1 The thought of a second marriage shattered for good that night. The man who once pulled me from the depths of despair was now screaming at me, eyes blazing red. The acrid smell of the air freshener stung my eyes, my throat constricted, unable to utter a single word. “A used-up, second-hand woman, still pretending to be innocent with me every day?” “Your ex-husband sold two thousand of your five-dollar intimate photos!” “If you had half the passion in bed as you did in those photos, do you think I’d go looking for fun elsewhere?” He finally snapped, shoving me to the floor. The air freshener clattered, shattering into pieces. “And tonight? Did you have enough fun with that flower vendor again?!” “Last time you said you just ‘rubbed up against her’ and didn’t ‘go all the way,’ and then she got pregnant!” I pressed harder, like a madwoman, until streaks of blood seeped from his thigh. But tonight, the moment he walked in, the choking scent of flowers from his collar had assaulted my nose. Usually, when he felt guilty, he’d let me rage, let me be unreasonable, swearing repeatedly that he’d never do it again. Every day he came home, I’d drag him into the bathroom, armed with a scrubbing brush and disinfectant, furiously scrubbing the inside of his thighs. Since discovering Greg’s infidelity, I’d developed a severe scent aversion. I sat numbly on the floor, staring at this man who was both familiar and a stranger. … Before I realized the surge in my nose, drops of blood were already splattering onto the bathroom tiles. Greg’s face instantly went pale. He fumbled, wiping my face clumsily with his sleeve, his voice tinged with regret. “Darling… is it the psychosomatic symptoms again?” “I’m so sorry, I got carried away. Please don’t scare me; I’ll get your medicine right away.” He stumbled out of the bathroom, the sound of drawers being frantically pulled open and shut echoing from the living room. I pushed myself up, bracing against the cold sink, then collapsed weakly onto the sofa. On the coffee table, a vase held a bouquet of roses, already withered and black. I stared blankly at the dead flowers, lost in thought. Five years ago, I sat just like this in my ex-husband’s living room. To win back his childhood sweetheart who had returned from abroad, my ex-husband secretly took intimate photos of me. Five dollars a piece, he sold two thousand of them online. The torrent of disgusting, vulgar comments completely drowned me. Then Greg appeared, staying by my side every day as I faced the whispers and gossip. He pulled me out of the abyss, and we got married. To keep me happy, he’d bring me a bouquet of flowers every day after work. Sometimes roses, sometimes daisies. Until the day he didn’t come home all night, returning the next morning with a bouquet of lilies – flowers I was allergic to. Enduring the hives, I found explicit photos of the flower vendor on his phone. When confronted, he knelt by the bed, weeping, his eyes red-rimmed, begging for forgiveness. He claimed he’d been drunk after a work event, mistook her for me, and only hugged her in bed, never “going all the way.” I believed him. But not long after, the flower vendor showed up on our doorstep, heavily pregnant. Greg dragged her to the hospital to terminate the pregnancy. He held my trembling body, vowing he would never do it again. … “Iris, where’s the medicine? Why isn’t there anything in the drawer?” Greg’s frantic searching broke my trance. He stood in the living room, his face etched with worry. I slowly stood up, leaning against the sink, stuffing tissues into my nose. “The medicine ran out ages ago.” I looked at him, my voice eerily calm. “I haven’t seen a doctor in a long time.” Greg froze, the empty medicine box trembling in his hand. The living room fell silent, save for his heavy breathing. His eyes filled with remorse, and he quickly walked over to me. “I’m so sorry, Iris. I’ve been too busy lately.” He reached out to embrace me, his voice laced with self-reproach. “I’ll take tomorrow off. I’ll go with you for your check-ups every day from now on, okay?” The moment he finished speaking, his phone, resting on the coffee table, rang. An unsaved number flashed on the screen. Greg’s body stiffened. He glanced at me, then walked onto the balcony to answer. From the other end of the line, a woman’s tearful gasp could be heard. “Greg, someone’s causing trouble at the shop, please come help me!” Greg’s brow furrowed. He grabbed his jacket, speaking into the phone as he headed for the front door. “Just put some ice on it yourself for now. I’ll be right back as soon as I deal with this.” The sound of the door closing echoed, leaving me alone in the house. I laughed derisively, throwing the withered flowers into the trash. If her happiness took precedence over mine, then I might as well give up my position as his wife. 2 I tucked the early pregnancy test results, which I’d intended as a surprise, to the bottom of my bag. Then I pulled out my suitcase, ready to pack. But a glance at the critical condition notice on the table made me pause. My mother-in-law had severe kidney failure; the doctor said she didn’t have much time left. I thought back to these past few years, how she’d tearfully held my hand, calling me the savior of the Stone family. She swore that the Stones would only recognize me as their daughter-in-law and would cherish me like their own child. The year Greg cheated, she even beat him black and blue with her cane, declaring that even if my marriage with him ended, she would still consider me her goddaughter. My heart clenched. The next second, my phone vibrated. A message from a friend. “Iris, I finally managed to get hold of that expensive foreign miracle drug you wanted to acquire!” I sighed, and eventually picked up my car keys. I decided to see this mother-in-law bond through, hoping for a good outcome for everyone. My phone was dead, so I didn’t think much of it. Without warning, I drove directly to the private estate where my mother-in-law was convalescing. My clothes were drenched from the rain as I carefully shielded the box of life-saving medicine in my arms, pushing open the slightly ajar front door. Inside, the heating was on full blast, chasing away the chill of early winter. But the desolate scene of a gravely ill woman I’d imagined was nowhere to be found. I froze in the entryway, my mind momentarily blank. In the living room, my mother-in-law, who should have been bedridden, was glowing. She was holding a two-year-old boy wearing a birthday hat, beaming with joy. A nanny was cutting a two-tiered car-shaped cake nearby. I stood stiffly, instinctively stepping back to check the house number. I thought I had come to the wrong house, or perhaps some distant relatives had brought a child to visit. But the next second, my gaze swept past them, fixing on the family portrait in the center of the living room. Greg, my mother-in-law, Lily and the boy in her arms. Only I was missing. And this spot, whenever I had visited before, was always covered with a red cloth. My mother-in-law had simply said it was because the area got dirty easily… But now, what more was there to understand? An instant, violent ringing swallowed my hearing. I trembled all over, staring intently at the boy’s face. His features, his outline, were exactly like Greg’s. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Hearing the commotion, my mother-in-law turned and saw me, dripping wet. The smile on her face froze instantly, and panic flickered in her eyes. She hurried over, reaching for my hand. “Iris, what are you doing here suddenly…? Please let me explain, things aren’t what you think…” I stiffly lowered my head, desperately trying to suppress the tremors wracking my body. “Not what I think? Then whose child is this? And what about the photo on the wall?!” My mother-in-law opened her mouth, knowing that no amount of cover-up would work now. She sighed heavily and simply confessed. “Iris, since you’ve seen everything, I’ll tell you the truth.” She took a breath. “I truly pity you! You were ruined by those hooligans back then, unable to be touched by a man. But our Stone family can’t be without an heir!” I stood rooted to the spot, listening to my mother-in-law’s earnest pleas in my ear. “Greg was drunk and confused back then, but the child is innocent…” She went on, “Don’t worry, you’ll always be the Stone family’s only legitimate daughter-in-law! I’ve already signed an agreement with that woman; she’ll be a hidden joke for the rest of her life!” I pulled at the corners of my mouth. My gaze drifted to the healthy, lively child nearby, and for a moment, I didn’t know who the real joke was. So the “bastard child” Greg swore he’d aborted, not only was born, but was already two years old. I stared at her numbly, my heart feeling as if a large hole had been gouged out of it, cold wind rushing through. After a wave of nauseating sickness churned in my stomach, I pushed my mother-in-law away and rushed out without looking back. “Iris, what are you doing?!” My mother-in-law called out, her voice muffled as if through a film of water, completely distorted. I ignored her, plunging headfirst into the cold, rainy night. 3 Back home, I pulled out the suitcase I had prepared earlier, stuffing clothes into it with an expressionless face. But it wasn’t long before the front door clicked open with a passcode. I thought it was Greg, but to my surprise, Lily walked in casually with her child. Seeing me, a defiant glint flashed in her eyes. “Iris, Greg was too tired last night. He’s still sleeping at my place.” She settled onto the sofa as if she were the lady of the house. “I just came to get his ID.” She explained. “The little one will be starting preschool in a couple of years, and we need his father’s identification for early registration.” I fought against the churning nausea in my stomach, turning my back to her. “Grab what you need and get out.” She didn’t leave. Instead, she laughed even more brazenly. “Iris, don’t be so angry.” She continued, “Greg only has this one child, after all. This house will be mine and my son’s eventually. Is there anything wrong with me bringing my child here early to get familiar with the environment and learn the place?” The little boy was rampaging through the living room, smashing toy cars everywhere. I was about to step forward to stop him when I heard a sharp “crash!” A violent shattering of porcelain echoed from the balcony. That orchid, placed on the most prominent shelf, had been knocked to the ground by the little boy. Its vibrant green leaves were crushed, soil mixed with shattered pottery fragments splattering everywhere. My mind let out a deafening “buzz,” blood rushing to my head instantly. When I was little, my parents weren’t around. My grandmother was the only one who raised me. This orchid was the only relic she left me before she passed. It was my last cherished memory and source of warmth in this world. Red-eyed, I rushed over and shoved the boy, who was still carelessly stomping on the orchid leaves. “Get out! Get out with your bastard child!” The boy stumbled, fell to the ground, and burst into uncontrollable sobs. Lily’s face instantly changed. She rushed over, fiercely shielding the child. “Iris, what’s gotten into you?! A barren woman who can’t have children, how dare you lay a hand on my son!” She looked at me, trembling, her taunts growing crueler. “No wonder Greg said touching you made him sick. You’re just a dirty, second-hand woman!” She spat. “Greg even showed me those intimate photos of you being dragged into that alley. Five-dollar photos of you in 101 poses, bought by 2000 men who used them to ‘get off.’ You think I don’t know?” I felt as if struck by lightning, all the blood in my body flowing backward in that moment. Greg had clearly promised he would spend a lifetime healing my wounds. Now, he had personally torn open my scars and turned them into fodder for his mistress’s after-dinner entertainment! Overwhelming hurt and rage completely consumed my reason. I raised my hand, putting all my strength into it. I slapped her hard across the face. “Get out!” The sharp sound of the slap resonated throughout the living room. Lily’s head whipped to the side from the impact. She clutched her instantly reddened and swollen face, staring at me in disbelief. “You’re a complete lunatic…” she muttered. Then, clutching her child, she scurried out the door. The door slammed shut with a bang. I knelt amidst the muddy mess on the floor, frantically trying to pick up the shattered orchid leaves. Tears streamed down, blurring my vision completely. I couldn’t bear to stay in this disgusting marriage for another second. 4 My hands trembling, I swallowed my antidepressants, then headed out to deliver the divorce papers to Greg. Just as I reached the dimly lit utility room beside the corridor, familiar footsteps approached. Greg stormed from the stairwell, grabbing my neck and pinning me against the load-bearing wall. “Where did you hide little Leo?!” I struggled to break free from his grip, feeling the nausea that I had just suppressed return with full force. “Cough, cough, cough… What Leo? I don’t know…” “Still pretending!” His eyes were bloodshot, his voice echoing in the stairwell. “Lily said you went crazy and hit the child, and then he disappeared! Who else could it be but you?!” Blood rushed to my head. “I told you I haven’t seen him. If you don’t believe me, check the security footage!” “Iris, you’re just stalling!” He suddenly grabbed my hand, roughly dragging me into the abandoned storage room next to the rooftop. With a “bang,” the iron door slammed shut, plunging the room into instant darkness. I struggled to get up, but Greg pinned me down, his knee pressing hard against my leg. He violently ripped my skirt. The world before my eyes blurred, leaving only the ringing in my ears. “Let go of me!” He sneered, pulling out the high-concentration cleaning solution I carried in my bag, which had spilled on the floor. The next second, the cold, pungent cleaner was uncapped and brutally poured all over my thighs. A fiery, stinging pain instantly scorched my skin. “You can’t have children yourself, so you hurt someone else’s?!” He spat. “Let me see, this area of yours… it’s been touched by many people, hasn’t it?” He sneered, “What’s with the innocent victim act? After all those people used you, you probably loved every minute of it, didn’t you?!” I struggled, trying to run out, but Greg slapped me again, sending me crashing to the floor. “Didn’t you think about this day when you kidnapped Leo?” He growled. “I need to make you understand that my patience has limits!” The overpowering smell of chemicals, the man’s brutal restraint, the absolute darkness. Those vicious words instantly merged with my ex-husband’s curses. Countless dirty hands tearing at my clothes in that alley flashed madly through my mind. My stomach churned with overwhelming nausea, and I let out a desperate cry, kicking at him with all my might. In the violent struggle, my lower abdomen slammed hard against the sharp, rusted edge of an abandoned metal frame nearby. A muffled “thump.” An unbearable, searing pain instantly shot through my entire body. Warm blood, mixed with the pungent cleaner, slowly flowed down my thighs onto the cold concrete floor. I convulsed in pain, seemingly dragged back into that surreal world of memory. My ex-husband’s cold indifference as he allowed his beloved to leak my intimate photos, the overwhelming mockery from classmates and friends. “This stuff is strong; one sip and you’re out. Just shoot, any way you want!” “Such a loose woman, why don’t you just die?!” My vision flickered in and out, until the liquid beneath me felt hot, then tight and dry. Only then did Greg’s hands cease their brutal work. His phone suddenly rang in his pocket. He released his grip, answering the call and putting it on speaker. The hurried voice of the building security guard came through. “Mr. Stone, we found the child!” The security guard announced. “The little guy was playing around and got on a bus. He’s perfectly fine at the terminal; false alarm!” In the darkness, Greg was stunned for a moment. Then, with a relieved sigh, he pushed open the locked door. Sunlight streamed in, a little blinding. I looked up blankly. The rain had stopped, but the rooftop was still overcast. Faintly, I thought I saw my grandmother’s figure in the sky. Greg hung up the phone, remorsefully turning his head. He had just opened his mouth to say, “Iris… I’m sorry…” But I ignored him, gathering every ounce of strength, and suddenly rushed towards the edge of the rooftop! Greg’s face instantly went pale. “Iris!”

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1 After three long years, I could finally lift my hand. This sudden, miraculous ability made me forget the stiffness in my body as I slowly, painstakingly, crept towards the bedroom door. The gasping sounds from beneath the crack in the door were like ice picks stabbing into my ears. Kris Essen’s profile, illuminated by the warm glow of the monitor, looked utterly alien. On the screen, Mindy Hickey’s smug smile shimmered with triumph. “Regret it?” Mindy’s voice, full of mockery, cut through the air. “If it weren’t for Summer Bloom saving you back then, you wouldn’t be begging me like a dog for her treatment money.” The air solidified for a few seconds, until the flush on Kris’s ears betrayed his answer. “Regret it.” The two words slammed into my chest, making my heart ache. So, all those nights of devoted care were just an act; he had been tired of this life for a long time. I turned and crawled back, the floor scraping my skin raw. My fingernails tore back, oozing blood, but I felt nothing. As the wind from the balcony whipped into my collar, I suddenly smiled. Kris, the release you want, I’ll give it to you. The moment I plunged off, I heard myself say: I’m free. … The wind howled past my ears, yet I felt a freedom I hadn’t known in years. Warm blood pooled beneath me. A cold gust blew, making me shiver. Before my eyes closed, I felt a deep sense of relief. At least it was night. No one would come out, no one would be scared. I hoped when Amelia Price found out I was dead, she wouldn’t be sad. Thinking of what she had just said, I felt even more at ease. She wouldn’t be sad. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in the room. Amelia had just finished getting dressed and was heading towards my bedroom. She must have heard the thud of my fall. She called my name, asking if I was okay. But before she could pull open the bedroom door, Kris Essen’s voice stopped her. “Amelia, get back here! Do you have to ruin my mood right now?” Amelia’s hand rested on the doorknob. She paused, then closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. She returned to the computer, attempting to negotiate with Kris. “That’s enough. I have to take Leo to his doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning. I need to prepare the necessary documents in advance.” Kris clearly paid no mind to her refusal. “I’m not done yet. Go to the supermarket downstairs and buy a box of condoms. Come over to my place and we’ll continue.” Amelia glanced at the time. “It’s too late today…” Kris leaned closer to the screen, a smirk on his face as he stared at her. “Late? Usually at this time, we’re just getting started, aren’t we?” He chuckled. “It’s right next door to your place; you’ll be here in minutes. Oh, you haven’t tucked him into bed yet, have you? What, afraid he’ll hear us?” I froze. I suddenly remembered that I would often vaguely hear passionate sounds in the middle of the night. Each time, I thought it was some neighbor. It never once occurred to me that it was Amelia. Once, in the middle of the night, I needed to use the restroom. Getting no response from Amelia, I tried to climb onto my wheelchair myself. The wheel slipped, and I fell heavily, breaking my arm, unable to even lift it. I could only lie on the floor, enduring the agonizing pain until she returned. At the time, I thought she was working so hard. To earn money for my medical treatment, she even took a night job. She must have been exhausted. I kept comforting her, lying that I wasn’t in pain. I never expected she was indeed exhausted. But not because of me. All this time, they had been intimately involved in a room just a wall away from mine. While I struggled to even turn my head, they had already tried every position imaginable. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably. The old me hated crying. Whenever Amelia saw my tears, her eyes would well up too, her heart aching for me. I didn’t want her to suffer with me, so I always swallowed my tears and smiled at her. But now, I wanted her to know that I could feel pain too. My tears hit the ground, but left no trace. She couldn’t see them anymore. Amelia, her thoughts clearly exposed, lowered her head and said nothing more. Kris, displeased, his smile abruptly vanished. “Amelia, don’t forget, his treatment money tomorrow is also coming from me!” He warned. “I’m giving you ten minutes. One second late, and you can forget about getting any money tomorrow!” The video call ended. Amelia stared at the screen, stunned for a few seconds. She sighed, grabbed her phone, and shut down the computer. Before leaving, she looked at the closed door of the master bedroom. “Leo, don’t worry. I will definitely cure you.” Her voice was firm. So much like the countless times over the years she had held my hand and told me, “Don’t worry about the money. You just focus on getting well, for my sake.” But only today did I realize that all the money she earned was by appeasing Kris Essen. If I had known, I would rather not have had the treatment than put her through such trouble. I was like a fixed puppet, following behind her as she left the apartment. To go to the supermarket downstairs, she would have to pass by the path next to the ground beneath the balcony. I saw Amelia glance in my direction. I tensed up immediately, my heart pounding. Luckily, the night was dark. Plus, with the cover of trees and bushes, my body wasn’t so glaringly obvious. Amelia didn’t discover me. I secretly sighed with relief. Good thing she didn’t see. My current appearance was truly gruesome. Covered in blood, my skull slightly deformed. My legs, now so thin they were almost just bones, bent at an incredible angle. They must have been broken. I felt a pang of regret. Those were once the legs of a dancer. They chronicled my past, carried my future. Now, they had met such an end. But if Kris Essen saw me, he would surely gloat. After all, his grudge against me wasn’t new. He had always wished for something bad to happen to me. Years ago, our two families were on the same tour bus. There was an accident on the road. My dad desperately pushed Kris and me out of the bus window. He said he could only rest easy if he saw Kris and me safe and sound. Those were his last words. He had wanted to save Kris’s parents too. But the next second, the vehicle exploded. No one who hadn’t escaped survived. Kris, however, believed my dad had caused his parents’ deaths. If my dad had let him stay on the bus, maybe he could have pulled his parents out. But my dad had insisted on pushing him out first. He said my dad was a busybody and deserved to die. I called him a venomous snake, ungrateful to a fault. Now, all of it was finally over. In the supermarket, the clerk noticed Amelia’s interest in purchasing something and proactively picked up a box to recommend. “Miss, this brand is on sale right now, would you like…” Amelia said calmly, “No need, he’s allergic.” Then she reached for another brand. She went to the checkout counter and paid, all in one smooth motion. Her actions were very practiced, as if she had bought them countless times. But ever since my condition had worsened, we hadn’t been intimate at all. It was obvious who these were for. In that instant, I suddenly regretted my decision to save her three years ago. That was my first time on the stage I had always dreamed of. And it became my last. After the awards ceremony, I bowed in thanks. As Amelia came onto the stage with flowers to celebrate me, a thick beam fell without warning. I pushed her away, but I was struck. She tried to lift the beam to rescue me, but that only caused me secondary injuries. The repeated impacts triggered my ALS. On the day I was diagnosed, she crouched beside me, tears streaming down her face, her features etched with regret and guilt. “Leo, I’ll always be by your side and take care of you.” “Thank you.” It turned out her promise of “always” only lasted a mere three years. Just like during the time she pursued me, when she kept all my preferences in mind. Was it experience? Habit? Or… did she truly fall in love? I shook my head, forcing myself not to dwell on it. Such needs were only natural. Moreover, I had been ill for so long; she was bound to have needs that had to be met. Amelia took care of me all day, practically on her feet constantly; she was already exhausted enough. If she couldn’t even get a moment of mental relaxation, then I would be too harsh on her. Despite trying to convince myself of this, when I thought that the man was Kris Essen, and the fact that Amelia might not love me as much anymore, I still couldn’t control my irritation. Unconsciously, Amelia had already returned to the building next door. She went upstairs and opened Kris Essen’s front door. She saw Kris lounging on the sofa, clad in a silk robe with an open collar. Amelia’s pupils widened slightly. Her gaze lingered on his toned abdomen. Her throat involuntarily bobbed up and down. I turned my head away, no longer watching. In the past, Amelia wouldn’t have even glanced at such a scene. But now, she was clearly captivated. Kris Essen seemed to have anticipated her reaction. He walked up to her, grabbed her collar, and pulled her into his embrace. Amelia stumbled, falling against Kris. After a brief, lingering hug, she pushed against the wall to straighten up. Kris leaned close to her ear and whispered, “Why the act of modesty? You weren’t like this in bed before.” He paused. “Or perhaps you don’t like this place today? True, we’ve tried every spot in this apartment; it’s getting a bit boring. How about this: it’s very close to Summer Bloom’s balcony. We could climb over there, right in front of him. Wouldn’t that be more exciting?” Amelia subtly recoiled, her brow furrowed, and said coldly, “Don’t be ridiculous.” She insisted, “Leo must not know about me and you.” I keenly picked up on her wording. I instantly understood her meaning. It was “cannot,” not “do not want to.” Perhaps she had considered giving up on me, considered confessing the truth to me. But she was coerced by the so-called life-saving grace. Bound by past vows of love. Repeatedly suppressing the restless thoughts in her heart. Duty and guilt had triumphed over retreat. She had to be the responsible, patient good girlfriend. My heart turned completely cold. The love I thought I had… had long since withered away with the worsening of my illness, gradually eroded by Amelia’s increasing care. Kris Essen, naturally, understood the underlying meaning that I could grasp. He flashed a satisfied smile. One hand wrapped around the back of Amelia’s neck, pulling her close. His other hand unbuttoned her shirt. Amelia’s collarbone was covered in a dense pattern of red marks, stinging my eyes. Kris lowered his head, burying his face in her neck. Amelia bit her lip, her brows furrowed, seemingly enduring pain. When Kris finally lifted his head again, a fresh bite mark appeared on her collarbone. Kris’s finger pressed on it, causing Amelia to flinch back with a slight gasp. “That’s your punishment for refusing me,” he said. “I’m in a good mood today, so I won’t make it hard on you, but don’t let there be a next time.” He dragged Amelia into the bedroom, pushed her onto the bed, and then leaned over her. Cupping Amelia’s face, he said, “The thought of you spending every day with Summer Bloom, it pains me a little.” He sneered, “With him looking like that, what’s the difference between living and being dead?” He continued, “Don’t you get disgusted watching his shriveled, deformed legs every day?” Kris made a face of disgust as he spoke, as if he completely forgot that during that stage accident, I saved more than just Amelia. I saved him too. Though I suspected he had intended to disrupt my focus and see me make a fool of myself that day, and though I hated him because of him, I lost my father, in that instant when the accident happened, I had only one thought. Kris was the person my father had risked his life to save. That was my dad’s dying wish; I didn’t want, and couldn’t allow, that hope to be dashed. So I pushed them both away with all my might. The result was an outcome more cruel than my father’s. Because I couldn’t bear to betray Amelia’s love and hope, for these past three years, I had barely been able to live, yet unable to die. And the person I had personally saved was now verbally humiliating my body and physically stealing my beloved. I gritted my teeth, clenched my fists, and raised my hand to slap him, but my hand passed right through his face, unable to even create a gust of wind. Amelia opened her mouth. Before she could speak, Kris Essen’s apartment door was suddenly knocked upon. “Open up! Police! We need to ask some questions.” The two exchanged a look, straightened their clothes, and after confirming the officers’ identities, opened the door. “Someone jumped from a building and committed suicide in your complex. Did you hear anything just now?” Upon hearing this, Amelia’s face immediately changed. Perhaps thinking of the sounds from earlier, she seemed lost in thought for a moment. I began to feel a glimmer of hope. Maybe she had thought of me, maybe she still cared. Seeing the police about to question her further, Kris immediately cut in, pointing to the paused movie on the TV. “My girlfriend and I were watching a movie! A horror film, with lots of background noise.” He continued, “We’re both easily scared, but we love watching them, so we covered our ears and closed our eyes in many parts.” He clutched his chest. “See, just now, your knocking startled me.” He faked a scared expression. The police nodded, then turned to knock on other doors. I floated in mid-air, a bitter smile playing on my lips. Amelia, if you knew it was me who died, would you still help Kris Essen lie? Or were you just afraid of a commotion, afraid of waking me, who was supposedly sleeping soundly? Between me and Kris Essen, she ultimately chose the latter. Seeing the police leave, Kris’s eyes gleamed with excitement. “How about we take advantage of this dark, stormy night and do something thrilling?!” “What?” Amelia hadn’t fully recovered her senses. Kris was quite displeased with her reaction and pushed her away. “Still thinking about Summer Bloom even when you’re with me?” “He’s sick. My concern is only natural.” Kris scoffed. “Stop acting! Do you dare say you haven’t thought of me when you’re with me?” He growled, “If you truly cared about him that much, you should hate me as much as he does, instead of moaning happily in my bed!” Amelia clenched her fists, wanting to retort. But she found that Kris was right. She had nothing to say. I looked at her, laughing with a few tears. See, everyone saw it clearly. Even Amelia knew her own heart. Only I, from beginning to end, was treated like a fool, kept in the dark. After a long silence, Amelia changed the subject. “What did you say you wanted to play just now?” Kris didn’t argue with her, simply going along. “How about we try at the crime scene? I bet you’ve never tried that!” Amelia resisted repeatedly, but eventually couldn’t withstand Kris Essen’s combination of hard and soft tactics. The two crept downstairs, immediately noticing the police tape surrounding the building. The on-site investigation was still underway. Police officers shone flashlights, searching for evidence in the vicinity. Kris Essen pulled Amelia, heading straight for the small path next to the building opposite. After confirming no police noticed them, Kris pushed Amelia into the grass. The complex’s landscaping was well done; every building, front and back, had waist-high bushes and dense trees. The dark shadows they cast became a natural curtain in the night. Kris Essen eagerly reached his hand into Amelia’s clothing. Not forgetting to whisper in her ear, “It’s so close to the crime scene here. You’ll have to keep it down later, okay?” He added, “Wouldn’t want the police to find out.” Amelia’s ear tips were bright red. Just as she was about to tilt her head up to meet Kris Essen’s kiss, her peripheral vision caught something sparkling on the ground across the way, illuminated by a flashlight. Curiosity compelled her to squint, carefully discerning what it was. Suddenly, her breathing hitched, and her mouth dropped open, but no scream escaped her lips. She had seen it clearly. It was a ring on the hand of the corpse. It was a matching set with the one on her left ring finger.

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1 Heart racing to share my pregnancy news, I stood outside the door—until David’s voice stopped me cold. To his squadmate, he mocked me as “used goods” and a burden. His entire pursuit had been a calculated strategy: his true love, Ivy, had her sights set on my ex-husband Silas, and since I refused to sign the divorce, David married me to keep me in check. All his “protection” was just surveillance to prevent me from disrupting Ivy’s plans. The final blow was his forged paternity test, ready to brand my unborn child illegitimate so he could discard me guilt-free. Memories flooded back to five years ago, when I’d slept with David out of spite after catching Silas with Ivy. Their resulting brawl ended their friendship and pushed me into marrying David. For five years, he played the doting husband, shielding me from other men and convincing me I’d found happiness. But now, hearing him laugh, I realized it was all a meticulously crafted lie. I wasn’t his wife; I was a pawn in his game to please Ivy. I couldn’t listen to another word. When my senses finally returned, I was standing in the biting wind outside the military base. The ultrasound printout that was supposed to hold so much joy was now just a pathetic joke. My hands would not stop shaking. My phone screen lit up suddenly. A new text popped up. [Sweetheart, training ended early today. What do you want for dinner? I am cooking.] A laugh ripped from my throat, but the tears fell fast and heavy. My chest felt like it had been impaled by a combat knife. I squeezed my eyes shut. When I opened them again, the desperate hope in my eyes had died, leaving behind a cold, desolate wasteland. I opened my contacts and sent a message to Commander Brooks. [Commander, I heard the joint task force in Alaska needs a strategist. I am requesting a transfer.] Then I dialed the base medical center. “I need to schedule an abortion. As soon as possible.” I lowered my eyes, a faint, bitter smile tugging at the corners of my lips. David would probably never know that the marriage certificate we framed was a complete fake. This time, I could walk away without a single trace. 2 I do not know how I made it back to our base housing. The moment I pushed the door open, David was sitting in the living room. Seeing me, he immediately stood up. His eyes carried that familiar, gentle warmth. “You are back? I made chicken soup. Have some while it is hot.” I did not refuse. I sat down and forced two spoonfuls down my throat. His phone suddenly lit up on the table. I glanced at it instinctively, and my entire body froze. [David, that soup was way too salty. I do not want it. Give it to your wife like a good boy.] The timestamp was twenty minutes ago. The rich broth in my bowl instantly turned to ash in my mouth. I dropped the spoon, bolted into the bathroom, and hovered over the sink, dry heaving violently. David followed me in, gently rubbing my back. “What is wrong? Are you getting sick?” I slapped his hand away. “Do not touch me. We are sleeping in separate rooms tonight.” By the time I woke up the next morning, David was already gone. I drove alone to the base medical center for the first surgery slot of the day. The doctor looked over my chart, her expression grave. “Nora, your uterine wall is incredibly thin. If we proceed with this termination, it is highly unlikely you will ever conceive again. You need to think this through.” I nodded, my voice barely a whisper. “I am sure. Do it.” The procedure was quick. I grabbed my prescription painkillers and headed for the exit. Right at the doors, someone crashed into me. The impact was not heavy. But my body was so weak from the surgery that my legs gave out, and I collapsed onto the concrete. My forehead smashed against the edge of the steps. Black spots danced across my vision. I struggled to lift my head and finally saw the person standing over me. Ivy. She clutched her stomach and dropped to the ground, her face pale as a ghost. “Ivy!” Two figures sprinted over at the exact same time. Silas reached her first. He grabbed her shoulders, his voice frantic with worry. Right behind him was David. He was clutching a stack of medical charts in one hand and a bag of premium fruits in the other. All of Ivy’s favorites. “Silas… my stomach hurts so bad…” Ivy leaned into Silas’s chest, her eyes welling with tears. Without a second thought, Silas scooped her up in his arms and bolted toward the emergency room. David was half a step too slow. His extended hand hovered uselessly in the air. A sharp, pulling pain erupted in my lower abdomen. Cold sweat drenched my forehead. Just as I braced my hands against the ground to stand, a heavy canvas sack was thrown over my head from behind, trapping me in darkness. Before I could even scream, a heavy combat boot slammed into my stomach. The blinding agony choked the sound right out of my throat. I curled into a tight ball. Through the thick fabric, I could barely make out David’s voice. It was cold, ruthless, and entirely devoid of mercy. “Drag this blind bitch out to the back lot. Teach her some manners. Not just anyone gets to bump into her.” Several military police officers grabbed the sack and dragged me across the rough asphalt. I had just walked out of surgery. I was wearing a thick beanie and a surgical mask. He had no idea it was me. I thrashed and fought, but a heavy boot pinned me to the dirt. A tactical baton slammed mercilessly into my spine. The guards chatted casually as they rained blows down on me. “Commander David really goes all out for Ivy. Someone just bumps into her and he snaps. I bet his actual wife does not even get treated this well.” “Obviously. Did you know about that brutal disciplinary hearing years ago? The one where Nora caught those ninety nine strikes from the baton? David was the one who personally requested that punishment from the top brass.” “Yeah, he even ordered them to use the heavy steel batons. Said he wanted to punish her for dragging out the divorce and making Ivy unhappy.” A bomb went off in my skull. That brutal punishment, the one that nearly left me paralyzed five years ago… David was the one who asked for it? And I, like an absolute fool, had viewed him as my savior. The last faint flicker of light in my eyes finally went out. 3 When I opened my eyes again, I was lying in an infirmary bed. Through the glass window on the door, I could vaguely see a row of guards kneeling in the hallway. “You useless trash! You could not even recognize my wife?” The door was pushed open gently. David walked in, the violent rage still lingering around his eyes. Seeing me awake, he crossed the room in three long strides, his voice dropping into a soft, soothing hum. “Nora, you are awake? I already dealt with those blind idiots. Are you still hurting?” He reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear, but I turned my face away. His fingers froze in the air. He let out a heavy sigh. “It is my fault. It was so chaotic out there, I did not recognize you with the mask on. I am so sorry you got hurt. Hey, didn’t you always want to go to that private retreat in Florida? I told the operations desk to clear my schedule for the next few weeks. I will go with you, okay?” I just stared at him, my throat dry. “There is no need.” “You care about Ivy so much, why don’t you go keep her company?” David’s expression stiffened. “I know you do not like her. But her father is the four star general at the Northern Command. Our joint military drills depend on this alliance. If something happens to her, the whole operation falls apart.” “Besides… she is pregnant now. Whatever bad blood we had in the past should be buried. You cannot possibly still be obsessing over her and Silas. Have some perspective.” A ball of pure fire twisted in my chest. Before I could speak, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. It was the logistics department. “Nora, your transfer request to the Alaskan border has been approved. You can report for duty early next month.” David had exceptional hearing. The moment the word request came through the speaker, his brows knitted together. “What request?” “Nothing.” I murmured a quick thank you into the receiver before looking back at him. “Just a colleague’s shift change.” A few days later, I was discharged. I had spent the entire night perfecting my speech for the Joint Forces Defense Tech Summit. The auditorium was packed with military contractors and brass. Cameras were set up in the front row. I took a deep breath and prepared to walk up to the podium. Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the hall were kicked open. David marched down the aisle, his boots echoing loudly. He stepped onto the stage, grabbed my wrist in a crushing grip, and glared at me with a terrifying, icy fury I had never seen before. “Nora, did I not say the past was swept clean? You married me. Why the hell are you still begging Silas to take you back?” “Let go of me!” I winced at the pain. “Begging who? I have no idea what you are talking about.” Before I could finish, a sharp slap struck across my face. Ivy appeared on the stage out of nowhere. Her beautiful face was twisted with disgust and absolute triumph. “Still playing dumb? Fine! Someone put it on the screen so everyone can see what a desperate slut she really is behind closed doors!” A few guards stepped up to the control panel. With a few clicks, my presentation slides vanished, replaced by a series of text message screenshots. [Silas, I truly love you. I do not care about David at all. Please, let us get back together.] [What is so great about that bitch Ivy? She is just a homewrecker. When you get tired of her, you will realize I am the better choice!] The words were vulgar and sickening. Scattered between the texts were several provocative, half naked mirror selfies. The face was cropped out, but the body shape was almost identical to mine. A collective gasp echoed through the auditorium. I violently tore my wrist out of David’s grip. “I did not send those! I am calling military police right now!” I pulled out my phone to dial, but Ivy suddenly clutched her stomach. Her face drained of color, and she stumbled backward. David moved like lightning, catching her in his arms. Leaning against his chest, Ivy took a few weak breaths. Then she pointed a shaking finger at the massive screen. “Wait. The woman in these photos has a crescent moon scar right above her breast. Nora, you claim this is not you?” “Then take off your shirt and let us check.” Two heavy set guards stepped forward and forced me to my knees. I looked up, my eyes burning red as I stared right at David. “Do I have a scar there? You know my body. Tell them.” David frowned and shook his head. “Nora, Ivy is pregnant. Her blood pressure cannot take this stress. Just let her check, and it will be over. Besides, if rumors spread that you are harassing your ex husband, your career is over anyway. Clearing it up right here is the fairest thing for everyone.” He gave the guards a slight nod. They lunged forward and brutally ripped my uniform blouse open. I fought with everything I had, but my body, still recovering from the surgery, betrayed me. I was completely exposed from the waist up. The entire auditorium stared in dead silence. My chest was perfectly clear. There was no crescent moon scar. Camera shutters clicked frantically. The harsh flashes blinded me. Those stares cut into my bare skin like rusted blades. What was supposed to be the proudest presentation of my career had been twisted into a public execution. Ivy went entirely limp and fainted on the spot. David abandoned all logic. He scooped her into his arms, threw down a cold order to take his wife home, and sprinted out of the hall without looking back. 4 They escorted me back to the empty house. The disciplinary notice was already in my inbox. Suspended pending investigation. Overnight, my reputation was slaughtered. I had absolutely nothing left. I dragged myself up, opened the nightstand drawer, and found the sleeping pills the military doctor had prescribed. I poured a massive handful into my palm and raised my hand to my mouth. The bedroom door slammed open. David charged in and smacked the bottle out of my hand. “Are you insane? Do you want to die taking that many?” I let out a soft laugh, though tears were streaming down my face. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted?” During my darkest years with Silas, I suffered from severe insomnia. I survived purely on those pills. It was David who had slowly pulled me out of that swamp, staying up with me night after night until I was finally clean. Now, he was the one shoving me back into the abyss, and the fall was much farther this time. David locked his jaw. “Enough. The misunderstanding was cleared up, wasn’t it? You used to pull this pathetic sympathy act on Silas, but it will not work on me. Stop being dramatic.” I could not hold it back anymore. I swung my arm and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. The sharp crack echoed in the bedroom. He turned his head slowly. A bright red handprint blossomed on his cheek. A flash of pure rage ignited in his eyes, but when he saw my red, hollow eyes, he held his tongue. Right then, his phone rang. He answered it, listened for a few seconds, and all the color drained from his face. “Guards! Get in here and hold her down!” Two military police officers rushed into the room, grabbing my arms and pinning me forcefully onto the sofa. A freezing chill crawled up my spine. David’s face was grim. “Ivy passed out again. Her pulse is dropping, and she is hemorrhaging. Silas brought in that holistic guru his family trusts.” “The guru said your dark energy is too heavy. It is poisoning the baby. We need to bleed the bad energy out of you to break the curse.” “No!” I thrashed violently against the cushions, but the men pressing me down were built like tanks. I could not move an inch. A combat medic stepped forward, holding a sterile tactical blade. The first slice cut deep into my forearm. Dark red blood welled up immediately. The sharp, searing pain made the room spin. The second cut went into my right hand. The third on my calf. The fourth. My struggling grew weaker and weaker. My face turned the color of ash. Blood dripped steadily from my limbs, turning the olive green sofa a sickening shade of black. Nineteen cuts. They finally let me go. I slumped against the cushions, drenched in my own blood, my breathing so shallow it was almost entirely gone. David looked down at my ruined, pathetic state from his high ground. After a long moment, he let out a soft sigh. “Nora, Ivy is carrying a child. You need to be more forgiving. I arranged a spot at the Florida retreat for you. You can stay there until she gives birth, then I will bring you back. You always wanted a kid, right? When this is over, we can have one of our own.” “Rest up. I need to get back to the hospital.” He did not look at me again. He ordered the medic to bandage me up and hurried out the door. The moment the heavy front door clicked shut, the very last spark of life inside me vanished forever. I sat there like a broken marionette, letting the medic wipe the blood and wrap the gauze tightly around my fresh wounds. Suddenly, my phone screen lit up. A text from Commander Brooks. [Nora, I heard what happened today. Do not worry. I have your back.] [Now, come with me.] A tear dropped onto the glass screen, blurring the words. With trembling, bloodstained fingers, I typed a single word. [Okay.] An hour later, covered in bandages and smelling of iodine, I stood in the terminal of the international airport. David’s assistant called. “Ma’am, your flight to Florida is booked. Do you need a driver to pick you up?” “No need.” I stared out the massive windows at the grey, weeping sky. My voice was eerily calm. “Do me a favor. Take that metal box I left on the kitchen counter and give it to David. And… do not call me Ma’am anymore.” I hung up and walked through the security gates. It was over. David, your lies end here. And I am walking into my new life.

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1 The day Phill and I signed our marriage papers, his boys suggested we go live on stream to share the moment with our followers. I smiled and agreed. I held up the freshly signed documents, showing off our happily ever after to the camera. Right then, Phill’s childhood bestie, Beth, rolled out a massive tiered cake. The two of them exchanged a secret, knowing look. Just as Beth opened her mouth, supposedly to wish us well, a vicious force slammed into the back of my head, shoving my face buried deep into the cake. A blinding pain ripped across my forehead. The hidden plastic dowels supporting the cake tiers had sliced my skin open. Sweet vanilla frosting mixed with warm, metallic blood, sliding down my face. “Surprise!” The whole room erupted into roaring laughter. The camera stayed dead focused on my humiliating, messy state. The live chat exploded, scrolling faster than I could read. Phill affectionately pinched Beth’s cheek. “Happy now? The boys really pulled through for your little dare.” He chuckled. “Even hijacked my own wedding for it. See, Beth? Now you know who spoils you the most.” Only then did he casually turn his gaze to me, using that condescending tone reserved for a toddler. “Oh, come on. We are just messing around.” I stared at the ruined cake splattered across the floor. Without saying a single word, I ripped our freshly signed marriage certificates into tiny, useless shreds. Frosting choked my throat. I could barely breathe. Laughter, jeers, camera shutters clicking. It was pure chaos. The stream was going viral. Within minutes, my humiliating photos and the hashtag about my ruined wedding were trending number one. My phone blew up with calls from my agency. And the mastermind behind it all was hiding behind Phill, her voice trembling, her face completely devoid of any real guilt. “I think Malika is mad at me…” “It is all my fault for losing that dare. The guys just felt bad for me and wanted to help…” My custom gown, the one I waited six months for, was ruined. My hair and makeup, which took three hours starting at dawn, were destroyed. It felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. My overflowing joy turned into nothing but pathetic, hollow sorrow. Phill draped his suit jacket over my shoulders to cover the mess, but then he saw my red, swollen eyes. He froze. “Are you actually crying?” “If it bothers you that much, we can just throw another wedding. Okay?” “I promise the next one will be even bigger.” The Phill from the past was never like this. At eighteen, he was a broke kid who emptied his pockets just to take me to a bridal boutique. He carefully smoothed out the train of a dress I tried on, promising to give me a beautiful, proper wedding one day. At twenty eight, as a successful entrepreneur, he bought me a designer gown, holding me like I was his entire world, promising a lavish ceremony as soon as his company stabilized. Now, at thirty three, Phill shattered our promises and spat on his vows. He gave me the most humiliating wedding imaginable. Smack. I slapped him across the face with everything I had. The room went dead silent. His friends scrambled to cut the live feed, tripping over their words to apologize. “Sorry, Malika.” “We just wanted to cheer Beth up…” Phill wiped a drop of blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes flashing with irritation. “Why are you taking this so seriously?” “Wedding ceremonies are boring anyway. I let Beth have a little fun to lighten the mood. Why are you picking a fight with a kid?” “You were never like this…” I whispered. Beth always loved playing cruel pranks on me. She stomped on the flowers Phill bought me, ruined our anniversaries. She orchestrated hate campaigns in my comment sections, causing me to lose hundreds of thousands of followers. She even mixed poison ivy extract into my perfume, giving me a full body rash so I would miss a massive brand deal. Every time, Phill would stroke my hair and say he would teach her a lesson and that she was just being immature. But his punishments were always empty threats. A loud bark with absolutely no bite. “Phill! Beth’s dad saved your life, but that does not mean you get to enable her like this!” I screamed. “She has no basic decency! She is a brat!” Beth buried her face in his chest and wailed. “I miss my daddy…” “Malika!” Phill snapped at me. “Do not cross the line!” “Do you think poking at her trauma makes you a better person?” I choked back my tears. I never imagined he would protect her with absolutely zero boundaries. “You really think she did nothing wrong?” Phill instinctively opened his mouth to defend her. “Fine,” I cut him off. “Since you cannot see how messed up this is.” “Then we are done.” “We are over.” I went home, hid in the bathroom, and cried until I was numb. Then I scrubbed my face, packed away my emotions, and started dealing with the catastrophic mess. My boss, Marcus, screamed at me over the phone. “You turned your own wedding into a circus!” “Meme photos everywhere! You have been trending for three hours. The brand sponsors are blowing up my line. Terminated contracts, penalty fees, it is a disaster!” “Do you have any idea how much money we are losing?” The crisis meeting lasted until four in the morning. The living room was pitch black, lit only by the cherry of a cigarette burning down to my fingertips. Nicotine numbed my frayed nerves. I watched the wedding video over and over, trying to figure out what to say to the public. How to spin my absolute humiliation into a funny joke. How to pretend my tears meant nothing. “Heh…” I let out a self deprecating laugh and collapsed against the sofa. The last time I was this exhausted was when I was paying off Phill’s bankruptcy debts. I livestreamed day and night, testing toxic skincare products until my face broke out in chemical burns, doing eating broadcasts until I got a stomach ulcer. All just to earn those daily payouts to ease his stress. Eventually, my account blew up. Phill bounced back, too. But the very first thing he did when he got rich again was bring Beth right back to his side to live the high life. Meanwhile, I was still stuck under a predatory contract with my agency. Swallowing Marcus’s empty promises at work, and Phill’s empty promises at home. I was so incredibly stupid. Fifteen years. Gone in a flash. By my thirtieth birthday, Phill had consumed half my life, my youth, and my brightest years. I grabbed my phone and opened Beth’s socials. She had recently posted a celebration for her two thousand day snap streak with Phill. They ate a seven tier cake, set off fireworks, and rented out an entire theater for a midnight fairy tale play. Phill only ever showed his playful, childish side to Beth. With me, he complained that those things were too immature. [Could not sleep, so my Phill took me stargazing.] That was her latest update. The photo showed them on a mountain peak, the city lights glittering below. She was sitting on his shoulders. I blinked, not even realizing my tears were sliding down my temples into my ears. The updates kept rolling in. [Late night hot springs.] A picture of their heads leaning close together in a private pool. [Breakfast made with love by Phill.] Eggs fried in the shape of a little cat. Dawn broke. My mom’s name popped up on the screen. “Malika, sweetie, did you sleep okay?” “I am fine, Mom.” She hesitated for a few seconds. “Malika, about your wedding yesterday…” “Mom, it was all scripted!” I forced a bright laugh. But the damn tears poured out uncontrollably. “It was a marketing stunt by the agency. I am totally fine.” My mom let out a heavy sigh of relief. “I knew it. I kept saying there was no way Phill would ever treat you like that.” I bit my lip to muffle a sob. “Yeah.” “Phill loves you the most. You have to cherish him.” “Yeah.” The words felt like broken glass in my throat. The screen went black, reflecting my tear soaked face. Mom, the Phill who loved me the most is gone. He disappeared a long time ago. I changed my clothes and headed straight to the agency. I took several deep breaths before pushing open Marcus’s office door. “I am sorry…” “It is handled,” Marcus said, crossing his legs. “Phill paid off every single one of your breach of contract fees.” “Do not let this happen again.” “Go prep for tonight’s stream. You need to salvage your image. If you do not hit your sales quota, I really will ship you off to the European branch.” I pressed my lips together. After a long pause, I spoke. “Send me to Europe.” Marcus sat up straight. “Are you serious?” The company had expanded overseas a few years ago. Signing that transfer meant a twenty year commitment. Most top streamers avoided it like the plague. I had wanted to go back then. But Phill refused to do long distance. I had been so naive, telling him he could just expand his own company and come with me. Phill stammered for a long time before finally saying Beth was staying in the city and she could not survive without him. Then he held me and begged me not to leave, saying he could not survive without me either. So, I gave up the opportunity. Thinking about it now made me sick. He used his tears to trap me. And years later, at our wedding, he let my tears shatter against the floor without a second thought. “If you go, you are the Vice President of the London branch.” Marcus pulled out the contract. “Sign it if you are sure.” I signed my name without a hint of hesitation. “Good,” he smiled. “You fly out next week. Go wrap up your loose ends.” I went back to my studio. While prepping the products for tonight, I scrolled through the online drama. The narrative had flipped. Someone had dug up Beth’s secret accounts. All her targeted bullying, her attempts to seduce Phill, and her passive aggressive posts flaunting their weird relationship were dragged into the light. [She is so shameless! He has been with his girlfriend for fifteen years, why is she playing the third wheel?] [She is a pick me girl! She loves being surrounded by guys and destroying relationships. It is disgusting!] [Poor Malika.] My fans flooded Beth’s comments, demanding an apology. Before I could even scroll to the bottom, Phill’s name flashed on my screen. The second I answered, he exploded. “Did you orchestrate this?!” “Malika! How could you weaponize your fans to cyberbully Beth!” I could hear a girl sobbing violently in the background. “Yes, she went too far yesterday. She messed up your work. But I already paid your penalty fees! Why will you not just let her go!” I let him scream. I listened as he made endless excuses for Beth, minimizing the devastating damage she caused me into a simple, harmless mistake of a naive child. “What about when Beth started rumors about me, intentionally sending her trolls to attack me?” I asked him quietly. “She incited a mob. They cornered me offline. In the chaos, someone slapped me so hard it ruptured my eardrum.” “I was so afraid you would worry, I never told you.” “Phill, to this day, I am completely deaf in my right ear.” “Does my pain mean anything to you at all?” Dead silence on the other end. “That cannot be true…” “Beth!” Phill barked at her. “Did you not say it was just a harmless prank?” The girl burst into hysterical wailing. “I… I just made a joke in the comments… I did not know people would actually go after her…” My head was pounding. I hung up, put my phone on silent, and tossed it into my drawer. I felt a suffocating, heavy exhaustion and a faint, dull ache. It was not until early evening, right before I went live, that I checked my phone again. Phill had texted me. [Malika, just quit streaming.] [I will take care of you. Let us get married. I will give you all my credit cards, okay? I will hire the best specialists in the world to fix your ear.] Then came the real motive. [Beth accidentally hurt you, and I will make sure she gives you a proper apology.] [But please, just issue a public statement clearing her name first. Apologize to the fans to calm them down.] [We need to stop the cyberbullying immediately.] I only replied with two words. [Keep dreaming.] The scandal was boiling over. When I went live, the chat was a warzone. Phill logged into the stream, desperately trying to defend Beth amidst the relentless wave of insults. Marcus’s voice crackled through my earpiece. “You need to address this right now, or no one is going to buy a single thing.” I stared directly into the camera lens. I plastered on my brightest, most professional smile. “My boyfriend and I have officially broken up. Please do not worry about my personal life anymore.” The chat went nuclear. [Oh my god! So Beth really is the homewrecker!] [Trash man! Trash girl! Malika deserves better!] My phone lit up with rapid fire texts from Phill. “When did I agree to a breakup?” “Are you insane?” “Are you trying to completely destroy Beth’s life?” “I promise I will keep my distance from her from now on. Just clear her name, please!” I ignored him and continued showcasing the lipstick. “Forgive me, Malika. I have no other choice.” Phill started dropping massive donations in the stream. Within seconds, he shot to the number one viewer spot. Using the premium VIP chat effects, he broadcasted his message to millions of viewers. [Beth is my girlfriend.] The message faded. He dropped another massive donation. And another. I stared blankly at the glowing gold text taking over the screen. My fingers went slack. The expensive glass perfume bottle hit the floor and shattered into pieces. [Beth and I have been together for years. We are very happy. Please leave us alone.] [And I would appreciate it if the streamer stopped using our relationship for clout.] [Anyone who continues to slander Beth will be hearing from my lawyers.] Phill dropped tens of thousands of dollars to fabricate a fake innocence for Beth. He did not hesitate to erase our entire past. He completely denied our years of survival, our struggles, and the purest, most passionate love we ever shared. Fifteen years meant absolutely nothing to him. My world went completely silent. I opened my mouth, but all I could taste was copper. It felt like a giant, invisible hand had reached into my chest, violently crushing my heart and tearing my sanity to shreds. It ripped the boy I loved most right out of my universe, leaving behind a barren, scorched wasteland. The harsh studio lighting offered no place to hide my breakdown. I covered my face and broke down sobbing in front of millions of people. It was an unbearable, suffocating agony. The kind that destroys all logic and rips you apart from the inside out. The studio plunged into chaos. “Block the camera!” “Cut the feed! Cut everything!” “She passed out! Someone catch her!” The stream died. I was rushed to the hospital. When I finally opened my eyes, Phill was standing by the window, talking on his phone. “Is Beth okay?” “She is not threatening to jump off the balcony again, is she?” “Malika collapsed. I am stuck at the hospital. Go handle the PR. Make sure you suppress everything on the internet.” “I do not care what it costs. Do not let a single negative word reach Malika’s ears.” I buried my face in the stark white blanket, desperate for even a fraction of safety. My mind was flooded with the final comments from the stream. People calling me delusional. Saying I made up a fake relationship for clout. Saying I was the homewrecker trying to steal Beth’s man. Netizens had scoured Phill’s social media. All they found were pictures of Beth. I did not exist in his digital world. I knew it all. “Phill,” I croaked softly. My vision blurred as I stared at his back. “Does your conscience hurt at all?” He whipped around. He hung up the phone, rushed to my bedside, and crouched down to my eye level. “Malika, I had no choice.” “Beth was getting death threats. She was about to jump off a building. I owe her my life, I could not just watch her die…” I raised my arm. Smack. The IV needle tore out of the back of my hand. Drops of blood splattered against Phill’s cheek as his head snapped to the side. “So I am the one who has to be sacrificed?” I was so tired. Tired of enduring. Tired of turning a blind eye. Tired of holding onto fifteen years of memories while letting him cross the line over and over again. I had spent my whole life begging Phill for an answer he was never going to give. So, I swallowed the thousands of words screaming in my throat. There was no point in speaking anymore. No more torture. “…Just go.” “Let us pretend we never met.” Phill’s pupils shrank. He frantically reached for my hand, but I pulled away. “Malika, please, just give me a little more time.” “When this blows over, I will release a statement! I will give you the most beautiful wedding in the world! We will be happy again!” I had heard these lies far too many times. And I had believed them far too many times. “I swear! I will put you first from now on! I will do whatever you want! I owe you too much, I will never…” His phone rang, slicing through his desperate vows. A frantic voice screamed through the speaker. “Phill! Beth is crying hysterically! She wants to see you!” “She is super unstable, you need to get here right now…” A bitter smile touched my lips. I reached out and gripped Phill’s forearm. “Did you not just say you would do whatever I want?” “Then I want you to stay.” Crashing sounds erupted from the phone. “Phill! She is climbing onto the window ledge!” Phill panicked. He violently yanked his arm out of my grip, jumped to his feet, and sprinted out the door without looking back. It was exactly what I expected. I did not try to stop him again. I grabbed my phone and dialed Marcus. “Move up the transfer.” “I am booking my own flight. I am leaving tonight.” Phill threw money at the platforms to erase the trending hashtags and censor the keywords. But he could not stop people from talking. Wearing a mask, I stood at the boarding gate. As I walked through the terminal, I heard the whispers. “I bet there is a plot twist to this drama.” “It is so messy. Apparently, this is not the first time Beth has pulled this. She is a total mean girl. She bullied several of the guys’ girlfriends out of the group. The victims are speaking out.” “They dated for fifteen years, and Beth ripped them apart.” “That guy is trash anyway. Keeping his options open like a coward.” I lowered my eyes and pulled my mask up higher. Hearing those words did not even cause a ripple in my chest anymore. My phone buzzed repeatedly. Texts from Phill. [Malika, you are not at the hospital? The nurse said you left.] [Where are you? Did you go home? I bought your favorite soup.] [Just answer the phone, please. We need to talk.] I did not reply. I powered off my phone. The plane accelerated down the runway. The glittering city lights shrank into tiny sparks before being swallowed entirely by the dense clouds. I reclined my seat and buried my exhausted body under the thin fleece blanket. Fifteen years felt like a long, agonizing fever dream. It was time to wake up. I was ready for my new life.

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The rivalry between Smith and me started back in high school. His father was the man who wrecked my mother’s marriage, leaving a permanent, unbridgeable chasm between us. So, when I found out the lead investor for our new project pitch was Stella Lancaster, I already knew the outcome. She is my wife, but Smith is the ghost of her past. He is the one who got away, and I knew that better than anyone. When the pitch results were announced, Stella handed the golden branch straight to Smith, exactly as I expected. He walked up to me, his tone dripping with unconcealed smugness. “Even if you married her, so what? In her heart, I will always be number one.” “Everything you bleed to achieve is handed to me on a silver platter.” I followed his gaze to where Stella stood a few yards away. Suddenly, a wave of sheer, bone deep exhaustion washed over me. I was done. I did not want to play this endless game of tug of war anymore. This time, I choose to let go. Rather than letting a hopeless marriage drain the life out of me, I was going to focus on my own empire. 1 The new investor was stunning. Her looks, her ruthless competence, and her elite family background had already sparked a wildfire of gossip across our floor. The investor was Stella Lancaster. My wife. The moment I saw her name on the executive brief, I knew my silent war with Smith was already lost. In the breakroom, my coworkers were whispering furiously over their coffees. “Did you hear? The CEO of Summit Peak is heading the investment this time. Stella Lancaster herself.” “She is a literal goldmine. If she picks our team’s design, we will not have to worry about our quotas for the next five years.” “Honestly, Smith’s team is probably going to bag it. Word on the street is that Smith is her college sweetheart. Her first love. She is only investing in Nova Design because he works here.” Hearing those words made my chest tighten. I walked back to my desk like a hollow shell. The news of Stella’s arrival had taken over the office. Our department director, Harrison, called Smith and me into his office. “Rob. Smith.” “Stella Lancaster from Summit Peak is funding this cycle. I want both of you to lead your teams and draft a concept. You have one month to submit your final pitches.” Harrison gave Smith a long, meaningful look, his eyes practically shining with approval. It was obvious Harrison had heard the rumors too. He knew exactly why Stella had chosen our firm. Before I even stepped out of the office, I knew my team’s grueling work would be for nothing. Competing against Smith meant I was just there to be the sacrificial lamb. Out in the hallway, Smith stopped in his tracks. We stood face to face. I met his gaze, and he offered a slight smile. It was arrogant, bright, and completely infuriating. “May the best man win, Rob.” But his eyes said he had already won. He knew exactly who Stella would choose. I watched him walk away with that confident stride before turning on my heel. The design department was basically throwing a parade for him. If my team’s proposal got rejected, I would be demoted to working under Smith. I would have to swallow my pride and take his orders. I refused to bow down to him. Right before clocking out, a crowd formed around Smith’s desk, showering him with praise. “You are incredible, Smith.” I looked at him through the sea of people. He was the center of attention, surrounded by warmth and laughter. In contrast, my corner of the office felt bitterly cold. I stood alone. He caught my eye and smirked. I looked away, grabbed my trench coat, and walked out into the chilly evening air. 2 Stella got home late. Her expression carried its usual detached, untouchable grace. Despite everything, I could not stop myself from asking. “Stella, did you invest in my company?” She looked up at the sound of my voice. Her eyes met mine, calm and unreadable. She gave a soft hum of confirmation. “Why Nova?” I pushed. I forced a casual, joking tone. “Are you going to give your husband a backstage pass?” Stella’s brow furrowed slightly. She looked entirely serious. There was not a trace of humor in her striking eyes. She paused for a moment. “It was a board decision. I do not make the final call on the proposals alone.” Her underlying message was crystal clear. Being her husband gave me absolutely zero privileges. I did not press any further. She was always like this. Cold, pragmatic, operating entirely on her own strict logic. She never bent the rules for me. And like a fool, I constantly humiliated myself by hoping I could be her one exception. Stella turned away and walked into her home office. The heavy mahogany door did not click shut all the way. I could hear the low murmur of her voice on a phone call. The voice echoing faintly from the speaker was Smith’s. Stella would occasionally let out a soft, low laugh in response to whatever he was saying. When the call ended, she pushed the door open. She walked to the entryway and pulled her coat off the rack. Slipping into her camel trench and sliding on her leather heels, she stood tall and looked back at me. “I have a business dinner. I need to head out.” I just nodded. Stella was breathtaking. She had sharp, aristocratic features, a high nose bridge, and perfectly sculpted lips. Her tailored suit underneath the trench coat made her look powerful and commanding. The heavy front door clicked shut behind her. She came home very late that night. Any questions I wanted to ask died in my throat the moment I saw Smith’s newest post on Instagram. It was a group photo. Four people. Smith, Stella, and two of their old college friends. Staring at that picture, I realized my question was pointless. I wanted to ask Stella if she would favor Smith. The answer was already staring me in the face. I used to leave a warm lamp on in the living room whenever she had late dinners. Tonight, I turned off every light in the house and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. When I woke up, Stella and I barely crossed paths. We left for work separately. At the office, the entire department treated Smith like royalty. Everyone knew the truth. If it were not for Smith, Stella would never have looked twice at our firm. My bad blood with him was my own problem. My coworkers only cared about their annual bonuses and hitting their quotas. Today, Stella arrived at the office for an investor walkthrough. Director Harrison immediately summoned Smith to escort her. When Smith finally returned to the floor, all eyes locked onto him. “Smith, is CEO Lancaster super intimidating in person?” Smith’s lips curved upward. His answer was deliberately vague and intimate. “I have known Stella for a long time. She is not intimidating at all. You guys can relax.” The junior designers exchanged knowing, excited smiles. I had already read every single detail of Smith and Stella’s college romance online. If I were not Stella’s husband, I probably would have thought their youthful love story was beautiful too. But reading the compilation of their history, painstakingly put together by their old classmates, only left me with a mouth full of ash. Smith still had an old, active Twitter account from college. It was a digital diary of their romance. I used to torture myself by scrolling through it late at night. The more I read, the more I realized how fiercely Stella had loved him. She would read every single one of his mundane tweets, liking and replying to them. She was the one who chased him first. It took me a full year of relentless pursuing just to get Stella to look my way. When I first found out Stella’s ex was Smith, a sick thrill had run through me. I thought I had won. I thought it was the ultimate revenge against him. But I quickly realized I had lost, brutally and completely. The fact that my wife still harbored feelings for her ex was not a victory. It was the ultimate humiliation. It just gave Smith another way to crush me under his heel. 3 Smith and I had been sworn enemies since middle school. We were like fire and ice, completely incompatible. His father manipulated his way into our home. The stress and betrayal broke my father’s health, sinking him into severe depression. I almost lost my dad entirely. In high school, Smith followed me again. He was one point short of getting into the elite prep academy, so my mother, Victoria, pulled strings and paid off the board to get him in. That same year, my father left the country to recover in a private sanatorium. I was left behind in the Kensington estate. I thought if I acted out, if I was cruel enough, Smith and his father would take the hint and leave. My tactics were not clever. Honestly, they were stupid. I tried to poison their tea with black ink. I wanted to terrify them, to mark my territory. Instead, Smith went straight to my mother playing the victim. Victoria’s face turned dark with fury. She cornered me and berated me for being a monster. I hated them, but I never had it in me to do real, permanent damage. Everything I did only made my mother feel worse for Smith and his father. By college, I was finally at a different university. The final nail in the coffin of my relationship with Victoria came during my freshman winter break. She took Smith to a high society gala instead of me. When people asked, she did not even deny it when they assumed Smith was her biological son. She even mentioned changing his last name to Kensington. I told her if she let him take our family name, I would drop it entirely and take my father’s name, Reed. Her eyes burned with rage. She raised her hand, ready to strike me across the face. But a tall, imposing figure stepped in and caught her wrist. That person was Stella. After graduation, our paths crossed again. I spent an entire year chasing her. Just when I was on the verge of giving up, she finally said yes. It was only after we signed the marriage papers that I found out Smith was her ex boyfriend. She had even visited the Kensington estate before, formally introduced as Smith’s girlfriend. When my mother found out Stella and I were married, her face drained of color. She clutched her chest, struggling to breathe. “Did you do this on purpose?” she gasped. “You knew she was his ex. Did you marry her just to spite him?” I was paralyzed. During the holidays, I refused to go back to the estate. But Stella insisted. She dragged me back. The moment we walked through the doors, Smith and I got into a physical altercation in the courtyard. We both lost our footing and fell hard. Stella reacted purely on instinct. She lunged forward and caught Smith, holding him up. I hit the concrete. Later at the hospital, with red, stubborn eyes, I asked Stella why she did not catch me. She calmly peeled an apple, not even looking at me. “I did not see you.” When Stella stepped out of the hospital room, Smith walked in. He looked down at me in the hospital bed, a victor’s smile on his lips. He spent the next ten minutes recounting every beautiful detail of his college life with Stella. He painted a picture of a warm, passionate Stella that I had never met. My heart felt like it was being crushed in a vice. After I recovered, I found myself trapped in the same orbit as him again. We ended up at the same design firm. We were constantly at each other’s throats. He weaponized his status as the heir to the Kensington Conglomerate to make management bow to him. And now, he had the added armor of being the lead investor’s unforgettable first love. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on. I knew my pitch was doomed. But I still pushed my team to work overtime, perfecting every single detail of our proposal. A month later, I walked into the executive boardroom holding my portfolio. Everyone was seated. Except Smith. He walked in a moment later, side by side with Stella. The morning light from the floor to ceiling windows hit them perfectly. Stella occasionally tilted her head up, matching Smith’s height, listening intently to whatever he was whispering. 4 Her profile was sharp against the projector’s light. Her dark eyes held a faint, rare smile. When her gaze accidentally flicked to mine, I searched her eyes, desperate to find some hidden emotion. But there was nothing. Just that same chilling, detached indifference. We drew lots for the presentation order. I was up first. I walked to the podium, perfectly composed, and pulled up my slides. I poured my heart into the presentation, breaking down every inspiration and structural concept. I was completely immersed in the work. When I stepped down, the applause was painfully sparse. The only person clapping with any real enthusiasm was Noah, a bright eyed kid who had been my intern since he graduated. Stella’s face was completely blank. No one could read her. Director Harrison kept stealing glances at her, trying to decipher her mood. Then it was Smith’s turn. He walked to the front and naturally locked eyes with Stella. They shared a private, knowing smile. The other executives exchanged glances, barely hiding their gossip fueled grins. Noah leaned over to me and whispered anxiously, “Rob, are we going to lose this?” I forced the corners of my mouth up into a rigid smile. When Smith finished, the room erupted. The applause was deafening compared to mine. Harrison clapped so hard his face turned red. A faint, unmistakable smirk touched Stella’s lips. We took a thirty minute recess. Lately, the suffocating rumors about Stella and Smith were draining the air out of my lungs. The way she looked at me was so cold it made my chest physically ache. Listening to the office chatter, I learned even more about their past. Stella had pursued him relentlessly. She waited outside his dorm every morning to bring him coffee. Everyone at their elite university knew how deeply Stella worshipped Smith. I sat frozen in my chair. Watching the backs of Stella and Smith as they walked out of the boardroom together, my nose stung. The woman I had bled to win over was harboring the soul of the man I hated most in the world. The boardroom emptied out until only Noah and I were left. Noah gave my arm a comforting squeeze. The thirty minutes were up. The results were in. Stella and the executives from Summit Peak had already left the building. Harrison stood at the head of the table to announce the verdict. There were three deciding votes. All three went to Smith. When the words left Harrison’s mouth, my eyes burned. A hot, pathetic dampness threatened to spill over. I bit the inside of my cheek and forced the tears back down. Harrison shot Smith a look of pure, validating triumph. A crowd immediately formed around him. “Smith, you are an absolute god!” I packed up my laptop and walked toward the exit, a solitary shadow in a room full of celebration. Smith caught up to me in the hall. “Rob.” I stopped. His eyes were bright with mockery. “Even if you are the one married to her, I will always be her priority.” “Everything you break your back to get, I can have just by reaching out my hand.” He was right. When we were fourteen, he effortlessly stole my mother’s love. Now, he effortlessly occupied my wife’s heart. Down the hall, Harrison was kissing up to Stella by the elevators, treating her like royalty. Suddenly, the fight drained out of me. I did not want to compete with Smith anymore. And I did not want Stella anymore, either. The elevator doors remained open. Harrison spotted us and practically begged Smith to join them in the elevator. I had no choice but to step in too. The heavy metal doors closed. The car descended. Harrison immediately started his usual brown nosing. “CEO Lancaster, you and Smith are such a powerful match. Truly a match made in heaven.” A few other managers chimed in eagerly. “Exactly! We heard rumors that you two were already married. You are so supportive, coming all the way to our firm just to back your husband’s project.” I listened to their sickening flattery in dead silence. My heart did not even skip a beat. It was just numb. I felt a heavy, burning gaze lock onto the side of my face. I turned my head. Stella’s face had gone completely rigid. Harrison nudged my arm, silently ordering me to play along. “Right, Rob? Do not they look perfect together?” The elevator dinged. The doors slid open. I looked calmly into Stella’s eyes. “Yes. A perfect match.” Panic flashed through her usually icy eyes. Her lips parted slightly, as if she was desperate to say something. 5 I stepped out of the elevator and walked away fast. Behind me, a low, urgent voice rang out. “Rob.” I did not hesitate. I did not stop. I pushed through the lobby doors and escaped the crowd. The tears I had been swallowing down finally clawed their way up my throat. The suffocating weight of my grievances broke me. When I was fourteen, my father had a mental breakdown and was committed to a facility because my mother was sleeping with another man. I was terrified and lost. When Stella blocked my mother’s hand from striking my face, I thought she was my savior. But everything I fought desperately to hold onto slipped through my fingers and flowed straight to Smith. My luck was always just one step short. I hid in my car in the underground garage and broke down completely. Once the tears finally stopped, my vision cleared. Stella’s tall figure appeared in the dim light of the parking garage. She was walking fast, her heels clicking aggressively against the concrete. Just as she reached out for my door handle, I slammed my foot on the gas and tore out of the garage. I drove straight to the Kensington estate. Neither Victoria nor Smith’s father was home. The sprawling mansion was dead quiet, save for a few maids. The bedroom I had grown up in had long been seized, completely remodeled into Smith’s personal sanctuary. I grabbed my passports, my financial documents, and a few valuable heirlooms. The entire house was infested with traces of Smith and his father. On the desk in the study sat a framed photo of Smith’s college graduation. I looked away. When Victoria first found out I married Stella, she exploded. She accused me of sacrificing my own marriage just to get back at Smith. If I had known Stella was his ex, I would have just assumed she had terrible taste in men. I would have tossed her into the same garbage bin as him. As I walked out of the grand double doors, I ran straight into Smith. He leaned against a marble pillar, looking at me with pure amusement. “Rob.” “It is boring fighting you. You know why? Because I can take whatever you want without lifting a finger.” “Your dad lost to my dad. You lose to me. It runs in your blood.” “I heard you chased Stella for a year? Half the guys on campus were obsessed with her back then.” “But she was known as the Ice Queen. Completely untouchable.” “Yet with me? I do not have to do a single thing, and she will always take my side.” “It was true four years ago, and it is true today.” In Smith’s eyes, Stella was gentle, fiercely loyal, and devoted. In my eyes, she was cold, ruthless, and entirely indifferent. Smith’s old tweets were a brutal reality check. Only after seeing how Stella loved someone else did I realize she never loved me at all. Smith loved playing the social media game. We only added each other on messaging apps after we started working at the same firm. Stella would occasionally like his random, mundane status updates. Sometimes she would even leave a comment. I had started a massive fight with her over it once. She just frowned, looking at me with total disdain. “Rob, why are you always targeting him?” I was so furiously heartbroken I could barely string a sentence together. Did she not know what boundaries were? All I wanted was for her to choose me. Just once. Smith’s voice snapped me back to reality. “Rob, you can never beat me.” “The woman you love? I was the one who taught her how to love.” “I even took her first kiss.” I just smiled faintly and walked past him without a word.

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My life took a devastating turn when I was eighteen. I fell madly in love with Mike Maxwell, a thirty-five-year-old widower. To be with him, I abandoned the ballet career I valued more than my own life and turned down a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to study in Paris. I even ignored my parents’ furious warnings and tearful pleas, ruthlessly cutting all ties with them. But then, the fantasy shattered. I caught Mike red-handed, holding another woman in his arms. They were laughing without a care in the world. I heard him whisper in her ear that girls who danced ballet were just a bit more flexible, and that after marriage, all women were exactly the same. He told her I couldn’t even compare to her little finger. Watching that scene, I didn’t throw a hysterical fit. I didn’t shed a single tear. Taking a page right out of his playbook, I turned around and became the sugar mommy of a handsome, young college student named Declan. Everything was perfect until one night when Declan got dead drunk. Through his slurred, drunken haze, I heard him call Mike “Uncle.” He mumbled, “Uncle, I did exactly what you asked. I played with her feelings. You better treat Phoebe like a goddamn queen from now on.” Those few words felt like a bucket of ice water, completely waking me up from years of delusional dreaming. I finally made my decision. Mike or Declan, it didn’t matter. Both of these men made me absolutely sick to my stomach. 1 “You have to treat Phoebe right and make her happy for the rest of her life. Otherwise, I swear to God I’ll take her far away from here! If it weren’t for Phoebe, there is no way in hell I would have ever helped you with this.” Having said his piece, Declan looked entirely drained. He slumped at the table, downing his drink gulp after bitter gulp. A satisfied smirk crept onto Mike’s lips. His gaze flicked toward me for barely a second before darting away. “Relax. Phoebe is the first woman in this world to ever show me what real love tastes like. She taught me how to love, and I will never let go of her hand as long as I live.” “I only asked you to play this little part because I was worried Sylvia was too obsessed with me to ever agree to a divorce. I just didn’t want my Phoebe to suffer even the slightest grievance.” I lay quietly on the velvet sofa, faking a deep, drunken sleep. But my heart plummeted into an endless abyss. A biting cold seeped into my veins, freezing my limbs completely numb. Mike had once poured those exact same sweet words out to me, holding nothing back. He had held me so tight, his eyes swimming with deep affection and regret. “Sylvia, it’s such a tragedy we were born at the wrong times. We are seventeen years apart. Will you ever resent me when I get old?” Back then, I was totally blinded by the honey trap of love. I fought my parents to the bitter end and turned a deaf ear to my friends’ desperate warnings. “Mike, I am in love with who you are, not your age. We are going to be the happiest couple in the world!” I sounded so incredibly determined back then. Looking back now, it was absurd to the point of being sickening. To force me into asking for a divorce, he carefully orchestrated this entire scheme, bringing in his own nephew to run a romance scam on me. Could there be a more grotesque joke in this world? “Sylvia loves you? Hah! I just fed her a few sweet nothings and took her out for a couple of joyrides, and she is already dead set on me! Just watch. The second I mention marriage, she will slap those divorce papers right in your face tomorrow morning.” “A woman like Sylvia, who falls for whoever gives her the time of day, isn’t even worth a strand of Phoebe’s hair. She actually genuinely believes I am obsessed with her! It’s hilarious!” Declan laughed out loud, completely unbothered, entirely missing the way Mike’s face instantly darkened. Declan’s gaze swept over my body with undisguised mockery. After making sure I was still passed out, he turned back to Mike. “You really think I’d treasure the used trash you got bored of? It’s just a game. Honestly, touching her makes me feel filthy.” The moment those words hit me, a sharp ache shot up my nose, and my eyes inevitably welled up. My chest felt so tight I could barely breathe. When Declan and I first met, he knew perfectly well that I was a married woman. Back then, he would blink those innocent, clear eyes and gently pull me into his embrace. His eyes were always swimming with heartbreaking tenderness. “Your husband clearly doesn’t know how to cherish you. I don’t care that you are married. I just want the right to quietly stay by your side. Can I?” That day, I stood completely frozen for a long time. Even after I wandered home in a daze and mechanically cooked dinner for Mike, my chest still burned from the heat of his hug. It had been so many years. The heart that had long died inside that frigid marriage felt like it was finally beating again. Later on, every time he saw me, he brought a bouquet of vibrant red roses. I tried to push them away, tried to decline, but he would just forcefully yet gently press them into my arms. “Sylvia, it’s just a few roses. I only hate that I can’t give you more right now. Once I finally take over the business, I swear I’ll buy you an entire rose estate!” Roses. How long had it been since I last received them? Ever since I married Mike, whenever I hinted at wanting flowers, he would shoot the idea down with the most half-hearted excuses. The only exception was the night he finished celebrating Phoebe’s birthday and casually tossed a withered, dying rose onto the table in front of me like it was garbage. Because of that, when Declan approached me with such burning passion, I grabbed onto him like a drowning woman clinging to driftwood, refusing to miss out on love again. But looking at it now. That decision was fatally stupid. I was just a laughingstock to him, a toy to be used and tossed aside. The truth was far too cruel. Mike didn’t stay in the private room much longer. Shortly after, Declan carried my body out to leave early. By the middle of the night, I was burning up with a high fever. My head was splitting, and in a dizzy, spinning haze, I was rushed to the hospital by Declan. By the time I finally forced my heavy eyelids open, it was already the next morning. Faint sounds of giggling and flirting drifted in from the hallway. Through the glass window on the door, I caught sight of two highly familiar figures. Declan was breathing heavily, pinning Phoebe tightly against his chest. He lowered his head and planted a deep kiss on her cheek. “Phoebe, what on earth are you thinking? How could I possibly fall for Sylvia? What does she have that could ever compare to you? I am pushing through the disgust to do all this just for you. You heartless little tease, how are you going to make this up to me?” A stunning blush immediately spread across Phoebe’s cheeks, and she gave Declan a playful glare. Then, she stood on her tiptoes and carefully, seductively kissed him on the lips. “Come over to my apartment tonight, okay? Your uncle went out of town on a business trip. I will make sure to reward you properly tonight. You know how it is, Declan. My heart loves Mike, and I want to be his legal wife, but my body and my passion will always belong entirely to you.” Declan’s breathing instantly grew heavier. After they finished their nauseating display of affection outside, Declan slowly straightened his wrinkled shirt collar and pushed open the hospital room door. Seeing that I was awake, a fleeting panic flashed in his eyes, but it was replaced by flawless concern in the blink of an eye. “Sylvia, you’re awake? How are you feeling? Does anything still hurt?” I kept my lips pressed tightly together, saying nothing. My eyes were dead-set on the faint red hickeys peeking out from beneath his collar, a violent bitterness flooding my mouth. So the things I heard last night were not just a bad dream after all. Seemingly noticing my unusual stare, Declan very naturally pulled his collar up a bit, leaning in to pinch my cheek with a grin. “Why the long face? Did you black out? You got completely wasted last night and started gnawing on me like crazy. The marks on my neck still haven’t faded. When exactly are you going to take responsibility for me?” My stomach immediately did flips, and my already pale face lost whatever color it had left. He had used this exact same excuse countless times before. Almost every single time he spent the night at my place, he would wake up the next morning with fresh red marks all over his neck and collarbones. He would always look at me with a suggestive, teasing smirk. “Sylvia’s stamina was incredible last night. Look at all your trophies on me. Are you satisfied with your masterpiece?” Deep down, I never really believed it. All my old friends knew I was a happy sleeper when drunk, never the type to go crazy or lose control. But the evidence was always right there in front of me. So every time, I would be teased into a blushing, utterly mortified mess. And Declan would only take it further, pulling me tightly into his arms and pressing a highly restrained kiss to my forehead. “So, when are you going to make me an honest woman? Sylvia, I really want to marry you and tie myself to you for the rest of my life.” I used to think those words were the absolute pinnacle of romance and happiness. Knowing the truth now made it feel incredibly nauseating. I couldn’t hold it in anymore. I leaned over the edge of the bed and started dry heaving violently, my ghostly pale face turning beet red from the strain. Declan was clearly stunned. A flash of genuine worry crossed his eyes. He snapped out of it, hurriedly rubbing my back while frantically pressing the call button for the doctor. His anxious act was absolutely bulletproof. “Sylvia? What’s wrong? Is your stomach acting up again?” Meeting his worried gaze, I zoned out for a split second. Declan. Your acting belongs in Hollywood. By the evening, my high fever finally broke. Declan was incredibly sweet as he stayed with me through dinner, but then put on an apologetic face, claiming a sudden company emergency required his immediate attention. His face was a picture of heartbreaking guilt. “Sylvia, I am so sorry I can’t stay here at the hospital with you. The moment I handle things at the office, I promise I’ll sprint right back to you, okay?” I put down my water glass and locked eyes with him. Deep down in the darkest corner of my heart, I still held onto one last, pathetic shred of hope. “But Declan, today is our three-year anniversary. You promised me you would spend it with me.” He was the one who always initiated our anniversaries. Every single time, he would cancel all his meetings and social events just to focus entirely on me. I used to worry that his impulsive behavior would give his rivals ammunition in the family business, but he always acted like he couldn’t care less. “I am just completely helpless when it comes to you. I am more than happy to be the man in the shadows. Let people talk. In this world, the only opinion that matters to me is yours.” “Sylvia, what the hell is work anyway? How could it ever compare to a single strand of your hair? Being with you is the most important thing in my life.” Those words used to make me want to laugh and cry at the same time. They melted my heart into a puddle, warm and burning. I hadn’t felt that kind of unwavering, devoted preference in years. But this time, Declan frowned slightly, a visible trace of annoyance flashing across his features. His tone became stiff and dismissive. “Sylvia, can’t we just celebrate it in a few days? Be reasonable. This project is life or death for me, and I cannot afford to drop the ball at a critical moment.” “Just be good, okay? I will come straight back to you the second I am done.” He didn’t even leave me a second to argue. He grabbed his coat from the chair and walked out of the room without a single backward glance. I sat quietly on the bed. It wasn’t until the air in the room had completely turned cold and dead that I slowly raised my hand to wipe away the dried tears on my cheeks. That last, pathetic sliver of hope finally vanished into thin air. “Declan, I won’t be waiting for you anymore.” Declan never came back that night. The next morning, however, Mike called me out of the blue. His tone was incredibly nasty, his impatience radiating right through the phone. “Sylvia! Where the hell is Phoebe? Didn’t I explicitly tell you to set up a room for her at the house? Did you pull your lady of the house routine and kick her out again? How can you be this petty? Where is a young girl like her supposed to go out there!” “All I asked was for you to help out and cook her a warm meal! Could you not show even a shred of decency to a young girl? When did you become so vicious?” When it came to Mike, I had long since run out of tears and expectations. After all, his countless, blatant affairs over the years had ground whatever fiery love I once had for him into dust. I had dragged out signing the divorce papers purely out of a sick sense of revenge. I maliciously thought that as long as I refused to give up my title, Phoebe would remain nothing but a dirty little secret in the shadows. But now, I was truly exhausted. I didn’t want to play this disgusting game for another second. “Mike, let’s get a divorce.” I hadn’t absorbed a single word of his harsh accusations, nor did I care to. The line went dead silent. It took him a full thirty seconds to find his voice again. “What, couldn’t handle the loneliness and found yourself a new toy? Or did you actually fall for some random guy? Sylvia, is this another one of your games to play hard to get? Using divorce as an excuse to force me to the negotiating table and beg you to stay? Aren’t you tired of this routine?” “How many times do I have to repeat myself? The only woman I will ever truly love is Phoebe!” I couldn’t even be bothered to argue. I actually found his clownish behavior incredibly funny. Didn’t he set up this entire trap himself? How did he have the nerve to play the victim of betrayal now? I simply gave a calm sound of agreement, coldly stated a time to meet at the courthouse for the paperwork, and hung up without hesitation. When Declan rushed to my house, the first thing he saw was the signed divorce agreement laid flat on the table. Joy practically exploded across his face. He didn’t even try to hide the fresh hickeys on his neck or air out the pungent scent of women’s perfume clinging to him before leaning in close. “Sylvia! You finally decided to go through with it?” I nodded expressionlessly. His smile grew so wide it nearly reached his ears. “This is absolutely perfect! Once you are officially single, we won’t have to sneak around like thieves anymore! You’ll marry me then, won’t you? I swear, I will never let you suffer even a fraction of what your ex put you through!” “Sylvia, you have no idea how happy I am!” Looking at Declan’s beaming face, I couldn’t help but let a small smile curl my lips too. Because once those papers were filed, my future would be scrubbed entirely clean of both of these scumbags. Mike disgusted me. Declan made me want to throw up. I didn’t see Mike in person until the day we finalized the paperwork. For some reason, he looked incredibly grim, a dark storm brewing in his eyes. “Did you really fall for someone else? You’re in such a rush to dump me just so you can marry another guy? Sylvia, your so-called true love is pitifully cheap.” I shrugged indifferently, my face a mask of absolute calm. My complete dismissal seemed to instantly ignite Mike’s temper. He took two aggressive steps forward, invading my personal space. “I am warning you one last time! Playing hard to get won’t work on me! You better actually sign those papers! If you try to pull any stunts in there, I will ruin your life!” “And from now on, Phoebe is my legal wife! After this is done, you will personally apologize to her! If you hadn’t kicked her out, she wouldn’t have had to suffer in a hotel! You are deeply manipulative!” I treated his words like absolute garbage. I pushed open the glass doors of the building first, walked straight to the counter, and slapped my ID down. Before the clerk could even go through the standard questions, I spoke up. “I am absolutely certain. I want a divorce.” The process was faster than expected. With no property disputes holding us up, it was a breeze. Before long, the certificate of freedom was resting securely in my hands. The moment I stepped out of the building, I noticed two incredibly flashy luxury cars parked by the steps. One was Declan’s sports car, the other was Phoebe’s ride. Declan hurried over the second he saw me, a massive grin on his face. “Sylvia! Congratulations on your freedom! I came specifically to pick you up to celebrate! I already booked first-class tickets to Paris. Let’s leave today!” At the same time, Phoebe pushed her car door open. Like a fluttering butterfly, she threw herself straight into Mike’s arms, completely ignoring the public setting. “Mike! I’ve waited for you for so long! Does this mean I get to officially be your wife today? My heart was practically breaking from the wait!” Standing on the steps watching this play out, I actually felt a twinge of admiration. All three of them knew exactly how filthy this whole setup was, yet they could still act with such raw, convincing emotion. But mostly, it was just a physiological urge to gag. To complete their supposedly pure, elevated romance, they had effortlessly offered me up as a sacrificial lamb. Could the world get any more absurd? I wasn’t going to give them what they wanted. I slightly shifted my body, coldly dodging Declan’s hand as he reached for mine. His smile froze instantly. Behind me, I could clearly feel Mike’s piercing gaze locked onto my back. “Sylvia, what’s wrong? You finally got rid of that guy, aren’t you happy? You always said you wanted to marry me. The man you truly love is me.” Mike let out an incredibly grating sneer. He deliberately held up his divorce certificate, sporting the smug look of a victor. “Sylvia, we are legally finished. Let me give you a piece of advice. Don’t stick to me like chewing gum anymore. You were acting so aloof inside. What, the moment you step outside, you’re already dying to take it back?” “Sylvia,” Phoebe’s voice was sickeningly sweet, yet laced with hidden venom. “Please, stop trying to steal Mike from me. We are soulmates. Doesn’t Declan love you too? We both get what we want. Isn’t this the perfect ending.”

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My welcome home party turned into an absolute joke. After five years together, my girlfriend finally showed up, completely late, with a frat boy trailing behind her. The kid didn’t even hesitate. He looked me up and down with a smug smirk. “Man, doing a Ph.D. overseas takes forever. You’re getting pretty old, aren’t you?” He let out a dry, mocking laugh. “At your age, not being married… doesn’t your family get anxious?” Then came the venom. “Oh, wait. I forgot. Your parents are dead.” My face turned stone cold. But Nina, the woman who had always been my gentle anchor, just chuckled and ruffled the kid’s hair. She looked at me with zero remorse. “Noah is young. He doesn’t know any better. Be the mature one, Oliver. Don’t take it personally.” Later that night, near the patio fire pit, I caught Noah pinning her against the brick wall, kissing her hard. He growled against her lips, “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a breathless moan. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” Eventually, I let her go. I walked away and married someone else, exactly like she wanted. I never expected her to fly across the Atlantic, stay awake for days, and drop to her knees in front of me, sobbing. “Please. Please marry me.” 1 But that came later. The nightmare started at the party. Nina had texted the group chat saying she was running behind. The guys at the bar nudged my shoulder. “Nina is probably picking up some insane welcome back gift for you, man!” I just smiled, nursing my beer, imagining exactly how I was going to pull her into my arms. Three years of a long distance relationship while I was studying in Europe had almost driven me insane with missing her. Two hours later, as the bartender was calling last orders, Nina finally strolled in. Except she wasn’t alone. She had a younger guy glued to her side. I took a step toward her, but my boots froze to the floor. The silver engagement ring that belonged to me was currently gleaming on Noah’s index finger. The guys around me went wide eyed. Ben leaned in and whispered to Nina, “Are you out of your mind? Why did you bring him?” Nina waved it off like it was nothing. “What is the big deal? Noah wanted to come, so I brought him.” She noticed my eyes locked on the ring. A flicker of panic crossed her face, but she quickly masked it with a casual shrug. “Your ring was just sitting in the drawer collecting dust. I let Noah wear it for fun. You do not mind, right, Oliver?” I stood there, paralyzed. That was the ring she used to guard with her life. If anyone even touched her jewelry box, she would throw a fit. Looking at the woman standing in front of me, I felt like I was staring at a stranger. The sweet, affectionate girl I left behind would never speak to me like this. Noah caught my gaze and threw the ring onto the floor like a piece of trash. “Sloppy seconds from an old guy. Keep it. I do not want it.” The silver band bounced against the hardwood and rolled straight into the glowing embers of the fire pit. Nina did not even glance at the flames. She immediately grabbed Noah’s hand, inspecting his fingers with frantic worry. “Are you okay? Did you hurt your hand?” My body moved on instinct. I hunched over, reaching toward the heat to save the ring. Her voice from the night I proposed echoed in my ears. Oliver, I love you. I swear I will love you until the stars burn out. Feeling the heavy stares of everyone in the room, I forced myself to stop. I pulled my hand back. I was not going to humiliate myself any further. 2 My face was completely drained of color. Ben saw my expression and shoved Noah’s shoulder. “Watch your mouth, kid. Apologize to Oliver right now.” Noah scoffed, rolling his eyes. “The guy literally got his own parents killed. I was doing him a favor. Wearing his ring is bad luck anyway.” That was a line nobody crossed. That was the deepest, most agonizing wound in my soul. I could not fathom how Nina could take my darkest trauma and serve it up as gossip to her boy toy. The anger boiled over. I clenched my fist, pulling my arm back to wipe that smug look off his face. Nina instantly threw herself in front of him, shoving her hands against my chest. “What the hell are you doing!” Almost simultaneously, the rest of the guys stepped in, acting as a human shield for Noah. “Relax, Oliver! He just has no filter. Let it go!” “Yeah, man. Noah is a good kid. He did not mean anything by it!” I froze. What a sick, twisted joke. My closest friends and the love of my life were standing in a united front with a guy I barely knew. And I was standing entirely alone. Three years. It only took three years for my entire world to get hijacked. Nina glared at me, her voice sharp and unforgiving. “Are you done throwing a tantrum? Did he say anything wrong? You are the reason your parents died! Am I lying?” She sneered. “You went off to Europe, lived the high life, and forgot everything, did you?” My breath hitched. She always knew exactly where to slide the knife. She was right. If I had not thrown a fit as a kid begging for candy from the backseat, my dad would not have turned around. He would not have taken his eyes off the road. The truck running the red light would have missed us. But the part about the high life? During my three years abroad, I drowned in fear, isolation, helplessness, and crushing poverty. There was no high life. A cold drop slid down my cheek. I realized with a numb shock that I was actually crying. Seeing the tear, Nina’s harsh expression cracked. She took a half step toward me, instinct taking over. But Noah grabbed her wrist, pulling her back. A dozen eyes stared at my pathetic breakdown. The familiar sensation of absolute helplessness washed over me. I turned and practically jogged to the bathroom to splash cold water on my face. I should have seen the signs. Over the last year, our texts had dried up. Our phone calls turned into hurried excuses. We barely exchanged three sentences a week. I could not even remember the last time we FaceTimed. After I got my breathing under control, I walked back out. That was when I found them in the shadows of the hallway. Noah had her backed against the wall, kissing her with bruised intensity. Noah pulled back just enough to speak. “Baby, don’t you dare walk down the aisle with him.” Nina let out a soft, breathy sound. “I’m not marrying that cursed loser. I only want to be yours.” 3 The party died down. People slowly filtered out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. I stared at the screen and answered on autopilot. “Oliver! Why did you fly back to the States? Are you not coming back here?” When I did not answer, the voice on the other end grew frantic. “Talk to me!” My throat felt like it was lined with glass. “I am coming back.” My girl, my crew, they all belonged to Noah now. There was nothing left for me in this city. Harper let out a massive sigh of relief on the phone before her tone shifted. “Are you crying? Where are you? I am booking a flight right now. Wait for me.” The moment I hung up, Nina’s voice sliced through the silence behind me. Her face was dark with suspicion. “Who the hell are you talking to? Is it a woman? Do I know her?” I ignored her and kept walking toward the exit. She lunged forward, grabbing my wrist with a painful grip. She was not going to let it go. I gave her a deadpan answer just to get her off my back. “A colleague from the lab. She needed the passcode for a data file.” That seemed to satisfy her. She loosened her grip and tugged me toward the parking lot. “Let’s go. My parents are waiting for us at home.” It was only then I realized Noah had slipped away unnoticed. My dad and Nina’s dad had served in the military together. They were brothers in arms. After my parents passed, Nina’s family took me in. I grew up in their house. Out of basic respect, I had to go see them. I walked up to her car and opened the passenger door. Sitting right on the seat was a custom cushion embroidered with Noah’s initials. A tacky little crown sticker was slapped on the dashboard. The neck pillow literally said Prince Noah’s Throne. He did this on purpose. He was marking his territory. I stood there for a long moment, debating if I should just sit in the back. Nina looked over at me, her tone defensive. “Don’t sit there. Noah gets super weird about people touching his stuff. Be the bigger person.” She remembered that Noah was possessive over a seat. But she completely forgot that I get violently car sick and can only ever ride in the front. I did not argue. I shut the door and pulled open the back door. The first thing I saw was a crumpled set of crimson lace lingerie kicked under the floor mat. During those two hours she was late to my party… those two hours where I sat checking the door every five minutes with a stupid, hopeful smile on my face… they were sweating all over the back seat of this car. What an absolute joke my life was. 4 When we walked through the front door, Nina’s parents practically tackled me with hugs. “You are home… look at you, finally home.” After the initial warmth and catching up, Nina’s mom grabbed my arm and pulled out a stack of elegant cardstock. “Look, Oliver. Tell me which invitation design you like. I have been obsessing over your wedding details for months!” Wedding? I immediately took a step back. “Mrs. Davis, we are not…” Nina cut me off instantly. She flopped down onto the expensive leather sofa. “Mom, you guys handle the small details. Oliver is jet lagged and exhausted.” I stared at her, baffled. She was talking like the wedding was actually happening. Then what was the plan with Noah? Her parents exchanged a knowing look and laughed. “Girls always side with their men! You used to fly out to Europe to visit Oliver all the time, but now that he is back, you two can finally be together every day!” Nina looked genuinely panicked for a split second and frantically changed the subject. Every alarm bell in my head went off. I pulled out my phone and texted Ben. Hey, can you check Nina’s social media for the last three years for me? In those three years, Nina had never visited me once. Not a single time. Ben replied instantly. Nothing out of the ordinary. Why? I did not buy it. I texted a few other guys from the crew. They all gave me the exact same story. I almost convinced myself I was paranoid. Then I remembered a burner account I made years ago to check a local restaurant’s hidden menu. I logged in and searched for Nina’s profile. An endless wall of photos loaded onto the screen. It was suffocating. Every single post was a selfie of her and Noah. They had been touring the globe. Paris, Rome, Tokyo, Bali. The room started spinning. I felt like I was going to throw up. Over the last three years, I had begged her to come see me. I scraped together pennies hoping we could meet halfway. She always said she was slammed with corporate projects. I waited three years. She had time to travel the entire world with a frat boy. But she could not spare a weekend to jump on a two hour budget flight to see me in a neighboring country. 5 When I first got my Ph.D. acceptance letter, I was going to turn it down. I had zero money. But Nina’s parents were wealthy, and they insisted I go. They liked the prestige of having a doctor in the family. They promised to send my tuition and living expenses through Nina’s bank account every semester. For the first few months, things were okay. Then the money completely stopped. Nina claimed there was a banking issue, then said her accounts were frozen, then just stopped replying. I had to take on three brutal part time jobs washing dishes, tutoring, and hauling boxes just to pay my university fees. Because I was broke, I had to rent a rotting apartment in a neighborhood crawling with junkies and gangs. My build was not exactly intimidating compared to the massive guys loitering on my corner. Every night was a survival game. I locked every deadbolt, wedged a chair under the handle, and pushed my heavy wardrobe against the front door. Even then, drunk men would pound on the thin wood, screaming threats. I used to call Nina in the middle of the night, shaking, just trying to hear a familiar voice to keep the panic attacks at bay. She would sigh into the receiver. “Babe, I am super stressed at the office. Just tough it out. The sun will be up soon.” Then she would hang up. I would sit on the edge of my mattress until dawn, gripping a kitchen knife with white knuckles, too terrified to blink. I kept scrolling through her secret profile. I found the post from that exact night. Younger guys are such babies. My silly Noah is terrified of thunderstorms. Had to cuddle him all night to get him to sleep. Underneath the photo were comments from Ben and the rest of the crew. Hey, that is our boy! Give him some extra love! Protect Noah at all costs! P.S. Make sure you hide this from Oliver. Everyone knew. Every single one of them. And they all covered for her. While I was bleeding myself dry, working until my hands cracked, trying to finish my degree early so I could marry her… she had slowly infected my entire friend group. She turned my brothers into Noah’s loyal soldiers. They boxed me out. I was the punchline to a joke I did not even know was being told. My skin was completely devoid of color. Nina’s mom noticed and assumed it was the jet lag. She told Nina to drive me to our place. I walked like a zombie following Nina into the garage. The moment I saw her car, a violent shudder ran down my spine. The image of the red lace was burned into my retinas. I gritted my teeth and violently ripped my arm out of her grip. “Back off. Do not touch me.” Nina took a deep breath, playing the patient girlfriend. “How else are you going to get home?” I did not say a word. I turned around and started walking down the driveway into the night. I walked step by dragging step. The sun vanished completely. The suburban streets went pitch black. Nina trailed slowly behind me in her car, the headlights casting a long, mocking shadow ahead of me. Years ago, she knew I hated city noise, so she insisted we buy a house deep in the suburbs. I walked for two straight hours. My dress shoes tore the skin off the back of my heels. When I finally unlocked the front door, Nina stormed in behind me, her face twisted with rage. “What the hell is your problem?” “You go overseas for a few years and come back acting like a dramatic, fragile princess!” Who made me fragile? I survived the absolute trenches for three years. I clawed my way out of the mud. I had zero right to be fragile. I ignored her shouting. I just stared at the interior of the house. My quiet study was gone. It was now an RGB lit gaming room packed with high end consoles. The bathroom vanity was cluttered with men’s cologne and skincare brands I did not use. Even the toothbrush holder had a cute little label that read Noah’s Property. This was supposed to be our sanctuary. The home we built. Now, every corner reeked of another man. I was too exhausted to fight. I walked down the hall and opened the guest room door, just wanting a bed. Sitting dead center on the mattress was Noah. He was wearing my father’s wedding suit. I stopped breathing. That suit was the only physical item I had left of my dad in this entire world. My dad used to point at that suit and tell me, When you get married, wear this. And protect your wife the way I protected your mother. That is what makes a man. Now, that sacred fabric was draped over Noah’s shoulders. He had taken scissors to the vintage lining, letting the yellowed fabric fall to the floor. The subtle embroidered details had been ripped out. My dad was heavily built. A soldier. Noah was lanky. So Noah had haphazardly pinned and stitched the fabric to make it tighter. Seeing me in the doorway, Noah gave me a sick, taunting smile and flexed his shoulders, intentionally stretching the fragile seams. A loud tearing sound echoed in the quiet room. The back seam split wide open. Outside, a massive crack of thunder rattled the windows. I flinched. The sound physically broke something inside me. I watched my dad die all over again. I lost my mind. I grabbed a heavy ceramic vase from the hallway table and hurled it at the floor, shattering it into pieces. I screamed until my vocal cords bled. “Who gave you the right to touch that!” “Take it off! Take it off right now!” Noah faked a look of absolute terror and scrambled behind Nina, though I could see the victorious smirk playing on his lips.

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My husband, Carter, had a first love named Jessica. Once, Jessica got into a shouting match with a guy over a minor biking accident. To help her vent her frustration, Carter abused his power as a police captain and threw the man in a holding cell on bogus charges. That petty act of favoritism left the man with a criminal record and a heart full of venom. Sometime later, that same man kicked down the door to my in-laws’ house. He held Carter’s parents and his younger sister hostage with a hunting knife, demanding that Carter show up and apologize. Panicking, I called Carter. But he was too busy picking up Jessica’s son from kindergarten. Not only did he refuse to believe me, but he also cursed me out, calling me a vicious, jealous bitch. He said my lies were pathetic and asked who I was putting this show on for. In desperation, I dialed 911. The emergency dispatcher who answered the call was none other than Jessica. Over the line, she laughed at me. She called me a lunatic, accused me of cursing Carter’s family, and labeled me a psycho. She warned me to never call again, threatening to have Carter arrest me for making a false report. Eventually, the intruder lost his mind waiting for Carter. Right in front of my eyes, he brought his hunting knife down on my in-laws and my sister-in-law. 1 I went to visit my husband’s parents for our usual weekly dinner. The moment I pushed the front door open, I froze. A stocky man in his fifties was standing in the living room, clutching a serrated hunting knife. His wild eyes locked onto me. “Do not take another step! You walk in here, and I kill them all!” On the living room floor, my father-in-law Arthur, my mother-in-law Helen, and my sister-in-law Sarah were bound tightly with thick rope. The man had his heavy work boot pressed firmly against Arthur’s head. Seeing me, Arthur struggled to lift himself up. The man immediately delivered a brutal kick to Arthur’s stomach. “Don’t move! You twitch again, and you are the first to die!” He pointed the bloody tip of the knife at my chest. “Stay back! Who are you? Where is that bastard Carter?” “He locked me up. Because of him, my son got rejected from the military, and my daughter lost her college scholarship. He ruined my entire family. If he does not come here and fix this today, I am going to slaughter his.” It hit me. This was Gary. Jessica had gotten into a minor scrape with him while riding her bike. To play the hero for his ex-girlfriend, Carter used his badge to charge Gary with assault and locked him up. Carter had even bragged about it to me at home. Now Gary was out, and he had come for blood. His screaming echoed down the hall. Neighbors began creeping out of their apartments, crowding the stairwell in absolute shock. Seeing Gary’s hand shaking with rage, I held my hands up slowly. “Gary, please. I am Carter’s wife. Do not do anything stupid. I am calling him right now. I will make him come here.” My hands trembled violently as I pulled out my phone and dialed Carter’s number. When he finally answered, I frantically explained the nightmare unfolding in his parents’ living room, begging him to get there immediately. Instead of panic, Carter’s voice dripped with absolute disgust. “Rachel, are you mentally ill? I am helping Jessica pick up her kid for one afternoon, and you invent a horror story like this?” “Jessica has a shift at the dispatch center today, so I promised to take Tyler to the amusement park. Stop annoying me.” Click. He hung up. Because my phone was on speaker, Gary and every neighbor in the hallway heard every single word. Whispers broke out behind me. “What kind of son is that? He is a cop, and he won’t even save his own family?” “Did you hear him? He is busy playing daddy to another woman’s kid.” “He is worse than an animal. Arthur raised a monster.” Gary’s face twisted into something demonic. Seeing him grip the knife tighter, I dropped to my knees on the hardwood floor. “Please! I am begging you, please do not hurt them!” I slammed my forehead against the floor, ignoring the sharp pain. “I will get him here! Give me a few more minutes, please!” Carter wasn’t answering anymore. I had no choice but to call the station. I dialed 911. The line clicked open. “911, what is your emergency?” The voice belonged to Jessica. Carter had pulled strings to get her a temp job at the emergency dispatch center. I didn’t care who it was. I screamed our address and told her a man was holding Carter’s family hostage with a knife. “Get Carter here now! If he doesn’t come, his parents and sister are going to die!” A cold, mocking laugh echoed through the receiver. “Rachel, have you completely lost your mind? Just to stop Carter from spending time with my son, you are cursing his own parents to die? You really are a wonderful wife.” “The emergency line is not your personal drama hotline. If you fake another report, I will have you thrown in a cell.” The line went dead. The neighbors behind me saw what happened and immediately pulled out their own phones to call 911. Every single one of them was met with Jessica’s threats and hung up on. Realizing Carter was never coming, Gary completely snapped. “Fine! He ruined my family, so nobody gets to live!” Gary grabbed a fistful of Arthur’s gray hair, yanked his head back, and dragged the hunting knife across his throat. Blood coated the living room. 2 Gary ran. After slashing Arthur’s throat, he drove the blade deep into Helen’s chest. Both of them died on the floor. I only managed to throw myself in front of Sarah. In his psychotic rage, Gary wanted to make Sarah suffer. He slashed her face open, then drove the knife straight through her hand, pinning it to the floorboards. He ran out the door waving the bloody knife. The terrified neighbors scattered, completely powerless to stop him as he disappeared into the busy city streets. By the time I got Sarah’s bleeding body into the emergency room, the local police finally showed up at the hospital. Deputy Blake walked up to me. He looked at the harsh red light of the operating room, his face pale with horror. “Rachel, what the hell happened? Why didn’t you call us?” I sat slumped in the corner of the hallway, shivering uncontrollably. “I did. The dispatcher said I was making a fake report.” “I called your captain. He was too busy picking up a kid.” Blake looked confused. “A kid? What kid? You and the Captain don’t have kids.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Not mine. Jessica’s kid.” “She was the one on the 911 line. She told me I was crazy and threatened to arrest me.” Blake slammed his fist into the hospital wall. “This is completely insane! I am calling him right now.” He pulled out his radio phone and dialed Carter’s personal number. When Carter picked up, Blake didn’t hold back. “Carter, where the hell are you!” Carter’s tone immediately turned hostile. “Blake, remember your rank. I am the Captain. You don’t get to interrogate me.” “I am at the airport terminal. Make it quick, I am busy.” “The airport? What the hell are you doing at the airport?” “I have been working too hard, and the station is quiet. Jessica and Tyler have been begging to go to the Bahamas. I took my annual leave to take them on a vacation to relax.” Blake let out a hollow, furious laugh. “Carter, your mother and father are dead. Your sister is currently bleeding out in an operating room. And you are taking a vacation? Is your brain rotting?” Carter scoffed over the line. “Blake, I thought we were friends. I can’t believe you are teaming up with my psycho wife to play this sick joke.” “Do not think I don’t know you guys orchestrated this. What did Rachel promise you to make you curse my family like this?” “I am spending the next few days with Jessica and her boy. Do not call this number again.” The call disconnected. Blake tried calling back immediately, but it went straight to voicemail. The phone was off. At that exact moment, the red light above the operating room flicked off. 3 The surgeon pushed through the swinging doors, peeling off his bloody gloves. “Family of Sarah Winston?” I scrambled to my feet. “I am. I am her sister-in-law.” The doctor looked utterly defeated. “We saved her life. But the laceration on her right cheek was extremely deep. It is going to leave a severe scar. As for her right hand… the tissue and nerve damage was catastrophic. We had no choice but to amputate at the wrist.” “She lost a massive amount of blood. She is in a coma and being moved to the ICU.” In a fraction of a second, every ounce of strength evaporated from my bones. The fluorescent lights blurred, the room spun, and I collapsed backward. A couple of nurses caught me under the arms and guided me to a plastic waiting chair. Sitting there, the tears finally broke loose. Carter and I had been married for five years. I had moved across the country for him, leaving my own family behind. Whenever Carter and I fought, Arthur and Helen always took my side. Sarah treated me like her own flesh and blood. Whenever Carter made me cry, Sarah would literally point her finger in his face and scream at him. They never let me feel alone in that house. I loved them far more than I ever loved Carter. And now, because of Carter’s pathetic ego and his obsession with another woman, he had personally handed his parents a death sentence and mutilated his own sister. I dragged my exhausted body to the billing counter and paid for Sarah’s ICU room. Standing behind the thick glass pane, looking at the vibrant, college-graduated girl reduced to a broken body covered in bandages and tubes, my chest caved in. She didn’t even have her right hand anymore. Blake called Carter’s phone until his battery died. It stayed off. He tried calling Jessica’s number. It rang twice and then went to voicemail. They were fully committed to their romantic getaway. I didn’t have the energy to care about his affairs anymore. Aside from giving statements to the detectives, I had to arrange a funeral for my in-laws and keep a 24-hour watch over Sarah. The gruesome double homicide had already made the local news. The rumor mill was working overtime. I stayed awake for two days straight until Sarah finally opened her eyes. When she saw me through the ICU glass, tears poured down her bandaged face. The doctors warned me to keep her stress levels low, so I lied and told her to focus on healing, hiding the truth about her parents. Three days later, the medical examiner released the bodies. I arranged the cremation. Walking out of the crematorium, I placed two wooden urns on the back seat of my car. I started the engine, looking at the polished wood in the rearview mirror. “Dad, Mom, we are going home.” 4 Sarah was young, and her physical recovery was fast. By the fifth day, she was moved to a regular room. When I finally broke the news about her parents, she didn’t scream. She just stared at the wall and gave a slow, numb nod. I was terrified the shock had broken her mind. “Sarah, please cry. Do not hold it in. I am right here. I am not going anywhere.” She slowly turned her head. She stared into my eyes with a chilling emptiness. A long minute passed before a gut-wrenching wail tore from her throat. I wrapped my arms around her trembling shoulders, holding her tight. “Let it out. I’ve got you.” Because she was sobbing so violently, the stitches on her face tore open. I had to run to the hallway and scream for a doctor. As the doctor methodically re-stitched her torn cheek, Sarah laid there perfectly still. Her calmness was terrifying. “Rachel, where is my brother?” she asked bluntly the moment the doctor left. “Sarah, he…” I stammered, completely lost on how to explain the disgusting truth. “Forget it. You don’t have to say it.” Sarah let out a ragged sigh. “When that guy kicked our door down and tied us up, screaming about my brother, I knew Carter had ruined someone’s life.” She covered her eyes with her remaining hand, her body shaking. “I just never thought he would let Mom and Dad die for it.” I had temporarily placed the urns in my home office. I was waiting for Sarah to be discharged so we could bury them together. She was their daughter; it was her right to be there. As for Carter, I truly did not care if he lived or died. Even if you ignored the two dead bodies and the severed hand, his blatant affair was enough to make my skin crawl. I could never sleep in the same bed as him again. Now, every time I heard his name, all I saw was the gaping wound on Sarah’s face, the ocean of blood on the floor, and the absolute despair in Arthur’s eyes before the knife fell. I sat in silence, holding her shoulder. “Rachel,” Sarah whispered into the sterile hospital room. “After all this, do you still consider me your family?” I nodded hard. “Yes. I will be your sister for the rest of my life. Once you are healed, I will take you to the best plastic surgeons in the country. We will fix your face.” “Rachel, I heard you on the phone that day. I heard everything he said.” Her voice turned to absolute ice. “I want him and that bitch to burn in hell.”

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On our wedding anniversary, I unexpectedly found a pair of provocative lingerie in my wife’s car. Seething with anger, I drove directly to her law firm. As I approached the lounge, I overheard her conversation with her colleagues. “Ms. Shaw always seems so buttoned-up, I never expected her to be so wild in private,” a male voice teased. Another person chimed in, “Didn’t you know? Ms. Shaw and her childhood friend signed an agreement. As long as he’s not married, she has to help him with his ‘needs’.” “Poor Noah Vance, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid,” someone laughed. My wife took a sip of coffee, her tone casual. “It’s fine. He’s been going on dates recently. Once he gets married, I’ll make up everything I owe him.” “Noah’s going to have a rough time after that, hahaha…” Everyone burst into laughter. I clamped my hand over my mouth, barely stifling a sob. 1 Walking down the street, utterly distraught, I couldn’t even remember how I got home. I smashed our wedding photo, staring blankly at the shattered fragments scattered across the floor. I don’t know how much time passed before Amelia Shaw’s voice came from behind me. “Noah, what are you doing?” She walked closer, her brows furrowed as she looked at the broken glass. “I know I’ve been busy with work lately and haven’t had time for you.” She continued, “But didn’t I say I’d make it up to you properly in a few days? Do you have to be like this?” I crouched on the floor, picking up the pieces of the wedding photo one by one. My finger was cut by a sharp edge of glass. A bead of blood welled up, dripping onto the white tile floor like a tiny red flower. I stared at the drop of blood for a few seconds, feeling no pain. My heart had shattered long before my finger. Amelia stood behind me, sighing. She pulled a tissue from the coffee table and offered it to me. “Alright, stop picking it up.” I didn’t take it. She then rummaged through a drawer, found a bandage, and bent down to put it on my finger. “I know I’ve neglected you lately; that’s my fault.” Her voice was soft, and her slender fingers wrapped around mine. “Once this busy period is over, I’ll take you to the Scottish Highlands, okay?” She asked, “Haven’t you always wanted to see the snow?” I looked at her, her expression earnest as she tried to soothe me. I wanted to laugh. And I wanted to cry. Three hours ago, I had heard her colleagues joking in the lounge. “Everyone knows about Ms. Shaw’s agreement with her childhood friend. As long as he’s not married, Ms. Shaw has to take care of his ‘needs’.” And now, she was still putting on an act for me. “Noah, Noah, are you listening?” I nodded. “Yeah, Scottish Highlands.” My voice was so flat it sounded alien even to me. Amelia probably thought I had calmed down and reached out to help me off the floor. Just then, the bedroom door opened. Harold Borle emerged from inside, wearing only a silk robe and rubbing his eyes. His hair was disheveled, his clothes unkempt. There were several glaring red marks on his neck and collarbone. Harold paused slightly when he saw us in the living room. Then he quickly pulled at the lapel of his robe, covering the marks on his neck. But his expression showed no panic at all. In fact, a faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. “Amelia? Noah?” He tilted his head, his voice soft and sweet. “When did you two get back?” Amelia’s face changed. She glanced at me. Then she quickly walked over to Harold, whispering something to him. I couldn’t hear what she said. But I saw Harold pout, tugging at her sleeve, and whispered back, sounding wronged, “But I was asleep.” He added, “It’s all your fault for wearing me out.” As he said this, he deliberately glanced in my direction. My temples throbbed. Blood seeped from the edges of the bandage, dripping down between my fingers. I heard my breathing grow heavier and heavier. That phrase echoed repeatedly in my mind: “Poor Noah, he still thinks Ms. Shaw is frigid.” Frigid. I had been married to Amelia for five years. On our wedding night, she said she was too tired and told me to go to bed early. Every night after that, she was either working late, or entertaining clients, or simply slept in the study. I thought she was naturally low on desire. I was considerate of her, never bringing it up myself. To avoid putting any pressure on her, I even kept myself fully dressed at home. And what was the result? She wasn’t frigid. She just didn’t want to touch me. All her energy and passion were reserved for the man in front of me. I took one step forward. Then another. Harold Borle was still pretending to be innocent behind Amelia. I rushed forward and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp and loud, echoing in the spacious living room. Harold shrieked, clutching his face as he stumbled backward. Amelia’s reaction was faster than I expected. She spun around, shielding Harold completely behind her. Then she turned back to me. Her gaze was so cold it sent chills through me from head to toe. “Noah, what the hell is wrong with you?” She demanded, “Harold was just staying the night; did you really need to hit him?” I stared intently at her back, shielding Harold. Five years. She had never once protected me with such a stance. “Staying the night?” My voice trembled. “Amelia Shaw, look at his neck. And then look at whose clothes he’s wearing.” Amelia’s frown deepened, her gaze avoiding mine. “What nonsense are you talking about?” Harold peeked out from behind her, his eyes red-rimmed, biting his lip in a pathetic display of hurt. “Amelia, darling… you misunderstood…” Harold huddled in Amelia’s arms, his body trembling slightly. He raised his hand, pressing it against his slightly red and swollen cheek. Tears began to stream down. “Amelia, it hurts so much…” He whimpered, “If Noah can’t stand me, I’ll leave right now… I don’t want you two to argue because of me…” His tear-streaked, pitiful act successfully provoked Amelia. Before I could react, she suddenly grabbed my wrist. I felt a tremendous force, and my body was brutally flung backward. My lower back slammed hard against the corner of a cabinet behind me. Intense pain instantly swept through my entire body. I gasped, my legs gave out, and I nearly crumpled to the ground. I gritted my teeth, desperately holding on, refusing to fall. Amelia clenched her fists, her voice cold. “Apologize to Harold Borle.” I looked up in disbelief, my eyes bloodshot. Apologize? Why should I? I practically screamed. “Never!” I yelled. “Why should I apologize to a pathetic excuse for a man who slept with someone else’s wife?” The moment I finished speaking, a flicker of anger crossed Amelia’s eyes. Her face was ashen. “Noah, I know you’ve never liked Harold Borle.” She took a step forward. “But there’s nothing going on between us.” Her thin lips parted, her gaze evasive. “Do you really have to use such vile words to insult him?” “Nothing going on?” “Amelia Shaw, do you think I’m an idiot?” I almost laughed aloud. I turned and walked into the walk-in closet, dragged out a suitcase, and started throwing clothes into it. My hands were shaking, and the items were stuffed in haphazardly. Amelia followed me to the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. “Think carefully,” her voice came from behind me, icy cold. “Once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.” My hand paused. Then I zipped up the suitcase and stood up. “Couldn’t ask for anything better.” Harold Borle’s soft sobs echoed from the living room. As I dragged the suitcase past them, I heard Harold whisper, “Amelia, darling, go after Noah. It’s all my fault…” Amelia didn’t move. I knew she wouldn’t follow. It was raining outside. A heavy rain. I hadn’t brought an umbrella. The wheels of the suitcase rolled through puddles, soaking my pant legs. I didn’t start crying until I walked out of the complex gates. Not for Amelia, but for these five years of my life. So foolish. Truly so foolish. The next morning, I went to the law firm to collect my personal belongings. I had worked as Amelia’s assistant for three years. Calling myself an assistant was a stretch; it was more like doing odd jobs. Serving tea and water, organizing files, greeting clients. The partners treated me as if I were invisible, openly mocking my marriage behind my back. And I, like an idiot, thought they were just being polite to me. The underground garage was quiet. I clutched a bag containing certificates and personal documents, looking down for my car keys. The sound of leather shoes echoed from afar. Clack, clack, clack. I looked up. Harold Borle stood leaning against my car, wearing a white shirt. He looked at me, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Noah, already leaving?” He tilted his head. “What a shame… Married for five years, and you probably never even saw all of your wife, did you?” I tightened my grip on the document bag, walked around him towards the driver’s seat. But he followed, his leather shoes clicking, and leaned close to my ear. “Let me tell you, Amelia is wild in bed.” He whispered, “It always lasts for hours.” He paused, then adopted a look of feigned realization. “Oh, my bad, you wouldn’t know.” My hands were shaking. “If that’s all you have to say,” I said, my voice strained. “Please, leave.” I opened the car door expressionlessly. Harold Borle suddenly rushed over, snatched the document bag from my hands, and dumped its contents into a puddle nearby. “What are you doing?!” I rushed to pick them up. The documents were already soaked in dirty water, the ink bleeding. “Smack!” “Smack!” Two sharp sounds came from behind me. I spun around. Harold Borle was forcefully slapping his own face. Once, twice. Hitting himself with extreme brutality. Within seconds, his cheeks were red and swollen. Then he directly collapsed to the ground, letting out a heart-wrenching scream. “Help… Stop hitting me… Noah, please stop hitting me…” Hurried footsteps approached from a distance. Amelia Shaw rushed from the garage entrance. She had originally been walking. Hearing Harold Borle’s screams, she immediately ran over, frantic. Harold Borle scrambled into her arms, burying his face in her shoulder. “Amelia, darling… I just came to tell Noah not to leave…” He whimpered, “But he not only hit me… he said he was going to kill me…” Amelia looked down at Harold Borle’s swollen face, and her entire demeanor changed. She strode over to me and snatched the car keys from my hand. “Noah.” Her voice was devoid of any warmth. “I thought a night to cool off would make you think straight.” She sneered. “I never imagined you could be so vicious.” “Amelia, he hit himself—” “Enough!” Her scream echoed through the garage. I clamped my mouth shut. The remaining words stuck in my throat, unable to be swallowed. She wouldn’t believe me. Never would. “Kneel.” Amelia stood before me, her face expressionless as she spoke the word. “Apologize to Harold Borle. Apologize until he forgives you.” My entire body froze. Kneel? She told me to kneel? “Amelia, he slapped himself! Check the surveillance—” “The surveillance cameras on this floor of the garage are broken,” Harold Borle suddenly blurted out from behind her. I turned to look at him, my fingers unconsciously clenching. He had deliberately chosen this spot. He had known there were no cameras here all along. “Amelia, darling…” Harold Borle began again. He softened his body, slowly sliding downwards. “My head feels a bit dizzy… Noah’s hitting me… it seemed pretty bad…” Amelia immediately rushed over, carefully supporting him. After a quick look, Amelia’s face became extremely grim. She turned and walked towards me. One hand grabbed my hair, pulling my head back. “Smack.” A slap landed on my face. My head buzzed. A second. A third. My lip was cut, and the taste of blood spread in my mouth. “Ame—” “Shut up. I don’t want to hear your excuses right now!” She kept hitting me. I don’t know how many slaps it took, but my knees gave out first, and I fell to the ground. Amelia stepped back, looking down at me as I knelt. “Those slaps are a lesson for you.” She warned. “If I ever find out you try to hurt Harold Borle again…” She crouched down, bringing her face close to mine. “Don’t test my patience.” She stood up, walked to Harold Borle, and bent down to help him up. Harold Borle leaned on her shoulder, mouthing a silent message to me. “Serves you right.” The engine started. The tires crunched over the puddles on the ground. Mud splashed all over my face and clothes. I knelt on the ground, my clothes covered in blood, water, and mud. The documents were scattered everywhere, completely ruined. The underground garage was empty, the lights stark and pale. I tried to get up. My arms were useless. I tried twice but couldn’t stand, falling back down. My vision began to blur. It was exhaustion. Or perhaps my heart had died, and my body simply refused to move. Through the haze, blinding headlights flashed. A black Maybach silently pulled up in front of me. The car door opened. A pair of hands lifted me from the ground. I smelled a faint, woody perfume. So clean. Utterly out of place in this dirty environment. Before I completely lost consciousness, I heard an unfamiliar woman’s voice.

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1 When my birth parents found me, they swore they would treat me and the imposter who had taken my place with absolute equality. We wore the same designer clothes, attended the same university, and were even married off to a set of twin brothers. It all fell apart the day the headlines screamed that the imposter’s husband was having an affair with a famous actress. In response, my parents called my husband over. And they arranged a mistress for him—a young, beautiful secretary. This, they said, was a special favor to me. The secretary had a clean background and, crucially, was infertile. She would never threaten my position as the wife of the younger Covington heir. I didn’t lose my temper. I just picked up my phone and called for an entire club’s worth of escorts. I told my family, “Why stop at one? If we’re going to do this, let’s do it with style. And if that’s not enough, I can always call for more.” My brother, Tristan, scowled, accusing me of being too extreme. He insisted our parents were only looking out for me. “Scarlett is prettier and more accomplished than you,” he sneered. “If even her husband cheated, what makes you think you can hold on to your marriage?” I nodded slowly, looking him straight in the eye. “He’s right. I can’t. So I’m done.” “I don’t want the husband. And I don’t want any of you, either.” … My father’s hands trembled with rage. “You wretched girl! How could you say something so heartless to your own family?” My mother’s eyes welled up as she clutched her chest. “Seraphina, we searched so long for you. How can you throw us away so easily?” Tristan’s voice was a furious hiss. “You’re nothing but an ungrateful brat!” Just then, a breaking news alert flashed across the television screen. “Sources report that Ms. Scarlett Blackwood, heiress to the Blackwood Corporation, jumped from the balcony of her marital home at five o’clock this afternoon…” The camera showed Scarlett, pale as a ghost, being loaded into an ambulance. She’d jumped from the fifth floor, but right into the swimming pool below. She didn’t even have a scratch on her. But my parents and Tristan were already in a full-blown panic. “Hurry! Get the family hospital cleared out! I want the best team of specialists on standby!” I watched their frantic retreat, then calmly walked to the window. “Scarlett jumped. So I’ll jump, too. That’s only fair, isn’t it?” I made a move to climb onto the sill. Three terrified screams ripped through the air behind me. They scrambled back, yanking me away from the window with frantic strength. My mother clung to me, sobbing hysterically, while Tristan pinned my arms. My father slammed the window shut, locked it, and then, turning back, he slapped me hard across the face. “Seraphina, how dare you use suicide to threaten us?” Tristan and my mother froze. It was the first time any of them had laid a hand on me since they’d rescued me, covered in wounds, from an illegal sweatshop. My mother was the first to react. “What are you doing? You scared her! Apologize to Seraphina right now!” But I just stared at them, my cheek burning, my voice eerily calm. “You slapped me.” “So now you have to slap Scarlett. To be fair. Right?” All three of them stared at me as if I were a lunatic. My father’s voice shook with fury. “You’ve lost your mind!” I smiled. A broken, empty thing. “Isn’t this what you’ve been teaching me all along?” When they first brought me home, they spent a full week brainwashing me. They said they’d raised Scarlett for twenty years and loved her too deeply to send her back to her impoverished biological family. But they made a solemn vow: they would be perfectly, absolutely fair. Neither of us would ever feel neglected. And they kept their word. If Scarlett got a new haute couture gown, an identical one would appear in my closet. The family assets and company shares were divided equally between us, down to the last cent. If Tristan made a sarcastic remark to me, my parents would immediately force him to repeat the exact same words to Scarlett. Their love was perfectly distributed. No need to fight for it, no need to guess. After seeing so many online dramas about real and fake heiresses tearing each other apart, I once thought this arrangement was for the best. But then, everything soured. Scarlett hit her rebellious phase. She got into fights at school and started dating some dropout with bleached hair. My parents were heartbroken. As punishment, they made her kneel in the cold, dusty family chapel—and they dragged me there to kneel beside her. Their reasoning was flawless, in their eyes. “We share the good times and the bad. That’s what a real family does. That’s what’s fair.” Later, Scarlett flunked her college entrance exams. While my parents comforted her, they were also tearing up my acceptance letter to a top-tier university. They sent me to the same third-rate arts college abroad that Scarlett was going to. I’d studied sciences my whole life, but they changed my major to Arts Management, the same as hers. “You and Scarlett will both be taking over the family business someday, so it doesn’t matter what you study,” they’d said. “But we promised to be fair, which means you must receive the exact same education.” I knew something was deeply wrong. But after a childhood of being passed around and treated like dirt, I was desperate for a family. I couldn’t bear to let go of this fragile, imitation warmth. At least, I told myself, they were trying to be good to me. That delusion lasted until Scarlett became obsessed with Damien Covington, the eldest son of the Covington dynasty. And Damien, conveniently, had a twin brother, Daniel. My parents gave me no choice. They arranged my engagement to Daniel. Our weddings were set for the same day. Scarlett and I wore identical gowns and carried identical bouquets. The venue, the ceremony, even the seating charts for the guests were perfect mirror images of each other. When the priest read the vows, I saw Scarlett beaming with pure joy. But all I felt was a wave of nausea. Today, when they so casually tried to arrange a mistress for my husband, I finally understood the source of that feeling. Their idea of fairness wasn’t about treating me as an equal. It was about turning me into Scarlett’s living duplicate. But there was one thing they didn’t know. I had a way out. I’m not from this world. 2 I was transmigrated here. The System that brought me gave me one mission: to collect affection points from the three members of the Blackwood family. I was close to maxing them out. When I told the System I was giving up, it tried to reason with me. “Host, the affection points don’t lie. They truly care about you.” Before I could argue, my parents and Tristan had dragged me into the car and were speeding toward the hospital. “Are we going so I can be admitted alongside Scarlett?” I asked dryly. “We wouldn’t want her to feel an imbalance, after all.” The atmosphere in the car turned to ice. All three of them looked horrified, but they didn’t dare scold me again. My mother took my hand. “Seraphina, we’re bringing you because we’re a family. Scarlett will need your support.” Her voice softened. “We were wrong before. We hurt you, and it will never happen again.” Just as she finished speaking, Tristan’s phone rang. It was the hospital. Scarlett was pregnant, but the shock of her “jump” had put the pregnancy at risk. The doctors said she couldn’t handle any more stress. My father slammed on the brakes. “Seraphina, you never liked the smell of hospitals, did you? Why don’t you go do some shopping? Clear your head.” My mother pressed a black card into my hand. “Buy whatever you want. Take your time.” Tristan opened my door and practically pulled me out of the car. “Don’t you dare go near Scarlett and cause a scene,” he warned. “She can’t take it right now.” The car sped away, leaving me on the curb. I held the card and asked the System, “Did their affection points go up?” There was a long, strange silence. “…They went up a little.” I laughed, a humorless sound. “It seems your sensors aren’t very accurate. It’s confusing guilt for affection.” “Now,” I said, my voice hardening. “Initiate my exit protocol.” This time, the System didn’t hesitate. “Exit protocol confirmed. Initiating…” I walked into the nearest luxury department store and, for the first time, chose an outfit based on my own taste. I had just changed when Tristan called. His voice was urgent. “Get to the hospital. Now. You need to tell Scarlett that you’re pregnant, too.” “If you can convince her not to terminate her pregnancy, I’ll make Mom and Dad officially add your name to the family trust! I swear!” I was about to refuse, but he cut me off, his voice exploding with rage. “Seraphina Blackwood! I knew it! You’ve always been jealous of her!” “She’s fragile! If she goes through with an abortion, it could destroy her health!” “It’s just a little lie! It’s not like it’ll cost you anything!” No, it wouldn’t cost me a piece of my flesh. But it would cost me my freedom. They would lock me in the house to “gestate” alongside Scarlett. We would wear the same maternity clothes, eat the same nutritional meals. They’d probably even want our weight gain to be identical. Then, after ten months, they would find some random baby and hand it to me. But none of that mattered anymore. I was leaving. I looked up at the hospital looming in the distance. “What I mean is,” I said into the phone, my voice calm, “I don’t need my name on your family trust.” Tristan was silent for a second, then his voice dropped to a menacing growl. “You better not pull any stunts.” Inside the VIP hospital suite, my parents were fussing over Scarlett, who was propped up in bed. When they saw me walk in, their faces filled with worry and apprehension. Before I could say a word, Scarlett snatched a fruit knife from the bedside table and lunged, aiming for my stomach. “I don’t want this baby,” she shrieked, “and I won’t let you have one either!” 3 I didn’t dodge. I even grabbed her hand, guiding the blade, and pushed it deeper into myself. The System had warned me that a self-initiated exit would result in punishment. But there was a loophole: if I died as a direct result of the abuse from the Blackwood family, I would not only be freed but also receive compensation. I watched as my parents and Tristan rushed toward me, their faces contorted in horror. They were screaming for doctors, their hands fumbling to press against the bleeding wound. For the first time, Tristan’s face was a mask of pure, helpless confusion. A small smile touched my lips. Looks like I wasn’t going to die. Not yet. When I woke up, all three of them were by my bedside. They looked haggard, with dark circles under their eyes. Seeing me awake, Tristan spoke first. “Dad already slapped Scarlett.” I gave a faint “mm.” That small sound was like a spark to a powder keg. Tristan shot to his feet, his voice a low roar. “She cried all night because of that slap! The stress almost made her miscarry! And that’s all you have to say? What more do you want?” “I don’t want anything,” I said quietly. My father sighed heavily. “Seraphina, I’ll transfer a portion of Scarlett’s assets to you as compensation. You won’t be at a disadvantage in this, I promise.” My mother dabbed at her eyes. “Scarlett didn’t mean it, darling. She was just… overwrought…” I ignored them, my voice distant as if recalling a dream. “When I first came here, I got a kitten.” “Scarlett was playing with it, and it scratched her face.” “You said that to be fair, you had to do the same to me. You held the cat down and scratched my face with its claws.” “Then you had the cat put down.” The room fell into a dead silence. They were frozen, speechless. Finally, Tristan broke the silence, veins bulging in his neck as he yelled, “That’s not the same thing!” “Dad already promised you compensation! And besides, you’re fine, aren’t you?” Just then, the doctor walked in. “The patient had to have a hysterectomy. The family needs to be vigilant about preventing post-operative infections.” I slowly turned my head to look at the three statues standing by my bed. I smiled. “So, how are you going to make this fair?” My mother stammered, “S-Scarlett’s child will know you as their godmother… when you’re old, they’ll take care of you…” A laugh, sharp and self-mocking, escaped my lips. “So the assets you’re giving me as ‘compensation’ will ultimately go to her child anyway.” They opened their mouths, desperate to explain, but I cut them off, closing my eyes. “I was just kidding.” “I trust you. I trust that you will always be perfectly fair to both me and Scarlett.” 4 Tears welled in my parents’ eyes. They moved to embrace me, but I pushed them away. “I only have one request now.” “I want my own birthday.” “For the last ten years, I’ve had to share my birthday with Scarlett.” “I just want to eat a cake that’s all mine.” “I just want to hear you say ‘Happy Birthday’ to me, and only me.” They agreed without a moment’s hesitation. Racked with guilt, they planned a party of extravagant proportions. Every detail was dripping with luxury. And it was all kept a secret from Scarlett. The System’s voice echoed in my mind. “Are you… starting to feel reluctant to leave them?” I shook my head. Before the System chose me, I was an orphan with no one in the world. But it had shown me the original Seraphina’s memories from before she was lost—a life filled with warmth and genuine love from her family. That’s why I had agreed to come here. I believed they truly loved their daughter. For ten years, I waited, hoping to see a flicker of that love from the memories return. But I was done waiting. On the day of the party, just as I expected, Scarlett showed up. Her face was a mask of pure malice. “Do you really think Mom and Dad love you?” she hissed. “They found you years ago. But I was having a hard time, throwing tantrums, hurting myself. They were worried about me, so they decided not to bring you home. It was the same week your foster father almost…” She let the word hang in the air. “They only came for you later, when you were about to be beaten to death in that sweatshop, because they had no choice.” “But they promised me. They promised they’d use ‘fairness’ as an excuse to make sure you were always one step beneath me.” I looked at her, my expression unreadable. “Are you finished?” Scarlett’s face contorted with rage. “You just wait. In a minute, I’m going to ‘accidentally’ fall down the stairs and tell everyone you pushed me. Let’s see how calm you are when Mom and Dad throw you out!” I grabbed her wrist. “No need to pretend,” I said. “I’ll make it real for you.” And with all my strength, I shoved her down the grand staircase. My parents and Tristan, drawn by the noise, arrived just in time to see Scarlett tumble. My father lunged at me, his foot connecting brutally with the fresh stitches on my abdomen. The force sent me flying over the second-floor railing. I landed in the living room, crashing directly onto the five-tiered birthday cake. Cream and strawberry filling flooded my mouth. It was sweet. Just like the happiness I had always imagined. In the ensuing chaos, Tristan still remembered to have the guards drag me to the basement. “We’ll deal with you when we get back!” he roared. The basement was dark and cold. No one remembered me. Three days later, they finally returned, muttering about how they were going to punish me. But when they opened the basement door, all that greeted them was the thick, cloying stench of decay. From the cake. And from me.

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