1 I was escorting a high-value prisoner on a commercial flight when a flight attendant began openly flirting with the man next to me. I shot her a warning look and quietly asked her to move us to a secluded pair of seats. She rolled her eyes. “Do you own this airline? What’s the problem with me talking to this gorgeous guy? Are you jealous or just painfully single?” Her boldness left me speechless. I called for the chief attendant, but before help arrived, she broke into dramatic tears, telling everyone I was bullying her. Sympathetic and accusing eyes turned toward me. I could not explain aloud that the “gorgeous guy” was a notorious serial killer on death row. Just as the tension peaked, the prisoner made his move. He seized her in a chokehold and yelled for the pilot to turn the plane around. Since you’re so eager to please a man, now is your chance. … My name is Renee. I am a homicide detective. I spent three grueling months deep undercover just to track down Silas, a serial killer who had terrorized the entire country. It took everything I had to finally slap the cuffs on him. Following strict orders from the top brass, I was transporting him back to the state precinct via a commercial flight. Before boarding, my captain emphasized one rule above all else. Total secrecy. If the passengers found out who Silas was, it would trigger a mid-air panic. I kept my badge tucked away and draped a thick jacket over the steel cuffs binding Silas to my wrist. I whispered a harsh warning for him to behave, my eyes scanning every single face in the terminal. I couldn’t afford a single second of distraction. Shortly after the plane leveled out, a fresh-faced intern flight attendant pushed her beverage cart down the aisle. The moment her eyes landed on Silas, they stuck to him like glue. She purposefully slowed her pace, completely invading my personal space as she leaned over me to get closer to him. Her voice dripped with an artificial, sugary sweetness. “Hey handsome, what can I get you? Water, coffee, or maybe some juice?” Silas slowly looked up at her. A chilling smirk played at the corner of his mouth. My stomach dropped. I instantly answered for him. “No thank you. He doesn’t need anything. We are trying to rest, so please do not disturb us.” The intern acted like I was invisible. She shot me a look of pure disgust before leaning even closer to Silas. “Are you feeling okay, handsome? Do you need me to grab you some medicine?” I forced down the rising anger in my chest and deepened my voice, heavily stressing my next words. “I said we do not need anything. We want to rest. Do you not understand English?” I glanced around the half-empty cabin. “Also, I need you to move us to the back row. Keep us as far away from the other passengers as possible. I don’t like the noise.” That was apparently the wrong thing to say. The girl flared up like a cat backed into a corner. She slammed her plastic cup onto my tray table. Water splashed directly onto my shirt, but she didn’t offer a shred of an apology. “Excuse me, lady, but I was talking to him. Did I ask you?” “Did your daddy build this airplane? You think you can just demand seat changes? Why don’t you go sit on the wings then?” My eyebrows knitted together. I kept my voice as level as humanly possible. “We are traveling together. I am speaking for him. He isn’t eating or drinking. Please stop hovering.” I flicked my eyes downward, practically begging her to notice the silver handcuffs hidden beneath the coat. She was completely oblivious. Instead, she raised her voice, dripping with pure arrogance. “Drop the act, lady! You must be seriously starved for male attention if you’re throwing a tantrum just because I said hi to a hot guy!” Her loud, piercing tone drew the attention of half the cabin. Heads swiveled in our direction. “Seats on this flight are assigned. You think you’re some kind of royalty?” My eyes widened. I genuinely could not fathom how a supposedly trained professional was acting like a high school mean girl. Having said her piece, she turned back to Silas, her voice suddenly morphing into a whiny pout. “Sir, look at her. I was just trying to offer you good customer service, and she’s attacking me.” “If she tries to file a complaint against me after we land, you have to promise to defend me, okay?” Silas gave me a dark, amused look before speaking in a low, slow drawl. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. A pretty girl like you doesn’t deserve to be in trouble.” The intern blushed furiously, staring at her feet. She immediately dug a notepad out of her apron, scribbled down her number, and slid it toward him. “Here. My name is Brittany. Add me on Insta.” I took a massive breath, grinding my teeth together so hard my jaw ached. “I said, change our seats!” 2 Brittany jutted her chin out, looking completely untouchable. “And I said no! Even if you drop dead today, you’re dying in that exact seat!” My hands began to shake with suppressed fury. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Go get your Chief Flight Attendant right now! I want to know if this is the standard of professionalism Trans-Global Airlines accepts!” Brittany scoffed loudly. “God, women are so pathetic. Always letting jealousy ruin everything and instantly crying to the manager.” “Call her! You think I’m scared of you?” Whispers broke out across the cabin. A fiery rage spiked in my chest. I had been a detective for eight years. I had personally taken down some of the most vicious predators to ever walk the earth. But I had never met someone so willfully, painfully stupid. She had absolutely no idea that the gorgeous guy she was throwing herself at was a monster with hands soaked in innocent blood. The Chief Flight Attendant hurried over shortly after. She put on a polite, practiced smile. “Ma’am, is there a problem I can assist you with?” Before I could even open my mouth to explain, Brittany stepped forward and practically threw herself at the older woman. “Aunt Helen!” Then she buried her face in her hands and started sobbing hysterically, making sure every single passenger in the cabin was watching her performance. “Aunt Helen, this woman is bullying me! I was just doing my job, and she started screaming at me out of nowhere! She’s demanding a seat upgrade and threatening to get me fired!” She deliberately shouted the words bullying and fired, playing the role of a frail, helpless victim to absolute perfection. The passengers in the front rows swallowed the bait instantly. People started standing up, craning their necks to look. A few even pulled out their phones to record me, their voices laced with pity for the weeping intern. A middle-aged man in a polo shirt pointed a thick finger at me. “Hey lady, you need to back off! The poor kid is just an intern doing her job. What kind of monster threatens a young girl’s livelihood?” His wife nodded vigorously, glaring at me with utter contempt. “Exactly. Dressed so nice but acting like pure trash. That girl is someone’s daughter. You’ll have kids of your own someday, you know! Have some compassion!” “Some hags just can’t stand seeing a young, pretty face. It’s pure, bitter jealousy.” “Don’t worry, sweetie! If she tries to report you, we will all write to the airline and defend you!” A businesswoman across the aisle violently yanked off her sleep mask and shot me a lethal glare. “Can you shut up? Your life must be incredibly sad and pathetic if you get off on harassing service workers.” The wave of baseless accusations made my blood boil. “Are you all blind? Or just completely brain-dead?” “She is completely twisting the truth! I politely told her multiple times to leave us alone, and she refused to stop harassing us. All I did was ask for a seat change, and she flips the script and plays the victim!” Seeing the crowd rally behind her, Brittany cranked up the waterworks. She choked out her words through heavy sobs. “Thank you, everyone. Thank you for seeing the truth. I’m just trying to do my job, and she’s targeting me!” She then actually buckled her knees, pretending she was about to drop to the floor. “Ma’am, I’ll take the blame! I’m so sorry! Please, I’m begging you, don’t get me fired! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” A chorus of disgusted clicks and sighs echoed through the plane. “Flight attendants are human beings too. Look at how terrified the poor thing is.” “This lady is out of her mind. Does she think she owns the sky?” Helen’s polite mask vanished instantly. She yanked Brittany up, shielding the girl behind her own body, and stared at me with eyes like shards of ice. 3 “Ma’am, I suggest you watch your tone. Service workers are not beneath you.” “Professionally speaking, she is my subordinate, and checking on passengers is her literal job description. She did nothing wrong.” “Personally speaking, I am her aunt. I helped raise her. I know her character infinitely better than some bitter stranger.” She paused, making sure her voice carried to the back rows. “It is 2026. As a fellow woman, why are you tearing down another girl just to get a man’s attention? You’re a textbook pick-me. Maybe log off the internet and stop projecting your insecurities onto innocent women!” “A pick-me? Tearing down women?” I genuinely let out a dry, humorless laugh. The sheer absurdity of the situation had pushed me past the point of anger. I looked her dead in the eye. “You have a lot of nerve. You didn’t even bother to ask for my side of the story. You blindly took your niece’s word for it. Isn’t that the exact same thing you’re accusing me of?” “She’s an intern, so fine, I’ll write off her stupidity. But you are the Chief Flight Attendant. You are in charge of this cabin. Did you not read the pre-flight briefing regarding a high-risk VIP on board? Do you have any idea how much trouble you are in if you compromise my operation?” The whispers grew louder, tinged with heavy sarcasm. “Oh please, a VIP? Who does she think she is? If she was important, she’d be in first class.” “Empty cans rattle the loudest. Just listen to her.” “This is hilarious. It’s like she’s never been on a plane before. The secondhand embarrassment is killing me.” Hiding behind her aunt, Brittany flashed me a smug, victorious smirk, her eyes practically dancing with mockery. Helen faltered for a fraction of a second before her face hardened again. “Don’t you dare try to intimidate me with some fake VIP status. I have the manifest for every single person on this aircraft, including you! If you don’t want me calling your employer when we land, I suggest you sit down and shut your mouth. One more word, and I’m calling the Air Marshal.” We were locked in a stalemate. My fingertips brushed against the cold leather of my police badge inside my pocket. Right at that moment, another flight attendant rushed out from the back galley and grabbed Helen’s shoulder. She leaned in, whispering frantically. “Helen, I just double-checked the system. There is a high-level VIP on this flight! The company flagged it with absolute top priority. We cannot mess this up!” The smugness washed right off Helen and Brittany’s faces. The older woman hastily grabbed her company tablet, her fingers swiping frantically across the glowing screen. 4 Brittany leaned over her aunt’s shoulder, her eyes glued to the alert on the screen. Her initial panic faded. Within seconds, a nasty, triumphant grin spread across her lips. Helen locked the tablet and slowly looked back at me, radiating pure arrogance. She let out a sharp laugh. “You’re actually right. There is an incredibly important VIP on this flight. But guess what? It’s not you.” She stood a little taller. “We are hosting Dr. Arthur Harrison, the country’s top cardiovascular surgeon. He’s flying out for an emergency medical summit. Corporate gave us strict orders to ensure his absolute comfort and silence.” The entire cabin erupted into cruel laughter. “Oh man, she actually had me going for a second. Thought she was a senator or something.” “Did you hear the lady? Dr. Harrison needs quiet. What are you gonna do when you stress out a surgeon, huh?” Brittany, utterly drunk on her own perceived victory, rolled her eyes so hard I thought they might get stuck. She turned to Silas, her face softening into faux concern. “Sir, I honestly think the woman next to you is mentally unstable. For your own safety, why don’t I escort you up to first class? We can actually talk without the crazy lady screaming at us.” She reached out, attempting to grab his arm and pull him up. Panic surged through my veins. The last thread of my patience snapped. I didn’t care about being humiliated. But Silas was a lethal weapon. I could not let him leave my side for a single second. I yanked my badge out of my pocket and held it up high. “I am a police detective! I am in the middle of an active operation!” Before I could even blink, Brittany snatched the leather wallet right out of my hand. She didn’t even glance at it. She just ripped the internal ID card cleanly in half. “I could buy a whole box of these fake badges on Temu. If you’re a cop, then I’m the freaking President of the United States!” She puffed out her chest, acting like a superhero saving the day. “Do you realize what you’re doing? Handcuffing him to you is illegal imprisonment! I am saving this man!” With a sudden burst of manic energy, she grabbed the steel chain linking my wrist to Silas’s. She planted her feet and pulled upward with all her body weight. “Let him go! Let him go right now, you absolute psycho!” I lunged forward, desperately trying to pry her fingers off the metal. “Do not touch the cuffs! You are going to get everyone killed! He is a convicted murderer!” We wrestled violently in the cramped aisle. Snap. The metal link shattered. The sudden release of tension threw me completely off balance, sending me crashing hard into the armrest. I threw my head up. Silas’s wrist was completely free. Half of a broken, jagged handcuff dangled uselessly from my own arm. 5 A blur of motion tore past my vision. It was so fast my brain struggled to process it. By the time I scrambled upright, Silas was already standing directly behind Brittany. His massive hands clamped down around her throat. The sheer force was horrifying. Brittany’s face instantly turned a sickening shade of crimson. “Tell the pilot to turn this plane around! Now! Or I snap her neck like a twig!” Brittany’s eyes bugged out of her skull. Her tongue protruded slightly as she gasped for air that wouldn’t come. Her manicured nails clawed frantically at his thick forearms, tearing at his skin, but he didn’t even flinch. He was an unmoving wall of muscle. “I am not going to repeat myself! Turn the plane around or every single one of you dies up here!” Silas’s voice was devoid of any human emotion. The entire aircraft plunged into a terrifying, suffocating silence. The passengers who had been laughing and mocking me seconds ago were now paralyzed, their faces drained of color. A heartbeat later, absolute pandemonium broke out. Screams, sobs, and terrified prayers bounced off the curved ceiling. Passengers scrambled over each other, trying to press themselves as far back into their seats as possible. Helen, the Chief Flight Attendant, looked like she was going to vomit. She cowered behind the Air Marshal, her legs physically giving out beneath her. “Please! Don’t hurt us! We’ll give you whatever you want, just don’t do anything crazy!” Trapped in a suffocating grip, Brittany was drowning in pure terror. She choked out a pathetic, rasping whimper. “P-please… handsome… I’m sorry… cough… let me go…” Even as she was being strangled to death, she pathetically tried to rub her cheek against his arm, acting like her flirtation could save her. She was banking on a miracle. She severely underestimated the monster holding her. Silas didn’t care about her pretty face. His eyes darkened, and his grip tightened until a sickening, wet popping sound echoed from her throat. He leaned in close to her ear, his voice laced with venomous mockery. “I really should be thanking you, sweetheart. I never would have gotten these cuffs off without your help.” Brittany’s complexion shifted from crimson to a bruised purple. Her airways were completely crushed. Tears of agonizing regret spilled down her cheeks. She couldn’t even manage a whisper anymore. I ripped the broken cuff off my wrist and locked my eyes onto him. Every muscle in my body was coiled like a spring. “Silas, there is nowhere to run! Hijacking an aircraft is a federal offense. You let her go, put your hands up, and I swear I will ensure you make it to trial alive!” A decade of intense police training kept my heart rate steady. I couldn’t afford to panic. But Silas wasn’t a street thug. He was a trained, calculated apex predator. Good cops had died trying to put him behind bars. Taking him down inside a metal tube thirty thousand feet in the air, surrounded by civilian hostages, was a nightmare scenario. Silas shot me a sideways glance, letting out a dark chuckle. “I’m already sitting on death row, detective. What are they gonna do? Kill me twice?” “Besides, it’s just you up against me. You really think you can take me down?” His eyes darted around the chaotic cabin, calculating his next move, looking for a better insurance policy. Right at that exact second, Brittany, desperate to save her own skin, managed to wheeze out a single, damning sentence. “I… I know where the doctor is! Take him! He’s worth way more than me!”

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When my father pulled a faded photograph from his closet, I could hardly believe my eyes. The man in the tailored suit had gentle features, but his face looked exactly like mine. It all started with a bank statement I’d printed the day before. The teller slid the paper across the counter, and the numbers froze me: a monthly deposit of fifteen thousand dollars had been wired to an account for exactly eighteen years. The sender was a stranger named Richard Kensington. The first transfer was made the day I was born. I rushed home, threw the statement on the kitchen table, and demanded to know who Richard was. My father stared at the name in heavy silence before finally going to his room and retrieving that hidden photo. The real beginning was the night my mother died. While cleaning her room, I found an old, worn bankbook tucked deep under her mattress. My mother was a laid‑off garment worker living on a nine‑hundred‑dollar monthly pension. Yet the balance in that book was a staggering five hundred thousand. My dad sat in the corner, lighting a cigarette. His hands were steady. He simply said it was the money my mother had saved all her life, and I should keep it. But how could a woman earning nine hundred dollars a month save half a million? That impossible question finally had an answer the moment I saw the photograph. 1 I stared at the picture, my hands shaking uncontrollably. “Dad, what is this?” Arthur Bennett, the man I had called ‘Dad’ for eighteen years, leaned back in his chair. His eyes were rimmed with red. “You aren’t my biological daughter.” Those words felt like a dull, rusted knife. They didn’t slice quickly, but they dug incredibly deep. I opened my mouth, but my throat was completely sealed shut. He took a slow drag of his cigarette and kept going. “When your mother was young, she worked on the floor at the local textile mill. One day, a young executive came in to negotiate a contract. He was handsome, spoke well, and wore expensive clothes. Your mother was the most beautiful girl in that entire factory.” He paused, his Adam’s apple bobbing heavily. “Eventually, she got pregnant with you. That man, Richard Kensington, promised he was going to take her away and give her a proper life.” “And then?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “And then his wife found out.” Arthur’s voice suddenly flooded with raw, toxic hatred. “Her name was Victoria Hastings. She came from massive real estate money. She brought six or seven hired thugs, stormed right onto the factory floor, and dragged your mother by her hair across the raw concrete. Right in front of hundreds of people.” My fingernails bit so hard into my palms they almost broke the skin. “The beating wasn’t enough for her. Victoria forced the factory management to fire your mother on the spot, screaming that she was a homewrecker trying to ruin a wealthy family. The factory owners were terrified of the Hastings family. They kicked her to the curb the very next morning.” “Where was Richard?” I asked, my chest tight. Arthur let out a dry, bitter laugh. “He fell to his knees in front of his wife and swore on his life he would never see your mother again.” “He did it right in front of her.” I closed my eyes, feeling a physical ache in my ribs. “Your mother was thrown out onto the street, heavily pregnant. The entire town branded her a slut. Nobody would give her the time of day.” His voice cracked, turning raspy. “I was just a security guard at the front gate back then. Just a simple, quiet guy who knew he’d probably never find a wife. She needed a place to survive, and we just made it work.” I opened my eyes, staring at his worn, calloused hands. “So you knew all along?” “I knew.” “And the fifteen grand a month? You knew about that too?” “Yes. Richard started wiring that money the minute you took your first breath. Your mother refused to spend a single dime of it on herself. When you got sick as a kid, or when your tuition was due, that’s what paid for it. She hoarded every other penny.” “Half a million dollars,” I whispered, my throat burning. Arthur slowly shook his head. “It was way more than that.” “What do you mean?” “Eighteen years, Nora. Fifteen grand a month. Do the math.” Fifteen thousand times twelve, times eighteen. That was over three point two million dollars. But the bankbook under her mattress only held five hundred thousand. There was nearly two point seven million dollars missing. “Where is the rest of the money?” Arthur stood up with a heavy sigh and rummaged through the back of the closet again. He pulled out a thick, brown manila envelope. My mother’s handwriting was on the front. It was shaky and uneven, but I recognized every single stroke. It read. “For Nora. Open immediately.” I tore the flap open. A sleek, embossed business card fell out into my palm. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Senior Partner. On the back of the card, my mother had scribbled a message. “Nora, find him. He will tell you everything. I am so sorry for the life I gave you, but everything I did, I did to protect you.” I clutched the heavy cardstock, my mind spinning. My mother was a laid-off factory worker. She lived on a nine-hundred-dollar pension. How in the world did she know a senior partner at a corporate law firm? What exactly had she been doing behind our backs all these years? 2 I didn’t sleep a single wink that night. I sat on the floor of the tiny bedroom my mother had lived in for eighteen years, tearing through every possession she owned. Her closet held exactly four winter coats. Two of them were visibly patched. Her shoe rack held three pairs of shoes. Two worn-out canvas sneakers and one pair of cheap plastic sandals with the soles rubbed paper-thin. At the very bottom of her lowest dresser drawer, I found a massive stack of newspaper clippings. I pulled them out, examining them one by one under the dim desk lamp. Every single article was about Kensington Global. The oldest clipping was a tiny column from fifteen years ago. “Local Entrepreneur Richard Kensington Awarded State Business Excellence Ribbon.” In the middle of the stack was a half-page feature from seven years ago. “Kensington Global Expands into Healthcare Sector, Investing in Major Metropolitan Hospitals.” The most recent was a full-page glossy spread from two years ago. “Kensington Global Market Cap Breaks Billion-Dollar Mark. The Expanding Empire of Richard Kensington.” My mother had taken a red pen and highlighted critical sections in every single article. The margins were filled with her scribbled notes. I leaned in close to read the shaky handwriting. “2016. Real estate expansion too aggressive. Debt-to-equity ratio critical.” “2019. Brought in strategic investors. How much were his voting rights diluted? Check the annual corporate filings.” “2022. Tristan Kensington joins executive board. Three major development projects operate at a massive loss. Capital flow unaccounted for.” My fingertips traced the faded ink, a sudden chill raising the hairs on my arms. My mother. A woman who didn’t even finish high school. She had been actively analyzing the financial structure and corporate debt of a billion-dollar conglomerate. I grabbed my phone and typed “Richard Kensington” into the search bar. The screen instantly exploded with results. Richard Kensington, 52. Chairman and CEO of Kensington Global. Dominant in real estate, finance, and private healthcare. Estimated personal net worth. Nine hundred million dollars. Nine hundred million. I pulled up my own banking app. Available balance. One hundred and twelve dollars. That was everything I had saved from pulling double shifts at a local coffee shop all summer. I kept scrolling down the search results. A high-definition family portrait loaded on the screen. Richard was standing tall, his arm wrapped around an incredibly glamorous woman. Victoria. Her skin looked flawless, and massive emerald teardrops hung from her ears. Her smile was perfectly practiced, straight off the cover of a luxury magazine. Standing next to them was a young man in his mid-twenties. He was tall, lean, and carried a sharp, arrogant smirk that screamed generational wealth. Tristan Kensington, 26. Executive Vice President of Kensington Global. Columbia MBA graduate. Twenty-six years old. Vice President. Ivy League pedigree. Mansions and supercars. I was eighteen, slinging lattes for twelve bucks an hour. I zoomed in on the watch wrapped around Tristan’s wrist. It was a Patek Philippe Nautilus. Market value was easily a quarter of a million dollars. A quarter of a million. My mother hadn’t even owned a cheap gold chain her entire life. I locked my phone and tossed it onto the bed. I picked up the business card again. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Financial District, 38th Floor. “Mom,” I whispered into the empty, quiet room. “What kind of game were you playing?” Early the next morning, I put on the nicest piece of clothing I owned. A white button-down shirt my mother had bought me on sale for fifteen bucks. Right as I reached for the front doorknob, Arthur called my name. “Nora.” “Yeah.” “Before your mother passed, she made me promise to tell you something.” I froze, my hand hovering over the brass knob. “She said, ‘Arthur, if Nora decides to go look for that man, do not stop her. But you make sure you tell her one thing. Do not beg him. Do not get on your knees. And do not ever let him look down on you.’” A sharp burn stung the back of my nose. I didn’t turn around. “I hear you.” 3 It took an hour and a half on the city bus to cross into the financial district. The Kensington Global headquarters towered at the end of the block. Forty-six stories of sleek, reflective glass. The morning sun hit the facade, making the building look like a golden blade piercing the sky. The revolving doors were spotless. The lobby was paved in imported marble. When I walked in, my worn canvas sneakers let out a pathetic, squeaking sound against the polished floor. The receptionist at the front desk looked up. Her eyes slowly dragged from the top of my head down to my cheap shoes. I will never forget that look as long as I live. She looked at me like I was a cockroach that had crawled through the front door. “Can I help you? Do you have an appointment?” “I need to see Richard Kensington.” The corner of her mouth twitched. It wasn’t a smile. It was the kind of exhausted smirk you give a crazy person. “Mr. Kensington does not accept walk-ins. What company are you representing?” “I’m his daughter.” The smirk froze on her face for exactly one second. Then her hand dropped to the intercom button on her desk. “Security. We have a girl in the lobby claiming to be the CEO’s daughter. Please remove her.” Two massive security guards appeared out of nowhere. They grabbed me by the arms, lifting my feet entirely off the floor, and dragged me toward the exit. “I am actually his daughter! Just let him see my face!” “We get three of you nutjobs a month,” one of the guards sneered, rolling his eyes. “Last one claimed she was his long-lost twin sister.” “Go home, kid. You don’t belong in a place like this.” They violently shoved me through the revolving doors. My foot caught the edge of the metal frame, and I crashed hard onto the concrete steps outside. The skin on my knee tore open. Hot blood immediately pooled and began trickling down my shin. But the physical pain was absolutely nothing compared to the suffocating humiliation burning in my chest. Right at that exact moment. A matte black Porsche Cayenne pulled up to the curb. The heavy door swung open, and a pair of Italian leather loafers stepped onto the pavement. It was Tristan Kensington. He looked even taller than in the photos. His posture was rigid, and his eyes were completely devoid of warmth. He was flanked by an assistant, a secretary, and a driver. He had a bigger entourage than a movie star. He glanced down at me bleeding on the ground, then turned his head toward the guards. “What is this?” “Mr. Kensington, just a crazy girl causing a scene. Claimed to be the Chairman’s daughter. We handled it.” Tristan let his heavy eyelids droop, looking down his nose at me. His lips curled into a cruel, mocking sneer. “Another gold digger looking for a payout?” He casually reached into his tailored jacket, pulled out a sleek money clip, and slid out a crisp hundred-dollar bill. He leaned over and dropped it on the concrete right in front of my face. “Buy some bandages. And don’t ever come back.” He stood up straight, casually adjusting his expensive cuffs, and looked at his secretary. “Make sure the front desk registers her face. If she shows up again, call the cops and have her arrested for trespassing.” The rhythmic clicking of his leather shoes echoed off the concrete as he walked away, never once looking back. I stayed on my knees. The wind blew past, lifting the edge of the hundred-dollar bill and flipping it onto the back of my hand. I stared at that piece of paper for a very long time. Then I stood up. The blood from my knee dripped steadily down my leg. One drop. Two drops. Staining my white canvas shoes. I didn’t run away. I walked down the street with my spine completely straight, step by deliberate step. I found a public restroom a block away, washed the blood off my leg, and slapped two cheap bandages over the wound. I dug into my pocket and pulled out the business card. Thomas Wright. Wright and Associates. Financial District, 38th Floor. I checked the building directory. It was a three-minute walk from the Kensington Global headquarters. Mom, did you seriously pick a law firm right next door to his empire? I pushed through the heavy glass doors of the firm. The receptionist looked up at me. Her expression was completely different from the one at the Kensington building. There was no disgust. No superiority. “How can I help you? Are you looking for someone?” “Thomas Wright.” “And your name?” “Nora. Nora Bennett.” She froze. She immediately snatched up the phone on her desk. “Mr. Wright. There is a Ms. Bennett here to see you. Yes. Nora Bennett. Right away.” When she hung up the phone, her entire demeanor shifted into absolute, terrifying respect. “Ms. Bennett. Mr. Wright is in the corner office at the end of the hall. He said to tell you…” She swallowed hard. “He said he has been waiting for you for a very long time.” 4 Thomas Wright’s office was massive. The walls were lined with floor-to-ceiling mahogany bookshelves stacked with heavy legal texts. He stood up immediately when I walked in. He was in his late fifties, with silver hair and wire-rimmed glasses. The moment his eyes locked onto my face, they turned glassy with unshed tears. “You look… exactly like your mother.” I didn’t have the energy for small talk. “Mr. Wright, my mom told me to find you. She said you would tell me everything.” He nodded slowly. He walked over to a heavy steel safe bolted into the wall and punched in a code. He pulled out a thick, black archival box. Inside was a mountain of legal documents. He pulled the top file and laid it on his desk. It was an irrevocable trust agreement. Grantor. Margaret Bennett. Beneficiary. Nora Bennett. Establishment Date. March 15th, 2012. The signature at the bottom was my mother’s. It was meticulous and precise, vastly different from the shaky writing on the envelope. It looked like she had practiced that signature a thousand times. “Your mother walked into this office fifteen years ago,” Thomas said, his voice slow and heavy. “She was wearing a faded, cheap winter coat, clutching a plastic grocery bag. That bag was filled with cash. Exactly sixty thousand dollars.” “She sat exactly where you are sitting and said, ‘Mr. Wright, I need you to open a brokerage account for me. I want to buy stock.’” “I asked her what company she wanted to invest in.” “She looked me dead in the eye and said, ‘Kensington Global.’” My fingertips went completely numb. “I was stunned. A woman wearing threadbare clothes, clutching a grocery bag of cash, wanting to dump her life savings into a company I assumed she knew nothing about?” “But then she pulled out a spiral notebook.” “It was filled with three years of Kensington Global’s financial data. Revenue streams, profit margins, debt ratios, executive board shifts, and horizontal industry analysis. It was more thoroughly researched than reports I get from Wall Street analysts.” “She looked at me and said something I will never forget.” Thomas took off his glasses and wiped them with a silk cloth. “She said, ‘Mr. Wright, I don’t know the first thing about the law. But I know one truth. I cannot leave my daughter’s fate in someone else’s hands.’” A hot tear spilled over my lashes and hit the polished mahogany desk. “For the next fifteen years,” Thomas said, opening a thick portfolio, “your mother took the vast majority of the allowance she received and pumped it straight into Kensington stock. In the early days, when the stock was cheap and the market cap was small, she bought huge blocks of it. When they went public and the price skyrocketed, she bought smaller fractions. But she never stopped.” He slid the final page of the report across the desk. Total Ownership Stake. 8.3%. Current Market Value. Twenty-Four Million Dollars. A blinding white flash exploded behind my eyes. My mother. Living on a nine-hundred-dollar pension. Wearing patched coats. Walking in shoes worn down to the pavement. A woman who never even bought herself a birthday cake. Over fifteen brutal years, operating entirely in the shadows where nobody bothered to look, she had systematically bought up eight percent of a billion-dollar empire. Tristan Kensington had thrown a hundred-dollar bill at me and told me to get lost. I currently held more voting shares in his company than he did. “There is one more thing.” Thomas reached into the very bottom of the black box and pulled out a heavy manila envelope. There was no writing on it. The flap was sealed with thick, red wax. “Your mother gave me strict instructions. This envelope was only to be opened after her death.” I broke the wax seal. I pulled out a few sheets of loose-leaf paper. It was handwritten. The writing was jagged and erratic. In several places, the blue ink had bled, warped by tears that had fallen onto the page. The title was written in bold letters. “My Death Record.” I read the first line. “Nora, if you are reading this, it means I failed to swap out my medication in time.” Every drop of blood in my body turned to ice. “Mr. Wright.” “How exactly did my mother die?”

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It had been three years since I ended things with Noah Slavin, three years since I’d left this city behind. Now, I was back. Everyone was whispering, speculating that I’d returned because I couldn’t stand being away from him any longer, that I was here to beg him to take me back. Noah himself seemed to think so, too. His buddies were already sucking up to him, their voices dripping with envy. “Damn, Noah, you’ve got some serious game. After all this time, the great Sienna Windsor is still wrapped around your finger.” Another one chimed in, “Who can compete with our man Noah? She stormed out of here like she was never coming back, and now look at her, crawling back like a lost puppy, ready to beg.” A mocking smile touched Noah’s lips as he listened. He let out a soft, arrogant laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous. Even if she did come back begging, it all depends on whether I’m still interested.” But none of them knew the truth. I wasn’t the same girl I was three years ago. Six months ago, I got engaged to Grayson Holt. I was back to plan my own wedding. 01 My friends were all there to meet me at the airport. My best friend, Bella, threw her arms around my waist. “Sienna, you jerk! You’re finally back. I missed you like crazy.” Familiar faces surrounded me, warm and welcoming. But I never expected Noah to be there. Three years hadn’t changed him much. He still had those roguish, charming eyes, a lazy swagger, and that same untamable arrogance. “I told you not to wear stuff that’s so tight,” he said, his voice a low drawl. “Don’t come crying to me when people make fun of your body again. I’m just looking out for you.” Right. Still the same silver-tongued devil. I used to be so insecure about my large chest. A comment like that would have made me hunch my shoulders, instinctively looking down to see if something was out of place. But I was long past the age of letting someone else’s words define me. Besides, I was wearing a high-necked, knee-length dress. If anyone had a problem with it, that was a reflection of their own dirty mind, not my fault. So, I just gave him a cool, detached glance and a polite, distant smile, saying nothing. Bella, however, shot him a glare. “What do you know? Sienna has the kind of killer body other girls would die for. All the curves are in the right places.” Noah seemed to notice the change in me. His expression faltered for a second, his eyes fixed on me. To celebrate my return, my friends booked a private room at a bar. When it was time to sit, I deliberately chose a seat as far away from Noah as possible. The man’s sharp brows twitched, but he stayed silent, merely shrugging off the other girls who tried to slide in next to him. At one point, a couple of girls from the next room came over, using a game of “truth or dare” as an excuse to ask for Noah’s number. He turned them all down politely. That surprised me. The Noah I remembered was never one to refuse a pretty face, as long as she was decent-looking. Just then, a friend leaned in and whispered to me. “Noah’s changed a lot since you left. He barely talks to girls anymore. You hardly ever see him with another woman.” 02 I had no idea what he was trying to achieve by telling me that. Was I supposed to be touched? A little late for that, wasn’t it? This worthless, self-serving gesture? He was only trying to make himself feel better. Uninterested, I got up and headed to the restroom. On my way back, I saw Noah and a few of his friends smoking on the balcony just off the hallway. Their voices drifted over to me. “Seriously, Noah, you’re the man. All these years, and Sienna Windsor still can’t get over you.” “Yeah, teach us your secrets, bro. I wanna know what it’s like to have a rich heiress completely hung up on me.” “Who can compare to Noah? Remember how final she was when she left? And now she’s back, tail between her legs, ready to play nice.” A smirk played on Noah’s lips. He chuckled. “You guys are talking nonsense. Even if she begged me to take her back, it’s not a given I’d say yes.” A round of laughter followed. Then, one of them spoke up, a little more thoughtfully. “I don’t know, man. Sienna seems… different this time. She’s barely even looked at you.” Noah flicked the ash from his cigarette, the ember glowing faintly. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, completely unconcerned. “Different how? She’s just throwing a tantrum. It’s not the first time.” So that’s what they thought. That I’d come back to beg Noah for a second chance. A three-year-long tantrum. What a creative way to see it. I was afraid they were in for a major disappointment. Because six months ago, I had gotten engaged to Grayson Holt, the man at the helm of the Holt Corporation. I was back to get married. Still, I couldn’t entirely blame them. The old me really had been head-over-heels for Noah. 03 Noah and I were childhood sweethearts. It all started when he told me, “Stick with me, and I’ll have your back.” And so, I trailed after him for over a decade. After high school graduation, he said, “Sienna, I know you like me. Let’s give this a shot.” And just like that, we were a couple. I used to think I was special to him. He was the one who, when other guys would catcall me or make crude jokes about my figure, would complain about me being too flashy, then corner those jerks in an alley and beat the crap out of them. He was the one who, when I got injured during a track meet, set aside his germaphobia to have someone carry me to the nurse’s office on a stretcher. He’d grumble about me being a pain while carefully tending to my wounds. I always told myself that Noah just wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. That if I just loved him enough, one day, he would show me his gentle side. That fantasy shattered the day Lily, a transfer student on a scholarship, showed up. That’s when I learned that Noah’s kindness didn’t have to come packaged with insults and belittlement. That he could be genuinely warm and considerate. At first, Noah just said he felt sorry for Lily. She was all alone, struggling to pay tuition with student loans, and he just wanted to help her out. I believed him. I even went out of my way to buy Lily clothes and toiletries. I forgot that so many relationships begin with pity. But the moment that truly killed every last bit of hope was the campus “Prom Queen” election. 04 At our university, the elected Prom King and Queen got to share the first dance at the Freshman Ball. Noah was, without a doubt, voted Prom King. I, on the other hand, worked my ass off to become Prom Queen. I campaigned relentlessly, stayed up all night helping classmates with their group projects, and spent my entire monthly allowance buying them lunches and gifts. But when the final vote came down to a tie between me and Lily, Noah cast the deciding vote. For her. In that instant, my world went silent. The cheers, the whispers, the laughter around me all faded into a dull roar. All I could see was Noah on the stage and Lily in the crowd, sharing a triumphant smile. A bitter, acidic feeling churned in my stomach. For the first time, I wondered if Noah had ever liked me at all. He tried to smooth things over afterward, a rare attempt at placating me. He explained that the Prom King and Queen got a paid gig to shoot promotional posters for the university. I didn’t need the money, but Lily, with her difficult family situation, desperately did. He asked me not to fight her for it. But that night, outside the pool hall, I overheard the real reason from him and his friends. “Nice one, Noah. Getting Lily crowned was all your doing, wasn’t it? Sacrificing your own girlfriend for the cause. Cold-blooded, man.” Noah just laughed, not denying it. “A Prom Queen should be… you know, the pure type. Sienna’s not exactly the right fit.” “True,” another one added. “If Sienna wore the gown, all the freshmen would probably get nosebleeds just looking at her.” The whole group erupted in laughter, Noah included. The same boy who used to get into fights because someone made fun of me had become one of them, laughing right along. “But isn’t Sienna your girlfriend? We thought you were into her type.” Noah’s demeanor shifted, as if they’d hit a nerve. “No way,” he denied instantly. “If my parents hadn’t pushed me to be nice to her, I wouldn’t have given her a second look. A girl who’s that clingy? It’s such a turn-off.” The others glanced toward the entrance of the pool hall, their knowing smirks saying it all. One of his friends did push back a little. “I don’t know, I think Sienna’s great. If I were voting, I’d pick her. She’s a total bombshell. Hottest girl in school, built like a goddess.” The conversation grew cruder, and Noah’s face finally hardened. “That’s enough,” he snapped, his eyes landing on Lily, who was sitting nearby, blushing furiously. “There’s a lady present. Watch your mouths.” 05 I don’t remember how I got home. It felt like the world had been ripped out from under me. My heart was a block of ice, the cold so sharp it was agonizing. A lump of years’ worth of hurt lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t even find the courage to storm in there and confront him. It was hard to even breathe. If Noah’s love had been like sugarcane—too fibrous to swallow but too sweet to spit out—now, even that last hint of sweetness was gone. I didn’t sleep a wink. The next day, I dragged my exhausted body to class, only to see Lily showing off the dress Noah had bought her for the ball. “Wow, Lily, that dress is gorgeous!” someone gushed. Lily shot a triumphant look in my direction, but her tone was feignedly helpless. “I told Noah he shouldn’t have, but he just wouldn’t listen. He said that as his dance partner, I’d be by his side all night, representing him.” I was already past the point of caring, but Lily made a point to walk over to me. “Sienna, what do you think? Does this dress suit me?” She held it up against herself, giving a little, not-so-accidental twirl. I ignored her. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Sienna, I’ve always wanted to ask… are they real?” She gestured toward my chest. “I mean, a lot of rich girls get implants to… you know, hook the guy they want.” “What did you just say?” I shot up from my chair and shoved her, hard. Lily stumbled backward, crashing into a desk. A cup of water tipped over, soaking the front of her shirt. “Sienna, what the hell are you doing?” Noah’s furious voice boomed from the doorway. He rushed to Lily’s side, pulling her into his arms and glaring at me with eyes as cold as ice. I told him what Lily had said, what she had insinuated. “So what? It’s a normal question,” Noah cut me off, his voice laced with impatience. “The way you look, anyone would wonder. You don’t have to be so sensitive about it.” With that, he draped his own jacket over Lily’s shoulders and carried her out of the room, presumably to the nurse’s office. Watching his arms wrapped so tightly around her, my eyes filled with tears. So, his germaphobia was selective. The one thing I had always longed for was something she could have so effortlessly. A broken laugh escaped my lips. Tears finally streamed down my face. I had been such a fool for so many years. His words were the final bucket of ice water, extinguishing the last flicker of hope in my heart. I broke up with Noah. I called my mom and told her I wanted to study abroad. The withdrawal papers were processed in two days. On the third day, I was on a flight to New York. Other than the generic holiday greetings he mass-texted every year, we had no contact. 06 “Hey, did you guys hear? I think Grayson Holt, the head of the Holt Corporation, is getting married.” Someone in our private room suddenly dropped the gossip bomb. “For real? That’s like seeing a pig fly. That guy is a total workaholic. He’s 32, and his parents have been on his case for years, but he never budged. They were starting to lose hope.” “I wonder who the lucky girl is. She must be something special to land him. I heard she’s young, still in college in New York.” “Sienna, you were in New York. Do you know who it is?” Bella nudged my arm. I managed a small smile, taking a sip of my drink to hide my unease. “No idea. I was totally focused on my studies. I didn’t really follow that stuff.” My thumb traced the rim of my glass, a nervous habit whenever I lied. Bella nodded, buying it completely. Only Noah noticed my small gesture. He gave me a long, searching look. When the party ended, we all started heading out. Suddenly, a jacket was draped over my shoulders. Noah was standing beside me. “I’ll take you home. If my parents find out I let you go home alone after drinking, they’ll kill me.” His tone was so familiar, so intimate. As if I’d been gone for three days, not three years. The old me would have been floating on a cloud of pink bubbles. But now, I just stepped back and handed the jacket back to him. “That’s okay. My boyfriend is coming to pick me up.” The word “fiancé” felt too intimate, too much to say out loud just yet. Noah’s smile froze on his face. Everyone else turned to stare, their expressions a mix of shock and confusion. The guys who’d been talking smack on the balcony looked particularly flustered, their eyes darting between me and Noah. “You brat! You kept something this big from me?” Bella slung an arm around my neck, feigning offense. I laughed, apologizing. “I’ll tell you everything later, I promise.” One by one, everyone else left. I stood by the curb, waiting for Grayson, with a scowling Noah lingering behind me. After about ten minutes, the scowl on his face slowly melted into a smug grin. “Sienna, you don’t have to resort to childish games just because you don’t have a boyfriend. I know I was harsh before. If you’re still mad, I can…” Before he could finish, a black Bentley pulled up silently in front of us. 07 Arthur, the driver, got out. “Miss Windsor, Mr. Holt’s flight was delayed. He asked me to come and get you.” I nodded and slid into the back seat, not sparing Noah a final glance. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a message from him. Don’t tell me that old guy you hired is your ‘boyfriend.’ I get that you’re trying to make me jealous, but don’t lie like that again. It actually pisses me off. My brow furrowed in disgust. I blocked his number. I hadn’t bothered before because it seemed pointless. But now that he was actively nauseating me, there was no reason to put up with it. Sensing my discomfort, Arthur spoke from the driver’s seat. “Miss Windsor, there’s some soup for you. Mr. Holt anticipated you might be drinking tonight and had us prepare it.” He continued, “Also, Mr. Holt knows you prefer not to stay at your family’s home. He’s had the villa at Crescent Bay prepared for you. We’ve already replaced the bedding and toiletries with your preferred brands. If there’s anything else you need, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” I nodded, picking up the thermos beside me and taking a sip. A warm, comforting feeling spread through my stomach. My mom had told me during the matchmaking process that older men were better because they knew how to take care of you. Turns out, she was right. It was nice. I didn’t have to worry about a thing; he had already arranged everything. After a shower, I sank into the plush bed, surrounded by the calming scent of my favorite aromatherapy diffuser, and fell asleep almost instantly. The next morning, I walked out of my room to find Grayson, just returned from his trip. He stood there in a black overcoat, tall and imposing. The moment his eyes met mine, a wave of raw, masculine energy washed over me. “You’re staying here too?” I asked, my brain still foggy with sleep. I’d completely forgotten this was his house. He raised an eyebrow. “Should I leave?” “No, that’s not what I meant!” I backpedaled quickly. “I just meant… there are a lot of rooms here. If you wanted to stay… it wouldn’t be a problem.” A hint of a smile touched his eyes. He handed his coat to the butler and strode toward me. Before I could say another word, he cupped my face in his hands, leaned down, and kissed me.

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1 The moment I stepped through the front door, the house was already buzzing. My older sister was practically vibrating with excitement, ready to parade her wealthy fiancé in front of our parents. In the living room, my future brother-in-law was enthusiastically handing over expensive gift baskets to my mom and dad. When it was my turn, he shoved a pair of cheap rubber gloves into my hands. “For your cleaning lady to use. Just a little something,” he said with a charming smile. Before I could even process what was happening, my sister jumped in and thanked him profusely. Mom suddenly grabbed my arm, her nails digging into my skin, and dragged me into the kitchen. She lowered her voice to a frantic whisper. “Carter comes from old money. He’s an only child. We told his family that Stella is our only daughter too.” She shoved a greasy dish towel against my chest. “Tonight, you are the housekeeper. Start prepping dinner right now. We have a VIP guest, and the food better be perfect.” I looked down at the dish towel in my hands and actually let out a laugh. This was literally my house. I bought it. But suddenly, it was the “housekeeper’s” quarters. From the living room, Carter’s arrogant voice drifted in. He was definitely kicking his feet up. “Your maid doesn’t really seem to know her place. You guys need to train her better.” I stood in the doorway of my own kitchen, listening to this absolute circus. Suddenly, the people sitting in that living room felt like total strangers. I dropped the towel on the counter and looked at my mother with pure amusement. “Mom, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Her face dropped the second the words left my mouth. “Start cooking right now, do you hear me? If you don’t cook, how are we supposed to explain a maid who doesn’t do her job? The whole lie will fall apart!” I just stared at her, dead silent. Mom took a deep breath. Her tone shifted from a harsh command to a pathetic, soft plea. “Riley, please. I promise I’ll find a way to explain everything to him later. I swear.” She patted my arm, her eyes darting nervously toward the living room. “But right now, the most important thing is helping your sister keep this story together. Just swallow your pride for one night, okay? Be a good girl.” Without waiting for my answer, she turned on her heel and scurried back out to entertain Carter. I stood alone in a kitchen piled high with raw vegetables and frozen meat. I calmly pulled out my phone, opened a delivery app, and found the most expensive upscale steakhouse nearby. I ordered a massive premium catering package. Ribeyes, lobsters, the works. Payment method: Cash on delivery. Name on the order: Arthur, my dad. If they were going to erase my existence, I definitely wasn’t going to be their unpaid private chef. After placing the order, I walked straight to my bedroom and shut the door. Through the thin walls, I could still hear Carter complaining about the “maid’s terrible attitude.” An hour later, the doorbell rang. Dad opened the door and just stood there, staring at the mountain of food. “I didn’t order any of this.” The delivery guy held up the receipt. “The name on the slip is Arthur. The address matches. Please just check the bill, sir.” “Why would I order four hundred dollars worth of takeout?” Dad sputtered. “We have a maid to cook for us!” Carter’s voice chimed in from the couch. “I bet your lazy maid ordered it. She refused to cook, hid in her room, and now she’s ordering takeout on your dime.” Footsteps stomped down the hall, and my bedroom door flew open. Dad stood in the doorway, his face purple with rage. “Riley, get out here right now! Did you order four hundred dollars worth of food?” I sat up on my bed. “Yep. Sure did.” Dad panicked, realizing I wasn’t even going to deny it. “There is a fridge full of groceries in there! What is wrong with you?” Carter strolled up behind him, leaning against the doorframe. “See? What did I tell you? I’ve never seen such a lazy, entitled housekeeper in my life. You guys really hired a nightmare.” Stella finally spoke up, crossing her arms. “Riley, we pay you a great salary and treat you like family. Have you gotten so comfortable that you think you own the place?” She glared at me, her eyes flashing with a warning. “Fine. Since you didn’t cook, you can pay the four hundred bucks yourself.” She turned to Dad, laying the guilt trip on thick. “Dad, see? This is what happens when you and Mom are too nice to the help. You give them an inch, and they walk all over you.” Carter nodded in total agreement. “My family employs staff too. If I were you, I’d fire her tonight. Young girls working as maids… honestly, they’re mostly just lazy freeloaders.” Stella stepped closer. “Riley, Venmo me the four hundred dollars right now, and I’ll go pay the delivery guy. Otherwise, I’m having my parents fire you on the spot.” I looked right past her, locking eyes with Mom, who had just promised to “explain everything.” “Are you going to say something?” I asked her. “Or are you just waiting for me to pull out my wallet like she is?” 2 Carter looked completely baffled by my question. “Wait, why does your maid talk to you like that? And why is she calling you sister?” Stella’s face went pale. She quickly grabbed Carter’s arm and pressed herself against him. “Oh, babe, she’s just been with us for so long. We treat her like family, so sometimes she forgets her boundaries and gets a little overly familiar.” Mom forced out a nervous, awkward laugh. “Yes, exactly! This… this poor girl is the daughter of a very distant relative from the countryside. We took her in to help her out. She just calls Stella her sister out of habit.” Mom looked at Carter with wide, innocent eyes. “Don’t you worry, Carter. Stella is our one and only child.” I stared at Mom, letting her words sink in. My sister wasn’t always the “one and only.” Her name used to be Sarah. But five years ago, she threw a massive tantrum, screaming that my existence ruined her dream of being a pampered only child. To shut her up, my parents literally let her legally change her name to Stella, treating her like she was the center of the universe. Carter raised an eyebrow, his gaze sweeping back and forth between me and Stella. “A distant relative. Right. That makes sense.” He smirked. “I was actually thinking she looked a little bit like you, babe.” Dad rubbed his hands together, sweating slightly. “Yeah, well, Riley doesn’t have much of an education. She couldn’t find a real job out there, so we figured we’d throw her a bone. Room and board in exchange for some light chores. Better than letting her rot on the streets.” Carter nodded slowly, totally buying the lie. “Ah, I get it now. No wonder she has such a nasty attitude. She thinks because she’s blood, she doesn’t actually have to work. That explains a lot.” He turned to my parents, looking incredibly smug. “But a maid is a maid, and family is family. You have to draw a hard line. You’ve definitely spoiled her.” Stella’s face was flushed with embarrassment. she pointed a shaking finger at me. “Riley, I don’t have time for your games! Pay the delivery guy right now!” I ignored her completely and kept my eyes on Mom. “Mom. Are you going to tell him the truth or not?” Carter froze. “What did she just call you?” All the blood drained from Mom’s face. Stella lost her mind. “Riley, that is enough! Who the hell are you calling Mom? Are you psychotic? That is my mother!” Mom looked at me, then at Stella, and finally let out a heavy sigh, playing the victim perfectly. “I’m sorry, Carter. This girl has always been a little mentally unstable. Ever since she came to live with us, she’s been obsessed with calling me Mom. I never agreed to it, but she just won’t stop. It’s been years, and we just can’t fix her delusions.” Carter let out a long “Ohhh,” shaking his head with a condescending laugh. “Wow. I have never met someone with such thick skin.” He took a step toward me, looking down his nose. “Listen, little girl. If you just put your head down, did your job, and showed some respect, your aunt and uncle here would take good care of you. But with this lazy, greedy attitude? Nobody in the real world is going to want you. Got it?” Right at that moment, the delivery guy yelled from the front door. “Hello? Is anyone going to pay for this? I have other deliveries to make!” Dad grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight. “You ordered the food, you pay for it. Cut the crap.” He yanked me toward the door, positioning his body so Carter couldn’t see his face, and glared at me with absolute venom. “Riley, I’m warning you. I don’t have your mother’s patience. If you don’t pay this bill right now, I am going to make your life a living hell the second he leaves.” I opened my mouth to fire back, but Mom suddenly stepped in and peeled Dad’s fingers off my arm. She let out a dramatic sigh. “Alright, alright, stop fighting. This is embarrassing.” She pulled out her phone, scanned the delivery guy’s card reader, and paid the four hundred dollars herself. She put her phone away, turned to me, and looked at me with a face full of sheer exhaustion. “Riley, when are you going to grow up?” She leaned in close, her voice breaking. “Riley, I am begging you. Just for the length of this dinner. Can you please just help your sister? Just swallow it down this one last time.” Her eyes were entirely filled with desperation, pleading with me to let them humiliate me just a little bit longer. I swallowed the bitter lump in my throat. Seeing Mom pay the bill, Stella crossed her arms, looking deeply annoyed. Carter puffed out his chest, stepping up like the man of the house. “Stella, since your parents are too soft to put her in her place, let me handle it. I’ll teach her some manners.” 3 Carter confidently walked over to the head of the dining table and took a seat. “Come here, maid. Serve the food.” I almost laughed out loud at the sheer audacity. But Mom was standing right next to me. She reached out and gave my sleeve a gentle, desperate tug. I looked back at her. Her eyes were begging me. I remembered the tremor in her voice when she said, Just swallow it down this one last time. I let out a slow breath. Fine. This would be the absolute last time I ever let my heart soften for these people. I walked over to the dining table, opened the expensive takeout boxes one by one, laid out the silverware, and arranged the plates perfectly. Carter leaned back in his chair, totally satisfied. “See? That’s more like it. A maid needs to act like a maid. Stop walking around with a sour face like everyone owes you money.” Stella sat down next to him, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile. “Don’t let her get to you, babe. She’s just an uneducated hick who doesn’t know any better.” I completely tuned them out. Once the last plate was set, I turned on my heel to go back to my room. I obviously wasn’t going to eat with them. Nobody had invited me anyway. But the second I turned around, Stella’s voice snapped like a whip. “Maid! Where do you think you’re going? Come back here and peel my shrimp.” She leaned back in her chair, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at the platter of garlic butter shrimp. She lifted her chin. “What are you staring at? Peel the shells. My fiancé loves seafood.” Carter sat there, watching me with a smug, highly entertained look on his face. “Oh, and while you’re at it, carve the meat off that prime rib. Keep it in nice, whole slices. Don’t hack it up.” Listening to them confidently bark orders at me in my own dining room, a cold laugh escaped my throat. “Do you want me to chew it for you too? That way you won’t even have to use your jaws. Think of the calories you’ll save.” The entire house fell dead silent. A second later, Stella slammed her hand on the table. Her face turned beet red. “Riley! What the hell is your problem? We ask you to do your basic job and you give us this sarcastic attitude? Are you purposely trying to ruin my night?” I looked at her, my voice eerily calm. “I served the food out of respect for Mom. That does not mean you get to treat me like a dog.” “You could have just let me go to my room so you two could enjoy your dinner. But you just had to call me back here to flex. So tell me, Stella, who is actually trying to ruin whose night?” Stella shot up from her chair. “Who gave you the right to use my first name? A maid thinking she’s on my level? You are out of your mind!” I stared at her face. We looked incredibly similar. The resemblance was undeniable, and the whole situation suddenly felt hilarious to me. “Stella, are you done acting? You are my biological sister. Did you seriously brainwash yourself into believing I’m actually your maid and you’re my boss?” Carter’s smug smile vanished. He frowned deeply. “What? Biological sister? What is she talking about?” He looked at Stella, his voice dropping an octave. “Stella, what did she just say? She’s your sister?” Before Stella could even stutter out a lie, Carter turned his sharp gaze onto my parents. “Arthur. Martha. What is going on here? You explicitly told my family that Stella was an only child. Where did a biological sister come from?” When my parents just stood there stammering, Carter raised his voice. “What is the truth? Has this entire family been lying to me since day one?” He slammed his napkin down. “Because if you have, this wedding is off!” I didn’t even have a chance to react. Suddenly, Mom lunged at me. She closed the distance in a second and swung her arm. Whack. The slap echoed through the room. I was completely blindsided. My ear rang violently. Mom pointed a shaking finger right at my nose, screaming at the top of her lungs. “What kind of insane garbage are you spewing?! Who is your sister?! If you say one more crazy word, I will throw you out on the street!” The skin on my cheek burned like fire. “Insane garbage?” I asked quietly. I reached up and touched my stinging face. “Fine. You want to prove I’m crazy? Go get the official Family Trust documents. Bring out the legal paperwork and show your precious future son-in-law exactly how many daughters you have.” I locked eyes with Carter. “You want the truth? Make them pull out the legal records. See for yourself.” Carter’s face was made of stone. “She’s right. Go get the documents. I want to see if I’m marrying into a family of pathological liars.” 4 Stella panicked. She grabbed Carter’s arm, her nails digging into his shirt. “Babe, please, don’t listen to her, she’s literally having a psychotic break, she’s—” Carter ripped his arm away. “Bring me the papers!” Dad stood up slowly. I honestly thought he would hesitate. I thought he would make up an excuse about losing the paperwork. But he didn’t. Without a single word, Dad turned around and marched into the master bedroom. Less than a minute later, he walked back out holding a heavy, official-looking leather folder. It was their notarized Family Trust and Beneficiary dossier. He slammed it down on the dining table right in front of Carter. “Look for yourself.” Carter eyed it suspiciously. He opened the folder, flipped past the legal jargon, and checked the primary beneficiary pages. Slowly, the tension left his shoulders. A look of total relief washed over his face. He let out a short laugh. “Wow. I almost let this little maid play me.” He tossed the folder back onto the table. “Arthur, Martha, your housekeeper is severely unhinged. She doesn’t just refuse to work, she’s a compulsive liar.” I froze. My heart dropped into my stomach. I lunged forward and snatched the folder off the table. There were only three names listed under the primary family unit. Grantor: Arthur. Grantor: Martha. Sole Beneficiary and Child: Stella. The rest of the space was blank. There was no second daughter. There was no Riley. Any record of my existence in this family’s legal framework had been completely scrubbed. My hands started to shake. I looked up at Mom and Dad. Neither of them would meet my eyes. They just awkwardly smiled and tried to usher Carter back into his seat to eat. Under Stella’s profile, it listed her former name: Sarah. She changed her name five years ago. And the date stamped on this trust document was exactly five years ago. It hit me like a freight train. I thought she just threw a tantrum and changed her name. I had absolutely no idea they used that opportunity to legally erase me from the family entirely. An overwhelming, suffocating wave of grief washed through my chest. Stella, feeling victorious, sneered at me. Her voice dripped with malice. “Do you finally understand now? Read the room. Know your place.” She dropped back into her chair and tilted her chin toward the garlic shrimp. “Alright, enough drama. Stop standing there like an idiot and peel my food.” The side of my face still throbbed fiercely from the slap. My mind was spinning. Dad glared at me, his eyes dead and cold. “Let me make this perfectly clear, Riley. You are the help. There is no place for you in this family. You aren’t in the paperwork, which means you do not exist.” He pointed a stiff finger at Stella. “Whatever your sister tells you to do, you do it. Stop being so ungrateful.” Stella laughed, highly amused. “Exactly, Dad. Look at her standing there. A maid trying to play the tragic victim.” Carter, completely relaxed now, picked up his fork. “Alright, enough wasting time. Peel the shrimp, carve the meat, and then go wait in your little maid’s room. I’m tired of looking at you.” I looked at the three of them sitting around the table, a perfectly happy little family. And I smiled. I smiled so hard tears actually pricked the corners of my eyes. I was laughing at my own stupidity. I was so stupid to think that if I just endured it, things would get better. So stupid to think they actually loved me deep down. So stupid to let my heart soften over and over again. I literally just got slapped across the face, and a part of my brain was still trying to call them mom and dad. I tilted my head back and wiped the tear away. Then, I looked dead at the three people waiting for me to serve them. Stella rolled her eyes. “Are you psycho? What are you smiling at? Hurry up, the seafood is getting cold and gross.” I took a very deep breath. I reached out, grabbed the heavy fabric of the tablecloth with both hands, and yanked it backward with everything I had. Plates, bowls, and glasses launched into the air. Stella screamed, scrambling backward as hot garlic butter and cocktail sauce splashed all over her designer dress. Carter leaped up, cursing loudly as dark gravy ruined the front of his expensive trousers. Mom and Dad sat frozen in absolute shock. I grinned at them. “You guys like legal documents? Perfect. I have some too.” I turned around, walked calmly into my bedroom, and pulled a thick manila envelope from my safe. I walked back into the dining room, stepped over the shattered porcelain, and tossed the official Title Deed to the house onto the bare table. “Take a good look. The sole owner of this property is Riley. The girl who doesn’t exist.” I crossed my arms. “So right now, the girl who doesn’t exist is telling all of you to get the hell out of my house.”

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To dodge overtime, I’d cultivated a reputation as a “wife-obsessed madman.” Every day, rain or shine, I clocked out on the dot to go home and cook for my wife and kid. If I didn’t, my wife would “discipline” me. My colleagues all thought my life was a living hell. I never imagined the tables would turn so spectacularly. My ex-girlfriend, Victoria Borstein, just bought our company. She was flipping through everyone’s attendance records when her eyes landed on me. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes played on her lips. “The entire company, and you’re the only one who never works overtime. The reason being… you have to go home and cook for your wife and kid?” A coworker next to me immediately jumped to my defense. “Please, Ms. Borstein, you have to understand. His wife’s temper is… notoriously bad.” He then pulled up my sleeve, revealing a fresh scrape on my arm. Victoria’s face instantly darkened. Without a word, she grabbed me and dragged me into the CEO’s office, slamming me against the back of the door. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and she growled through clenched teeth, “Asher Sterling, we only broke up two years ago. Were you in that much of a hurry to marry a woman like that?” 1 Out in the world, your identity is what you make it. My persona at the office was simple: The ultimate simp. Married, with a kid. Every other sentence was about my wife and child. Because of this, I was the only person in the entire company who could leave on time every single day. Everyone knew the score—if I was late getting home, dinner would be delayed, and my wife would beat me. I didn’t care about overtime pay or comp days. I had zero ambition, a perfectly chill, non-competitive employee. My colleagues loved having someone so utterly non-threatening around. My real happiness began after I clocked out. A few drinks with the guys, checking out some hot girls, enjoying life. Life was peaceful, uncomplicated. Until our company was acquired. And the new CEO was my… ex-girlfriend. 2 Honestly, the day Victoria Borstein descended upon our office, my brain short-circuited. Perfectly styled curls, an expensive designer suit, and a gaze that could freeze hell over. She was no longer the girl from two years ago; she radiated the powerful, sophisticated aura of a queen. A flock of assistants trailed behind her. She walked like she had her own personal soundtrack. I run this town, I do as I please, the world is at my feet. I run this town, I never, ever look back. Every eye was on her. The next second, I let out a massive sneeze. Was she trying to fumigate the office with that perfume? Every head swiveled in my direction. To maintain my “married dad” persona, I was currently sporting a puffy black down jacket with a pair of tacky, floral-print oversleeves. Victoria’s gaze landed on me, and she let out a small, contemptuous scoff. “If I recall correctly, this is the only employee in the entire company who never works overtime.” She made a show of flipping through the work logs in her hand. “What’s the problem? Is the overtime pay not good enough? We offer a bonus, comp time, and we even reimburse your cab fare. Mr. Sterling, do you have a problem with the company?” “No, Ms. Borstein,” I replied, my face a blank mask. An older colleague, seeing the new boss was singling me out, rushed over to smooth things over. “Ms. Borstein, you don’t understand, Asher has it really rough.” My stomach dropped. Oh no. But it was too late. My colleague grabbed my sleeve and yanked it up. A prominent scrape was on full display. …The truth was, I got wasted with my buddies at a bar last night and took a spill on my way out. “You see, Ms. Borstein? Asher has to be home on time every single day to cook for his wife and kid. If he’s late… well.” She trailed off, looking at me with profound pity. The implication hung heavy in the air. My toes curled in embarrassment. But I’d made my bed, and now I had to lie in it. I closed my eyes, resigned to my fate, and nodded. “That’s right. If I don’t get home on time to make dinner, my wife beats me.” I looked up and met Victoria’s incredulous gaze. “And that, Ms. Borstein, is why I don’t work overtime.” 3 The papers in Victoria’s hand crumpled, her knuckles turning white. A vein pulsed at her temple. She stared at me, her fury barely contained. “Say that again. Who beats you?” “His wife! Ms. Borstein, you have no idea, the woman is a monster!” another colleague chimed in, and suddenly the whole office was buzzing with sympathy for me. My older colleague was a notorious gossip. Most of the “evil deeds” of my fictional wife were a product of office rumor-mongering. But I couldn’t deny it now. I just lowered my head and picked at my fingers, feeling the burn of their collective pity. I felt like a tragic hero from a soap opera. Victoria’s jaw was clenched tight, her expression growing darker with every whispered comment. Finally, she’d had enough. “That’s enough,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the chatter. “I understand the situation. Everyone, get back to work.” I felt a wave of relief wash over me and tried to slip away, but a hand suddenly clamped down on the back of my neck, grabbing the hood of my jacket. “You,” she said, her voice like ice. “Come with me.” 4 Victoria dragged me by the arm, the air around her crackling with murderous intent. “Ms. Borstein, where are you taking me? Couldn’t we have talked back there?” “What? Does the boss need your permission on where to conduct a meeting now?” “…Right. You’re the boss. You’re the biggest.” The second we were inside her office, the door slammed shut with a deafening bang. The next thing I knew, I was pinned against it. Her eyes were dark, burning into me, her chest heaving. I slowly turned my head away. “Ms. Borstein, this is highly inappropriate.” “Hah. Ms. Borstein?” she scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her. “When things were good, you called me ‘baby.’ Now that you’ve got someone new, it’s ‘Ms. Borstein.’” Okay, I take back what I said about her being mature. She was just as childish as ever. “Should I call you ‘boss’ then?” I tried to create some space between us. “Boss, I’m a married man. I have a wife and a child. What you’re doing right now constitutes workplace harassment.” Victoria froze for a second, then let out a cold, humorless laugh and released me. “Asher, you dump me, and two years later, you’re in such a rush that you marry a piece of trash like that?” I had no response. I just offered a polite smile. She slumped into her office chair, tugging at the collar of her blouse, looking utterly defeated. “Who was it that swore they would never, ever get married?” “You know what they say. You don’t know what you’re missing ’til you meet the one,” I spouted, pulling the cliché out of thin air. “And your ‘one’ beats you?” “…” I was speechless. She continued, her voice rising. “Everyone in your office knows your wife hits you. Every day you practically sprint out of there, terrified of being late with dinner. You said that, didn’t you?” “…Yes, that’s what I said.” “Then why are you still defending her?” “…She’s nice to me when she’s not hitting me.” Victoria stared at me, her eyes a mixture of pain and anger. “What happened to you? The old you wouldn’t have blinked while kicking me to the curb. And since when do you cook? I used to thank God you didn’t burn the kitchen down. It’s only been two years. Where did that ruthless bastard I knew go? You told me you were against marriage, but you managed to have a kid with this psycho in two years? What, was I just the wrong season for you?” I silently retracted my earlier thought about being a tragic hero. Clearly, she was the one auditioning for the part. “Ms. Borstein,” I interrupted. She looked up at me, her expression pitiful, as if she were waiting for an explanation. Unfortunately, I had none to give. I curved my lips into a small smile. “It’s quitting time. I should get home and start dinner.” “Asher Sterling!” she seethed, her voice shaking with rage. “I hate you.” “Hate away. Just don’t dock my pay.” “Goodbye, Ms. Borstein.” I closed the office door gently behind me and walked away without looking back. 5 The next few days were quiet. Victoria didn’t bother me again. I was secretly pleased. It seemed the “married dad” persona was also an effective ex-girlfriend repellent. Until one rainy afternoon, when I was stranded on a street corner, unable to hail a cab. A Porsche pulled up beside me. The window rolled down. Victoria was leaning back in the driver’s seat, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Pouring rain, and your dear wife didn’t come to pick you up?” “She’s busy with work,” I said dismissively. “Hah, how busy can she be?” she sneered. “A happy wife means a happy life, haven’t you heard? A miserable wife brings a miserable life.” “Right, right. Not everyone can be as enlightened as you. You must have taken a masterclass in wifely duties.” My retort seemed to hit a nerve. She frowned. “Asher, with that sharp tongue of yours, how could anyone possibly bully you?” I was in no mood to argue. I just opened the door and slid in. “Let’s go. South Orchid Apartments.” “Who said I was giving you a ride?” Still playing tough. She’d already circled the block three times. And I’d already spotted two large boxes in the back seat: a limited-edition giant Gundam model and a complete Barbie doll set. “You’ve already bought presents for my kid. Still want to pretend you weren’t going to give me a lift?” Caught, the tips of her ears turned red. She looked away, clearing her throat. “I did the math. The kid isn’t yours, is it?” she asked, her voice full of false confidence. “You married a divorcée? Is the little freeloader a boy or a girl?” “He’s mine,” I said, my voice serious. “My son.” I paused, then delivered the final, crushing blow. “He’s only a little over a year old, though. Too young for a Gundam.” Victoria’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. She took a sharp breath, and when she spoke again, her voice trembled. “Asher, we broke up two years ago… and your son is over a year old. Are you telling me you got with her the second we broke up?” Her eyes were already starting to glisten. I sighed. “Maybe we should drop it. I’m afraid you’re going to start crying.” She slammed her foot on the gas, and the car shot forward. The rest of the drive was silent. By the time we reached my apartment building, she looked like an angry, puffed-up blowfish. Before I got out, I said, “Let’s just let the past be the past. I’m happy to see you’re a big-shot CEO now. Goodbye.” 6 The first thing I saw when I got home was the overturned cat food bowl. And lying next to it, my fat cat, giving me the dirtiest look imaginable. “Alright, alright, I’m sorry. The rain was bad, I was only a little late. Don’t be mad, Your Majesty.” I opened a can of wet food and mixed it into his kibble, then placed it reverently on his little dining stand. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was Victoria, her voice cold. “You forgot the presents for your kid.” I glanced at my cat, who was busy inhaling his dinner. “It’s fine. He’d probably just break them anyway.” “Asher,” she said, her voice suddenly serious. “Yeah?” “Divorce your wife. I’ll be your wife instead.” I was stunned for a few seconds, then laughed. “Ms. Borstein, you’re harassing me again.” “Then sue me! I’m going crazy!” Her voice suddenly shot up, filled with a raw, desperate frustration. “I’m downstairs right now, looking at the light in your window, thinking about you living with another woman… and I just want to come up there and shoot her.” Such a drama queen. Always with the threats. “You seem to be forgetting, your highness,” I said drily, “You’re back from the States. We have gun control here.” “…Can you be serious for one second?” “Fine, go ahead. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can go home.” “Divorce her. I’ll raise the kid. I promise I’ll treat him like my own. If you don’t believe me, I’ll go get sterilized right now.” Silence from my end. She grew more agitated. “The kid can have your last name, and I’ll take the kid’s last name. How about that?” “Impressive,” I finally said, wanting to applaud. “Why don’t you just take my wife’s last name?” The other end of the line went silent. A few seconds later, I heard a sniffle, then her voice, laced with venom. “Asher Sterling, you don’t even treat me like a human being.” The line went dead with a sharp click. I let out a long breath. They say you’ll be haunted for a lifetime by the thing you couldn’t have when you were young. But sometimes, a single moment can set you free from that obsession. It’s true for things, and it’s true for people. A memory is just a memory. It has no power. 7 When Victoria and I were at our best, we were both fresh out of college. We were young, broke, and running on love alone. We were crammed into a tiny rental, inseparable the moment we got home from work. From the living room to the bedroom, from the bedroom to the bathroom. We were disgustingly, intoxicatingly in love. By the time we finally collapsed into bed, I was too exhausted to even move. She would lie beside me, twirling a strand of my hair, her eyes sparkling. “Baby, I have to be honest with you. I’m actually a down-and-out heiress. I ran away because I hated the life my father planned for me. You’re so amazing, you don’t mind that I’m poor.” “And even though I love being crammed in this tiny apartment with you, when we get married, we’ll have to get a big mansion, right? Do you like sports cars? Oh, no, that’s a bad idea, they’re too fast. We’ll get you a chauffeur instead.” I was so tired my head was spinning. I just assumed she was delirious, murmuring “uh-huh, sure” to whatever she said. After all, I was with her for her looks. For a beautiful woman, being poor was a plus. So I never took her words seriously. Until she started acting strange. She was always frowning, lost in thought. She started taking calls in secret, hiding her phone. My conclusion was immediate: she was cheating on me. I could handle a poor, beautiful woman. I could not handle a dirty, unfaithful one. One night, while she was asleep, I secretly jotted down the number that had been calling her so frequently. Worried the other guy was being played, I even sent him a message, telling him Victoria had a boyfriend. To my surprise, he asked to meet. The person who showed up was Victoria’s father.

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My fifth miscarriage happened in my thirty-fifth year. Our marriage, worn thin by mutual exhaustion, finally reached its end. We signed the divorce papers quietly, without a fight. It wasn’t long before my ex-husband, William, was with a college girl in her early twenties. She got pregnant almost immediately. When I moved out of the mansion that was once a symbol of our happiness, only his assistant was there to help. He was a handsome young man, sharp and fit in tailored trousers, hauling heavy boxes back and forth, his brow glistening with a light sweat. I felt the weight of the bank card in my purse, the one with the nine-figure settlement, and a wild, reckless thought sparked in my mind. “Lucas,” I called out to him. “Have you ever considered working for me instead?” “I’ll pay you fifty thousand a month.” The moment the words left my mouth, I regretted them. He was an educated, respectable young man. Why would he ever agree to something like this? But to my utter shock, Lucas took a step closer, his expression perfectly serious. “Yes, Audrey,” he said without hesitation. “I’d love to.” 1 A sheen of sweat still clung to Lucas’s face, making his fair skin seem almost luminous. A strange pang of guilt hit me. “I’m sorry, Lucas. That was out of line. Please, just forget I said anything.” He was only twenty-six. What in the world was I doing? The divorce from William must have scrambled my brain more than I thought. I let out a quiet sigh, missing the flicker of disappointment in Lucas’s eyes. After the last box was loaded into the moving truck, I took one final look at the house behind me. I had poured my soul into this place after William and I married. From the interior design to the landscaping, every inch was a testament to my love for him. I truly believed we would spend the rest of our lives here. I never imagined it would all be over in just fifteen years. Unlike other wealthy men, it was I who had asked for the divorce. In fifteen years of marriage, he had been good to me, for the most part. Every three years, like clockwork, I would get pregnant. And every time, around the fourth or fifth month, I would lose the baby. This last time, we were pathologically careful. He even washed my underwear for me. But despite all the painstaking effort, all it took was a single sneeze, and the baby was gone. In that moment, something inside me died. My heart was a landscape of ash, incapable of producing even the faintest spark. I told William we should just get a divorce. He was still under forty; he could find another woman, have all the children he wanted. That night, his eyes were red-rimmed and sleepless. The next day, he handed me a prepared divorce agreement. He gave me a third of his five-billion-dollar fortune. On top of that, two estates upstate and a five-story commercial building downtown were transferred to my name. To be fair, he didn’t cheat me. We went through the proceedings peacefully. After signing the final document, he pulled me into a hug. “Audrey,” he whispered, “if there’s a next life, let’s be together again.” His words felt like a thousand tiny needles piercing my heart. I almost broke, almost begged him to take it all back, to forget the divorce, to adopt a child instead. But the very next day, I brought a thermos of homemade chicken soup to his office, only to see him walking into the building with his arm wrapped protectively around a young woman in her early twenties. She had a small, rounded belly, already further along than I had ever been. I couldn’t name the feeling that washed over me. It was a bitter cocktail of dark humor and sharp pain. I sat on a bench across the street for the entire morning, lost in a daze, until Lucas found me and gently called my name. I fled, humiliated. After I moved out, I couldn’t resist hiring a private investigator. I learned the girl’s name was Jessica, a new intern at William’s company. Her fluent French had landed her a few translation gigs for him. A few business trips together, and one thing had led to another. But Jessica had standards. Even pregnant, she made it clear she would never be his mistress. William, utterly besotted, set her up in a luxury downtown apartment. The moment our divorce was finalized, he moved her into our old home. He hired a butler, a chauffeur, two nannies, and two maids, all to ensure she had the most comfortable pregnancy possible. I sat in my new, empty apartment, staring at the investigator’s report and drinking bottle after bottle of wine. I drank until my stomach seized in protest, until I was finally forced to admit the truth. I had lost. I had lost a game I never even knew I was playing, in a relationship that was rotten to the core. And I had been completely, utterly blind to it all. 2 Divorced. But life had to go on. My entire adult life had been dedicated to being the perfect Mrs. Knight. I’d mastered the arts of social grace and catering to a man’s every need. Now, suddenly flush with cash and stripped of my husband, I had no idea what to do with myself. Out of habit, I went to the grocery store and filled a cart with all of William’s favorite foods. It was only at the checkout that I remembered we were divorced. I went home and numbly made a pot of soup, then poured it all down the drain. Then I sat by the window and stared into space. What were William and Jessica doing now? With a baby on the way, they were probably reading to her belly, playing classical music for the child. William would be a good father. He deserved to be. When I first met him, he was just a sophomore in college. He wasn’t old, but he carried himself with an incredible intensity. We were on competing teams in a business plan competition. He annihilated my team. It was brutal. And it was that day I fell for the brilliant, driven young man with the gold-rimmed glasses who always came in first. Our first year together was a blur of youthful passion. One night, we were careless. We had our first child. But he had nothing back then, and my parents would never let me marry a man with no prospects. After a night spent crying in each other’s arms, we made the heartbreaking decision to terminate the pregnancy. After that, my body changed. I became prone to miscarriages. Every pregnancy ended in loss. William poured immense effort into fixing it. He took me to traditional healers and top specialists, all in an attempt to heal my body. We tried for fifteen years. In the end, we were left with nothing. Staring at the gloomy sky outside, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was my punishment. A curse from our first child, because I didn’t fight hard enough to keep him. Was that why I was no longer worthy of being a mother? An unbearable sorrow washed over me. I pressed my forehead against the cold glass, and the tears finally came. 3 From that day on, my mental state deteriorated. I grew so disoriented that I’d slip back into the past, thinking William and I were still married. One afternoon, I drove to his office on autopilot. The security guard at the front desk stopped me. I just stood there, confused, not fully processing the situation. “You say you’re Mrs. Knight?” the guard scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh. The real Mrs. Knight just went inside.” He gestured toward Jessica’s retreating back. “See that? The boss’s wife is young and beautiful. Not… whatever you are.” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was enough to draw stares from passersby. Their sharp, curious glances felt like tiny daggers on my skin, making my cheeks burn with shame. I overheard employees who recognized me whispering. “Isn’t that his first wife? The one he kicked out because she couldn’t have kids.” “I saw her not too long ago, she didn’t look this rough. What happened? She looks like she’s aged twenty years.” I scrambled to a reflective surface and stared at my reflection. They were right. The woman staring back was a ghost, a hollowed-out horror. I fled, my heart pounding in my chest. Before I could even make sense of it all, my phone rang. It was William. His tone was colder and sharper than I had ever heard it. “Audrey, I heard you came by the office today.” My thoughts were a tangled mess. A wave of pathetic self-pity washed over me. “Yes,” I mumbled. “I… I just missed you.” “William, I regret it. I shouldn’t have…” Divorced you. He cut me off before I could finish. “Audrey, I gave you everything you were owed. Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” His voice was laced with ice. “My wife is pregnant. She’s only six months along. You’ve been pregnant. You know how important it is for her to be stress-free right now.” “And what do you do? You show up at my office, making a scene. What is it? Just because you couldn’t carry a baby to term, you want to make her lose hers too?” Before I could even form a defense, he hung up. A moment later, a text message buzzed on my phone. [I’ve sent you another fifty million. Take the money and get the hell out of my life.] The number in my bank account was a string of cold, meaningless zeros. I covered my face with my hands, unable to make a sound. The apartment felt like a cage. William’s cruel words echoed in my head. I grabbed my car keys and drove, ending up at the first bar I saw. And that’s where I found Lucas. Off the clock, he was dressed in a casual shirt and jeans, a lock of hair falling across his forehead, making him look even younger. He was with a group of guys who looked about his age. They were all chattering away, but he sat in the middle of it all, silent and still. I don’t know what possessed me, but my feet started moving on their own. I had barely reached their table when one of his friends spoke up, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Ma’am, can we help you?” 4 His tone was mocking. In a place like this, pulsing with music and desire, what else could a woman approaching a group of young men want? I ignored him and met Lucas’s gaze. “Lucas,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “About my offer the other day. Is it still on the table?” This time, Lucas didn’t respond with the same instant eagerness. His dark eyes studied my face for a long moment. “Are you sure this time, Audrey? This isn’t just another impulse?” I nodded. “I’m sure.” “And one more thing. I’m divorced. It’s Ms. Thorne now.” A slow smile spread across his face as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek. In one fluid motion, he reached out, grabbed my arm, and pulled me into his lap. I was instantly enveloped in his scent, a clean, masculine energy that was both overwhelming and intoxicating. His body was firm and well-defined, the muscles of his chest solid beneath my palm. He took my hand, his voice a low murmur against my ear. “You have to be sure, Audrey. Because this time, once you buy, there are no returns.” He leaned in closer, his presence suddenly powerful, almost predatory. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, my dead, silent heart gave a strange, fluttery beat. On pure instinct, my hand went up, my fingers curling around the back of his neck. I kissed him. His lips were warm and soft. After more than a decade as a housewife, I had almost forgotten what this felt like. A single kiss was enough to ignite a fire I thought had long since burned out. If we hadn’t been in a crowded bar, surrounded by people, things would have escalated very, very quickly. Lucas cupped the back of my head, his thumb stroking my cheek as he gently licked the corner of my mouth. “Wow, Audrey,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “You’re good. I almost lost control.” His friends stared, their jaws on the floor. The one who had mocked me earlier just stammered, unable to form a single word. I tossed a wad of cash on the table for them to enjoy their night. Then I took Lucas by the hand and led him straight to a hotel. 5 That night was a blur of frenzied passion. We were so wrapped up in each other that Lucas was late for work the next morning. There was a crucial meeting at Knight Industries that he was supposed to lead. William’s call came while Lucas was still in my bed. “Hello, Mr. Knight.” “Where the hell are you? The meeting starts in thirty minutes!” Lucas shot me a chagrined look. “My apologies, sir. I’m on my way.” He hung up, threw on his clothes, and rushed out the door. I got up and took a long, slow shower, feeling my senses gradually return. I had just slept with a man nine years my junior. The feeling was strange… and exhilarating. It was the delicious, terrifying thrill of a good girl trying on a corset for the first time. As promised, I transferred a million dollars to Lucas’s account. A moment later, a message from him appeared on my phone. [?] I typed back: [Your allowance.] He replied: […Thank you, boss.] It was followed by a smiling puppy emoji. I looked at it, and a slow smile spread across my own face. As I was checking out of the hotel, I found myself drawn to the boutique next door. I bought a pile of lingerie I never would have dared to wear before. As I passed the dress section, the sales associate saw the look in my eye. “Are you looking for something special? We just got our new collection in. It has a very chic, effortless vibe. Absolutely perfect for a woman with your… sophistication.” She was good. Before I knew it, I had bought several more dresses. When I tried on a long, pink slip dress, I hesitated. “Isn’t this… a little too young for me? I’m thirty-five.” The associate shook her head emphatically. “Not at all! It looks stunning on you. And listen, this isn’t a girly, bubblegum pink. It’s a sophisticated dogwood blush, perfect for a woman with your experience. It suits you perfectly.” “It might feel a little off right now because you don’t have your makeup or hair done,” she continued, her voice full of encouragement. “But if you got some long, soft curls? With your features, you could be a movie star.” Her words worked their magic. After buying the clothes, I went straight to a salon and had my hair done. Back home, I spread all my new purchases out on the bed. After a long moment, I made a decision. I packed up all my old, “appropriate” clothes, the ones that screamed “sensible wife.” Every single one went into a donation bag. My drab, matronly pajamas and underwear? Thrown in the trash. As I looked around, even the apartment started to feel wrong. I picked up my phone and called a real estate agent. “Hello? I’m looking for a villa.” A few days later, I moved into a house even bigger than the one I had shared with William. 6 I hired a new design firm and redecorated the entire house from top to bottom. I was so busy that I didn’t have time to see Lucas. He had tried to give me some space, but after a few days of silence, he sent me a message. “Hey, boss. What are you up to?” I replied: “Gardening.” It was a hobby I’d had for over a decade, a hard habit to break. So when Lucas finally tracked me down, he found me in a flowing new dress, on my hands and knees, pulling weeds in the garden. He couldn’t help but laugh. “Audrey, what is this?” I realized, with a start, that it probably looked a little strange. After changing my clothes, I took him out to dinner. It was my first time eating out with a man who wasn’t William, and it felt a little awkward. Lucas placed a hand on the small of my back to guide me. Seeing my discomfort, a smile played on his lips. “Audrey, you’re the rich one here,” he whispered. “You’re the one paying my bills. Act like it. Own it.” “…Right,” I said. I had absolutely no experience in this whole “sugar mama” thing. My instincts were to take care of him, to pay attention to what he liked to eat. Lucas watched me, then suddenly chuckled. “You’ve got the money, but you don’t have the attitude,” he observed. “Why is that? Isn’t a nine-figure bank account enough to give you a little swagger?” I’d forgotten he was the one who handled the divorce papers. He knew exactly how much I was worth. I touched my nose, feeling a little self-conscious. “Honestly, Lucas… I got together with your old boss when I was twenty-one. He’s the only man I’ve ever been with.” “Before we were married, my parents’ world revolved around my younger brother. They were never really satisfied with me. After I got with William, everywhere we went, people only ever praised him. I was invisible. Plus, I’ve never been that interested in money. It’s just… hard to switch gears and act like a big shot overnight.” Lucas rested his chin on his hand, studying me for a long time. Then he leaned in close, his eyes narrowed with mock seriousness. “Oh no, Audrey. We have a problem.” Thinking something was wrong, I leaned in too, my voice hushed. “What is it?” He quickly pecked me on the lips. “You’re just too damn beautiful.” A hot blush instantly spread across my face. 7 Younger men really know what they’re doing. Lucas showered me with sweet nothings day in and day out, and over time, he actually managed to coax a bit of a pampered, playful side out of me. That, combined with a very fulfilling nightlife, brought a healthy glow back to my cheeks. Sometimes, I’d catch my reflection and even I had to admit, I looked pretty good. The high-society circle in this city is small. Even after the divorce, some invitations were unavoidable. Case in point: the wife of one of William’s business partners was having a birthday party, and she invited both of us. I didn’t want to go, but she called me repeatedly, insisting. So, I decided to make a brief appearance. I put on some light makeup, slipped into the pink dress I’d bought, and took a cab to the Gables’ estate. As soon as I walked in, I saw a familiar group of society wives clustered around Jessica, fawning over her. “Oh, you must be due any day now! And I can just tell, it’s a boy.” Jessica smiled shyly. “Yes, we had it checked. It’s a boy.” One of the women, Mrs. Chen, was particularly sycophantic. “See? You’re the lucky one. Not like William’s last wife. Old, plain, and couldn’t even keep a baby. If you ask me, William was too kind. I would have kicked her out years ago.” I hadn’t realized so many people were eager to kick me when I was down, even after a “peaceful” divorce. What shocked me more was that William was standing right there, listening to it all, and didn’t say a single word to defend me. It was Mrs. Gable, the hostess, who finally intervened, smoothly changing the subject. Just as they were discussing what kind of baby bottles to buy for William’s son, someone finally noticed me. The woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “Are you… Mrs. Knight?” I offered a gentle smile. “William and I are divorced. You can just call me Audrey.” A wave of disbelief washed over the group. Everyone stared at me. Even William. A flicker of stunned admiration crossed his face. “Audrey?” “Yes,” I nodded, handing my gift to the hostess. “Mrs. Gable, happy birthday. I have another engagement, so I won’t be staying long.” After a polite nod to the group, I turned and walked out of the party. I had just reached the end of the driveway when I heard someone call my name from behind. I turned. It was William.

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The next time I opened my eyes, I was back on the day I got the pregnancy test results. My sister had just broken up with her childhood sweetheart in a fit of anger. That same night, he got drunk, and we slept together. When I found out I was pregnant, my sister chose to step aside for us. She went abroad, leaving us to build a life. He locked himself in his room for a full day. When he emerged, he told me he would marry me, that he would give me and our child a home. Our marriage was one of polite distance, but we managed a semblance of happiness. But our child was born with a cruel, congenital disease. After three years of agonizing treatments, we still couldn’t save him. The grief shattered me, and I wasted away, dying of a broken heart not long after. He spent the rest of his life tending to our graves. Only on the day he died did he whisper to our headstones that he had paid his debt to us. If there was a next life, he said, all he wanted was to find my sister. This time, I tore the pregnancy report to shreds and immediately scheduled an abortion. 1 In my past life, our child was born with a genetic defect. Every day was a struggle, filled with pain. No matter what treatments we tried, we were only delaying the inevitable. This time, I refused to let my child suffer like that again. And I refused to trap myself in a loveless marriage, a slow and agonizing torture. I had just gotten home when a warm hand grabbed my arm. “Lena!” I turned to see my sister, Seraphina, her eyes wide with worry. She pulled me quickly to a small wisteria-covered gazebo in our community garden and gently pushed me to sit down. This gazebo was once our sanctuary. When she and her childhood sweetheart, Asher, were on dates, I would always tag along like a little shadow. While they sat and talked, I would lean over the railing, watching the koi fish swim in the pond below. Sometimes, Asher would get annoyed and try to bribe me with snacks to go play somewhere else. But Sera would always protect me. “Lena can stay right here if she wants. If you have a problem with it, you can leave.” Now, in this new life, everything had changed. “Sera, what’s wrong?” I asked, trying my best to sound natural. She stared into my eyes, her voice low and urgent. “Did Asher hurt you?” She knelt in front of me, her hands gripping mine. “Tell me the truth, Lena. Did he do something to you?” Unlike my past life, where I had desperately tried to explain, this time I remained silent. I was the adopted daughter of the Jiang family. They took me in when I was seven. Sera was three years older than me, but she never once treated me like an outsider. She shared everything with me, from her favorite snacks to her most treasured toys. If someone bullied me, she was the first to jump to my defense. When I was sick, she would stay up all night by my side. My adoptive parents treated me as their own, providing for my education and giving me the best life they could. They even made it clear that their inheritance would be split equally between me and Sera. In my past life, I was so consumed by my love for Asher that I took their warmth for granted. It wasn’t until I was on my deathbed that I realized they were the ones I had wronged the most. This time, I would not let history repeat itself. I forced a lighthearted smile and patted her hand. “Sera, what are you talking about? I’m his future sister-in-law. Asher wouldn’t dare mess with me. He’s too scared I’ll say something bad about him to Mom and Dad and they won’t let you two get married.” Her frown deepened. “Lena, don’t lie to me… That night a month ago, when I told him we were breaking up… he got completely wasted. Were you with him?” Her voice trembled slightly. “Did he do something to you? If he dared to hurt you, I’ll kill him!” My fingers curled into a fist. This was exactly how it had happened before. Her relentless questioning, my flimsy excuses. It had all come out in a tearful confession in front of our parents. After that, Sera locked herself in her room for three days. Then she calmly packed her bags, applied for a master’s program abroad, and never looked back. She would only send gifts on my birthday and holidays, with a simple, detached note. Our parents sighed with sorrow, but they always put on a brave face for me, telling me not to worry. But the atmosphere in our home was never the same again. And Asher and I, we lived in a hollow marriage, sleeping in separate rooms, two polite strangers, until our family was torn apart by tragedy. I dug my nails into my palm, the sharp pain keeping me grounded in the present. I looked up, my expression open and innocent. “Sera, who’ve you been listening to? I was asleep early that night. I didn’t see him at all.” I tilted my head and gestured behind her with my chin. “If you don’t believe me, why don’t you just ask Asher? The man himself wouldn’t lie, would he?” 2 As if on cue, a soft footstep sounded from behind the gazebo. Sera turned. Asher stood under the wisteria trellis, holding a bouquet of fresh white roses. He was tall and handsome, with sharp, intelligent eyes. His gaze flickered over me for a split second before quickly moving to Sera, his expression instantly softening into a look of pure adoration. That look was always reserved for her. He walked over and offered her the flowers, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “Sera, I’m sorry. I was an idiot that night. I never should have said we were breaking up.” She turned her head away with a sniff but didn’t push the flowers away. “I haven’t forgiven you yet.” “I know,” he said, his voice gentle, his eyes full of affection. “You can punish me however you want. Just… don’t ignore me.” I sat there, watching them, a familiar ache in my chest. This was how they were supposed to be. The perfect couple, deeply in love. All the tragedy had stemmed from that one drunken mistake. Suddenly, Sera turned back to Asher, her tone serious. “Asher, I have to ask you something. Have you ever, in any way, hurt Lena?” Asher’s body went rigid. His eyes found mine again, and this time, he didn’t look away. I could clearly see a storm of emotions in them: panic, a flicker of blame, and something else I couldn’t quite decipher. He was blaming me for bringing this up, for ruining his apology. And perhaps there was a sliver of guilt, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared. “Of course not,” he said, his voice steady, but with an undercurrent of tension. “Lena is your sister. I would never do anything to hurt her.” I quickly took Sera’s hand, trying to smooth things over. “See, Sera? I told you. Stop worrying. You two just made up. Go on your date, don’t waste your time with me.” But Sera held onto my hand, her eyes twinkling. “Actually, you said you wanted to see that new sci-fi movie, right? Let’s all go together. The three of us.” We used to be inseparable. Asher doted on Sera, and by extension, he was always kind to me. Dinners, movies, it was always the three of us. But now, the words flew out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Let’s not take her this time.” The air went still. Sera looked at him, confused. “Why not? We always go together.” A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. “Besides, we haven’t officially made up yet. I can go with whoever I want.” Asher’s face paled. He was at a loss for words. How could he possibly bring me along, with such a huge secret hanging between us? I quickly pulled Sera aside, whispering, “Sera, you know how he is. He’s all talk. He was just saying that because he was angry. He secretly asked me to put in a good word for you a few days ago.” “You two just made up,” I pushed. “You need some time alone. I’d just be a third wheel. You go on your date, and I’ll go home and catch up on sleep.” My words seemed to soften her, and she was about to agree. But in that exact moment, I clapped a hand over my mouth, a wave of nausea washing over me as I retched violently. My face went white, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. “Lena!” Sera cried, grabbing me to steady me. Behind her, Asher’s face contorted in alarm, his pupils constricting. His voice was a strangled whisper. “You’re not…?” 3 My heart hammered against my ribs. I waved a hand dismissively, my voice strained. “I’m fine! I ate some leftovers from the fridge last night, must have been something bad. My stomach’s just upset.” I didn’t dare look at Asher, terrified he would see the panic in my eyes. “You two go, don’t worry about me. I’ll just go home and lie down for a bit.” I pushed Sera toward Asher, my steps hurried. “You’ll be late for the movie. I’m really okay.” “No!” Sera grabbed my arm, her face etched with worry. “You look terrible. We’re going to the hospital right now. I’m taking you.” “You don’t have to!” I pleaded, my eyes welling with tears. “Sera, I know my own body. It’s just a little stomach bug. A hot cup of water and some rest, and I’ll be fine. If you don’t go now, you’ll miss the movie for sure!” Asher stood by, his expression a chaotic mix of guilt, panic, and a deep-seated fear he wouldn’t even admit to himself. Sera was about to argue, but Asher gently took her arm. He shook his head, his voice low. “Let her go home and rest. She really doesn’t look well. I’ll buy some medicine and drop it off at the house later.” Sera looked from me to Asher, and finally relented. “Alright, you go home and get some rest. Call me immediately if you feel worse.” “I will, Sera.” I watched them walk away, side by side, and let out a long, shuddering breath. My back was soaked with cold sweat. Without a moment’s delay, I pulled out my phone, called a car, and headed straight for the hospital. In the car, my phone vibrated. A message from Asher. [You’re not pregnant, are you?] The short sentence landed like a ton of bricks on my chest. My fingertips were ice-cold as I typed back: [No.] The indicator showed that he was typing a reply. The cursor blinked for a long time, but no new message appeared. Seeing his hesitation, I typed another line. [There is nothing between you and me. Never was.] [Just focus on your date with my sister. Treat her right. You don’t need to worry about anything else.] After hitting send, I put my phone on silent. I opened a group chat with my classmates. The class president was organizing a trip to see a meteor shower in a few days. I opened the sign-up sheet and added my name to the list. The car pulled up to the hospital. I walked straight to the gynecology department and scheduled the soonest available abortion procedure. The procedure was quick. It didn’t hurt as much as I had imagined. It just felt, for a brief moment, like something had been untethered from my body. After a short rest, I took the post-op diagnosis sheet and walked out of the hospital. The moment I stepped outside, a large hand clamped down on my wrist. Asher stood before me, his face a thunderous mask of anger and panic. His eyes were glued to the paper in my hand. “Lena, what are you doing at the hospital?” “You’re pregnant, aren’t you? Are you going to take that report to Sera?” His voice was a harsh, ragged whisper. “What are you trying to do? Ruin us?” His grip was painfully tight. I looked up and saw the raw fear in his eyes. He really was terrified of losing Sera over what happened between us. I held the diagnosis sheet up to his face, my voice calm and devoid of emotion. “Asher, read it carefully.” He looked down, his eyes scanning the text. His pupils contracted violently.

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It wasn’t until the absolute chaos erupted in our living room that I finally understood the vicious rumors at school weren’t just empty gossip. Men in sharp black suits pinned my mother to the cold hardwood floor. A woman stood over her, her face twisted in pure disgust, screaming that she was going to permanently ruin the seductive face my mother prized so much. My father stood a few feet away. He watched the entire scene with dead, detached eyes, like a spectator at a play. He didn’t say a single word. That was the day I learned the truth. My mother really was a homewrecker. Before this, I had heard the whispers in the school hallways. Once, a boy in my class shouted it right in my face. I was shaking with so much rage I shoved him into a desk. Back then, I naively believed they were just bored teenagers spreading toxic rumors. 1 The wealthy woman adjusted her designer coat, her high heels clicking sharply against the floor as she prepared to leave with my father in tow. Before walking out the door, she looked down at my mother with absolute contempt. “I bought this house with my money. You aren’t getting a single dime. By tomorrow morning, you and your bastard daughter need to pack your trash and get out. If you ever contact Marcus again, I will end you.” Marcus was my father. He was a gold-digger, a man from a dirt-poor background who married his way into a wealthy family. He was their kept man. And today was the day I found out my mother was nothing more than his side piece. Her beautiful face, the one she was so incredibly proud of, was bruised and scratched. My father’s legitimate wife, Victoria, was absolutely ruthless. She didn’t even wait until the next morning. A few hours later, a crew of massive security guards showed up to physically throw us out on the street. My mother collapsed on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I was the only one left to pack our lives into a few suitcases. I barely managed to grab our clothes before they started shoving us toward the door. My mother refused to leave. The mix of tears and fresh scratches on her face made her look terrifying. But these men didn’t care about being gentle. We were no longer the pampered mistresses of the house. She was practically thrown out the front door. She pounded her fists against the heavy wood, screaming at the top of her lungs. “Why are you kicking me out?! This is my house! I’m calling the cops!” The banging echoed down the hall. Neighbors peeked out of their doors, but no one inside our old apartment answered. “Mom, let’s just go. They aren’t going to open it,” I said softly. She shoved my hand away. “No! Marcus is the one who screwed up! Why do we have to pay the price?!” She had a point. But screaming at a locked door wasn’t going to fix anything. Eventually, the building security guards forcibly escorted us off the property. The entire thing happened so fast I barely had time to process it. My first priority was getting my mother to a clinic to treat the cuts on her face. My second priority was finding a cheap place to sleep. Between the two of us, we had exactly four hundred dollars to our names. When my mother followed my father to this city years ago, she had no friends, no family, and absolutely no work experience. She was a full-time kept woman. Her only hobby was playing card games with the other housewives in our upscale complex. Marcus had treated us well. At least financially, we never wanted for anything. He was always “traveling for work,” so he wasn’t home much. But whenever he did visit, he brought expensive gifts and exotic food. Nobody would have ever guessed what he really was. Looking back, his “business trips” were just him going home to his real wife. Coming to our apartment was the actual trip. Later that night, my mother lay in her clinic bed, aggressively tapping on her phone to play a mobile poker game. I sat in the plastic chair next to her. “Mom.” “What?” she muttered. “Did you know he was married?” She didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed glued to the glowing screen. That told me everything I needed to know. She knew. She knew he had a family, she knew he had a terrifyingly powerful wife, and she knew he had a son two years older than me. I pulled my knees to my chest and started chewing on my fingernails. 2 I managed to find a tiny, run-down studio apartment tucked away in a sketchy alley. Rent was two hundred bucks a month. My mother threw a massive fit the second we walked in. “What is this dump? It smells like rotting garbage!” she shrieked. “Oh my god, is that a cockroach?! Are there rats in here?! I am not staying in this hellhole!” I set our bags down on the stained carpet and just stood there, letting her scream it out. After a solid ten minutes of crying, she finally wiped her eyes. “Fine. But stop looking at me like that.” The apartment wasn’t just old. It was incredibly loud, the hot water barely worked, and the power grid was a joke. I had to drop out of my expensive private boarding school and enroll as a day student at the local public high school. I was in my freshman year. At ten o’clock on a Tuesday night, the power went out again. It was the third time that week. I calmly lit a cheap candle, pulled my math textbook closer to the flickering light, and kept solving equations. I had always been a calm person. Even with my entire world imploding, I didn’t feel like the sky was falling. Success always comes with a few detours. That was the lie I kept repeating to myself, even if I didn’t fully believe it. But I knew one thing for sure. The only way out of this miserable alleyway was studying. I needed a scholarship to a good college. A stupid power outage wasn’t going to stop me. But bad luck usually travels in packs. My mother’s sudden, blood-curdling scream pierced through the dark apartment. “Mom? What’s wrong?” I yelled. I heard her gasping for air. I dropped my pencil and sprinted into the tiny living room. A dark shadow darted away from the window, disappearing into the alley before I could even shout. I ripped the curtains shut and locked the latch. My mother was sitting on the floor, trembling violently. I knelt down next to her. “Did you see his face? What did he look like?” I asked. Her voice shook. “It was a man. Short and skinny. I didn’t see his face.” We lived on the ground floor. Whoever was looking through our window had done it on purpose. Ever since we moved in, the entire block knew this apartment was only occupied by a single mother and her teenage daughter. There were no security bars on the glass. We definitely didn’t have the money to install them. I grabbed a stack of old test papers and taped them directly to the windowpanes, completely blocking the view from the outside. I knew it was a temporary fix, but I didn’t expect the real test to happen so soon. 3 A week later, I had a massive state-wide placement exam. In our district, this test determined if you got into the elite magnet high schools for your sophomore year. I needed that golden ticket. I stayed up reviewing my notes until two in the morning. Just as I was grabbing a glass of water before bed, I heard a faint scratching sound coming from the window. It would stop, then start again. Then came a soft, rhythmic tapping on the glass. It was cautious. Testing the waters to see if anyone inside was awake. My heart hammered against my ribs. I silently grabbed the heavy metal baseball bat I had found by the dumpsters and stepped into the shadows beside the window, gripping the handle tight. The tapping stopped. I heard the faint whistle of wind pushing through a crack. The window was sliding open. I tightened my grip. The moonlight spilled onto the floor, stretching the silhouette of a man climbing through the frame. Now. I swung the bat with every ounce of strength I had in my body. There was a sickening thud of metal hitting bone, followed by a muffled, agonizing groan. The man collapsed onto the floor like a sack of bricks and didn’t move. I dropped the bat, my hands shaking violently. I nudged his leg with my foot. Nothing. All the adrenaline completely drained from my body. My knees gave out, and I slid down the wall until I hit the floor, gasping for air. My mother definitely heard the commotion. A second later, a frying pan clattered to the kitchen floor. She rushed out of her room, eyes wide with terror, and threw her arms around me. “Are you hurt? Did he touch you?” she frantically checked my face. I shook my head. “No. But Mom, I think I hit him too hard.” I had completely cracked his skull open. When the police arrived, my mother shoved me behind her and stood tall. “I hit him, officer. It was me,” she told the cops at the door. They took both my mother and the unconscious creep to the station. I went with them, but they kept me in the waiting room. The next morning, a police officer actually drove me to school so I wouldn’t miss my placement exam. When I finally got home, my mother was sitting on the couch, completely unharmed. The cops had found chloroform in the guy’s jacket pocket. His intentions were obvious. Busting his head open was ruled as clear-cut self-defense. My mother immediately went back to her usual complaining. “Look at your hair, Harper. It’s a mess,” she nagged. “And that uniform is huge on you. You look like you’re wearing Marcus’s clothes.” She stopped abruptly and looked down at her hands. “Mom,” I said quietly. “Thank you.” She turned her face away. “I know you’re furious with Marcus. Go ahead and curse him out. I hate him too.” “You don’t understand,” she muttered, her voice breaking. “He lied to me. He played with my feelings. He swore he loved me, but when Victoria was literally dragging me across the floor, he just stood there. He didn’t even try to stop her.” I knew her story. My mother grew up in a dirt-poor Appalachian coal town. She was the oldest of five kids. In places like that, the oldest daughter is basically born to suffer and sacrifice. She had no education and had never seen the world. Marcus had come to her town as a corporate land developer. He played the charming, wealthy city boy, and she fell for it instantly. She ran away with him to the city. She stayed with him for sixteen years. He had spoiled her rotten, effectively turning her into a woman who couldn’t survive on her own. After a decade and a half of luxury, she had zero practical skills. She was entirely dependent on him. These past few weeks had been a living nightmare for her. I walked over and hugged her tight. “Mom, you still have me. We’re going to survive this. We’re going to be okay.” She turned her head into my shoulder and quietly began to cry. 4 The stress of the break-in messed with my head. I missed the cutoff for the elite magnet school by a few points, but I scored high enough to get into Oakridge High, the second-best school in the city. It wasn’t perfect, but Oakridge was known for its academics, which meant I could skip the mandatory evening study halls if I kept my grades up. My mother had no degree and a massive gap in her resume. Finding a traditional job was impossible. So, she bought a secondhand food cart and started selling late-night smashburgers near the local university. Since I didn’t have to stay at school for night study, I rushed over to the cart every evening to help her. She didn’t understand modern marketing, but I did. I made an Instagram account for the cart, ran student discount promotions, and posted mouth-watering videos of the food. Sales skyrocketed. Sometimes jealous food truck owners would try to start turf wars with us, but my mother was relentless. Nobody could out-argue her. Month by month, our savings account grew. We finally had enough cash to move out of that dangerous alley. We rented a decent two-bedroom apartment near Oakridge High. It was an older building, but it was in a safe, quiet neighborhood filled with retired city workers. “I’m buying you a bicycle before school starts,” she told me proudly as we unpacked. “It’s only a five-minute ride to campus. You can sleep in a little later.” Things were finally getting better. On my first day at Oakridge, my mother walked me out to the street to see me off. At my old school, everyone knew my business. People would stare at me in the hallways and whisper, “That’s her. Her mom is a total homewrecker.” Whenever I heard that, I would confront them. If words didn’t work, I used my fists. I usually got blamed for starting the fights, and they would just sneer at me afterward. “She thinks she’s untouchable just because she gets straight A’s. Her mom is still a whore.” But Oakridge was different. Nobody knew me here. The students actually cared about their futures. Instead of throwing chairs around the classroom, they debated math problems in the halls. Every Monday, a different homeroom hosted the morning assembly. Our class was up first, and my teacher randomly selected me to be the student speaker. It was my first time doing something so public, but I wasn’t nervous. The speech went perfectly. High school let out at four, but the library was open until nine. After studying, I would usually ride my bike to the university district, help my mom pack up the food cart, and we’d go home together. But tonight was different. When I walked out to the bike racks, both of my tires were completely slashed. This was a brand-new bike. Somebody had done this on purpose. I racked my brain, but I hadn’t offended a single person since I transferred. I kept my head down and did my work. By the time I realized I couldn’t fix it, the campus was completely deserted. I pushed the broken bike down into the underground parking garage to use the shortcut to the main road. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered wildly, buzzing with static before completely dying. The garage plunged into pitch blackness. Footsteps echoed from the darkness behind me. With every heavy step, the motion-sensor lights clicked on, one by one, illuminating the path toward me. I slowly turned around. Standing in the harsh light was a face I didn’t know, but recognized instantly.

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1 On my wedding day, as Dennis waited at the altar, I did not run. Instead, I walked toward him arm in arm with his biggest rival, holding up a newly stamped document. “You can keep the wedding party,” I said calmly. “I already gave him the marriage license.” The night before, a hotel keycard had led me to the same suite where Dennis once proposed. But inside, I found him in bed with another woman. He barely flinched, lighting a cigarette as he explained he was tired of hiding the affair. “You’ll still be my wife,” he shrugged, claiming no one else would marry me after the ten years I’d spent building his company. “The wedding goes on—just not with her name on the license.” I didn’t scream or cry. Silently, I slid off my engagement ring, set it down, and walked out. The morning sun felt unnaturally bright. “Here she comes. The bride is finally coming out.” A swarm of paparazzi crowded the entrance of my hotel. Camera flashes blinded me like strobe lights. “Mona, how are you feeling on your big day?” “What do you have to say about the multimillion-dollar wedding Dennis prepared for you?” I ignored the microphones shoved in my face and stepped into the back of the waiting Maybach under the protection of my security detail. The ceremony was set to take place at Trinity Cathedral on the Upper East Side. Dennis was already standing on the stone steps of the church. He wore a pristine white tuxedo and a smile that screamed absolute control. He had called me earlier that morning. He complained that he was exhausted from his extracurricular activities last night and needed to sleep in, which was his excuse for not picking me up from the hotel. He was incredibly confident that I would still show up. His best man, Carter, let out a loud whistle as my car pulled up. He nudged Dennis in the ribs, flashing a sleazy grin. “She actually came.” “You have some serious game, man,” Carter chuckled. “You play around all night, and your bride still shows up looking like an angel. That is what I call proper training.” Another groomsman, Nate, leaned in to join the joke. “No kidding. Any other guy would be dead on his feet after a night like that, but you are standing here looking like the groom of the year. Respect.” The group of men broke into a chorus of arrogant laughter. The corner of Dennis’s mouth twitched upward. “Mona has been attached to me for a decade,” he said, his voice dripping with condescension. “Who else would possibly want her?” He glanced down at his pocket, likely thinking about the ring I had left behind. “Throwing a little temper tantrum is normal. But at the end of the day, she is still going to walk up those steps and hand her life over to me.” Carter gave him a thumbs-up. The chauffeur opened my door. I stepped out onto the pavement, the layers of my custom silk gown catching the morning light. A flash of genuine awe crossed Dennis’s face. “My wife looks absolutely stunning,” he murmured. Before he could step forward to take my hand, his phone buzzed violently in his pocket. He glanced at the screen, and his attention was completely stolen. A fond, indulgent smile spread across his lips as he stepped away from the crowd to answer the call. “What is wrong? I told you to call me later.” A sickeningly sweet, whiny voice filtered through the speaker, loud enough for me to hear. “Dennis, I am flying out to Paris this afternoon. I booked an appointment at City Hall in ten minutes. Can you please come down here? I really want to get our paperwork signed before I leave.” “Ten minutes?” Dennis let out a low, teasing laugh. “Are you really in that much of a rush?” He hung up the phone. Carter stepped closer, looking curious. “Who was that?” “Brianna.” Dennis slipped the phone back into his tailored pocket, his eyes shining with a fresh spark of excitement. “She is flying to Europe this afternoon and insists on signing the marriage license before she goes. She was whining so much I could not say no.” Carter raised his eyebrows. “What about your wedding?” “What is the rush?” Dennis brushed off the concern entirely. “The ceremony takes at least two hours. I will run down to City Hall. It will only take ten minutes. You know how Brianna is. If I do not go coax her right now, she will actually throw a crying fit at the airport.” Carter knew better than to argue with him. Dennis walked back over to me, casually wrapping an arm around my shoulders. He waved at the official wedding photographer. “Take a quick picture of us for the memories.” The shutter clicked once, and Dennis immediately checked his luxury watch. “Alright, that is enough for now. I have to leave, or I will miss my appointment.” He turned his back on me and started walking briskly toward his private SUV. “Dennis.” I stood perfectly still on the pavement and called his name. He paused, turning his head to look over his shoulder. His eyes still held that careless, arrogant certainty. “If you leave right now,” I said, enunciating every single word, “I am going to swap the groom.” He stared at me for a second before bursting into laughter. It was a mocking, dismissive sound. “Swap the groom? Where exactly are you going to find one? Do you think we are living in a soap opera?” “Everyone in this city knows you belong to me.” “But hey,” he added, pulling his car door open, “if you actually have the skills to find a man brave enough to marry you today, I will gladly give you my blessing.” He threw one last patronizing look my way. “Stop throwing tantrums, be a good girl, and wait for me inside. I know how to handle these girls on the side. I have limits.” The groomsmen standing behind him exchanged awkward glances. Carter took a few steps forward. “Dennis, are you seriously leaving?” “Just keep the guests entertained. It is not like I am disappearing forever.” Dennis slammed his car door shut. His voice was laced with impatience and eagerness. “That little girl is way too much trouble to pacify. I do not want a headache later.” The engine roared, and the SUV sped down the avenue, disappearing into the city traffic. I stood completely alone on the church steps. The wind caught the long train of my veil, whipping it through the air. The photographer lowered his camera, shifting his weight uncomfortably in the deafening silence. Nobody dared to speak. I looked down at the empty space on my left ring finger, and a slow, genuine smile spread across my face. Go ahead, Dennis. Go sign your little piece of paper. Because I am going to happily accept this multimillion-dollar wedding you left behind. I gathered the heavy fabric of my skirt and walked gracefully into the cathedral. The guests were seated, the priest was waiting at the altar, and the string quartet was already playing the bridal chorus. Everything was absolutely flawless. The only thing missing was the groom. Carter rushed up beside me, forcing a stiff, awkward smile onto his face. “Mona, Dennis had a tiny emergency. He will be right back. Why do you not just take a seat in the bridal suite for a bit?” Nate hurried over to back him up. “Exactly. You know Dennis always has his priorities straight. It is your big day. He will be here any minute.” “Yeah, Dennis never drops the ball when it matters.” They talked over each other, desperately trying to spin a runaway groom into a minor scheduling delay. I glanced up at the massive vintage clock near the stained glass window. It was twenty minutes to eleven. “Okay. I will wait for him.” I dismissed them with a calm nod. Carter let out a massive sigh of relief and immediately started ordering the catering staff to bring me water and appetizers. I was willing to wait. But nobody needed to know exactly who I was waiting for. This wedding had been hyped up in the media for three solid months. Every important relative and business partner from Dennis’s side was sitting in those pews. I let my eyes wander over the breathtaking details of the room. A cascading waterfall of white roses framed the massive windows. Curtains of crystal beads hung from the vaulted ceiling. Even the elegant calligraphy on the seating cards was custom-designed by an artist he hired from Paris. That was just who Dennis was. When he wanted to do something, he executed it to absolute perfection. He pursued me with that same intensity. He planned this wedding with that same intensity. And unfortunately, he committed treason with that exact same intensity. He left absolutely zero room for negotiation and zero room for an explanation. In his twisted mind, showering a woman with luxury and deeply betraying her were two completely separate things. He firmly believed that my only option was to accept whatever crumbs he handed me. Inside the bridal suite, my best friend Harper was pacing the floor in a blind rage. She had flown all the way from Monaco just to be my maid of honor. “Is Dennis completely out of his mind? Leaving his own wedding to sign papers with another woman? Did he suffer a traumatic brain injury?” She dropped onto the velvet sofa, violently tugging at the tulle of her bridesmaid dress. “I thought he was just making empty threats yesterday. Who actually does something this vile on the day of their wedding?” Her voice shook with a fiery mix of anger and heartbreak on my behalf. “When you two were planning this, he drove across the entire state just to find the exact species of flower you wanted for your bouquet. When you tried on your dress, he started crying before you even stepped off the pedestal.” “I was so jealous of the way he looked at you that I literally picked a fight with my own boyfriend.” Her voice cracked slightly. “Who could have ever predicted he would turn around and do something like this?” I stayed silent, casually scrolling through my phone. Brianna had just posted a new update on her social media feed. The photo showed a messy hotel floor littered with a man’s discarded dress shirt and a pile of sheer lingerie. The caption read: Someone promised he would only stay for ten minutes, but now he refuses to leave my bed. She made sure to tag her location. She was nowhere near City Hall. One of our mutual acquaintances left a comment: Brianna, who are you trying to piss off today? Brianna replied publicly: Whoever is standing around in a wedding dress waiting for a man who is never coming. I stared at the screen, completely devoid of emotion, and took a screenshot. “Mona, stop waiting for him.” Harper snatched the phone out of my hand. “Look at this garbage. Look at the kind of people they are.” “You gave up your life in London after graduation just to move back here for him. Do you know how furious your parents were?” “Dennis was an absolute nobody back then. You bet your entire future and ten years of your life against your parents, and now you have lost everything.” “You stayed up for countless nights drafting business proposals for him. You secretly used your status as a shipping magnate’s daughter to secure his funding. He would be nothing without you pushing his company to the top.” “And he repays you by sleeping with the daughter of one of his investors.” “He is a psychopath. He played the perfect, loving fiancé right up until the night before the wedding, just so he could blindside you in a hotel room.” Harper was crying now, wiping angry tears from her face. “Mona, please. Stop waiting for him. It is time you finally live for yourself.” “Harper, thank you for flying out today. As soon as this ceremony is over, I am going to go home and tell my parents that they won.” I was willing to accept the consequences of my lost bet. Today was the day I paid the price for my own blindness. After calming my best friend down, and finally making peace with myself, I walked out of the suite and headed toward the balcony at the end of the hall for some fresh air. Just as I reached for the brass handle, I heard men talking on the other side of the door. It was the groomsmen, hiding outside to smoke. “Is Dennis seriously not coming back?” “He said Brianna is practically glued to him. He cannot get away. He told us to just keep stalling.” Carter exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. “How much longer do you think Mona is going to tolerate this?” “Look at her today. She put on the dress, she walked the press line, her groom abandoned her, and she has not shed a single tear.” “A wife with that much patience is a rare find,” Nate sighed. “Dennis really does not know how lucky he is.” “Dennis does not care about luck right now. That little succubus has him completely mesmerized. The man has lost his mind.” The group erupted into quiet chuckles. Then, someone initiated a video call. “Dennis, you finally picked up. Mona is still waiting in the bridal suite. It is getting really ugly over here. You need to come back.” A heavy, suggestive rustling sound came through the phone’s speaker. “Can you not see that I am busy?” Dennis’s voice was rough, thick with impatience and the unmistakable gravel of lust. “I am not coming back. Just buy everyone a round of drinks and keep them seated.” “Alright, whatever you say, boss,” Carter chuckled nervously. “At least your bride is easy to manipulate.” Before he could finish his sentence, I pushed the heavy balcony door wide open. The smirks on their faces vanished instantly. Carter aggressively hid his phone behind his back. “Mona.” I looked at the group of men. “The wedding starts in exactly three minutes.”

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At our company retreat, the new intern Finn won the grand prize, a luxury Swiss watch, and whispers spread. Some called him lucky. Others wondered how someone with his background got hired here. There was talk that he had closed a key account in just a week and that a wealthy CEO girlfriend spoiled him endlessly. I stood by, stirring my drink, filled with bitterness. As a Stanford graduate and top performer, I kept missing promotions due to odd setbacks. I swallowed my pride each time because my bedridden girlfriend relied on me. Her care drained me financially, and I had even given up bonuses just to keep my job and insurance. Later, needing air, I stepped outside and saw Finn on the phone in the garden, beaming. “I only wished for that watch yesterday,” he laughed. “Did you set this up?” A woman’s voice, elegant and amused, came through the speaker: “Don’t be silly. You’re my little lucky star.” The tumbler I had won as a consolation prize fell from my hand and hit the ground with a clatter. I knew that voice. It was Diana’s. The same woman I bathed and turned every night in her hospital bed. 1 Before my brain could even process the sound, Finn ended the call. He turned around, saw me standing there, and scratched the back of his neck with a sheepish grin. “Oh, hey Jake. What are you doing out here?” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “Just getting some air. Wrapped up your call?” “Yeah.” He waved his phone, the tips of his ears turning a faint pink. “That was my girl. She insists I won the watch purely on luck, but I swear she secretly pulled some strings.” “Your girl… what exactly does she do?” He blinked, adopting a secretive little smirk. “She’s just a regular working-class girl, honestly.” “But I feel like she’s hiding something from me,” he continued. “Did you know this watch just hit the market? You can only get it at exclusive boutiques. I mentioned it to her exactly once. Isn’t that crazy?” He leaned in a little closer. “Jake, do you think all women like to play poor just to test their boyfriends?” A regular working-class girl. Playing poor. I thought about my actual poor girlfriend, and my mind completely blanked. A sudden, violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. I couldn’t breathe. Finn noticed my face draining of color. “Jake? Are you okay? You look like a ghost.” I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and forced another weak smile. “I’m fine. Just had a bit too much to drink. Feel a little sick.” He nodded, not prying further. He was too caught up in his own perfect world. “I really think she’s my personal wishing well,” he rambled on. “With my resume, I never should have gotten into this firm. I made one passing comment to her about applying, and the very next day HR sent me an offer.” “And get this. Even though she’s always stuck in the hospital, I told her last week I needed a new phone. The next morning, her driver dropped the latest model off at my front door.” I stared at his bright, beaming face, my ears ringing. The only word echoing in my skull was hospital. Something tight and painful twisted in my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking. “Wait. You said she’s in the hospital?” “Yeah.” Finn laughed lightly. “It’s nothing serious. Just a minor health thing.” A minor health thing. The air left my lungs in a quiet rush of relief. That didn’t match Diana’s severe spinal issues. Not even close. I gave a slow nod. “If she’s arranging all this for you from a hospital bed, she must really care about you.” “That’s what everyone says.” He rubbed the back of his neck again. “Anyway, I gotta run. My girl said she wants to celebrate tonight. See ya.” I stood frozen in the cool evening breeze. I looked at the multi-million dollar watch strapped to his healthy, youthful wrist. Then I looked down at my own hands. My lower back ached a dull, persistent pain from three years of lifting and turning Diana in her bed. I didn’t own a single decent accessory. The gap between two people’s lives could be an absolute abyss. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from Diana. [How was the retreat? Did you have fun?] I stared at the glowing screen. Out of pure habit, I typed a cheerful lie. [It was great. I even won a nice tumbler.] The truth was, everyone who didn’t win a real prize was handed a tumbler. [Well, at least you didn’t leave empty-handed. I’ll buy you something much better in the future.] The future. She had been feeding me that word for three years, and like a fool, I always swallowed it down. We were broke now, but the doctors said her condition was curable. She just needed two more years of intense rehabilitation. All I had to do was grit my teeth and push through. I locked my screen and headed toward the street to pick up the custom cake I had ordered. Another message popped up. [It’s getting late. Just go home and rest tonight. Don’t come all the way here, I don’t want you exhausting yourself.] I stared at the words, my thumb hovering over the glass. Today was my birthday. We had made plans an entire week ago. I was supposed to bring home a raffle prize as my own gift, buy a cake, and celebrate in her room. Did she forget? I hesitated for a long moment, but I still went to the bakery. I picked up the box, stood on the curb, and flagged down a cab. “Mercy General, please.” When I stepped off the elevator and approached the nurses’ station, the night-shift nurse glanced up. All the color instantly drained from her face. “M-Mr. Jake?” 2 She shot out of her chair so fast it nearly tipped over backward. “What are you doing here?” “Visiting hours,” I said simply. “It’s so late.” Her eyes darted nervously toward Room 606. Her voice was tight. “Diana is already asleep. Maybe you should come back tomorrow.” “It’s my birthday today.” I took two steps forward, my tone even. “It won’t mean anything if I wait until tomorrow.” She stepped out from behind the desk, physically blocking my path. I stared at her. My chest tightened. In three years, the staff had never once stopped me from walking into that room. “I’m just going to take a quick look.” I sidestepped her, walking straight down the hall, and pushed open the door to Room 606. I froze. The bed was perfectly made. Empty. The nurse ran in behind me, panting heavily. “Where is she?” I turned around, my eyes locking onto hers. She forced an agonizingly fake smile. “Diana had to… she had to go down for a late-night scan.” “A late-night scan?” I frowned, the unease in my gut twisting tighter. “A minute ago you said she was asleep. And since when does her treatment plan include midnight scans?” The nurse avoided my gaze, her fingers fidgeting. “I just remembered the schedule.” Before she could invent another excuse, my phone erupted in a violent vibration. It was my department director. A massive crisis with our current project. Everyone was ordered back to the office immediately. I closed my eyes. This project was tied to a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. I gritted my teeth, shoving the bakery box into the nurse’s hands. “Please. When she gets back, give this to her. Tell her she has to eat it. Inside there is…” I stopped myself. I didn’t finish the sentence. Inside that cake was a diamond ring. I had saved up three months of my salary to buy it. I wanted to propose to her on my birthday. I wanted to give her the security she always cried about lacking, to prove I would never abandon her. The baker had buried it deep in the sponge. Digging it out now would ruin the whole thing. An ordinary guy’s proposal didn’t need to be some grand spectacle. The intention was what mattered. The nurse looked overwhelmingly relieved to have me leaving. “Of course, Mr. Jake. I’ll make sure she eats it.” The second I rushed into the office, my director’s message popped up on my screen. “The rest of the team has kids and families to get home to, or they lack the technical skills. I need you to rewrite the entire proposal. Thanks for stepping up.” I let out a long, exhausted breath. It was always like this. Every single emergency, every impossible deadline fell squarely on my shoulders. Everyone else had a wife, a husband, kids, aging parents. And me? My parents passed away years ago, I had no kids, and my girlfriend was confined to a hospital bed. “Thanks for stepping up” was corporate code for “you have no life, so do the work.” And despite all this, I was the one constantly ending up on the chopping block during layoff season. I sank into my chair and started rewriting the data. I worked in a brutal, caffeine-fueled haze until three in the morning. Finally, my director sent a one-line reply. “Never mind, the client decided to go with the original version.” I stared at the blinding white screen. A bitter, hollow laugh escaped my lips. I pulled out my phone and sent Diana a text. [Emergency at work. Couldn’t make it. Please make sure you eat the cake.] My brain was entirely fried. I hit send, crossed my arms on my desk, and passed out right there. When dawn broke, the office slowly filled with the hum of arriving coworkers. I bolted upright and immediately checked my phone. No new messages. Not a single “Happy Birthday.” My heart sank like a stone. “Morning, Jake!” Finn dropped his designer leather bag onto the desk next to mine. “Everything get sorted with the project last night?” I blinked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. He was in a completely different division. How did he know about my project emergency? Before I could ask, a notification flashed across the company-wide chat. [Mandatory morning assembly. Attendance required.] My pulse jumped. A few days ago, the regional director pulled me into his office. He praised my numbers and heavily implied the open Vice President slot in Division One was practically mine. They were going to announce it today. “Another meeting.” Finn groaned, rolling his eyes as he headed for the door. He clapped me on the shoulder as he passed. “Let’s go, Jake. Better not be late.” I shook off my exhaustion and followed him into the conference room. The moment I stepped through the double doors, the atmosphere felt entirely wrong. “There he is,” someone whispered loudly. “You gotta feel bad for the guy. Working a corporate job all day and moonlighting as a male nurse all night. No wonder he looks half-dead.” “Milking the company for overtime pay isn’t enough, he has to work two jobs? Isn’t moonlighting a fireable offense here?” I frowned, my chest tightening. They were talking about me. 3 When the company did its last round of layoffs, I surrendered my right to overtime pay just to keep my position. Between my daytime hours and spending every night at the hospital caring for Diana, I barely had time to sleep. I definitely didn’t have time for a second job. The HR Director stepped up to the podium, tapping the microphone. He gave a brief corporate speech before pulling out the promotion list. I held my breath. For once, there were no data leaks, no client back-outs, no mysterious blunders attached to my name. I was finally going to get the title and the salary I bled for. Then the HR Director spoke, and his words hit me like a bucket of ice water. “The new Vice President of Division One is Finn!” The room fell dead silent for a second before polite, scattered applause broke out. Finn stood up, flashing a brilliant, humble smile as he bowed slightly to the room. “Why?” I shot up from my seat. My chair scraped violently across the hardwood floor. The HR Director pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his expression entirely devoid of sympathy. “Jake, do you have an issue with this decision?” He paused, likely realizing that ignoring my track record outright would look terrible. “You are a highly capable employee. On paper, you are more than qualified for the VP role. However, moonlighting as an outside caregiver violates your employment contract.” “I am not moonlighting,” I argued, my voice echoing in the quiet room. Before I could finish, the projector screen behind him flickered to life. It was a slideshow of photographs. Me, leaning over a hospital bed. Me, wiping a patient’s face with a warm towel. Me, massaging someone’s atrophied legs. They didn’t capture Diana’s face clearly, but the man doing the grueling, intimate work was undeniably me. The words died in my throat. When the assembly ended, the crowd filtered out in small, gossiping groups. Finn strolled over to me, lowering his voice to a sympathetic hum. “Jake, I’ve heard so much about you. Stanford grad, hardest worker in the building. Everyone knows you’re the absolute best.” He offered a soft, almost innocent smile. “Just yesterday, I was telling my girl how nice it would be to have the best employee in the company working under me. That way, I could sleep in a little later.” “And look at that. Today I’m the VP. I’m your boss.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Crazy coincidence, right? You think my girl set this up too?” I slowly raised my head to look at him. My eyes dragged away from my phone screen, where a new email from HR had just dropped. [Notice of Reassignment: North African Branch] It felt like someone had shoved a fistful of cotton down my windpipe. I couldn’t speak. I didn’t even wait for the clock to hit five. I walked out of the building, hailed a cab, and headed straight for Mercy General. All I could think about on the ride over was how I was going to explain this to Diana. The promotion I had promised her was gone. Instead, I had a one-way ticket to a developing country. I pushed open the door to Room 606. She was lying in bed, the white blanket pulled up to her chest. She looked mildly surprised to see me. “Jake? Isn’t it the middle of the workday? What are you doing here?” I didn’t say a word. “What’s wrong? Did someone give you a hard time?” She pushed herself up slightly, patting the edge of the mattress. “Come sit. I’m here. Who messed with you?” A sharp burn stung the back of my eyes. I was half a second away from telling her everything. That I was refusing the transfer. That I was going to quit and find something else. But I swallowed the words down. She was recovering. I couldn’t pile my failures onto her fragile health. “I took some time off. Just wanted to see you.” I pulled up a plastic chair and sat down, my eyes dropping to the blanket covering her motionless legs. “How are you feeling today?” “Alright.” She coughed softly. “Physical therapy was exhausting.” I nodded. My mind drifted to last night. To the cake. My gaze shifted to her right hand resting on the sheets. To her ring finger. My heart skipped a violent beat. She was wearing a ring. “Jake,” she murmured, reaching out to cup my hand. “You worked all night again, didn’t you? You sacrifice so much for me.” “When I’m completely better, I’ll never let you suffer like this again. You can do whatever you want. You won’t have to take orders from anyone.” She had recited that exact script for three years. And every time, it made the exhaustion feel worth it. Even though she hadn’t mentioned my birthday once. It didn’t matter. She was wearing the ring. That was all the answer I needed. “Yeah.” I nodded gently, my thumb brushing against the cool metal on her finger. I slowly turned the band around, my chest tight with emotion. “Diana, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you. Let’s get mar—” The words froze on my tongue. I stared at the jewelry. This wasn’t the ring I bought. “What is it?” she asked, sensing my sudden rigidity. I stood up so fast the chair wobbled. “Nothing. Nothing… I have to get back to the office. I only took a two-hour lunch.” She nodded and told me to be careful on the way back. I practically sprinted out of the hospital room. I closed the door, my ears buzzing with white noise. When it rains, it pours. My life was becoming a tragic comedy. The baker must have lost the ring I gave him and panicked, buying a cheap replica to hide in the cake instead. He had no idea what he had done. The ring I bought had the numbers “328” hand-engraved on the inner band. It was the date of our anniversary. It meant everything. Ten minutes into my cab ride back to the office, I reached into my pocket and realized my desk keys were missing. I had left them on the plastic chair in Diana’s room. I rubbed my temples. “Driver, turn around. Back to the hospital.” The cab idled outside the main entrance. I jogged up the stairs, navigating the familiar sterile corridors. I reached Room 606 and raised my hand to push the door. Voices drifted from the crack in the doorway. Voices that had no business being in a patient’s room. 4 I froze in my tracks. “Ms. Diana, everything you requested has been handled.” “Jake’s promotion was successfully intercepted. The VP title was given to Finn.” “You and Finn were out together yesterday and Jake nearly caught you. Thankfully, you know Jake’s habits perfectly. You had me watching him like a hawk. The second he showed up at the hospital, I had his director call him back to the office for emergency revisions.” “And just like the previous times, the leaked proposals, the clients backing out, the slashed budgets… all executed exactly to your orders.” “The goal remains the same. Ensure his bank account is drained perfectly to cover your ‘medical expenses.’ Make sure he never saves a single dime.” I stood in the hallway, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me. Ms. Diana? Intercepted? Never saves a single dime… I clenched my fists so hard my nails bit into my palms. I clamped my jaw shut to keep from making a sound. “That big project he just finished was supposed to carry a two-hundred-thousand-dollar bonus. I had HR freeze it. He’s only getting two thousand.” Silence stretched inside the room for a few agonizing seconds. Then, Diana’s voice cut through the air. It wasn’t weak. It wasn’t sick. It was cold, steady, and sharp. “Good.” “But, Ms. Diana,” Marcus, her assistant, sounded slightly hesitant. “How much longer do you plan on keeping up this act?” “With Jake’s resume and work ethic, if he were at any other firm, he’d be a senior executive by now. He genuinely thinks he’s just cursed with bad luck.” “But we both know there’s no curse. It’s just us, ruining his life behind the scenes.” “Honestly, the fact that he’s endured this for three years without breaking… his devotion is incredible.” Diana was quiet for a long moment before she replied with chilling indifference. “I originally planned to test him for two more years. See if he could survive five years of pressure.” “But Finn is young and naive. He just entered the corporate world, he needs guidance. I need to resume my actual identity as soon as possible.” Marcus probed gently, “And if Jake discovers that you are actually the CEO of the entire company?” “Didn’t I tell you to issue his transfer to the North African branch? Effective in twenty-four hours.” Her tone was casual, yet horribly confident. “The timeline is impossible. He refuses to leave my bedside, so there’s no way he’ll take the transfer. He’ll voluntarily resign to stay in the city. Once he’s out of the company, he’ll never figure out who I really am.” I stood outside the door. My blood ran like ice water through my veins. A moment later, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I opened the email from HR, typed a single sentence, and hit send. [I accept the transfer.] Inside the room, Diana leaned comfortably against her pillows. She stared down at the silver band resting on her ring finger. Marcus followed her gaze and asked carefully, “When you ordered me to buy an exact replica of the ring hidden inside the cake last night, do you think Jake noticed?” Diana didn’t answer. “Finn is so playful. He insisted on digging the ring out of the cake to play with it,” Marcus chose his words with extreme caution. “And then he accidentally dropped it down the toilet.” “But that ring… considering Jake hid it inside his own birthday cake, it must have meant the world to him…” “I know,” she cut him off sharply. She pulled the replica off her finger and tossed it onto the nightstand. “Now is not the time.” She picked up the set of keys resting on the chair. The keychain was a faded, scuffed little basketball. A gift she had given him the day they made things official. It was so worn the original colors were entirely gone. Careless man. He’d probably come rushing back for them soon. “You should leave before he sees you,” she told Marcus. “Understood… Oh, right, Ms. Diana.” Marcus paused at the door. “You feigned this illness for three years to lay low and force your cousin into a false sense of security.” “But he was arrested last month. Your exile is over. Eleanor expects you back at the family estate tomorrow.” “I know.” She worked on her laptop late into the night. When she finally rubbed her eyes and checked the time, she realized the owner of those keys had never returned. Frowning, she snapped a picture of the keychain and texted him. [Jake, I have your keys!] No response. She glanced out at the pitch-black sky, assuming he had passed out from exhaustion again. The next morning, she left the hospital early to attend high-level family meetings at her estate. By the time she returned to Room 606, it was three in the afternoon. She unlocked her phone. The chat history was dead silent. Not even a punctuation mark in reply. He had gone an entire twenty-four hours without checking in. That had never happened before. As she stared at the screen, her phone suddenly began ringing frantically. It was the Director of Operations. His voice was hoarse with panic. “Ms. Diana, it’s a disaster!” “Riots broke out in North Africa. A militant group bombed the branch headquarters.” “The employee who just transferred from New York… he was killed in the blast.” 5 Diana was silent for two excruciating seconds. Her voice came out as cold and rigid as steel. “Have the security division handle it. Issue the payouts. Manage the family’s grief.” “Yes, ma’am…” She hung up the phone before he could finish. “Diana!” Finn practically kicked the door open, strutting inside. He carried a heavy thermos, his face plastered with sheer triumph. “I got the VP spot! I made you some bone broth to celebrate. It’s supposed to be great for recovery.” Diana pressed the power button on her phone, tossing it onto the sheets. Finn set the thermos on the bedside table, laughing brightly. “I swear, everything I tell you comes true. The universe just loves me!” He unscrewed the lid, the smell of mediocre soup filling the room. “Try it. I spent all afternoon making this.” Diana took the bowl, took a small sip, and set it down. “It’s fine.” Finn looked at her, his eyes shining with adoration. “Then I’ll make it for you every single day. How does that sound?” Diana didn’t answer. It sounded awful. It tasted like dishwater compared to the meals Jake cooked for her. Over the years, Jake had completely ruined her palate for anything else. Even the Michelin-starred chefs her family employed couldn’t recreate the warmth in his cooking. “Oh, right,” Finn said, noticing her blank stare. “Didn’t you promise that once I got promoted, you had a massive secret to tell me?” Two sharp knocks interrupted them. Marcus stepped into the room holding a sleek leather folder. “Ms. Diana, the paperwork is finalized.” “Your discharge papers, along with the corporate press release, are ready. The board of directors has been notified of your official return.” Diana offered a faint, dismissive “Mhm.” Finn stood frozen, his eyes wide as saucers. “Diana… what did he just call you? Ms. Diana? Like… the CEO?” Marcus offered a thin, patronizing smile. “Finn, did you honestly believe a regular working-class girl would have a personal executive assistant?” “Ms. Diana is the Chief Executive Officer of this firm. She has merely been… on sabbatical these past few years.” Finn stared at the documents in Marcus’s hands. “So… the promotions, the transfers, me getting hired…” “All orchestrated by the CEO,” Marcus finished for her. Finn turned slowly to look at Diana, the tips of his ears burning bright red. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Diana’s tone remained flat. “I’m telling you now. Starting tomorrow, I am returning to the Manhattan office in my full capacity.” “Keep your head down and do the work. From now on, you’ll have to earn your keep.” Finn bit his lip, dropping his gaze to the floor. His fingers nervously twisted the hem of his designer shirt. After a long, suffocating silence, he asked in a small voice, “What about your boyfriend? Does he know?” Diana didn’t answer the question. She simply picked up the battered basketball keychain resting on the nightstand, her thumb brushing over the scuffed rubber. “He’s a sensible man. He’ll understand.” Finn nodded quietly. Once the room was empty, Diana picked up her phone. She opened her chat with Jake and typed out a message. [Jake, why are you ignoring me?] [The doctors said I’m practically fully recovered. I’m being discharged tomorrow.] She hit send and stared at the screen, waiting for the little typing bubble to appear. Waiting for the flood of joyful, relieved messages he always sent. Nothing. She tossed the phone back onto the table. He was probably just stressing over finding a new job. Trying to hide his unemployment from her so she wouldn’t worry. He had a terrible habit of carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders and smiling through it. Once he saw the text, he would be ecstatic. His one true dream in life was for her to walk again. He wanted them to sit in a bustling diner and eat a hot meal together. He wanted to walk through a grocery store without checking his watch. He wanted to hold her hand walking down the sidewalk like a normal couple.

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