Three years after breaking up with River Wright, I accidentally ran into him on a film set while working as a background extra. By then, he had already established himself as an elite, visionary director. The extras around me were whispering, gossiping about how the leading lady of this film was his girlfriend of three years, and that they were likely getting engaged soon. They looked at her with pure envy, talking about how lucky she was to lock down River, effectively securing her future as a permanent fixture in the untouchable Wright dynasty. Looking at the freezing, intimidating man surrounded by a massive entourage, I could barely recognize him as the same boy who used to squeeze into a cramped, miserable studio apartment with me to survive. While I was still lost in my memories, he suddenly stopped walking. He instructed his assistant to have the lead actress, Ashley Blair, step out because she was feeling unwell. He ordered them to use a stunt double for the upcoming water scene. Then, he casually lifted his eyes, carelessly pointing a single finger directly at me. When his gaze locked onto mine, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a provocative smirk. He asked if I had a problem with it. 1 An icy rain had just stopped, leaving the air biting and cold. I huddled within the crowd of extras, pulling my heavy cotton coat tight around myself. My friend, Maya, leaned in, barely suppressing her excitement. “Did you see Director Wright’s face when Ashley accidentally bumped into that prop?” She was a massive fan of the River and Ashley relationship, constantly obsessing over their every interaction. I gave a weak hum of agreement. I had been on set all night, taking the freezing wind directly to the face. Right now, I was shivering violently and just wanted to crawl into bed. Another extra next to us jumped into the conversation. “Ashley is so incredibly lucky. Three years ago she was a literal nobody playing nameless extras. Now she is a massive, A-list movie star.” “Well, look at Director Wright’s family. The Wright Entertainment Empire! Making someone a star is basically a hobby for them.” “Ashley really hit the jackpot. Marrying him and having the Wright family backing her? She is set for life.” Maya argued back, “What do you mean ‘hit the jackpot’?” “When Director Wright directed his first indie film, nobody had any idea he was the Wright heir. Everyone knows he had some desperate ex-girlfriend who dumped him because she thought he was broke and wanted to climb the social ladder.” “Honestly, thank god that girl was completely blind. She practically handed him over to Ashley.” Maya nudged me, looking for backup. “Right?” I gave another slow, exhausted hum. 2 When I was dating River. I had absolutely no idea he came from insane wealth. To be fair, he never mentioned it. But honestly, nobody looking at the sweet, exhausted, endlessly patient junior camera assistant he was back then would ever connect him to the billionaire heir of the Wright Entertainment Empire. And I certainly did not dump him to climb the social ladder. Because nobody climbs the social ladder just to end up as a nameless extra on their ex-boyfriend’s set. Maya cleared her throat, about to say something else, but suddenly froze. The normally terrifying Assistant Director was walking toward the extras’ rest area, leading a tall, imposing figure. River Wright had personally come to the extras’ holding area. They had been filming for a month, and this was the very first time. The AD glanced at his phone and whispered something. River replied dismissively. “Ashley is not feeling well. Let her rest in the trailer.” “Find a double for the water sequence.” Even though I was shrinking back and keeping my head down, I felt a stare lock onto me like a physical needle. “Use her.” River’s voice was quiet, but it carried an undeniable, absolute authority. My chest tightened violently. I slowly raised my head, locking eyes with River’s freezing, pitch-black gaze. Our eyes met. The corner of his lips curled up slightly, his brow arching in a silent challenge. “What? Do you have a problem with it?” His voice felt like it had been soaked in ice water. 3 My legs felt like lead as I followed the AD. The rigging crew was already waiting by the edge of the deep water tank. I gritted my teeth, fighting back violent waves of dizziness and shivering. Maybe because I looked genuinely sick, the usually brutal AD offered a rare word of comfort. “It is just a wide shot. Do not stress.” He gave my shoulder a quick squeeze. A PA suddenly yelled his name from a distance. “Director Wright needs you.” I turned my head. Through the chaos of the scrambling crew, I immediately spotted River. He was standing behind the monitor, arms crossed, his expression impatient and harsh. Everyone hovered around him like anxious satellites, waiting for his command. I snapped back to reality as the slate clapped and the AD yelled, “Action!” The wire violently yanked me up, suspending me high in the air. Below me was the freezing, pitch-black water. Memories I had desperately tried to bury suddenly surged to the surface. Splash— The freezing water slammed into me from all sides, crushing my chest. A delayed, violent panic hit me. I instinctively began thrashing. “Cut.” The crew dragged me out of the water, dragging my freezing body onto the concrete. In the chaos, a massive shadow fell over me. I struggled to look up, only seeing the sharp, merciless line of River’s jaw. A second later, his Adam’s apple bobbed. “Absolutely pathetic.” Because I had water in my ears, his voice was muffled, but the cruelty was unmistakable. “How does someone with zero talent and zero professionalism even get hired on my set?” He checked his expensive watch, tapping the glass as he spoke to the crew. “Dry her off. We are going again.” Over the roar of the industrial space heaters, I caught fragments of the crew whispering. “It is just a wide shot. You cannot even see her face. Why are we doing another take?” “…He is in a terrible mood… Ashley scraped her knee…” I lowered my eyes. I methodically wrung the freezing water out of my hair with a towel. I kept my mind completely blank. From the second I decided to return to acting, I had mentally prepared myself to endure absolutely anything. We shot the water plunge five times. River finally gave a tight nod of approval. The crew immediately scrambled to tear down the set, prep for the next location, and move on. The entire soundstage was a chaotic blur of noise and movement. I tried to move my limbs, slowly swimming toward the edge of the tank. But no matter how hard I tried, my completely frozen body just started dragging me down into the water. Until my consciousness finally slipped into absolute darkness. 4 When I woke up, I was lying in a strange, unfamiliar bedroom. The heavy blackout curtains were drawn shut. The room was dark and suffocating. It felt like a completely isolated island. A massive wave of pure panic crashed over me. I violently threw myself out of the bed. The sudden movement ripped the IV needle out of the back of my hand. Blood immediately started pouring down my skin. When the dizziness finally passed, I grabbed my phone, which was aggressively vibrating on the nightstand. A breaking news notification immediately popped up on the lock screen. [River Wright carries Ashley Blair off set! Actress posts a sweet photo confirming their happiness!] My hand shook. The screen automatically unlocked to a social media app. Half an hour ago, Ashley had posted two photos. One was a steaming bowl of ginger soup. The other was a dark, blurry shot of the water tank. The caption read: [The hardest scene is finally here! It is freezing outside, remember to drink your ginger soup. Feeling so warm and happy inside.] The comment section was split into a massive war. One side was aggressively defending the “carry,” claiming Ashley fainted from exhaustion and River rushed her to the medic. Another side was viciously attacking the production team and her manager, demanding to know why an A-list actress was forced to shoot a freezing water sequence for hours until she collapsed. Scattered in between were obsessive fans screaming about how perfect River and Ashley were together. Soon, the hashtag #AshleyBlairProfessionalism hit the number one trending spot. I glanced at it for a few seconds and closed the app. My head was still throbbing violently. It felt so heavy I thought if I tilted my neck, it would snap right off. As I slipped my shoes on, my brain finally processed something. I was wearing thick, dry, completely different clothes. Just as I started looking around for my soaked costume, the bedroom door opened. River walked in, holding a steaming bowl of ginger soup. “Looks like you are fine.” He casually set the bowl on the nightstand, staring at me with a dark, calculating intensity. The dim light cast heavy shadows across his face, hiding his expression. After a long pause, a mocking smirk curled his lips. “Lily Evans, look how pathetic you have become.” I let out a short, dry laugh. My throat felt like it was lined with broken glass, but I managed to speak. “Isn’t this entirely your fault?” 5 River’s face darkened instantly. I scanned the room again. Still no sign of my costume. Whatever. I didn’t care. It was just a shame about the money. The production company charged a two-hundred-dollar penalty for lost wardrobe. I tried to walk past River to leave. But he moved faster, suddenly closing the distance. With almost zero effort, he shoved my exhausted, weak body back down onto the bed, pinning me there. River grabbed my wrist with one hand, his eyes dropping to the bleeding puncture wound from the IV. The corner of his mouth twitched. His other hand grabbed my jaw, forcing me to look at him. “Still the exact same. Totally unreasonable.” His tone was intimate, almost teasing, with a faint smile playing on his lips. But his dark eyes were completely dead. There was absolutely zero warmth. I twisted my head violently, trying to escape his grip and the hot, suffocating breath hitting my face. River let me struggle, his grip like iron. “Three years ago, you vanished without a single word.” “When you did that, did you ever imagine this is how you would end up?” His thumb slowly traced the line of my brow. “Three years ago… did you act like this in his bed too?” A massive, overwhelming wave of pure humiliation crushed my chest. I didn’t even have time to feel angry. The blood pounded violently in my temples. My teeth started chattering uncontrollably, my entire body violently shaking. A flash of genuine regret crossed River’s eyes. “Sorry. I didn’t…” I snapped my head to the side, sinking my teeth violently into the hand pinning my face down. My mind went completely blank. I just bit down harder. And harder. The heavy, metallic taste of blood instantly flooded my mouth. River gritted his teeth, finally letting out a sharp hiss of pain. His face twisted as he struggled to maintain control. Right at that exact second, there was a soft knock on the door. “River? Are you in there?” Ashley’s voice was hesitant and probing. 6 I ran out of the hotel. Standing under a pitch-black, suffocating sky, I felt completely lost. Someone gently tugged on my sleeve. It was a group of extremely young, panicked-looking girls. The girl leading them looked at me nervously. “Miss, are you crew for The Emerald Cage?” She pointed at the production logo printed on my jacket, her voice frantic. “Do you know how Ashley is doing? Is she okay?” They told me they were Ashley’s super-fans. When they saw the news that she fainted, they panicked, paid off a scalper, and snuck onto the lot. Their faces were pale with genuine fear and concern for their idol. “She is fine,” I rasped, my throat burning. “You guys need to go home. This area is restricted, and it is not safe for you to be out here in the dark.” As they turned to leave, one girl who had been standing quietly in the back hesitated, her voice trembling. “Lily Evans? Is that you?” When she saw me freeze, her face lit up. “It is you!” “I used to watch your shows and movies! I loved your acting so much!” “When you quit the industry, there was absolutely no news about you. I was so worried about you.” “Are you ever going to come back to acting?” I never imagined that, in this miserable, humiliating moment, I would hear someone say they loved me and loved my work. The sheer shock of it hit me like a physical blow. My nose burned. My throat completely locked up. I could only manage a single, heavy nod. “I will.” The girl stepped forward and wrapped her arms around me in a tight, gentle hug. “I never believed a single word of those tabloid rumors,” she whispered in my ear. “Keep fighting!” She gave me a bright smile and ran off to catch up with her friends. I watched her until she disappeared into the dark. Only then did I look down. My tears hit the concrete, shattering into tiny, dark flowers. Three years ago, the tabloids exploded with a story that “manipulative D-list actress Lily Evans” slept with a billionaire heir to secure a role. The photos they leaked showed me practically unconscious, hanging off a man as we stumbled into a hotel room, and later leaving with my clothes completely disheveled. The entire internet ripped me apart, using the most vile, toxic language imaginable to destroy me. Even just ten minutes ago. The man who used to love me used the exact same rumors to degrade me. But this stranger? She looked me in the eye and said she believed me. 7 The production provided a cheap, rundown dorm for the background extras. When I walked in, Maya was just climbing down from her top bunk. “You are finally back.” She aggressively ushered me to sit down, grabbing pillows for my back and pouring me a glass of hot water. “Even if River is obsessed with protecting Ashley, what he did today was completely psychotic.” Her eyebrows were twisted in a tight, angry knot. “You were the one who went into the freezing water. You were the one who passed out. But the second Ashley posts a picture, the entire internet is praising her dedication!” She cursed a few more times, then suddenly shot me a very strange, calculating look. “By the way… the AD told me to tell you that Director Wright was extremely impressed by your raw talent today. He said you have great instincts, and he is writing a specific speaking role just for you.” I gave a weak, exhausted nod. My head was pounding so hard it felt like a construction crew was operating inside my skull. I dry-swallowed two painkillers and collapsed onto the thin mattress. Just as I was slipping into unconsciousness, my phone vibrated. It was a text from my mom. [Transferred some money to your account. Please don’t starve yourself.] Her profile picture was a screenshot of a character I played years ago. A photo of twenty-two-year-old Lily Evans. Arrogant, confident, and utterly fearless. The words on the screen blurred into a watery mess. Tears leaked from the corners of my eyes, tangling into my hair, making my scalp itch. It felt just like the day before I left home to return to the city. Resting my head on her lap, she gently stroked my hair, her voice thick with helpless love. “I don’t care about anything else. I am just terrified you are going to get hurt. I am terrified you are going to be miserable.” “But I know you. Once you make a choice, you will smash your head against a brick wall before you ever turn back. You will walk this path no matter what.” “Whenever you get too tired, just come home. Do not torture yourself for nothing.” I didn’t reply. I honestly didn’t know what to say. As I closed the chat app, a tiny red dot suddenly appeared on my contacts tab. Under the [New Friends] requests, there was a blank profile with the username “M.” I locked my phone screen. Rolling over, I sank back into the dark.

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The day I interviewed at Lumina Dynamics, their Director of Technology tore my resume to pieces in front of everyone. He sneered, asking what gave someone from a diploma mill the right to even be here, and told me to get the hell out. The other interviewers around him erupted in laughter. I didn’t react. I just calmly bent down and picked up the scattered pieces, one by one. I looked up at him, a small smile playing on my lips. “Very well, Marcus,” I told him. “In half an hour, you will receive a formal email from Vanguard Corp terminating all of our contracts with your company.” He laughed even harder, mocking me. “Who the hell do you think you are, daydreaming in my office?” Exactly thirty minutes later, the CEO of Lumina Dynamics burst into the interview room, his face pale with panic. He slapped the still-clueless tech director across the face, his voice cracking with rage. “You absolute moron! Do you have any idea whose resume you just ripped to shreds?” 1 The sweltering air in Lumina Dynamics’ interview room 203 was a solid, suffocating thing, like a cheap sponge soaked in filth, refusing to yield a single drop of fresh oxygen. I was dressed for this undercover mission in a carefully chosen white shirt and a pair of faded jeans. No makeup, and my hair was pulled back in the most unremarkable ponytail imaginable. To them, I looked like any other recent graduate, anxious and uncertain about the future. Across from me sat the company’s Director of Technology, Marcus. He was a man in his forties, his hair shellacked with too much gel, gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Behind a pair of gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes sized me up like a piece of cheap merchandise. He pinched my forged resume between his fingers. His crudely manicured nail scraped impatiently across the words “Oakwood Community College,” making a grating sound. “Oakwood Community College… What the hell is that? Some diploma mill next to a strip club?” His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp and dripping with undisguised contempt. The other interviewers beside him exchanged knowing glances, smirks they couldn’t quite suppress. They were like a pack of Roman patricians watching a spectacle, and I was the lowly gladiator about to be thrown to the lions. I remained silent, watching him as if he were the star of some terrible, low-budget play that had nothing to do with me. My silence seemed to infuriate him. He’d probably expected me to tremble with fear, to wither under the weight of his authority. He shot to his feet, holding the single sheet of paper in front of my face. With a sharp, violent rip, he tore my “resume” in half. And then again. The pieces rained down like toxic confetti, landing around my sneakers. “Does a piece of trash from a worthless school like this really think she can interview here?” He was practically spitting as he spoke. “Listen here, little girl. Lumina only hires the best, from the Ivy League! Someone like you isn’t even qualified to get us coffee. Now take your garbage and get the hell out!” The laughter, no longer restrained, exploded in the small room. One of the female interviewers even covered her mouth in an exaggerated gasp, shooting Marcus a fawning look. “You’ve got a sharp eye, Marcus,” she cooed. “These desperate wannabes trying to sneak into big companies need to be put in their place.” The humiliation was meant to be a thousand tiny needles, piercing my composure. But I felt nothing. It was all just… absurdly comical. This was the core supplier Vanguard Corp paid seven million dollars a year? This was the ace director in charge of our most sensitive technical integration? The management was a chaotic mess, rife with nepotism, rotten to its core. The risk of a data leak was a hundred times more severe than even Mr. Sinclair had predicted. I bent down. Under their mocking gazes, I slowly, deliberately, picked up every single piece of my “humiliation.” Then I straightened up, walked to the polished mahogany table, and placed the fragments gently on its gleaming surface. I lifted my eyes to meet Marcus’s, his face twisted with arrogance, and offered him a slight smile. “Very well, Marcus.” My voice was quiet, but it had a strange, cutting quality that silenced the room. “In half an hour, you’ll be receiving a formal email from Vanguard Corp’s legal department. It will inform you that every single one of our contracts with this company is terminated.” After a moment of dead silence, Marcus erupted as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. He laughed so hard his greasy glasses nearly slid off his nose. “Vanguard Corp? Hahaha! Who the hell do you think you are? Some community college idiot, coming to my turf to daydream?” He pointed a finger at me, then turned to the others. “Can you believe this? I call out her bullshit and she completely loses it. Starts spouting absolute nonsense.” The others joined in his laughter, though it was a little weaker this time, tinged with an uncertainty my words had planted. I didn’t spare the clowns another glance. I turned and pulled open the door. The fluorescent lights in the hallway were harsh. I took out my phone and dialed a number on my speed dial. He picked up on the first ring. “Victoria, how did it go?” Mr. Sinclair’s deep, steady voice came through the line. I leaned against the cool wall, gazing out at the gray city skyline. My tone was as flat as if I were deciding on a salad for lunch. “Mr. Sinclair, about that seven-million-dollar annual renewal with Lumina… I don’t think we’ll be needing it.” “Their people just tore up my resume. In front of a room full of their staff.” The line was silent for three full seconds. Then, Mr. Sinclair’s voice returned, low and laced with a terrifying, controlled fury. “I understand. Handle it your way. The firm’s legal and marketing departments are on standby.” After hanging up, I didn’t leave. I waited. I waited for the devastating email to reach its destination. I waited for the C4 I had just planted to detonate inside this seemingly solid corporate tower. Less than twenty minutes later, a frantic, chaotic pounding of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall, accompanied by a man’s panicked, voice-cracking shriek. “Marcus! Where is that goddamn idiot?!” I watched with detached amusement as a man with a severely receding hairline, his bespoke suit soaked through with cold sweat, practically sprinted toward me. It was Lumina’s CEO, Arthur Carlson. I’d seen his picture at a few annual supplier summits. His personal assistant trailed behind him, her face just as pale, nearly tripping in her high heels. Arthur spotted me leaning against the wall, and the color drained from his face. He looked like he’d just seen a ghost. He practically threw himself in my direction, screeching to a halt a few feet away, heaving for breath, his chest rising and falling violently. Before I could say a word, he had already stormed into interview room 203. The next sound was a slap so sharp and loud it seemed to echo through the entire floor. It was followed by Arthur’s furious, near-hysterical roar. “You brainless idiot! Do you have any idea whose resume you just ripped to shreds?!” I strolled back to the doorway, leaning lazily against the frame to enjoy the magnificent chaos unfolding within. Marcus was clutching his rapidly swelling face, his gold-rimmed glasses knocked clear across the room. He was completely stunned. “Mr. Carlson… I… she was just some fraud…” Arthur spun around like a cornered lion. But the moment his eyes landed on me, he instantly deflated into a trembling quail. He bowed deeply, his voice shaking like a leaf in a storm. “Ms. Victoria! A misunderstanding! This is a terrible, terrible misunderstanding! I was blind, my people are incompetent, please, I beg you, don’t take it to heart!” Marcus was dumbfounded. He pointed at me, then looked at his groveling boss, stammering, “What’s going on? Who the hell is she?” As if his tail had been stepped on, Arthur whirled back around and kicked Marcus squarely in the kneecap. “Who is she?!” he screamed. “She’s our biggest client! She’s Vanguard Corp’s Chief Marketing Officer, Victoria! That seven-million-dollar contract? It was her signature on the bottom line!” A bomb had just gone off in the room. The interviewers who had been laughing so freely just moments ago were now chalk-white, their throats so tight they looked like they’d forgotten how to breathe. Their gazes darted between my simple white shirt and the pile of shredded paper from the “diploma mill,” their eyes filled with a mixture of raw terror and utter disbelief. I stepped into the room, took the last piece of the resume I’d been holding, and gently placed it on top of the messy pile. My eyes were like arctic ice as I scanned each of their faces, finally landing on Arthur, who was shaking uncontrollably. “Mr. Carlson, is this how you screen your talent?” “Is this the kind of man you have managing our highest-level technical integration?” Every word was a frozen dagger plunging into his heart. Sweat poured down Arthur’s forehead in rivers, dripping onto the carpet. He grabbed Marcus by his silk tie, his spit flying. “Marcus! You’re fired! Effective immediately! Get your shit and get out of this building! Now!” I watched the pathetic display, a cold, mocking smile on my lips. “Fired?” “Do you really think firing one useless employee is enough to compensate for the insult he paid to me, and to all of Vanguard Corp?” I took out my phone, opened my email, and turned the screen toward him. The harshly worded “Notice of Contract Termination,” drafted by Vanguard’s top legal team, glowed on the screen. “The termination notice has been sent. A formal letter from our lawyers will be delivered to your desk shortly.” Arthur stared at the screen, his legs giving out from under him. He collapsed onto the expensive Persian rug, his eyes vacant. “It’s over,” he muttered, his voice hollow with despair. “It’s all over.” I didn’t waste another look on the pathetic man. I turned and walked away, my steps crisp and decisive. At the door, I paused. Without looking back, I delivered one last line that sent him plunging into an icy abyss. “Mr. Carlson, this is only the beginning.” 2 Returning to my penthouse office in Vanguard Corp’s Manhattan headquarters was like stepping out of a filthy, oppressive bog and back into my absolute kingdom. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city skyline glittered, a forest of steel and glass exuding a cold, arrogant light. The air inside was perfectly climate-controlled, scented with my favorite white tea aromatherapy. Mr. Sinclair had already prepared a pot of impossibly rare Darjeeling tea. The rising steam softened the features of his face, a face weathered by decades of navigating the brutal seas of commerce. “You’re back. I’m sorry you had to go through that.” He pushed a cup of the amber liquid toward me. His tone held none of the coldness of a chairman, only the warmth and concern of a mentor. I shook my head, lifting the delicate bone china. Its warmth spread through my fingertips, chasing away the last of the cheap chill I’d picked up at Lumina. “It was nothing.” I took a small sip and looked at the man across from me. “The fish is even dumber and more vicious than I imagined. Lumina’s management is rotten from the top down.” This “undercover” operation had been a top-secret directive from Sinclair himself. For the past six months, the technical specs for several of Vanguard’s flagship products were being precisely countered by our arch-rival, OmniCore, just before launch. We had run countless internal audits, scoured our firewalls, and reviewed every NDA until our eyes bled, but we couldn’t find a single leak. The only remaining suspect was our core component supplier: Lumina Dynamics. But we had no hard evidence. In this world, moving without proof would only spook our prey. So, I’d orchestrated this little drama, disguising myself as a nobody applicant to get a feel for Lumina’s internal culture. I just never expected them to rip off their own mask for me before I even had a chance to start probing. I set down my cup and gave my boss my assessment. “This Marcus guy is arrogant and stupid. He doesn’t have the brains to be the mastermind behind a sophisticated corporate espionage plot. At his level, he’s a gofer at best—a dog let off its leash to bark at the door. There’s a much bigger fish hiding behind him.” A chilling glint flashed in Mr. Sinclair’s deep-set eyes. He nodded slowly. “Do what you need to do. The entire firm’s resources are at your disposal.” His tone shifted, taking on the unique ruthlessness of a top-tier capitalist. “Besides, it’s high time we cleaned up this supply chain. A company with no respect for its clients doesn’t deserve to survive.” With the chairman’s blessing, there was nothing left to hold me back. I returned to my desk, opened a secure channel, and convened an emergency video conference with the heads of Legal and Marketing. My orders, delivered over an encrypted network, were precise and lethal. “Legal, I want every contract we’ve had with Lumina for the past five years. I want you to go through them with a goddamn magnifying glass and find every single breach. Delivery delays, defect rates, spec failures—anything and everything.” On the screen, the head of Legal pushed up his glasses, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Leave it to me, Victoria. There are enough penalty clauses in these old contracts to strip them bare.” I smiled, satisfied. “Once you have the evidence, prepare to file a lawsuit. I want maximum punitive damages. I want them to vomit up every last cent they’ve ever earned from us, with interest.” I then turned my attention to the Director of Marketing. “Marketing, activate Plan B. Contact our backup suppliers and open top-priority negotiations. I want a new letter of intent on my desk within three days.” I slowed my speech, adding weight to my next words. “And I want you to let Wall Street Journal and a few of the tech blogs in the Valley know, ‘accidentally on purpose,’ that we’ve dropped Lumina from our core supply chain due to ‘gross misconduct and extreme managerial incompetence.’” The marketing director grinned, giving me a thumbs-up. “Understood. The leak will be very… ‘accidental.’” The meeting ended. A series of fatal blows was already hurtling toward the enemy. I leaned back in my leather chair, waiting for the market to deliver its verdict. It didn’t take long. My phone began vibrating incessantly on the desk. Real-time updates from my team. “Victoria, Lumina’s pre-market stock is starting to dip.” “Boss, three of their downstream partners are blowing up our PR lines, trying to figure out what’s going on.” “It’s already hitting the tech forums. The story is trending.” Meanwhile, Arthur’s calls came in one after another, like a death knell. I glanced at the flashing name on the screen and hit decline every time. His text messages flooded my inbox, a pathetic cascade of begging. “Ms. Victoria, for the love of God, please give me another chance!” “We’ve worked together for so many years! Think of our history!” “Victoria! Don’t push us too far! If you back us into a corner, we’ll drag you down with us! It won’t be good for anyone!” “I was wrong. I admit it. Just name your price. I’ll do anything!” I watched the progression from threats to groveling, a cold smile touching my lips. I sent a single, two-word reply. “Just wait.” Just then, an unknown number called. I swiped to answer. Marcus’s voice, rabid and unhinged, exploded from the speaker. “So you’re Victoria, huh? You think ruining my career is the end of this? I’ve got connections, you bitch! I’ll make sure you can never work in this town again!” He continued spewing a torrent of filth, polluting the air with his vulgarity. I didn’t even bother to grant him a response. I just ended the call and blocked the number. The ravings of a mad dog on its way to the slaughterhouse weren’t worth a single second of my time. But his words—“I’ve got connections”—only confirmed it. The trap I’d set was working. Marcus, you stupid dog. You’re about to lead your real master right to my door. 3 Things escalated faster than I’d anticipated, and with a decidedly dramatic flair. The next morning, I got a call from the front desk. Arthur was in the lobby of the Vanguard tower, surrounded by gift boxes of premium cigars and rare liquors, begging to see me. I flipped through the morning paper, speaking coolly into the receiver. “Tell security I’m busy. And tell him to get lost.” After being unceremoniously denied entry, Arthur seemed to have a complete breakdown. He sent me a long, encrypted message that confirmed all my suspicions. “Victoria, I’m begging you! I can’t fire Marcus. He’s my brother-in-law Derek’s man. Derek is the Executive VP, he runs the entire R&D division. Marcus is his right hand. My hands are tied!” Derek. The CEO’s brother-in-law, Lumina’s Executive VP. The real snake, hidden in the weeds, had finally shown its head. Just as I was about to deploy my team to dig into Derek’s background, a vicious, targeted smear campaign against me and Vanguard Corp erupted online. Several third-rate tech gossip sites, known for their sensationalist clickbait, suddenly published a coordinated series of articles with inflammatory headlines. Tech Giant’s ‘She-Devil’ Exec Abuses Power to Crush Supplier! The Seven-Million-Dollar Bully: How a Community College Grad’s Rejection Sparked Corporate Warfare. Annihilated by Arrogance: Is Big Capital the Final Nail in the Coffin for Small Tech? In these articles, I was painted as a petty, vindictive monster who had slept her way to the top. And Marcus, the arrogant fool, was recast as a tragic hero who stood up for his principles, only to be ruthlessly crushed by a corporate tyrant. The most malicious twist was the claim that my entire interview was a setup. They accused me of being a corporate spy sent by Vanguard to steal Lumina’s “proprietary technology.” The internet, as it does, went wild. Keyboard warriors who cared nothing for the truth, only for a chance to tear down the successful, flooded the comment sections with venom. “This Victoria chick sounds like a total psycho. Ruining a company because some HR guy told the truth?” “This is how corporate giants like Vanguard operate? Disgusting. Boycott them!” “The articles are right. She was totally a spy. What kind of exec fakes a resume to go to an interview?” Inside Lumina, the anonymous employee forums exploded. Derek seized the opportunity. In an emergency all-hands meeting, he fanned the flames, telling the tech teams that Vanguard was trying to steal their hard work before casting them aside like trash. He cleverly reframed my personal retaliation as a David-and-Goliath class struggle, positioning himself as the valiant savior protecting Lumina’s employees from the evil corporate empire. The crisis had escalated into all-out war. Just as the online furor reached its peak, my secure burner phone buzzed with a self-destructing encrypted message. It was from an unknown number. “Ms. Victoria, my name is Noah. I was the intern taking notes at your interview. Derek is in the VP’s office shredding files and deleting data from the core servers. He’s ordered IT to physically reformat the hard drives of several key computers. Something felt wrong, so I secretly copied down the asset tags and last-user logs for those machines.” Noah. I instantly pictured a young, clean-cut face with bright, clear eyes. During the interview, while everyone else was laughing and sucking up to their boss, he had been the only one whose face was a tight mask of disgust. When Marcus was verbally assaulting me, I’d caught a glimpse of Noah out of the corner of my eye. His brow was furrowed, his hands clenched into fists beneath the table. I had made a mental note then: this kid was different from the rest of the rot in that room. My fingers flew across the keypad. “Stay safe. Do not expose yourself or do anything to arouse suspicion. Send me everything you have. Try to recall any file names or timestamps you can.” “Will do. Please, find the truth.” A moment later, Noah’s data came through. I stared at the string of asset numbers. The user with the highest-level access on one of the wiped machines was listed as: Derek. I leaned back in my chair and let out a soft, cold laugh. Oh, Derek. You’re even dumber than I thought. You’re practically screaming your guilt from the rooftops. The very evidence you’re so desperately trying to destroy is the key that will lock you in a federal prison cell. He was stoking a firestorm of public outrage to create a smokescreen, all while frantically trying to cover his tracks. It was the move of a man utterly terrified of being caught. I was now certain of it. This rat was already lining up his next gig, ready to grab the cash and run. I immediately encrypted the data and forwarded it to my top cybersecurity team with orders to prepare their most advanced data recovery tools. Then I stood up and walked into Mr. Sinclair’s office. “The fish has taken the bait. It’s time to reel him in.” For the first time, a slow, cold smile spread across my face. Derek, by trying to bury the evidence, you’ve just shown me exactly where to dig. This is where the real game begins.

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1 Drifting between life and death, I finally understood. I could hear my wife, Seraphina, and her lover, Rick, clearly now. Rick was growing impatient. He wanted to know when she’d tell me our son wasn’t actually missing. He couldn’t wait to see the look on my face. But Sera just laughed. There was no hurry, she said. It was my fault for making her get rid of the baby years ago. This was my punishment. She’d tell me the truth once she decided I’d learned my lesson. So that was it. Four years of living hell—not a tragedy, but a sentence. A spectral tear fell. She’d gotten exactly what she wanted. It started four years ago. I’d stepped out of the car for a minute during an argument. When I returned, our son was gone. From then on, I lost my mind. I searched like a man possessed, drowning in guilt every waking moment. Her mother blamed me endlessly. My own mother cried herself to sleep each night. Sera would scream at me, telling me to die, swearing she’d divorce me if I didn’t find our boy. For four years, I gave up everything—my career, my life, my sanity. I chased 99 false leads across the country, each one carving away another piece of me. My body became a map of self-inflicted scars. Depression consumed me whole. On the 100th lead, something inside me snapped. I couldn’t go on. I swallowed a full bottle of sleeping pills. I died in my son’s nursery, wanting to be close to him in the end. Seraphina opened the bedroom door, saw I wasn’t there, and assumed I hadn’t come home yet. She turned, pulling Rick with her, and they fell onto our bed. Her voice was casual. “He probably fell for another scam artist. God knows what ditch he’s ended up in this time.” Rick roared with laughter. “It wouldn’t be the first time. I’ve never seen anyone so gullible. He believes anything anyone tells him.” “Remember that time he ran off into the mountains? Nearly didn’t make it back. When the cops found him, his clothes were torn and he was waving a knife around like a lunatic. There were three guys on the ground… who knows what happened there.” At that, the temperature around Seraphina dropped. She shoved him away. Rick knew he’d said the wrong thing. He quickly wrapped his arms around her neck, kissing her skin. “Sorry, Sera. I won’t talk about it. It’s been so long…” She flipped him onto his back, a wicked smile playing on her lips. “Don’t think for a second I’m jealous. I just can’t stand how pathetic he is.” “If he had just learned to look the other way back then, I never would have left him.” “But he has a man’s blood on his hands. He deserves every bit of this. He has no one to blame but himself.” With that, their clothes scattered to the floor. On the bed where we had made love countless times, their bodies tangled together in a desperate heat. I thought death was supposed to be the end of pain, but my heart felt like it was being pierced by a thousand needles. I remembered it so clearly. She was the one on her knees, clinging to me. “Finn, please don’t leave me. I was drunk, I thought he was you. I’ll get rid of the baby, I swear. Just believe me.” But I couldn’t forgive her. I insisted on a divorce. She went insane, dragging Rick in front of me to apologize. Then she went and had the abortion herself. My resolve crumbled. After months of torment, I forgave her. And my reward was being played for a fool for four years. Their moans echoed through the house until the dead of night. Finally, breathless, Seraphina seemed to remember me. She frowned, looking toward the front door. “Where the hell is Finn? Not even a text to say he’s not coming home.” She picked up her phone and called me. After a few seconds of silence, my phone began to ring, its shrill tone cutting through the house. Seraphina froze, her head snapping toward the nursery. A flicker of malicious glee crossed Rick’s face, hidden behind a mask of pretend concern. “When did Finn get back? You think he heard us?” Seraphina threw on her clothes and stormed toward the nursery. I floated behind them, watching her hesitate, her hand hovering over the doorknob. Finally, with a creak, she pushed it open and walked to the bed. I was curled up under the covers. Her face flushed with anger. She thought I was ignoring her on purpose. “Finn, if you know, then there’s no point in hiding it anymore.” “Yes, I took Max. But you were the one who was wrong first.” She glanced at me, her voice flat. “As long as you don’t make trouble, we can keep living like this.” The silence stretched on for a full minute. Her expression soured. She let out a cold, sharp laugh. “You’re going to play dead with me? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep it up!” I watched her rage, her curses washing over me. I felt nothing. I was almost curious to see the look on her face when she finally realized. She slammed the door on her way out. But a few minutes later, she returned, holding the hand of a four-year-old boy. My eyes flew open. It was him. It was my son, Max. He had my eyes. Tears streamed from my spectral form. I rushed forward to hold him, only to pass right through his small body. Seraphina’s voice was triumphant as she pushed him onto the bed. “I left him with my mother. He’s back now. Are you happy?” Then, she and Rick left again. That monster. That absolute monster! Leaving a child this small alone! In the pitch-black room, Max began to cry, his small sobs echoing in the silence. My heart shattered. I tried to comfort him, my voice a useless whisper. “Max, don’t cry, Max. Daddy’s here…” But I was the fool. The living can’t hear the dead. Max curled up next to my body, eventually crying himself to sleep. I watched him, my soul aching with a love so fierce it was agony. He had to be so scared, so hungry. Even in sleep, his face was a mask of pain. I stayed by his side all night. The next morning, he sat up, rubbing his eyes. His small voice was filled with panic. “Grandma? Where are you? Max is hungry…” He looked at the unmoving lump of my body beside him. After a moment’s hesitation, he whispered, “Mister? Can you get up and find Max something to eat?” “Max is a good boy. Just a little bit is okay.” After a long silence, he slid off the bed, his shoulders slumped. He picked up a small bottle from the floor. My soul screamed. It was the bottle of sleeping pills. There were still a few left inside. My heart leaped into my throat. Max’s face lit up. “Candy!” He shook a few pills into his palm, then glanced back at my body. “I’ll only eat three, mister,” he bargained. “I’m so, so hungry.” He raised his hand to his mouth. “NO!” I shrieked, a useless, silent sound, rushing to stop him, but I was nothing but air. The door flew open with a bang. It was Seraphina. She saw what Max was doing and her eyes widened in horror. She lunged forward, jamming her fingers into his mouth. “Spit it out! Spit it out right now!” Max started wailing, terrified. “Don’t hit me! I won’t do it again, Mommy, I promise!” Only when she was sure his mouth was empty did the color return to her face. She looked at me, her eyes filled with disgust. Before she could speak, Rick pointed an accusing finger. “Finn, what the hell is wrong with you? He’s just a kid! You could have killed him.” “I know you’re pissed that Sera took him, but you can’t take it out on Max!” He spat his venom at me, and Seraphina just stood there, watching. If they had just looked closer, they would have seen the waxy, yellow pallor of my skin, the faint, sweet smell of decay. But my last hope was misplaced. After a few minutes, she picked up Max and walked out. She took him to get lunch, but her mind was elsewhere. She checked her phone. It had been nearly two days since we had last spoken. A strange anxiety began to creep in. I never gave her the silent treatment. I had told her once, “If there’s a problem, let’s face it head-on. Don’t run from it.” Even when I’d caught her cheating, as broken as I was, I hadn’t backed down. A sudden, jarring thought hit her. Maybe something had actually happened to me. She shot to her feet, muttering to herself. “Something’s not right. This isn’t like him.” She turned to rush home, but Rick’s voice stopped her. “I saw Finn get up to eat yesterday.” Seraphina paused, turning back slowly. “He got up yesterday?” Rick nodded, a sheepish look on his face. “Yeah. I tried to talk to him, but he just told me to get lost…” Seraphina’s face hardened into a mask of pure contempt. She laughed twice, a harsh, grating sound, and sat back down. “I knew it. He was faking it. All that crap about loving his son was an act. He almost got Max killed!” I floated above them, a bitter laugh escaping my spectral lips. I wasn’t faking it. I was really dead. I looked at the triumphant smirk on Rick’s face and wondered if he’d still be smiling when the truth finally came out. I drifted back to the house and kept watch over my own body for a few more hours. My phone rang again. It was my mother. She must have known something was wrong when I hadn’t messaged her for two days. She called three times. Then, silence. Less than half an hour later, she was at the door, breathless and terrified. She rushed straight to the master bedroom. “Finn? Finn!” Not finding me, she checked the guest room, and finally, the nursery. “AH! FINN!” Her scream tore through the quiet afternoon. I couldn’t bear to watch what came next. My mother’s sobs were a physical force, shaking the whole house as she rocked my lifeless body. “How could you leave me all alone! How am I supposed to live now!” A few hours later, she took me away. When the door opened again, it was Seraphina, reeking of alcohol. She pushed Rick away and stumbled toward the nursery. “Finn, you son of a bitch, how long are you going to play dead?!” She stopped short. The bed was empty. I was gone. Her heart gave a painful lurch. A cold smile spread across her face. “Couldn’t keep up the act, huh? Decided to run away from home? Fine! Get the hell out and don’t ever come back.” She collapsed onto the living room sofa. Rick wrinkled his nose in disgust. “He could have at least cleaned up before he left. The whole place stinks. It’s making me sick.” Seraphina didn’t seem to hear him. A thought occurred to her. She went to our bedroom and yanked open the closet. All of my clothes were still there. She breathed a sigh of relief. “I thought he had some nerve. Didn’t even pack a bag. He just wants me to come begging for him to come back. Ha. In his dreams.” Her mind at ease, she even had Rick move in. “Since he doesn’t want this life, let’s see how long he can last without it.” I watched it all, a ghost in my own home. For the next few days, Seraphina partied, dragging Rick to every social event she could. But she wasn’t happy. A dark cloud seemed to hang over her, growing heavier each day. Finally, on the seventh day of my disappearance, she broke. She brought Max back to the house. She opened my messaging app and ordered Max to record a voice note. Max, terrified, wouldn’t speak. Her face darkened. “Say it!” she roared. “Are you deaf? I told you to call for your daddy! Do you hear me?!” The boy’s fear peaked, and he burst into tears. Rage consumed me. I wanted to tear her limb from limb. He was just a child. She would do anything to torment me. “Daddy… Daddy, Daddy…” She got what she wanted and sent the voice note. Finn, do you even want your son anymore? What kind of father lets him cry like this? Rick came over and put his arms around her. “Don’t be angry, Sera. If he’s going to be like this, why do you even care? The man doesn’t deserve to be a father.” Seraphina was silent for a long time, staring at her phone, which remained silent. She couldn’t take it anymore. She called me. Once. Twice. Three times. Nothing. With a crash, she threw her phone against the wall. Rick was stunned. He couldn’t understand why she was so furious. “Sera, the kid’s right here… don’t get so worked up. We can just get a divorce. It’s not worth it.” The word “divorce” seemed to stab her. Her eyes turned red. She started to laugh. “A divorce? And let him off that easy?” She took a deep breath, picked up the shattered phone, and dialed my mother. After a long series of rings, my mother answered on the last one. Before she could speak, Seraphina blurted out, “Mom, where is Finn? I need to talk to him.” My mother’s voice was a raw rasp, each word scraped from her throat. “You will never see him again in this life, you monster. I hope you’re satisfied.” Seraphina froze. Before she could ask what she meant, the line went dead. Her face flushed with rage. She cursed, then typed a furious message to my dead number. Finn, you want out? Fine. I’ll give you what you want. Get your ass back here and I’ll give you a goddamn divorce! Still no reply. Hearing the word “divorce,” Rick’s face lit up. He rushed to the bedroom to find the paperwork. But when he came back out, Seraphina was grabbing the still-sobbing Max and storming out the door. “Sera, where are you going?! Sera!” She peeled out of the driveway without a backward glance. I floated into the back seat with Max, my soul consumed by hatred. You bitch, where are you going in such a rush? You don’t care if you crash, but what about my son?! I soon saw her destination. She stood on my mother’s doorstep, panting, and began to hammer on the door. “Finn, open the door! I know you’re in there! Stop being a coward! Say what you have to say to my face!” With a slow creak, the door opened. Seraphina’s angry expression hadn’t had time to fade before it froze, replaced by a look of sheer, uncomprehending horror.

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1 The system had made me a promise: complete the mission, and the man I loved would live again. For that promise, I poured every ounce of my heart into the dark, twisted soul of Orion, the villain of this world. I endured ninety-nine deaths without ever flinching. But on my one-hundredth life, to please the woman he worshipped, he threw me to a psychopath. “You can’t die anyway,” he’d said, his voice casual. “As long as it makes Serena happy, I don’t even mind marrying you.” He would never know the system’s hidden rule: if I completed all one hundred attempts, my love would be revived, no matter the outcome. And as of this moment, I was about to vanish from his world forever, without a trace. … [Host has died 99 times. Hidden reward unlocked. Upon 100th death triggered by the target, reward will be automatically disbursed: Resurrection of Noah.] I opened my eyes to the cold floor, the large pool of blood around me already dry and cracked. I had come to this world to win over Orion, all to bring back my love, Noah. I was an orphan, adrift in a world that never wanted me. It was Noah who pulled me from the darkness. So when the system told me I could resurrect him by capturing Orion’s heart, I agreed without a second’s hesitation. I gave Orion everything. Even as he tortured me, I showed him nothing but unwavering devotion. He knew I was a player in this game, that I would be reborn after every death. He used that knowledge to inflict every cruelty imaginable, showing me no mercy. On my ninety-ninth life, he took me to a fashion show for Serena, his untouchable goddess. As he watched her on the runway, his eyes full of adoration, he humiliated me, treating me like a dog at his feet. I sat there in silence, enduring it all, refusing to leave his side. Halfway through the show, the ceiling collapsed. Shards of glittering glass rained down. Without thinking, I threw myself over Orion, letting the glass pierce my body. He shoved me off and ran—not to me, but to Serena, who stood untouched a few feet away. No one noticed me as the venue emptied. With a shard of glass buried deep in my heart, I welcomed my ninety-ninth death. It was alright. After this rebirth, I only had to die one more time, and I would have Noah back. I had barely staggered to my feet when Orion’s call came through. “Are you up? Serena and I are at City Center Hospital. Make some soup and bring it over. Now.” His voice was laced with impatience, as if every word spoken to me was an agony. The fact that I had just died for him didn’t move him in the slightest. I dragged my broken body home. Without even changing my blood-soaked clothes, I started making the soup. He was always like this, demanding that the food be made by my hand. If he found a single flaw, he’d throw the entire container, soup and all, in my face. In my sixty-seventh life, he’d scalded my face so badly it left a permanent scar. He just laughed. “What do you care? You’ll just die and reset anyway.” When I arrived at the hospital, carrying the thermos, Orion was gently tending to Serena as she lay in bed. He scowled the moment he saw me. “You didn’t even change? What if you bring germs in here?” Serena patted his hand softly, then gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Aurora. Orion is just worried about me.” 2 On the surface, she was defending me. But her eyes held a clear, sharp glint of mockery. Orion took the thermos, ladled out a spoonful of soup, blew on it, and brought it to Serena’s lips. She had barely swallowed when she began to cough violently. Orion panicked, patting her back frantically until her coughing subsided. Her eyes, misty with tears, drifted to the thermos. “I’m… allergic to lemon.” I stood frozen, watching her. I knew her dietary restrictions better than her own doctor. But if she decided, in this exact moment, that she was allergic to lemon, there was nothing I could do. Orion spun around, his face a mask of fury. He snatched the thermos and flung the scalding soup into my face. “Are you trying to kill her? Is that your plan? You think if Serena’s gone, you can take her place?” The heat was searing, as if it were peeling my skin away. I bit my lip, fighting back the agony, and whispered a single, slow word. “Sorry.” It didn’t matter what I said. He would never believe me. Better to just let him be the cause of my final death so I could go home. Serena watched my humiliation with a triumphant glint in her eyes before her expression melted back into one of tearful fragility. She tugged on Orion’s sleeve. “Orion, stop. Aurora didn’t mean it.” He shot me one last cold glare. “Clean it up.” I knelt, my hands stinging as shards of glass from the shattered thermos cut into my palms. I cleaned up the mess with my bare hands, as if I couldn’t feel the pain. For some reason, this seemed to agitate Orion even more. He yanked me roughly to my feet. “Can’t you use a broom? Who are you trying to play the victim for?” He shoved me aside and called for a janitor. Serena watched us, a deep frown creasing her brow, before she deftly changed the subject. “Orion, darling, you haven’t told Aurora about the dress for the exhibition yet, have you?” Orion glanced at me, his voice flat. “Serena needs a hand-stitched silk gown for next month’s gala. You’ll make it for her.” I had learned the art of intricate silk embroidery from a master artisan. It was a delicate, beautiful craft, but it was excruciating for the eyes. In my forty-sixth life, I’d worked day and night on a piece for him, all because of an offhand joke he’d made. That time, I had died from pure exhaustion, my vision permanently damaged upon revival. The doctors had warned me against any work that strained my eyes. Orion knew this. He just didn’t care. I looked at him, my eyes filled with nothing but pure, unadulterated love. “Of course. I’ll do it.” He seemed taken aback, almost flustered by the intensity of my gaze. He looked away awkwardly. “After you finish Serena’s dress… I’ll take you abroad to see a specialist.” “It’s okay, Orion. I would do anything for you. You don’t have to feel guilty.” He stared into my eyes, and for the first time, a flicker of something—emotion, perhaps—stirred in their cold depths. But I didn’t have time to care about whether he’d fix my eyes. Once I left this world, none of it would matter. Orion’s lips parted as if he were about to say more, but Serena cried out, clutching her head. “Orion…” He spun back to her instantly, forgetting I was even in the room. I had no interest in staying anyway. I returned to my small apartment and began to work. 3 If I was lucky, I’d die from exhaustion, just like last time. I couldn’t wait to see Noah again. I had been away from him for far, far too long. The embroidery required absolute concentration. A single misplaced stitch could ruin the entire piece. The design for Serena’s gown was incredibly complex, and I worked almost without sleep. My eyes were webbed with crimson threads of exhaustion. A dull throb started behind my temples. The world swam before my eyes, and I fainted, not even noticing the name “Orion” lighting up my phone screen. In my dream, a large, warm hand touched my forehead. I thought I had died, that I was finally back in my own world. I opened my eyes, my voice choked with joy. “Noah!” But the eyes I met were not Noah’s. They were Orion’s, narrowed and dangerous. “Noah. Who is that?” His grip on my wrist tightened. He repeated the question, his voice low and menacing. “Who is Noah?” I didn’t know what to say. I scrambled for a lie. “He was… a celebrity I used to have a crush on. I was dreaming about him.” It was a pathetic excuse, but after a few seconds of tense silence, he seemed to buy it. After all, my love for him was absolute. I had died for him ninety-nine times. How could I possibly have anyone else in my heart? “You certainly have time for fantasies.” He released my wrist, his expression turning cold again. The sharp click of high heels echoed from the doorway. It was Serena. She froze when she saw me with Orion. “Aurora, Orion told me you fainted working on the dress. I came as soon as I heard. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault.” She looked down, feigning guilt. Orion immediately jumped to her defense. “It has nothing to do with you. Aurora agreed to do it. She has to finish what she starts.” His tone was mocking, cruel. “After all, her pathetic life is meant to be in service to you. If I told her to die, she’d probably do it without a second thought.” His words meant nothing to me, but I had to play my part. I looked at him, my expression a mask of heartbreak and forced resignation. “Yes, Orion. I would do anything you ask. I came to this world for you.” His pupils dilated. He looked almost… panicked. He grabbed Serena and pulled her from the room, tossing a final command over his shoulder. “Just get the dress done. You don’t have to kill yourself over it.” That was new. He had never cared about my life before. I shook my head, pushing the thought away. I had to die, and soon. And I knew Serena would give me the opportunity I needed. She projected an image of angelic purity, but underneath she was venomous and selfish. She claimed she only wanted to be like a sister to Orion, but she ruthlessly destroyed anyone who got close to him. When I stood up, I realized I was on Orion’s private yacht. I walked out onto the deck. In the distance, Orion and his friends were having a party. I stood at the prow, staring at the moon, the ache for Noah growing deeper with every passing second. “There you are, Aurora.” Serena approached, a glass of champagne in her hand, a sweet smile on her face. It was a smile full of malice. “Your little tricks seem to be working. Orion’s been so much softer on you lately. But it’s a waste of time. You’ll never take him from me. Do you really think he could ever love you? With a snap of my fingers, he’d toss you aside without a second thought.” She slowly backed toward the railing, a wicked grin spreading across her face. “Aurora, what do you think he would do if he knew you pushed me overboard out of jealousy? Do you think he’d tear you limb from limb?” Before I could react, she let out a piercing scream and threw herself over the side and into the dark water. Orion was there in an instant. He dove into the sea without hesitation. A lifeboat was lowered, and soon they were both back on deck. Serena slowly came to, clutching Orion’s sleeve, her face streaked with tears. “Orion, don’t blame Aurora… she just loves you so much… I can understand. It’s all my fault.” Every eye on the yacht turned to me. “I always thought Aurora was a pathetic lapdog, but it turns out she’s a vicious one.” “She pushed Serena overboard? Everyone knows Serena is the center of Orion’s universe.” “Who the hell does Aurora think she is?” Orion’s gaze, dark and murderous, fell on me. I knew that look. It was the look he always had right before he killed me. He had two of his men drag me to a ten-foot-tall glass water tank on the deck. I can’t swim. I thrashed wildly as they threw me in. Orion looked at me as if I were already dead. “Who gave you the right to touch Serena? It seems I’ve been too lenient with you.” The foul water filled my nose and mouth. My survival instinct kicked in, and I fought my way toward the surface, but he ordered his men to keep adding more water. Laughter echoed around me, a distorted, buzzing sound in my ears. That’s right. This was it. This was my purpose. Once I died, I would see Noah. I stopped fighting. My body sank to the bottom of the tank. Orion saw my stillness and assumed it was another act. “Stop pretending, Aurora. You think this will make me let you go?” “Aurora? Aurora!” I didn’t move. “AURORA! Drain the tank! Now!” I dreamed of a life where the car crash never happened. A life where Noah and I got married, had a child. A perfect, simple life. I woke up to find Orion staring down at me, his eyes a mixture of worry and forced indifference. I looked away, a wave of disappointment washing over me. I wasn’t dead yet. “Such a clever little game, Aurora. Push Serena into the sea, then pretend to drown yourself. Were you hoping I’d feel sorry for you?” “No, Orion. I just… didn’t know what else to do.” My weak, breathless state, in his eyes, was just proof of how hopelessly I loved him. “Serena is willing to forgive you. On one condition. She’s funding a psychological experiment. They need a subject to spend one day alone in a room with a… psychopath. Don’t worry, it’s all perfectly safe. You’ll be fine.” When I didn’t answer, he frowned. “You harmed Serena—” “I’ll do it, Orion. For you, I’ll do anything.” From the moment I met him, this was the role I played. A woman so gentle, so devoted, that he was my entire world. He never believed it, so he hurt me again and again, and I just kept coming back, determined to prove my love. He reached out and gently touched my cheek. “I promise you. After this, we’ll get married.” I lowered my head and nodded. I already knew how I would die this time. And there would be no one to stop me. I entered the room. Outside, a team of researchers monitored everything. I gave Orion one last smile and stepped inside. For some reason, a sharp pain lanced through his heart. He had a sudden, overwhelming urge to stop me. But then he looked at Serena, and he hardened his resolve. It was fine. It would all be over soon. He would marry me. He would make it up to me. After all this time, he was finally realizing that a life with me… might actually be a good thing. Inside, I played along for a few hours, dodging the deranged man’s attacks to avoid suspicion. Finally, he cornered me. As the ax swung toward my head, I didn’t flinch. I smiled and met it head-on. Blood pooled on the floor. [Ding! 100th death recorded. Reward disbursed. Host is now being transported back to the real world!] “AURORA!” In my final moment, I saw Orion burst into the room, his face a mask of horror as he ran toward my body. But this time, there was no one left to answer him.

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1 My life was shattered the afternoon my parents came home three years ago, an android boy in tow. I, who had once been the apple of their eye, became the family’s resident “troublemaker” overnight. Dad always said I was more trouble than I was worth. Mom constantly compared me to Jett, the new android, my supposed younger brother. Even my sister, Isabelle, who I’d always been close to, would sneer, “What can you do besides fight me for attention?” The dam of my resentment finally broke. In a fit of rage, I shoved Jett to the ground. Mom’s face turned to stone. A sharp crack echoed through the room as her palm connected with my cheek. “He’s your brother!” she screamed. “If you were half as obedient as him, you wouldn’t be such a constant headache!” After that, I was forcibly sent to the Meridian Institute for Behavioral Correction. They called it “learning to be a good son,” a pretty lie for what it really was: a trade. They had swapped me for Jett. And today, after three long years, my family had finally come to get me. They stood at the institute’s gates, calling my name over and over, but I remained rooted to my spot, unresponsive. The director, seeing their confusion, smiled and explained to my mother, “Mrs. Evans, you have to say ‘Activate.’ Unit 1314 will not respond otherwise.” … “Activate, Unit 1314.” Mom’s voice trembled as she said it. She wasn’t sure what she was saying; she was just repeating the director’s words. My eyes lit up, like a long-dormant screen flickering to life. I rose from my chair, my posture ramrod straight, my hands hanging loosely at my sides. “Activated. Awaiting command.” Mom stared, stunned. The director’s voice chimed in from behind her. “Mrs. Evans, to better facilitate our students’ education, we’ve designed a proprietary system. The student can only be awakened by an activation command. With this, he will never disobey you.” Understanding dawned on Mom’s face. My sister, Isabelle, pushed her way to the front, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’s five years older than me and always took pleasure in making me cry. Back then, whenever she succeeded, I’d chase her around the house until Mom yelled at both of us. “1314, bark like a dog for me.” At the command, I hunched over, stuck out my tongue, and let out a series of loud, sharp barks. Izzy burst out laughing. “Wow, Nell really has learned his lesson,” she said to our parents. “He used to whine for half an hour when we asked him to practice the piano. Now he’s so obedient, he’ll even bark on command.” Mom and Dad nodded, their eyes holding a clear glint of satisfaction with my performance. On the way home, Mom tried to make small talk. “Nell, how were your three years at the institute?” I didn’t answer. She hadn’t ordered me to. “Nell?” she said, her voice louder this time. My voice was a flat monotone, like a text-to-speech program. “Interrogative statements are not valid commands. If you require a response, please use the imperative form.” The air in the car went still. Mom’s voice caught in her throat. After a long moment, she managed, “Answer me.” “My time at the institute was fulfilling and meaningful. I completed the three core curricula: Emotional Control, Absolute Obedience, and Rational Thought. My graduation assessment was ‘Excellent,’ with the instructor’s evaluation noting me as ‘the most successful rehabilitation case of the year.’” I recited the lines verbatim, my tone devoid of any inflection, as if reading from a user manual. The back seat was silent for a long time. Then, Izzy muttered, “He sounds just like… Jett.” I kept my eyes fixed forward, my face a blank mask. The city blurred past the car window. The skyscrapers, the overpasses, the billboards—they were all different from what I remembered. At the institute, time wasn’t measured in days or months, but in commands. A day was no different from a month. The only way I could mark the passage of time was by scratching hash marks into the wall of the silence chamber. Eventually, I even forgot how to do that. By the time the car pulled into our driveway, dusk was settling. Jett was standing at the door, hands clasped in front of him, a perfect smile on his face—calibrated to reveal exactly six teeth. He looked exactly the same as he did three years ago. I remembered that day. Mom had knelt down to speak to him, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Welcome home, Jett.” I had jumped off the sofa, eager to see my new brother, but my foot caught on something and I went sprawling. No one helped me up. They just said I was being clumsy. After that, everyone started to hate me. I wasn’t as obedient as Jett, not as thoughtful as Jett… In the end, I was the one sent away. “Welcome home, brother.” Jett’s voice was as sweet as ever. I didn’t reply. He hadn’t given the command to. Mom frowned. “You still don’t like Jett? It looks like you haven’t learned anything. Speak!” At her command, a smile instantly appeared on my face. “Acknowledged. Thank you.” Jett’s own smile never wavered, and Mom nodded, satisfied. At dinner, the family sat around the table. Jett was on Mom’s right, Izzy on Dad’s left. I was at the very end. The steam rising from my bowl carried the scent of rice, but my stomach felt nothing. At the institute, eating was defined as an “energy replenishment activity.” It had nothing to do with pleasure, nothing to do with hunger. “Let’s eat,” Mom said casually. I picked up my chopsticks at once. Rice, braised pork, green peppers… Seeing me eat the peppers, Izzy’s eyes widened. “Well, look at that. You eat green peppers now? Weren’t you the pickiest eater in the world?” I didn’t answer. I just took another bite of the peppers. The instructor had said preferences were “emotional residue,” a sign of incomplete rehabilitation. During my third month, I was locked in the silence chamber for two full days for refusing to eat green peppers. No light, no sound, no stimulation. Just darkness. When I got out, I ate the green peppers. Then the carrots, the onions, the bitter melon. I ate everything I used to refuse to touch. Mom nodded approvingly. She always liked a child who wasn’t a picky eater. Next, I reached for the peanuts. I put one in my mouth, chewed fifteen times, and swallowed. Dad’s eyes went wide. “He ate a peanut?” “Isn’t Nell allergic to peanuts? He ate one when he was little and his mouth swelled up like a sausage! We had to rush him to the ER!” Izzy put down her chopsticks, her voice filled with disbelief. “Can the institute cure allergies too?” I chewed silently, saying nothing. At the institute, you weren’t allowed to have allergies. The instructor had smeared peanut butter directly onto my arm. The skin would blister, rot, and peel, then heal, then rot again, but the allergic reaction never truly went away. A shiver ran through me. My throat began to tighten, an itch spreading across my skin. Angry red hives erupted on my face. Izzy frowned. “His face is getting red.” Mom leaned in for a closer look, her expression changing to one of horror. “That’s not a blush, that’s a reaction. Nell, stop eating! Don’t you know you’re allergic to peanuts?” My chopsticks froze in mid-air. I looked up at her, my eyes empty of emotion, my voice as steady as a recording. “Is that a command?” Mom froze for a second, but I was already struggling to breathe. Jett’s crisp voice cut through the panic. “Patient is experiencing an anaphylactic reaction. Respiratory distress is moderate. Approximately twenty-three percent of the skin is covered in hives. Recommend immediate administration of anti-allergy medication.” They snapped into action, fumbling to give me the medicine. After my breathing returned to normal, a heavy silence fell over the living room. Izzy’s voice came from the sofa. “Something’s wrong with him.” “He used to cry and throw tantrums. He wasn’t like this. He’s like… he’s like Jett!” I said nothing. She hadn’t given me the command to speak. “Can’t you just be normal?” Her voice suddenly rose to a shriek. “Stop acting like Jett! We wanted an obedient brother, not another robot!” I looked at her face. It was contorted with anger and frustration. “Please define ‘normal,’” I said flatly. The color drained from Izzy’s face. Mom and Dad looked horrified. Dad picked up the phone and called the institute. The person on the other end explained that this was a normal side effect of “deep behavioral conditioning” and that I would return to my old self in a few days. “Unit 1314 is our top student. He’s more obedient than any AI. Don’t worry, this is all part of the process.” Dad hung up and relayed the message. Mom nodded. They both seemed relieved. In the days that followed, I became the most useful tool in the house. When Mom told me to do the dishes, I cleaned them more thoroughly than Jett ever had. When Dad told me to move the planters, I moved every single one by myself. When Izzy told me to fetch her packages, I ran faster than a dog. “Nell is even more useful than Jett now,” Mom said with a laugh. Everyone agreed. Until the night Izzy forgot to deactivate me. Everyone else was asleep. I sat on the living room sofa, from dusk until dawn. When Mom came downstairs the next morning, she found me sitting in the exact same position. Her face went white. The coffee cup slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor. A woman in a white coat came to the house. She introduced herself as Dr. Wallace, a psychologist. Her voice was gentle. “Hello, Nell.” I said nothing. Mom wrung her hands nervously beside me. “You have to give him a command. He won’t speak otherwise.” Dr. Wallace gave my mother a sharp, disapproving look before turning back to me. “Tell me your name.” She used the imperative form. “Unit 1314.” Dr. Wallace’s pen paused on her notepad. “What about your real name?” “Nell Evans. But that is a former designation. Institute protocol requires graduated students to use their unit number as their official identifier.” Dr. Wallace was stunned into silence. The faces of my family members turned grim. They retreated into the study, speaking in hushed tones about things I couldn’t understand. “Post-traumatic stress… depersonalization… requires long-term therapy…” After that, things at home became strange. They started treating me with a delicate, cautious air. On Jett’s birthday, they made a difficult decision. They were sending him away. This would be his last birthday with us. The living room was filled with balloons, a two-tiered cake sitting on the table. Jett walked over to me, his smile as gentle as ever. “Happy birthday, brother.” My eyes blinked. A wire deep inside my brain felt like it had just loosened. Today was my birthday, too. No one remembered. Three years ago, on this very day, I was shoved into a car and sent to the institute. As they took me away, I cried and begged Mom to let me have a piece of my birthday cake first. She told me I could have cake when I came back, after I’d learned to be a good boy. I had learned. But the cake never came. Jett suddenly smiled. “Brother, the definition of ‘normal’ is pushing away people you don’t like. Push me. Just like you did three years ago.” I stared at him. The gentle look was gone from his eyes, replaced by a strange, flickering light. But he had given me a definition of ‘normal.’ I placed my hand on his shoulder. Before I could even push, he threw himself backwards, collapsing like a porcelain doll designed to break. The living room door swung open. Izzy stood there, holding a plate of fruit. “Nell! What are you doing?” she screamed. The fruit platter crashed to the floor. Jett sat on the ground, his eyes welling up with simulated tears. “Brother, why did you push me? I thought you didn’t hate me anymore.” He was lying. I knew he was. His tears were a program, his trembling generated by an algorithm. Mom rushed over, her expression shifting from shock to fury in a matter of seconds. “What did you do? Why did you push Jett?” “He told me to.” “You’re lying!” Jett sobbed. “Why would I ask you to push me? I just wanted to wish my brother a happy birthday…” Izzy knelt and helped Jett up, her movements delicate, as if handling fragile glass. She looked up at me, her eyes filled with bitter disappointment. “You haven’t changed at all. You spend three years at that place, come back pretending to be so obedient, and then you show your true colors the first chance you get. I knew it. A leopard can’t change its spots. He’s always been like this, jealous of Jett.” Mom’s eyes were red, not with sympathy for me, but with rage. “And we were just talking about being better to you. I was regretting sending you to that place. We were trying to figure out how to make it up to you.” She stepped closer, jabbing a finger into my chest. “And for what? You haven’t changed. You’re still the same malicious kid. You still can’t stand Jett. You put on an act for all this time and fooled every single one of us.” I opened my mouth, wanting to say it wasn’t an act, that the institute had done this to me. That they had sent me there. But I couldn’t. There was no command. “Speak!” Mom roared. “I have not received a command to ‘speak.’” Mom’s face flushed a deep crimson. Behind her, Jett sobbed softly in her arms. “He should just die,” Izzy said suddenly. The room went silent for a beat. “What did you say?” Dad asked, frowning. Izzy’s voice was so loud it seemed to rattle the windows. “I said, he should die! He’s so obedient, right? He follows every command, right? Then tell him to die! If he died, at least we’d have some peace!” The moment she finished, Jett collapsed. His body convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and foam frothed at his lips. “Jett! Jett, what’s wrong?” Mom shrieked. She cradled his head while Dad tried to revive him. Izzy was on the phone, screaming for an ambulance. They were all crowded around him. No one was looking at me. I stood in the middle of the room, watching them. No one looked at me. “Command received. Terminate.” No one heard me. They were all too busy, their faces etched with panic and fear for Jett. I slowly turned and walked towards the balcony. The night wind whipped in, cold and sharp. “Nell!” Izzy saw me first. Her shriek was shrill, the phone slipping from her hand and clattering to the floor. Mom’s head snapped around, the color draining from her face. “Nell! What are you doing?” I smiled at her, and without a moment’s hesitation, I carried out the command.

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1 The day my grandson was admitted, I jolted awake—back before it all fell apart. My daughter-in-law, Evelyn, died in the line of duty when Toby was just one. My son, Daniel, and I raised him. He was our whole world. Just before the holiday, I’d arranged for a specialist to do Toby’s surgery. I personally handed the doctor ninety-nine thousand dollars. But that night, Daniel’s voice thundered over the phone: “Dad! Toby’s surgery is tomorrow—why haven’t you paid?!” I didn’t question how the money disappeared. I just wired it again. The next day, the hospital still claimed they hadn’t received payment and were canceling the surgery. Sweating, I pulled the doctor to the billing office. The clerk showed my balance: zero. The specialist scowled. “If you don’t want the surgery, just say so. Don’t waste my time.” Terrified of delaying Toby’s care, I withdrew cash that evening and delivered it myself. But it was too late. The next day, my grandson died because his surgery was postponed. Daniel clutched Toby’s cold little body, sobbing, “Dad, did you hate him that much?” That night, my son set a fire and burned us all alive. Even as the flames took me, I still didn’t understand why the hospital never got my money. … “Grandpa, will the surgery hurt?” A gentle touch on my leg brought me back. I looked down at my grandson’s pale little face and pulled him into a hug, hot tears streaming down my cheeks. He was so small. How could he have died on that cold hospital bed? My mind raced. Why did the money I gave the hospital vanish into thin air? I had checked the card myself. With that thought, I grabbed my son and marched him to the nearest ATM. I confirmed the card held over $100,000 for the treatment. Only then did I feel a sliver of relief. Together, we went to the billing office and handed the card to the clerk on duty. “We’ve paid the fee,” I said, my voice trembling with hope. “Does this mean he can have the surgery tomorrow?” I watched with my own eyes as the clerk processed the payment. A wave of relief washed over me. “Thank God. My grandson is going to be okay.” Daniel wrapped his arms around me. “Dad, thank goodness you’re here.” Toby had a rare disease, and our only hope was a consulting surgeon from Chicago. She was a kind woman who refused any extra payment, only urging me to settle the hospital fees quickly. I just never understood why, in my past life, there was never any record of my payment, letting my grandson’s life slip away. This time, I wouldn’t let history repeat itself. I sent Daniel home to rest and stayed at the hospital by Toby’s side. The next morning, I woke to my phone ringing. It was Daniel, his voice frantic. “Dad, there’s no money on your card! The hospital just called and said I need to pay immediately. If we don’t pay soon, they’re going to cancel his spot!” For a moment, I thought I was mishearing him, trapped in a nightmare. How could the same thing be happening all over again? Before I could hang up, a doctor walked into the room. “You need to go pay the fee now, or it will be too late for the surgery.” I didn’t have time to think. I bolted for the billing office. But when the clerk pulled up my account, the balance was zero. Impossible. Daniel and I had just checked it yesterday! I made the clerk print out the account statement, checking it word by word. It was correct. There was just no money. “There’s something shady going on in this hospital!” I yelled, slamming my hand on the counter. “The card I gave you yesterday was loaded! Give me back my money! That’s my grandson’s lifeline!” The other families in line turned to stare. The clerk’s face flushed with anger. “Don’t make wild accusations, sir. Our system is monitored. We couldn’t take a cent of your money if we wanted to! Look for yourself, you haven’t paid a single bill since you were admitted. We were being generous just letting you stay!” He gestured to the line behind me. “There are other people waiting. Can you please not cause a scene?” The other families, assuming I was harassing the clerk, started to shove me away. I was an old man; I couldn’t argue with a crowd. They pushed me out, and I stood there helplessly, my mind a complete blank. The clerk sighed and led me back to his office. He opened the main system. “Sir, look for yourself. It shows no payment has been made.” “I came here yesterday afternoon,” I pleaded, shaking my head. “Check the security footage. I was really here, with my son. We even checked the balance at the ATM first.” He reluctantly submitted a request to his supervisor. The logs confirmed that I had indeed come to the billing office. But the cameras had a blind spot; they couldn’t confirm if the card I’d handed over was the same one we’d checked at the ATM. I wouldn’t give up. The clerk’s patience wore thin. “Sir, if you’re still concerned, you should call the police.” That’s what I was thinking. The police could see details others missed. But before I could dial, Daniel’s call came through. “Dad, you’ve ruined everything,” he choked out. “The surgeon just booked a flight back to Chicago. It leaves in two hours. My son’s surgery is off!” I ran like a madman to the inpatient wing and caught the surgeon just as she was getting into the elevator. She was pulling a suitcase, a look of annoyance on her face. “Sir, it’s not that I don’t want to save your grandson, but the hospital says you haven’t paid. I can’t very well fund the surgery myself, can I?” I grabbed the handle of her suitcase, tears streaming down my face. “Doctor, please, give us one more chance. I’ll pay right now. I’ll do a direct transfer this time, so there’s a record!” She hesitated, glancing at her watch. “My flight boards in an hour and a half. If you can get it done before then, I’ll cancel my ticket.” I thanked her profusely and sprinted back towards the billing office, calling my son on the way. “Daniel, send me your account number! I’ll transfer the money to you directly, and you go pay!” His voice trembled. “Dad, isn’t your card empty?” “It’s not! The hospital’s system is messed up. I’m sending you the money now. The second you get it, go to the billing office. I’m heading there too.” I hung up, opened my banking app, and transferred the last of my savings—over eighty thousand dollars—plus another twenty I’d borrowed from relatives. I sent the full one hundred thousand to Daniel’s account. I took a screenshot and saved it. Panting, I reached the billing office and slapped the counter. “My son is coming to pay right now! Please, hold my grandson’s spot for the surgery!” The clerk looked up. It was the same one from yesterday. He sighed. “Sir, there really is no money in your account. Our system…” “I know, I know! We’re not using that account. My son is paying with his card directly.” Just then, my phone rang. It was Daniel. “Dad, how much did you send?” “One hundred thousand exactly. Did you get it?” He checked his phone. “Got it!” he said, a wave of relief in his voice. “I’m on my way to pay now!” The clerk looked relieved too. “Then have him hurry over.” Ten minutes later, Daniel arrived. I urged him to the counter. The clerk took the card, inserted it into the machine, and immediately pulled it out. “There are no funds on this card. Try another one.” Daniel froze, then shot me a furious glare. “Dad, when are you going to stop this nonsense? You said you transferred the money, but you were just lying to me again!” “But you just said you received it…” I stammered. “That was the pension payment for Evelyn’s fallen colleague!” he roared. “It wasn’t your money at all!” He shoved me aside and stormed back toward the ward. “Your system has to be the problem!” I yelled, grabbing the clerk. “You saw me transfer the money to my son! How can the card be empty the moment you touch it?” The clerk stood up, his face cold. “Sir, if you continue to cause a disturbance, I will call the police.” “Go ahead! Let the police see how your hospital steals a patient’s life savings!” The police arrived quickly. They calmed me down, then logged into the system and contacted the bank to verify my transaction history. The truth came out swiftly. “Sir, you’re mistaken,” the officer said gently. “Your account has no recent transfer records. Your behavior constitutes a public disturbance, but considering your age and the circumstances, the hospital has agreed not to press charges. Please, just focus on getting the money for the surgery.” I collapsed. How could this be happening? Where did my money go? Daniel, hearing the commotion, rushed back, his face a mask of fury. “Dad, can you just stop?! My son is sick, I can barely eat or sleep, and you’re making these scenes! If I hadn’t donated all my savings, I wouldn’t need you to pay for this! If you keep this up, you can stop being my father!” I grabbed his arm desperately. “I’m not making a scene! I really did transfer the money! Son, when have I ever lied to you?” He hesitated for a second, but his anger quickly returned. “Should I believe you, or should I believe the system? You know what, ever since Mom died, you’ve gotten stranger and stranger. I’ll figure this out myself. I don’t need you.” He was the child I had cherished my entire life. His words, “I don’t need you,” shattered me. I grabbed him and pulled him towards the exit. “Cash! Son, we’ll get cash and pay. There can’t be any problems then!” I dragged him into the bank. He was fuming, but he followed me to the counter. I slapped my passbook on the counter. “I need to withdraw one hundred thousand dollars. All of it. In cash.” This was my retirement account. It was the last of my money. The teller looked at me, typed a few things into her computer, and confirmed, “Sir, your account balance is $100,370. You’d like to withdraw an even one hundred thousand?” I nodded, my fingers digging into the edge of the counter. She counted the bills, bundled them, and placed a thick stack of currency in the tray. “Please count it, sir.” I didn’t. I pushed it toward my son. “You count it.” He stared for a moment, then counted it, bundle by bundle. “$100,000. It’s all here.” I stuffed the money into a canvas bag, clutched it to my chest, and ran with him back to the hospital. It was the same clerk at the billing office. I put the bag on the counter and pulled out the stacks of cash. “One hundred thousand dollars. Cash. You see it? Now give me a receipt. My grandson’s surgery cannot be delayed again.” The clerk looked at me, then at the money. He ran a few stacks through the bill counter. Everything checked out. He nodded, typed into his computer, and handed me a thin payment voucher. “Alright, it’s paid. I’ll make a note on the surgical schedule. Just wait for the notification.” I held that flimsy piece of paper, my hands shaking. I turned and threw my arms around my son, the tears finally coming. “Daniel, look! It’s paid! Toby is saved!” Daniel cried too, holding me tight. That night, I stayed by Toby’s bedside, not daring to leave for a second. He slept soundly, his little hand wrapped around my finger. Seeing him like that, I saw a vision of Daniel as a child, so small, clinging to my hand when he had a fever, refusing to let me go. If Toby could just get through this, he would grow up strong, just like his father. My heart filled with hope. I didn’t sleep a wink. I stared at the clock on my phone, praying for morning, for the nurse to come with the surgery time. Just as the sky began to lighten, I heard footsteps in the hall. Thinking it was the nurse, I jumped to my feet. The door opened. It was Daniel. His face was as white as a sheet, his eyes red and swollen. He was clutching his phone, looking completely hollowed out. “Dad.” My heart seized. “When is the surgery?” He didn’t answer. He just handed me his phone. On the screen was a text message from the hospital: 【Dear patient family, your surgical fees have not yet been paid. Please proceed to the billing office as soon as possible to avoid treatment delays.】 I stared in disbelief. “That’s impossible! I paid $100,000 in cash yesterday! They gave me a receipt!” Daniel angrily pulled the hospital payment card from his bag and threw it at me. “I checked this morning! There’s not a single cent in the account! This is your fault! You told me to deposit the money into this account! Why didn’t you tell me there was a problem with it? Why did you have to risk Toby’s surgery?” The phone buzzed. A message from the surgeon: 【Sir, I’m sorry, I can’t wait any longer. The surgery is canceled. I wish your son a speedy recovery.】 Down the hall, I heard the sound of a suitcase rolling away, growing fainter and fainter. Daniel sank to the floor, covered his face, and let out a strangled sob. “Dad, if Toby… if he doesn’t make it because of this… I will never, ever forgive you! I hate you!” I stood frozen, a chill spreading through my entire body. His words were knives, but I didn’t have time for the pain. I immediately called the surgeon. “Doctor, please, just one more chance. I’ll sell my house. I’ll have the money then. I swear I’ll pay the fee.” There was a pause on the other end. “Sir, do you know how many times I’ve rescheduled my flight? Four times. I have other patients to save. This back and forth… are you truly serious about getting your child treatment, or…?” She didn’t finish, but her meaning was clear. “I swear, Doctor,” I begged. “This time it’s real. I’m going to sell the house right now. Just give me one more day. Just one.” A sigh. “Alright. One last day.” I didn’t have time to grieve. After promising Daniel I’d fix it, I rushed to the police station. But after reviewing everything, they found nothing wrong. By the time I left, it was dark. I thought of the relatives I’d borrowed from and started calling. “Arthur, I heard what happened. You need to take care of that boy, stop making up these wild stories.” “Your son told me everything. You knew you had no money, but you insisted the hospital stole it and even got the police involved. Arthur, are you getting senile?” “Let me give you some advice. Be good to that child. Otherwise, you’ll end up old and alone with no one to even bury you.” Every single one of them refused me. I squatted on the sidewalk and cried for a long time. When I stood up, the world tilted. I almost collapsed. Late that night, I finally made it back to my small rental apartment. Daniel and Toby lived in the small house I’d bought for them, the down payment made with my life’s savings, the deed in my son’s name. As dawn broke, an idea came to me. I washed my face and went back to the hospital. Daniel was sitting by the bed, staring at me. His eyes were lifeless, as if he’d been completely hollowed out. I didn’t notice. I was too consumed by my plan. “Daniel, I have an idea.” He looked up, no light in his eyes. “We can take out a mortgage on your house,” I said, the words tumbling out. “We’ll pay it back as soon as I get my money back.” “It’s no use…” he mumbled. “What are you talking about? If we just try one more time, we can save Toby!” I insisted. “Go, don’t waste any more time. I already told the surgeon to wait one more day.” He remained motionless. Seeing his despair, I felt a surge of frustration and threw the property deed at him. “Stop moping and go!” He mechanically opened the deed. After one glance, he ripped it in half and threw it back at me. “Dad, how many years have you been lying to me?” I was stunned. “What’s wrong?” “This house! The name on the deed isn’t mine! And it’s not yours either! Dad, you told me you bought this for me with your life savings! The deed is a fake! What else have you been hiding from me?” His voice grew louder, drawing nurses and other patients. “You wanted me to mortgage it? Were you trying to humiliate me? Did you ever even want to save Toby?” “No, Daniel, I swear I didn’t know…” “Enough!” He buried his face in his hands, his whole body shaking with sobs. “It doesn’t matter now! Nothing matters!” Before I could react, he yanked the blanket off Toby. “He’s gone! He couldn’t wait for your money anymore! Dad, just go. I don’t ever want to see you again. You’ve never told me the truth about anything. If it weren’t for you, my son wouldn’t have had to die!” I collapsed to the floor. How? How could he still be dead after I’d been given a second chance? Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Daniel was completely broken. He lunged for the window. “Toby’s gone, I don’t want to live anymore!” In that split second, a memory flashed in my mind, so sharp it was like a physical blow. “Stop! I know where the money went!”

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1 Three years ago, that ridiculous game of Truth or Dare completely derailed the lives of Blake and I. Her childhood friend suddenly proposed a cruel wager, claiming he wanted to test the authenticity of our love. The condition was that after our divorce, we wouldn’t see each other for three years. I honestly thought she’d refuse such an outrageous demand. After all, we’d argued about it countless times. Her inappropriate closeness with her childhood friend had always been a thorn in our side. But she agreed without hesitation, even confidently telling everyone that she believed I was hers for life and we’d remarry in three years. I remained silent then, knowing in my heart that it was the last chance I’d ever give her. Now, three years have passed. She stands before me, a bouquet of roses in her arms, a confident smile on her face as she calls me “honey” and says she kept her word, she’s back for our remarriage. … Blake’s lips curved into a confident, slight smirk. “Are you mad?” “Alright, alright, I’m here, aren’t I?” “Come on, don’t be mad.” Her voice was sweet, doting, assuming I was just being childish and upset for attention. Just like old times, she reached out to embrace me. I took another step back, my expression hardening. “Ms. Blake, please keep your distance!” Her hand froze in mid-air, her gentle gaze still fixed on my face. “Really mad this time, huh?” “Name your price. Whatever it takes to make it up to you, I’ll do it.” She still confidently believed that a few sweet words would win me over, just like before. As she spoke, she took another step closer. Each step she took, I mirrored, retreating further. The conquering glint in her eyes intensified. “Blake, three years is a long time. Enough to change many things.” She nodded in agreement. “Indeed.” I backed up until I hit the wall, no more room to maneuver, my back pressed against the cool plaster. She placed her hands on either side of my head, cornering me, playing that old game again. Back when we were dating, she loved to pin me against a wall like this, kissing me deeply under the moonlight. Three years ago, after losing the dare, she’d divorced me at her friend’s insistence. Three years of no contact, not a single text or call. And now, she presumes I’d just sit around, waiting for her to come back and remarry me! A cynical smile touched my lips. Before I could speak, her phone rang. She pulled it out. The screen displayed a contact: “My Little Prince.” It was her special name for Brody. I’d seen it countless times, just as I’d seen her lovingly stroke his head, saying he’d always been her “little prince” since they were kids! Completely oblivious to my feelings as her husband then. She answered immediately. “Vivi, boo hoo hoo, come quick, my stomach hurts so bad.” Brody’s whiny cry came through the phone. Blake’s eyes instantly filled with worry. “Don’t be scared, I’m coming right back.” She hung up, then quickly brushed her hand over the top of my head, as if soothing a docile cat. “I need to check on Brody first. I’ll come find you later.” Before the words fully registered, she was gone. Brody, ever the showman, flaunted their relationship on social media, as he always did. The photo showed him lying with a sweat-drenched forehead on Blake’s lap. She was gently rubbing his stomach. His caption read: “She’s always loved me most, ever since we were kids. No matter how important the event, or how important the person, if I’m not feeling well, she’s always the first to rush to my side, offering care and love. She truly is the best woman in the world!!!” I casually tapped the ‘like’ button. Not just on this one, but on every single one of his posts over the past three years. Three years, 1095 posts showing off their “love,” and I’d liked them 1095 times. He found new ways to show them off every day. For instance, he didn’t work; Blake gave him a secondary credit card to spend as he pleased. He could live in the house Blake and I once shared. My belongings, he’d use if he wanted, or toss if he didn’t. In these three years, he and Blake had done everything a couple would do. I knew he posted them specifically for me to see. Each ‘like’ was my way of showing contempt and indifference. But Brody, in his warped mind, thought I was jealous, furious, desperately trying to get attention. The next time I saw Blake, she was with Brody, drinking coffee at my café. They wore matching caramel-colored outfits. Blake, who usually favored formal business attire, was dressed in trendy, casual clothes today. I used to suggest we wear matching outfits, but she’d always say she was used to suits and didn’t want to change her style. Brody surveyed my café with a look of surprise. Blake, puzzled, asked me, “I gave you so much money, why are you doing such hard work?” When we divorced, I asked for half of our assets. She gave them without a moment’s hesitation. I stopped making the coffee, my gaze flat as I looked at her. “Because I want to. And it’s none of your business.” Blake’s expression didn’t change. She still thought I was just mad at her. Brody offered a disingenuous greeting. “Hey, Ash, long time no see. How’s it going?” “Good.” Brody seemed surprised by my calm. Blake’s phone rang, and she turned to step outside to take the call. With just Brody and me left, his pretense dropped. His smile transformed into a triumphant sneer of provocation. “Don’t play hard to get. But don’t get too happy either.” He looked down on me, a slight chuckle on his lips. “Even if you remarry Vivi this time, what good will it do?!” “Her mother doesn’t like you. Her ideal son-in-law has always been me.” “Vivi only wants to remarry you out of a sense of obligation.” “Even this remarriage, she sought my approval first.” “And you’ll have to sign a prenuptial agreement.” “Oh, and I personally drafted that agreement.” He pulled a prenuptial agreement from his bag and placed it in front of me. I glanced at it dismissively. One clause stated that all of the Blake family’s assets were none of my concern. After marriage, I wasn’t allowed to call Blake’s mother “Mom,” only “Madam.” In public, I couldn’t claim to be the patriarch of the Blake family; I had to declare myself merely her ex-husband. These outrageous terms made me laugh sardonically. I pushed the agreement back to him. “If Blake’s mother likes you so much, why are you still without a title?” “Three years, and Blake still hasn’t committed to you. How pathetic.” Brody, furious and embarrassed, instinctively raised his hand to slap me. But just then, Blake’s approaching footsteps sounded behind him. He changed his expression faster than flipping a page, tears welling up, a mix of aggrieved and understanding. “Ash, I truly hope you can remarry Vivi.” “As her childhood friend, I just want her to be happy.” “This prenuptial agreement is just a formality. Don’t be mad, okay?” He was still as dramatic as he was three years ago. The moment Blake saw him cry, her mind would turn to mush, unable to distinguish right from wrong. “Brody, what’s wrong?” Blake pulled him closer, her eyes filled with concern for him. Brody shook his head, feigning a wronged expression. “Nothing, it’s my fault. Don’t blame Ash.” The more he spoke like this, the more Blake believed I’d bullied him. “Ash!” she snapped, her face cold. “Apologize!” Her tone was an undeniable command, like ordering a servant. A cold laugh touched my lips. She frowned in displeasure and chastised me. “Brody and I grew up together, he’s like a brother to me!” “He’s a very important person to me. Can you please stop being so hostile towards him every time!” “Even if it’s for my sake, can you be kinder to him, please?!” My face remained expressionless. I’d seen this scene countless times over the past three years. I was utterly sick of it! Just as I was about to ask them to leave, my phone on the counter vibrated with a video call. The screen displayed: “My Sweetheart Daughter.” I quickly grabbed the phone, and my two-year-old daughter’s adorable face appeared in the video. “Daddy, I miss you.” I quickly exchanged a few words with her. As Blake reached for my phone to talk to my daughter, I ended the call. “What daughter?! Ash, you have a daughter?!” Blake’s eyes widened. She reached for my phone again, but I dodged her. My face was cold as I spoke to her seriously once more. “Don’t bother me. You two are twisted, crazy people!” She didn’t get angry; instead, she just indulged her self-serving belief. “Alright, don’t be mad.” “I know you’re doing this to annoy me. That call was on purpose, wasn’t it?” I instantly understood that a person as self-absorbed as her wouldn’t believe I no longer loved her until she saw my wife with her own eyes. Suddenly, she spoke to me. “Mom’s birthday is in a few days.” “Your cooking is excellent. Prepare some of her favorite dishes.” “Use this opportunity to mend your relationship with her.” So, she knew. During our three years of marriage, I had been bullied by her mother for three years. Blake’s mother looked down on me, someone from a humble background. Even though I was Blake’s legal husband, Blake’s mother never allowed me to attend any Blake family dinners. In fact, if she was present, I wasn’t allowed to sit at the table. I didn’t like her either. Our relationship was precarious, a mutual state of ignoring each other. In that dynamic, Blake had always remained silent. A mocking curve touched my lips. I deliberately asked, “Blake, just hypothetically.” “What if I cooked a feast, and your mother still wouldn’t let me sit at the table?” She hesitated before replying, “You’re the junior, just say a few nice words to butter her up.” “You know how my mom is. All bark, no bite.” Brody deliberately suggested, “Ash, it’s not beneath a junior to beg an elder. Madam is most susceptible to being begged on her knees.” He was being sarcastic, implying I should kneel. I chuckled derisively, my eyes fixed on Blake’s dark ones, my voice serious and earnest. “Blake, three years. Things have long changed.” “I’m married, and I have a child.” Then, I turned to Brody. “Perhaps you should do more begging. You might just get into the Blake family.” Brody burst into tears, feigning distress. “It’s my fault for speaking out of turn.” He covered his mouth and ran out. Blake’s face suddenly turned ugly. She snapped at me, “How much longer are you going to be stubborn?!” Then she rushed out to chase Brody. My phone vibrated. It was a text from my wife: “Honey, project finished. Home tomorrow afternoon.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I thought, once Blake saw Eleanor herself, she wouldn’t be so self-absorbed about me anymore. The next day, as soon as I arrived at the café, the preschool teacher suddenly called. She said my daughter had been taken by someone claiming to be her biological mother and godfather. My heart leaped into my throat. I raced to the Blake family estate. There, I saw Brody had put my daughter in a dog kennel, playing with dogs and cats. My daughter was allergic to animal fur. She couldn’t touch either dogs or cats. My daughter was crying uncontrollably, her face flushed to her neck. Red allergy spots were already appearing on her neck. Brody ignored my daughter’s distress. Instead, he pushed the cat towards my daughter’s arms. “Don’t be scared, Annie. This cat is three years old, so she’s like your big sister.” “She’s your godfather’s favorite cat. Give her a hug, don’t be rude. Crying so loudly will scare the kitty.” My daughter raised her hands in fear, trying to avoid it. The black cat’s sharp claws scratched several marks on my daughter’s face. My daughter cried even louder. Brody said gently, “You’ve scared the cat,” but his eyes held a threatening glint as he glared at my daughter. “Who told you to touch my daughter?!” I charged forward, enraged. I was just about to reach for my daughter when Blake suddenly appeared, wrapping her arms around me from behind, pulling me back a few steps. “Brody was just being kind, trying to give her more playmates.” “Ash, you adopted this child, didn’t you? It must be hard raising her alone.” My eyes were bloodshot with fury. I spun around and slapped her. A clear handprint bloomed on her face, which was already on the verge of “cracking.” “My daughter is allergic to cat and dog fur!” “Her playmates are never animals!” I turned again to pick up my daughter, but Blake grabbed my wrist with a firm grip. Brody wore a pitifully innocent expression as he looked at me. “It’s my cat’s third birthday today. She really likes playing with kids.” “I just thought, with Annie coming back to the Blake family, they should get acquainted first.” As he spoke, his black cat clawed wildly at my daughter. It left crisscrossing scratch marks on my daughter’s arms, neck, and face. He deliberately added, “Don’t worry, my cats and dogs are regularly vaccinated. They’re very clean.” “I even sleep with my cat every day.” Seeing my daughter’s face, crying so hard she was almost gasping for breath, my heart raced with anxiety. I struggled against Blake’s grip. She held me tighter, soothingly. “Children shouldn’t be raised too delicately.” “The Blake family fortune will be hers someday. We need to build her courage, she shouldn’t be afraid of a mere cat.” Suddenly, my daughter’s eyes closed, and she collapsed. I screamed in panic, “She’s going into anaphylactic shock!” Blake finally realized the seriousness of the situation. I rushed over, picked up my daughter, and ran to the hospital. Blake and Brody followed. While my daughter was being treated in the emergency room, the doctor handed me a consent form for risks. “Please, the child’s father or mother needs to sign this.” Blake eagerly spoke up. “I’m the child’s mother. I’ll sign it!” As she reached for the consent form, a commanding voice echoed from behind. “Since when was my daughter your daughter?!”

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Three years ago, my family sent me to the “Perfect Husband Academy.” It began when my wife, Jenny, brought home an AI butler named Caspian. After that, I became a ghost in my own home. Jenny said I only cared about work. My daughter, Annie, thought I wasn’t as good as “Papa Caspian” with homework or technology. Even my parents would say if I were half as steady as him, they’d be enjoying their retirement. Once, during an argument, I broke Caspian’s processor. Jenny screamed at me, pushing me away. Annie looked at me with fear and dislike. My father said I couldn’t handle work or family, and had a terrible temper—I was worse than a machine. They said I didn’t know how to be a husband, father, or son, so they sent me to the academy to learn. I was forced to this correctional facility for men, swapping places with Caspian. Now, three years later, my “rehabilitation” is done. My wife, daughter, and parents have come to pick me up for “graduation.” They call my name through the glass. I sit quietly, posture erect, showing no reaction. The dean reminds them that to speak to a qualified perfect husband, they must use the wake-up phrase. He says, “Please say: Perfect Husband Mode, activate.” … 1 Jenny stands outside the car. My parents stand beside her, their eyes a little red. Ten-year-old Annie peeks out from behind Jenny, her eyes curious. “Perfect Husband Mode, activate!” I blink, stand straight, hands at my sides, and bow ninety degrees. “Perfect Husband Mode activated. Please state your command.” My voice is flat, like an electronic announcement. Jenny stares at me for three seconds before saying, “Get in the car. We’re going home.” On the way back, my mother’s voice trembles. “Ash, my boy, how have you been these past three years… in there?” I don’t answer. “Ash.” Jenny’s brows furrow. “Mom is asking you a question.” “Interrogative sentences are not valid commands,” I say, looking at the road ahead. “To retrieve information, please use clear, imperative statements.” My father coughs sharply. After a moment, Jenny utters two dry words. “Report.” “Yes.” I respond instantly, like a recording playing. “Student Ash, number 7749, has completed all core courses, including ‘Efficient Income Generation and Asset Planning,’ ‘Absolute Emotional Management and Stress Endurance,’ ‘Family Needs Prediction and One Hundred Percent Responsibility Implementation,’ and ‘Integration of Traditional Husbandly Duties and Modern Family Roles.’ Graduation comprehensive assessment: Excellent. Academy evaluation: A model perfect husband for the new era, excelling in both career and family, recommended as a benchmark for promotion.” Every word is precise, steady, and cold. My mother’s eyes widen in astonishment. Annie whispers, “Daddy sounds just like Uncle Caspian.” Jenny’s knuckles whiten as she grips the steering wheel. When we arrive home, Caspian stands at the door, a perfectly polite smile on his face. “Madam is back.” His voice is gentle as he takes Jenny’s bag. “Annie got a perfect score on her math test today; the paper has been put away. Dad, Mom, your herbal tea is brewed; have some to relax.” Finally, he looks at me, his smile impeccable. “Ash, welcome home.” I don’t respond. He hasn’t used a command. “Ash,” Jenny’s voice deepens. “Caspian is welcoming you.” “No command for response or greeting received,” I reply. Jenny’s voice rises. “Here’s your command now: Thank Caspian! Thank him for taking care of the family during this time.” I turn to Caspian and nod. “Thank you.” Caspian’s smile doesn’t waver. “It’s my pleasure.” Dinner is an eight-course meal with soup, prepared by Caspian. In the past, they always complained that I was a workaholic, either working late or dealing with work at home, forgetting family birthdays, neglecting household chores, not being a “qualified” husband and father. “Caspian’s cooking gets better and better,” my father says. “It really does, even more refined than a high-end restaurant,” my mother agrees. Annie eats with her cheeks puffed out. “Uncle Caspian’s food is the best!” Jenny picks up a piece of spare rib and places it in my bowl. “Eat.” “Command confirmed: Ingest.” I pick up my chopsticks, take the spare rib, put it in my mouth, chew twenty times, swallow, put down my chopsticks, place my hands back on my knees, and wait. Everyone at the table stares at me. “Just… just one piece?” My mother’s voice is dry. “Academy rule: Dinner intake not to exceed two hundred grams. This piece of spare rib is approximately one hundred twenty grams, exceeding the limit, and will be deducted from tomorrow’s breakfast portion,” I reply. Jenny slams her chopsticks on the table. The whole family falls silent for a moment. After dinner, I stand up to clear the dishes. Caspian tries to help, but I step aside. “Please do not interfere with task execution,” I say. Caspian withdraws his hand and looks at Jenny, a hint of appropriate helplessness in his eyes. Jenny rubs her temples. “Let him do it.” I enter the kitchen and take over the dishwashing. Water flow, temperature, detergent ratio, wiping frequency… I strictly follow the academy’s standard procedures. The dishes gleam like new, the sink counter spotless. My mother leans against the kitchen doorway for a long time, finally unable to resist. “Ash, you… you don’t have to be so…” “Cleaning task completed. What is the next command?” I turn off the faucet, pivot, my hands at my sides. Her words catch in her throat, and she eventually just waves her hand. Later that night, Jenny lies beside me. I can smell her faint perfume, a floral-fruity scent I bought for her three years ago. “Ash.” Her voice softens. “Look at me.” I turn to her, my gaze direct, devoid of emotion. “Do you hate me?” she asks. 2 I respond, “Command unclear, unable to execute.” Jenny starts to speak, then stops. She turns to face me, trying to get closer. I immediately tense my body, even holding my breath. She sees my eyes, empty, without warmth or desire, only a blankness awaiting a command. “What…” Her voice is hoarse. “What did they do to you at the academy?” I don’t answer. It’s not a command. She turns away in frustration, her voice low, as if talking to herself. “…Never mind, let’s sleep.” The next day is Annie’s school sports day. She starts complaining early in the morning. “Daddy, please don’t be like before, just talking on the phone about work, or making a stern face saying my movements aren’t standard. It’s so embarrassing.” I put down my chopsticks. “Command confirmed: Maintain focus in public, do not handle work communications, do not provide technical guidance. Would you like me to simulate Caspian’s behavior? Data shows he typically offers encouraging smiles, provides electrolyte drinks after races, and says, ‘Annie’s happiness is most important, rank doesn’t matter.’” “Daddy! I don’t want you to be like him!” Annie’s eyes redden. I nod. “Command modified. According to the schedule, the sports day begins at nine sharp. I will now prepare related items.” As I leave the dining table, I hear Annie’s choked sobs of grievance. “Daddy’s so weird, old Daddy never talked to me like this, I want Daddy to go back to how he was!” Midway through the sports day, while helping Annie organize her things, an old injury flares up. It was from a few years ago when Annie was running around a shopping mall and almost hit by a falling decoration. I dove to shield her, and a sharp object pierced my lower left abdomen. I lost a lot of blood and stayed in the hospital for a long time. Jenny cried many times by my bedside, calling me her and Annie’s hero. A sharp pain shoots through my lower back, but in the academy, such unnecessary pain must be suppressed or ignored to maintain a hundred percent family pillar status. When I first entered the academy, I was punished with electric shocks for moaning in pain during training. Any display of weakness or failure in emotional control would result in more severe physical punishment. I stand on the sidelines, my face pale, watching Annie and Caspian run a “father-son” relay race. Caspian’s movements are standard and full of vitality. Onlookers say enviously to Jenny, “Your husband is amazing. Successful in his career, yet so dedicated to his family, and great at sports too.” Jenny just forces a smile. Caspian walks over, holding Annie’s hand. “Is Ash feeling unwell?” He looks at me, his eyes showing concern. “You look a bit pale.” “Negative. My physical system is operating normally,” I say, standing straighter, even though it exacerbates the pain. “Do you have any commands?” Jenny sees the cold sweat on my forehead and my tightly pressed lips. She suddenly reaches out, wanting to touch my forehead. I react as if struck by an electric current, recoiling sharply and bumping against the railing with a dull thud. People around us look over. Jenny’s face is terribly strained. “Mommy! Daddy, Daddy’s bleeding!” Annie suddenly points at my wound, alarmed. Jenny and she seem to remember something, not even bothering with others, rushing to take me to the hospital. On the way home from the hospital, Annie insists on sitting next to me, pressing close. She’s grown taller than three years ago. Her gaze on my wound becomes careful and hesitant. “Daddy, does it still hurt?” “You don’t even say if it hurts,” Jenny says, staring straight ahead, her voice stiff. “Pain perception does not affect task execution,” I reply. “According to the ‘Perfect Husband Code’: Males should properly manage their own health and emotions, avoiding their impact on family atmosphere and members’ moods. Recommendation: Ignore.” “Shut up!” Jenny suddenly roars, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. The car instantly falls silent, Annie too scared to speak. After a long moment, Jenny says in a hoarse voice, “Command: You are permitted to express discomfort.” “Yes,” I reply immediately. “Current lower back old injury pain index is approximately 7, within tolerable range. Recommendation: Use academy-provided muscle relaxant patch. Expected relief within forty-eight hours, will not affect fulfillment of family responsibilities. Recommendation: Ignore.” Jenny says nothing more, just drives the car faster. When we arrive home, Caspian prepares ointment and hot water for me. My father says with concern, “Look how thoughtful Caspian is. You, you never knew how to take care of yourself before, and now you…” I don’t hold it steadily, and the scalding hot water spills on my hand. My father exclaims, “Quick, get the first-aid kit! Ash, that must hurt so much!” My face is expressionless. “Command error, unable to execute.” A large blister forms on the back of my hand. My father is shaking with anger. “What’s with the commands, you’re a human being, can’t you feel pain?!” “Caspian, quickly help Ash with this.” Caspian walks over and professionally treats my burn, a perfect and reliable smile on his face. That night, I hear them discussing, deciding to contact the academy to find out what went wrong with me. 3 The academy’s response is that I am this year’s most outstanding graduate of the Perfect Husband Academy, and all my actions are to support the family. But my mechanized language and emotionless responses make them uncomfortable. “This is all normal. Only this way can he be the most perfect husband, father, and son in your eyes.” They are skeptical, but for the next few days, they follow the dean’s instructions. I wake up at five to prepare breakfast for the family, drop off and pick up Annie from school, work efficiently remotely during the day, check Annie’s homework in the evening, give my parents massages, and at night, fulfill my husbandly duties to Jenny according to “commands.” Her body is warm. I used to love holding her to sleep, but now I feel nothing. In a moment of intimacy, she feels something isn’t right on my hand and quickly turns on the light. My hand, burned that day, hadn’t received follow-up treatment and is now inflamed and festering. “Ash! Your hand!” I look up and ask, “Task completed. What is the next command?” She freezes, then drives like a madwoman to take me to the hospital. While the doctor treats me, I don’t make a sound, not even a frown, just calmly describe the state of my wound. The doctor looks at me in surprise, then at Jenny, his expression complex. After treating the wound, the doctor says the infection is deep; any later, and the function of this hand might have been impaired. Back home, my father looks at me, his eyes red. This man, usually so stern. “Ash…” His voice chokes as he reaches out to pat my shoulder. I step back, avoiding his touch. “Non-essential physical contact may interfere with task execution efficiency and stable image,” I say. “Recommendation: Control emotions to avoid impacting family atmosphere.” My father’s hand freezes in mid-air. He looks at me as if I were a strange machine. He suddenly turns to Jenny, his voice trembling. “Jenny, you signed the papers back then! You sent him in! Now he’s like this, it’s all your fault!” Jenny’s face pales. My mother sobs, her eyes red. “It’s my fault too! Why didn’t I stop you then! Why did I believe that academy’s nonsense! Saying they could teach Ash to be a pillar… a perfect husband…” “Look at him now!” She points at me, her finger shaking. “Does he even resemble a human anymore?! He’s like a machine! Like a puppet with a set program! Is this my son?! Is this the son I raised?!” My father embraces her. “Don’t say it… don’t say it…” “I will say it!” My mother struggles, tears streaming down her old face. “I can’t take it anymore! Seeing him like that, I hurt! My heart aches! I’d rather he was like before! At least he had a temper! He’d talk back! He’d argue with us! At least he was a living person! And now? What is he now?!” She collapses onto the sofa, covering her face and weeping bitterly. After that, they start being “nice” to me. My parents tell me not to work too hard. Annie plays simple games with me. Jenny no longer tries to be intimate with me, just gently leans against me. Their attention seems to have fully returned to me, and Caspian is often “idle.” The day Annie gets first place in her midterm exam, she throws her arms around my arm, cooing playfully. “Daddy hasn’t taken me out in ages. I got first place this time, and I want to go to the amusement park and eat the cotton candy you buy.” Caspian tries to follow, but Annie refuses, and my parents also tell him to stay home. He stands in the entryway, his expression completely unchanged. When Jenny returns home early from work, I’ve just handed the cotton candy I bought to Annie. After a few bites, Annie suddenly clutches her stomach, curling up and groaning, her face paling. The whole family panics. Caspian initiates a scan. “Detecting unidentified allergen residue in food.” He looks at me because I bought and provided the cotton candy. Jenny, holding Annie, is both shocked and furious. “Ash, is there something wrong with the cotton candy you bought?!” “Command confirmed, food was purchased and provided by me.” “I’m asking if you added anything or bought the wrong thing!” Jenny yells. My parents have already called emergency services. Caspian retrieves the shopping records and family health database, which shows I “ignored” Annie’s history of allergy to a certain dye, and purchased cotton candy containing that ingredient. Jenny, livid, slaps me across the face. “Ash, I thought three years of training would have changed you, but you’re still so careless! No, you’re heartless now! Annie has a history of allergies!” My mother pushes me, crying, “We’ve been so careful with you, how could you still make such a mistake! What did you even learn, how to harm your own daughter?!” My face swollen, I repeat again and again, “Command error, no harmful action executed. According to purchase command, chosen highest-rated store.” Jenny trembles, roaring, “Shut up! You useless piece of trash who can’t even take care of his own daughter, why don’t you just die!” “Just die!” I blink, look at their hateful faces, and respond calmly. “Command confirmed.” “Die.” Amidst their cries, I turn and walk towards the kitchen.

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My husband, Aaron, and I were supposed to go on our honeymoon to Bali. At the boarding gate, he suddenly stopped, his expression casual, and spoke. He said our love had received everyone’s blessings, so he wouldn’t be going on the honeymoon. I froze, completely unable to process it, only able to stare blankly and ask him what he meant. He smiled, took off the wedding ring from his ring finger, and gently placed it in my palm. He told me he had a “canary” he needed to tend to constantly and had already promised to be with her. He also said that marrying me had already made him indebted to that woman; I got the title of Mrs. Morris, and she got him, which he considered fair. My head buzzed, my lips bit until they bled, and I tremblingly asked him when this had happened. His tone carried a hint of apology, yet he seemed innocent, saying it had been going on for half a year. He hadn’t dared to bring it up because of my fiery temper. He said he’d wanted to marry me since he was a child, but a man couldn’t possibly love only one person his entire life. He even suggested that if I felt wronged, we could each “play the field,” and it pained him to see me upset. The wedding ring in my palm still gleamed with a pure white light, but the pregnancy test tucked in my pocket felt searing hot, as if about to burn. I smiled, though tears streamed down my face, and nodded at him. I said he was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. 1 Aaron paused for two seconds, then smiled and ruffled my hair, a relieved chuckle escaping him. “Good, glad you’ve come to your senses. With your temper, I was genuinely worried you’d go after Rosalie.” “Oh, by the way, where did you put your wedding dress? I was a little too rough with her last night; her nail caught the lace on the skirt lining. She’s been meaning to fix it for you.” It felt as though someone had clamped their hand around my throat. A chill spread from the soles of my feet through my entire body. He, however, seemed oblivious, smiling apologetically. “She was crying, begging me to let her try on your wedding dress, wanting to be my bride just once. You’re both women, you can understand, right?” I looked at his flippant gaze, and three hours ago, I recalled how, supported by my best friend, I had been walked down the aisle, wearing this very wedding dress — a symbol of happiness now stained with my husband’s and his mistress’s lust — to be given to the man before me. A wave of sickening nausea instantly surged into my throat. The ring dug into my palm, and I trembled with pain. He took off his overcoat and draped it over my shoulders, gently embracing me, soothing, “Why are you shaking? Mrs. Morris will always be you.” Aaron’s charming eyes still held an impossibly deep affection. It was as if he wasn’t the one who had just casually mentioned messing around with another woman for a year, engaging in passionate embraces while she wore my wedding dress. A jarring sense of absurdity washed over me, leaving me gasping for air. He sighed in resignation. “I know you’re upset, but the young lady is willing to be with me without any status, and she’s even generous enough not to contend for your position as Mrs. Morris. If I don’t spend more time with her, what kind of man would I be?” “Rosalie is different from other women, very pure and self-respecting. If she didn’t truly love me, she would never be a ‘canary.’ She’s sacrificed so much for me; I can’t let her down. Even though you have a fiery temper, you’ve always been reasonable, you understand me, right?” Love? I almost laughed until tears came. I loved him too. My temper was indeed fiery, yet in front of him, I softened, making myself humble and accommodating. I was reasonable, yet I would stubbornly hound paparazzi over a scandalous rumor about him, arguing with respected elders to clear his name. My love he ignored, another woman’s love he cherished. I curled my cold fingers, closing my eyes in self-mockery. “If you’re so in love, then let’s get a divorce.” Aaron paused for two seconds, then chuckled softly. “I just complimented you on your improved temper, and now you’re going to make a scene?” “You’ve been with me since you were eighteen, and you’ve had two miscarriages. If you leave me, what man out there would dare take you on?” I stared at him, my heart feeling like a red-hot coal had rolled over it. Twenty-eight years. We’d escaped the orphanage together, slept under bridges, shared a single bowl of instant noodles. During our toughest times, we only had water to fill our stomachs. Because we had no money for birth control or abortions, I endured the freezing cold, climbing stairs only to fall down them, bearing the pain and crying until I was exhausted as I lost two children. Aaron knelt by my bedside, stabbing himself twice. His blood-stained hand tremblingly covered my eyes, his words ringing in my ears, “Charlotte, I promise I’ll give you a good life. If I ever wrong you, may I be struck by lightning.” The promise was heavy. I believed it for half my life and was willful for half my life. The physical harm, the mental stress, the mundane drudgery of everyday life… all meant I couldn’t always have a gentle temper. Until half an hour ago, when Aaron held me and solemnly promised our friend he’d be good to me forever, I thought following him had been worth it my entire life. My phone rang. The ringtone was distinctive. It had appeared many times in the night, and Aaron always said it was a client. Because I trusted him so much, I never doubted. Now I realized how foolish I’d been. He didn’t answer immediately, his voice calm, as if placating an unreasonable child. “Why bother with a mere distraction? Are we really going to abandon our twenty-eight years together because of an outsider?” “You’re not young anymore, Charlotte. No parents, no job. Only I will support you. Any more drama, and it won’t be appropriate.” He handed his luggage to his assistant. “I’ll have my assistant accompany you to relax. I’m going to be with Rosalie. Think carefully about what I’ve said.” The moment Aaron turned to leave, he answered the phone. “Baby, Daddy’s on his way…” That word, “Daddy,” felt like a slap, sharply stinging my face. I ran to the restroom, gagging until my face was streaked with tears. Taking out the searing hot pregnancy test from my pocket, I pulled out my phone and made a call. Aaron was right; I shouldn’t wrong myself. Too weak for a honeymoon, I dismissed the assistant and walked alone towards our marital home. Entering the password, I opened the door. A faint, intimate gasp from a man drifted out. “Could your uncle and aunt have been prescient? Naming you Rosalie is truly fitting.” “Ever since I’ve been with you, I’ve barely touched her. I told her I was ‘sexually repressed,’ except for that one time I tricked her into giving me the property deed to transfer the house to you.” “She’s pitiable? The position of Mrs. Morris is hers. The one I need to compensate now is you.” “So kind-hearted. How about Daddy gives you his life?” Each brazen, flippant word, laced with disdain, assaulted my ears. I stood frozen in the doorway, my body tingling as if shocked. Six months ago, Aaron had shown me a diagnosis report for “sexual repression,” his face full of apology. “Honey, our future marital life might be compromised. Please don’t leave me, okay?” I felt sorry for him, trying every way to please him, but it was always fruitless. Until two months ago, when he suddenly came home drunk and we were intimate. I thought my efforts had finally worked, but it was just a reluctant act for him to set up a property for his canary… That’s when I conceived the child. Though it was the warmest part of early spring, I felt as if I were in a world of ice and snow. An hour later, Aaron emerged from the bedroom, arm-in-arm with a strikingly beautiful woman. Seeing me in the living room, Rosalie reacted as if greatly startled, her eyes instantly reddening. “Sister, it’s all my fault. This is your and Aaron’s marital home. I shouldn’t have come here, but I really loved this villa so much. I thought you were away on vacation and wouldn’t run into me, but I didn’t expect…” She suddenly pouted, bursting into tears. “Please don’t blame Aaron, and please don’t kick me out. I truly love Aaron, I’m not here to break you two up, I’m here to join you.” With that, she dropped to her knees before me, kowtowing repeatedly. Aaron’s face instantly changed. He urgently pulled her into his arms, comforting and soothing her gently. “Didn’t I tell you not to hurt yourself no matter what you do? Why don’t you ever listen? It pains me.” “Oh, never mind. You’re naturally kind and simple; you’ll never change. I’ll just have to protect you more.” He looked at me, a flicker of complexity and impatience in his eyes. “Charlotte, you’ve scared her. I should have known you wouldn’t leave quietly. Now that you’ve caused a scene, are you happy?” The sudden rhetorical question left my mind blank for a moment. I hadn’t said a single word since I entered the house. This villa was Aaron’s and my marital home. I was his legally wedded wife, Mrs. Morris. Yet, for his canary, even witnessing the culprit who destroyed everything was a mistake. Seeing my sarcastic smile, Aaron’s eyes flickered. He suddenly released Rosalie and walked towards me, his voice softening. “Alright, both of you are my darlings. You’re both equally precious to me. From now on, the three of us will live in this villa together.” “This afternoon, there’s a banquet. Come with me.” Just as I was about to refuse, Aaron interrupted me. “Rosalie is going too. It’s her first time at such an event. You can help her with her dress and lend her some support.” I froze, finding it ridiculously amusing. Then, remembering the little time I had left, I didn’t argue further. Before the banquet, Rosalie claimed she had no suitable dress and picked out a unique couture gown and accessories from my wardrobe – the ones I had worn as Mrs. Morris for Aaron’s company’s IPO debut. She walked in, arm in arm with Aaron, while I held her train, becoming the center of attention. The guests’ ridicule followed me like a shadow. “Mr. Morris really knows how to manage a wife. His wife holds up his mistress’s skirt and dares not utter a peep.” “They call her Mrs. Morris, but really she’s just a glorified maid, worse than a dog.” “This Charlotte Price must be an idiot, used for over two decades and gained nothing. She might as well be dead.” I fled the banquet hall, wanting to hide in the restroom. Instead, a sharp slap landed on my face. Clutching my stinging cheek, I stared incredulously at the woman before me. Rosalie flexed her wrist, the facade of gentleness stripped away from her face. “Aaron and I were like that right in front of you, and you still shamelessly cling to him. Aren’t you pathetic?!” “You garbage, born of no mother and raised by no one, divorce Aaron quickly, or one day, you might lose an arm or a leg, and that wouldn’t be good…” My head buzzed. All I saw was the woman’s sharp, vicious face, her mouth constantly opening and closing. I laughed in fury, but Rosalie didn’t give me a chance to retaliate. She suddenly shrieked, tore open the chest of her gown, and fell backward. “Charlotte Price!” Aaron rushed over from the center of the banquet, helping Rosalie up and pulling her into his embrace. She cried, unable to stand, tears flowing instantly. “Aaron, I know I’m the other woman, and I ruined your marriage with Miss Price. I already know I was wrong. I shouldn’t have appeared. I’m a vicious wretch!” With that, she repeated her trick, slapping herself twice hard across the face. Aaron grabbed her hands, his jaw clenched. “Who said those things?” Rosalie bit her lip, clutching her clothes tightly. “Please, don’t ask.” But as her eyes swept over me, her body trembled. “Someone like me can’t afford to offend rich and powerful ladies like you. Aaron, I was too naive, thinking love could conquer all. I’m not worthy of you. Please let me go. I don’t want to be inexplicably killed one day.” Aaron’s brows knitted tightly, his gaze fixed on me, hostile. “Explain!” I lowered my hand, revealing my swollen, red cheek. “You should ask her what she said.” “Miss Price!” Rosalie shrieked, her voice sharp and piercing. “Yes, I slapped you, but that was because you threatened my parents’ lives! They’re just ordinary people. If you’re still not satisfied, let me hit you back. Please, don’t hurt them.” My eyes turned red with anger. “You’re lying! It was clearly you…” “Enough.” Aaron cut me off coldly, looking at me with disappointment. “Charlotte, I’ve spoiled you rotten.” “Do you think because you have no parents, I can’t touch you?” Perhaps I had expected it, or perhaps I had already grown disheartened. I offered a futile smile, my eyes burning with pain. “So, how do you plan to protect your darling?” He slowly walked towards me, deliberately pulling off the good luck charm he had personally made for me, the one around my neck, when he earned his first fortune. He turned and instructed his assistant, “Call the police. Mrs. Morris has committed theft, caught red-handed.” I forgot how to move, my mind a blank. Aaron’s path to success hadn’t been easy; he was accustomed to ruthlessness. I was his only weakness. Regardless of right or wrong, he had always taken my side over what was logical. But now, he was the one plunging the knife into my heart. Aaron caressed the good luck charm, his cold features growing increasingly unfamiliar in my blurred vision. “Charlotte, you’ve been a very naughty girl. Go inside and reflect for a few days.” “Don’t worry, it won’t be long. When you come out, I’ll put the good luck charm back on you myself.” I gave a sarcastic twist of my lips. As the police officer walked in, handcuffing me, I expressionlessly pulled my hand from his grip. The sudden emptiness of the touch made Aaron frown uneasily. He stared at my retreating back, a nagging feeling that he could never hold onto me again. Just as he was about to step forward, Rosalie took his arm first. “Aaron, thank you for sticking up for me. I was so scared just now.” Aaron clicked his tongue, playfully pinching her cheek. “What do you want as compensation?” Rosalie smiled, taking the good luck charm from his hand and tossing it into the trash. Seeing his face change, she immediately pouted, her eyes reddening with feigned grievance. “Is it that important?” Rosalie made a move to rummage through the trash. “Then I’ll help you find it. After all, it’s a memento from your childhood. Even if she hurt me, I don’t want you to be troubled.” Aaron put his arm around her waist, completely softened. “You’re much more important. Don’t get your hands dirty. Here’s my black card, buy whatever you want.” Rosalie defiantly refused. “I don’t want your money, I only love you.” “Yes, yes, I want to spend money on my darling. If you don’t spend it, I’m not happy.” Rosalie then reluctantly accepted. Three days later, I was disoriented as I was led out of the confined room. I was escorted straight into a private room at a club. Pushing the door open, Aaron and Rosalie were sharing a grape in the center of the sofa. The grape dropped, and they leaned in, kissing passionately. The cheers and catcalls of the men and women around them almost blew the roof off. I don’t know how long passed before Aaron finally saw me standing in the doorway. He stared at my gaunt, pale face, his expression immediately darkening. “What’s wrong? Did someone bully you in there?” Before I could speak, Rosalie let out a derisive snort. “Sister Charlotte really knows how to manipulate men. With your relationship with Aaron, who would dare bully you? That sickly makeup you’ve put on looks so realistic; it must have taken you ages.” Aaron, who was about to stand up, settled back down at her words. He took out a cigarette, lighting it with the flame Rosalie offered. The smoke blurred his features; only his eyes, looking at me, showed suppressed impatience. “Since you’ve reflected enough, come over and apologize to Rosalie.” Rosalie, dressed in white, sat obediently nestled in Aaron’s arms, swirling a glass of unknown strength liquor. “Actually, I don’t want to make things difficult for you either.” “But you insulted my parents and threatened to kill them. Anyone would be upset, right?” She paused, then, remembering something, let out a strange exclamation. “Oh, I forgot. Your parents abandoned you when you were little. If it weren’t for Aaron, you would have starved to death by now.” I said nothing. Aaron’s face was grim, and he remained silent. Rosalie placed her drink on the coffee table and smiled. “Drink up.” I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” Rosalie shook her head. “Just saying it isn’t sincere enough. This drink is 120 proof. You should drink it.” I stared at the bubbling green liquid, instinctively looking at Aaron. In the years I helped him build his empire, I had already developed a perforated stomach from drinking at business functions. Every time I drank, I ended up in the ICU. From then on, Aaron never let me touch alcohol again. But the man before me now merely exhaled a puff of smoke, his indifferent expression as if saying the weather was nice today. “Charlotte, it’s just one drink. Your tolerance isn’t that bad.” I had long given up hope, but my heart still tightened uncontrollably. I picked it up and swallowed. The scorching pain seared from my throat down to my stomach. My lower abdomen sank, and I stumbled, doubled over in pain. “Miss Price’s alcohol tolerance is so good, then drink a few more glasses.” Rosalie pointed to a row of colorful drinks on the table. My face went cold. Rosalie looked at Aaron, her expression aggrieved. “Aaron, I was called a mistress, threatened with my parents’ death, and suffered such immense emotional damage. Is it too much to ask for this small compensation?” “Of course not too much,” Aaron said, putting his arm around her, grinding his cigarette butt into the ashtray. “Charlotte, I want to help you too, but you went too far. Listen to Rosalie. Once she’s appeased, you can atone.” I nodded calmly. Clutching my stomach, which felt like it was being twisted by a knife, I picked up the decanter on the table. “A few drinks aren’t enough for atonement. I’ll chug the bottle.” When the bottle hit the floor, I couldn’t help but cough up blood, collapsing weakly onto the ground. Rosalie recoiled several steps in disgust. “Miss Price, it was just one bottle of wine. Do you really need to use a blood bag?” Aaron was also convinced by this reasoning, his brow furrowing impatiently. “Alright, how long are you going to keep up this act? Rosalie has been merciful enough to you. Stop making a spectacle of yourself and get up.” I said nothing, looking up at him. The woman closest to me suddenly shrieked, “Blood! Her pants are covered in blood! This is… she’s having a miscarriage…” I met Aaron’s instantly bloodless face, revealing my most genuine smile of the day. “Your child is also compensated to her. Is that enough?”

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I was right there when John dragged her ex-boyfriend, Lucas, into the hotel room. She turned to me, a cold sneer twisting her lips. “Haven’t you always doubted me?” “Well, now I’ll do everything right in front of you.” Soon, the room filled with the blush-inducing sounds of gasps and whispers. In that moment, I knew with chilling clarity that John and I were completely over. After that, no matter what she did, I never felt jealous again, nor did I ever confront her. Once, a broadcast reported a rumor about her and Lance. Hearing it, she immediately turned off the radio, eager to explain herself to me. I simply replied, nonchalantly, “I know. Those are all false.” But she still wasn’t reassured and continued to explain frantically. I couldn’t help but smile, telling her, “Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret. I won’t tell Mom and Dad.” She slammed on the brakes, her face instantly turning ashen. 1. The moment John took Lance to that hotel room, our relationship ended. When I heard her and Lance’s names combined again, praising them as a match made in heaven, I didn’t crumble as I’d imagined. Lance was a social media influencer, gaining many followers by filming his daily life as an overseas student. A month ago, a live photo he posted on social media featured John. In the image, John’s figure flashed by, along with a box of condoms. Soon, someone dug up John’s identity. The live photo quickly became a trending topic. In Lance’s comment section, fans were asking: [Lance, tell us honestly, are you in love?] [This woman looks like the CEO of the Vinc Group.] [Wow, the woman in the GIF looks so beautiful.] Seeing these messages, I stood frozen. The conspicuous condoms in the photo brazenly declared the relationship between a man and a woman, and I felt a chill run through me. Back home, I waited for John’s explanation. She simply dismissed it in a few words. “Just a misunderstanding.” Seeing no reaction from me, she added: “I’ve already had them take down the trending topic.” After that, Lance’s name frequently appeared in my life. I heard colleagues gossiping at work. Every one of his posts was precisely pushed to me by big data. His and John’s rumors intensified. Netizens speculated widely about their relationship. 2. That weekend, John was away on a business trip. My best friend and I had made plans to go to a hot springs resort. There, I saw John and Lance. John was wearing a bikini, her perfect figure exposed to the air, with a suit jacket draped over her. Lance’s shirt collar was slightly open, his sleeves rolled up, and his suit trousers hugged his long legs, his posture casual and relaxed. Walking side by side, they looked like a match made in heaven in the eyes of others. John tilted her head slightly, listening to Lance speak. I don’t know what he said, but they both smiled in sync. I watched them enter the same private room. I followed, and inexplicably, pushed open the door. My mouth moved faster than my brain, uttering the accusing words: “John, you and Lance went to a room and slept together, didn’t you?” I froze on the spot. Everyone in the room turned to stare at me. John looked at me, her eyes indifferent. She withdrew her gaze, her thin lips parting slightly. “Assistant Chen, close the door.” I almost forgot how to breathe. John’s attitude made me feel embarrassed and humiliated. I lost all desire for the hot springs. After greeting my friend, I left the resort. John returned home that evening. I felt apologetic for what happened that morning, but I couldn’t help but feel wronged. A bitter sourness surged from deep within me, and I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t help but ask her. “John, did you cheat on me?” “What’s your relationship with him?” She glanced at me indifferently, her attitude cold and distant. “Ethan, what kind of relationship do you want me to have with him?” “In front of so many people, did you consider his future position?” My mind stalled, my heart sinking little by little. Her indifferent attitude was like a knife, piercing my heart without mercy. John glared at me coldly, then withdrew her gaze and disappeared from the living room. 3. After that, we fell into a cold war. John frequently went on business trips. The complete breakdown happened at one of John’s hotels. I saw Lance and John appear together in the hotel lobby. They took the elevator together to the penthouse suite. I followed them. “John.” She and Lance both stopped, turning to look at me. I asked her: “Your ‘business trip,’ was it actually taking your ex-boyfriend to a hotel room?” John just sneered. “Alright, haven’t you been suspecting me of cheating?” “Do you want me to show you everything, right in front of you?” She grabbed Lance’s arm and pulled him into the suite. Her eyes, dark and deep, fixed on me. “What, aren’t you going to come in and see what happens between him and me?” With that, John slammed the door shut. My eyes burned, my throat tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t say anything. As I stepped into the elevator area, an unknown number called. The caller didn’t speak, only the faint, fragmented gasps of a woman came through. I froze for a long time… This ambiguous sound confirmed that John and Lance had crossed a line. My nose instantly stung with pain, and I knew John and I were truly over. I hailed a cab and left. Sitting in the car, I scrolled through Lance’s secondary social media account. His high school and college accounts had been dug up by netizens, and his relationship timeline with John had been meticulously compiled. He and John were high school classmates and started dating after graduating high school. They both went to King’s University, in different majors. Through Lance’s account, I seemed to see a different John. John would patiently accompany him to take photos at various trendy spots and even learned photography for him. She went with him to Disneyland, to the beach. Lance’s secondary account was filled with the pink sweetness of their love. The words he shared conveyed the strong affection between him and John. [She specially honed her photography skills for me; she loves me more than I love myself.] Under this post, someone commented: [Lance, I’m your junior, I also got into King’s from King’s First High. I heard about you and senior John in high school. You guys are so sweet, wishing you two forever.] John replied to the junior: [Thank you, he and I will be together happily.] The long-dormant King’s University forum buzzed with discussions about John and Lance again. [John and Lance were a match made in heaven at our school back then, but later Lance went to study abroad, and they seemed to break up.] [So, it’s a rekindled romance now?] [I have a bold guess: Lance seems to come from an ordinary family; it would be hard to afford his overseas studies, right? Could John have paid for it? That’s even more swoon-worthy, CEO John “working” domestically to support her husband.] John flew to California every year, and Lance’s alma mater was located in California. My hand, holding the phone, trembled slightly; I dared not overthink it. 4. Ten minutes after I arrived home, John also got back. Her clothes were neat, and she looked perfectly composed. My eyes were still a little red, and I didn’t meet her gaze directly. John stepped forward and took my hand. She explained to me. “Nothing happened between him and me.” “Tonight, those were just words spoken in anger.” She explained, but it was too late. I nodded gently. “I understand.” I didn’t speak to her for the entire evening. The next day, not feeling well, I took a cab to work at the hospital. When it was time to leave, I suddenly didn’t feel like going home. My colleague was on night duty but needed to attend his child’s parent-teacher conference, so I covered his shift. Tonight’s night shift was very busy. Several emergency patients were admitted. Only when I came out of the operating room did I see over a dozen missed calls on my phone. Liam, my colleague, rushed back after the parent-teacher conference. “Ethan, thanks a lot.” “I heard several emergencies came in tonight, and you did another surgery. You must be tired.” “I brought you a bubble tea.” I didn’t stand on ceremony with Liam; I took the bubble tea. “Thanks, Liam.” “I’m heading out then.” Liam smiled. “It’s I who should be thanking you.” It was almost midnight when I left the hospital. I had taken a cab in the morning, and I took one back now. After getting in the car, I properly checked my phone. All the missed calls were from John. She had sent messages: [Where are you?] [I’m waiting for you in the hospital parking garage.] I was already in the car. [No need.] [I’m on my way home.] Shortly after I arrived home, John also rushed back. Since that day, my feelings for her had changed. Her sudden return home made me feel a little lost. We stood facing each other, and I only felt extremely awkward. John’s gaze, however, was fixed tightly on me. I avoided her eyes. Seeing her, I would think of Lance. I would remember her pulling Lance into the hotel, and Lance’s call softly murmuring in my ear. I would remember everything about her and Lance’s relationship over the past few years. I used to share everything that happened at the hospital and what I ate each day with John. I was always the one trying to find topics to talk about. Now, I realized we had almost nothing to say to each other, making the entire space extremely quiet. It made me recall Lance’s diary entries during their relationship. [How can she talk so much? I’m almost falling asleep, and she’s still going on about what happened in the lab today.] Thinking of that, my heart suddenly tightened. John abruptly spoke. “Weren’t you on day shift today? Why are you so late?” I could feel her eyes on me. I didn’t meet her gaze, turning my back to her and walking to the dining table to pour water. “Mhm.” I didn’t explain, nor did I bother to. There was no need to be so clear with her. When I turned around, she was standing in front of me. Her thin lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something. I spoke first, and she swallowed her words. “I’m going to take a shower first.” When I came out, John was standing at the door. I was startled. Our eyes met unexpectedly, and I nodded awkwardly. Lying awake at night, my mind wandered. Just lying in the same bed made me feel uncomfortable. 5. John wakes early. By the time I wake up, she has already washed up and changed. Breakfast is laid out on the table. John’s expression is cool and aloof. Seeing the breakfast spread, I get a little lost in thought. I think of Lance’s social media posts again. [Last night I said I wanted a sandwich for breakfast, and when I woke up, I saw her in the kitchen preparing it for me.] [Her cooking is getting better and better.] Someone commented in the comments section: [Senior is so lucky.] Lance replied: [Hehe, I wish you could also find your own happiness.] Until John calls out: “Ethan.” “Breakfast is ready.” I snap back to reality and glance at the time. “You eat. I don’t have time.” A hand grips my arm. John’s narrow eyes look at me. Her gaze is deep. “There’s time. I’ll take you.” I sit down and eat a few bites casually. “Tonight, Grandpa wants us back at the old house for dinner.” “I’ll pick you up from the hospital in the evening.” I nod. “Okay.” As I stand up, John also rises. Her voice is rather cold. “I’ll take you.” I reject her without hesitation. “No need.” Her brow furrows slightly, and I immediately leave. 6. Liam and I ate lunch together in the cafeteria. Liam brought up the topic of going to Riverton for further study. He sighed. “Oh, my son has his college entrance exam this year, I don’t have time to go.” “Families like ours at the hospital certainly aren’t willing to go.” “And newly married doctors, it’s even less likely they’d go.” I said, “Liam, if you’re not going, I will.” Liam paused. “Ethan, are you sure?” I nod. “Yes, I want to take this opportunity to learn.” After lunch, I immediately contacted my supervisor and filled out the application form. Towards the end of my shift, John called me. I put it on speakerphone, and Liam and a few colleagues happened to walk by, looking at me with gossipy smiles. “Ethan, girlfriend?” I smiled, denying it. “No.” John said, “I’m in your hospital’s underground parking lot.” “Okay, I’ll be right down.” In the dim parking lot, a woman stood beside a black G-Wagon, her figure tall and slender, her back cool and aloof. I walked towards her. Unexpectedly, I ran into Liam in the parking lot. Liam smiled as he walked towards me, his eyebrow raised slightly. “Ethan, girlfriend?” “She’s not bad-looking.” My mind quickly whirred, and I spun a lie. “No, she’s my cousin.” John looked at me, her gaze deepening. Liam understood, losing his gossipy interest. “I’m heading off.” Once in the car, John’s throat subtly moved as she turned to face me. “Why did you say that just now?” I explained frankly. “I didn’t want my colleagues to misunderstand.” John paused slightly, her brow imperceptibly furrowing. “Misunderstand?” The car drove out of the parking lot. The familiar voice of a marketing account on the car’s entertainment channel was broadcasting. “Vinc Group CEO John Davies and influencer Lance Miller were recently spotted together at a new resort in Riverton. John was wearing a sexy bikini, and Lance draped his suit jacket over her. The two exuded immense sexual tension.” John immediately turned off the radio. She explained, “You were there that day, and there were other business partners present.” I replied, with a light, calm tone, “I know.” John spoke again. “Nothing happened between him and me.” I smiled thinly, assuming she was worried I’d tell our elders. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep it a secret. I won’t tell Grandpa.” John slammed on the brakes, her face suddenly turning pale. She looked at me, emotions swirling in her eyes.

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