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Roman Sterling was the undisputed king of New York’s elite social circle. Drinking, women, street racing, and bar fights—he was a master of them all. But after we started dating, he gave it all up. He treated me like I was his entire world. What he didn’t know was that I had already seen his texts: “I’m honestly bored to death with her. I’ve been looking at the same face for seven years; it’s beyond stale.” “The one I really want right now is you, my little songbird.” 01 The sun was scorching as we pulled up to the luxury bridal boutique. Roman took the umbrella from the chauffeur and held it over me himself. He was a Sterling. In his world, people existed only to serve him. But with me, he was the one doing the serving. In the beginning, his friends thought I was just a new flavor he was trying out. But as seven years passed, his devotion only grew more meticulous, leaving his inner circle in a state of perpetual shock. The boutique assistant greeted us with a voice full of envy. “Mr. Sterling, you and Ms. Thorne are truly goals.” Hearing this, Roman looked at me and flashed a boyish, seeking-praise smile. My heart felt like it was being pricked by a needle. I ignored his gaze and walked straight to the dressing room. Roman had pre-ordered fifteen of the latest couture gowns, each one hand-picked by him based on my specific tastes. As I went through the fitting, he leaned against the doorframe, his eyes so focused it felt like I was the only person in existence. One dress after another. I was losing my patience by the end, but he remained rapt, even offering the designer specific notes for alterations. He wouldn’t settle for anything less than perfection. The assistants gathered around me, whispering in hushed, envious tones: “Ms. Thorne, usually when guys come in for fittings, they’re on their phones by the third dress. I’ve never seen a man stay this focused from start to finish.” “You’re so lucky. He clearly adores you.” Adores me? I turned to look at Roman. When our eyes met, his expression melted into a soft, tender smile. It was a look of pure, watery devotion. He was a completely different person from the cold, ruthless “Prince of Wall Street” portrayed in the media. This was his “special treatment” for me. But if he really loved me, why was he keeping another woman in a secluded villa in the Hamptons? He called her his “little songbird.” What a cozy, intimate little nickname. 02 The fact that Roman Sterling was head-over-heels for me was common knowledge in Manhattan. Before us, he was the city’s most notorious playboy—clubs, scotch, models, and brawls were his oxygen. But the moment we got serious, he quit it all. Simply because I once said I “hated the smell of booze,” he stopped going to clubs and became a teetotaler, even at high-stakes business galas. He asked for my opinion before every social gathering and treated other women like they were a contagious disease. He was terrified of making me unhappy. Once, at a charity gala, a socialite made a snide remark about my background. Roman didn’t say a word; he simply had her and her entire family blacklisted from the city’s social register. I never saw her again. To prove his commitment, he went to his father and agreed to give up his reckless lifestyle to study the family business. He took over Sterling Global, something he had always sworn he would never do. For me, he made it look easy. That was when everyone finally realized—Roman wasn’t playing. It was me or nobody. It wasn’t surprising that his friends were confused. He was the heir to a multi-billion dollar empire, and I was just a rising news anchor. In terms of status, we were worlds apart. I used to fear his parents’ reaction, but when I first met his mother, she was surprisingly gracious. “Roman told me he’s settled on you. He said if he can’t have you, he doesn’t want anyone. He practically threatened me not to make things hard for you, or he’d never come home again.” “Clara, honey, I should thank you. Without you, I don’t know how long it would have taken for him to grow up.” I was shy and deeply moved. Moved by everything Roman had done for me. That night, he held me close and kissed my forehead, his voice deep and honeyed: “Clara, I love you.” I held him tight, believing I had finally captured a beam of permanent light in my life. But seven years later, this man who claimed to love me was talking to another woman. His tone was dripping with contempt. “Seven years. I’m exhausted. It’s reached the point where I’m just sick of looking at her.” “If my mother didn’t love her so much, I would have dumped her a year ago. But she’s so obsessed with me; she’d probably go insane if I broke it off. Hahaha.” “The one I really want right now is you, my little songbird.” Every word was a blade. And every blade drew blood. 03 By the time the dresses were finalized, the city lights were flickering on. Roman drove me home. He brewed me a cup of herbal tea to settle my stomach, his voice sounding a bit distant in the quiet living room: “Clara, I have an emergency board meeting to deal with. I’ll probably be back late. Don’t wait up for me.” I gently caught his sleeve. “Can’t you stay? Just this once?” He froze. I noticed him tapping his left hand—a nervous habit he had when he was calculating a lie. But finally, he shook his head and said softly, “This meeting is crucial. I have to go.” I stared at him for a long time, searching for even a flicker of guilt. There was nothing. “Baby, I’ll come straight back to you the second I’m done, okay?” He pulled me into a hug, whispering sweet promises. I masked the bitterness in my eyes and let a silent tear fall. “Okay. Go ahead.” He spent a long time soothing me. Before he left, he tried to kiss my cheek, but I turned away. He assumed I was just being pouty and gave a doting, indulgent chuckle. Then he turned and walked out without a hint of hesitation. I watched him go. A few minutes later, I grabbed my keys and followed him. The destination was a luxury villa on the outskirts of the city. I hid around the corner and watched as he punched in the entry code. A woman flew into his arms. She was dressed in a provocative black lace “bunny-maid” outfit, her voice purring with artificial sweetness. “Master, you’re finally here.” Roman’s eyes were dark with hunger. He leaned down and kissed her deeply before lifting her up and carrying her into the house. I stood outside that villa for a long time. Until my blood felt as cold as the night air. 04 In reality, I wasn’t surprised by Roman’s plans tonight. Their chat history went back three years. It started with: “Mr. Sterling, thank you for the ride home. I guess I can check ‘riding in a CEO’s passenger seat’ off my bucket list now.” “No problem.” And it ended yesterday: “My little bird, I’m taking her to pick out wedding dresses tomorrow. I’ll come to you at night. Wear the outfit you bought for me.” “Understood, Master~” Attached was a photo of the woman on her knees in that lace outfit. I had only been holding onto a final, pathetic shred of hope. I thought that if I begged him to stay, he might choose me. But he didn’t. He didn’t even feel a second of remorse. 05 By the time Roman returned home, I was sitting on the sofa in the dark. I wasn’t waiting for him. I just felt so suffocated that I couldn’t sleep. He entered the house quietly, trying not to wake me. But when he turned the corner, he saw me staring at him, unblinking. He was startled. Seeing my haggard face and the dark circles under my eyes, he looked devastated. “Clara? Why are you still up? I told you not to wait for me.” He took my hands and found my fingers were ice-cold. His voice took on a sharp edge of protective anger: “Clara, why don’t you listen? Your hands are freezing, and the AC is up too high. Are you trying to get sick?” It was rare for him to snap at me. And even then, it was out of concern for my health. In that moment, a wave of nausea rose in my chest. I couldn’t get it out, and I couldn’t swallow it down. Especially the scent of her perfume clinging to his coat—a cloying, cheap floral scent that wouldn’t dissipate. It felt like a hammer was smashing against my heart. Over and over. Until everything was a bloody, mangled mess. I realized I didn’t want to play pretend anymore. I was the victim. I was the one betrayed. Why was I the one enduring the silence? I looked up at him, cutting off his lecture. “Roman, I saw them.” “The texts between you and her.” 06 I hadn’t intentionally snooped through his phone that day. We had been together for seven years. I believed he loved me, and I gave him my trust. But that night, I woke up suddenly for no reason. Roman was dead to the world after pulling overtime, and I saw his phone light up on the nightstand. I was worried it was a work emergency, so I checked it. The first thing I saw was: “Daddy, were you satisfied with last night’s service?” Followed by several explicit photos. My hand shook so hard I nearly dropped the phone. My brain went white. My first instinct was denial. I couldn’t believe Roman would do this. But my fingers kept scrolling through the logs. Page after page. Month after month. They talked so frequently that it took me over an hour to reach the beginning. It started three years ago. “Mr. Sterling, thank you for the ride. I finally know what it feels like to be the CEO’s favorite.” “Also, thank you for having dinner at my place.” The timestamp was March 25th, 9:10 PM. I remembered that day. It was my birthday. Roman had been three hours late. I had waited for him at home with a cold dinner. He had told me it was a crisis at the office and apologized profusely. Of course, I didn’t blame him. I even comforted him and told him to rest. Now I knew. He was driving a female employee home and staying for dinner. That was the “crisis.” The atmosphere must have been wonderful. Wonderful enough to make him forget I was waiting for him. Wonderful enough to make him abandon every promise he ever made to me. 07 Since that day, Seraphina had been promoted to his personal assistant. Even though they spent every day together, the texting never stopped. It evolved from professional questions to life trivialities, and finally to a full-blown affair. Roman would drop her off before picking me up from work. He solved her problems at the office and fired the male supervisor who gave her a hard time. Whenever he bought a gift for me, he bought an identical one for her. When Seraphina complained about the commute, Roman bought her a condo right next to the office. She was so “grateful” she offered him “thanks.” That was the first time they slept together. “Daddy, I’m waiting for you.” “On my way.” The location was a hotel just a few blocks from our penthouse. What was I doing at that moment? I remembered. I was packing Roman’s suitcase. He told me he had to fly to London for a week. When he didn’t come home that evening, I called him. He told me he’d be home soon. His voice was slightly out of breath. He was probably in bed with her right then. And I had no clue. I was such a fool. Fool enough to notice nothing. Fool enough to keep believing in him. That night, I don’t know how long I sat there. I read those logs over and over. Finally, I replied to Seraphina’s message with three words: “I was satisfied.” Then I deleted the message. I pretended nothing had happened. But I knew Seraphina saw it. And she knew it was me. That’s why she started texting me their meeting times anonymously. And I went. I saw with my own eyes how this man, who constantly whispered “I love you,” looked when he was desperate to get his hands on another woman. 08 The dim light of the living room cast long shadows across Roman’s face. He looked genuinely confused. “Clara? What texts?” I repeated them for him, my voice flat and clinical: “Seven years. I’m bored to death.” “The one I want is you.” “She’d probably go insane if I left.” With every word, the color drained from his face. By the end, he was gripping my wrist so hard he was shaking. He begged me: “Clara, stop. Please, stop.” I looked down at him, my tears finally breaking free. “Roman, when you were with her, did you think about me even once?” “If you were really tired of me, you could have just said so. Did you think I would beg you to stay?” “Seven years. We were about to get married. How could you do this to me? How could you lie to me for three years?” My questions, my sobbing, my heartbreak—none of it could match the agony in my soul. It felt like my heart was being roasted over an open flame. Half charred, half raw. It hurt. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. 09 In truth, I hadn’t cried when I first saw the logs. Or the photos. Or even when I saw them together. I couldn’t cry then. I didn’t know what I was crying for. But now, seeing Roman act like he still cared… I knew him. His concern for me was real. And that was what made it so disgusting. My sobs echoed through the quiet penthouse. Over and over. Roman panicked and pulled me into a fierce embrace, his voice cracking: “Clara, I’m sorry. I was possessed. I swear I only love you. She was just a distraction, a mistake. Please, I’ll make it right—” In the past, whenever he messed up, he’d put on this pitiful act, and I would always cave. But not this time. I pushed him away, slowly and firmly. “Roman, it’s over.” His eyes went red instantly. He looked like he was about to collapse. “Clara, I don’t accept that—” “Don’t touch me. You’re filthy.” That one word made Roman turn as white as a sheet. He instinctively pulled his hands back. I looked at him for a long time, then gave a cold, hollow smile. “Give this back to your little songbird.” “I don’t want it anymore.” I slid the 5-carat engagement ring off my finger and dropped it into his palm. My fingertips were like ice. He instinctively tried to close his hand, but he was too slow. I stood up, walked into the bedroom, grabbed the suitcase I had packed days ago, and walked toward the door without looking back. I heard his frantic footsteps behind me, but he stopped six inches away. His voice was a broken rasp. “Clara, can’t you forgive me just this once?” I paused. But I didn’t turn around. “Goodbye, Roman.” 10 After leaving, I moved into my own apartment. My father passed away in an accident when I was young. My mother remarried when I was ten and had my half-sister, who is now seventeen. The apartment I moved into was an inheritance from my father that my mother transferred to me when I turned eighteen. She loves me, of course, but she loves my little sister more. That’s just how it is. I understand it. I’ve always made it a point not to disturb her new life. Our relationship could be described in four words: Civil, but distant. Breaking up with Roman and canceling a high-society wedding was a major event. I made an appointment with her and went over to tell her a few days later. On my way out, I accidentally bumped into a shelf and broke a ceramic figurine. I took one look at the shattered pieces and closed the door. I told her exactly why we broke up. I didn’t hide a thing. She was silent for a long time before she spoke: “Clara, you spent seven years with him. You turned him from a bratty playboy into the CEO he is today. Are you really just going to hand all that over to another woman? Does that feel right to you?” I was stunned. She continued, “You have leverage now. He’ll never dare to cheat again. And Roman hasn’t announced the breakup yet, which means he still wants you. That other girl is just a toy.” “Everything is still salvageable as long as the news doesn’t get out.” She was analyzing the situation with the cold precision of a computer. But she didn’t sound like a mother. I looked at her and suddenly asked, “Mom, if my sister’s boyfriend cheated on her, would you tell her the same thing? Would you tell her to swallow the betrayal for the sake of ‘leverage’?” “Of course not—” She stopped abruptly, a flash of embarrassment crossing her face. “Clara, that’s not what I meant—” I knew. I knew she wasn’t trying to hurt me. She just… didn’t love me enough to be angry for me. Because she didn’t care as much, she could be “rational.” If it were my sister, she would have been screaming for blood. I should have known this by now. But it still stung. I gave a faint smile. “I get it, Mom.” Before I left, she looked at my haggard face, and a flicker of genuine pity appeared in her eyes: “Clara, you need to take care of yourself.” I hadn’t even responded when a girl’s voice called out from the other room: “Mom! I’m hungry!” My mother’s face lit up instantly. She closed the door and headed back inside. “Coming, princess! Dinner’s already on the table—” Her voice was pure sugar. She didn’t look at me again. I blinked my dry eyes and walked away. 11 When I got home, the ceramic figurine was still lying on the floor. Shattered. I picked up a piece. On the bottom, there was an inscription: “Roman loves Clara. Forever.” It was a gift from our first date. It was Father’s Day, and Roman had crowded into a “paint-your-own-pottery” shop with a bunch of kids. He looked ridiculous and adorable. Someone had even recognized him and posted a video online. At the time, his reputation was trash. He changed girlfriends as often as he changed shirts. I was immediately labeled “The Sterling Heir’s Newest Toy.” I didn’t care about the labels. But he did. He immediately contacted the media to have the video removed and created his first public social media account to announce our relationship: “Clara is the boss. I’m her toy.” The internet went wild. I went to him and told him he didn’t need to demean himself for me, that I didn’t care about the gossip. “Clara, this is about respect.” “I don’t even let myself hurt you; why would I let anyone else? I want you to stand in front of the cameras with your head held high. I won’t let anyone stain your reputation.” I still remember his expression then. Focused. Sincere. Devoted. Even though everything was a mess now, I couldn’t deny that in that moment, he really did love me.

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After my parents’ divorce, my mom had a whirlwind romance and married the richest man in the city. The court awarded custody of my sister to my mom, but my sister had a total meltdown in the courtroom. She screamed that our mom was a gold-digging whore and refused to go with her. Seeing her bloodshot eyes and stubborn defiance, I immediately rushed forward and threw my arms around my mom. “Mom! I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” And just like that, without a second thought, I changed my last name and became the pampered daughter of the ultra-wealthy Sterling family. From that high vantage point, I watched as the father and daughter who had caused my gruesome death in my previous life slowly plummeted from their pedestals into absolute ruin. 1 My mother was incredibly beautiful. Even compared to the actresses on TV, she didn’t pale in the slightest. Because of that, I always believed it was only a matter of time before she left my father. Sure enough, she filed for divorce. She was preparing to marry into the Sterling family—the absolute apex of high society—and become Mrs. Sterling. In the courtroom, the judge initially awarded custody of my sister to my mom. But my sister had a complete meltdown right there in front of everyone. She screamed that our mom was a gold-digging whore and swore she would rather die than go with her. Seeing her bloodshot eyes and that familiar, stubborn defiance on her face, I immediately rushed forward and threw my arms around my mom. “Mom! I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” I cried until my face was a mess, looking absolutely pitiful. Huge teardrops smashed onto the floor. I looked so devastated that even the judge probably wanted to slap himself for trying to separate us. After that dramatic performance, my mom and the judge decisively changed the custody ruling. I forced down the overwhelming joy bubbling up inside me. With swollen eyes, I followed my mom into the black Rolls-Royce. As the car drove away, I let out a long, heavy exhale. I clenched my fists. This time, I absolutely refuse to live the miserable, tragic life I lived before. Since I was given a second chance at life, I was going to do everything in my power to shine as brightly as possible. 2 Looking back at the two figures slowly fading into the distance, an indescribable sense of satisfaction washed over me. Even if I hadn’t completely rid myself of those two lunatics yet, at least I wasn’t trapped in that hellish household anymore. In this life, I refused to be driven insane by those two hypocritical psychopaths, and I absolutely refused to be their stepping stone again. Just recalling my memories from my past life made me sick to my stomach. That father and daughter loved to put on a show of high-minded intellectual superiority in front of others. They loved acting like they were above worldly desires. But behind closed doors, they were rotten to the core. Especially my “good sister.” She loved nothing more than playing the role of the resilient, independent martyr who defied authority. So, in my previous life, just like in this one, my sister, Mia, refused to go with my mom. She hysterically accused my mom of abandoning the family for money. After all, in her eyes, our professor father was practically a god. She wanted to fall into ruin alongside her god, but she refused to let me go. She had planned it all out from the start. “Dad, you and Mom are really over, aren’t you?” “Chloe secretly told me she doesn’t want to go with Mom. Dad, please don’t let Chloe and me down.” And just as she planned, in the courtroom, the father who had always disliked me actively asked the judge for custody of me. I wasn’t surprised at all. The moment he spoke, I saw the faint smirk tugging at the corners of Mia’s mouth. She hid it well, but as someone who had lived through this once before, I saw it plain as day. Then, she turned around and started her hysterical tirade against my mom. “I don’t want you! You don’t even want Dad anymore! Why couldn’t you just give me a complete family?!” “You’ll never be respected marrying into that family! I don’t want a mother who abandoned her biological daughters just to be a stepmother to someone else’s kid! We don’t need you!” I have to admit, Mia’s acting was phenomenal. Even experiencing it a second time, her explosive outburst startled me for a second. But I recovered quickly. I threw myself into my mom’s arms—she was already sobbing quietly. Honestly, my heart ached a little for this woman. With a trembling voice, I delivered my lines: “Mom, I don’t want to be separated from you! Can you please take me instead?” I cried until my face was a mess, looking absolutely pitiful. Huge teardrops smashed onto the floor, making even the judge look like he regretted his initial decision. After that dramatic performance, my mom and the judge decisively changed the custody ruling. In that exact moment, I clearly saw the panic flash across Mia’s face. It was quickly replaced by a mask of grievance and betrayal, as if the entire world had turned its back on her. My dad rushed forward to hug her, comforting her in a soft voice, just like he always did. Since their father-daughter bond was so deep, I hoped they would stay locked together for the rest of this life. 3 I wouldn’t feel bad for her, because I knew Mia had always been incredibly smart and fiercely ambitious. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until I died in my last life that I saw her true colors clearly. I knew she didn’t actually hate money. On the contrary, she loved money more than anyone else. But she was greedy. She wanted both the money and the flawless reputation. So, just like in my previous life, she put on a show of rejecting my mom’s departure, causing a scene in court. But behind the scenes, she intentionally made sure my mom saw her looking disheveled and miserable over and over again. My mom felt guilty and compensated by treating her even better, constantly trying to bring her into the Sterling family so she could live like a wealthy heiress. But Mia knew exactly how to play the game. She would reject the offers again and again, playing hard to get. Meanwhile, she continued to build her “resilient scholar” persona alongside our hypocritical father, networking with heavyweights in the academic world. Eventually, by the second semester of her junior year of college, she published three major research papers back-to-back. By her senior year, she secured a full-ride to Harvard and was hailed by everyone as a genius. And then? She swiftly and decisively kicked our dad and me to the curb, officially becoming the Eldest Miss of the Sterling family. And what about me in my past life? I was so devastated by our parents’ separation that I couldn’t snap out of it, foolishly following Mia back to my dad’s house. As a result, I spent the rest of my life working myself to the bone to support those two hypocritical academics, eventually collapsing from exhaustion and severe illness. When I finally woke up, I discovered that they had drugged me and sent me to the bed of an absolute monster—all just so they could secure a $100,000 research grant. How laughable is that? Two people who constantly claimed to despise the “stench of money” traded me for their food, their clothes, their lifestyle, and their grants. It was nauseating beyond belief. 4 Living a second time, my goals were incredibly clear. Escape that subhuman father-daughter duo, and maybe exact a little revenge along the way. And of course, I wasn’t going to let the title of “Sterling Family Heiress” slip away this time. So, after following my mom back to the Sterling estate… I immediately changed my last name. The world no longer had a Chloe Miller; there was only Chloe Sterling. When I proposed the idea, my mom was actually a bit surprised. In contrast, my stepdad, Mr. Sterling, was deeply moved. He turned around and handed me a dazzling, jet-black Amex Centurion card. “Thank you, Uncle Sterling.” I accepted it sweetly. Unlike Mia, I wasn’t fake. I wanted it, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Then, I calmly walked over to my mom and patted her arm. “Good eye this time.” With that, I slowly walked upstairs to pick out my room. I have to admit, having money is fantastic. Looking at the opulent, palatial mansion, my mood soared. Even a random trash can in this house probably cost more than I made in three months of working in my past life. While I was still lost in my joy, I accidentally bumped into a chest that smelled faintly of a clean, fresh cologne. The warmth radiating from it perked me up instantly. I looked up, meeting a pair of deep, disdainful eyes. This was straight out of a cheesy romance drama. I was just getting ready to swallow hard… When the next second, a massive force shoved me away. “I—” “Hello, sister,” a voice as cold as ice echoed from the bottom of the stairs. When I groggily looked back, the person only left me with an aloof, distant silhouette. I awkwardly rubbed my nose. I guessed who it was. Uncle Sterling’s only son, Julian Sterling. He was the future head of the Sterling empire. A quintessential, domineering CEO. I didn’t have many memories of him from my past life. So I didn’t overthink it. For the next few days, nothing major happened. My mom and Uncle Sterling were gross and lovey-dovey every day, acting out a cheesy romance novel right in front of me and Julian. My fragile heart took a beating every day. In contrast, Julian was completely unfazed. I don’t know if he had facial paralysis, but from the first time I saw him until now, I had never seen him make any other expression. Always freezing cold. I didn’t dare provoke him, keeping as much distance between us as possible. After all, I had a lot of work to do. 5 Not long after entering the Sterling household, I basically adapted to the life of a wealthy heiress. Using the black card Uncle Sterling gave me, I went on a massive shopping spree at the mall and bought the newest iPhone. Then, I relentlessly began sending verification messages to my “good sister.” For an entire week, I bombarded her: “Mia, the Sterling family is seriously so rich. Uncle Sterling gave me a watch yesterday that costs enough to buy the nicest house on our old street.” “Mia, what should I do? Uncle Sterling is making me attend a high-society gala in Beverly Hills tomorrow. Am I going to embarrass myself? Wuwuwu~” “Mia, Uncle Sterling transferred me to the best private high school in Beverly Hills. It’s called Oakridge Academy. I think that’s the one you originally tested into, right?” “Mia, when are you free? Let me take you out for a fancy steak dinner.” And then, she deleted me. Undeterred, every few days, I would send my “good sister” another verification request, putting my most pretentious humble-brags in the message box. And then, I was blocked. I didn’t care at all, because my only goal was to make her miserable. Two weeks later, I officially transferred into Class A at Oakridge Academy. Of course, all of this was thanks to Uncle Sterling’s immense wealth. “Hello everyone, my name is Chloe Sterling.” I stood at the podium introducing myself, but waves of mocking whispers echoed from the students below. “So this is the new fake phoenix of the Sterling family. Her mom is shameless enough, but this daughter… tsk tsk. Changing her last name the second she moves in. Afraid people won’t know she’s a gold digger?” “True, but you can’t deny she’s actually really pretty.” “Who cares if she’s pretty? She’s still just a fake heiress.” Listening to the chatter and gossip below, my heart remained perfectly calm. I had experienced plenty of this in my past life. I had a very thick skin. Of course, I knew my “good sister” definitely had a hand in spreading these rumors. In my past life, my grades were never as good as hers. She relied on her stellar academic record to test into this elite private school, making my dad proud for a very long time. Now, watching the sister who had always lived in her shadow suddenly stand at the same height—maybe even shining brighter—of course she would be furious. I cast a brief, indifferent glance at Mia, who was sitting at her desk, pretending to focus intently on a worksheet. I didn’t say hello. It was as if my harassment from the past few weeks had never happened. When I slung my limited-edition designer backpack over my shoulder and walked to the back of the room, I noticed there was only one empty seat left in the entire class. Everyone was watching, waiting for a show. I actually smiled. Well, if it isn’t my “good brother.” I sat down next to him, completely unfazed. Julian didn’t even lift his eyes. Excellent. As freezing cold as ever. I like it. After a few minutes, seeing that Julian had no intention of kicking me out, the students who wanted to see me humiliated were shocked. In the crowd, I saw Mia turn her head and give me a long, deep look. I pretended not to see it and focused on the lesson. After all, getting a second chance at life meant I understood a lot of things better now. Like the fact that getting into a top university was crucial. So, I immersed myself in studying, unable to pull myself away. This resulted in many students who wanted to pick a fight giving up, since I just sat next to Julian, behaving perfectly and doing practice problems. Additionally, Uncle Sterling hosted a massive banquet specifically for me, officially announcing me as the Eldest Miss of the Sterling family. Many shrewd players in the business world realized that Uncle Sterling genuinely valued me. These elite private school kids all came from wealthy families and ran in the same circles, so they caught on quickly. They didn’t dare provoke me anymore; some even started trying to suck up to me. But there are always people who lack basic observation skills. Mia’s desk-mate, Sarah, was one of them. After I broke into the top 200 on the midterms, she stood up in front of the whole class and accused me of cheating. “I knew it! She used to go to a public school in a terrible district. If she didn’t latch onto the Sterling family, there’s no way she could be here. There’s no way she could keep up with the curriculum.” What she said wasn’t entirely wrong. But she didn’t know that even though my grades couldn’t match Mia’s in my past life, I was still ranked first in my old public school. This time around, since I planned to focus on studying, Uncle Sterling had specifically hired top-tier private tutors for me. So, I calmly walked up to Sarah and grabbed her by the collar. “I cheated? You saw it?” Perhaps feeling humiliated by being manhandled, Sarah’s face turned bright red. “Let go of me! You cheated, aren’t people allowed to say it?!” “Oh really? Let’s go then.” Her bravado faltered a bit. She tried to pull my hand away but couldn’t, so she gritted her teeth. “Let go of me! Where are we going?!” “To the Dean’s office to check the security footage.” My tone was flat, completely unhurried. “If there’s no proof, just wait for me to sue you for defamation. I’m sure you’re aware of the Sterling family’s legal team.” Saying that, I started dragging her toward the door. She screamed in panic, but still cursed at me. At that moment, exactly as I expected, my “Saint” of a sister, Mia, walked over. “Chloe, let go of Sarah. She was just making a joke. Why are you taking it so seriously?” “But I’m a very petty person, you know that.” I tilted my head and looked at her, smiling faintly. “By the way, my last name is Sterling now. I’m not your sister.” As we were arguing and pulling, our homeroom teacher, Mr. Davis, walked over. The thirty-something man looked kindly at us and asked, “What’s going on here?” Sarah didn’t speak. Mia, perfectly maintaining her poised demeanor, spoke up. “It’s nothing, Mr. Davis. Sarah was just joking with my sister, saying she cheated on the exam. After all, her grades used to be really poor, and she just transferred here not long ago, but she already broke into the top 200. My sister has always had a bad temper, so she got upset and started arguing with Sarah.” What a masterful white lotus. She seemed to be explaining the situation for me, but she was actually trying to solidify the cheating accusations while reminding everyone that I have a “bad temper.” If this were my past life, I wouldn’t have noticed all the underlying malice. Watching her stand there with a slight frown, while Mr. Davis’s eyes remained fixed on her, fully believing her words and preparing to scold me… I shoved Sarah. “Sarah, were you just joking with me?” Without waiting for Sarah to answer, I continued, “Oh, I just remembered. Mia, I always see you coming out of Mr. Davis’s office after school, and you’re always bringing him breakfast. You don’t have a crush on Mr. Davis, do you?” As soon as the words left my mouth, Mia’s face went deathly pale. She stood there, completely panicked. Mr. Davis’s expression shifted from awkwardness to visible distress. “Chloe Sterling, what are you talking about? Spread rumors like that, and I’ll give you a disciplinary infraction.” “Don’t take it so seriously, I was just making a joke.” I tossed the words back casually, nearly making Mia pass out from anger. To resolve the situation, we ended up in the Dean’s office. Because Uncle Sterling had just donated a massive sum of money the previous month, the school’s security cameras had been upgraded. The footage clearly showed I didn’t cheat. But because I spread a rumor about a student and a teacher, both Sarah and I ended up getting a formal warning. Walking back into the classroom, I purposefully walked past Mia’s desk. I leaned down and whispered in her ear, “My good sister, it looks like Mr. Davis really does like you.” Mia’s body violently flinched. I happily returned to my seat. After all, having memories from my past life, I knew all about Mr. Davis. Because she couldn’t afford private tutors, Mia struggled to maintain her top-ten ranking. Discovering that Mr. Davis had a soft spot for her “poor but hardworking” persona, she started approaching him to ask questions. It escalated from asking questions during passing periods to him tutoring her alone after school. I have to admit, she was very smart and very charming. Because, judging by Mr. Davis’s reaction today, he probably really did have feelings for her. So, I had just secured my first piece of leverage against her. However, if she stopped there, I wouldn’t have been able to do much. It all depended on how she chose to play her cards moving forward. For a while after that, Mia didn’t dare incite anyone to mess with me. And, to avoid suspicion, she didn’t dare go to Mr. Davis for help either. Unsurprisingly, her grades dropped significantly by finals. Seeing her sitting in her usual seat, crushing her exam paper in her hands, put me in a fantastic mood. Lately, Julian’s attitude toward me had improved a lot. He wasn’t as freezing cold as he was at the beginning. I started calling him “Brother” constantly. I knew his connections were powerful, so clinging to him would solidify my position as the Sterling family’s Miss. Under my relentless harassment, he finally, reluctantly agreed to let me ask him for help with questions I didn’t understand. But he set a strict rule: “A maximum of thirty minutes a day. Do not bother me outside of that time.” “You got it!” So, my final exams showed a lot of progress. I was almost catching up to Mia. 6 When summer break hit, I saw Mia in our gated community. Sure enough, the plotline from my past life was playing out. That night at dinner, I casually mentioned, “Mom, didn’t you tell me the other day that you wanted to go to the Maldives for the summer? You said it was your lifelong dream. When are we going? I want to go with you.” “Oh, that was just a silly dream from when I was young. You silly child, your Uncle Sterling is so busy, I need to stay here and take care of him.” My mom said it with a blush on her face. I secretly glanced at my stepdad. He was listening very intently. The next morning, when I came downstairs for breakfast, I saw Julian sitting alone at the dining table. “Where are Uncle Sterling and my mom?” The housekeeper replied, “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling went to the Maldives for a vacation. They probably won’t be back for half a month.” Yes! I couldn’t help but feel giddy. Julian sat across from me, his arms crossed, watching me with a knowing look. I quickly reeled in my excitement. Seeing him still staring at me, I hurriedly changed the subject. “Brother, since it’s just the two of us at home now, you have to be nice to me. Otherwise, I’ll tattle on you.” The corners of Julian’s mouth ticked up slightly. “Oh? How should I be nice to you?” He pushed a glass of milk toward me. I was instantly speechless. This guy never used to engage with me. His sudden response really caught me off guard. I quickly buried my head in my food, inhaling three large meat buns to ease the awkwardness. Across from me, Julian elegantly sipped his oatmeal, watching me the entire time. It felt like he was trying to burn a hole through me. I hastily finished my food and ran off. For the next few days, I saw Mia wandering around our gated community. Because she intentionally dressed very plainly, almost shabbily, the security guards chased her away several times. After a week of not running into my mom, Mia finally slinked away in defeat. 7 One day, I put on an elegant sundress and was just getting ready to leave the house. “Where are you going?” A familiar voice sounded behind me. I instinctively shrank my neck back and froze in place. While I was trying to come up with an excuse, Julian considerately opened the front door for me and grabbed his car keys. “Let’s go. I’ll give you a ride.” I turned around stiffly, stammering, “I… I’m just going shopping with my girlfriends. We can just take an Uber. It’s too much trouble for you.” Julian’s voice left no room for argument. “Didn’t you say we were the only ones home and I should take care of you?” I was still trying to talk my way out of it. Julian acted like he didn’t hear me. He gave me a gentle push. By the time I stepped over the threshold, the door was already closed behind me. And then, inexplicably, I found myself standing in front of Julian’s red sports car. Looking at the flashy two-seater, I felt a surge of excitement, but still weakly said, “Brother, I’m meeting my friends.” “Annoying.” I heard him mutter impatiently. We ended up taking a Bentley. Just as I opened the back door to get in… Julian’s voice rang out again: “Sit in the front.” It was an absolute command. I cursed in my head, thinking this guy had definitely read too many cheesy romance novels featuring domineering CEOs. “Hurry up.” He spoke again, and I quickly climbed into the passenger seat. After picking up my new best friend, Lily, we nervously headed to the mall. Julian followed us with his arms crossed, looking completely aloof. “Chloe, your brother is so hot. Can I get his Instagram?” Lily asked me, completely love-struck, constantly sneaking glances in his direction. I covertly glanced at Julian. His eyebrows were knit so tightly they could probably crush a mosquito. I pulled Lily close and whispered in her ear, “Don’t even think about it. He likes guys.” Lily’s mouth fell open in sheer disbelief. As expected, after the initial shock, her looks toward Julian were filled with nothing but curiosity. Then, she enthusiastically dragged me through various luxury boutiques, buying everything in sight. When we were almost done shopping, I purposely led Lily past a specific coffee shop. Having memories of my past life, I knew Mia worked here part-time. Today was the day the school’s bad boy, Ethan, would fall in love with her at first sight in this very shop. It all started because she accidentally spilled coffee on his shirt, and Ethan noticed this “hardworking” girl. After that, they would run into each other multiple times, and Ethan would relentlessly pursue her. I vividly remembered from my past life how desperately Ethan loved Mia. The plot was basically “handsome bad boy falls for the hardworking good girl.” With Ethan’s backing, Mia navigated the elite private school flawlessly. Not only did she not get bullied by the rich kids, but she eventually secured early admission to Harvard. I had originally planned to use my own charm to win Ethan over first, but after sending him harassing texts for a week straight without a single reply, I had no choice but to come here and ruin their meet-cute. So, Lily and I swaggered into the coffee shop, fully playing the part of arrogant rich girls. As I carefully orchestrated it, when Lily walked past Ethan’s table, the coffee that was supposed to spill on Ethan’s clothes ended up splashing all over Lily’s limited-edition dress. Accompanied by Lily’s shriek of “Ah!”, Mia took a step back. Seeing that she was about to fall into Ethan’s arms, I stepped forward, yanked her back, and then lost my own balance, falling forward. I secretly rejoiced, thinking I was going to bump into Ethan. Instead, a pair of strong hands yanked me back. A chilling aura washed over me from above. Julian glared down at me with a face as cold as ice. I shrank back, trying to slip away, but he held me firmly in place. While I was still struggling, a loud SMACK rang out. Mia had a bright red handprint on her face. Her eyes instantly turned red, and she looked at Lily with a mix of grievance and defiance. It was a truly pitiful sight. “What are you looking at? Let me tell you, you’re finished. “Do you have any idea how much this dress cost? You’re going to pay for it.” I had to admit, a pampered heiress like Lily was far better at this than I was. Every gesture exuded arrogance. I almost wanted to applaud, but thinking of Julian behind me, I held back. “I didn’t do it on purpose. You don’t have to look down on people like that.” Mia finally spoke up, still maintaining her defiant persona. Lily only demanded she pay for the dress, but Mia interpreted it as Lily looking down on her, while completely ignoring the demand for compensation. To an outsider, it looked exactly like we were bullying a poor, hardworking girl. Seeing her stoic expression, even I almost wanted to step in and help. Sure enough, many people turned to look, and someone even advised: “Miss, she’s just a student working a part-time job. It was an accident. Let it go.” I took my time and said, “I don’t know if it was intentional or not. But I do know that the dress my friend is wearing was a birthday gift from her dad. It’s a global limited edition. You might not even be able to buy it for a hundred thousand dollars. I wonder if it were you, would you just ‘let it go’?” Lily’s eyes were red with anger. “I don’t care. If you don’t pay for this today, I’m going to tear you apart.” Mia, perhaps just noticing me, turned her head and saw Julian standing behind me. Her face went pale. Hearing the price tag, she looked even more unsteady, incredibly pitiful. She looked pleadingly at Ethan. I then noticed that Ethan was just sitting there with a smirk, watching the drama unfold without the slightest intention of helping. Mia’s action made things a bit awkward. Finally, she turned to me with difficulty: “Sister, you know—” This was the prelude to making me the scapegoat. I quickly took a big step back. This time, Julian didn’t restrain me. “Hey, don’t call me that. My last name is Sterling. I barely know you.” I quickly hid behind Julian again. Mia’s pale face showed she hadn’t expected me to be so ruthless. Seeing that none of the boys nearby intended to help her, she closed her eyes and fainted. Ethan quickly moved away, terrified of being blamed for it. In the end, it was the coffee shop owner who came over to smooth things over. He fired Mia on the spot and told us to settle the compensation privately. The owner pulled out his phone. Not long after, I saw my dad arrive, late to the scene. Seeing Mia on the floor, his face was full of heartbreak. Then he looked at me, and just like he had questioned me countless times before, he demanded, “What happened to your sister? Was it because of you?” “Your wings have grown strong now, haven’t they? She’s your biological sister, and you just let people bully her like this.” See, my dad was always like this. Even though I was also his daughter, because my grades couldn’t match Mia’s, he was always cold to me. He constantly muttered that I was nothing like him, and wondered how the Miller family could produce such a stupid daughter. Even when I studied incredibly hard, falling just a few points behind Mia, he couldn’t see me. He gave all his paternal love to her. To beg for his love, I was so happy when he fought for custody of me in court in my past life. But after being worn down by him and disappointed time and time again, I no longer had any expectations for him. I said coldly, “You don’t have to scold me. After all, I’m not your daughter anymore. Besides, this is what your precious daughter did. What does it have to do with me?” My dad’s eyes turned red. He was just about to reprimand me when the coffee shop owner tactfully explained the truth of the situation. Then I saw my dad instantly change his tune: “Chloe, she’s still your biological sister. You know she’s always been obedient, working hard to support herself. Do you think you could—” Sure enough, the emotional blackmail was starting. Just as I was about to speak, Julian beat me to it: “Mr. Miller, Chloe is currently a member of the Sterling family. She has absolutely nothing to do with you.” With that, he pulled out his phone, ready to call the police. My dad finally panicked. “We’ll pay, don’t call the police! My daughter still has to go to college.” Ah, the depth of a father’s love! I suddenly felt a twinge of pain in my heart. Julian instinctively supported me. In the end, my dad pulled out his card to pay, looking absolutely heartbroken. After making a few phone calls, he barely managed to scrape together enough money. Then, he carried Mia on his back and left. Watching them walk away, even though I had achieved my goal, I didn’t feel as happy as I thought I would.

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After the story about my ex-boyfriend and me went viral, the internet lost its collective mind. Everyone said we were the absolute pinnacle of tragic Hollywood romances. Then, his “first love” stepped in to debunk the rumors, claiming I was just pulling a publicity stunt. My ex-boyfriend even retweeted her post: [It’s fake. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Later, we ran into each other at an industry dinner. Someone accidentally brought up how I had once drank myself into the ER with stomach bleeding just to secure an audition for him. It was a role he always believed his first love had gotten for him. The color drained from his face instantly. He stared at me in sheer disbelief. People around us murmured that it wasn’t worth it, asking if I regretted it. My ex-boyfriend looked at me, his eyes swimming with complex emotions. I thought about it, then gave a peaceful smile. “I don’t regret it. I let it go a long time ago.” 1 The internet dug up some old, bittersweet moments between me and my ex-boyfriend. It was a video from three years ago. I had just won the Best Newcomer award at the Golden Globes. During the red carpet interview, a reporter asked if I had anything I wanted to say. I was holding up my dress with my left hand and clutching my trophy in my right. I sneaked a glance at Liam Hayes, who was standing off to the side. He had just debuted back then. He was an unknown rookie, standing alone in a corner while everyone ignored him. I flashed a bright smile and whispered into the mic, “That’s my boyfriend. He’s incredibly talented, and one day, he’s going to be an amazing actor!” Snow had started falling on the red carpet. A few white flakes caught on my eyelashes as I pressed my hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please take good care of him for me!” The video was set to a heartbreakingly beautiful soundtrack. The fans had also spliced in footage of Liam winning his Best Actor Oscar years later. He was giving his acceptance speech. “I want to thank the person who means the most to me. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” As he spoke, he looked emotionally into the audience, his voice thick with suppressed feeling. “Thank you for always staying by my side. I hope we can keep walking this path together for the rest of our lives.” The comments section was flooded: [Omg, my heart! I want to cry!] [When Chloe Miller was having her biggest moment, she didn’t promote herself, she asked everyone to look out for Liam. She loved him so much!] [It’s definitely a two-way street! Liam actually became the amazing actor she said he’d be, and he even thanked her when he won his Oscar. Look at his eyes, he’s so in love!] [He finally became the great man you said he would be, but he lost you… Why did they break up?! This is the most tragic romance ever. This old tea is killing me!] … The video swept across every major platform. In an instant, Liam’s and my names shot to the top three trending topics on Twitter. Honestly, the editing was masterful. The internet is full of hidden talents. Even I couldn’t help but sigh. If I wasn’t the main character, I probably would have been moved to tears too. But only I knew the truth: Liam’s “thank you” during his speech was never meant for me. The person he was talking about was his first love. 2 I broke up with Liam on the exact day he won his Oscar. Looking back, I genuinely thought he was thanking me during his speech. I even contributed a tearful reaction shot for the cameras. After all, for his sake, I might not have walked through fire, but I definitely gave it everything I had. When he was a rookie with zero connections, I used every favor I had to get him auditions. I even split my own agent’s time to manage him. Just to get him some screen time, I slashed my own asking price to secure a package deal where he could join the cast with me. Good roles are almost impossible to land in this industry. Every newcomer is fighting tooth and nail to break out. To help him secure a crucial supporting role, I was pressured by a sleazy director to drink shot after shot until my stomach started bleeding. I was rushed to the ER that same night. But I thought it was all worth it. I have to admit, Liam was incredibly talented. Plus, he was stunningly handsome. Even in an industry full of beautiful people, he stood out. That supporting role catapulted him to stardom! He became the new “It Boy.” For a while, he was untouchable, drowning in script offers. His striking face, paired with his cold, untouchable aura, had young fans losing their minds. In just a few days, his followers skyrocketed past ten million. But that night, after the award ceremony ended and the after-party was winding down, I walked out of the restroom trying to clear my head from the champagne. And I saw him hugging Olivia Vance. The harsh, cold lights froze me in place. I stood perfectly still, watching them share an intimate kiss. Olivia was Liam’s first love. They had been together since high school and dated for over five years. She was also an actress. Later, because her agency had a strict no-dating clause, they were forced to break up. I had always suspected that Liam only entered the entertainment industry because of her. I watched Liam. His lips carried a faint smile, his expression so tender it looked like he was melting. He looked completely satisfied as he buried his chin in the crook of Olivia’s neck. I had never seen him make that face before. Around me, he was always serious and cold. In that moment, I finally understood. In love, hard work is the most useless thing in the world. Everything I had done over the years was just me making a fool of myself. His heart was entirely occupied by someone else. No matter how much I threw myself at him, it was a waste of time. Standing under the lights, they looked perfect together, like a matched set. Even I couldn’t help but feel that he belonged with her. So that night, I broke up with Liam. The breakup was messy. I was young and impulsive. Love and hate existed on a razor’s edge. I lost control, calling him an ungrateful bastard. I said raising a dog would have been better than raising him. I told him I was blind for ever dating him, and that looking at him made me sick! Liam fired back, accusing me of playing the martyr. He said he never needed me running around playing his manager, and that from start to finish, he had never actually liked me! In the very end, I couldn’t hold back my tears. With red eyes and a trembling voice, I asked him: “So, when you won that award… who exactly were you thanking?” He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. After a long pause, he said coldly, “Olivia, obviously. Did you think it was you? “Stop flattering yourself.” “I understand,” I said, wiping the tears from my face, my voice quiet. “Liam, we’re done.” 3 That was already a year ago. I was miserable for a while back then. Not only did I feel completely unlovable, but I also felt like all my sacrifices had been fed to the dogs. I drank too much a few times and lived in a haze for weeks. But now, I felt like I had finally moved on. When I saw the viral video again, I just smiled and sighed to my agent: “Look how stupid I was back then. “Liam was standing right next to me, completely ignoring me, and I was still acting like an idiot, begging everyone to take care of him.” My agent sighed. “Everyone runs into a few toxic guys when they’re young—” Suddenly, her face drained of color. “Olivia just tweeted!” I hadn’t caught on yet. “What did she say?” My agent’s brow furrowed tightly. “She’s saying you’re using this for PR. She says Liam was thanking her!” I opened Twitter and saw that Olivia had quote-tweeted the viral video of Liam and me, commenting: [Wow, great editing, even I almost shipped it! But the person Liam was thanking back then was actually me lol. Not trying to take up everyone’s timeline, but I really hope people stop with these shameless PR stunts!] A few minutes later, Liam quote-tweeted her post. [Shipping everything you see will only hurt you. I was always thanking Olivia. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Unrelated people. My agent was standing next to me, cursing him out at the top of her lungs, but I just stared at those words until my eyes burned and stung. So, in his heart, I was always just an… unrelated person. Those whispered secrets, those late-night conversations, the laughter, and the tears. It turned out it was all just a one-woman show. “What do we do?!” I gave a bitter smile. “There’s nothing we can do. What she’s saying is the truth. Liam really wasn’t thanking me.” My agent panicked. “But now she’s starting a smear campaign! She’s claiming you were the other woman, that you swooped in while she and Liam were fighting. She’s calling you a homewrecker!” Sure enough, coordinated troll accounts started flooding the comments. [Are people really shipping a homewrecker? Liam and Olivia have been together since college. Chloe Miller is a shameless bitch who swooped in when they were on a break!] [Right? Do people just not fact-check anymore? Homewreckers should go die, seriously.] [Chloe Miller needs to get canceled. How does she have the nerve to pull a PR stunt after ruining their relationship? Disgusting!] … Within a few hours, massive waves of troll accounts started controlling the narrative in my comments. These accounts were all newly registered, some not even having profile pictures. They had zero proof, but they were relentlessly spamming the narrative. But the internet loves drama, and they don’t care about logic. Many people actually believed I was a homewrecker. They flooded my mentions with abuse and even went to the page of my upcoming TV show, spamming the director to recast me. No matter how much I tried to explain on Twitter, no one believed me. They didn’t need the truth; they just needed a target to vent their anger on. My agent was pulling her hair out in frustration. “A few brand sponsors just called me asking what’s going on. I managed to stall them, but you need to call Liam right now and make him clear this up! “You two started dating a long time after they broke up! He knows the truth better than anyone!” She was right. If Liam just said one sentence, I’d be fine. But would he really help me? After hesitating for a moment, I dialed the number I hadn’t called in a year. “The number you have dialed is currently powered off. Please try again later…” I froze, listening to the cold, automated voice. Liam had just tweeted a few minutes ago. How could his phone be off? A sharp, piercing pain started spreading through my chest. I offered my agent a tragic smile. “It’s no use. He blocked me.” 4 When it rains, it pours. The director of the TV series I was currently prepping for called. Over the phone, he stammered awkwardly: “Chloe, listen, I just feel like this role isn’t the right fit for you anymore. Let’s just pass on this one, and we’ll definitely collaborate next time…” I stood there, holding the phone, completely stunned. This show was my biggest project of the year. I loved the lead character’s arc, and I had fought incredibly hard to secure the role. To make sure I nailed the performance, I had turned down every other offer for the past six months to focus solely on studying the script at home. I panicked. “Director Reynolds, we already signed the contract! “And this isn’t our first time working together. You know my work ethic. How could you recast me over some baseless internet rumors?” Besides, if they recast the lead right now, wouldn’t that just solidify the rumor that I was a homewrecker? Director Reynolds sounded conflicted. “I know you’re professional, Chloe. But… did you offend someone? The production studio explicitly called and told us to replace you! “You know I have no choice here! “But listen, I’m setting up a dinner tonight. You can come and try to beg them. See if they’re willing to reconsider.” I wiped a hand over my face. “Fine. I understand. Thank you, Director Reynolds.” … The next day, I nervously arrived at the dinner Director Reynolds had set up. But the moment I walked through the door, I froze. Sitting in the massive VIP room, at the head of the table, wasn’t some fat, balding studio executive. It was someone I recognized so well I could spot his ashes in a pile of dust. Liam Hayes. He was wearing a tailored navy-blue suit, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Under the shimmering crystal chandelier, his flawless features looked almost unreal. He sat there like an icy, untouchable god. Director Reynolds clearly hadn’t expected that the investment firm backing the show belonged to Liam either. He shot me an apologetic, awkward smile. It made sense. Liam’s asking price was astronomical now. He was a brilliant actor with the face of a pop idol. Any movie with his name attached was guaranteed box-office gold. His schedule was booked solid for the next two years. He had probably made a fortune and started his own production company. I had worked with Director Reynolds multiple times and we were somewhat friendly. He was willing to do me a solid, trying to smooth things over with Liam with a smile. “Liam, this is Chloe, our former female lead. You guys are probably familiar, so I won’t bother introducing you. “I brought her here today so she could properly apologize for however she offended you in the past. She’s young and made mistakes. She’s had a tough time these past few years, please don’t hold it against her…” “Chloe.” Director Reynolds waved me over. “Come on, let’s offer a toast to Liam.” I walked over stiffly. Director Reynolds shoved a glass of whiskey into my hand. Liam just stared at me blankly, his expression full of contempt. “Hurry up, Chloe!” Director Reynolds urged. I held the glass, standing there frozen like a statue. Humiliation crawled up my ankles like poison ivy, wrapping tightly around me. How laughable. I gripped the glass so tight my fingertips hurt. Me? Apologize? What did I have to apologize for? Was I too stupid? Was I too deeply in love, eagerly handing him the knife so he could brutally stab me until I bled? What exactly was my crime? “Chloe, what are you waiting for?!” Director Reynolds was getting anxious and gave me a slight push. Liam crossed his legs, watching me with leisurely amusement. “Ms. Miller doesn’t seem to want to drink this. If you’re so reluctant, why are you still standing here?” His gaze felt like a scalpel, slowly slicing me to pieces right where I stood. But I couldn’t leave. I needed this role too badly. If I was recast now, not only would my last six months of work be wasted, but it would be the final nail in the coffin regarding the current PR disaster. It could genuinely ruin my entire future! If Liam added fuel to the fire and publicly confirmed I was a homewrecker, I was completely finished. After a long time, I slowly raised the glass. I could almost hear the dry friction of my joints grinding together. “I’m sorry. I was wrong in the past… Please, be the bigger person and let me go.” With that, I downed the whiskey in one gulp. The hard liquor burned down my throat, slicing my insides like a razor. But Liam didn’t give me an inch. He just scoffed. “You think one glass of whiskey is enough to buy a leading role? Ms. Miller thinks a bit too highly of herself.” My voice started to tremble. “Then what do you want?” He put two fingers together and casually waved behind him. An assistant came forward with two bottles of whiskey, filling a row of ten shot glasses to the brim. The color drained from everyone’s faces in the room, but this was Liam’s turf. No one dared to speak up. He tilted his head back slightly, narrowing his eyes at me. “Ten glasses. Finish them, and the role is yours.” I suddenly felt dizzy. The last time someone had said that exact sentence to me was two years ago, when I was fighting to get Liam a role. That balding producer had looked at me with predatory eyes and said, “Ten glasses. Finish them, and I’ll give him the role!” And now, the person saying those words was Liam. Director Reynolds’s face changed. “Liam, Chloe isn’t in great health. She can’t drink that much. How about—” Liam just shot him a freezing glare. “Director Reynolds, do you still want the funding for your show?” Director Reynolds immediately shut his mouth and shot me a deeply sympathetic look. I stood in silence for a moment, then tilted my head back and downed the first glass. The clear liquor carried a sharp, stinging burn, bringing tears to the corners of my eyes. My stomach began to spasm. The familiar, agonizing pain started creeping in. “One.” Liam leaned back in his chair, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Glass after glass went down. My vision started to blur. I don’t know why. I suddenly wanted to break down and sob. I desperately wanted to ask him: what unforgivable crime had I committed by loving him? Why did he hate me this much?! But I couldn’t cry. Tears are a weapon that only works on someone who loves you. In front of him, it would only strip away my last shred of dignity. The cramps in my stomach grew more and more violent. Back then, the doctor had sternly warned me that I could never binge drink like this again. But I had no choice. By the time I reached the third glass, I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but Liam’s expression seemed to change. He looked angry, his face dark as he stared at me intently. But by the seventh glass, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped the glass and stumbled out the door like a complete mess! Before I even made it to the restroom, I threw up everything right there in the hallway. The piercing pain in my stomach made it impossible to stand up straight. My vision went black for a long time before I managed to use the wall to pull myself up. My face was covered in tears from the dry heaving and the agony, but I couldn’t tell if it was my stomach or my heart that hurt more. I just felt so much pain. It hurt so much I felt like I was going to die. When I finally forced myself to stumble back into the room, Liam had already stepped out. He saw my wretched state. He froze for a second, then his face returned to its icy mask. I fought through the excruciating pain, my voice shaking. “Liam… is there… is there any other way? I really can’t drink anymore.” Liam stood there for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft chuckle. A few seconds later, he stepped closer, whispering softly in my ear: “I suddenly find myself missing Ms. Miller’s body. Why don’t you spend the night with me, and the leading role is yours. What do you say?” I never imagined he would say something so vile! I gritted my teeth. “What about Olivia? Aren’t you with her?” “You think you’re worthy of mentioning her name?” Liam sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I want to get back together with you. I’m just bored. I just wanted to see what it feels like again.” The air around me seemed intent on suffocating me. It vanished, making it impossible to breathe. I blinked my burning eyes, and finally, that humiliating tear fell. Liam looked like he had been burned. A complex expression flashed across his face. Once the floodgates opened, the tears couldn’t be stopped. I didn’t care anymore. I just embraced my shattered pride, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. I choked on my words. “Liam, do you know what my biggest regret in this life is?” He froze, a trace of almost imperceptible anticipation flashing in his eyes. “What?” I enunciated every word clearly: “My biggest regret in this life is ever meeting you.” 5 I didn’t stick around to see Liam’s expression turn murderous. I turned and stumbled away. In the long, brightly lit hallway, I let the tears fall silently. I decided that this would be the absolute last time I ever cried for him in this lifetime. … My stomach issue flared up badly, and I spent three days in the hospital recovering. I ultimately lost the role. Liam gave it to Olivia. When the show aired, it was a massive hit just as I had predicted. Even though Olivia’s performance was mediocre at best, Liam pulled strings to secure her an Emmy for Best Actress. Meanwhile, because of the “homewrecker” scandal, my career hit rock bottom. For a long time, I couldn’t even book a supporting role. To get any work at all, I had to attend the industry networking dinners I used to despise. Maybe it was a twisted joke of fate, but at one of those dinners, I ran into Olivia and Liam, who were there together. Olivia was currently riding the hype of her relationship with Liam and the success of her new TV show. She was the star of the moment, and many actors and directors were hovering around her, offering compliments. “We really have to hand it to Olivia. Beautiful and talented. No wonder she won the Emmy.” “Exactly! And she has such an amazing boyfriend. She’s winning at life!” Most people in the room knew about the bad blood between us, and some purposely stepped on me to kiss up to her: “Unlike some people. Fighting tooth and nail and ending up with absolutely nothing. Some people don’t have to fight or scheme and just have everything handed to them. There’s no comparison!” Olivia’s lips curled into a smug smile. “That’s true. What’s yours is yours. Nobody can steal it. What isn’t yours… forcing it won’t help. “Right, Liam?” The color drained from my face. From start to finish, Liam didn’t even glance at me. He just casually nodded. “Right.” “Oh, by the way, I heard that supporting role that made Liam famous back in the day was actually secured by Olivia! You two really built each other’s success!” “Yeah, isn’t everyone online calling it a fairy-tale romance? It’s all over TikTok. Even I couldn’t help but binge the edits!” … I froze, looking up at Liam. His eyes were soft and smiling. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be where I am today without Olivia.” As he said it, the two of them held hands, drawing cheers and hoots from the crowd. Of everyone in the room, only my agent and I weren’t smiling. She grabbed my hand tightly, forcing her voice down as she hissed furiously in my ear: “Didn’t you get him that role?! How the hell did it become Olivia’s doing?!” I didn’t know. Watching them act so sickeningly sweet, I couldn’t speak a single word. I just felt lost. I desperately wanted to run away from this room. Olivia’s gaze landed on me, carrying unconcealed contempt and triumph. Right at that moment, an investor sitting nearby suddenly spoke up: “Everyone says there’s no true love in Hollywood anymore, but I don’t think that’s true. “I remember back in the day, when Ms. Miller was trying to secure a role for her boyfriend, she drank until her stomach started bleeding and she ended up in the ER. I actually happened to be at that dinner.” I vaguely remembered this investor. I think we had dinner together once back then. I heard he later left the industry to start a tech business, so he probably wasn’t up to speed on all the current Hollywood drama. Liam froze for half a second, then snapped his head to look at me. The sheer disbelief on his face almost made him lose his composure. The investor, seemingly intrigued, asked, “How are things with you and your boyfriend now? Is his career doing well?” The crystal lights flickered over the crowded, noisy room. For a moment, I felt like the people around me were fading away. My world was completely silent. After a long pause, I spoke. “His career is doing great. But we’re broken up.” The investor looked surprised. “Why? You seemed so in love with him back then. I remember you were about to pass out, but you kept holding onto that producer, refusing to let go until he promised to give him the role!” Every single eye in the room was locked onto me. Some were shocked, some were mocking, some were just enjoying the drama. All the color vanished from Olivia’s face. She forced a smile and tugged on Liam’s arm. “Liam, I suddenly don’t feel well. Let’s go.” This time, Liam didn’t respond to her. He just stared dead at me. The emotions swirling in his eyes were unreadable to me, but they looked like a violent storm! His knuckles turned white from gripping his wine glass so tightly. I forced a smile, but it felt shattered, incapable of holding its shape. Those memories… having them laid bare in front of the people involved didn’t give me any vengeful thrill. I just felt exhausted. It was all in the past. What was the point of dragging it up again? An actress sitting next to me, who I was on good terms with, felt bad for me and asked pointedly: “Do you regret it now? Working so hard for someone else, only to end up making the wedding dress for another bride?” The edges of Liam’s eyes slowly turned red. I could feel his gaze practically burning a hole through me! I lowered my eyelashes and said softly: “There’s nothing to regret. “I’ve let it go.”

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I chased Jaxon for ten years, cleaning up after his endless parade of girlfriends, until this time. I had a conflict with a girl in the restroom, and Jaxon rushed in with his entourage of friends. After examining the minor injuries on Avery’s body, Jaxon stood up, his face ice-cold: “Stella, apologize to her.” 1 I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The women’s restroom. It was packed with Jaxon and his frat-bro friends. The girls outside were too scared to come in, and the crowd stared at me with eyes full of mockery or secondhand embarrassment. I shook the water off my hands and explained calmly, “I didn’t push her.” There were no cameras in the restroom, and this girl was clearly banking on that. Avery offered a bitter, fragile smile, gently tugging at Jaxon’s sleeve. “It really was me being careless.” “Stella, I’ll say it one more time—apologize!” Jaxon roared, grabbing my arm. In my twenty-five years of life, my dignity had never been trampled on like this. One of his friends stepped forward, looking uncomfortable. “Jaxon, come on, this is Stella…” “What makes you think she’s any different?” Jaxon raised his voice, glaring dead at me. “She’s just a dog!” The blood in my veins seemed to freeze instantly. Memories wrapped in raw emotion flooded my mind. The insecurities and terrors that kept me awake on countless late nights finally materialized, slapping me hard across the face. A few girls whispered among themselves; some even suppressed a laugh. Jaxon’s friends, who had always disliked me, were secretly gloating. I stared at the face in front of me, a tidal wave of bitter sorrow overturning in my chest. When someone tried to intervene and break up the fight, Jaxon refused to let me go. I lowered my eyes, clenched my left fist, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could! 2 Jaxon froze. My eyes were red as I looked straight through him. Leaning in close, I whispered, “I’m a dog? Then you’re a son of a b*tch.” 3 Jaxon and I grew up together as childhood friends. Our family backgrounds used to be evenly matched. When we were ten, his family fell from grace. His father was sentenced to prison, and from then on, he lived with my family. Because I liked him, I was always chasing after him, catering to his every need. You could say that the crushing inferiority he felt from the world’s cruelty back then was slowly healed by my daily, unwavering devotion. Gradually, his silence shifted from submissive to aloof. Years later, his father was released from prison. With the help of my dad and several old connections, he made a triumphant return to Wall Street, reclaiming his empire. And Jaxon? He became the untouchable, high-and-mighty golden boy. Jaxon’s mother had poor health and had been living in an expensive sanatorium for years. The only way he and his mother survived those dark years was entirely through us, definitely not from his father’s frozen assets. So when I told him he was a son of a b*tch raised by me, I wasn’t bullying him. I was stating a fact. Jaxon’s eyes went wide, his breathing turning ragged. “Stella, that’s going too far, don’t you think?” Off to the side, Carter Evans couldn’t help but frown. “Blackmailing Jaxon all these years using the favor your parents did for him as a kid—isn’t it time to drop it? Besides, how clean are you, really?” A sharp jolt shot through my brain. I shot a lethal glare at Carter. Jaxon’s face changed in a rare display of panic. He opened his mouth to speak. I stared dead at Carter. “What do you mean by that?” Carter smirked, an arrogant, careless look on his face. He exchanged a glance with the guys around him, and suddenly, they all looked at me with cold, disdainful mockery. They… what did they know? 4 I stared fixedly at the man in front of me. It made sense now. He knew exactly what I cared about, exactly where it hurt the most, which was why he deliberately twisted the knife there. Avery stepped forward. “Jaxon, let it go.” Jaxon stood completely still. Carter, seeing that this drama was about to be brushed over, yelled out like he was enjoying a show: “Jaxon, you aren’t gonna say it? Fine, I’ll say it! This girl, Stella, started off using childhood favors to chain you down. Then, she gets assaulted, you play the hero and save her, and she uses that to leech off you forever! Have you ever seen someone so shameless?!” Boom. If earlier I only suspected Jaxon didn’t love me, in this moment, I was absolutely certain of it. He hated me. The scene from the past flashed before my eyes. I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath, but my entire body felt like it was about to collapse. Assaulted? Is that how he understood it? Is that how he told the story to everyone else? The restroom fell into chaotic whispers. A crack appeared in Jaxon’s expression. He tried to grab me, but I dodged. Bending over, I could barely catch my breath. In a spot where Jaxon couldn’t see, Avery shot me a triumphant, gloating look. It seemed she knew about it too. I licked my dry lips and picked up my purse. As I brushed past Jaxon, my eyes were bloodshot. I couldn’t help it. Being bitten by the wolf pup I raised with my own hands actually hurt. I gave him one last look, offering a faint smile as I pulled out my phone, blocked and deleted every single contact method I had for him, and dropped the phone back into my bag. “I won’t apologize. You deserve each other. May we never meet again.” 5 Jaxon and I shared the exact same social circle, overlapping from childhood to the present day. When we were kids, we went to the same elite prep school. In high school, we shared the same AP Physics and Calculus classes. Even setting aside our parents’ business ties, the shared history of growing up together meant our lives were deeply intertwined. So even though I deleted him, I knew avoiding him completely and blocking out all news of him would be impossible. I went home. I slept for two days. When I finally checked my phone, I saw comforting messages from my best friend, Gia, mocking texts from Jaxon’s friends, and passive-aggressive posts from trust-fund kids in my feed. And, of course, Avery’s latest Instagram post: “I knew you would protect me.” The photo showed Jaxon’s large hand tightly gripping her delicate, pale fingers. A classic aesthetic of strength and vulnerability. This time, I felt absolutely nothing. I drove to work, only to run straight into Avery in the lobby. Dressed in sharp business attire but sporting a fragile, doe-eyed look, she was brought to my office by the HR manager for orientation. I froze, flipping through her file. “Who authorized bringing her into the company?” The HR manager looked incredibly awkward. “Mr. Brooks arranged for her to join. He asked that you mentor her and familiarize her with our operations. She’s… assigned to you.” After Richard Brooks was released from prison, my father naturally went into business with him. This company was a joint venture between our families. It was meant for our mutual benefit, and also to lay the groundwork for my future marriage to Jaxon. Now, Jaxon held the title of CEO, and I was the Vice President. He had blatantly planted his new girlfriend right under my nose. Avery lowered her head. “My family is going through a tough time, and my last job didn’t work out. I had to bother Jaxon for a favor. Ms. Wright, where should I start?” The girl’s eyes shimmered with feigned innocence, but the undisguised thrill of victory leaked through. I dropped the file on my desk. I originally thought that after vowing never to see Jaxon again, I’d just resign, hire a professional to manage my shares, and take a long vacation. I didn’t expect him to march right up and deliver another slap to my face. He really didn’t want me to have a moment of peace, did he? I walked right up to Avery. Her bold demeanor shrank slightly, as if she was terrified I was going to slap her. But she was too disgusting. I didn’t even have the desire to touch her. I gave a short laugh. “You can start by packing your things and getting the hell out.” “This company changes ownership next month… Consider yourself fired.” With that, I walked around her and headed out. It took Avery a few seconds to process what happened. She frowned and yelled, “Jaxon won’t allow this!” I turned my head and replied, “Him? He’s just a dog my family used to feed. Who does he think he is?” 6 There were a lot of people around, and I was sure many heard it and would pass it along to Jaxon. Good. Once I stepped into the elevator, all the energy drained from my body. Ten years of feelings. Even if I poured my heart into an abyss without a single echo, we didn’t have to draw blades against each other. But remembering what Jaxon said to me that day, even as I logically told myself to remain dignified and composed, the sour grief still surged violently upward, making me tremble. “Ahem.” The elevator stopped on the third underground parking level. Accompanied by a cough from behind, I realized in shock that there was someone else in the car. My eyes widened as I looked back. A man was casually leaning against the elevator wall, holding a coffee by the rim with a few fingers. He tilted his head and looked at me. “Excuse me?” I was blocking the door. I didn’t recognize him until he walked out. Dominic Evans. The professional executive manager I had hired. My subordinate. I hoped to God he hadn’t heard my meltdown. 7 Jaxon showed up at my door faster than I expected. He completely ignored my authority, forcing Avery to take a desk right outside my office. The very next day, she personally delivered a stack of documents to me. “Hurry up. The CEO is waiting,” Avery said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, looking both arrogant and aloof. I threw the files directly in her face. Following Avery’s dramatic screams, crying, and the shocked stares of the entire office, Jaxon stormed in. The veins on his forehead were pulsing. “Stella, I gave you an inch and you took a mile! What is your problem? She’s my person, how dare you touch her?” I was so angry I actually laughed. I didn’t want to argue in front of the whole office about what our “relationship” actually was after all those years of me catering to him and his refusal to set boundaries. It was too degrading. I stood up. Before the real confrontation began, a figure walked over and knocked on the door. Dominic stepped in, handed me a file, and glanced at Avery. He said smoothly, “The CEO assigning subordinates to the VP without her approval is quite inappropriate. Internal warfare among top executives makes a lot of noise. It’s bound to alarm the Board of Directors.” He gave a faint smile and looked at Jaxon. “Given VP Wright’s temper, if you try to force someone on her, you’ve got to use corporate protocol. Otherwise, she won’t just be throwing files. What if she decides to throw acid next time?” I didn’t know if his tone was just too casual, but a few people nearby actually struggled to hold back their laughter, their faces twitching before they regained their composure. The underlying message was clear: If Jaxon wanted to make me look bad, he had to go through our parents. He only dared to throw tantrums in private because he didn’t have the guts for a real corporate war. Jaxon froze for a second, about to erupt. I stared at Dominic’s devastatingly handsome face and hooked my arm through his. “I’m not entirely sure about this section of the report. Come over here and walk me through it. As for the rest of you, what are you waiting for? If you force a person I didn’t hire to stay here, you’ll have to start worrying about her physical safety. As for her, does she want a job, or does she want her dignity? You pick for her, Jaxon.” Both Avery and Jaxon looked shocked. One was pale with anger. The other stared darkly at my hand linked through Dominic’s arm. Jaxon left. Before he walked out, he sneered at me and whispered, “Stella, are you absolutely sure you want to escalate this to our parents?” I sat down. It felt like someone had fired a bullet straight into my chest. Bang. Flesh and blood flying everywhere. 8 My family did indeed owe Jaxon an immense debt of gratitude, but that was strictly limited to the time before his father was released from prison. Before his father went to prison, my family was not as wealthy as the Brooks family. After he got out, within six or seven years, Richard Brooks dominated Wall Street once again. Business naturally has its ups and downs. One day, my mom said to me, “Things have been tough these past few years. Thank God we still have your relationship with Jaxon to lean on.” Looking at the wrinkles that seemed to have appeared on her face out of nowhere, the urge to pour out my grievances was instantly sealed shut. “You’re so lucky, Stella. After what you went through, Jaxon still doesn’t look down on you. Child, you need to learn to be content.” I couldn’t utter a single word. A massive, gaping hole tore open in my chest, the cold wind howling through, bleeding endlessly. That incident. How did it suddenly become my fault? Especially when Jaxon knew exactly what really happened. 9 The tension between Jaxon and me finally reached its breaking point. That night, there was a high-society gala. Everyone in our circle was attending. Even Jaxon’s father stepped off a plane and headed straight there. I was dreading it. Working late at the office, I delayed going, until Dominic, who was sitting nearby, glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time. Aren’t you going to change into your dress?” He had these captivating, peach-blossom eyes that seemed to naturally flirt with everyone he looked at. Yet, when he worked, he was cold, composed, and decisive. He constantly switched between being an illusion and a harsh reality. Dominic looked up, glancing at the designer dress box. “Dusty pink. It’ll look good on you.” I had been anxious all night, but suddenly I froze. My plus-one for the gala was supposed to be Jaxon. But a few minutes ago, my assistant texted me saying Jaxon and Avery had already gone inside together and had met up with Richard Brooks. All my business partners were in there. The genuine ones, the fake ones, the ones hoping for an alliance between me and Jaxon, and the ones waiting for me to fail—they were all inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t have best friends, but most of them weren’t in this elite circle. As for my parents… given our background, how many people really look out purely for their children? I knew exactly what was going to happen tonight, and yet I had no choice but to go. My mind drifted back to when I was thirteen. A gala hosted by my family. Jaxon was dressed immaculately, but he refused to enter the main banquet hall. He sat by the swimming pool in my backyard. I found him and told him to come inside. His eyes were ice-cold. “No need. Those people inside just want to see me as a joke.” I marched up and hugged his arm tightly. “I want to see who dares to laugh at my Jaxon!” I had already been a simp for him for two years. He had always been freezing cold. That was probably one of the very few times I actually moved him. In that moment, the pool rippled under the early summer sun. Jaxon looked down at me in surprise, and in his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own face—flushed red, carrying the unique mix of shyness and bravery only a young girl possesses. Jaxon went inside. After that, his attitude remained frosty. But on the day we went back to school, I forgot to bring milk. He pulled a carton out of his backpack and handed it to me. He had kept it in an insulated bag, and it was still warm. Jaxon placed his hand on the top of my head and said softly, “Drink it.” Because moments where he was genuinely good to me were so incredibly rare, I took those tiny details and analyzed them over and over again throughout the years. And then, bit by bit, they were shattered by his current coldness and ruthlessness, until there was nothing left. I forced myself to stand up and sent Jaxon one last text message: “Jaxon, are you truly going to cut ties with me?” Jaxon replied with a voice memo. “I just proposed to Avery. We are even now. Stop harassing me.” Harassing. Heh. Seeing me smile with such deep sorrow, the man beside me propped his head on his hand and watched me for a long time. Finally, he draped his jacket over my shoulders. “If you’re tired, take a breather before we go. Stella, there’s no rush.” My name had a repetitive sound to it. In that moment, I didn’t want to overthink whether he called me by a nickname. I sat down. I didn’t cry. I just sat in total silence for five minutes. Waiting for the blood to rush away and then flood back into my heart. I finally gave up.

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When she was little, she accidentally bumped her arm and told her grandmother that I had pinched her, causing her grandmother to throw a massive fit at me. When she got older, she constantly skipped class, telling her homeroom teacher that our home environment was too suffocating and that she had depression. Later, she started dating a local thug. I followed her to the rooftop where they were secretly meeting. During an argument with him, she was pushed off the building. I died on the spot trying to save her. But my daughter’s very first reaction was to pull out her phone, record my broken body, and scream for the camera: “Mom, why did you jump?!” When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to her senior year of high school, exactly when she was threatening suicide to elope with that thug. This time, I efficiently packed her bags and set them in front of her: “Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love.” 1 “If you don’t agree to let us be together, I swear I’ll slit my own throat right here and make you clean up my corpse!” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my daughter holding a kitchen knife to her neck, screaming at me like a maniac. But I knew she had absolutely no intention of killing herself. She was just doing this to force my hand, to make me yield to her increasingly outrageous demands. In my past life, this terrified me so much that my soul practically left my body. I was a hair’s breadth away from dropping to my knees and begging her not to do something stupid. In the end, with tears in my eyes, I agreed to their relationship. To keep her from running away, I even promised to give her a $3,000 monthly allowance. My husband and I only made about $5,000 a month combined. To scrape together that $3,000, I practically lived at the office. I worked overtime every single night until I was so exhausted my vision blurred. And she took our blood, sweat, and tears to fund that thug’s lifestyle, bragging smugly to him: “That old bitch definitely has money hoarded away. I just have to keep pushing her, and she’ll spit it all out.” Thinking of all this, I clenched my fists tightly, turned around, and walked out of the room. “You old bitch! Even if you call Dad, it won’t change anything!” Thinking she had won again, my daughter slammed the knife down on the table with a loud CLANG. After smashing a few teacups to vent her remaining anger, she followed me into my bedroom. “Even if you drop to your knees and beg me, I won’t—” The rest of her sentence died in her throat as she stepped fully into the room. The next second, her voice shot up an entire octave: “What the hell are you doing?” Meeting her shocked stare, I zipped up her suitcase with practiced efficiency and rolled it over to her. “Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love.” Of course you two should be together. After all, your “good days” won’t truly begin until after you get pregnant. 2 My daughter never expected me to react this way. Her red-rimmed eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Seeing that she wasn’t moving, I gave the suitcase another push. “If you don’t leave now, it’s going to get dark. I’ll mail the rest of your stuff to you later.” “You old…” She paused, her meager brain struggling to process the situation. When it finally clicked, she let out a cold scoff. “Hah. To stop me from killing myself, you’re actually willing to agree to me and Tyler?” She waved her hand dismissively, putting on a show of profound generosity. “Forget it. I understand you’re getting old and can’t bear to be without me. I don’t have to leave. However, from now on, you are not allowed to interfere in my life. And you need to deposit $3,000 into my account every month. How I spend it is none of your business.” In that moment, from the bottom of my heart, I felt truly pathetic. From the moment she was born, my husband and I had pampered her. We held her in our mouths, afraid she’d melt; we held her in our hands, afraid she’d break. But to our utter shock, she grew up to be a compulsive liar, constantly making up excuses to demand money. Every time I dropped her off at my mom’s house, my mom would notice cash missing from her wallet afterward. Back then, my husband advocated for a severe punishment so she would learn her lesson. But I believed it was because we hadn’t given her enough of a sense of security. I believed girls should be raised with abundance so they wouldn’t be easily tempted. Over the years, I did everything in my power to give her the best. Whatever other kids had, I made sure she had too. And in the end? I gave my life for her, and her very first reaction was to film a video to create false evidence against me, and then use the tragedy to livestream and make money. “You’re wrong.” I sighed, shook my head, and patted her shoulder. “Mom is getting old. I can’t control you anymore, and honestly, I don’t want to. Starting today, whether you go to school or not is up to you. Who you date is up to you. You can leave this house whenever you want.” “But $3,000 is simply too much. Mom can’t afford it. You should go find someone else to be your mother.” “I knew you were just saying this to spite me! Just you wait, I’m not coming home tonight!” My daughter screamed, slammed the door, and stormed out. She still thought I was just bluffing. 3 Not long after she left, I headed out too. Having been trapped in the role of a mother for too long, I had spent years eating my daughter’s leftovers or the foods she disliked. Tonight, for the first time in forever, I treated myself to a premium steak and a glass of red wine. High-quality beef really is fantastic; no wonder she always demanded to eat it. The service at upscale restaurants is exactly as good as they say. Being taken care of feels completely different than taking care of someone else. Fully satisfied, I even went to see a movie, buying myself popcorn and ice cream. I had almost forgotten—years ago, I was a young girl too. I was also a cherished daughter held in my parents’ palms. When I returned home, I happened to see my daughter standing downstairs, talking to a group of neighbors. From a distance, I could only catch fragments: “My dad’s out of town on a business trip, and my mom is home alone, so naturally…” “If she doesn’t care about me, fine. I’ve been treated like this my whole life anyway. If I starve to death, whatever.” “Now she’s gone out again, who knows with who…” The neighbors were fanning themselves and whispering, shaking their heads judgmentally. It suddenly dawned on me why our neighbors had been giving me such dirty looks over the years. It was probably because my daughter never tired of slandering me behind my back. I had consulted a child psychologist before, learning that some children use lying and performative behavior in early childhood to gain adult attention. But I never expected that my daughter’s compulsive lying and unbridled malice would only escalate as she grew older. She spotted me, let out a loud scoff, and walked away without looking back. I immediately spoke up to clarify: “My daughter just loves to make things up. Everything she says is a lie. I just went out to have dinner by myself.” But no one responded. I turned to ask the neighbors, trying to smooth things over: “Ladies, out enjoying the cool air? Have you all eaten?” But they just gave me a few dismissive hums in response. I knew Rome wasn’t built in a day. The damage was done, and trying to explain myself now was useless. I could only let the truth slowly reveal itself over time. I didn’t say anything else and went upstairs. When I walked into the apartment, I found it completely trashed. Anything that could be smashed was shattered. The drawers were all pulled open and ransacked. It looked like the place had been robbed. My daughter’s messy, hateful handwriting was sprawled across my bedsheets in black marker: [You old bitch, so you won’t give me money, right? I’m staying with my boyfriend tonight! You’re going to regret this!] The life she was willingly destroying was hers, not mine. What did I have to regret? The louder she barked now, the harder reality was going to slap her in the face later. I let out a cold laugh, stripped the ruined sheets, put on fresh ones, and went to sleep. 4 The next day, as soon as I got home, I saw my daughter sitting in the living room with my former best friend, Evelyn. Evelyn was my husband’s junior in college. She used to have a massive crush on him, but after she was rejected, she pivoted and became my “best friend.” She had been in one serious relationship before, but the guy cheated on her and beat her. She had remained single ever since. Ever since my daughter was born, Evelyn was constantly at our house, buying her endless snacks, dolls, and limited-edition gaming consoles. When my daughter was young, if I ever disciplined her, she would immediately call Evelyn. Evelyn would come running over instantly to defend her. As my daughter got older and started talking back to me, she would always say: “You’re so annoying, always nagging me non-stop. Being your daughter is the worst.” “I don’t know how Dad could be so blind to choose you. You’re old and mean. If only Aunt Evelyn were my mom. She’s beautiful, generous, and she’s not cheap like you.” Those words hurt me deeply, but she didn’t care. She genuinely wanted Evelyn to be her mother. Right now, my daughter was leaning tearfully into Evelyn’s embrace, while Evelyn held her hand, comforting her non-stop. From my angle, they looked much more like a mother and daughter than I ever did with her. Hearing me come in, my daughter didn’t even lift her head, loudly exaggerating her accusations: “My mom literally locked me out yesterday. I had nowhere to go all night. My boyfriend was the only one who took me in.” “She refuses to give me food and says she’s cutting off my allowance forever. If she’s so poor, she never should have had a kid!” “I’m just bravely pursuing true love, what did I do wrong?!” Evelyn hugged her tighter by the shoulders: “You did nothing wrong. Your mother is too cruel. It’s the 21st century! Children should have the freedom to love whoever they want. She’s overstepping her bounds.” “Wuwuwu, Aunt Evelyn is the best. You treat me way better than my own biological mother.” Evelyn even suggested that on my daughter’s 18th birthday, she would formally adopt her as her goddaughter. My daughter agreed with immense joy. Listening to all of this, I just wanted to laugh. Besides the parents who gave you life and raised you, does anyone in this world truly treat a stranger well for no reason? I ignored the commentary and walked in with a smile: “Honey, Mom knows that no matter what I say, you won’t believe me. So, I decided to prove it with actions.” I paused, then spoke slowly: “When Mom went out yesterday, it was entirely for you. I already spoke with Tyler’s parents and arranged your engagement. I’m not asking for a single cent in a dowry. As soon as you two hit the legal age, you can get married.” “Your 18th birthday is coming up. Mom is going to throw a massive coming-of-age party for you. We’ll invite Tyler, and let everyone witness your happiness!” My daughter’s eyes widened, her face a picture of sheer shock and absolute delight. She was so excited she couldn’t speak. But what I didn’t expect was that Evelyn’s wrist would suddenly jerk, her face turning an incredibly ugly shade of pale. 5 Evelyn knew my daughter’s temperament well, and she knew me well enough to realize that I was being completely serious. Meeting my scrutinizing gaze, she opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately couldn’t force out a single word. “Mom, this is the right thing to do. Now this is the Mom I know. I had no idea what was wrong with you before.” My daughter raised an eyebrow, then pointed at Evelyn and said: “I want to officially acknowledge Aunt Evelyn as my godmother. We should hold the ceremony during my party too.” My daughter always spoke to me in that commanding, entitled tone, expecting everything to go exactly her way. But she didn’t know that there is a phrase in this world: death by flattery. Her belief that she was about to have a picture-perfect 18th birthday would be the beginning of her utter ruin. I smiled and agreed to everything. In a great mood, my daughter happily asked: “What are you going to do about my wedding gifts, then?” I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll be satisfied.” According to the timeline of my past life, by this point, my daughter had already slept with Tyler. Not long from now, on her 18th birthday, she would be eating dinner and suddenly start dry heaving. We’d go to the hospital, and she’d find out she was pregnant. I had felt like the sky was falling back then, begging her to get an abortion and break up with Tyler. But she said: “This is the crystallization of my love with Tyler. I am absolutely keeping it.” Because of this, she dropped out of high school, completely cut ties with my husband and me, and happily moved into Tyler’s house. In my past life, because she was pregnant, Tyler only reluctantly agreed to take responsibility under intense pressure from his parents. Wasn’t that baby the best possible wedding gift for my daughter? 6 That afternoon, coming down from my office building, I unexpectedly ran into my husband, who had been out of town on a business trip. He was still rolling his suitcase, clearly having just rushed back. “Why are you here?” I walked up to him. He didn’t look happy. He handed me a warm bag of roasted chestnuts and spoke with a dark expression: “Fiona, why did you agree to let her get engaged to Tyler? Weren’t you always against it? Don’t you know what kind of person Tyler is?” I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked: “How did you find out about this?” My daughter definitely wouldn’t have told him, afraid he would object. If my husband knew, someone must have specifically sought him out to tell him. Right on cue, as soon as I spoke, Evelyn stepped out from the side. She sighed dramatically. “Fiona, I’m not trying to lecture you, but what kind of biological mother pushes her own child into a fire pit?” “It’s fine if kids just want to date and have fun, but for marriage, how could you let her settle for someone like that?” “Mark, you need to talk to her. What will people think when they find out? Isn’t she ruining the child’s entire life?!” Evelyn reached out to grab my husband’s arm, but he took a quick step back to avoid her. He came over, took my purse for me, and spoke with his back to Evelyn: “This is our family’s private business. Thank you for telling me, but my wife and I will discuss the rest when we get home.” Evelyn, who had been passionately lecturing me, was completely caught off guard by my husband throwing cold water on her. Her outstretched hand hung stiffly in the air, and her eyes slowly grew dark. My husband had already put his arm around my shoulder, just like he used to, and said softly to me: “I know our daughter has been driving you crazy, and you made a bad decision in a moment of anger. I’ve been working really hard lately, and my boss is about to give me a promotion and a raise. I know you’re a loving mother. From now on, you don’t have to worry about her allowance anymore.” Using the same coaxing tone he used when we were first dating, he said: “Be good. Let’s go home to talk. If anyone bullied you, tell me, and I’ll help you teach them a lesson!” All the grievances I had suffered recently surged into my heart because of his words. For a second, my eyes stung, and I wanted nothing more than to lean on his shoulder and cry. He only knew our daughter was rebellious and unruly; he had no idea I had been genuinely killed by her in a past life. If I told him the truth now, he probably wouldn’t believe me, but I would definitely find an opportunity to make him see the reality. Seeing my husband leading me away, Evelyn panicked and tried to step in front of us again. I couldn’t help but look at her sarcastically: “Evelyn, you’re always so invested in my daughter’s affairs. If people didn’t know better, they’d think you were her biological mother. Since that’s the case, why don’t you go ahead and arrange her wedding gifts too.” I don’t know which of my words triggered her, but Evelyn’s eyes suddenly darted around in panic. She muttered, “What are you talking about? I watched Mia grow up; of course my heart aches for her.” I didn’t even bother replying, just let my husband lead me away. … When we got back that day, I only said one sentence to my husband: “You travel a lot, so you don’t know what I’ve had to live through at home. If you dare try to convince me otherwise or stop me, then our marriage is over.” My husband was terrified. Seeing how absolutely resolute I was, he finally just sighed: “I married you. You are the most important person in my life. As for the kid, since she’s willing, then let her do whatever she wants.”

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The moment the plane stalled and entered a nosedive, my boyfriend—the captain—instinctively called out to his co-pilot, his “first love”: “If we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn’t it?” Later, their textbook emergency landing became a legendary tale in the aviation world, while I, the air traffic controller who guided them from the tower, voluntarily resigned. A long time later, we crossed paths again. It was a flight he was commanding. Over the cabin PA, he announced that he had been waiting for someone to come home. I stood at the end of the jet bridge, waiting for him to disembark. When he finally appeared, I smiled and asked: “Captain Carter, haven’t you and Ms. Davis picked out a plot together yet? Are you short on cash for the urns?” 1 I met Ryan Carter in college. I had just graduated and was assigned to the busiest air traffic control tower in the country, Chicago O’Hare. During the evening rush hour, a massive thunderstorm hit. Two planes, circling in the holding pattern, started arguing over the radio about who had priority to land. “Alright, that’s enough! Yelling until your voices are hoarse isn’t going to help. You’re two grown men flying commercial airliners, are you really arguing like children up there? You’re in a hurry? We’re in a bigger hurry down here in the tower!” Ryan’s cool, deep voice cut through the radio waves, carrying a powerful, calming energy that instantly settled my nerves. He was a prodigy pilot for Horizon Air, promoted to Captain in just his fourth year, yet he only flew the most grueling, exhausting short-haul domestic routes. During every shift we shared, I’d hear him over the radio: “Good morning, O’Hare,” “Good afternoon,” “Good evening.” Later, it evolved into: “Good evening. I’ll wait for you, let’s go home together.” I was the one who confessed my feelings first. We lived together for five years. He was the perfect boyfriend—tall, handsome, gentle, and incredibly disciplined. Even when flying red-eye routes, surrounded by female colleagues offering him snacks and coffee, he would only drink the terrible, bitter ginger tea I made for him. “I’m spoken for. I have someone waiting for me at home. I’ll have to pass on the treats.” Ryan’s phone was always open to me. We shared our schedules, our locations, and our social circles. I thought there were no secrets between us. But on an ordinary morning, during a lull in air traffic, my trainee suddenly leaned over with some gossip: “Hey, did you know that the gorgeous co-pilot flying with your boyfriend today is Chloe Davis? I heard she’s a legend. She turned down offers from Delta and United just to fly for Horizon. She’s so badass, I love her.” I froze for a second, asking him to repeat the co-pilot’s name. Chloe. It wasn’t an uncommon name, but it immediately triggered a memory. It was the name that had been sitting in the background banner of Ryan’s Facebook profile for five years. Ryan rarely posted, but I had once asked him about the tiny text in the bottom right corner of his banner image: “Wait, Chloe.” He just smiled, brushed it off, and said he just thought the picture looked cool. I didn’t want to overthink it, but could it really just be a coincidence? “Flight HZ3400? HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Can anyone on this frequency try to hail HZ3400?” My trainee’s frantic voice snapped me back to reality. My eyes shot to the radar screen. HZ3400, which should have been cruising at 35,000 feet and had just entered O’Hare airspace, had suddenly lost contact with the ground and was rapidly losing altitude. And that was the flight Ryan was commanding. 2 “HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Your altitude is dropping rapidly. HZ3400, can you hear me?” My trainee’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. He looked at me, his eyes pleading for help. In those crucial ten seconds, my mind went completely blank. Relying purely on muscle memory, I took over his headset and microphone. I repeated the call sign over and over, operating like a precision machine, flawlessly executing the emergency protocols drilled into me from the manual. The altitude kept dropping. The moment ground fire and EMS crews were dispatched to the runway, the image of Ryan hugging me before he left for work flashed in my mind: “If your cold gets worse, just call out sick. Sleep in, and I’ll make you some soup when I get home tonight.” If he and the hundreds of living, breathing people on that plane disappeared right in front of my eyes… I knew I would have a complete mental breakdown right there in the tower. Static. Then, HZ3400’s radio crackled to life. I immediately initiated contact, transmitting crucial information and requesting the status of the aircraft and passengers. But despite my repeated questions, the only thing that came through the radio was Ryan’s deep, emotional murmur: “Chloe, if we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn’t it?” The signal was terrible, the audio was weak, but to me, it was deafening. Responsibility. Duty. In that moment, it seemed they had abandoned it all. He was willing to intertwine his fate with hers, to follow her into death. So what did that make me? And what about the hundreds of lives on board? Were they just giving up on them? 3 At 5:30 AM, HZ3400 executed a miraculous, textbook emergency landing at O’Hare, pushing the aircraft to its absolute limits. The flight crew’s god-tier maneuvers instantly went viral, becoming the explosive headline of the day. But what immediately followed was an investigation and a search for accountability. The O’Hare tower was downgraded to a regional control center. This should have had absolutely nothing to do with us, but because the incident occurred within my trainee’s frequency block, and because I subsequently took over, we were mandated to participate in the investigation to provide a transparent account to the public. Following the accident, both Ryan and I were too overwhelmed to contact each other. Our first meeting was a full 24 hours later, when the entire flight crew and tower staff were convened to reconstruct the events. That’s when I finally met Chloe Davis. She had a sharp bob, pale skin, and striking features. Her sharp eyebrows gave her a commanding presence, yet there was a subtle, feminine softness to her. When asked if the tower had transmitted the correct information, Chloe decisively shook her head: “I didn’t hear it. Or rather, I didn’t have time to listen to that garbage.” Chloe sat up straight, speaking bluntly without hesitation: “I’m a straight shooter, so I’ll just say it. The female voice from the tower was disorganized, her technical proficiency was severely lacking, and she sounded like she was trying to use a cutesy ‘baby voice’ to flirt. In an emergency situation, it severely impacted my judgment.” “What do you mean you didn’t hear it? Why are you slandering my mentor? She was speaking completely normally! That wasn’t a ‘baby voice’!” I put a hand on my trainee’s shoulder to calm him down, my gaze instinctively shifting to Ryan. He was sitting rigidly upright. From the moment he walked in, his eyes had been blankly fixed on the table, and he actively avoided making eye contact with me several times. I was certain he heard my calls over the radio, and he knew I had heard his confession to Chloe. That’s why he was avoiding me. But the next second, he spoke softly: “I apologize. I was entirely focused on the emergency landing. I don’t remember anything else.” The truth was, the tower had the complete audio recording to back me up. But the flight crew’s conflicting statements and Chloe’s baseless accusations would inevitably prolong the investigation and generate negative press. From the moment Ryan gave that response, I knew our relationship was over. 4 [Mentor, I’m so scared. The tower looks like they’re going to hold someone accountable. I just graduated, I don’t want to lose my job… My parents are sick and need money, what am I going to do…] I hadn’t gone home that day. I spent two days passed out in an airport hotel. When I finally woke up, the only message on my phone was from my trainee. My chat with Ryan was completely empty. Opening social media, the news was absolutely saturated with interviews featuring Ryan and Chloe. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the sunlight, accepting endless praise and gratitude. The narrative was that they were college alumni who had faced death together, sharing an extraordinary, unspoken bond. Meanwhile, the hashtag “#OHareTowerIncompetence” was trending in the top fifteen. Clicking on it revealed a flood of hateful comments: [Did Chloe mention someone using a ‘baby voice’? The ATC tower is a serious, high-stress environment. Who the hell was she trying to flirt with? Is she there to work or to pick up men?] [Let me put on my tinfoil hat for a second. Could the incident be related to the ‘baby voice’? Was she trying to compete with Chloe for male attention, so she deliberately withheld information?] [Do the people above me have any common sense? The actual audio hasn’t been released yet. How can you just blindly accuse someone?] [Are the male captain and Chloe a thing? Chloe is so badass and straightforward, but the way the captain looks at her is definitely not purely professional.] … Because of Chloe’s “accidental” slip of the tongue, even before the investigation concluded, public pressure was forcing the FAA to penalize the “baby voice” controller and issue a public apology. And we all knew that cockpit voice recordings are rarely released to the public. Even if internal reviews cleared me, they had to give the public a scapegoat. Chloe was clearly targeting me. [What are you afraid of? The online hate is directed at me. It has nothing to do with you. Just focus on your work.] I replied to my trainee, then proceeded to delete Ryan’s number and block him on everything. I submitted my resignation, turned off my phone, and booked a flight out of the country for a vacation. She really went out of her way. If Chloe wanted a toxic, garbage man that badly, I was more than happy to wrap him up and hand him over. Five days later, a text from an unknown number popped up on my screen: [Give me a little time. Chloe is… different from other people. But our relationship isn’t what you think it is. I just need time to figure out my own feelings.] [I don’t have time.] [What about the apartment? And all your stuff? Are you just abandoning it?] [The lease isn’t up yet, do whatever you want with it. Throw my stuff away. I don’t need the money.] [And what about me? Are you abandoning me too?] I hesitated for a moment before sending my final reply: [Before you ask other people that, take a hard look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve me.] 5 It was a funny coincidence. On my very first day abroad, I ran into someone I knew: Liam Sterling. Four or five professional cameras were set up on the beach. He was leaning casually against the trunk of a weeping willow, posing for a shoot. Dressed in flowing white linen, his slightly wavy hair caught the ocean breeze. He looked like the moon over a mountain or fresh snow on a sunny day—his smile radiating a youthful, effortless charisma. Curious, I stopped to watch for a moment. Liam spotted me instantly and started waving frantically, calling me over like an oversized, over-excited Golden Retriever. We walked to a quiet corner to chat. After exchanging some brief pleasantries, he cut straight to the chase: “I couldn’t reach you on your phone! I need a huge favor, Maya!” (Maya translates to Tang Xian) The Sterling and Miller (Tang) families were old family friends. We were both the youngest children in our respective families, enjoying the most freedom within our wealthy households. Whether he chose to be an A-list actor or I chose to be a modestly paid air traffic controller, no one intervened. Since Liam’s acting career blew up, we rarely kept in touch. But right now, he looked desperate enough to hug my leg and beg: “I just want to focus on acting, but my agency keeps forcing me into fake showmance PR stunts! Please pretend to be my civilian girlfriend and help me out! Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one I trust!” “A celebrity wanting to publicly date?” “I don’t rely on rabid fangirls for my career. Can’t a normal 27-year-old guy have a 28-year-old civilian girlfriend?” I was still hesitating when my phone rang. It was the director of the ATC tower, sounding frantic: “Maya! Did I approve your resignation? I haven’t retired yet, since when is it your turn to resign and take the fall for this?!” “Get your ass back here and clock in! When the investigation results come out, we’re going to slap those bastards right in the face!” So I could go back? Alright then. If there was a turning point, I was going to make sure they paid the price. Nobody gets off easy! With that in mind, I smiled and playfully tipped Liam’s chin up: “I’ll help you, and you’ll help me.” 6 Aviation accident investigations take a long time, but the HZ3400 crew’s incredible emergency landing was an undeniable fact, and they received a public commendation. Horizon Air announced that the two captains preferred to keep a low profile and declined further media coverage, which surprisingly earned them another wave of public goodwill. Correspondingly, Maya Miller from the O’Hare Tower was issued one formal demerit. The Tower Director received a severe demerit and a formal reprimand. The specific reasons weren’t made public, but everyone internally knew it was done purely to placate the media. On my first day back at work after the scandal, I had barely finished my evening shift when I was dragged out to a coffee shop for a get-together. The flight crews that frequently flew through O’Hare had a private group chat. We were all pretty close, and everyone was concerned about how I was holding up. As I approached the semi-private booth, a loud, hearty laugh reached my ears. Chloe was there. Her blunt, “open” personality made her very popular in these circles. She easily became “one of the guys,” and she was currently recounting the story of the emergency landing. When I appeared, the atmosphere went dead silent for a second. Chloe, holding an iced Americano, generously pulled me into a seat, telling me not to be shy: “Since we’re all here today, let me formally apologize to Maya.” Chloe spoke before I could, a playful smirk dancing on her lips: “I haven’t been back in the States for long, and my communication skills aren’t great. I’m a bit too blunt. I just felt that Ms. Miller’s voice was incredibly sweet. I had no idea using the wrong words in an interview would cause such a massive headache for her. Please forgive me!” The two female flight attendants at the table remained silent, but the group of male pilots clearly ate up Chloe’s act. They eagerly jumped in to smooth things over, saying it was all water under the bridge. They hadn’t heard the cockpit voice recording. Of course they thought it was fine. “Captain Davis is so young and accomplished. How could I hold a grudge? But no matter how blunt your personality is, when you’re flying into O’Hare, you still have to follow ATC instructions. We have a long road ahead of us.” Chloe froze for a moment, then replied with thinly veiled sarcasm: “I was just making a little joke with Ms. Miller. Why so serious? Ms. Miller seems like she has quite a temper, huh? Come on, guys, teach me how to handle her so I can land safely! I’m so scared she’s going to direct me straight into Lake Michigan, haha!” However, when she finished, the male pilots didn’t laugh. The atmosphere instantly turned icy. After a brief silence, Captain Davis from TransGlobal Airlines spoke up, his tone serious: “Chloe, some jokes shouldn’t be made. Maya’s competence is undeniable. Even with a 102-degree fever, she can flawlessly guide planes in during the evening rush. You don’t know her, so don’t make careless comments.” Chloe immediately took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. I casually remarked: “Captain Davis is quite confident. Badmouthing me right in front of my friends? I guess that’s just your ‘blunt personality,’ haha.” The group chuckled coldly in agreement. Chloe bit her lower lip in humiliation, her knuckles turning white around her coffee cup. Several flight crews had to leave for their shifts. As they departed, no one even glanced in her direction. The next crew to land was Horizon Air. Ryan was slowly walking over, dragging his flight bag. Chloe’s eyes lit up instantly: “Ryan, over here! Wow, hurry up and translate for me! My English isn’t great, and I think I accidentally offended someone!” 7 Ryan didn’t hesitate: “Chloe hasn’t been back in the country long. If she misspoke, don’t take it to heart. She didn’t mean any harm.” Most of the pilots who had been chatting earlier had already left. Chloe boldly leaned against Ryan’s shoulder, spouting nonsense: “Exactly! I don’t even know what I said to upset Ms. Miller. I didn’t mean any harm!” Ryan’s body stiffened as his eyes found me sitting in the corner. For a moment, he looked completely panicked. A flight attendant named Lily spoke up: “Chloe, do you think we’re deaf? Is that really what you said earlier?” Chloe didn’t care. She even shot me a provocative look. It was Ryan’s subconscious trust and protectiveness that gave her the confidence to show off. She acted like a victor returning home after five years, easily reclaiming the man’s heart. I lowered my eyes, grabbed Lily’s hand, and smiled: “Since the main characters are all here, why don’t we ask them to tell us the story of what happened that day?” Ryan hadn’t expected me to bring it up. He instinctively frowned. “I was losing my mind in the tower that day. I kept calling HZ3400, asking if they could hear me, asking for their status. And then, guess how Captain Carter responded?” In a flash, everyone’s eyes locked onto Ryan. His hesitation made Chloe suddenly panic. She instinctively gripped her coffee cup tighter. “What did you say, Captain Carter? Tell us about your heroic deeds.” The air was silent for a long time. Uncharacteristically, Ryan took three large gulps of his iced Americano before speaking in a devastatingly hoarse voice: “I reported the aircraft’s status… and then focused entirely on managing the emergency. Nothing else.” If emotions had a sound, Chloe’s internal breakdown in that moment would have been deafening. She could no longer maintain her fake smile. The corners of her eyes turned a tearful, humiliated shade of red. Remember this: a cowardly, indecisive, toxic man will hurt the next woman exactly the same way he hurt you. And the debt you two owe me? We’re far from settled.

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When my mom was pregnant with my little brother, a prenatal checkup revealed he had XYY syndrome. Everyone begged her to terminate the pregnancy. My mom cried and flat-out refused. I asked her what “XYY” meant. She said to me, “It means your brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect his big sister.” I half-understood it. Until he was seven years old, and he took a brick and smashed it into my mom’s head over and over again. Then, I finally understood what kind of “man” he was. 1 I was six years old when my mom got pregnant. A few months in, they paid a private clinic to find out the gender. When she found out it was a boy, my mom was ecstatic. Even though my dad always said having his “little princess” was enough, having a son had always been my mom’s ultimate wish. Until the amniocentesis results came back, and everything changed. They said the unborn baby had an XYY karyotype. Also known as “Super Male Syndrome.” I eavesdropped outside the door. My dad was pleading with her to give it up: “Let it go, Sarah. We have Harper, and that’s enough! The doctors said these kids have a very high risk of severe antisocial and aggressive behavior. We can’t raise a kid like that.” Tears streamed down my mom’s face. She shook her head, her hands protectively covering her belly. “No, I can’t do it. Look how big he is already. You want to end your own child’s life just because of something a doctor said?” My dad frowned, at a loss for words. My mom said firmly, “Didn’t we raise Harper to be a wonderful girl? I believe this baby will be fine too. We just need to guide him properly…” My dad, speechless with anger, went out to the patio to smoke, leaving my mom crying with red eyes. I walked over and asked, “Mom, what does ‘Super Male’ mean?” She looked at me sadly, thought for a moment, and said, “It means your little brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect his big sister.” I hesitated. “Will you and Dad only love him and not me?” She stroked my hair. “How could that happen? Mom loves you the most.” I smiled. A few months later, my brother Caleb was born. Everyone who saw him praised how beautiful he was. Big eyes, fair skin—he looked like an angel from a greeting card. Whenever someone praised him, my mom beamed with pride. She would say, how could such a cute baby ever be violent? She was going to love him with everything she had. Shielded by my mother’s overwhelming love, Caleb slowly grew up. He babbled, he cooed, and he began to express his emotions. It was just that the way he expressed his emotions was very different from other kids. If he didn’t like the carefully prepared baby food, he would just flip the bowl onto the floor. If a toy car ran out of batteries and stopped moving, he would fly into a rage, stomping on it brutally until it was smashed to pieces. Only when it was utterly destroyed would he smile. He had an extreme destructive urge. His toys never survived a second day. Once the toys were gone, he destroyed other things. It was as if obliterating objects brought him endless joy. No matter how my dad tried to discipline him, it was useless. My mom practiced “positive reinforcement.” “Good boy! Our baby is so strong!” I felt wronged and complained to my mom: “Why do you ground me when I break something, but you never punish Caleb?” My mom sighed. “Caleb is different. You can only guide him gently. Harper, you’re the older sister, you need to be understanding.” I didn’t get it. This was just blatant favoritism. 2 To cultivate a gentle temperament in Caleb, my mom bought us each a pet rabbit. She smiled and said, “You have to treat the bunnies well, okay? They’re living creatures too.” Caleb stroked the rabbit’s ears, looking like he absolutely adored it, and nodded. But the next morning, when my mom went to the patio to change their lettuce, she let out a blood-curdling scream. I rushed out. The rabbit Caleb was given had been sliced completely open and was dead. Its intestines were spilling out all over the cage. Meanwhile, my rabbit was huddled in the corner of its cage, shivering violently, its ears pinned back in terror. Caleb stood behind my mom, smiling as he reached his arms up for a hug. “Mommy, I want another bunny!” I held my rabbit, a violent shudder running down my spine. Ever since Caleb was born, all of my parents’ energy had been focused on him. Even my grandmother moved in specifically to help take care of him. He became the center of the universe that our family revolved around. I have to admit, most of the time he looked no different from any other little boy. He had a sweet smile, loved snacks, and loved cartoons. But a boy who seemed that bright and cheerful could turn into a demon in the very next second. When Grandma told him he couldn’t have more candy, he bit down on her arm with the ferocity of a wild jackal. No matter who pulled at him, he wouldn’t let go. When I was watching cartoons, and Mom went to the balcony to get him, he casually picked up the heavy remote control and smashed it into my head. Blood dripped down my forehead, and he just flashed a look of pure delight. When he finally reached daycare age, my parents spent a fortune to get him into an elite preschool that focused on child behavioral development. But it wasn’t long before the teachers called my parents in. The reason? An older kid had bullied him, making fun of him for being small. Nobody knows where he found it, but during nap time, Caleb snuck into the older kids’ room while the teacher was in the restroom, used a lighter to set the kid’s bedsheets on fire, sprinted out, and locked the door behind him. If the teacher hadn’t returned in time, the consequences would have been catastrophic! The teachers were horrified. “Does your child watch violent movies? I’ve never seen a kid like this in my life! This is terrifying!” Under pressure from the other parents, Caleb was expelled. My parents bowed, apologized endlessly, and paid a massive settlement to make it go away. Caleb stood to the side, biting his fingernails as he watched my parents humiliate themselves, giggling and laughing. The teacher asked him what was so funny. Caleb said, “I wanted to watch you all burn!” All the blood drained from my dad’s face. He slapped Caleb across the face in front of everyone. Caleb was knocked to the ground. He wailed at the top of his lungs. The bystanders watched coldly. Only my mom threw herself on top of him to protect him. “It’s Mommy’s fault! It’s all Mommy’s fault!” 3 My dad and my mom had a massive fight. My dad roared from the bedroom: “We never should have kept him! He’s a monster!” My mom pointed a finger at his nose, screaming hysterically: “Even if he’s a monster, he’s your flesh and blood! He’s already here! What’s the point of saying this now?!” My dad tried to argue but couldn’t find the words. He left my mom crying alone in the room. My mom exhausted herself getting Caleb into another preschool. But instead of just pulling little girls’ hair, he bullied the younger kids, shoving a toddler’s head into the toilet and forcing him to drink the water. Seeing a teacher who was seven months pregnant, Caleb actually told the other kids he wanted to kick her hard in the stomach. Later, he really did it. When the pregnant teacher turned to go to the restroom, he intentionally tripped her. She lost her balance and fell forward. If someone hadn’t caught her in time, it would have been a disaster. The teacher’s husband caused a massive scene, demanding emotional distress compensation and demanding to know how a child so young could be so purely evil. The principal had no choice. She refunded our tuition and practically begged my mom: “Please take your child somewhere else. We can’t handle him. I’ve run this preschool for thirty years, and I’ve never seen a kid like this!” My parents tried everything—bribery, begging—but nothing worked. Finally, my mom gave up. She just had Grandma watch him at home until he was old enough for elementary school. As the only grandson, Grandma spoiled him rotten. Whatever he wanted, she gave him. Because of her age and bad knees, going up and down the stairs of our apartment building was incredibly painful for her. Yet, she would go to the grocery store every single day to buy whatever specific food Caleb craved, never complaining. Who would have thought that one day, just as Grandma returned from buying groceries and reached the top of the stairs, Caleb would come charging out of the apartment, staring at his video game console. He didn’t even try to dodge her. The grocery bags tumbled down the stairs, followed by the heavy thud of Grandma’s body rolling down the flight of steps. Caleb didn’t even look at the grandmother who had just plummeted down the stairs. He just kept playing his game, his laughter echoing through the hallway. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. Because of that fall, Grandma was paralyzed from the waist down. My dad went crazy, slapping Caleb over and over. He looked like he wanted to murder him. My mom cried and clung to his legs, screaming, “He’s just a child!” My dad roared, “He’s not a child! He’s a monster!” He slumped into a chair, muttering to himself, “We should have aborted him. We should have aborted him.” Caleb glared at him with pure hatred. Only I walked up to my dad. I told him not to be sad, that Grandma would get better. My dad pulled me into a tight hug, tears suddenly falling from his eyes. When I got back from the hospital, I was in a great mood. I hummed a song while feeding my rabbit lettuce. My poor rabbit was still traumatized by the brutal death of its companion; it shivered whenever anyone came near. I shoved the lettuce against its mouth. “Eat.” The rabbit wouldn’t open its mouth. “Why won’t you eat?” Finally, I opened the cage, pried its mouth open, and watched the lettuce go down its throat. Only then did I leave, satisfied. 4 After Grandma was paralyzed, there was another person in the house who needed constant care. To prevent any more “accidents,” my mom quit her job to stay home and look after Caleb and Grandma. No one knows why Caleb pushed Grandma, but according to him, he “thought it was fun.” He had always been like this. Seeing others suffer was fun to him. His joy was built entirely on the pain of others. After being betrayed by her precious grandson, Grandma’s personality completely changed. She stopped talking to Caleb and finally realized my worth. Whenever there was something good to eat, she would call me over and save it for me. She didn’t give Caleb a single ounce of warmth. Caleb caught us talking and sharing snacks several times. He would stare at us with a dark, brooding look: “What are you guys doing?” We stayed silent and didn’t answer. He would turn around and go watch cartoons, and I would breathe a sigh of relief. After that, Caleb became incredibly reckless, completely ignoring the feelings of anyone else in the house. When told he couldn’t light fireworks outside, he decided to light them inside the living room. To prevent him from burning the house down, my mom confiscated all his toys and lighters. Until one day shortly after. Grandma was taking a nap, and my mom and I went to the supermarket. My mom warned Caleb: “Do not go near the kitchen. Stay in the living room and wait for us, you hear me?” Caleb gave a sweet, innocent smile and agreed. An hour later, when we returned, we smelled smoke before we even opened the door. Panicking, my mom threw the door open. The house was filled with smoke. She screamed Caleb’s name like a madwoman. Caleb was standing in the living room, perfectly fine and unharmed. But when I went to look for Grandma, I realized the smoke was pouring out of her bedroom. Grandma was still lying in bed. I covered my nose and yelled, “Grandma, Grandma, wake up!” She didn’t respond. I yelled a few more times. My mom rushed in and shook her: “Mom! Mom! What’s wrong? Mom!” Grandma remained lifeless. As the smoke cleared slightly, I could see her lips had turned a dark, bruised purple. My mom with trembling fingers reached out to check her breathing. Two seconds later, she let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed onto the floor. Grandma was dead. 5 Soon, police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks completely surrounded our building. The paramedics pulled a white sheet over Grandma’s body. A firefighter looked at the shredded firecracker paper covering the living room floor and let out a long sigh. The firefighter told the police: “Preliminary assessment is the child was setting off M-80s inside the house. The elderly woman was asleep, suffered a severe shock, and had a sudden, fatal heart attack.” A police officer frowned at my mom. “Leaving a young child home alone is bad enough, but letting him play with explosives? Do you have zero common sense as a parent?” My mom still hadn’t recovered from the shock. She stuttered, “I… I didn’t know…” The police looked at her in disbelief. Meanwhile, Caleb sat on the couch sucking on a lollipop, acting as if nothing had happened, watching the commotion and giggling. Someone glanced at Caleb and muttered, “Look at that kid. His grandmother just died in a freak accident and he’s sitting there laughing.” But they didn’t know. Caleb literally had no heart. When Grandma’s body was wheeled past me, my nose stung. Even though she was only kind to me at the very end, those were still memories I cherished. Right then, my dad rushed home, just in time to see Grandma being loaded into the ambulance. He leaned against the doorframe, his legs gave out, and he slowly slid down to the floor. My mom protectively stepped in front of Caleb. She said weakly, “You… you need to calm down. Mom was already in her 70s, her heart was never good to begin with.” My dad had already gotten the news on his way home. His eyes were locked onto Caleb, overflowing with bottomless hatred. Suddenly, he let out a guttural roar, shoved my mom to the floor, grabbed his heavy leather briefcase, and swung it directly at Caleb’s head. The metal clasp of the briefcase struck Caleb, knocking him to the floor. Blood instantly poured from his nose, staining the hardwood. My mom screamed and clung to my dad’s leg. “It was just an accident! It was an accident!” My dad yanked my mom up from the floor and roared, “Get the hell out of my sight!” Seeing things escalating, the police quickly pulled my dad away. “The tragedy already happened, please calm down! You don’t discipline your kid normally, and now that someone is dead, you resort to beating him?!” A firefighter quickly chimed in, “Exactly. If this had started a structural fire, could you take responsibility for the casualties in the whole building?” Taking advantage of the chaos, Caleb sprinted back to his room. When he came back out, he was holding the remaining string of firecrackers. He lit them right in front of all of us and threw them directly at my dad. “I want to play with fireworks inside!” The popping and banging of the firecrackers echoed through the room again, filling the air with smoke. Everyone in the room fell dead silent, staring at Caleb in horror. He was a monster. 6 Grandma’s death was ultimately ruled an accidental death. After sorting out her funeral, the house was left in ruins. From that day on, my dad never spoke a single word to Caleb. He treated him like he was invisible, and he barely even spoke to my mom. After Grandma was cremated, my dad held her urn and said coldly to my mom, “Let’s get a divorce.” This time, there was no explosive argument between them. Caleb silently appeared behind me. He didn’t speak. He just stared at me with dead eyes. Early the next morning, my dad had his bags packed. The house was quiet; my mom was leaning against the headboard, crying with red eyes. He left all the money and the house to my mom, and voluntarily gave up custody of both of us. At the moment he was leaving, I cried and asked him, “Dad, are you really leaving?” He smiled bitterly. “Harper, be a good girl. Dad knows you are the most sensible one. Take good care of Mom. If anything happens, make sure to call Dad.” I sobbed, “If I’m so sensible, then please don’t leave!” He sighed heavily. “Harper, don’t blame yourself. It’s all Dad’s fault. I never should have gotten married and had kids. I’m not capable of living a normal life, and I’ve caused so much suffering for everyone else.” With that, he grabbed his suitcase and left without ever looking back. From that moment on, it was just the three of us left in the house. Because I promised my dad, I worked even harder. In the middle school placement exams, I scored exceptionally well and was admitted to the best middle school in the city. Caleb, however, because of the arson incident, made every school in the district refuse to take him. Seeing that no school would accept him, my mom came up with a plan: she legally changed his name, and then we moved to a completely different school district. After a lot of hassle, she finally managed to get him enrolled just before September rolled around. My mom aged drastically over those few months. The divorce hit her hard, but she still refused to give up on Caleb. She always hoped her love could somehow change him. But Caleb used his actions to prove to her that some kids are just born bad seeds, and they can never, ever be changed. 7 After starting middle school, I consistently maintained the number one rank in my grade. Caleb also transitioned somewhat smoothly into elementary school. Although he was frequently sent to the principal’s office for pulling girls’ hair, fighting, and stabbing classmates with compass needles, thankfully, no major disasters occurred. Until his classmates all started getting allowances. Driven by a child’s vanity, he suddenly discovered the perks of having money. One day, the $5,000 collected for a class field trip went missing from the classroom. The school took it extremely seriously and pulled the security footage immediately. The camera clearly captured Caleb sneaking back into the classroom during recess and taking the cash envelope from the teacher’s desk. The school called my mom in. Five thousand dollars is no small amount. The school administration and the principal had a very serious sit-down with her. Caleb was publicly disciplined at school, and my mom had to apologize and pay restitution in the parent group chat. As for the five thousand dollars, Caleb had already blown through all of it at the arcade. I remember it clearly. That was the day I attended the district’s academic awards ceremony. I waited until the very end, but I never saw my mom in the audience. I walked home alone, holding my certificate of excellence. It wasn’t until late at night that my mom dragged her exhausted body home, bringing Caleb with her. I sat in the dark living room, clutching my straight-A report card and the award. “Mom.” My mom saw me and froze. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Did you eat?” I didn’t answer. She walked toward me, confused, until she saw the certificate in my hand. She stared at it for a long time, then murmured, “Mom forgot…” Caleb stood in the doorway and said coldly, “I’m hungry.” My mom ignored him. Instead, she pulled me into a tight hug, choking back sobs as she said, “Harper, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so much these past few years.” “It’s okay, Mom. It just means I need to do better.” At that moment, Caleb raised his voice again, “I said I’m hungry!” As my mom cried, her breathing started to quicken. She involuntarily doubled over, her face turning bright red. Her old condition was flaring up. I quickly said, “Mom, I’ll go get your medicine.” She clutched her chest, gasping for air, and slumped onto the sofa. Then, the unthinkable happened. Caleb suddenly picked up a heavy ceramic plate from the table and hurled it directly at my mom’s head. It happened so fast, no one could react. My mom screamed. Her brow bone split open instantly, and blood poured down her face. Caleb was still screaming, “I SAID I’M HUNGRY!” My mom wiped the blood from her face, rushed over, and slapped Caleb twice across the face. She screamed and cried, “Do I owe you?! Do I owe you something?! What more do you want from me?! I never should have given birth to you!” Caleb said nothing. He just glared at her with venomous hatred. If looks were knives, my mom would have been carved into a thousand pieces. 8 Over the years, raising Caleb left my mom covered in physical and emotional scars. As he grew older, he became more and more like a ticking time bomb. You never knew when he would explode. Stumbling along, he had changed schools twice by the time he reached sixth grade. I was already in high school, usually living in the dorms. One day, my homeroom teacher suddenly called me out of class. She said Caleb’s school had called; they couldn’t reach my mom. To make ends meet, my mom was working two night-shift jobs. She slept during the day, so she likely slept through the calls. I got permission to leave and rushed to his school. When I got there, I found out Caleb had gotten into an argument with the class president. Since Caleb couldn’t beat him in a fight, he took a fountain pen and stabbed it straight through the boy’s hand, pinning it to the desk. The paramedics had to use an electric saw to cut the pen to free him. The class president had two severed tendons. When they finally removed the pen at the hospital, there were chunks of flesh stuck inside the barrel. That boy had just won first place in a national youth piano competition! Even if his hand slowly recovered, its dexterity would be permanently compromised. His music career was dead, killed by my brother. Caleb was expelled again. This time, the victim’s parents were both lawyers. They were relentless, refused any mediation, and immediately filed criminal charges. My mom knelt on their front porch, begging them to spare Caleb this one time. They just called the police to have her removed. The boy’s mother looked my mom dead in the eye and said, “I’ve heard about your family. I pity you. But some kids are just born demons. They don’t deserve mercy! I’ve seen kids like yours—zero empathy, highly dangerous.” “None of them ever end up well!” Because Caleb wasn’t even fourteen, the court could only mandate juvenile detention and massive restitution. My mom had to drain every last penny the family had left to pay them off. After that incident, my mom aged another ten years overnight. 9 My mom was in a parent support group she joined when she was pregnant, called “XYY Mothers.” As the name suggests, the people inside were all mothers raising kids with Super Male Syndrome. My mom found a lot of comfort in that group back then. Many people said XYY kids don’t always develop antisocial personalities. They just have a higher probability. How could anyone give up their own flesh and blood over a percentage? My mom believed it completely. When the babies were born, they all thought they were innocent and cute. They believed that with enough love, they could guide them right. They all believed their child would be the exception. But as the kids grew older, they became more and more anxious. Covered in bruises and bite marks, they would ask the “veteran moms” in the group what to do. The ironic part was, the veterans almost never spoke. They couldn’t even control their own kids; how could they advise anyone else? My mom finally ran out of options. She took an indefinite leave of absence from work and stayed by Caleb’s side 24/7 to watch him. Ever since she was pregnant with him, it was like she was under a spell. I don’t believe it was purely maternal love. She never had that kind of obsession with me. Or maybe it was because I was too well-behaved and obedient. I never made her worry, so everything good I did was just taken for granted. During my three crucial years of high school, my mom became Caleb’s full-time warden. She barely checked on me. I gritted my teeth and survived the hardest period of my life alone. In the end, I scored a near-perfect on my SATs and wrapped up high school beautifully. I excitedly called my mom. Before I could even share the good news, I heard her rambling on the phone: “Your brother has been so good lately. He hasn’t caused any trouble, hasn’t gone to the arcade, just stays in his room every day. I can finally relax a little.” I silently hung up the phone. By the time Caleb was thirteen, he was already over 5’7″. Because he did absolutely nothing but sit in his room eating junk food and playing games, he weighed nearly 200 pounds, and his personality became even more volatile and erratic. Since he had been quiet for a while and hadn’t caused any disasters, I suggested to my mom that we take him swimming to lose some weight. At the indoor pool, Caleb was visibly overstimulated. He looked around wildly, staring at the girls. When I came out in my swimsuit, Caleb stared at me with an inexplicable look. I avoided his gaze. He smiled, a dark, confusing grin. Looking into his eyes, my stomach suddenly churned with disgust. Watching his back, it felt like I was watching an amnesiac demon slowly awakening. Caleb dove into the water. Because it was the weekend, the pool was packed. Within minutes, my mom and I lost sight of him. About half an hour later, Caleb climbed out of the deep end. He walked up to my mom and pointed at the snack bar. My mom knew he was hungry, so she bought a corn dog for him and one for me. Just then, a scream erupted from the deep end: “Help! A kid is drowning!” People rushed over, pulling a little girl out of the water. Her face was chalk-white, and her lips had turned a terrifying shade of blue-purple. Her legs were twisted and cramped together. The lifeguard pushed the crowd back and immediately started CPR. The little girl’s mother was already crying hysterically on the sidelines. The bystanders silently began praying for the girl. My mom and I exchanged a look, then both of us instinctively turned our eyes to Caleb. My mom’s hands started shaking, her breathing growing ragged. I quickly pulled her asthma inhaler from my bag and handed it to her. Meanwhile, Caleb was chewing his corn dog, looking down at the dying girl on the tiles, and started laughing. The girl coughed up a lungful of water and slowly regained consciousness. Her mother hugged her tightly, crying, “Sweetie, who did this to you? Do you remember?” The little girl looked around the crowd. When her eyes landed on Caleb, she burst into terrified sobs. The stunned crowd began to whisper and point. The mother, tears streaming down her face, screamed, “What did you do?!” Caleb said coldly, “I didn’t do it!” My mom’s face flushed as she forced herself to stand in front of the angry woman. “Yes! My son was right next to me eating a corn dog! Your daughter must be mistaken!” Caleb remained silent, taking another bite of his food. A few other kids quickly ran over and pointed at Caleb: “It was him! We saw him! He dragged her into the deep end and threw her floatie away!” The girl’s mother finally lost control. She grabbed a cleaning pole nearby and swung it at Caleb. My mom instinctively stepped in front of him, taking the blow for him. Caleb sat behind her, completely unfazed. He muttered darkly, “I just wanted to play with her. Why wouldn’t she let me play?” His voice was quiet. Maybe I was the only one who heard it. But his eyes were locked dead onto the little girl on the ground. The sound of police sirens approached. My mom and I followed Caleb as he was taken to the precinct.

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I married incredibly well. My in-laws are one of the most prominent, old-money families in the city. My husband is completely obsessed with me and hangs onto my every word. My mother-in-law, though initially a bit skeptical of my background, is a dignified woman who never nitpicks or makes my life difficult. Then one day, my father-in-law’s manipulative, two-faced stepsister returned from abroad. My mother-in-law was tormented by this aging drama queen day and night. And so, I stepped in. 1 My dad is a classic nouveau riche. In his early years, he hit the jackpot in real estate and scored a few incredibly lucky business deals, amassing a fortune in the tens of millions. My mom was his first wife. After she caught him cheating, she dumped him, took a massive divorce settlement, and moved to Europe to live her best life. She gave up custody of me, but before she left, she gave me a brainwashing pep talk. “I’m not taking you with me, Chloe. If you stay with your dad, you’ll live in luxury. If you come with me, you’ll just suffer.” “Remember this, Chloe! If we were living a century ago, you’d be the legitimate eldest daughter of the estate. Guard your inheritance. Do not let those manipulative little mistresses and their illegitimate brats squander your father’s fortune!” I was 8 years old. She planted a seed of war in my heart and gracefully walked away. Soon enough, my dad married his second wife, then his third. After divorcing the third, he suddenly realized that marriage, aside from splitting his assets, had absolutely no meaning. He stopped getting married, but he always had a steady rotation of girlfriends. As for my half-siblings—the ones I can name and the ones I can’t—there’s a whole army of them. Growing up in this chaotic, shark-tank of a household… I honed my combat skills to the absolute highest tier. No matter what flavor of fake-innocent, manipulative, victim-playing “mean girl” crossed my path, if they dared mess with me, I’d skin them alive. Every stepmom, mistress, and half-sibling trembled in my presence. My dad was actually incredibly proud of this. He’d say, “That’s my girl! A tiger father doesn’t raise a weak kitten! When you get married, I won’t have to worry about a thing. Nobody in your in-laws’ family will ever dare to bully you.” But I ended up marrying way too well. My elite combat skills were rendered completely useless. 2 My husband, Carter, and I were college sweethearts. The Sterlings are an elite, old-money family of intellectuals. My father-in-law, Richard Sterling, is the chairman of a massive pharmaceutical conglomerate. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, is an esteemed professor at a top-tier medical school. Whether you looked at pedigree or pure assets, the Sterlings were entirely out of my family’s league. My mother-in-law wasn’t exactly thrilled with my background, but Carter was hopelessly obsessed with me. So, we got married anyway. Terrified that his mother would make my life miserable, Carter suggested we move into our own place. I shot that down immediately. Please. I’m a battlefield veteran. Am I supposed to be scared of a little family friction? Eleanor is your textbook intellectual—proper, dignified, and principled. Even though she wasn’t a fan of my roots, she never actively picked fights or made snide remarks. After living together for a few months, we actually coexisted quite peacefully. Just as I was starting to feel that the life of a wealthy housewife was a bit too boring and wanted to find some drama… my father-in-law’s stepsister, Seraphina, returned from abroad. My father-in-law went to the airport to pick her up himself. At the lavish welcome-home banquet thrown in her honor, I took one look at this “step-aunt” and instantly understood the assignment. Ah, so she’s the legendary, elusive first love. Her face was a perfect blend of innocence and seduction. A single glance from her was enough to captivate a room. She wore a flowing white dress that perfectly hugged her curves. Even though she was forty-four, she took such incredible care of herself that she easily looked like she was in her early thirties. Most of the guests at the banquet were my father-in-law’s childhood friends. These older men, who were all ruthless titans in their respective industries, surrounded Seraphina like she was the center of the universe. She smiled radiantly, acting every bit the enchanting goddess. Until my mother-in-law, Eleanor, appeared, holding Richard’s arm. Seraphina’s smile hitched, the corners of her mouth slowly dropping. She immediately adopted a humble posture, bowing her head slightly to offer Eleanor a toast: “Sister-in-law, I toast you. Thank you for taking such good care of my brother all these years while I was abroad.” Her stance was subservient, her features delicate, and she looked utterly pitiful. Eleanor looked a bit uncomfortable, but not wanting to make a scene, she reached out to accept the glass. But Richard stepped forward, snatched the glass from Seraphina’s hand, and frowned. “Seraphina, what are you doing? Your health is poor, you shouldn’t be drinking. We’re all family here, a simple hello is enough.” Seraphina looked deeply moved. She gazed up at him, and her eyes instantly pooled with tears. Shimmering and heartbreaking. Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, but she forced herself to maintain a polite, dignified smile. I stood off to the side, watching with immense entertainment. This familiar, manipulative flavor… this exact playbook. It was a carbon copy of the tactics used by my dad’s third, fourth, fifth, and sixth mistresses. This step-aunt was coming in hot. I wondered if my dignified mother-in-law could withstand this kind of assault. A high-society senior romance drama, complete with a hint of taboo pseudo-incest? Oh, I was definitely going to enjoy this show. 3 A few days later, Carter returned from a business trip, and I immediately started gossiping with him about his step-aunt. Unfortunately, Carter didn’t know much. And he had zero interest in gossip, though he had plenty of interest in me. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice dropping into a husky, seductive register: “Chloe, I was gone for three days. Didn’t you miss me at all?” And then I pinned him to the bed and we did that all night long. When the sky outside began to lighten, he finally let me go, kissing my cheek in complete satisfaction: “If you really want to know the drama, go ask Martha. She’s been with the Sterling family forever.” My eyes, which had looked like a dead fish a second ago, instantly lit up with excitement. Carter let out a low chuckle. The next day, I learned the incredibly messy, unspoken history of the Sterling family from Martha. Years ago, Seraphina wasn’t a Sterling. She was Seraphina Miller. Her father was Grandpa Sterling’s most trusted right-hand man. When Seraphina was ten, a business rival hired a hitman to take out Grandpa Sterling. Her father took the bullet, saving Grandpa’s life. On his deathbed, he entrusted his wife and daughter to the Sterlings. A life debt is heavier than a mountain. Driven by immense guilt, Grandpa Sterling took care of the Miller mother and daughter, giving them whatever they wanted. Seraphina’s mother was beautiful and gentle. As the days turned into years, her caretaking eventually moved into the bedroom. One was divorced, the other was a widow—it was a perfect match. They decided to get married. Grandpa was incredibly devoted. Afraid his new wife would be looked down upon, he threw a massively extravagant wedding to show her status. He even made a huge spectacle of changing his stepdaughter’s last name to Sterling, adding her to the family trust, and raising her as his own flesh and blood. Seraphina was fifteen that year. From a fatherless stray, she morphed overnight into the most pampered princess of the Sterling family. But there was one person who was furious about this. Grandpa’s only son, Richard. Richard was two years older than Seraphina. As a rebellious teenage heir, he was arrogant and untamed. He gave his father zero respect and constantly antagonized his new stepmother and stepsister, making their lives miserable. But Seraphina clearly understood her and her mother’s precarious position. Her mother had injured her body giving birth to her and couldn’t have any more children. Richard was the only son. He was the future head of the Sterling empire; he was the golden ticket they needed to cling to. Once Seraphina figured this out, she started intentionally catering to Richard. She made him lunches, and even when he threw them in the trash right in front of her, she never got angry. Whatever he liked to study, she studied too, just so they could have common ground. Slowly but surely, the massive walls Richard had built around his heart began to crumble. 4 At this point in the story, Martha couldn’t help but roll her eyes: “Both mother and daughter were manipulative foxes, spending every waking hour figuring out how to control men.” Martha was a loyal servant brought in by Richard’s biological mother. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t stand Seraphina and her mom. I was completely engrossed and asked eagerly: “And then? Did my father-in-law and Seraphina get together?” Martha scoffed in disgust: “Get together, my foot. Seraphina was a master manipulator. She knew exactly how men work: what they can’t have is always more agonizingly desirable than what they easily get.” So, Seraphina and Richard danced around this ambiguous “will-they-won’t-they” phase for years until Grandpa Sterling found out. Grandpa marrying his best friend’s widow was scandalous enough, but he absolutely refused to let his son be part of a scandal. Even though Seraphina had no blood relation to them, she was legally a Sterling daughter. A romantic relationship between siblings was a disgrace he would never tolerate. To nip it in the bud, he swiftly arranged an engagement between Richard and Eleanor. Richard initially wanted to refuse, but Seraphina played the victim, saying she only ever wanted to be his sister for the rest of their lives. Plus, Eleanor was the bride chosen by his parents, so he eventually accepted the arrangement. Eleanor had harbored a crush on Richard for years. Oblivious to the dark family drama, she thought she had finally won the love of her life and was blissfully happy. But the years that followed were pure agony. Richard’s special treatment of Seraphina was glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes. At first, Eleanor tried to lie to herself. But eventually, she couldn’t keep up the charade. Just as she was planning to call off the engagement, disaster struck the Sterling family. Their company’s capital chain broke, and they were on the verge of bankruptcy. To make matters worse, Grandpa Sterling fell severely ill and was rushed to the ICU. While the Sterling family was teetering on the edge of ruin, Seraphina suddenly got married. The groom was a wealthy heir who had been obsessed with her for years. They had a flash marriage, and she immediately moved to Canada with her new husband. The betrayal destroyed Richard, leaving him entirely broken. At that critical moment, Eleanor stepped up. She officially married Richard, throwing a high-profile wedding to announce it to the media. The Harrington and Sterling families quickly formed a massive business alliance. With the financial backing of Eleanor’s family, the Sterlings survived the crisis. After they got married, Richard seemed like a completely different person. The rebellious, arrogant young master transformed into a mature, quiet man. He spoiled Eleanor rotten. He never confined her to the house to be a trophy wife; he supported and encouraged her to pursue her career in medicine. They soon had a child together—Carter. Over all these years, Seraphina had only returned once, when her mother died, accompanied by her husband for the funeral. At the funeral, the brother and sister acted like complete strangers. This finally allowed the anxious Eleanor to breathe a sigh of relief. After that day, it seemed Richard had completely forgotten about Seraphina. So, here was the million-dollar question: They hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, and there was so much bad blood between them. Why, when Seraphina returned this time, did my usually stoic father-in-law personally pick her up and defend her so fiercely? 5 That mystery was solved very quickly. The entire basement of the Sterling estate had been converted into a massive library. I was down there studying for the Bar Exam. Not long after I sat down, I heard the voices of Seraphina and Richard coming from upstairs, and their footsteps indicated they were heading toward the library. Driven by an irresistible urge to eavesdrop, I quickly ducked behind a large bookshelf. To my surprise, there was already someone else hiding there. Eleanor, holding two books, looked like she had just been browsing for something to read. We stared at each other in awkward silence. At that exact moment, Seraphina and Richard walked in. Peeking through the gap between the books, I watched them. The two stood facing each other. The man was tall and handsome, the woman beautiful and petite. They looked like a picture-perfect couple. Richard’s expression was calm, betraying no emotion. Seraphina clutched her chest, looking as fragile as a flower trembling in the wind, and her voice broke into a theatrical, trembling sob: “I know… if it weren’t for my illness, you would never have agreed to see me. You’ve hated me all these years, haven’t you, Richard?” Richard said nothing. Tears instantly spilled from her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, her frail shoulders shaking. “But everything I did back then… I did it for you.” Seraphina claimed that the reason she married so suddenly back then was because her husband promised to inject capital into the Sterling company if she did. She had decided to sacrifice her own happiness and marriage to save the collapsing Sterling empire. But she was deceived by that man. After they got married, he refused to honor his promise and offered no help to the Sterling family. She was furious and wanted a divorce, but right at that moment, the news of Richard’s marriage broke. Her heart died. Divorce lost its meaning for her, and she couldn’t return to the Sterling family. She could only live in a numb daze with that man. For the first few years, the man was somewhat patient with her. But eventually, he showed his true colors. Not only did he constantly cheat, but he was physically abusive, frequently beating her black and blue. Seraphina cried beautifully, a perfect portrait of a tragic heroine. “When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, I stood on the edge of the balcony and threatened to jump before he finally agreed to a divorce. My only thought then was that, before I die, I had to see you one last time… even if I had to crawl all the way back.” I scoffed internally. Give this woman an Oscar. Richard suppressed his anger and asked: “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Her tear-washed eyes looked exceptionally bright. She frowned slightly, looking at him with a gaze full of gentle sorrow: “How could I tell you? You were already married. You had a wife, a child, your own family. You were living such a good life. How could I bear to ruin your happiness?” “I’m just an irrelevant person. How could I compare to your wife and child?” Richard averted his gaze, looking out the window. “You will always be a daughter of the Sterling family. You are my sister…” Seraphina’s tears fell like rain, and she interrupted him, sounding utterly broken: “But I don’t want to be your sister anymore!” “My biggest regret in this life was telling you I wanted to be siblings forever, and pushing you to get engaged to Eleanor… Richard, you were supposed to be mine. It was my own foolishness that pushed you into the arms of another woman.” Richard was silent for a long time. “Seraphina, it’s in the past. “Rest up for the next few days. The specialist I hired will be here soon.” With that, he turned and started walking toward the door. Seraphina rushed forward and hugged his waist from behind, pressing her face against his back, her voice full of grief: “But I can’t move on. “Richard, can we really never go back to the way things were?” Richard paused, gently pried her fingers open, and walked away without looking back. Having watched this entire soap opera, I rubbed the goosebumps off my arms and glanced at Eleanor beside me. My elegant, poised mother-in-law was staring blankly ahead, her eyes hollow. Sigh. Love is a cruel game. The person who loves deeper always ends up suffering more. I didn’t plan on being nosy and was about to leave. But I had already made it to the door when I couldn’t help but turn back and ask Eleanor: “Mom, you can actually tolerate this? “If it were me, I wouldn’t stand for a single second of this bullshit!” Eleanor looked down at the floor, her voice barely a whisper: “She’s his sister. Even if I can’t tolerate it, what can I do?” I cracked my knuckles. “She’s just an aging, manipulative homewrecker. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Eleanor froze, looking at me in shock. The time for slaughter had arrived. I was going to teach Seraphina the true meaning of cruelty! 6 During the time Seraphina lived at the Sterling estate, I felt like I was back at my dad’s house. That familiar atmosphere, thick with the scent of fake innocence and gunpowder. Richard was incredibly protective of Seraphina. Eleanor pretended everything was fine, but internally she was tortured, visibly wasting away day by day. At the dinner table, Seraphina put down her fork after taking just two bites. Eleanor asked with genuine concern: “Please eat a bit more, it’s not good for your health to eat so little. “Is the food not to your liking? Tell me what you want, and I’ll have Martha prepare it.” Seraphina immediately acted terrified, picking her fork back up in a panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad at me! I’ll eat, I’ll eat right now.” She started frantically shoving food into her mouth, looking like a frightened victim, acting incredibly fragile and submissive. Eleanor was startled and stood up to pour her a glass of water. “Slow down, don’t choke…” Suddenly, Seraphina jerked her head up, bumping into Eleanor’s hand. With a sharp crash, the glass shattered on the floor. Seraphina dropped to her knees, clutching Eleanor’s leg, crying hysterically. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Sister-in-law, I didn’t mean it, please don’t blame me, don’t yell at me, please don’t kick me out! I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up right now!” Eleanor was shaking with anger, feeling completely blindsided. When did she ever say she was kicking her out? What would Richard think if he heard this? Sure enough, Richard frowned, looking down at Seraphina on the floor, opening his mouth to speak. I beat him to the punch. I struck instantly. I lunged forward, grabbed Seraphina firmly by the shoulders, and spoke with fiery, righteous indignation. “Our ancestors fought and bled for our freedom and independence so that we could stand tall and proud! We live in a modern, democratic society, why are you dropping to your knees like a peasant?! “To put it broadly, we are strong, independent Americans! We bow to no one but God! To put it specifically, the men of the Sterling family are like soaring eagles, and the women are like fierce lionesses! “So stand up! Seraphina! You stand up right now!” No older, successful CEO can resist a passionate, patriotic, motivational speech. None of them! Sure enough, Richard shot me a look of deep approval. Seraphina was completely bewildered, staring at me in utter shock. She had lost her footing entirely, having no idea what playbook I was using. Carter let out a soft chuckle and chimed in at the perfect moment: “Auntie, please don’t mind her. Chloe has been studying day and night for her Bar Exam, she’s a bit overly enthusiastic right now.” Hearing this, Richard nodded at me approvingly again. The Sterlings take immense pride in their upstanding, prestigious legacy. Patriotism and dignity are practically baked into their DNA. I pivoted smoothly: “Oh, I almost forgot. Auntie, you lived in Canada for over a decade. Have you been away for so long that you forgot your roots and the proud blood running in your veins?” Seraphina’s face turned pale. Teary-eyed, she argued, “No, I haven’t. How could I ever forget?” I shouted authoritatively: “Then hold back those tears! We Sterlings sweat and bleed, but we don’t weep! We don’t break!” The blinding light of justice destroys all manipulative demons. Seraphina didn’t dare make another peep. She immediately sucked her tears back and dejectedly sat back in her chair. Richard looked serious and turned to Seraphina. “You just got back, you might not be used to how things are here now. If you need anything, talk to Chloe. She’s a good kid.” Seraphina was practically fuming, but she had to force a smile and nod in agreement.

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