by, let alone the lead role. After thinking about it for a long time, I decided to hint to Olivia to be careful of Ava. Stuttering in front of Olivia for a while, I only managed to squeeze out one sentence. “She’s not a good person.” Olivia blew a smoke ring at me, watching with a smile as I pinched my nose and coughed. “If you’re worried, come join the crew with me. Big sister will take you to watch a good show.” Ava’s sudden casting caused a heated debate among the crew. “Director Sterling really does favor talented people.” “Look, Ava gets the lead role right away, while Maya can only watch.” “I’ve heard for a long time that Maya is a useless heiress. Maybe the rumors are true, and she’s not really a Sterling.” I sat under a sunshade drinking juice, watching Ava sweating under the blazing sun. I scoffed at the whispers nearby. I had heard these things so much lately that my ears were growing calluses. Ava’s first scene involved wirework over water. Although she had undergone systematic training before shooting, she still looked a bit hesitant. Olivia put her arm around her shoulder and pointed at the award-winning actor, Ethan Cole, not far away. “Ava, your starting point is acting opposite an A-lister. You’re already better than so many people.” “Don’t put pressure on yourself. It doesn’t matter if you mess up. You definitely won’t be worse than Maya.” Since Ava arrived, “little sister” was no longer my exclusive title. Such intimate instructions obviously worked perfectly on Ava. “Sister, I will definitely do a good job!” She nodded confidently. Then came eighteen consecutive NG takes. Olivia strove for perfection and never went easy on anyone. Hoisted high up, dropped heavily down. I thought Ava would call it quits, but she actually pushed through. It wasn’t until evening that I understood the meaning behind Ava’s actions. A comparison photo of us on set was trending online. #AvaNaturalBornActress #AvaDedication #AvaMayaComparison #WhatIsItLikeToHaveAMeanOlderSister In the photos, Ava was respectfully performing difficult stunts mid-air, while I was sitting with my legs crossed in the shade playing Solitaire on my phone. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to work. It was that I really wasn’t helpful. Despite the internet condemning me for making things difficult for Ava, my mom was the first one to get angry at home. “How many times have I told you not to cross your legs! You never listen!” Okay, my bad. 7 After tagging along with Olivia’s crew for a few days, I didn’t want to go anymore. Those days, I was secretly photographed 360 degrees by paparazzi, constantly trending alongside Ava and being gossiped about. It was so annoying. However, Ava was enjoying it. Her popularity was soaring, even driving up the Sterling Group’s stock. My dad generously transferred 5% of his shares to Ava as a wrap gift. The circles were saying that this was the favored true heiress, and questioning what kind of life Maya lived before—no car, no house, no power. No comparison, no damage. True, I thought they had a point. But I had a mouth. I could ask my parents for money. Having money was good enough. Ava clearly wasn’t satisfied. Not only did she have a massive fan base, but she had also gained the family’s approval. My mom put two duck legs in her bowl. I admit, I was sour. Ava smiled gently: “Mom, actors need to maintain their figures. I can’t eat greasy food. Let my sister have it.” “It’s okay, you eat it. Your sister had too much meat before, she needs to eat lighter to rest her stomach.” Ava’s smile twisted slightly, but she quickly adjusted. “Dad, I want to join the family company to learn. Can I?” “Of course. It’s good to be proactive. Liam, arrange it.” My usually silent second brother nodded. “Is Maya coming too?” I shook my head violently. Making me work a 9-to-5 desk job was akin to prison. I wasn’t going. My dad deadpanned a final blow. “Don’t force her. Isn’t lying around at home nice? It’s not like we can’t afford the electricity bill.” See? This is how my uselessness was cultivated. A week after Ava went to the company to “learn,” an anonymous email arrived in the inboxes of the Sterling Group employees. It was the DNA test result between me and my dad. The result showed: “The DNA match between the samples is low. No biological relationship.” 8 What’s that saying? When a wall is about to fall, everyone gives it a push. Another saying: There is no wall in the world that doesn’t leak wind. The first to come knocking was the Vance family. The Vance family and the Sterling family were equal in status, essentially neck and neck. Old Mr. Vance, leaning on his cane, looked benevolent but had sharp eyes. “I’ve heard about Maya’s situation. From my perspective, there’s no need to cancel the engagement.” “I think Ava is quite good. Tyler praises her in front of me all the time.” “Besides, the initial agreement was just a marriage with a Sterling daughter. It didn’t specify who, right?” Even I could hear the underlying meaning of Old Mr. Vance’s words. “This was originally meant to be an alliance of the strong. Who would marry a fake with no blood ties?” “Ava and Tyler already have eyes for each other.” “I’m not backing out. Our two families are still meant to be joined.” Ava looked shy, standing quietly aside, waiting for our parents to decide. Olivia and Liam looked as usual, with no obvious emotional fluctuations. And I, having already lost the right to be present, could only eavesdrop from the stairs. Finally, my dad nodded with apparent difficulty. Then the two families began discussing the specific timing and details of the wedding. I stopped listening and quietly went back to my room. I knew why my parents were so anxious to push this marriage forward. Because along with that DNA test, my “checkered past” from childhood had also been exposed. Someone claiming to be my classmate exposed my “school bullying” and “stolen status.” A little-known D-list actor accused me of involving him in the “casting couch” and “sexual harassment.” And Sterling Group employees revealed how I “squandered company assets” and “mistreated staff.” … This was absolute fear-mongering! Ever since I showed a slow reaction time and couldn’t keep up with school pacing, my mom hired private tutors. I hadn’t been to school since then. As for the casting couch and sexual harassment… Look at that guy’s face! He didn’t even have a quarter of Liam’s good looks. What would I even want from him?! And the ones saying I oppressed employees… I had only been to the company for one day, and aside from sleeping, I just played Solitaire. Did I mistreat the company computers? Did I? But these baseless rumors dealt a heavy blow to the unprepared Sterling Group. Public opinion was overwhelmingly one-sided. People were boycotting Sterling products, and the company was in a panic. The best solution was to abandon me and let the marriage between Ava and Tyler distract the public. The shining true heiress returns, the fake heiress flees in disgrace. Isn’t this what everyone wanted to see?

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I used to be a bad girl. I spent five years chasing the guy everyone called the golden boy, Liam. He was aloof and arrogant, and he was always disgusted by me. “You smell like smoke. It stinks.” But I would shamelessly hug him, bite his lip, and pass him a mint to cover the smell. We dated for a year, and I custom-made a pair of rings for us. I went to see him, thrilled, only to hear someone ask him what he thought of the heiress, Chloe. His eyes were indifferent: “Not bad. She’s pretty good.” My breath caught, and then I heard them ask what he thought of me. “Too wild. Not marriage material. I like good girls.” I was wild. She was good. I guess I had my answer. It was time to let go. 01 When Liam got home, he saw me chewing on a mint. He frowned: “Smoking again?” Usually, when I saw that look on his face, I would have already pounced on him, hanging off him coquettishly, kissing him over and over, trying to make the icy man melt with desire. Then, I’d smile and ask: “Can you taste the smoke?” His eyes would darken, his fingers subconsciously rubbing my waist, but his face would remain stern. “It’s broad daylight, stop messing around!” “Can’t you be a little more modest as a woman?” Facing the person I’d loved for seven years, what did I know about modesty? So, I wrapped my fingers around his tie and pulled gently. “Babe, how about we go to the bedroom and you teach me?” A faint blush would quietly creep up Liam’s ears, brighter than the lipstick smeared on the corner of his mouth. His voice would turn husky, but he’d still act serious: “Teach you what?” I’d give him a sultry smile and lead him step-by-step into the bedroom. But this time, I didn’t have the energy. I swallowed the crushed mint and walked up to him. His Adam’s apple bobbed, his gaze unreadable, as if he was expecting something. I chased him for five years and we were together for one. I’ve seen disappointment, disgust, and impatience in his eyes. The only things missing were love and expectation. He agreed to be my boyfriend only because when he first started his company and was cornered by debt collectors, I called some guys from the bar to help him out. I used both soft and hard tactics, paying off a hundred thousand dollars of his debt. At that time, he looked at me with distant eyes. “What do you want?” I rested my chin on my hand, my eyes tracing his features. He had lost some of the boyishness from seven years ago. I smiled, looking alluring. “I like you. Be my boyfriend.” That was my twentieth confession. He was silent for a long time, so long that I thought he was going to reject me again, until a soft “Yeah” sounded. I was instantly shocked and thrilled, excitedly kissing him on the cheek. The guys from the bar cheered, urging us to kiss on the lips. My face felt a little hot. I looked at Liam. But his icy expression was like a bucket of cold water. He didn’t like me. He looked down on me. But it didn’t matter, time changes everything. How stupid. I suddenly laughed. Liam’s slender fingers tugged at his collar, looking impatient. “What are you acting crazy for?” “I don’t have any contact with Chloe anymore. If you keep throwing these baseless tantrums, then let’s break up.” In the past year, he had said “let’s break up” countless times. If you smoke again, we break up. Drink, we break up. Dye your hair, we break up. To keep him, I willingly closed my bar, gave up the bad habits he disapproved of, and learned to act like a proper lady. After all, my wildness was for him in the first place. But this time, I was tired. “Okay, Liam. Let’s break up.” 02 A flicker of emotion flashed in Liam’s indifferent eyes, and then he lazily pulled out his phone and threw it on the table. “Spit it out, who do you want me to block? Who do you want me to fire?” Once, I made him fire an assistant who deliberately spilled coffee on him, and made him delete the heiress Chloe, who had been making eyes at him. At that time, his eyes were full of exhaustion: “You just don’t understand anything, do you?” I panicked. Liam wasn’t born with a silver spoon, but he became a rising star in the business world through his high IQ and Ivy League education. And I went to a community college. We were worlds apart. People around us constantly hinted that I should let Liam go, let him step into a broader world. And that so-called world was the heiress, Chloe. Liam and I hadn’t been together for long, and I didn’t want to break up. So, when I caught them on a date. Sitting in a high-end restaurant I had wanted to go to for a long time but didn’t have the status to book. I didn’t even dare to go up and confront them, didn’t dare to question him. Late that night, Liam came back. I feigned a casual tone. “What were you doing? Coming back so late.” Liam unbuttoned his shirt, responding nonchalantly. “Having dinner with an important client.” My heart trembled, my eyes instantly welled up, and I turned my back to him, not saying another word. He quietly came up behind me and suddenly wrapped his arms around me. “It’s just that the person I was dealing with was a woman, the heiress to the Vance family. Out of politeness, I dropped her home, so it got a bit late.” His tone was deep and gentle. Liam’s chin rested on my shoulder, his warm breath hitting my skin. Even though there wasn’t any overtly romantic gesture. I still couldn’t control my blushing. “Oh? So is Miss Vance prettier, or am I?” It was a flirtatious question, but it made Liam think for a long time before answering. “Your styles are different. You can’t just say who is prettier.” His attitude returned to its usual seriousness, his tone cold. “You shouldn’t ask questions like that. Saying someone isn’t pretty is a very awkward thing to do.” I was stunned by his words and broke free from his embrace. “But you saying I’m pretty doesn’t mean Miss Vance isn’t. Why would it be awkward? Is Miss Vance going to hear our conversation?” He pursed his lips and looked at me, his gaze deep. I felt wronged. Since we got together, he had never complimented me, nor shown any affection. I just wanted a little bit of preference, a little bit of proof. But he silently stood up and went upstairs without hesitation. I was angry too. I wrapped myself in a blanket and slept on the living room sofa all night. For the whole night, I didn’t sleep, and Liam never came downstairs. He just let me stay there, all alone. 03 The reason I stopped being mad at Liam was that he bought an SUV. He knew I loved driving heavy-duty vehicles, but after we got together, I never went off-roading anymore, so I sold my old one. My bad mood vanished into thin air. I made some soup and walked into his office, saying excitedly: “Babe, I made chicken soup. Let’s drink it together.” Liam flatly refused: “I can’t. I have a lunch meeting.” I frowned: “Okay, then drink it when you come back tonight.” “Liam, that Thai place on the West Side is pretty good,” a woman suddenly pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing me, her expression showed a hint of surprise: “And this is?” “My girlfriend.” Liam stood up and turned to me, “This is Miss Vance.” Chloe generously and naturally came over to shake my hand: “I’ve always wondered what kind of amazing woman could win Liam over. Today I finally get to meet you.” I smiled without speaking. Liam put his hands in his pockets: “Audrey, you go back first. Miss Vance and I have business at noon.” But Chloe took the initiative to invite me: “Don’t do that. It’s nothing serious, just lunch. Let Audrey join us.” “Alright then,” Liam agreed. So the lunch meeting was just the two of them. Liam’s tone when he agreed made me feel a distinctly different attitude. He was never compliant with me. On the way to the restaurant, they walked side-by-side, talking Animatedly. Whenever I tried to interject. Chloe always managed to find a topic Liam was interested in to talk over me. Gradually, I fell behind them. At the restaurant, Liam pulled out a chair for Chloe first, paused, and then pulled one out for me. I could tell I was only enjoying Liam’s chivalry because of Chloe. The waiter handed the menu to Liam. Liam raised his hand to stop him: “Let the ladies look.” The waiter realized his mistake and handed it to Chloe: “Sorry about that. The girlfriend should order.” When he said this, everyone froze for a moment. Anyone with eyes could see they were the matching pair. No one was going to explain a misunderstanding to a waiter. In the end, the atmosphere during the meal was stifling. As we were leaving, Chloe grabbed my hand: “Audrey, please don’t mind that. You’re Liam’s real girlfriend.” I pulled my hand away: “I know.” Liam frowned. Chloe playfully stuck out her tongue, turning to look at Liam: “Liam, I hope your wife doesn’t punish you tonight.” Liam’s brow relaxed: “Don’t joke around. Audrey isn’t petty.” I finally got a compliment, so why did hearing it still make me unhappy? Watching the two of them get along so harmoniously. I felt like a third wheel. 04 After that meeting with Chloe. The well-behaved, proper Chloe he talked about frequently appeared between us. After that, my alone time with Liam gradually decreased. Because of this, we often fought. We had another unpleasant argument because I wanted him to fire his assistant, and we barely saw each other for almost a month. Liam took the initiative to suggest taking me on a vacation. I also wanted to make up, so I naturally agreed. But it was ruined by a phone call. Under the dim light, Liam’s profile looked exceptionally handsome. After hanging up, he kissed my lips, sweeping away the mint I was addicted to. I was just about to respond when he pushed me away. “Chloe says she’s also coming to Miami. We’ll hang out together then.” When did Miss Vance become Chloe? My face fell: “Again? You’re doing business with them, not selling your soul.” Liam withdrew the arm holding me, his tone cold and hard. “Don’t talk like that.” “If there was really something going on between us, would I contact her openly in front of you?” They seemed very transparent. Liam reported to me every time he was alone with Chloe. But can the things you see and don’t see really be explained away? I rolled over and turned my back to him. Liam sighed, turned off the lamp, and hugged me from behind. “The Vance Group is currently evaluating whether our company is worth investing in. Chloe just got back from abroad and doesn’t have any friends, so she treats me like an older brother.” “I just treat her as an investor, with a little respect. I don’t have any other thoughts.” “I don’t want to fight anymore. Can we just get along?” His body temperature was high, and leaning against him made my whole body feel warm, just like the warmth from his palm when he saved me seven years ago. I understood that starting a business wasn’t easy for him, so his attitude towards Chloe would be different. After all, the backing of the Vance family was a huge temptation for an ordinary company. I temporarily suppressed my anger, but the next day, it flared up again. Chloe took over my role completely. One minute she wanted water, the next she couldn’t open the bottle cap, the next she needed a towel. I couldn’t stand lying on the beach chair anymore and said I was going in the water. Liam said he’d come with me. Chloe, who had been lying perfectly fine, immediately stood up and said she wanted to join. I ignored her and went straight to the changing room to put on my swimsuit. Chloe and I changed and walked out of the changing room at the same time. Liam’s eyes fell on me first, then shifted to her. She excitedly twirled her skirt: “Liam, does it look good?” But before she could spin many times, Liam stopped her. Chloe instantly put on a pitiful expression. Liam sighed helplessly, his explanation mixed with comfort. “Spinning around is dangerous, protect yourself.” His tone was gentle and doting. Under the blazing sun, I felt a bit cold. I prepared to leave. Chloe obediently said “Oh,” then adjusted her knee-length skirt, and casually looked at me. “Ah, Audrey, wearing that… isn’t it too dangerous?” I stopped, just about to snap back. Liam beat me to it, his tone indifferent and lazy. “She’s just like that.” “You’re not like her.” I froze. I didn’t understand what he meant by that. By the time I recovered, the two of them had already jumped into the ocean. The sun hung high in the sky, every ray of light like a red-hot steel needle, piercing the eyes. I walked sullenly towards the beach. I saw Liam abruptly let go of the hand gripping Chloe’s arm. He turned and waved at me: “Audrey, come teach Chloe how to swim.” It seemed like he was forcing an explanation. But why be nervous? I watched for a few seconds, calmed myself down, and slowly walked over. Seeing me coming, the distance between Liam and Chloe increased a bit. “It’s better for Audrey to teach me, Liam is too clumsy.” Chloe smiled sweetly, affectionately grabbing my hand. I kept a straight face and directly started guiding her on how to float, telling her to relax her whole body. After trying to take her feet off the ground a few times without success, Liam hesitated before leaving the water and walking to the beach. Miraculously, as soon as Liam left, Chloe succeeded. Chloe’s expression turned cold, and she withdrew her arm without warning. “Thanks, Audrey.” My hands stiffened on the water’s surface. “You’re still not used to it, I’ll hold you.” Chloe looked at me sideways, a sneer curling the corner of her mouth. “Stop pretending. A bad girl who’s been mixing in society early on, how could you not know this?” “Isn’t it tiring clinging to someone from a different world?” “Audrey, you sure can endure.” I frowned tightly, the hands hidden in the water clenched until they hurt. Suddenly, a wave crashed over us without warning. Both Chloe and I were caught off guard and fell into the water. I quickly steadied myself and started treading water. “Chloe!” A roar came from the shore. I turned my head and saw that Chloe had been carried out by the wave. I was startled. I immediately adjusted my direction and swam towards her. But I was pulled away by a fierce force. “Don’t go!” Liam’s eyes were wide with panic. It was a warning tone. Because of his sudden action, I was caught off guard and choked on a few mouthfuls of water. The bitter seawater was like sharp little knives. Bringing a burning pain to my throat. More than the physical pain, a coldness spreading from my heart made me clench my teeth. This time, I saw it very clearly. Liam’s concern for Chloe had always been different. 05 Back on the shore. Liam was performing CPR on Chloe. He was kneeling on the ground, having lost his composure, his face full of regret and anxiety. What he was regretting, I didn’t know. The next second, Liam pinched Chloe’s mouth and lowered his head. Just as they were about to touch, I grabbed Liam’s shoulder, my tone stiff. “Let me do it. You’re a man after all…” Liam seemed to be going crazy, slapping my hand away hard. “Audrey, I didn’t think you were this kind of person.” “Is your mind only filled with that kind of stuff between men and women? Do you understand that saving a life is the priority!” Liam’s fury caught me off guard. Under the gaze of the crowd, I embarrassedly withdrew my hand. Logically, I knew Liam was anxious to save her, but emotionally, I knew artificial respiration didn’t have to be done by a man with a girlfriend. Then, Liam covered Chloe’s lips right in front of me. I ran away. I found an empty, secluded spot. Tears fell to the ground in streams. Except for high school, when my family went bankrupt and I was almost forced to drop out because we had no money, I hadn’t cried. This was the first time I cried in seven years. It wasn’t out of grievance, nor was it because I was provoked. It was because I knew I had to face reality. He didn’t like me. From a high school crush to college, confessing and being rejected every time, his coldness and impatience were like an insurmountable peak. I finally succeeded, but it was just an illusion. A small pebble could easily make it disappear. “Little wildcat?” “It’s been so long, and you’re still crying.” A relaxed and slightly teasing male voice sounded. I looked up at the sound and met a pair of deep eyes. I was stunned. After a long while, the face merged with someone from seven years ago. Carter. 06 The memory broke, and my gaze focused on the phone on the table. Exhaustion followed, and I twitched the corner of my mouth. “Not interested.” “You’ve brought up breaking up so many times. Let me be the one to bring it up the last time.” “Liam, we’re done.” Liam’s impatient gaze turned dark, his face sinking. “What do you mean?” Sometimes you have to doubt a man’s comprehension skills. I said it twice, and he acted like he was deaf. This time it was my turn to be impatient. I walked past him in silence. “Is it Carter? He came looking for you again?” Liam firmly grabbed my wrist. His eyes suppressed something, as if the moment I answered yes, the things inside would instantly erupt. At the end of that trip, Carter and I exchanged contact info. Liam and I took separate flights back. We didn’t speak to each other when we got home. Until I saw Carter post on Instagram that his new bar was opening and everyone was welcome. I drove over as if possessed. I plunged into the dazzling dance floor. The deafening drumbeats crashed like raging waves, constantly assaulting my senses. When I got tired of dancing, a glass of water was handed to me. “Nice dancing, very captivating.” I raised my hand to take it, said thanks, but didn’t drink. Carter’s appearance was flamboyant and eye-catching. The clothes he wore were brightly colored and uniquely styled, showing off his rebellious personality. His vibe was exactly the same as seven years ago. But he was no good guy. He shrugged and smiled: “Still holding a grudge? Wasn’t it you who dressed up as a guy and walked down that alley?” “I ended up getting arrested by the cops and had a leg broken by my dad.” His voice was light and bouncy, making people drop their guard inadvertently. I took a sip of water, trying not to think about those memories. “You deserved it.” “Yeah, yeah, I deserved it.” He exaggeratedly leaned on the bar, his body suddenly getting close. His gorgeous features were suddenly magnified, and my heart clenched tightly. He smirked slightly, looking like a total bad boy: “Then what you owe me…” “Audrey!” A furious roar exploded behind me. Liam’s face was very dark. He stared gloomily at Carter. But Carter didn’t change his expression. He slightly raised his chin, exuding a lawless aura. Liam gritted his teeth and said to me: “Stay away from people like this.” After saying that, he dragged me out of the bar. I shook off his hand. He stopped and hugged me tightly. “The artificial respiration was poorly thought out on my part, but she was traveling with us. If something happened to her, I wouldn’t be able to explain it.” “I’m sorry, Audrey.” Strange, this apology didn’t stir any ripples in my heart. I was very calm. I even had the mood to wonder what people around us would think of us hugging on the street. They probably thought we looked stupid. The issue was temporarily turned over because of his apology, but our official reconciliation actually stemmed from another explosion. After that, he and Chloe kept in constant contact using work as an excuse. He had all sorts of reasonable explanations. And I went from calm to completely apathetic, even responding to Carter, who contacted me one after another. We were communicating legitimately, because we were going to partner up to open a bar. Liam and Chloe had meetings at night, and Carter and I had site visits at night. He was very angry, but I would hit back using his own excuses. His face looked worse day by day. He would always say things out of nowhere. “Why haven’t you been eating mints lately?” “Did you smoke with Carter?” He sat on the sofa, unmoving. His eyelashes covered his eyelids, making it impossible to read his expression. I ignored him. “Didn’t you say you’d quit smoking for me? Audrey, how can you break your promise!” His voice suddenly rose, the last few words almost bursting from his chest. My heart trembled, and I left. One day when I was about to go out, he blocked the door. “Please don’t go.” “I’ve been feeling so miserable lately, so miserable.” His tone was very clingy, as if he had been greatly wronged. I remained silent and shifted my body. Liam blocked me even tighter, his whole body almost pressing against me. His scorching body temperature made me instantly recall the palm that pulled me out of the abyss. I couldn’t breathe properly: “Fine, one condition. Delete Chloe.” He froze for a moment, then said: “Okay, but you have to delete Carter too.” I was a bit surprised. He agreed so quickly; I didn’t expect Carter to be such a big threat to him. Afterward, I asked him why he hated Carter. He looked cold and arrogant, unable to hide the disgust in his eyes. “We were in the same class in high school. He slacked off all day and messed around.” “Arrogant, loved to fight, and dragged the class down. Like an unevolved savage, really annoying.” “How do you know him?” I thought about this question: “I saw him once or twice in high school.” He didn’t ask more, and I didn’t say more. We seemed to have made up, but I knew some things had already changed. For example, my emotions. They no longer fluctuated because of him. 07 Pulling my thoughts back. In the end, it just meant he could act unpredictable because of Chloe, but I couldn’t have any connection with Carter. I couldn’t help but laugh, my chest vibrating constantly, then stopping abruptly as I met his gaze. “Yeah, he’s wild enough.” “And you’re too good, not suited for dating.” Liam was stunned for a moment, then his face turned slightly pale. “You heard?” “I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just that he suddenly asked… I…” I looked up, my tone mocking: “Did you need time to prepare?” “Was it a diplomat asking or the UN asking, that you needed a pre-written script to answer?” Liam pressed his lips tightly together and fell silent. After a long time, he pulled me closer into his arms. “I’m sorry, I spoke without thinking. I do like good, obedient girls, but we’ve been together for so long.” “You chased me for so long, my heart isn’t made of stone…” Liam’s tone was very soft. But I couldn’t listen to it at all and interrupted him. “Do you think the straw that broke the camel’s back was really just the last straw?” “Or do you think I, Audrey, need a man’s charity?” Taking off the ring wasn’t to secure Liam, but to remind myself. Was I really going to give up on someone I’d hoped for for seven years? His face looked bad. This time he stayed silent longer, his fingers tightening their grip on my wrist. “Are you sure?” I let out a pained “Mm,” but he didn’t loosen his grip. He was used to being high and mighty in front of me, used to maintaining a cold and arrogant posture, never spending more than two sentences to coax me. And my decisiveness also angered him. I had had enough of the low posture, had enough of walking on eggshells. I struggled hard, ignoring the pain in my wrist. “I’m sure.” “Actually, you did consider Chloe, or maybe even liked her.” “But you couldn’t take the next step because of some unknown problem, and the reason wasn’t me, right?” Liam’s pupils contracted, and he continued to remain silent. I took his silence as agreement and looked seriously into his eyes. “Actually, you could have just rejected me. I liked you for so many years, confessed so many times, one more rejection wouldn’t have mattered.” “You repeatedly ignoring my feelings means you never respected me.” “Bad girl, delinquent—is that what you told Chloe?” These words crushed Liam. He panicked and raised his hand to grab me. “No, I…” I turned sideways, his hand caught empty air and hung suspended. “Stop talking.” “Seven years ago, you saved me.” “I was being bullied, you took me to the clinic. The medical bill was 20 bucks, and later you lent me 300 for tuition. Now, I’m returning it all to you.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath. Opened my eyes, typed the numbers. His phone dinged with a notification. Clearing a 320-dollar debt of gratitude after seven years. He didn’t lose out. Liam’s emotions completely broke down, his cold eyes turning bloodshot. “Audrey, don’t regret this!” 08 Everyone thought I was desperately in love with Liam. That I could never be the one to initiate a breakup. They teased me: “Did your god-tier boyfriend dump you?” Looking at my former employees, I downed the liquor in my glass. Smiling lightly: “Do I look like someone who isn’t chill?” My bartender, Lily, clicked her tongue twice and poured some more liquor. “Not ‘look like,’ you are. Even cool, badass women have to bow down to the god’s suit pants.” Faced with such an evaluation, I remained noncommittal. My phone suddenly rang, and I answered it naturally. “Audrey, come get your things.” Liam’s cold, hard voice came through clearly. I paused: “Throw them away.” He didn’t speak, but rapid breathing came through the receiver. I have always been decisive about things I’ve made up my mind about. Just as I was about to hang up, the other party gritted his teeth. “I don’t deal with trash, come back and throw it away yourself!” After saying that, he hung up. Even though he was the one who called, he was still acting high and mighty. I looked down at the dark screen, lit it up, and decisively added him to the blocklist. When I don’t like you, who do you think you are? I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately. Liam was perhaps just an obsession of mine. That year, I was a freshman and he was a sophomore. I was dragged into an alley and beaten by a group of girls. His accidental intrusion scared those girls away. I was covered in mud, lying pathetically on the ground. The hand he reached out exuded warmth in the sunlight. He took me to the clinic, paid for me, and left a sentence. “People who don’t know how to fight back can only endure bullying.” After that day, my personality changed drastically. Anyone who provoked me, I fought back with a fearless attitude. The title of “bad girl” began to emerge from then on. I thought about it carefully. I had the thought of fighting back long ago; Liam’s appearance was a catalyst, and also a mental pillar. Especially when I fell into the despair of being forced to drop out because I had no money. It was salvation. So during my one year of dating Liam, it was almost entirely me yielding and compromising. This is not a normal concept of love. What made me indulge him without limits? Was it love? Maybe a little, but it had already vanished when he favored Chloe.

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The day the SAT scores came out, I sent a message to my online crush. “I didn’t get into Harvard. Goodbye.” Then, I turned around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked him. Fast forward to my freshman year practical lab, the substitute T.A. called me out in front of everyone. “Come up here and solve this problem. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why is the online crush who wanted me to go to Harvard standing in front of me at MIT?! 01 After choosing my academic track in high school, my grades plummeted drastically. I was terrified I wouldn’t get into MIT. Out of desperation, I flirted with a guy online whose username was “Harvard Reject.” I asked him to help me study. He was gentle, considerate, and understanding. “Don’t worry. With me here, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered but slightly panicked. “No, no, no, not Harvard.” Actually, I was thinking: MIT is perfectly fine. “Tsk, what kind of talk is that, little girl? You can doubt your own IQ, but you can’t despise my abilities.” Me: “…” Yes, yes, yes. I really didn’t dare despise him. Because “Harvard Bro” really knew his stuff. Under his tutoring, my grades not only shot up quickly but also stayed consistently high. On my second mock exam, I scored an incredibly high 1560 on the SATs. I excitedly shared the news with him. Harvard Bro was very calm. “Yeah, that score should be enough for Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had always wanted to go to MIT. But during the year he tutored me, I clearly felt that Harvard Bro had a special obsession with Harvard. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept the username “Harvard Reject” for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would he be disappointed? Looking at the message he sent, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t get into Harvard?” “Don’t worry, you’ll definitely get in.” Hmm… He probably thought I was just nervous before the real exam and was comforting me. Just like that, I never mentioned my MIT dream to Harvard Bro. The day before the SATs, he sent a message telling me to do my best. He said he would be busy with his senior thesis for a while and asked me to message him once I got my scores. 02 The scores came out in late June. I got a 1580. Hmm… I could go to Harvard, and I could go to MIT. While I was agonizing over which one to choose, my mom got a call from the MIT admissions office at three in the morning. So, she decisively chose MIT for me… Goodbye, Harvard. Of course, I was happy to choose the school I had always wanted to go to. But whenever I thought of Harvard Bro, who had tutored me, I felt a bit anxious. He kept telling me to aim for Harvard, and now that I had chosen MIT… It felt like I had betrayed him. Just as I was agonizing over how to reply, his message came through first. “Scores are out, right? How did you do?” Look at this gentle greeting. The guilt in my heart deepened. I hardened my heart, gritted my teeth, and sent a message back. “I didn’t do well. I can’t go to Harvard.” “…” He fell silent. Before he could send a second message, I sent another: “I’m sorry. Goodbye.” Then, I decisively blocked him and went offline. 03 After that, I lost contact with Harvard Bro. Even though it was just a fleeting online connection, when I passed by the Harvard gates at the start of my freshman year… I couldn’t help but stop. My friend, Chloe, asked me what was wrong. She saw a trace of regret and longing in my dazed eyes. I sighed: “Once, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” She was speechless and dragged me toward the library to grab seats. “To be honest, every MIT student who passes by here says that. Hurry up, or there won’t be any seats left.” Me: “…” What an authentically refreshing, unpretentious humblebrag… Sure enough, there were no seats left in the library. Chloe let out a wail: “Are these people demons? They got into MIT and they’re still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every seat was taken. There were a few seats left in the discussion area. But after hearing a cacophony of different languages and voices… We decided the “silence is golden” reading area was far more precious. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Chloe excitedly slapped my arm. She immediately ran over to negotiate with the people sitting there. A few seconds later, she waved at me. “Audrey, come quick! There’s a spot here.” I walked over just in time to hear their conversation: “No problem. You guys are freshmen?” “Yeah.” Chloe smiled, her voice impossibly sweet. I quietly sat down and noticed the seat opposite me was empty, but there was a book on it. “You should definitely call me a senior, but I’m quite a few years older than you. I’m a grad student now.” “Wow, awesome!” While I was wondering if someone was sitting opposite me, Chloe had already exchanged numbers with the guy. After everyone settled down, it got quiet again. I looked down at my book. A little while later, the light in front of me dimmed. A figure pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. Then came a quiet conversation: “The professor dragged you to the office again?” “Yeah, there was an error in the data, had to recalculate it.” The first voice belonged to the senior who gave us the seats. The second voice was unfamiliar, but exceptionally nice to listen to. I sneakily looked up. A young man wearing glasses was sitting across from me. He had high cheekbones, deep and intense eyes, and long, thick eyelashes. His eyes were incredibly beautiful, almost like they were drawn in a comic book. He seemed to notice my gaze. He looked up. The moment our eyes met, I saw his face clearly. He was so good-looking that my breath caught. But this comic-book-perfect guy just gave me a flat glance. Then, upon seeing the textbook in front of me, he raised an eyebrow. He sounded surprised: “Polymer Materials and Engineering? Is that your major?” Huh? He actually spoke to me. I nodded. I took AP sciences in high school, and thanks to Harvard Bro, my grades were always good. So when I got to MIT, I chose this major directly. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the man opposite me curled the corner of his lips: “Not bad.” I was puzzled when the senior next to him friendly added: “What a coincidence, that’s our major too.” Ah, that was a coincidence. A direct senior in my program. “Hi, nice to meet you.” I greeted him politely. The man just gave an “Mhm,” his attitude seemingly turning cold again. “Don’t mind him, that’s just how he is.” I smiled and didn’t take it to heart. 04 My major is a bit complicated. The homework is plentiful and difficult. It was another weekend. Chloe and I were stuck in our dorm room, getting a headache over a physical chemistry problem. Finally, Chloe let out a wail. “I really can’t do this anymore. Just kill me! Why is it so hard?! No matter how many times I calculate it, it’s wrong.” Looking at the few hairs she had pulled out of her head, I felt a bit bad for her. But we were helpless. College coursework was more than just a little harder than high school. “Should we go ask someone else?” “Ask who?” Chloe’s question stumped me. The professor… I was a bit too intimidated to ask. Classmates? Chloe, sitting right next to me, was the state science valedictorian. While I was agonizing over this, a person popped into my head. Harvard Bro. If Harvard Bro were here, this problem would probably be a piece of cake for him. But I had deleted him! If I had known that college homework would be this torturous, I wouldn’t have acted so impulsively back then. Just then, Chloe, who was lying there like a corpse, suddenly sat bolt upright. “I thought of someone.” “Who?” “The senior we met at the library last time. Didn’t I get his number? He’s in the same major, he definitely knows.” Chloe was a woman of action. She grabbed her phone and sent a text. A minute later, she excitedly grabbed me and started heading for the door. “Let’s go, let’s go. He agreed. We’re going to find him right now.” 05 Chloe dragged me to the research lab building. “They’re doing an experiment, we have to wait a bit.” Not long after, several people trickled out of the lab. Then, the senior who gave us his number—the one who gave us his seat—also came out. His name was Ryan, and when he saw us, he invited us in. “Is it okay to go into the lab?” “The people doing the experiment are inside; out here is a meeting area, it’s fine.” Chloe nodded a few times and pulled me to sit in an empty seat. Ryan sat across from Chloe, and I listened from the side. A senior is a senior; his skills were no joke. It wasn’t long before Chloe nodded in sudden realization. I was just about to ask something when the lab door was pushed open. The person who walked in stared at the three of us. “Hey, Liam, you’re back?” The person who came in was exactly the handsome guy with glasses who sat opposite me at the library last time. So his name was Liam. Liam’s gaze swept over Chloe and me. Ryan explained: “Oh, these are the freshmen we met at the library last time. They had a few questions they couldn’t solve, so they came to ask.” “Mhm.” Still that cold, aloof attitude. Chloe and I exchanged a look. Chloe pulled me up. “Well, um, thank you so much, Ryan. We’ll get going now.” “No problem, anytime. Oh, by the way, our lab is short two assistants. Are you guys interested?” Ryan suddenly asked. Chloe and I both froze. Then I acutely sensed Liam frown. Obviously, this guy was not thrilled about the idea. I was just about to decline. But Chloe said: “Sure! Um, Audrey, go ahead, get his number, we’ll be in touch.” Wait, why did I have to get his number? Didn’t she already have Ryan’s? While I was wondering this, Chloe pushed me forward, winking furiously. I was riding a tiger and couldn’t get off. I walked over to Ryan and Liam with a dry laugh. Ryan was straightforward and cheerfully exchanged numbers. Then it was Liam’s turn. I could see he looked ready to refuse. Sure enough, when I stood in front of him, he glanced at me. The words of refusal were just about to leave his lips when he looked down at my profile QR code and froze. “This is your account?” He suddenly frowned and looked up at me. “Ah… yes. Is there a problem?” “What’s your name?” “Audrey Miller.” “…” As soon as I said it, Ryan next to him burst out laughing. Liam looked completely speechless. I felt a bit awkward: “You can just call me Audrey.” “Where are you from?” “Hey, Liam, are you doing a background check?” Before I could answer, Ryan spoke up. And received a glare from Liam. Then Liam continued to stare at me: “Answer.” “B-Boston.” I shivered; I had to answer. But answering seemed to make things worse. Because after hearing my answer, the guy doing the “background check” suddenly let out a laugh. Then he looked me up and down. That look… how should I describe it? It was like looking at a captured prey. It made my hair stand on end. I felt like Liam was hostile toward me. Even though he had a smile on his face, it didn’t reach his eyes. It was the kind of smile that was purely superficial. “Did pretty well on your SATs to get into MIT, huh.” That sounded weird. I didn’t quite process it at the moment and just nodded dumbly. “I-it was okay.” Liam smiled again. As if out of anger. But this time he took out his phone and scanned my QR code. “Fine. Come to the lab tomorrow after class.” Huh? Forget me, even Ryan was stunned. “Weren’t you just… unwilling?” He was forced to swallow his words before he could finish. 06 Because we joined Liam’s lab, Chloe and I didn’t join any other clubs. Just one lab was exhausting enough. Ryan had applied to their advisor for Chloe and me to have assistant positions. Twice a week, two hours at a time. Every time it ended, Chloe would let out a groan of exhaustion. But I was even more pitiful. Before I could even agree with her, a message popped up on my phone. “Liam asked me to go back to the lab again. There’s a calculation error in some data.” I got up. Chloe looked at me with pity. “Audrey, did you do something to offend Liam?” “No, I only met him for the first time.” “Then why is he working you to the bone every day?” When I entered the lab, I was assigned to shadow Liam. Chloe shadowed Ryan. After finishing our first day of experiments, Chloe expressed her condolences for my life as an assistant. “I heard from Ryan that Liam is an academic maniac. Audrey, you’re so pitiful.” During this time, I had a deep understanding of that statement. When Liam did experiments, he truly went without sleep or food. I went back to the lab building. Liam was the only one left in the lab. He was wearing a white lab coat and safety goggles. The whiteboard next to him was densely covered with calculated experimental data. “Liam.” Liam didn’t even look at me, just pointed to the whiteboard next to it. “The stuff I just sent you. Recalculate it.” “Oh.” The experimental data calculation was massive and repetitive. Once I started calculating, I lost track of time. “Done?” “Almost.” I answered honestly. Liam glanced at the clock on the wall. “What part don’t you understand?” “Here.” I pointed to a spot. Liam walked over and took the whiteboard marker from my hand. “Watch.” This immediate, no-nonsense tutoring style inexplicably reminded me of Harvard Bro. Liam put down the whiteboard marker. “Understand?” “I… I think so.” “Okay, it’s late, go back first. We’ll continue tomorrow.” Liam turned and said to me. “I’ll recalculate it one more time before I leave.” Liam, who was taking off his lab coat, paused. “Experiments are important, but your health is the most important. Go back and rest first, you’ll have a clearer mind to learn tomorrow. We’re done for today.” He hung up his lab coat and added: “I’m the only one with a key. Are you going to make me stay here with you?” “Ah, no, it’s fine.” Only a few key personnel had keys to the lab. I didn’t dare take a key, and I certainly didn’t dare make Liam stay with me. 07 We left the lab building. He said he would walk me directly back to my dorm. Unable to refuse, I followed silently. The whole walk was incredibly awkward. I felt I should find a topic to break the silence. “Um, thank you.” “It was nothing.” “…” There was no way to continue this conversation. I tried a few other topics, but Liam shut them all down. I think Chloe was right. Liam probably only had experiments in his brain. When I got back to the dorm, I complained to Chloe. Chloe considered it for a moment and said: “Could it be that you’re just bad at finding topics to talk about?” “Really? I thought the topics I picked were pretty good.” “But your conversation was so awkward. Are you like this with other guys too?” Other guys? I thought back. Besides my high school classmates, The only other guy was Harvard Bro. Even though we only talked online and never met in person, Our conversations flowed very smoothly. Especially Harvard Bro, he never let a conversation die. Comparing them, I suddenly missed Harvard Bro even more. I sighed. I wonder how Harvard Bro is doing now? I had originally planned to meet up with him and thank him in person after the SATs. If I added him back now… Once the thought popped up, it grew wildly like weeds. I agonized over it for days. Finally, I convinced myself: Logically and emotionally, I owed him an apology and a thank you. So, I unhesitatingly clicked on that familiar profile, And sent a friend request. 08 But after waiting for half the day, there was no acceptance. I felt deflated. He was probably still angry and didn’t want to accept my friend request. In a bad mood, I slouched through the entire morning. But just after classes ended in the afternoon, I actually had a new message in my notifications. “The other party has accepted your friend request.” Harvard Bro! I sat up straight in excitement and couldn’t wait to send the first message. “Harvard Bro! Long time no see!” “…” Looking at those ellipses, it felt so familiar. I was just about to type a long paragraph expressing my gratitude and how much I missed him, When a message from him popped up. “Why did you delete me?” “…” Oh man, I was planning to gradually lead into this topic, I didn’t expect him to cut straight to the chase. Fortunately, there was a screen between us, so he couldn’t see my embarrassment. I guiltily typed out a few words: “I was too embarrassed to face you.” “You got into MIT and you’re too embarrassed to face me?” “You knew about that?” “…” He fell silent again. I remembered I had posted a picture of my MIT freshman orientation on Instagram. He probably saw it. At this point, I could only apologize with the utmost sincerity. I explained my guilt and regret over the past few months. And casually mentioned that I had always wanted to go to MIT. It’s just that he kept motivating me with “Harvard, Harvard.” I was afraid of disappointing him, which was why I lied about not doing well on the test at the very beginning. I sent a flurry of messages. He didn’t reply again. I thought he was angry again. Ten minutes later, his message came through. “I was doing an experiment.” “Yeah, MIT is pretty good too.” Oh, so Harvard Bro wasn’t angry. The tension in my heart instantly lifted. It seemed I had found the relaxed feeling of chatting with him again. “Doing an experiment? Harvard Bro, are you still in school?” “Yeah, doing a joint Master’s/Ph.D. program.” “Wow! That’s awesome, what’s your major?” “Materials Engineering.” Huh?! Isn’t that the same major as me?! I was instantly thrilled. My eyes lit up: “That’s my major too! Harvard Bro, we really have a connection.” “…” He stopped talking again. But it didn’t matter. The rock that had been weighing on my heart was finally lifted. 09 After making up with Harvard Bro, my mood improved significantly. Even when Liam dragged me to do experiments until nine at night, I didn’t complain. Chloe was shocked and wondered if I had been assimilated by Liam. And ever since I found out Harvard Bro and I were in the same major, I asked him immediately whenever I didn’t understand something. It felt like being back to when he was tutoring me for my senior year. That night, I was chatting with Harvard Bro as usual. There was a step in today’s experimental data that I didn’t understand. I could only write it down and ask Harvard Bro when I got back. After Harvard Bro answered my questions, he asked me, puzzled: “Why didn’t you say something while you were doing the experiment earlier?” Me: “I was afraid the senior mentoring me would think I’m stupid.” “…” Once I started, I couldn’t help but complain. Being Liam’s assistant wasn’t bad, per se. After all, I was indeed learning a lot. But one thing was… his brain just worked too fast. Before I could even figure out how the previous step formed, he had already jumped to the conclusion. Maybe to him, those steps were simple and could be skipped. But to me… I honestly couldn’t keep up. “I suspect his brain is a computer. He doesn’t even have to think; his head is just full of programming.” I sent the message. Harvard Bro didn’t reply again. He was probably doing an experiment again. The next day I went to the lab. I arrived early; the lab wasn’t open yet. I waited for a bit and saw Liam arriving late. “Hi, Liam.” I greeted him. He glanced at me and gave an “Mhm.” When the experiment was over and I was packing my things, Liam suddenly called out to me: “Audrey.” “What?” “Is there anything you didn’t understand about today’s experiment?” Huh? I looked at Liam in surprise. He was wearing a white lab coat, his safety goggles resting over his own glasses. Seeing me look at him, Liam actually coughed. His expression seemed a bit unnatural. “I said, is there anything you didn’t understand about today’s experiment?” “Oh, yeah, yeah, I do.” I immediately pulled out my little notebook, ready to be a diligent student. Liam answered my questions one by one. In the end, he actually said: “If you don’t understand anything in the future, just come directly to me.” “Okay, sure. Thank you.” Liam gave an “Mhm” and left the lab. When I got back to the dorm, I couldn’t wait to message Harvard Bro. “Harvard Bro, the sun must have risen in the west today! The senior I shadow for experiments actually asked me if there was anything I didn’t understand after we finished.” “And?” “Harvard Bro, you are truly my lucky star.” I sent several emojis in a row. No reply from his end. But I was used to it. 10 The following days were busy and fulfilling. As Chloe and I spent more time as assistants, we got familiar with the seniors in the lab. Occasionally, we would all go out for meals together. “Audrey, Chloe, are you free tonight? Everyone’s getting together for dinner.” “Sure!” “Okay.” I only realized after I agreed that Liam was still beside me calculating data. Come to think of it, In the two months I’ve been his assistant, I rarely see Liam eat with everyone else. “Liam, are you going to the dinner tonight?” Liam looked up at me. His eyes were truly beautiful. It’s a pity they were too cold when he looked at people. I never really dared to talk to him. If his attitude hadn’t changed recently, I really wouldn’t have dared to ask that. Just when I thought Liam wouldn’t agree, He actually took off his safety goggles. “Sure.” He agreed?! I was surprised and shocked. Everyone chatted happily at the dinner that night. I took out my phone and habitually sent a message to Harvard Bro. “Harvard Bro, I’m out at a dinner with the seniors from the lab today.” After sending the message, I waited for his reply. I looked up and saw Liam sitting across from me. Even though we were all here for dinner, he was quietly sitting there like an outsider. Liam had his head down, seemingly playing with his phone. I don’t know why, but he actually looked up at me. That sudden glance… Made my heart race in panic. Fortunately, my phone chimed. Harvard Bro replied. He asked: “And then?” “No ‘and then,’ just letting you know.” “…” Hmm… This conversation topic was a bit boring. I was just preparing to find a new topic. When someone at the table called my name. “Audrey, don’t just play on your phone, join the conversation.” “Huh? Oh, okay.” I looked up blankly. Liam had also put down his phone when I was called out. But he looked like he was in a better mood than before. There was actually a faint smile on his face. I was puzzled. Playing on his phone made him that happy? I was forced to join the conversation. Someone asked me: “Hey, Audrey, do you have a boyfriend?” Huh? As soon as those words were spoken, the whole table looked at me. Being suddenly stared at, I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. How should I answer? Was someone trying to set me up? My heart only had room for studying, not love! Suddenly, a flash of inspiration hit me, And I blurted out: “I do.” As soon as the words fell, the table went quiet. Chloe stared at me wide-eyed. “When did you get a boyfriend? How did I not know?” I gave a dry laugh: “Hahaha, I like to keep a low profile.” I suddenly felt a sharp gaze land on me. I looked up, And it was actually Liam. Why was he glaring at me?

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “438312”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the rest of the world woke up with memories of the apocalypse, I became the only outlier. My parents, who had always loved me more than anything in the world, didn’t hesitate to liquidate every single asset we owned, handing every last cent over to the Global Defense Coalition. Even my boss, a man so notoriously cheap he’d squeeze a dime until it bled, suddenly open-sourced all of our company’s highly classified proprietary tech. He went on national television and said we had to carry the weight of this alongside the rest of humanity. It was as if someone had pressed a massive, invisible “Unite” button on the entire planet. Everyone was violently, desperately preparing for a coming catastrophe. Everyone except me. I had absolutely no idea what was going on. I was a stranger in my own reality. The exact moment my parents realized I didn’t possess these “reborn” memories, the look in their eyes completely fractured. It was a gaze so complex and utterly terrifying that it made my pulse hammer in my throat, yet I couldn’t put a name to the emotion behind it. From that day forward, my life went dead silent. They never spoke another word to me. Just like that, I was thoroughly and completely abandoned by the entire human race. 1. Brrrring. My alarm jolted me awake. April 3, 2026. The morning sun was pouring through the blinds, bright and completely ordinary. I was just reaching out to swipe off the alarm when a text popped up from my boyfriend, Gavin: “Jo, I messed up. I’m so sorry. I can’t live without you! Please, just give me one more chance? For the next three years, I swear I won’t leave your side for a single second!” I stared at the screen, entirely dumbfounded. Why on earth was Gavin sending me something like this? We were still deeply in the honeymoon phase. We hadn’t even had a fight, let alone broken up! Before my brain could even process his text, an audio message from my mom chimed in: “Joanna, your father and I are on our way to your apartment right now. We’re going to be together, sweetheart. All of us. We are never, ever being separated again!” Hearing the hysterical, sobbing crack in my mother’s voice only deepened my confusion. What the hell had happened overnight? It wasn’t just my parents and my boyfriend acting like they’d lost their minds. My company’s Slack channel was exploding. “I’m drafting an itinerary to backpack across the globe. Who’s coming with me?” “I’m in! I’ve been a corporate slave my whole life and I haven’t even seen the Pacific Ocean. I’m actually going to live this time!” “A vacation? Are you kidding me? You selfish cowards, the world is on the brink and you’re only thinking about yourselves…” Two distinct factions were ripping into each other in the general chat. I sat up in bed, eyes wide, totally paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of it. Our company policy explicitly forbade non-work-related chatter in the main channels. If anyone so much as posted a meme, our tyrannical boss, Mr. Wallace, would usually swoop in and dock their bonuses. Why were my coworkers acting so recklessly? And was Wallace just sleeping in? Why hadn’t he intervened? Through the fog of my confusion, the doorbell rang. My parents were here. I practically sprinted to the door, desperate to ask them what was going on. But before I could even get a word out, my mother lunged forward, wrapping me in a suffocating embrace, weeping so hard her whole body shook. My dad, a man who treated emotional vulnerability like a physical allergy, had eyes that were bloodshot and brimming with tears. “Joanna, listen to me. We’re selling the house. We’re giving the funds to the federal emergency mandate, and we’re moving into this apartment with you.” “This way, we can do our part for the survival effort, and we get to stay together!” I physically recoiled, the words tearing out of me: “Dad, are you insane?” “If you missed me, you could have just come to visit! Why would you sell the house? What about your retirement?” The second those words left my mouth, my mother’s sobbing stopped. Instantly. Her expression morphed with a whiplash-inducing speed. She looked at me with a bizarre, almost panicked scrutiny. The warmth drained from my father’s face, leaving behind something cold and hardened. “Joanna, what are you talking about?” “You’re the most educated person in this family. You’ve always been the rational one. You know perfectly well that right now, humanity has to stand united. We have to give everything we have to the state. Otherwise, none of us are going to live to see retirement.” “How could you say something so selfish?” I felt like the floor was tilting. None of this made any sense. “Dad, I literally don’t understand a word you’re saying!” I cried. “Are we at war? Did the country get attacked? Even if we are, the government doesn’t need the money from our suburban three-bedroom!” In the next heartbeat, the look in my parents’ eyes shifted from confusion into something else. Something resembling pure, unadulterated dread. When they spoke, their voices were hoarse, trembling with a probing terror. “Joanna…” “Do you really… not remember anything?” 2. Their deeply unsettling reaction was making my skin crawl. “What am I supposed to remember?!” I demanded, throwing my hands up. “I’m going to be late for work. Just tell me what’s going on, stop with the cryptic nonsense!” My dad stumbled backward. Two full steps. My mom desperately tried to reach out to me, to say something, but my dad grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Are you out of your mind? You can’t talk to her!” “You’re the one who’s out of your mind, she’s our daughter! She just hasn’t fully acclimated to the Return yet, her memories just haven’t—” My mom shoved him away and fiercely grabbed both of my hands. “Jo, sweetheart, did you forget? We are all Returners. Three years from now, the end of the world happens. We all died. But we’ve been given a second chance. We’ve been sent back.” “Our only chance at survival is to pool every single resource we have and face this together!” I stared at her. A beat of total silence passed before a sharp, incredulous laugh punched its way out of my chest. “Did you guys really drive all the way over here at eight in the morning to pull this ridiculous prank on me?” I glanced at my phone. 8:50 AM. If I didn’t leave right now, I was actually going to be late. And Wallace never hesitated to dock pay for tardiness. “Look, I have to go to work. Whatever this is, we can talk about it tonight.” I didn’t believe a single word of their sci-fi doomsday pitch. I sidestepped them and hurried out the door. They didn’t try to stop me. As I walked down the hall, I could faintly hear my mother’s gut-wrenching wails echoing from inside my apartment. “Why did it have to be this way? God, why did it have to be our little girl?” Her grief grated on my nerves. Part of me suspected this was some elaborate, manipulative theatrical performance to get me to agree to them selling the house. They had brought up liquidating their assets to play the stock market before. I had vehemently talked them down, terrified they would lose their entire nest egg. Were they trying this angle again? But I wasn’t a child. What was the point of using such an absurd, unbelievable lie? “Jo!” Gavin’s voice shattered my racing thoughts. He was standing by the entrance of my apartment complex, frantically waving at me from a distance. “I already quit my job, Jo! Every single second I have left is going to be devoted to you. We are never spending a minute apart!” Looking at Gavin’s red-rimmed eyes and the desperate, manic devotion swimming in them, I suddenly remembered the text he had sent me. He had said he wouldn’t leave my side for the next three years. My parents had just said the world ends in three years. Was Gavin playing along with this “Returner” prank too? No. I froze in my tracks, my eyes locking onto his. “Gavin, did my parents put you up to this? Did they tell you they want to sell the house, and you’re helping them gaslight me?” Gavin blinked, genuine bewilderment washing over his face. I knew his expressions well enough to know he wasn’t acting. Ping— His phone buzzed. From where I stood, I could see my father’s contact photo pop up on his lock screen, though I couldn’t read the text. I took a step toward him. “What did my dad just text you?” Gavin didn’t answer. A second ago, he had looked like a man violently, desperately in love with me. Now, his eyes widened in sheer, abject horror. He pointed a trembling finger at me, stumbling backward as if I were holding a loaded gun. “You… you…” “You’re not one of us!” He let out a strangled, guttural noise and turned on his heel, sprinting away without once looking back. I tried texting him. Message Not Delivered. You have been blocked. I tried calling him. Straight to voicemail. I opened my phone, intending to reach out to one of Gavin’s friends, only to be met with something far more terrifying. My social media feeds. Almost everyone I knew, as if part of some massive, synchronized cult, had posted screenshots of digital receipts. They were entirely liquidating their bank accounts, their stocks, their properties, and transferring the funds to a newly formed Global Defense Coalition. 3. I clicked on a link from one of the screenshots. It took me to an official, government-backed portal. It was real. The site was clunky, clearly rushed into existence overnight, but it had a public ledger. You could type in a donor’s name and see exactly what they had surrendered. I typed in my father’s name. They had done it. They had actually surrendered their life savings and the deed to the house. It wasn’t a scheme to play the stock market. They weren’t lying. A shard of ice slid down my spine. At that exact moment, I saw my parents rushing out of my apartment building. “Are you really from the future?!” I yelled, running toward them. But the moment they saw me, it was like they were looking at a ghost. They violently flinched, veering away to avoid coming anywhere near me. They scrambled into their car. I threw myself in front of the hood, desperate for an answer. My father didn’t even hesitate. He slammed his foot on the gas. I barely threw myself out of the way in time, scraping my knees on the asphalt. They hadn’t even tapped the brakes. They didn’t care if they killed me. I sat on the pavement, the world spinning out of focus. Why? Why had the people who loved me most—my parents, the man I was going to marry—suddenly severed all ties with me? Just because they were “Returners” and I wasn’t? Brrrring— My phone rang, pulling me out of my shock. It was my boss, Wallace. His voice was frantic, breathless. “Where the hell are you? Have you looked at the time?” “Get to the office right now. We need you to finalize the upload of all our proprietary algorithms to the Global Crisis Database…” White noise roared in my ears. Wallace worshipped money. Making him lose a dollar was like drawing blood. Our new algorithm was projected to double our quarterly revenue, and he was just giving it away to an open-source global database? There was only one logical conclusion left. The world really was ending. Half an hour later, scrolling through the news on my commute, I confirmed it. The entire globe was mobilizing to face a crisis three years away. I scoured comment sections, forums, and subreddits. Not a single person was questioning the concept of waking up with future memories. That meant it was everyone. Every single human being on Earth was a Returner. Except me. Because I wasn’t a Returner, my boyfriend and my parents were terrified of me. They cut me off to survive. But the logic didn’t track. Even if I didn’t have memories of the apocalypse, I was just one woman. How could one ordinary person possibly threaten the survival of the world? There had to be another reason they were so afraid of me. When I got to the office, I played it safe. I didn’t breathe a word about my memory gap. I pretended to be one of them. I sat down with the engineering team and seamlessly helped them upload our life’s work to the public domain. At lunch, everyone gathered in the breakroom. The air was thick with a strange, manic energy. A few people were talking about blowing their savings to live out their wildest fantasies, trying to make up for regrets they carried from their “previous” deaths. But the vast majority had already enlisted in the colossal, global engineering projects being drafted to prepare for the end. When there was a lull in the conversation, I took a calculated risk. I mimicked the exact look of visceral terror I had seen on my mother’s face that morning. “Did you guys hear?” I whispered, keeping my voice shaky. “I… I ran into someone today. A guy. He didn’t remember. He wasn’t a Returner.” The words hung in the air. Instantly, the entire breakroom went dead silent. The blood drained from my coworkers’ faces. The atmosphere became so heavy and suffocating it was hard to breathe. 4. I knew it. Their reaction confirmed my deepest suspicion: there was something monstrously wrong with not being a Returner. I kept my mouth shut, waiting for them to start whispering, waiting to glean some scrap of information. The office gossip, a guy who usually never stopped talking, broke the silence with a trembling voice. “Are… are there really people who didn’t return?” “Because if there are, that means—” “Shut up!” The tech lead, Diane, cut him off with a voice like cracked ice. She stood up slowly, her finger raising to point directly at my chest. “Did you all hear exactly what she just said?” Diane asked, her eyes boring into mine. “She said she met a Returner…” She paused, her voice dropping to a terrifying hiss. “She said she met a person who didn’t remember.” I didn’t understand why the singular phrasing was an issue, but the effect was immediate. It was as if a spell had been broken. Every single person in the room lunged out of their chairs, scrambling backward, putting as much physical distance between us as the breakroom allowed. I realized I had made a fatal error. I forced a nervous laugh, trying to do damage control. “Guys, what’s going on? Are you misunderstanding me? I’m not the one who—” “Then answer me this,” Diane interrupted, her tone lethal. “What was the specific catalyst that wiped out human civilization in our previous timeline?” I froze. My mind raced, but I had nothing. The internet forums had confirmed an impending apocalypse, but nowhere—not a single post, not a single article—had mentioned how the world ended. Were they deliberately censoring the cause of the apocalypse? Was the entire planet actively conspiring to keep this information from me? But… why? I was just an ordinary woman. What could possibly make me so dangerous? My silence was all the answer they needed. Without another word, my coworkers turned and practically fled the room. No matter what I screamed after them, not a single person looked back. Ten minutes later, the alert that I was a “Non-Returner” was pushed to every digital device on the planet. I was systematically erased from society. My landlord dragged my belongings onto the sidewalk. Every grocery store, restaurant, and hotel refused to process my cards or let me through their doors. I was banned from every public space. In fact, I was strictly forbidden from being anywhere near another human being. A squad of heavily armed, tactical military personnel was assigned to tail me. Their only job was to corral me away from population centers. I was forced to scavenge through dumpsters in the dead of night just to find scraps to eat. I was thrust into an existence of pure, unadulterated isolation, drowning in a sea of confusion and loneliness that felt worse than death. “Why?!” “I don’t have the memories, I get it! But I am willing to give everything for the future of humanity, including my life!” “If I am a threat to you, then just put a bullet in my head right now!” I stood in an empty, desolate lot, screaming at the squad of soldiers watching me through their scopes from a hundred yards away. “Why are you doing this to me? Why torture me? Why did you make my parents abandon me?!” They didn’t answer. They never did. A full year passed. I hadn’t exchanged a single word with another human being in 365 days. From my forced exile in the wilderness, I watched massive, monolithic space elevators pierce the clouds, built to harvest resources from other planets. I watched as armadas of interstellar warships blotted out the sun. And down in the dirt, there was just me. A fragile woman made of flesh and bone, someone who could be taken out by a single stray bullet. What made me worthy of this global quarantine? My sanity began to fracture. Late one night, I snuck back toward the edge of the city limits to rummage through the industrial trash bins. But this time, I wasn’t hoping to find food. And I had finally stopped harboring the delusion that my parents might sneak out to save me out of familial love. I was utterly, totally broken. I dug through the refuse until I found a jagged, heavy shard of shattered glass. Without a second thought, I drove it deep into the side of my neck. I thought I was finally buying my freedom. But the soldiers guarding me wouldn’t even let me die. They swarmed me with terrifying speed, applying advanced, futuristic trauma care. When I woke up, the wound was entirely sealed, and I had been dumped further out into an uninhabited wasteland. But something had shifted inside me. I was no longer drowning in despair. The fear was gone. I looked up at the sky, obscured by the shadows of a thousand battleships, and let out a dry, raspy laugh. “I know why you’re all so afraid of me.”

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I was driving when the radio host casually dropped the bombshell about the rumored romance between Craig Ellsworth and Daphne. He frantically reached over to kill the volume, tripping over his own words as he rushed to explain. I just gave a careless shrug, telling him I knew it was all tabloid trash. When he kept rambling, practically begging for absolution, I laughed and teased that I’d even help him cover it up in front of his parents. The words had barely left my mouth when he slammed his foot on the brake. All the color drained from his face. It reminded me of that night not so long ago, when he had grabbed his ex-girlfriend by the arm and dragged her into a hotel room right in front of me. He had sneered at me then, his voice dripping with venom, saying that since I was so paranoid, he might as well give me a show. The breathless, muffled moans that had filtered through the phone receiver later that night shattered the very last remnant of whatever we used to be. From that moment on, I never shed another tear of jealousy. I never picked another fight. 1. The moment Craig Ellsworth took Daphne to that hotel room, our marriage effectively flatlined. So, when I heard their names strung together once again, praised by internet strangers as a match made in heaven, the breakdown I expected never came. Daphne was a prominent influencer. She had built a massive following on TikTok and Instagram by romanticizing her life as a Stanford graduate living her best life. A month ago, Craig made a cameo on her feed. It was an Instagram Story—just a two-second live photo. You could catch a fleeting blur of Craig’s distinct profile in the background. But more glaringly, sitting right there on the nightstand, was a box of Trojan condoms. The internet works fast. Within hours, sleuths had identified the mystery man as the elusive CEO of Vanguard Holdings. The screenshot went viral, climbing the trending charts on Twitter and TikTok. Her comment section was flooded: [Daphne!! Give us the tea, are you in a relationship?!] [Wait, isn’t that the CEO of Vanguard?] [Omg, the guy in the back is insanely hot. They look so good together.] Reading those comments, I had stood frozen in the middle of our living room. That unmistakable little gold-foil box practically screamed what was happening between them. A bone-deep chill washed over me. When Craig came home that night, I had waited for an explanation. He brushed it off with a handful of dismissive words. “It’s just a misunderstanding.” When I didn’t react, he added, “I’ve already had my PR team kill the story.” But after that, Daphne’s name became an inescapable phantom in my life. I heard the nurses gossiping about it during my shifts at the hospital. The algorithm, cruel and precise, constantly pushed her latest posts to my feed. The rumors of her and Craig only grew louder. The whole world, it seemed, was heavily invested in guessing the nature of their relationship. 2. The following weekend, Craig went on a “business trip.” I had made plans with a girlfriend for a spa weekend in the Hamptons. And there, lounging at the luxury resort, I saw them. Craig and Daphne. She was wearing a string bikini, her flawless figure on full display, with an oversized, expensive men’s suit jacket draped over her shoulders. Craig was right beside her. His dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled up to the forearms, tailored trousers hugging his long legs. He looked utterly relaxed, completely in his element. Walking side-by-side, they were the picture-perfect couple. Craig leaned in slightly, tilting his head to catch whatever she was saying. I couldn’t hear the words, but they both broke into a synchronized, intimate smile. Later, Daphne went into the cabana to change. She emerged in a sheer white slip dress, but she kept his jacket firmly draped around her. I watched them disappear into the same private suite. Without thinking, I followed. Driven by some masochistic ghost, I pushed the heavy oak door open. My mouth moved faster than my brain. The accusation tore out of me: “Craig, you’re sleeping with Daphne, aren’t you?” Then, I froze. The suite wasn’t empty. A room full of executives and associates turned in unison to stare at me. Craig looked at me. His eyes were perfectly hollow. Glacial. He looked away, his jaw tight, and spoke barely above a whisper. “Get the door, please.” I forgot how to breathe. His utter dismissal was a public execution. The sheer humiliation radiated through my bones. The spa weekend was ruined. I made a hollow excuse to my friend and fled the resort. Craig didn’t come home until late that evening. Part of me felt awful for crashing his meeting, but beneath the guilt was a violent, uncontrollable swell of hurt. The bitterness rose in my throat, choking me. I couldn’t hold it back. “Craig, are you cheating on me?” I demanded. “What exactly is your relationship with her?” He gave me a sideways glance, his demeanor entirely detached. “Jodie. What exactly do you want our relationship to be?” he asked, his voice dripping with condescension. “Barging in like that in front of a dozen people—did you even for a second consider how you were affecting her reputation?” My mind went entirely blank. My stomach dropped through the floor. His coldness was a surgical blade, slipping perfectly between my ribs. Craig cast one last disgusted look at me, then turned his back and vanished into the darkness of the house. 3. The cold war began. Craig started taking back-to-back business trips. The final, fatal blow happened at a boutique hotel in Manhattan, a property owned by Vanguard. I saw them in the lobby. Daphne and Craig. I watched them step into the private elevator reserved for the penthouse suites. I followed them up. “Craig.” They both stopped in the dimly lit corridor and turned to face me. I looked at my husband. “Is this your ‘business trip’? Booking a suite with your ex-girlfriend?” Craig let out a dark, breathless laugh. “Fine,” he said. “You’re so convinced I’m cheating on you?” He stepped closer, his shadow swallowing mine. “Do you want me to give you a show?” Before I could process the threat, his hand wrapped tightly around Daphne’s arm, pulling her toward the door of the suite. His eyes, pitch-black and fathomless, locked onto mine. “What? Aren’t you going to follow us in and see exactly what we do?” The door slammed shut in my face. The sound echoed down the empty hallway like a gunshot. My eyes burned. My throat constricted so tightly I couldn’t draw air, let alone speak. By the time I stumbled back into the elevator, my phone buzzed in my hand. An unknown number. I answered. No one spoke. There was only the quiet, rhythmic sound of a woman panting. Breathless. Ecstatic. I stood in the descending elevator for a long, long time. That unmistakable sound of intimacy confirmed everything. Craig and Daphne were crossing every line. A sharp ache pierced the bridge of my nose. Craig and I were finished. It was over. I hailed a cab outside the hotel. Sitting in the back seat, watching the city lights blur, I found myself scrolling through Daphne’s old digital footprint. The internet had dug up her old VSCO and Finsta accounts from high school and college. They had mapped out her entire romantic timeline with Craig. They were high school sweethearts. They went to Columbia University together, studying in different departments. Looking at her old posts, I saw a version of Craig I had never met. The Craig on her feed remembered her menstrual cycle and packed Advil for her. He patiently followed her to every trendy pop-up cafe in the city, holding her bags. He bought a professional camera and learned photography just so he could take the perfect candid shots of her. He took her to Disneyland. To the Hamptons. Her old feed was saturated in the blinding, sickeningly sweet pink of young love. Every word she wrote dripped with the security of a girl who knew she was adored. [He literally spent a month learning how to edit photos just for me.] [He tracks my period better than I do. I swear he loves me more than I love myself.] Under that post, an old comment read: [Omg Daphne, I’m a freshman from your high school! Everyone at Columbia still talks about you and Craig. You guys are literal goals. Forever endgame!] And Craig, using his own account, had replied to that freshman: [Thank you. I’m going to hold onto her for a long time.] Now, the old Columbia University Reddit threads were ablaze again, brought back to life by the recent rumors. [Craig and Daphne were the golden couple on campus. They only broke up because she left for Stanford, right?] [So this is the ultimate reunion? The one that got away?] [I have a wild theory. Daphne’s family isn’t exactly loaded. Stanford out-of-state tuition is insane. What if Craig footed the bill? That makes it even more romantic—the billionaire CEO grinding in NY to support his girl on the West Coast.] Craig flew out to California religiously every year. Daphne’s alma mater was in California. My hands shook violently against the illuminated screen. I didn’t dare think about it any deeper. 4. Ten minutes after I got home, the front door unlocked. Craig walked in. His suit was immaculate. Not a single hair out of place. He looked entirely undisturbed. My eyes were still red and swollen. I refused to look at him. He walked over and grabbed my wrist. “Nothing happened between us,” he said, his voice an attempt at soothing. “Earlier tonight… I was just angry. I was trying to provoke you.” He was explaining. But it was too late. The damage was in my marrow now. I gave a small, hollow nod. “Okay. I understand.” I didn’t speak another word to him for the rest of the night. The next morning, I felt entirely hollowed out, so I took a cab to the hospital. When my shift ended, the thought of going back to that house felt suffocating. Diane, an attending physician on my floor, had a night shift but desperately needed to attend her daughter’s parent-teacher conference. I offered to cover for her. The ER was a war zone that night. We had multiple trauma arrivals. By the time I finally scrubbed out of surgery, my phone screen was lit up with over a dozen missed calls. Diane rushed back into the breakroom, out of breath. “Jo, thank you so much,” she sighed, dumping her bag on the chair. “I heard you guys got slammed and you had to scrub in. I am so sorry. I brought you an iced matcha.” I didn’t bother being polite. I took the drink gratefully. “Thanks, Diane. I’m gonna head out now.” She smiled warmly. “I owe you one.” It was almost midnight when I walked out of the hospital sliding doors. Since I had cabbed to work, I ordered an Uber home. Only after I settled into the back seat did I actually check my phone. Every single missed call was from Craig. He had texted too: [Where are you?] [I’m in the hospital parking garage. I’m waiting for you.] I stared at the screen as the car merged onto the avenue. [Don’t bother.] [I’m already on my way home.] Shortly after I unlocked the front door, I heard his car pull into the driveway. Something fundamental had shifted inside me since that night at the hotel. Seeing him suddenly walk through the door left me feeling nothing but awkwardness. We stood in the foyer, staring at each other. The air was thick and strange. His dark eyes were fixed heavily on me. I looked away. Every time I looked at him now, I saw Daphne. I saw him dragging her into that room. I heard the breathless panting vibrating against my ear. I saw the ghost of their decade-long romance filling every corner of my house. I used to carry the weight of this marriage entirely on my own. I would come home and tell him about the weird patients in the ER, what I ate for lunch, desperately trying to spark a conversation. But now? Now I realized we had absolutely nothing to say to each other. The silence in the room was deafening. It reminded me of another one of Daphne’s old diary entries: [God, he talks so much. I’m literally falling asleep and he’s still dragging me into a conversation about his finance models.] My chest seized up tight. Craig’s deep voice shattered the quiet. “Weren’t you on the day shift? Why are you back so late?” I could feel the weight of his gaze tracking my every movement. I kept my back to him, walking over to the kitchen island to pour a glass of water. “Yeah.” I didn’t explain. I didn’t have the energy to. He didn’t deserve the details of my life anymore. When I turned around, he was standing right behind me. His lips parted, like he was trying to find the right words. I beat him to it, and he swallowed whatever he was about to say. “I’m going to take a shower.” When I stepped out of the bathroom, he was standing right outside the door. I jumped, startled. Catching his eye unexpectedly, I just gave a stiff nod and walked past him. Lying in the dark, my mind raced. Just sharing a mattress with him made my skin crawl. 5. Craig was an early riser. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, he had already showered and dressed in a crisp suit. Breakfast was laid out on the dining table. Craig sat there, his expression unreadable, reading the news on his tablet. Looking at the spread, my mind drifted again. I thought of Daphne’s tweet: [Told him I was craving a breakfast sandwich last night. Woke up to him in the kitchen making me the perfect BLT.] [His cooking is actually getting scary good.] A comment underneath: [You’re so lucky, girl.] Daphne’s reply: [Haha, hoping you find your own happily ever after!] “Jodie.” His voice snapped me back to the present. “Eat.” I blinked, checking the time on the microwave clock. “You go ahead. I’m running late.” A heavy hand clamped down on my forearm. Craig looked up at me through his lashes, his dark eyes intense and unyielding. “You have time. I’ll drive you.” I sat down, forcing myself to swallow a few bites of toast. “My grandmother wants us at the estate for dinner tonight,” he said smoothly. “I’ll pick you up from the hospital when you get off.” I nodded mechanically. “Fine.” When I stood up to leave, Craig rose with me. His tone left no room for argument. “I’m driving you.” I rejected him without a second thought. “No need.” I saw his brow twitch, a minute furrow of irritation, but I didn’t care. I grabbed my bag and walked out the door. 6. I grabbed lunch with Diane in the hospital cafeteria. Between bites of a terrible salad, she brought up the upcoming medical exchange program in Asheville, North Carolina. She let out a heavy sigh. “Man, my kid is applying to college this year. There is no way I can disappear for three months.” “Honestly, anyone with a family here is gonna pass on it,” she continued. “And the newlyweds? No chance they’re packing up for the South.” I looked up at her. “Diane, if you’re not taking it… I will.” She paused, fork halfway to her mouth. “Jo, are you serious?” I nodded firmly. “Yeah. I really want to use this opportunity to learn.” As soon as my tray was clear, I marched straight to the department head’s office and put my name on the list. Right as my shift was ending, my phone rang. Craig. I picked up, putting it on speaker as I organized my desk. His deep, velvet voice filled the small room. Diane and a few other nurses happened to be walking by. They stopped, leaning against the doorframe with knowing, teasing smiles. “Ooh, Jo. Is that the boyfriend?” I forced a laugh and shook my head. “No.” Through the speaker, Craig said, “I’m down in your parking garage.” “Okay, I’ll be right there.” The underground garage was dimly lit. He was leaning against his black G-Wagon, a tall, imposing silhouette. I walked toward him. To my horror, Diane was also heading to her car in the same aisle. She spotted us and walked over, her eyebrows raised in absolute delight. “Jo! Is this the boyfriend?” she beamed. “Not bad to look at, I gotta say.” My brain short-circuited. I spun a lie out of thin air. “No, no. He’s my cousin.” Craig slowly turned his head to look at me. His eyes darkened dangerously. Diane bought it immediately, her scandalous interest fading into polite nods. “Ah, gotcha. See you tomorrow!” I slid into the passenger seat. The leather felt suffocating. Craig got in, his jaw clenched tight. He turned to me, the engine idling. “Why did you say that?” I looked straight ahead, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “I don’t want my coworkers getting the wrong idea.” Craig flinched slightly. A deep frown etched into his forehead. “The wrong idea?” He put the car in drive and pulled out of the garage. The radio was on, tuned to a pop-culture SiriusXM channel. A bubbly host was mid-sentence. “…Vanguard CEO Craig Ellsworth and influencer Daphne were spotted at a luxury Hamptons resort recently. Daphne was wearing a tiny bikini, draped in Craig’s suit jacket. Let me tell you, the sexual tension in those photos is off the charts…” Craig slammed his hand against the console, killing the radio instantly. He exhaled sharply. “You were there that day. You know there were other investors present.” I stared out the window at the passing traffic. “I know,” I said lightly. Craig tried again. “Nothing happened between us.” A small, cynical smile touched my lips. I assumed he was just doing damage control so I wouldn’t rat him out to his family tonight. “Relax,” I said. “Your secret is safe with me. I won’t say a word to your grandmother.” Craig slammed his foot on the brake. The SUV lurched forward violently before skidding to a halt. The blood drained completely from his face. He stared at me, a violent storm of emotions swirling in his eyes.

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My wife had barely boarded her international flight when my phone vibrated with a banking notification. Incoming Transfer: $1,000,000.00. The sheer volume of the number was jarring enough, but it was the attached memo that slid into my ribs like a blade of ice. “This is my final compensation to you. From here on out, we go our separate ways. I’m moving overseas with her to start over.” My hand began to shake, the phone suddenly heavy and foreign in my grip. This wasn’t Norah. My Norah was grounded, relentlessly loyal. Even if her heart had somehow wandered, she was the kind of woman who would sit me down at our kitchen table, look me dead in the eye, and break me with the honest truth. Before I could even process the shock, the doorbell rang. A courier dropped an anonymous package on my porch and vanished. The moment I tore through the brown paper, the air evacuated my lungs. Inside was a stack of glossy photographs. My wife. And another woman. I recognized the stranger. Her name was Val. In the pictures, they were tangled together, Norah’s face lit up with a brilliant, breathless smile I hadn’t seen in years. But it was the very last photo that made the blood freeze in my veins. The background wasn’t a restaurant or a hotel room. It was the distinct, curved interior of an airplane cabin. A horrific, suffocating realization violently forced its way into my mind. I didn’t think. I just grabbed my phone and dialed 911. “I need to report a crime,” I gasped out, the words tasting like ash. “There’s a body on American Airlines Flight 3218.” The dispatcher’s voice was sharp, urgent, demanding the identity of the victim. A sob ripped its way up my throat, impossible to suppress. “It’s my wife. Norah.” … 1 Norah and I had been married for ten years. To our friends, we were the blueprint. The couple everyone envied. She used to lay with her head on my chest and talk about our future. How, even if we never had kids, we would grow old together, checking into a swanky retirement home, holding hands until the very end. But tonight, that beautiful, quiet illusion of a forever-love had been brutally shattered. Norah had packed for a last-minute business trip. The second her plane was in the air, she wired me a million dollars and left me a digital goodbye. In her message, she confessed to a seven-year betrayal. [Seven years ago, I fell in love with someone else. In that exact moment, I knew I was going to spend the rest of my life with them.] [I am so sorry, Theo. But I can’t fight who I am anymore.] She was giving me her entire life savings as a parting gift, a severance package for a decade of marriage. The message was absolute. Cold. Final. The moment she crossed international airspace, she and her lover were going to get married abroad. She left me no room to beg. No room to fight for her. Ten years of breathing the same air, and seventy percent of it had been built on a lie. I sat in the dead-silent living room. My heart was hammering against my sternum like a trapped bird, but my eyes were bone-dry. She had timed it perfectly. The flight was already in the air. She was gone, leaving me alone with a suffocating, toxic rage. The anger boiled over. I surged to my feet, marched into our bedroom, and ripped our massive, custom-framed wedding portrait off the wall. It hit the hardwood floor with a deafening crash, glass spiderwebbing over our smiling faces. I flicked open my lighter. The flame danced, inches away from the torn canvas of the photo, when the frantic pounding on the front door interrupted me. By the time I yanked the door open, the porch was empty. Just the anonymous package sitting innocently on the welcome mat. A memory flashed. Last year, Norah had pulled the exact same stunt. I had opened a mysterious box on the porch, and she had jumped out from behind the rhododendron bush, wrapping her arms around my neck with a bouquet of hydrangeas. “Happy ninth anniversary, husband!” For a split second, looking at this new box, a desperate, pathetic hope flared in my chest. Was this a prank? Did she remember today was our ten-year anniversary? Was she hiding in the shadows right now? With trembling fingers, I tore the package open. But there were no flowers. Only evidence. A handsome, sharp-jawed woman, pressing against my wife in a dozen different, intimate poses. Browsing boutiques. Sharing a candlelit dinner. Tangled up in the back seat of the SUV we shared… The photos slipped through my fingers, revealing the final Polaroid. The two of them, cheeks pressed together in the first-class cabin. Written in black marker across the bottom: [Norah & Val. Forever.] In the photo, Val’s eyes were locked dead on the camera. Smirking right at me. A victor’s gloat. It was designed to humiliate me. To provoke me. But as I stared at the harsh lighting of that airplane cabin, my rage suddenly evaporated, replaced by a cold, primal terror. Fighting the panic rising in my throat, I called the police. “I need to report a concealed corpse on Flight 3218!” I shouted into the receiver. “The victim… is my wife.” 2 The police drilled me for details, and I answered every question with rapid-fire precision. But when they asked for concrete proof, I choked. Silence stretched over the line. Every ticking second meant the plane was getting closer to the border. The dispatcher’s tone turned severe. They warned me that forcing a commercial international flight to turn around carried devastating federal consequences. If this was a hoax, the fines alone would exceed a million dollars. I could face serious prison time for inciting a panic and grounding a multi-million dollar route. I pressed my hand against my chest, feeling my erratic heartbeat. For one agonizing second, doubt crept in. If I was wrong—if I was just a paranoid, jealous husband—my life would be over. I’d be bankrupt and behind bars. But I looked down at the Polaroid again. Something about it… the lighting, the stiffness in Norah’s shoulders. The doubt vanished. My voice trembled, but it was forged in steel. “I am fully prepared to accept the consequences. Ground the plane. I need the truth.” While the police mobilized, I grabbed Norah’s work briefcase and bolted for my car, speeding toward the airport. Time was bleeding out. At every red light, I frantically dug through her files. My gut was screaming at me. This sudden “business trip” had to be connected to the massive expose she had been obsessed with. Norah was the senior investigative editor at The Tribune. For months, she had been quietly reopening a cold case—a string of grotesque serial murders from a decade ago. This trip was supposed to be a covert meeting with the sole surviving witness. Everything in her notes looked perfectly normal. I flipped through pages of rigid schedules and meticulously documented interviews. Norah was a creature of absolute habit. Her timeline left zero room for a secret, seven-year, globe-trotting affair. Even without physical proof, the idea that she had been lying to me hurt. It hurt like hell. I tossed the files onto the passenger seat, closed my eyes, and let out a ragged sigh. Suddenly, a dog darted into the street. I slammed on the brakes. I jolted forward, the seatbelt biting into my collarbone. The briefcase tumbled off the seat, spilling papers all over the floorboards. As I scrambled to gather the mess, my fingers brushed against the false bottom of her leather portfolio. A small, yellow sticky note fluttered out. It was Norah’s handwriting. Frantic. Rushed. [Flight pushed back a day. She has to be on this plane!] Every hair on the back of my neck stood up. The air in the car turned to ice. I ignored the blaring horns of the traffic jam at the airport entrance, abandoned my car at the curb, and sprinted through the sliding glass doors toward the international arrivals gate. The PA system chimed. The police had successfully forced the airline to return. I sat in the holding area, gripping Norah’s files so hard my knuckles were white. Every passing minute was a physical torture. I wiped my sweating palms on my jeans, my eyes locked on the secure exit doors. Finally, just as the sun began to dip below the terminal windows, the announcement echoed: “Flight 3218 has arrived at the gate.” I shot out of my chair, pressing myself against the glass partition. As the passengers were escorted out by federal agents, I spotted Detective Vargas leading the pack. I shoved my way forward, practically begging her. “Detective Vargas! Please, you have to investigate my wife’s murder!” I shoved the files toward her. “This is the cold case she was working on. It has to be connected!” Vargas didn’t even look at the papers. She pushed my hands away and pointed toward the back of the passenger line. “Mr. Davis,” she said, her voice dripping with exhaustion and disgust. “Your wife is right there, at the end of the line.” “And as for you,” she continued, “do you have any idea what you’ve just done? You grounded an international flight, terrified 113 passengers, and wasted federal resources. Do you have a lawyer?” I whipped my head around. My eyes locked onto the woman at the back of the line. She was wearing Norah’s beige trench coat. Her hair was styled just like Norah’s. And her fingers were intertwined with Val’s. My voice came out as a hollow, weightless whisper. “That’s impossible. That’s not my wife.” Because the passenger manifest for this flight… was 114. 3 Where was the missing passenger? That question clawed at my brain, expanding into a dark, bottomless abyss of terror. Seeing Detective Vargas turn to walk away, I grabbed her sleeve, desperate. “Please! Check the headcount again! Someone is missing!” Vargas yanked her arm free, her patience completely exhausted. “We did check, Mr. Davis. One passenger canceled at the absolute last second. The actual onboard count was 113. It matches perfectly.” She stepped closer, her tone lowering into a legal threat. “I don’t care about your messy divorce. But you don’t get to use the federal government to stage a domestic dispute. You’re looking at a million dollars in airline restitution, and I will personally see to it that you’re charged.” Her words hit me like a bucket of ice water. I was cornered. If I couldn’t prove the woman standing ten feet away wasn’t my wife, I was going to prison. I forced myself to breathe. To focus. I looked at the woman in the trench coat. She wore Norah’s wire-rimmed glasses. She stood with Norah’s stiff, slightly awkward posture. When a TSA agent asked her a question, she nervously pushed the bridge of her glasses up with her index finger—an exact mirror of Norah’s tic. The only difference was the way she clung to Val’s hand. I took a step forward, staring relentlessly into “Norah’s” face, hunting for the seams of the lie. Suddenly, my view was blocked. Val stepped between us, puffing out his chest with a nasty, mocking smile. “Hey, buddy. You should be begging the cops for a plea deal right now, not staring at my fiancée.” He crossed his arms, oozing arrogance. Behind him, the woman with Norah’s gentle eyes looked at me. But her gaze was a void. Pure, unadulterated ice. It took me a second to process. Val. The “handsome woman” from the photos was standing in front of me presenting as a man. The gender-bending disguise was deliberate, meant to confuse and disorient. I looked Val up and down, and a dark, hysterical laugh bubbled out of my chest. “You aren’t Val,” I said. “And she isn’t my wife.” Val’s jaw clenched. He lunged forward, raising a fist. I didn’t flinch. I just glanced over his shoulder at the armed federal air marshals. Val froze, lowering his hand but pointing a harsh finger at my chest. “You’re a real piece of work, Theo. Keep talking crazy. Let’s see how confident you are when the feds hand you that million-dollar invoice.” My fingernails dug crescent moons into my palms. Just then, the forensics team descended the jet bridge, shaking their heads at Vargas. Four officers, plus a K-9 unit. They found nothing. No body. No blood. Nothing. The narrative was cementing: I was just a psychotic, jealous husband who called in a bomb threat-level hoax to catch his wife cheating. Vargas glared at me. The passengers, realizing why their flight had been grounded, turned venomous. “Are you kidding me?! This psycho ruined our trip because he’s insecure?!” “I have a thirty-million-dollar merger waiting in London! I’m suing this lunatic!” The collective hatred of the room pressed down on me like a physical weight. I couldn’t breathe. Then, an electric jolt of realization hit me. The fake Norah hadn’t spoken a single word yet. If I could just get her to talk, I could prove it. I knew the cadence of my wife’s voice, the rhythm of her breathing. My heart hammering against my ribs, I shoved past Val and stood right in front of her. “Norah—” My voice cracked, the grief suddenly swelling in my throat. She cut me off. The voice was pitched perfectly, but the tone was dripping in a haughty, arrogant cruelty my wife had never possessed. “Theo, I didn’t want to do this here. The reason I wouldn’t have children with you all these years… is because Val and I already have a son. He’s six.” She tilted her head, enjoying the knife twist. “You wanted to force my hand? Fine. Are you satisfied now?” The sheer audacity of the lie hit me like a physical blow. I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. It was a broken, breathy sound. I reached up to wipe my face and realized my cheeks were soaked with tears. “Is that why you wired me a million dollars?” I asked softly. “As a… divorce settlement?” I expected her to maintain that flawless, arrogant mask. But for a fraction of a second, the muscles around her eyes tightened. A micro-hesitation. “…Yes.” In that single, quiet moment, a strange, terrible peace washed over me. The tears were still falling, but the panic was gone. If she was the one who wired the money, she wouldn’t have hesitated. She didn’t know what I was talking about. My wife was still on that plane. 4 Seeing the ground crew preparing to tow the plane to the hangar, I sprinted toward Vargas, practically throwing myself in her path. “Detective Vargas, I need you to weigh the aircraft! Please!” It was a theoretical forensic tactic Norah had explained to me years ago over dinner, while researching cartel smuggling routes. Vargas recoiled, her face flushed with anger. “Mr. Davis, this is a federal tarmac, not your personal theater! Step back!” The crowd groaned, the whispers turning into vicious insults. “If I had a husband acting like this, I’d fake my own death too.” “Arrest him already! He’s unhinged.” But I didn’t care. I looked wildly around and locked eyes with the forensic lead, Dr. Rossi. “Dr. Rossi! Check the gross takeoff weight versus the landing weight minus fuel burn!” Rossi paused. She looked at me, then turned to Vargas. “Actually… that’s a highly specific metric. It’s worth a check.” Reluctantly, the plane was towed onto the load cells. I stood in the terminal, my shirt plastered to my back with cold sweat. The adrenaline was making my vision blur. Minutes felt like hours. Finally, a technician jogged over, holding a tablet. “The aircraft is heavy,” he said, looking bewildered. “Factoring in fuel consumption… the plane is exactly 140 pounds heavier than it should be.” The weight of an adult human being. A deadly silence fell over the gate. Vargas’s annoyance vanished, replaced by the sharp, terrifying focus of a homicide detective. She grabbed the K-9 leash and marched back down the jet bridge herself. Dr. Rossi motioned for me to follow her toward the imposter. “We’re running biometric scans on-site,” she told the woman. They brought out the mobile scanners. Facial recognition. Retinal scans. Fingerprints. The machine beeped. Green light. Green light. Green light. It was a perfect biometric match. My stomach plummeted into an endless freefall. The crowd, which had gone quiet, immediately reignited. “See? He’s making it up!” “Maybe the ‘body’ on the plane is just him threatening her! Lock him up!” The conspiracy theories mutated in real-time. Suddenly, I wasn’t just a sad husband; I was a dangerous predator. The passengers backed away from me. Dr. Rossi remained clinical. She pulled out the final piece of equipment—a next-gen EEG polygraph headset. The woman sat down calmly and let Rossi attach the nodes to her temples. Rossi asked the baseline questions. Name. DOB. Purpose of travel. The woman answered flawlessly. The monitor held steady in the green. Then, Rossi asked about the million-dollar transfer. Again, I saw that micro-fraction of a pause. “I felt a moral obligation as his wife to provide for him.” I stared at the monitor, praying for a spike. The system processed the brainwaves… and flashed a steady, quiet green. The collective glare of the terminal felt like a physical heat. It was over. I looked crazy. The fake Norah stood up, smoothing her trench coat with delicate fingers. Val wrapped an arm around her, sneering at me. “The only one who needs a lie detector is you, man. If you hadn’t pulled this psycho stunt, my fiancée and I would be halfway to the Maldives.” The passengers started shouting at the airline staff, demanding my immediate arrest. I ground my teeth together, tasting copper. “Hook me up,” I told Dr. Rossi. I sat in the chair. The nodes were cold against my skin. The crowd watched, waiting for me to fail. I breathed through the panic, answering every question with cold, hard truth. The machine glowed green. Dr. Rossi’s face paled. If the woman wasn’t lying, and I wasn’t lying… what was the truth? Rossi pulled out the Polaroid of the two women. “Mr. Davis, why did this specific photo lead you to the conclusion that your wife was murdered, rather than just having an affair?” I closed my eyes. I reached into my bag and pulled out a battered, leather-bound notebook from seven years ago. I leaned in and whispered a single sentence into Dr. Rossi’s ear. The moment the machine registered my truth in brilliant green, Dr. Rossi bolted upright and pointed directly at the couple holding hands by the gate. “Arrest them right now! Nobody moves!”

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