I always thought I was an ordinary high school student—until a third eye opened at the back of my head. This eye has no blind spots. It sees through people, and it caught my scumbag father cheat with my vicious tutor in the act. They didn’t just want to kill my dying mother—they wanted to stage an “accident” and sacrifice me, all to cash in a expensive insurance payout and buy a house for their bastard son. Cute. They really thought I was a pushover? So I flipped the script and started the hunt. But when I finally stood over their corpses, thinking I could reunite with my mom at last, I uncovered a truth that froze my blood. I’m not a human at all. “Clara Croft, are you hiding? Daddy’s coming to find you!” Walter Croft’s gentle voice drifted in from outside the bedroom door. I clamped a hand over my mouth, crammed into the huge closet in the master bedroom, not daring to breathe. Today was my fourteenth birthday. Dad had taken half a day off specially, saying he wanted to play my favorite game—hide and seek. Just as I waited, giddy, for him to pull the closet door open, a tearing, stabbing pain shot through the back of my skull. Then a strange new field of vision unfolded in my mind. I could see straight through the closet’s thick wooden door—clear as day, I saw everything outside. At the back of my head, a third eye had opened. Walter wasn’t looking for me at all. He yanked his tie loose, desperate, and pulled my young, pretty private math tutor, Evelyn Hayes, into his arms. The two of them tumbled straight onto the big bed where my mom slept. “You devil, your daughter’s still home!” Evelyn scolded coyly, giving him a push—but her eyes were pure seduction. “What’s there to worry about? That girl’s clueless. She’s probably crammed in some corner right now, holding her breath.” Walter sneered, his hand already sliding under Evelyn’s skirt. My whole body went cold. My stomach churned. My mom was lying in the ICU, hovering between life and death, and my so-called wonderful father—the one who normally preached morality and never even raised his voice at me—was rolling around in her bed with another woman. I bit down hard on my lip, forcing back the urge to burst out and claw those two hypocritical faces apart. The third eye recorded it all like an HD camera, no blind spots. When they were finished, Evelyn lay against Walter’s chest, tracing little circles with her finger. “When is your wife actually going to die? Didn’t the doctor say it’d be any day now? This baby in my belly can’t wait. You really want your son born as a bastard?” A flash of cruelty crossed Walter’s eyes. “Soon. I’ve already paid off the people at the hospital. Cutting her meds is a matter of days. As for that little dead weight, Clara…” He paused, and his tone turned so cold it sent ice through me. “I took out a high-value accidental death policy on her, I’m the beneficiary. Next week I’ll take her for a drive on the mountain roads. The brakes just have to ‘fail’ a little. We lose the burden, and the payout’s enough to buy our son a big downtown apartment in cash.” Evelyn’s eyes lit up. She smacked a kiss on him. “Babe, you’re so smart! Then we’ll send the mother and daughter off together. At least they’ll have company on the way down.” I crouched in the dark closet, shaking like a leaf. Not from fear. From excitement. A bloodthirsty kind of excitement. You want to kill me? Fine. Let’s see who dies first.

I pretended nothing had happened. By the time I climbed out of the closet, the two of them were dressed together. Walter patted my head, all tenderness. “Clara, you’re so good at this. Daddy looked forever and couldn’t find you. Come on, let’s go see Mom at the hospital.” I nodded obediently, pulling a sweet smile across my lips. “Thanks, Dad.” At the hospital, the room reeked of disinfectant. My mom, Diane Croft, was wasted to nothing, her eyes sunk deep in their sockets—like a withered yellow rose. When she saw us, a faint light flickered in her clouded eyes. Walter instantly put on a face of tender devotion, taking my mom’s hand, his eyes going red. “Diane, how are you feeling today? Clara came to see you.” I looked at his sickening expression and sneered inside. I walked to the bedside and took my mom’s other hand, thin as a stick. Her hand was cold, without a trace of warmth. “Mom, I’m fine, don’t worry,” I said softly. She looked at me, her eyes full of longing and reluctance. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but in the end only shook her head weakly. I couldn’t tell her about Walter and Evelyn’s plot. Her body couldn’t take a blow like that right now. When we left the hospital, Walter took a call. His face shifted, and he made an excuse about an urgent matter at the company and rushed off. I knew it. He was going to see Evelyn. I walked home alone, my mind racing. I was only fourteen. Call the police? With no evidence, who’d believe a fourteen-year-old girl? Tell them I’d grown an eye on the back of my head? They’d just lock me up as a psych case. If the law couldn’t punish them, then I’d do it myself. I got in touch with a seller on the dark web and paid a steep price for a few packets of high-dose rat poison. Back home, I dumped all of it into the single malt whiskey Walter loved. That done, I sat on the couch and quietly waited for my prey to come home. But for days, Walter didn’t touch that bottle. Evelyn was even more wary. Every time she came over, she wouldn’t drink so much as a glass of water. They seemed to have sensed something. And what I sensed was far more dangerous than that.

On the weekend, Walter suddenly suggested taking me hiking in the countryside. “Clara, school’s been stressful lately. Daddy wants to take you somewhere to relax.” He smiled, all warmth. I sneered inside. Here it comes. Mountain roads. Accident insurance. Brake failure. Only he didn’t know—this time, I was the one who’d set the trap. “Okay, thanks, Dad.” I slung my backpack on and climbed into the car, obedient. The car pulled out of the city. The roads grew emptier, the scenery on both sides more and more desolate. Walter drove faster and faster. At a sharp turn, he suddenly wrenched the wheel hard, sending the car straight toward the edge of the cliff. “Oh no! The brakes are out!” he shouted, faking panic. Just as the car was about to break through the guardrail, he shoved the driver’s door open and jumped out. My door, on the other side, had been locked from the start. Bang! The car slammed hard into a big tree at the cliff’s edge. Smoke billowed from the hood, and then flames leapt up. The fire spread fast. The temperature inside the car shot up. I beat at the window, putting on a show of terror, screaming my lungs out: “Dad! Help me! Dad!” Walter stood a few yards from the car, watching me coldly. There wasn’t a trace of pity in his eyes—only the giddy thrill of getting what he wanted. “Clara, don’t blame Daddy. Blame yourself for standing in your brother’s way. Get a better life next time around.” The fire swallowed the cabin completely. The smoke choked me until I couldn’t open my eyes. The heat seared my skin. Just as I thought I really was about to burn to death, a miracle happened. A faint blue glow rose over the surface of my body, sealing the flames and smoke out. I didn’t feel any pain. Even my breathing came easier. What was going on? Was I not made of flesh and blood after all? Before I could think it through, the car suddenly went up in a violent explosion. Everything went black, and I lost consciousness.

When I woke again, I was in a hospital bed. The harsh fluorescent light made my head spin. “A miracle! It’s nothing short of a miracle! A fire that size, and this child only has a few surface burns!” The doctor’s astonished voice rang in my ears. I slowly opened my eyes and saw Walter standing by the bed, his face white as paper. When he saw me wake, he looked like he’d seen a ghost and jerked back a step. A police officer came over with the routine questions. “Sweetheart, do you remember how the crash happened?” I looked at Walter, the corner of my mouth curling into a sneer too faint to catch. He swallowed nervously, his eyes full of pleading. “Officer, I… I can’t remember clearly. I only remember the car suddenly went out of control, and then it caught fire. My dad got hurt trying to save me.” I put on a weak, frail act, tears rolling down my cheeks. The officer comforted me a little, then turned to Walter. “Mr. Croft, you’re lucky your daughter survived. But we’ll be investigating the cause further, so please stay available to cooperate.” After the officer left, only Walter and I remained in the room. The air was dead silent. “What… what exactly do you want?” Walter’s voice trembled. The way he looked at me was the way you’d look at a monster. I put the tears away and fixed him with an icy stare. “Walter, did you really think your plan was airtight? When you jumped out of the car, I saw every bit of it.” His legs went weak; he nearly dropped to the floor. “Clara, Daddy was wrong! Daddy lost my mind for a moment! Won’t you forgive me?” He threw himself at the bedside, begging, a mess of snot and tears. “Forgive you? Sure.” I sneered. “I want you to change the beneficiary on that accident policy to my name. Right now. And I want a supplementary card with no limit. Otherwise, I tell the police exactly how you tried to murder your own daughter.” Walter nodded over and over like a man granted a pardon. “Yes! Yes! Daddy will do whatever you say!” The moment I had the money and the insurance, the first thing I did was go to a flower shop and buy a big bunch of the brightest yellow roses. Then I went to my mom’s hospital room. I pushed the door open and froze. The room was thick with the scent of roses. In the vase by my mom’s bed, there was already a fresh bunch of yellow roses. “Mom, did someone come to see you?” I asked, startled. When she saw me, panic flashed in her eyes. She struggled upright and grabbed my hand, her voice urgent. “Clara, listen to me. You’re in danger right now. Go! Get away from here!” I was completely lost. “Mom, what are you talking about? I’ve already got Walter under control. He wouldn’t dare hurt me.” She shook her head, tears spilling over. With trembling hands, she fished a silver fidget spinner out from under her pillow and pressed it into my palm. “Take this! Spin it counterclockwise three times and you can go back to the past. Spin it clockwise three times and you can go to the future. Remember—you only get three chances. Run! Run as far as you can!” I stared at the finely made spinner in my hand and was sure the illness had muddled her mind. “Mom, don’t scare me…” “Clara, happy birthday, my baby.” She suddenly cupped my face and pressed a cold kiss to my forehead. The next second, the heart monitor let out a piercing, drawn-out wail. A flat line. My mom was dead.

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I died ninety-nine times on a luxury cruise ship. Every single time, the ship struck the rocks and sank at exactly midnight. And every single time, I failed to find the traitor responsible for the disaster. Ninety-nine loops. Trapped in a cycle with no way out, my body worn to nothing and my mind on the edge of breaking. When the hundredth loop began, I gave up. I stopped fighting. All I wanted was to spend my last few hours holding my brand-new wife in my arms. But the moment I pulled her close, my hands found something hidden beneath her elegant evening gown — something ice-cold, hard, and already inflated. A miniature life vest. Suffocation. My lungs felt like they were being stabbed by hundreds of red-hot needles all at once. The freezing seawater was alive — coiling through my nose and mouth, forcing its way down my throat like serpents. I thrashed wildly, arms and legs flailing in the pitch-black deep, grasping at nothing but empty water. My consciousness began to slip. The world around me dissolved into a vast, endless blue. Then — silence. Dead silence. … “Haah—!” I jolted upright in bed, gasping, my entire body soaked through with cold sweat. The soft velvet blanket slid off my shoulders. No salt, no brine — just the faint, calming scent of premium agarwood incense drifting through the air. No crashing waves — just the low, steady hum of the cruise ship’s engines. I wasn’t dead. I was back. I turned my head and stared at the priceless Patek Philippe custom clock sitting on the nightstand. The second hand ticked steadily. 8:00 PM. This was the hundredth time I had woken up at this exact hour, in this exact bed. “Eleanor, did you have a nightmare?” The bathroom door swung open softly. Victoria stepped out in a cloud of warm steam. She wore a silky wine-red robe, her damp hair falling loosely over her bare shoulders, her breathtaking face full of concern. Just the sight of her made my racing heart begin to slow. For the past ninety-nine loops, I’d run around this ship like a madman. I’d tried warning the captain. I’d tried forcing the ship off course. I’d even tried blowing up the engine room to stop it entirely. None of it worked. No matter what I did, the moment midnight hit, that deafening crack would tear through the hull. Water would rush in. The ship would capsize. And everyone would go down screaming. I was exhausted. Too tired to even lift a finger. If fate couldn’t be changed, then I wasn’t going to spend my last four hours fighting it. I just wanted to be with the woman I loved most — and go quietly. “It’s nothing. Just a bad dream.” I managed a tired smile, threw back the covers, and walked straight toward her. I opened my arms and pulled her close. Her body was soft, carrying the clean scent of her body wash — a smell I had never stopped loving. I wanted to bury my face in the curve of her neck and breathe in this last moment of warmth. But the second I tightened my arms around her, my hand caught on something at her back. Beneath the soft silk of her robe — something hard. Something that had no business being there. It was… After ninety-nine times fighting to survive in the water, I recognized the feel of it instantly. A compact, body-hugging, military-grade inflatable life vest！ And it was already partially inflated — primed and ready to deploy. It was 8:00 PM. Four full hours before the ship would hit the rocks. Outside, the sea was perfectly calm. The sky was full of stars. So why was my brand-new wife wearing a hidden life vest under her robe?

“Ow, Eleanor — you’re holding me too tight.” Victoria pulled back with a soft pout, trying to wriggle free from my arms. I forced down the icy dread spreading through my chest and slowly let go. “Sorry. The nightmare felt too real. I’m still not quite myself.” I stepped back half a pace and kept my voice easy, my eyes catching the brief flicker of unease in hers. Ninety-nine brushes with death had sharpened my instincts. She was nervous. “Let me pour you something to take the edge off.” She turned and walked quickly toward the bar in the corner of the room. Watching her go, my mind shifted into overdrive. The ship striking the reef. A situation with no way out. A wife who had already fastened her life jacket. None of this was a coincidence. Could it be — the one who caused this ship to go down wasn’t some stranger hiding in the shadows. It was the woman who shared my bed. How could that be possible?！ We’d been together three years. She stood by me through the darkest days of Vance Group. She was gentle, warm, and endlessly understanding — the only light in my life. But what I felt on her back when I held her was real. If you want to keep up the act, I’ll play along. I wanted to see what she was truly hiding underneath that soft, loving face. “Vicky, I want that bottle of ’82 Lafite. It’s at the bottom of my suitcase.” I sank onto the sofa, my voice lazy and unbothered. “Of course. I’ll go grab it.” She set down her glass and disappeared into the walk-in closet. The moment she crouched down and started digging through the suitcase, I shot to my feet and crossed the room to her vanity table. My eyes went straight to her Hermès makeup bag — the one that never left her side. I unzipped it. Lipstick, foundation, perfume… everything looked perfectly normal. But I didn’t stop. I pressed my fingers firmly along the bottom edge of the bag. Click. A faint, sharp snap. The bottom of the bag swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, lying completely still, was a black satellite phone. No brand markings. No logo. I drew a slow breath, picked it up, and pressed the power button. The screen lit up. No lock screen — it went straight to the home screen. One message. Received ten minutes ago. Sender: [Hound] “Bottom explosive device is armed. Timer set: 23:59. Target asset transfer protocol is active. Put your life jacket on and wait for extraction.” It hit me like a bomb going off inside my skull. Explosive device！ Asset transfer！ Target！ There was no reef. This ship was deliberately blown up. And I — I was the “target.” All ninety-nine times I nearly drowned. All ninety-nine times I clawed at the edge of madness and despair. Every single one of them had been a carefully planned murder. A savage rage at being betrayed by the person I loved most slammed into a bone-deep grief, and together they swallowed me whole. I gripped the satellite phone so hard my knuckles turned white. “Eleanor, I’ve got the wine—” Victoria stepped out of the closet, red wine in hand. Her words died in her throat. She saw what I was holding. The warmth drained from her face in an instant. Her pupils shrank to pinpoints. The air in the room dropped to absolute zero.

“What is this?” I held up the satellite phone, my voice so calm it even scared me. Victoria stood frozen, her body trembling slightly. But within two seconds, the panic on her face disappeared — replaced by a chilling composure I had never seen from her before. “Since you’ve already seen it, I won’t bother pretending.” She casually tossed the priceless bottle of wine onto the carpet. The red liquid spread across the fibers like blood. “Eleanor Vance, you’re a sharp businessman. But you’re too sentimental — and that is your fatal flaw.” She walked to the sofa and sat down, elegantly lighting a slim cigarette. “Who put you up to this?” I gritted my teeth and stepped toward her. “You don’t need to know that. All you need to know is that by the end of tonight, everything in Vance Group will change hands.” She blew a slow smoke ring, her eyes full of mockery. “You think you can kill me on this ship?” I laughed coldly. Over the course of ninety-nine loops, I had honed my skills to the level of a trained assassin. Taking down one woman? Three seconds, tops. “Kill you? No, no, no — why would I want to get my own hands dirty?” Victoria laughed so hard she nearly doubled over. “You’re going to ‘accidentally’ die in a shipwreck, right in front of the entire ship — the tragic CEO who never saw it coming.” Just then, the doorbell rang. Ding-dong. “Eleanor, it’s the Captain. Your dinner reservation is ready.” The voice from outside the door was deep and steady — the voice of this cruise ship’s captain. In previous loops, I had begged him for help countless times. He always brushed me off with the same dismissive, by-the-book indifference. I walked over and yanked the door open. The Captain stood outside in a crisp white uniform, wearing his professional smile. Behind him, two waiters pushed a service cart. “Eleanor, this is the French baked lobster you specially requested—” “Shut up.” I cut him off cold, my eyes fixed on his face like a blade. “Captain, I remember very clearly — at the welcome dinner on the first night of this voyage, you told me personally that you have a severe shellfish allergy. You said even the smell gives you hives.” I pointed at the enormous red lobster on the cart and said, word by word: “So tell me — why are you the one personally delivering this to my cabin?” The smile on the Captain’s face froze. Fine beads of cold sweat instantly broke out across his forehead. “I… I…” He stumbled over his words, his eyes darting uncontrollably toward Victoria on the sofa. “Because he’s not the real Captain!” I slammed my foot into the service cart and sent it crashing to the floor. Scalding broth splattered all over both waiters. “You’re all in on this together!” It finally made sense. Why no matter how many warnings I gave, the crew never reacted. Why the ship had drifted so far off course without a single person finding it strange. Because everyone on this ship — from the captain down to the waiters — was a player in this murder plot. Clap. Clap. Clap. Victoria sat on the sofa and applauded slowly. “Brilliant. Truly brilliant, Eleanor. You’re even sharper than I gave you credit for.” She stood up and stubbed her cigarette out in the ashtray. “But even now that you’ve figured it all out — what does it change? Do you really think you can escape?” Her words had barely left her lips when the two waiters — still grimacing from the scalding broth — suddenly reached inside their jackets and pulled out silenced pistols. The barrels pointed straight at my head.

“Kneel.” The fake captain tore off his mask of civility, his face twisting with rage as he screamed at me. I stared down the two dark gun barrels and didn’t move. My mind was running at full speed — calculating distances, angles. “I said, kneel!” He stepped forward and raised his radio, swinging it down toward my head. Now！ I ducked sharply, dodging the blow, and launched myself forward. I grabbed the wrist holding the radio and twisted hard. Crack. The sound of bone snapping was sharp and clean. “AHHH—!” The fake captain let out a blood-curdling shriek. I swung his massive body in front of me, using him as a human shield. Phff. Phff. Two muffled shots. Both bullets hit the fake captain square in the chest. Blood bloomed instantly across his white uniform. In the split second the two hitmen hesitated, I shoved his body aside, rolled into a tactical dive, and snatched a dinner knife off the floor. It left my hand like a flash of lightning. The blade buried itself in the left hitman’s throat. He clutched at his neck as blood poured between his fingers, then dropped straight down. The hitman on the right went pale. He barely started to swing his gun around before I was already on him — a vicious knee strike connecting hard with his jaw. Thud. He flew off his feet and slammed into the wall, out cold. Five seconds. Start to finish. This was muscle memory forged across ninety-nine deaths — beaten into me through countless beatings and killings. I was breathing hard. I picked up the handgun from the floor, turned around, and pointed it straight at Victoria. She stood completely still, staring at the blood and bodies scattered across the floor. Not a trace of fear on her face. Instead, she smiled — a strange, unsettling smile, like someone who already knew exactly how this would end. “Nice moves, Eleanor.” She even stepped forward, pressing her forehead directly against the barrel. “Go ahead. Shoot me. Kill me.” Her eyes were full of challenge. “You think I won’t?” I kept my finger on the trigger. Rage burned in my chest. “Oh, you would.” Victoria’s lips curved into a mocking smile. “But if you kill me, you won’t make it out either.” A mocking smirk tugged at the corner of Victoria’s mouth. “Eleanor — doesn’t it seem strange to you? Why do you always wake up again at eight o’clock every time you die?” My pupils snapped tight. She… how did she know about the loop? I had never told a single person. “Did you actually think this was God giving you a second chance?” Victoria laughed — loud, raw, and cruel. “Don’t be naive. There is no such thing as a time loop.” “Everything you’ve been experiencing — this ship, this ocean, me — all of it is fake！” She threw her arms wide, like she was unveiling a masterpiece. “Welcome to the Abyss System, Eleanor.” “It’s a virtual reality interrogation chamber hardwired directly into your brain.” “You’re not at sea at all. Right now, you’re lying in a stasis pod in Vance Group’s underground lab, with electrodes planted all over your skull.” The words hit me like a wrecking ball. Virtual reality？ Neural interrogation？ The room spun around me. “That’s… that’s not possible…” My voice came out barely above a whisper. The gun trembled in my hands. “Why not?” Victoria pressed closer. “You’re holding the highest-level master access codes for Vance Group. We’re talking about wealth large enough to buy a small country.” “But your willpower is too strong. Standard truth serums and physical interrogation don’t work on you.” “So they built this system.” “To put you through the most hopeless deaths imaginable, over and over, in a virtual world. Grinding down your mental defenses one loop at a time.” “Until you break completely — and hand over the codes.” She pointed to the clock on the wall. “The ship sinking at midnight is the system’s forced restart protocol. Every restart causes irreversible damage to your brain.” “Ninety-nine times, Eleanor. Your neural pathways are stretched to the breaking point — like a rubber band about to snap.” “This is the last loop. If you don’t hand over the codes, your brain will flatline at midnight tonight. And in the real world, you will be a vegetable. Forever.”

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For three years, I played the perfect invisible wife at Sebastian Cross’s side. Everyone knew Sebastian was devoted to his childhood sweetheart, Evelyn — and that he treated his actual wife like she was nothing. What no one knew was that I could hear Sebastian’s thoughts. He’d mock me out loud, calling me “worthless.” But in his head, he was screaming, Look at me, baby. I told myself that if I just held on long enough, I could melt the ice around his heart. Then came the charity auction. He took the piece I treasured most — my late mother’s work — bought it without a second thought, and handed it to Evelyn. In the argument that followed, I lost my voice. Permanently. With nothing left inside me, I slid the divorce papers across the table and walked away. And Sebastian — the untouchable, all-powerful Sebastian Cross — stood alone in that empty mansion and completely fell apart. The lights blazed inside Veridian City’s most prestigious charity gala. My eyes were locked on the necklace displayed on the stage — a sapphire piece called Blue Reverie. It was my design. Three sleepless nights of work, poured into every detail for this event. “Five million dollars.” A low, cold voice cut through the silence of the hall. The room erupted. Every head turned toward the man sitting beside me. Sebastian Cross — the youngest powerhouse in Veridian City’s business world. And my husband. I looked at him, caught off guard. Sebastian’s profile was half-swallowed by shadow, his jaw sharp, his expression unreadable. Murmurs rippled through the crowd around us. “Mr. Cross really does look out for Mrs. Cross — five million for his wife’s work? That’s his way of showing support.” “Who said Mr. Cross and Mrs. Cross had a bad marriage? He just threw five million dollars at her.” Something stirred in my chest. A feeling I hadn’t felt in a long time. Three years of marriage, and he’d rarely given me any dignity in public. Was tonight different? Was this for me? The moment the host’s gavel came down and announced Sebastian as the winning bidder, he stood up. He took the gleaming necklace from the presenter — and didn’t walk toward me. He walked straight to the front row, to a woman in a white gown, delicate and fragile as a wilting flower. Evelyn. Sebastian’s childhood sweetheart. The daughter of his late mentor. “Evie.” Sebastian’s voice was quiet, but the people nearby could hear every word. “The color of this necklace suits your complexion perfectly.” Evelyn covered her mouth, her eyes going glassy. “Seb, this is too much — and this is Ellie’s work. She put so much into it…” Sebastian let out a short, contemptuous laugh. His gaze swept over me, cold and dismissive. “Her work?” His lip curled. “It’s cheap. Tacky. The kind of thing that doesn’t belong in a room like this. Consider it a little toy.” “Put it on. I won’t say it twice.” The whispers around us flipped in an instant — each one landing like a slap across my face. “So he bought it for Evelyn…” “God, poor Mrs. Cross. Her own husband buys her work just to give it to another woman — and then tears it apart in front of everyone.” I pressed my hands into fists at my sides, my nails cutting into my palms. And then Sebastian’s inner voice detonated in my ear. 【That necklace my wife designed — no one else was getting their hands on it. I wasn’t about to let some other man walk away with it tonight.】 【Evie’s just holding onto it for me. She ran interference with the drinks all evening — this is just me being polite. The second we get home, I’m taking it back and putting it on my wife myself.】 【Baby, look at me! I just spent five million dollars on your design. Aren’t you even a little touched?】 I stared at his cold, hard face. I listened to him gloating in his own head, practically bouncing with pride. Three years. For three years, I had forgiven every cruel thing that came out of his mouth — because I could hear what was underneath it. I told myself he was just guarded. That he didn’t know how to show what he felt. That a difficult childhood had twisted the way he expressed himself. I told myself I could fix him. But now, watching Blue Reverie — my necklace — rest against Evelyn’s collarbone, I felt something in me go very, very quiet. I was exhausted. This push and pull, this gap between what he said and what he thought — I was done with it. I stood up. I walked toward him, meeting his startled gaze head-on. “Since Sebastian thinks my work is so cheap,” I said, my voice steady, “then stop torturing yourself. Stop being tied to someone as cheap as me.” “I want a divorce.”

Sebastian’s pupils contracted sharply. Evelyn let out a soft gasp and leaned into Sebastian’s side, her voice trembling. “Ellie, please don’t be upset — this is my fault. I never should have accepted it. Don’t say things like that. You’re not serious…” Sebastian grabbed Evelyn to steady her, his expression darkening instantly. “Elodie, what the hell is wrong with you?” “Making a scene over something this small — where are your manners? Without me, who would ever want a useless woman like you?” His words cut like poison-tipped blades. But his inner voice was trembling wildly. [Why does she want a divorce? Is she jealous?] [I already told her this is just a toy! How could she just walk away from me in front of all these people!] [Baby, please — don’t say things you don’t mean. It’s killing me.] I looked at him calmly, without softening the way I used to whenever I heard his thoughts. “Sebastian, I know exactly what I’m doing.” “I’ll have my lawyer send the papers to your office tomorrow.” With that, I turned and walked out of the venue. I didn’t look back at Sebastian’s ashen face or the curious stares from the crowd. I returned to the empty villa and dragged out my suitcase, starting to pack. I didn’t have much. Three years of marriage, and I’d lived like a guest who was only passing through. Half the closet was filled with Sebastian’s tailored suits. The other half held a few simple outfits of mine. I didn’t take a single thing that was his — just a few of my own old clothes. Finally, I walked to the study, opened the safe, and took out a worn, yellowed sketchbook. It was the only thing my mother had left me — filled with unfinished jewelry designs she’d drawn before she passed. I had just placed the sketchbook into the suitcase when the front door was kicked open with a violent bang. Sebastian stormed in, cold fury radiating off him, with Evelyn trailing close behind. His eyes landed on the suitcase sitting on the floor. A flash of panic crossed his face — but it was quickly buried under rage. “Elodie, look at you. You actually packed your bags?” His inner voice was deafening. [She’s really leaving? She already packed everything?] [No. I won’t allow it. What am I supposed to do if she’s gone?] [Baby, don’t go. I got the necklace back — just look at it, please.] He glared at me, but what came out of his mouth was: “You think I’d care if you left? You were nothing but a prop I used to keep my father off my back.” I zipped up the suitcase, my voice completely flat. “If I’m just a prop, then you should be glad the prop is resigning.” I pulled my luggage and walked out. Sebastian snatched my wrist, gripping it so hard I thought he might snap the bone. “I didn’t say you could leave. Try walking out that door and see what happens.” Evelyn stepped in, her voice soft and coaxing. “Ellie, don’t be like this. Come on, Seb — didn’t you mention before that you’d let me borrow that sketchbook your mother-in-law left behind? I’m working on a new collection and I’m completely stuck for inspiration…” I spun around and stared at Sebastian, unable to believe what I was hearing. Sebastian hesitated, clearly caught off guard that Evelyn had brought it up now. But with me glaring at him like I wanted to tear him apart, he was too proud to back down. He forced a cold smirk. “So what? Everything you have was provided by the Cross family. If Evie wants to look at it, you hand it over.” My whole body was shaking. I had never been this furious in my life. “Sebastian, you bastard!” I wrenched my wrist free and clutched the suitcase tight. “That belonged to my mother. What gives you the right to hand it to her?” Sebastian’s expression twisted. [I was just saying it — I didn’t actually mean it!] [Don’t look at me like that, baby. It scares me.] [But you’re cursing me out over a stupid notebook. You don’t love me anymore, do you?] Shame curdled into rage. He lunged for the suitcase. “There’s nothing I want that I can’t take. Give it to me.” “No.” We struggled violently at the top of the staircase. Evelyn rushed over to help. “Ellie, stop it — I just wanted to borrow it for a few days…” “Get away from me!” I shoved her hard. Evelyn let out a cry and stumbled back two steps, landing on the floor. The palm of her hand scraped against the ground. “Evie!” Sebastian’s face went white. He spun toward me and shoved me — hard. “Elodie, you vicious bitch!” I had no time to react. My balance vanished, and I fell — straight down the staircase.

In the moment the floor disappeared beneath me, I saw Sebastian’s eyes go wide with terror. Thud — I tumbled down the stairs and hit the bottom hard. My neck slammed into the sharp metal edge of the art sculpture standing in the first-floor living room. A searing, tearing pain exploded from my throat and spread through my entire body. The agony nearly knocked me unconscious on the spot. I lay face-down on the floor, gasping desperately for air, but it felt like my lungs had sprung a leak. Warm liquid poured from my neck in a torrent, soaking into the wool carpet beneath me, turning it a deep, vivid red. “Ellie!” Sebastian came flying down the stairs like a madman, dropping to his knees beside me, frantically trying to press his hands over my wound. His hands were shaking. His whole body was shaking. His inner voice was nothing but desperate, anguished cries. [My wife! You’re bleeding so much!] [How did this happen? I didn’t mean to — I didn’t mean to push you!] [Please don’t scare me like this. I’m begging you, don’t scare me!] I opened my mouth, trying to say it hurts — trying to say help me. But no sound would come from my throat. Only broken, ragged breaths, and the nauseating stench of blood. “Seb… it hurts so much…” At the top of the stairs, Evelyn cradled her scraped hand, her eyes glistening with tears. Sebastian froze. He looked at me. Then he looked at Evelyn. His inner voice tore itself apart. [My wife is badly hurt — I need to get her to the hospital!] [But Evie’s hand… she’s a pianist. My teacher entrusted her to me on his deathbed. If her hand is ruined, how could I ever face him?] [My wife’s injury is just surface-level. Evie’s hand can’t wait.] Sebastian clenched his jaw and shot to his feet. He stood over me — over my body lying in a pool of blood — and looked down with eyes cold enough to cut glass. “Elodie, you brought this on yourself.” “If anything happens to Evie’s hand, I’ll make you pay for it.” He turned away. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scooped Evelyn into his arms and strode out of the house. The front door slammed shut behind him, sealing me off from the rest of the world. I stared after him, eyes wide with despair, watching him disappear. The blood kept flowing from my throat. I tried to drag myself toward my phone, lying just a few feet away. But the pain had drained every last drop of strength from my body. All I could do was lie there as my vision slowly, steadily blurred. So that was how little I meant to him. I wasn’t even worth as much as a scratch on Evelyn’s hand. Sebastian. You win. I’m done. In the final second before the darkness swallowed me whole, one thing flashed through my mind — something he had said to me once. “Elodie, I’m the one who gave you this life. You owe me a debt you’ll spend every lifetime repaying. You’ll never leave my side.” When I opened my eyes again, everything was blindingly white. The sharp smell of antiseptic filled my nose. I shifted slightly, and a stabbing pain tore through my throat. “You’re awake?” Sebastian’s hoarse voice came from beside the bed. I turned my head. His eyes were raw and red from sleepless nights, dark stubble shadowing his jaw. He looked completely wrecked. The moment he saw my eyes open, he lurched to his feet, reaching toward me — then stopping himself, like he was afraid to touch me. “You… how do you feel? Does it still hurt?” There was a tremor in his voice that he probably didn’t even notice himself. His inner voice came rushing in like a tide. [She’s finally awake. God, I was terrified — I thought I was going to lose her.] [The doctor said her vocal cords are damaged… This is all my fault. I deserve to rot for this.] [Yell at me. Hit me. Just please, please don’t look at me like that — like you’re already dead inside.] I looked at him in silence. There was nothing stirring in my chest. No anger. No hurt. Just a stillness, flat and cold as standing water. I opened my mouth and tried to speak. No matter how hard I pushed, the only thing that came out of my throat was a faint, hollow hiss of air. I went still. The color drained from Sebastian’s face in an instant. He grabbed my shoulders, his voice urgent. “Don’t try to talk. The doctor said your vocal cords are injured — you need to rest.” I watched his eyes slide away from mine, and a quiet dread settled in my chest. I reached for my phone on the nightstand. Sebastian moved to stop me, but I pulled away from his hand and grabbed it myself. I opened the notes app and typed. My throat. What’s wrong with it? I held the screen up in front of him. Sebastian stared at it. His throat worked as he swallowed hard. “It’s just… temporary. You’ll get your voice back in time. I’ve already found the best doctors — they’ll fix this. I promise.” He was lying. I could hear it in his thoughts. [I’m so sorry. The doctor said the damage to your vocal cords is severe. It might be… permanent.] [But I’m not giving up. I don’t care what it costs — I’ll find a way to fix this.] [Please don’t find out the truth. I don’t know if you could take it.] Permanent. I was mute now. Because of the push that sent me falling. Because he had chosen to take Evelyn to get her little scrape bandaged first. I closed my eyes. A single tear slipped down the side of my face. Sebastian panicked, frantically wiping my tears with his hands. “Don’t cry, Ellie, please don’t cry. It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have pushed you. I just—” He tried to explain, but no explanation could hold up against what he’d done. I picked up my phone again, typed one word, and held it out to him. Divorce.

Sebastian looked like he’d been struck by lightning. He froze completely. He snatched the phone out of my hand and hurled it at the floor. The screen shattered instantly. “I refuse!” His eyes were bloodshot, wild like an animal driven to rage. “Elodie, don’t you dare think about leaving me! You still owe me. What gives you the right to talk about divorce?!” “You hurt Evie, and you haven’t even apologized to her! You’re not going anywhere!” He lashed out with the cruelest words he could find, trying to hide the sheer panic underneath. [I can’t get divorced. I’d rather die than get divorced.] [If she leaves, what’s the point of any of this?] [I’d rather we tear each other apart. I’d rather she hate me. I’m keeping her by my side no matter what.] I watched him fall apart, cold and unmoved. Without my phone, I didn’t even have a way to argue back. But I knew. My mind was made up. Ten years of loving him in silence. Three years of marriage. It was over. I spent a month in the hospital. For that entire month, Sebastian never left my side. He canceled every social obligation and moved his desk into my hospital room. He clumsily taught himself how to make me chicken soup, how to peel apples for me. The cutting remarks stopped. When he spoke, there was even a careful, almost pleading softness to his voice. If I hadn’t known the truth, I might have actually been moved by how devoted he seemed. But I could hear his thoughts. Every day, the same loop played inside his head — guilt, fear, obsession. [She finished half a bowl of chicken soup today. Does that mean she’s forgiven me a little?] [Why won’t she look at me? Is she planning how to leave?] [I need to upgrade the security at the villa. I can’t let her run.] I watched his one-man show with cold, detached eyes. A month later, I was discharged. Sebastian drove me back to that villa — the one that felt like a cage. He took away my passport and my ID. He even unplugged the router. He watched me like I was a thief he couldn’t take his eyes off. Evelyn came by once. She had a small bandage on her hand. Her eyes swept over the thick gauze wrapped around my neck, and a flicker of satisfaction crossed her face. “Ellie, I’m so sorry. If it weren’t for me, none of this would have happened to you.” “Seb does care about you, you know. Don’t be angry with him — he just gets so worried about me sometimes.” Every word was a claim. Every sentence was a knife sliding between my ribs. I sat in my wheelchair and looked at her, my face completely blank. Sebastian walked in just then, carrying my medication. When he saw Evelyn, his brow furrowed hard. “Who let you in?” Evelyn bit her lip, her expression wounded. “Seb, I just came to check on Ellie…” “Get out.” Sebastian’s voice was ice. Evelyn stared at him in disbelief. “Seb, are you seriously snapping at me?” Sebastian ignored her. He walked straight to me, crouched down, and his tone shifted — suddenly, impossibly gentle. “Ellie. Time for your medicine.” Evelyn stomped her foot and ran out in tears. But Sebastian’s thoughts gave away exactly how irritated he was. [Why is Evie showing up now of all times? What if this sets Elodie off again?] [I’ve worked so hard to keep things calm. I’m not letting anyone ruin that.] I looked at the pills he held out to me, and a wave of disgust hit me so hard I couldn’t breathe. I swung my arm and knocked the medicine bowl out of his hands. The dark liquid splattered all over Sebastian’s shirt. He went still. I pointed at the door. A silent order to get out. Sebastian’s expression shifted. He forced the anger down. “Okay. I’ll go. Don’t get upset — I’ll have someone make a fresh batch.” He stood up and backed out of the room, looking rattled. I knew he was close to his breaking point. He was used to being in control of everything. Used to me falling in line. He wouldn’t be able to keep this up much longer. I needed a chance. A chance to get out.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “NovelMaster” app 🔍 search for “433929”, and watch the full series ✨! #NovelMaster

1 I went to a private school with my junior colleague Luke to configure their network. My bladder was bursting, so I used the first-floor restroom. On payday, instead of my twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission, I received a ten-thousand-dollar fine. Our newly appointed manager, Marcus, pointed his finger right at my nose, screaming. “Luke told me everything! You using the client’s restroom is just taking advantage of them. It completely ruins our reputation as a premium network service company!” “Using a client’s resources carries a fine of one thousand dollars a minute! You were in there for ten minutes, so that’s a ten-thousand-dollar penalty, and all your commissions are confiscated. Be grateful I’m letting you keep your job because of your seniority!” “We are in the service industry! If you can’t even hold your pee, why are you even working in the field?” These major clients were accounts I had built from the ground up over the past seven years. Every annual renewal was handled personally by me. Now, they were using them as leverage to rob me of my income. Seeing the cold glare in my eyes, Marcus slammed a document onto the desk. “Don’t like it? Then pack your bags and get out! But don’t forget, the service contracts for your accounts specifically name you as the designated technician. If you walk out, not only will we sue you for breach of contract alongside the clients, but we’ll also have you blacklisted from the entire industry!” Looking at his arrogant, sneering face, I let out a cold chuckle. I didn’t argue. But three days later, when those major service contracts were up for renewal, he was the one who panicked. “Don’t look at Marcus like that, Owen,” Luke said, poking his head out from behind Marcus. He put on a perfectly innocent face. “I only reported it because I care about the company. You were in that school restroom for ten whole minutes. The teachers outside were giving us some really weird looks. We’re there to fix their internet, not use their facilities.” I stared at the apprentice I had personally trained. Just last month, when he broke a highly expensive fiber tester in the server room, I was the one who paid out of my own pocket to cover for him. Now, to suck up to the newly appointed manager, he threw me under the bus without a second thought. Marcus crossed his arms, looking down his nose at me. “Hear that? Even the rookie has more professional awareness than you! Owen, you’ve been with this company for seven years, and this is what you’ve degenerated into? Confiscating your twenty-five-thousand-dollar commission and slapping you with a ten-thousand-dollar fine is a mercy. If it were up to me, I’d have fired you on the spot.” The office was dead silent. A dozen or so colleagues sat at their desks, ears perked, soaking in every word. I gripped the paper fine in my hand. “Marcus, the school’s facilities director explicitly told me we were welcome to use the first-floor restroom. How is that taking advantage of a client?” Marcus slammed his hand on the desk. “They were just being polite, and you took them literally? Do you have any concept of professional boundaries? You used their water, you used their paper. Is that not a resource drain? You were freeloading off our client!” The sheer absurdity of his logic made me laugh out loud. Luke quickly chimed in. “Owen, just apologize. Marcus is only trying to enforce proper discipline. We all know you’re getting older and your bladder isn’t what it used to be, but you can’t let your personal health issues ruin the company’s professional image.” A few colleagues who loved playing politics snickered behind their hands. “Seriously, using a client’s bathroom? That’s pretty trashy.” “Seniority doesn’t give you a free pass to behave like a slob.” I looked at their indifferent, mocking faces. Over the past seven years, I had pulled countless all-nighters to fix their mistakes and save their projects. Now, they were the first to throw stones. Marcus, seeing my silence, assumed I was intimidated. He raised his chin triumphantly. “Owen, since you recognize your mistake, you will write a formal apology and pin it to the company-wide chat. Also, starting today, your field transit reimbursements are canceled. That money will go toward compensating for the reputational damage you’ve caused.” Luke picked up the thermos from Marcus’s desk and handed it to him with a groveling smile. “Drink some warm water, boss. I’m sure Owen will reflect on his actions. He’s got a family to support, so he knows better than to bite the hand that feeds him.” I watched their little performance in silence. Arguing with fools was a waste of breath. I folded the fine and slipped it into my pocket. “Fine. Deduct the money. And I won’t file for travel reimbursements.” Marcus blinked, taken aback. He hadn’t expected the most headstrong engineer in the department to capitulate so easily. He let out a cold snort. “Smart move. Get that apology into the chat before the end of the day. A hundred-dollar penalty for every hour it’s late.” I didn’t bother replying. I turned and walked straight back to my desk. Behind me, Luke called out in a mocking, singsong voice, “Owen, if you need help writing that apology, there are plenty of templates online. Just don’t embarrass our department with bad grammar.” 2 My computer screen lit up, and the messaging icon in the bottom right corner began to blink. It was a message from Preston, the CEO of Aegis Networks, our primary competitor. “Owen, have you given any thought to my offer? If you join us, I’ll double your base salary and put you on our highest commission tier.” Looking at the message, a cold smile played on my lips. Aegis was a rapidly growing firm in the city, and they had been trying to recruit me for over a year. Out of loyalty to my current employer, I had always politely declined. “Mr. Preston, I’ll report to your office in three days.” A handshake emoji popped up instantly. “Fantastic! I’ll have HR draft your contract right away.” Locking my phone, I felt an incredible weight lift off my chest. For seven years, I had worked myself to the bone. To hit our department targets, I had lived in freezing server rooms even when I was running a high fever. But now, since Marcus wanted to play by these ridiculous rules, I would show him how well I could follow them. At three in the afternoon, Luke ran over to my desk, drenched in sweat and looking panicked. “Owen, the network at the Southside Plaza is completely down. I’ve been troubleshooting for hours and can’t figure it out. The client is losing his mind. You need to come with me right now.” I leaned back in my chair, not even bothering to look at him. “No.” Luke froze. “Owen, stop throwing a tantrum. This is a massive account, and the owner has a terrible temper. If he files a formal complaint with Marcus, we’re both screwed.” I picked up my mug, gently blowing on the steaming tea. “Marcus canceled my travel reimbursements this morning. He also made it clear that my aging bladder makes me unfit for field work. I think a demanding, high-profile task like this is best left to a capable young man like yourself.” Luke stomped his foot in frustration. “Owen! How can you be so petty? We’re a team. You can’t just leave me hanging!” I set my tea down, my eyes calm. “Go ask Marcus. If he signs a formal emergency dispatch order, I’ll leave immediately.” Luke grit his teeth and ran toward the manager’s office. Two minutes later, he trudged back, looking utterly defeated. Marcus didn’t know the first thing about network engineering; his only solution was telling Luke to figure it out himself. At exactly six, the moment the clock struck end-of-day, I saved my files, shut down my computer, and picked up my backpack. My colleagues stared at me in disbelief. Normally, I was the last one to leave the office. Luke, still pulling his hair out in front of his monitor, called out frantically, “Owen! You can’t leave! The Southside server room is still dead!” I didn’t turn around. “My shift is over. See you tomorrow.” Walking out of the office building, the evening breeze felt incredibly refreshing. At eight-thirty that night, I was sitting on my sofa, enjoying an old movie, when my phone began to buzz violently. The department group chat was blowing up with messages from Luke. “@Owen, please pick up your phone! The Southside system is totally paralyzed! The entire commercial street has no internet! The client says if we don’t fix it tonight, they’re terminating the contract and demanding a full refund!” Right after, Marcus’s name flashed on my screen. I put the phone on silent, letting it ring out three times before I finally answered. The moment I pressed accept, Marcus’s furious roar blasted through the speaker. “Owen! Get your ass down to the Southside server room right now! For every minute you’re late, I’m docking a week’s pay!” I pulled the phone slightly away from my ear. “Is there a problem, Marcus?” 3 “Don’t play dumb with me!” Marcus screamed over the line. “The client is ready to smash our equipment! Grab a cab and get down there now!” I swallowed a bite of my dinner, chewing slowly before replying. “Marcus, it is currently 8:35 PM. That falls well within my personal, off-the-clock hours. Furthermore, you personally stripped me of my field privileges this morning. Have you forgotten?” “I am your manager, and you will do as you’re told!” he shrieked. “I am ordering you to go! This is an emergency work requirement!” I wiped my mouth with a napkin. “According to Section 3, Article 5 of the employee handbook, any non-emergency overtime after hours must be approved in writing by a department head, guaranteeing time-and-a-half pay. Where is my digital approval slip?” The line went dead quiet. It took him several seconds to find his voice, his teeth practically grinding together. “Fine, Owen. You think you’re clever, don’t you? Just wait until tomorrow.” He slammed the phone down. The next morning, I clocked in right on time. The atmosphere in the office was suffocatingly tense. Luke was slumped over his desk with deep dark circles under his eyes, looking half-dead after pulling an all-nighter at Southside. Marcus stormed out of his office with a thick stack of papers, his face dark. “Everyone, conference room. Morning meeting, now!” He threw the documents onto the table with a loud slam. “Some people in this department think that just because they have seniority and a bit of technical know-how, they are above the team! Our clients lose money, and they’re snoring away at home! Starting today, we have a new policy: everyone must keep their phones active after hours. If you fail to respond to a call within ten minutes, you’ll be fined five hundred dollars!” My colleagues exchanged uneasy glances, but under his oppressive gaze, no one dared to speak up. Satisfied with the silence, Marcus cleared his throat. “Additionally, I’d like to introduce a new member of our team.” He turned to the door, and a young man with bleached yellow hair and expensive streetwear sauntered in. He cast a dismissive, arrogant glance over the room. The scowl on Marcus’s face instantly dissolved into a sycophantic grin. “This is our new Project Manager, Thomas. Thomas is young, but he has a brilliant mind and comes to us from a top-tier corporation. I expect everyone to fully cooperate with him.” Someone whispered in the back, “Thomas? Isn’t that Marcus’s nephew?” Marcus shot a lethal glare in that direction, then turned his gaze slowly to me. “Owen. Your accounts that are up for renewal, especially Apex Enterprises, are being reassigned to Thomas starting today. For the next few days, you don’t need to do any actual field work. Just shadow Thomas and teach him how to manage these high-profile clients.” I saw right through it. Apex Enterprises was a multi-million-dollar account. Signing their renewal would net a massive commission, easily reaching six figures. Marcus wanted to steal my hard work and hand the glory directly to his nephew. Thomas walked over to my desk, looking me up and down. “Let me see the renewal proposal you drafted for Apex.” I opened my laptop and pulled up the document I had prepared weeks ago. Thomas stared at the screen for less than a minute before scoffing. “What is this garbage? You honestly expect to present this outdated junk to Mr. Caldwell at the bidding conference?” 4 Luke scrambled over, eagerly placing a cup of freshly brewed coffee in front of Thomas. “You took the words right out of my mouth, Thomas. Owen’s getting older, and his thinking is completely rigid. He relies entirely on outdated methods. These days, winning clients is all about synergy, ecosystem matrices, and underlying paradigms. His proposal is practically prehistoric. If you ask me, we should approach it like this…” I watched Luke spin a web of meaningless corporate buzzwords. Stepping back, I raised my hands in mock surrender. “Since you find my proposal so lacking, Thomas, I’ll happily step back and let you take full charge of the negotiations. My old-school brain clearly can’t keep up with your modern pace. To ensure I don’t hold the company back, I’m washing my hands of the Apex project.” Thomas smirked, raising an eyebrow. “At least you know your place. Without you dragging us down, I’ll close this deal with my eyes shut.” “Thomas is a true leader,” Luke gushed. “Incredibly decisive.” For the next couple of days, I clocked in and out exactly on time. While Thomas and Luke locked themselves in the conference room trying to construct their absurd “ecosystem matrix,” the office fell into complete disarray. Finally, the last day of our current service contract arrived. I pulled out a cardboard box and began packing my personal belongings. My colleagues whispered and watched me out of the corners of their eyes. Marcus stepped out of his office, letting out a mocking sneer at the sight. “Well, well, Owen. What’s all this? Throwing a tantrum and packing your bags to gain sympathy?” He walked over, tapping his knuckles against my desk. “Let me tell you, your little guilt trips won’t work on me.” I carefully placed my small desk succulent into the box and brushed the dust off my hands. “Actually, Marcus, since our service contracts are officially up today, I’ve decided to resign. Best of luck with everything.” I picked up my box and walked out. Behind me, the glass doors slid shut, cutting off Marcus’s frantic, angry shouting. The following morning at nine, I stood in the sleek lobby of Aegis Networks, dressed in a sharp suit. Preston was waiting at the entrance alongside his entire executive team. “Welcome aboard, Director Owen,” Preston said, shaking my hand warmly. By two in the afternoon, I was sitting in the main conference room of Apex Enterprises. The air conditioning was running high, keeping the room icy cool. As the representative of Aegis Networks, I had arrived early, sitting quietly at the far, dimly lit corner of the long table, adjusting data on my tablet. When Thomas and Luke swaggered into the room with their team, they didn’t even notice me. I watched them take their seats opposite me. While sorting through his papers, Luke happened to glance across the table. The moment he saw my face, his entire body froze, and the pen in his hand slipped, clattering onto the desk. He frantically nudged Thomas. Within seconds, both of them were squirming in their seats, their faces turning a visible shade of pale. Just then, the conference room doors swung open again. Marcus strode in, finishing up a phone call and taking his place at the head of their team, ready to dominate the presentation. But as soon as he sat down, he noticed the terrified expressions on his team’s faces. Following Luke’s trembling gaze, his eyes locked onto mine. Marcus stared, not even registering the Aegis Networks nameplate sitting in front of me. His face contorted with rage. He slammed his hand onto the table, pointing a finger directly at my face in front of everyone in the room. “Owen?! Are you out of your mind?” he shrieked. “You’re a fired piece of trash! How dare you sneak into an Apex boardroom? Have you no shame? Get the hell out of here right now!”

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1 I was about to cross the Atlantic with the life-saving matched targeted drug when my husband’s ex-wife suddenly rushed into the aisle. With red eyes, she flashed the international distress signal, thumb tucked inside a clenched fist, to the air marshal. My mother-in-law was clinging to life in the ICU. To seize the golden three-hour window for her surgery, I fought tooth and nail to protect the medical cooler, shoving the ex-wife into the lavatory and locking her in. I didn’t waste a single second delivering the drug to the operating room. We pulled my mother-in-law back from the brink of death. But because she was arrested for filing a false report and endangering aviation safety, my husband’s ex-wife sank into depression and took her own life in prison. On the day my mother-in-law was discharged, my husband lured me to the rooftop of the hospital and pushed me off without a shred of hesitation. “Seraphina was just too kind! She was only worried about everyone’s safety on that flight! How could you treat her like a terrorist?” I shattered onto the pavement below. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back in the cabin, with the air marshal’s baton drawn, closing in on me. This time, I didn’t struggle. I knelt, hands over my head, cooperating fully. “Officer, I suspect this box might be dangerous too. For everyone’s safety, please run a full bomb threat check immediately!” Whatever. Once we land, the person rotting in the ICU waiting for a surgery that will never happen isn’t my mother anyway. The air marshal pinned me against the cabin wall, my arms twisted painfully behind my back. That was the moment I knew I had actually traveled back in time. My husband, Oliver, was shielding Seraphina, his face painted with protective tenderness. “Don’t be scared, Seraphina. I’m right here. You’re safe.” Dressed in a pristine white maxi dress, Seraphina shrank behind Oliver like a startled fawn. Under the air marshal’s wary gaze, she pointed a trembling finger at the thermal cooler clutched in my arms, tears streaming down her face. “Officer, she has hazardous material! She’s trying to kill everyone on this plane! I couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I had to speak up!” The marshal’s expression hardened. He radioed for backup and snapped a plastic zip-tie around my wrists, shoving me rough against the paneling. I took a deep breath, keeping my voice deadpan. “Officer, this is a misunderstanding. I flew to Boston to collect matched targeted stem-cell drugs. This cooler contains life-saving medication for my mother-in-law in London. It’s not a bomb.” The officer stared at me, eyes filled with deep suspicion. In my past life, my mother-in-law had been genuinely kind to me, so a part of me still wanted her to survive. “Officer, she’s been placed on life support, and the hospital has issued three critical condition notices. Please inspect it quickly. If the temperature seal is compromised for too long, she won’t survive the night.” Hearing this, Oliver instantly barked at me: “Cut the crap, Gemma! The doctor literally called ten minutes ago and said Mom’s stable in the ICU! You’ve been acting like a manic wreck this entire trip, and now you’re cursing my own mother to die?” Seraphina’s eyes flickered. Seizing the moment, she adopted an expression of deep, sorrowful realization. “Did you hear that, Officer? His mother is perfectly fine, yet she’s putting on this frantic, life-or-death act! Look at how wild her eyes are. She’s definitely hiding something malicious! I can’t let any potential threat to innocent lives slip by!” Staring at the security guard’s taser, I didn’t scream, cry, or lose my mind like I did in my previous life. Instead, I calmly walked with the airport security team to the screening room to undergo a thorough inspection. Half an hour later. I presented every single prescription, purchase receipt, and international medical permit. After verifying the documents, the lead officer gave Seraphina a harsh, stern lecture on the legal consequences of making false reports and disrupting public order. Seraphina’s eyes welled with tears, but her jaw remained stubborn. “Officer, I only did it for everyone’s safety! What if there really was a threat and no one had the courage to speak up? Even if I’m misunderstood, I will always choose to protect people!” The officer rolled his eyes, a gesture completely lost on Seraphina. Before leaving, she didn’t forget to bow deeply to the exhausted security team, her voice dripping with sweet, angelic sincerity. “Thank you for keeping us safe, officers. You work so hard to fight crime. Please take good care of yourselves!” Once we stepped out of the security office, Oliver didn’t blame her at all. He pulled her into a comforting embrace and glared at me. “Gemma, what’s with the attitude? Seraphina is fragile. She only reported you because she was genuinely terrified! It’s your own fault for acting so sketchy and scaring her in the first place!” I looked at his self-righteous face and spoke in a flat tone. “Oliver, because of your ‘precautionary measures,’ our flight has already taken off without us.” 2 To catch the next available flight, we had to sprint through the massive airport terminal. I ran at the front, clutching the medical cooler. Seraphina, in her long white dress, stumbled behind, panting heavily. “Gemma… why are you running so fast… wait for me…” I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to glare at the lagging couple. “Why am I running? Because of you! We had plenty of time on the way to the airport. But you just had to spot a dead stray cat on the curb, force the driver to pull over, dig a grave, and hold a mini-funeral for it! You wasted thirty minutes!” “And then you pulled that stunt with security! If we don’t run now, we’ll miss this flight too. Do you actually want to save Oliver’s mother or not?” Hit where it hurt, Seraphina’s tears cascaded instantly. She clutched Oliver’s sleeve, looking utterly devastated. “Oliver, I’m so sorry… I just can’t stand to see animals suffer. Every life is equal, even a stray cat’s… How can Gemma be so heartless…” Oliver’s heart melted. He shielded Seraphina behind him and snapped at me with absolute irritation. “Gemma, that’s enough! The doctors said Mom is stable! What are you rushing for?” “Seraphina has the heart of a saint. She can’t stand seeing animals hurt. What did she do wrong? She’s willing to put herself on the line for others, while you’ve been acting like a bulldozer this entire trip!” I let out a cold laugh. “Oliver, the person we are flying to save is your mother.” “You think I don’t know that?!” Oliver snarled. “If she’s my mother, why are you rushing like the grim reaper is chasing us? Are you hoping she dies?!” I shut my mouth, refusing to waste another breath on this hopeless idiot, and boarded the plane. Of course, once we got on, Seraphina found another way to cause a scene. Her assigned seat was across the aisle from us, but she insisted on swapping seats with a passenger, demanding to sit right between Oliver and me. “I can’t. I’ll panic if I sit alone. I need to be next to Oliver…” The flight attendant tried to explain the seating policy, but Seraphina refused to budge, standing in the aisle with tear-filled eyes. Eventually, amid the annoyed groans of the surrounding passengers, Oliver stepped in to guilt-trip the poor passenger next to me until they finally gave up their seat. Sitting triumphantly between us, she wrapped her arm around Oliver’s, casting a smug, provocative glance my way. I didn’t even give her a second look. I slipped on my sleep mask and leaned back. Because of all these delays, the window for my mother-in-law’s surgery had shrunk to almost nothing. 3 Once the plane reached cruising altitude, we hit a pocket of turbulence. The cabin jolted violently. Beep The medical cooler in my lap let out a faint, high-pitched mechanical hum as its internal cooling system adjusted to the vibration. Hearing the beep, Seraphina, who had been secretly watching me the whole time, flinched. It was as if some loose wire in her brain had suddenly sparked. “Oh my god! No!” She threw off her blanket and leaped up like a lunatic, pointing a trembling finger at the cooler in my arms, screaming hysterically. “That’s a bomb timer, isn’t it?! That’s why you lied about his mom dying! That’s why you were acting so desperate to smuggle this box onto the plane!” “No! I won’t let you do this! Everyone, run!” She lunged at me. Her sudden shriek instantly jolted the dozing passengers awake. Seraphina pinned me down, sobbing uncontrollably as she made her dramatic accusation to the crowd. “I get it! You’re jealous because Oliver has been looking after me during this trip! You think he still loves me! You let your jealousy turn into hatred, and now you want to blow up the plane and take everyone down with you!” She wept beautifully, looking like a tragic saint willing to sacrifice herself for humanity. “But Gemma, these passengers are innocent! If you hate me, I’ll beg the captain to open the cabin door right now! I’ll jump! I’ll give my life to save everyone else, just please spare Oliver and these innocent people!” Terrified out of their wits by her theatrical performance, the passengers panicked. They scrambled away from us, screaming for the flight crew. “Jesus! A bomb?! Where is security?!” “Search her box! Don’t let her touch anything!” And Oliver, the absolute moron, was moved to tears by Seraphina’s selflessness. He threw his arms around her to protect her, staring at me in sheer disbelief. “You actually put a bomb in that box just to get back at us?! Are you insane?! Even if you hate Seraphina, how could you risk the lives of an entire flight? You are a monster!” I held onto the cooler tightly. “Are you out of your mind? You know exactly what’s in here! It’s your mother’s targeted medication! It must be kept under sterile, temperature-controlled conditions. If we break the seal and expose it to cabin air, the formula will be ruined!” “Stop lying!” Oliver bellowed. “It’s just a quick look! How could looking at it ruin the medicine? The more you hide it, the guiltier you look! Did you swap the medicine for a bomb when we weren’t looking?!” Faced with a cabin full of hostile, screaming passengers, I calmly pulled a thick folder of documents from my bag and handed it to the lead flight attendant. “These are the purchase certificates from the lab in Boston, along with the customs clearance and medical transport permits for both countries. You can verify them. Security would never have cleared a bomb.” The flight attendant carefully inspected the paperwork, letting out a massive sigh of relief. She turned to reassure the passengers. “Please calm down, everyone. This passenger’s documentation is entirely legitimate. The noise was just the standard cooling cycle of her medical equipment.” As the tension dissolved, the passengers’ fear quickly curdled into disgust. They glared at Seraphina. “What is wrong with her? Making up a whole conspiracy theory out of nowhere!” “Nearly gave me a heart attack. What a psycho.” Seraphina panicked as the crowd turned on her. She shrank into Oliver’s arms, whimpering, “Oliver, I was only trying to protect everyone. I would never let anyone harm a single soul. Not even Gemma…” Oliver turned his wrath on me. “Gemma, look what you’ve done! Are you happy now that everyone is ganging up on Seraphina?! If you had just shown the paperwork earlier, none of this would have happened!” Just as the flight attendant was about to ask Seraphina to return to her seat, Seraphina suddenly covered her ears and let out an even louder, more blood-curdling shriek. “No! I heard it again! The beep! The bomb is about to go off!!!” 4 “Help! Someone help!” Right on the heels of Seraphina’s piercing scream, a frantic cry for help erupted from a few rows back. An elderly man, who had already looked pale, had been frightened into cardiac arrest by Seraphina’s screaming. He was convulsing, clutching his chest, and collapsing into the aisle. “My dad has a heart condition! Is there a doctor?!” the man’s son sobbed in sheer terror. The cabin descended into utter chaos. The crew frantically made an emergency announcement asking for any medical professionals on board, but not a single doctor or nurse was on the flight. Seraphina looked at the dying man, then felt the murderous glares of the surrounding passengers. Her eyes darted around, and she suddenly pointed a finger at the thermal cooler in my lap, shrieking at the top of her lungs. “Gemma! Since you claim it’s not a bomb but a miracle drug, save him! Use it on the old man!” “If this medicine can save Oliver’s mother, it can save him too! A life is at stake, open the box and give it to him!” I was nearly laughing at her brainless logic. “Seraphina, this is a targeted therapy drug specifically designed for organ failure, not a magical potion! He is having an acute myocardial infarction. The pharmacology is completely different. If you inject him with targeted stem-cell therapy, you’ll kill him even faster!” But Seraphina wouldn’t back down. She dropped to her knees in the aisle, unleashing her favorite weapon: moral extortion. “You’re just selfish! You don’t want to save him, or maybe you’re just terrified of opening that box! If there isn’t a bomb inside, why are you so desperate to keep it closed?!” “You would rather watch an old man die right in front of us than lend a hand! How can you be so cruel? If it were my medicine, I would have given it up in a heartbeat!” I ignored the lunatic and turned to Oliver, my eyes colder than ice. “Oliver, do you really want me to open this box? I am warning you one last time. The moment we break this seal, the drug is completely ruined. This is your mother’s life we are talking about.” Before Oliver could speak, Seraphina leaned weakly against his shoulder, whimpering softly. “Oliver… Gemma is so cruel… Just to protect her petty pride, she’d rather watch this poor man die and use your mother’s name to threaten you…” Slap! A sharp, stinging blow struck my cheek. My head jerked to the side, my skin burning with sudden pain. Oliver retracted his hand, pointing a trembling finger at my face as he yelled. “Gemma, I’ve had enough of you! The entire trip, it’s always ‘your mother this’ and ‘your mother that’! You’ve done nothing but curse my mom! I know you don’t give a damn about her. You’re just using her condition to make things difficult for Seraphina!” He pulled Seraphina protectively against his chest, puffing his own out with self-righteous anger. “Seraphina literally quit her job and fasted to pray for my mother’s health. She even flew out to Boston with me! What did you do? You just stood there acting smug and holding this stupid box!” Seraphina shed a tear, pressing her hands together like a devout saint. “Oliver, saving a life brings good karma. It’s a blessing for your mother. If she knew we saved this man, God would surely look down on her with mercy.” “Did you hear that?!” Brainwashed to the core, Oliver roared at me. “Open the damn box and save him! If anything happens, I’ll take the blame!” I touched my swollen cheek, and a cold, dark smile spread across my face. Years ago, when my mother-in-law had forced them to divorce, she had held my hand and told me that Seraphina’s toxic martyrdom would eventually destroy their entire family. How prophetic those words were. “Fine. Remember, you asked for this.” I’m sorry, Mom, I thought. No matter how much I wanted to save you, your own son wouldn’t let me. I handed the sealed thermal cooler to the hovering flight attendant. “Miss, since the family of the patient is demanding it, please open the box in front of everyone.” Desperate to defuse the cabin panic and check for any threat, the flight attendant quickly grabbed a pair of shears. A sharp click echoed through the quiet cabin. The sterile seal of the cooler was broken. The passengers held their breath. The old man’s son leaned forward, eyes wide with desperate hope. Oliver eagerly reached out his hand, eyes fixed on the opening lid. “Quick, give me the medicine…” But his voice died in his throat. His hand froze mid-air. The entire cabin stared into the box, and a collective gasp of horror rippled through the passengers. Oliver slowly turned to me, his eyes bloodshot, and let out a wild, frenzied scream. “Gemma!!! What the hell is this?! Where is my mother’s medicine?!”

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1 “My husband is a vindictive, hot-tempered, incredibly petty piece of work.” “He loves throwing hands when he is angry. If he finds out I lost his phone, he is going to absolutely murder me!” The girl on the other end of the line was ugly-crying so hard she was practically snorting, and the sheer terror in her voice made me shiver. “He… he actually hits you?” I asked, my voice dropping. “Oh, you have no idea! He even…” Before she could finish, a cold, deep male voice sliced through the background noise. “Piper, where is my phone?” Click. The line went dead. I hastily pulled the phone away from my ear to look at the screen. Damn it. Of all the times to die, it had to run out of battery right now. 2 I had a conference to catch, and I could not afford to stand around waiting. My only option was to rush to the convention center and hunt down a portable charger. As I walked, a heavy knot of worry settled in my stomach. Had that poor girl already been hurt? I made up my mind right then. No matter who this guy was, the moment I handed the phone back, I was going to demand he delete every single photo of me. Using some random girl’s picture as his lock screen when he already had a wife? If he was not disgusted by his own behavior, I certainly was. Outside the main exhibition hall, I scanned a QR code at a charging station. While waiting for the power bank to pop out, the hushed whispers of two girls nearby caught my attention. “Did you hear? Hank is here today as a keynote speaker for the main summit!” Hearing that name, my breath caught in my throat. The other girl sighed dreamily. “Hank? No way! A titan like him actually came to this forum? It is such a shame we are stuck in the breakout sessions. The schedules overlap completely. Otherwise, even if we couldn’t hear his speech, we could have stalked the main lobby just to get a glimpse of his gorgeous face.” Clack. The power bank unlocked. I shook myself out of my daze, grabbed the charger, and plugged the phone in. Beside me, the girls had already shifted from business gossip to personal rumors. “By the way, is Hank single? I don’t think I’ve ever seen any media coverage about his private life.” “He must be. I remember reading in some old interview that he had someone he loved back in the day, but she passed away.” Hearing that, the lingering spark of interest in my chest vanished. Was the mortality rate of young women exceptionally high these days? Why did every guy seem to have a tragically deceased first love? Just then, the screen of the lost phone lit up. Before I could even swipe, a flurry of notifications flooded the screen. Ten missed calls. The phone’s GPS is active. I have locked onto your location. Contact me within ten minutes, or I am involving the police. I have filed a report. If you do not contact me immediately, you will face the consequences when the authorities show up. Please, I beg you, give my husband his phone back. He has already slapped me seven times! He is just a really aggressive guy, please don’t be angry. Just have some pity on me and pick up! The messages came from two different numbers. The first set was clearly from the owner, while the desperate pleas at the end were from the crying girl I had spoken to earlier. Judging by the texts, this man was a toxic, arrogant piece of trash. Suddenly, the phone began to ring again. I picked up, and the girl’s frantic sobbing immediately filled my ear. “Oh, thank god! Thank god you finally answered!” “I am so sorry,” I apologized quickly. “The phone died, and I just managed to find a charger. I am currently at a conference. If it’s convenient, could you come by and pick it up?” When I gave her the address, the girl gasped. “What a coincidence! We are actually right nearby. I can be there in five minutes!” To make sure we did not miss each other, I gave her my personal cell phone number as well. After hanging up, I hesitated. Before heading downstairs, I pulled out my wide-brimmed sun hat and a matching face mask from my bag. Once I was sure that only my eyes were visible, I headed toward the main lobby. As I passed the grand hall, the announcer’s voice echoed through the double doors, introducing the guest of honor. The moment the name Hank was spoken, a thunderous wave of applause erupted inside the room. Through the half-open doors, I caught a glimpse of a tall man in a tailored charcoal suit being led onto the stage by the event staff. Time seemed to freeze. In that fleeting second, I was thrown back seven years, looking at the brilliant teenager who had stood on the stage at our high school graduation, delivering the valedictorian speech. He was just as dazzling, just as impossibly out of reach. The phone in my hand buzzed, breaking the spell. “Hey, I’m at the main entrance. Where are you?” Taking a deep breath, I forced my eyes away from the stage and hurried outside. 3 Stepping through the glass doors, I immediately spotted a young woman. She looked to be in her early twenties, wearing a delicate floral dress, clutching her purse with an anxious expression. I walked up to her. “Are you Piper?” The girl’s eyes lit up, and she nodded rapidly. “Yes, that’s me!” I handed the black phone over to her. As she took it, I carefully examined her face. Her skin was flawless and fair, without a single trace of swelling or redness that would suggest she had been struck. As if reading my mind, she casually touched her cheek. “I am used to it by now. My skin has built up a tolerance, so a couple of slaps don’t really leave a mark anymore.” She quickly opened her payment app. “Is your username linked to your phone number? I want to transfer a few thousand dollars to you as a thank-you.” A few thousand? I waved my hands frantically. “No, please, there’s no need. It was just a lost phone. It didn’t take up any of my time.” “How can you say that? You have no idea how much this means to me.” She pointed at the lock screen, which still displayed my old high school photo, and offered a bittersweet smile. “See this? She is his absolute treasure. If this phone had been lost forever, I don’t even want to think about what he would have done to me.” The discomfort in my chest deepened. What a disgusting, hypocritical bastard. He abused his wife at home while running around pretending to mourn a dead girl. I had intended to tell her that the girl in the photo was actually me, but looking at her anxious face, I decided against making things more awkward. Adjusting my mask, I asked quietly, “Is your husband not with you?” “My husband? Who? Oh, right! Him,” she stammered, looking slightly flustered. “He was supposed to come, but his meeting started at the same time, so he couldn’t make it.” So I would not be seeing him today. “You should probably delete that photo for him,” I suggested gently. “Now that he is married, keeping another woman’s picture like that isn’t fair to you.” “Oh, I couldn’t do that!” She shook her head quickly. “I wouldn’t dare.” Seeing my frown, she let out a soft sigh. “What can I do? I am just a glorified placeholder anyway. He only married me because I happen to look like the girl in that photo.” I looked up, staring at the girl who was easily half a head taller than me. She had long legs, a slender waist, a sharp jawline, and perfectly styled wavy hair. I, on the other hand, was barely five-foot-four, weighed a modest hundred and ten pounds, and had a soft, round face with blunt bangs. In what universe did we look alike? After a brief silence, I asked, “If he treats you like this, why do you stay with him?” “He’s filthy rich,” she replied instantly, without a shred of hesitation. Her blunt honesty left me completely speechless. Before I could think of a response, her phone began to ring. I caught a glimpse of the caller ID on her screen: Wyatt. She picked up, her voice instantly turning meek. “I found it! Yes, I have it. I’m coming back right now.” Hanging up, she gave me an apologetic smile. “He is rushing me. Thank you so much again for today!” I waved goodbye, and she scurried off into the crowd. So, the owner of the phone was Wyatt. He was indeed my high school classmate. 4 Though Wyatt and I had not been in the same class, I remembered him clearly. Mostly because of Hank. The two of them had been inseparable childhood friends. Every day after class, Wyatt would wait outside Hank’s classroom so they could head to the cafeteria together. As the top two students who constantly dominated the academic honor roll, they were always the center of attention. Although we had rarely spoken, I remembered Wyatt as a warm, smiling guy who seemed to get along with everyone. Who could have guessed he was such a monster behind closed doors? The priority now was to get in touch with him and force him to delete my photo. But ever since my car accident in senior year and my sudden transfer, I had lost touch with everyone from that school. As I stood there trying to figure out how to contact him, my manager rushed over, looking frantic. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you in the breakout rooms. Come with me, quick!” I blinked. “What’s wrong?” “I just found out Hank is here in the main hall. Our company has been trying to pitch a partnership to his firm for months, but we could never get past his secretaries. The CEO just called and ordered me to secure a contact opportunity by any means necessary.” Securing a contact opportunity by any means necessary. That sounded exactly like the kind of desperate, half-baked plan our boss would come up with. My manager pushed me gently toward the exit of the main hall. “You’re the prettiest girl in our department. You go make the pitch.” What? Me? “No, no, I can’t do that, I…” Before I could finish protesting, the double doors swung open. Hank’s keynote had concluded. A small crowd of executives flanked him as he walked out of the auditorium. Hank walked right at the front, his expression cold and aloof, carrying an aura that practically screamed at people to keep their distance. I stared at him as he approached, just as I had watched him walk down the high school hallways a thousand times before. My heart pounded so violently I could barely breathe. Just as he was about to pass us, my manager gave me a sharp, heavy shove from behind. Off-balance and completely unprepared, I stumbled forward and crashed straight into Hank’s chest. The bustling lobby instantly went dead silent. I instinctively covered my face. Thank god my sun mask was still on. 5 Nobody knew this, but I had spent six months of my life hopelessly chasing Hank. During senior year, we had briefly been assigned as desk partners. Captivated by his quiet brilliance, I had spent every single day manufacturing excuses to ask him academic questions just to hear him speak. My final memory of him was the afternoon I had confessed my feelings, my cheeks burning with hope, only to be met with his icy glare. “I found being your desk partner incredibly annoying.” “I found your constant questions incredibly annoying.” “And now, you telling me that you like me is just as annoying.” “Grace, could you please just stay away from me?” At an age when I believed myself to be invincible, I experienced a crushing, humiliating defeat. To make matters worse, the very next morning, a speeding truck crashed into my father’s car while he was driving me to school. The injuries were severe. We were rushed to a specialist hospital in Savannah for emergency surgery. Later, as my father’s recovery required long-term follow-ups, my family decided to relocate permanently, and I finished my studies at a school in Savannah. That unrequited, humiliating confession became a dark piece of history I tried my best to bury. In the present, the man standing in front of me finally spoke, his voice low and vibrating against my hands. “How long do you plan on holding onto me?” “I am so sorry, so sorry!” Clutching my mask and keeping my head low, I scrambled backward to stand upright. Hank frowned slightly, preparing to walk away. My manager hissed from behind me, “Grace! Make the pitch! Say something!” Hank probably wanted to throw me out of the building, let alone listen to a business pitch. As I took another step back to retreat, Hank suddenly stopped and turned around, his sharp eyes locking onto me. “What is your name?” Before I could open my mouth, my manager chimed in eagerly, “Mr. Vance, her name is Grace!” With my identity exposed, I had no choice but to pull down my mask and offer a weak, awkward wave. “Hi, Hank. Long time no see. Do you remember me?” For three agonizing minutes, Hank just stared at me, completely speechless. Seeing his lack of reaction, I slowly lowered my hand, my smile freezing on my face. Trying to save some dignity, I chuckled dryly. “We went to the same high school, though I transferred out later. It’s completely normal if you don’t remember me.” Hank’s eyes were wide with a shock so profound it looked almost like disbelief. Still, he said nothing. Deciding to stop embarrassing myself, I cleared my throat. “Well, we won’t trouble you any further…” I turned to escape, but Hank’s voice suddenly cracked the silence. “Are you looking for me for something?” “No, I…” “Yes! Yes, of course!” my manager interrupted, nudging me hard. I forced myself to speak. “We were just wondering if your firm would be open to discussing a potential collaboration with our company, Apex Solutions?” He stood quiet for a long moment, as if trying to recall if such a minor company even existed. “You work at Apex? I recall their headquarters is based in Savannah?” “Yes. My father and I were hospitalized there after our accident, and my family ended up settling down in the city permanently.” “So back then… you only transferred?” “Of course.” The expression on his face turned incredibly complex. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving him looking pale and suddenly dark. After what felt like an eternity, he spoke. “Your contact information.” “What?” “If you want to discuss a collaboration, how am I supposed to reach you without your contact info?” That actually sounded promising. I hurriedly pulled out my phone and displayed my QR code. “We can add each other here. It’s faster.” He reached into his pocket, and his expression faltered again. “I forgot my phone. Tell me your number, and I will have my assistant note it down.” Who forgot their phone in this day and age? It felt like a polite brush-off. Disappointed, I recited my number, and his assistant quickly jotted it down. Hank looked at me. “Is that all you wanted to discuss? Just business? Nothing else?” What else could there possibly be? We were practically strangers now. But his question did remind me of something. “Actually, there is one personal thing.” His shoulders seemed to relax slightly. “Go ahead.” “Do you happen to have Wyatt’s phone number?” Hank’s face instantly went cold. “Why are you looking for him?” Embarrassed to admit that Wyatt had my picture on his lock screen, I stammered, “Just… some personal matters to clear up.” “I don’t have it,” he snapped, his tone freezing over. With his sudden shift in attitude, I did not dare to push further. I merely offered a quiet, “Thank you anyway.” I guess he still disliked me as much as he did in high school. 6 That evening, shortly after I checked into my hotel, a friend request notification popped up on my phone. My heart skipped a beat when I saw the name: Hank. My fingers moved faster than my brain, immediately tapping Accept. Almost instantly, a message popped up. Are you staying at a hotel near the venue? I blinked. Yes, why? Send me your location. You dropped something when you bumped into me earlier. I’ll drive over to return it. My things? What did I drop? Send me the location, and you can see for yourself when I get there. A wave of panic hit me. What if something valuable had fallen out of my bag when I crashed into him? I quickly shared my location. If it’s too far, I can come pick it up myself. It’s fine. Be downstairs in fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes. That was barely enough time to do anything. I leaped out of bed, grabbed my cosmetics bag, and began applying foundation at lightning speed. Halfway through blending, I stopped. I was literally just going downstairs to grab a dropped item. Why on earth was I putting on makeup? I felt a sudden rush of annoyance at myself. Seven years had passed, yet the mere mention of Hank’s name still had the power to make me lose my mind. To prove a point to myself, I washed my face entirely clean, threw on a casual oversized jacket, and went down to the lobby. Hank’s car was already parked by the curb. He was leaning against the passenger side door. He had discarded his formal suit jacket, wearing only a relaxed grey linen shirt that made him look incredibly handsome in the dim streetlights. Seeing me approach, he stood up and walked over. He opened his palm, revealing a delicate, sparkling diamond bracelet. “Is this yours?” I stared at the expensive jewelry. Did Hank have some massive misconception about my financial status? “No,” I said, scratching my head. “If you had just sent me a photo, you wouldn’t have had to drive all this way for nothing. I’m really sorry for making you waste your time.” “Take another look. Are you sure it’s not yours?” Hank frowned. “It definitely isn’t.” “That’s strange,” he muttered, looking genuinely puzzled. “I haven’t had a girlfriend in years, and there hasn’t been another woman near me today except you. If it isn’t yours, whose could it be?” How would I know? Seeing my silence, he withdrew his hand. “Since it’s not yours, I’ll let my assistant handle it.” He didn’t linger. “Go back inside and get some rest. Goodnight.” With that, he got into his car and drove away. Watching his taillights disappear into the evening traffic, I fell into a deep silence. Hank had driven all this way, late at night, just to personally check if a diamond bracelet belonged to me? I had returned a lost phone today, but compared to Hank’s meticulous integrity, I felt completely outclassed. As expected of the high school genius. He excelled at everything, even being a good Samaritan.

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1 The first time I asked for a divorce, Buzz looked at me with those calm, reasonable eyes and said, “At least wait until our son finishes middle school.” I nodded, swallowing my grievances. The second time I brought it up, Buzz used the same gentle, unyielding tone. “At least wait until he graduates from high school.” Again, I nodded, letting another chunk of my life slip away. Now, our son had finally finished his college entrance exams. When I brought up the divorce for the third time, Buzz still refused to sign the papers. Suddenly, everyone in our social circle felt entitled to offer their opinion. “You’ve spent half your life together. Why are you suddenly making such a fuss about a divorce now?” “Exactly. Buzz is a successful businessman, and he still looks incredibly handsome in his late forties. Frankly, Vivian, you’re the one winning here.” Even my own son, Anson, came to lecture me. “Mom, I know Aunt Annette has always been a thorn in your side. But it’s been so many years, and everyone is getting older. Why can’t you just let it go?” But a thorn buried deep in the flesh does not simply disappear. It festers. It throbs with a quiet, agonizing pain with every single breath. Buzz could not pull that thorn out of my heart. So, I had no choice but to cut Buzz out of my life entirely. 2 Despite the overwhelming disapproval from everyone around me, my decision was final. Anson stood in front of the bedroom door, blocking my exit, his voice dripping with childish defiance. “Mom, if you actually go through with this divorce, I swear I won’t go to college.” I continued folding my blouses, my voice flat and devoid of emotion. “Anson, you are an adult now. You have to take full responsibility for your own choices. If you decide to throw away the last twelve years of your hard work, that is on you.” My blunt response caught him off guard. Flustered and speechless, he whipped out his phone to call his father for backup. “Dad! You need to get home right now! Mom is packing her bags!” I did not care what Buzz said on the other end. I only knew he hung up in a hurry, leaving Anson to throw a tantrum in our room. “Mom, please don’t leave. Please?” It was the same routine he had performed so many times before. In the past, my heart would have melted. Seeing the child I had carried for nine months cry was always my weakness. It was the anchor that had dragged me down, keeping me trapped in this suffocating house for years. But today, looking at his pleading, tear-streaked face, I felt absolutely nothing. I quietly continued packing my clothes, my jewelry, and my legal documents, placing them piece by piece into my suitcase. Suddenly, a large, firm hand clamped down on the rim of the suitcase, halting my movements. Thinking it was Anson trying to aggravate me again, I prepared to tell him to back off. But when I looked up, I met Buzz’s face. He was still as elegant and refined as ever. Time had been exceptionally kind to him; his face had barely changed from the day he had sweet-talked me into marrying him. Yet, his usually unshakeable composure was showing cracks. “Honey, please stop making a scene.” I stood up straight, meeting his gaze. “I am not making a scene.” I truly, deeply, could not live with him for another second. But to Buzz, this was just another minor domestic dispute that could be resolved with a bit of coaxing. He took a tentative step forward. “Are you still upset about Anson’s name?” Upset? I had been plagued by that name for almost two decades. Anson. Anson, which sounded so painfully close to Annette. Buzz had used the birth of our only child to permanently memorialize the woman who held his heart, his true “white moonlight.” How could I not be upset? 3 My introduction to Buzz had been arranged by a mutual friend, Penny. At the time, Penny had practically sworn on her life. “Vivian, trust me on this. He is the definition of a high-quality bachelor.” She had not lied to me. The young Buzz was incredibly handsome, wealthy, and charming. During our first meeting, he had swept me off my feet, and everything had progressed naturally from dating to a beautiful wedding, followed shortly by the birth of our son, Anson. In those early years, I had genuinely believed that God had blessed me with a perfect life. Until Anson’s first birthday party. That afternoon, many of Buzz’s childhood friends had gathered at our house. They were almost entirely men, and when men gather, the alcohol flows freely. And when they drink too much, secrets become impossible to keep. Buzz’s oldest friend, Greg, was the first to lose his filter. Slurring his words and hiccuping, he leaned over the table. “Hey, Buzz… did you name your kid Anson because you still can’t get over Annette?” It was the first time I had ever heard that name. Before Greg could elaborate, another friend scrambled to cover his mouth, trying to laugh it off. “What are you babbling about, Greg? Buzz obviously chose the name because it sounds noble and classic! It means ‘son of the divine’!” “Exactly! It’s a beautiful, literary name. Don’t listen to this drunk idiot.” But Buzz, who had just downed a glass of whiskey, sat beside me with a glazed, wistful look on his face. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice thick with a quiet melancholy. “I really can’t forget her.” The friends panicked, trying to shut him up, but Greg broke free from their grip, laughing mockingly. “Of course he can’t! Buzz spent twenty years telling everyone he was going to marry Annette, since he was eight years old. Then she goes and marries some starving artist. Who could possibly get over that?” The revelation hit me like a physical blow. It was a past Buzz had completely hidden from me. Before I could demand an explanation, Greg passed out face-first onto the dining table. Buzz let out a loud, drunken laugh. “Greg, you lightweight! You promised you’d help me win her back…” The rest of Buzz’s sentence was muffled as three of his friends practically tackled him to keep him quiet. The dining room descended into a chaotic scramble of excuses. “Vivian, don’t mind them. They’re just talking complete nonsense because of the alcohol. Buzz isn’t like that at all.” “Yeah, Vivian, that’s all ancient history. You’re the one who is his wife now.” It was a chaotic mess. That night, Buzz slept like a baby, his secret laid bare by his friends without a hint of remorse on his part. But I stayed awake. Under the cold moonlight, I stared at our infant son, then at Buzz’s sleeping face, until the sun began to rise. The next morning, Buzz woke up, clearly annoyed by his drunken display from the night before. He offered a brief, dismissive explanation. “Annette and I are in the past.” I was twenty-seven when I met the twenty-eight-year-old Buzz. I was not naive enough to expect him to have a completely blank romantic history. But I could not accept my son being named as a monument to his ex-lover. Yet, Buzz flatly refused to change the name. When I kept pushing the issue, his frustration boiled over. “It’s just a name, Vivian. Why do you have to be so incredibly petty?” But was it really just a name? The tension between us escalated. I took our son and went to the government registry to legally change his name myself, only to find out that Buzz had already blocked any unilateral changes. When I threatened a divorce, Buzz had looked at me and said, “Our son is too young. At least wait until he finishes middle school.” When I refused to back down, his tone had turned cold and threatening. “Vivian, you might not care about this marriage, but do you still care about your family’s business partnership with the Sinclair Group?” My parents’ livelihood depended on that partnership. Buzz’s grip on me was ironclad, ruthless, and terrifyingly effective. Over the years, I had tried to cope. I had even foolishly hoped that perhaps somewhere deep down, Buzz had grown to love me. But eventually, I realized I was nothing more than a clown in his grand romantic tragedy. From marrying me to having a child, to refusing to let me go, Buzz’s entire life was an elaborate performance designed to comfort Annette. He wanted to show her: Look, even without you, I am living a perfect, successful life. So, Annette, you go ahead and chase your happiness. You don’t have to worry about me. 4 Buzz yanked my suitcase behind him, his tone softening into a gentle, pleading murmur. “If it really bothers you that much, we can go and legally change Anson’s name tomorrow.” For nearly twenty years, I had begged for this. Now that he was finally offering it, I realized I did not want it anymore. Buzz watched me, his expression almost submissive. “What would you like to rename him?” Before I could answer that his offer was decades too late, Anson interrupted, his voice dripping with annoyance. “I’m not changing my name! My name is Anson, and I love it! Mom, why are you always so obsessed with Aunt Annette? Is it really that big of a deal?” A spark of anger flared in my chest. “It is not a small thing!” Anson raised his voice, shouting over me. “It is! You’re just incredibly jealous of Aunt Annette! That’s why you threw away all her old photos and gifts from our house, and now you want to ruin my name too!” Slap. Buzz’s hand struck Anson’s cheek with a sharp crack. “How dare you speak to your mother like that? Get out of here!” Anson clutched his reddening cheek in utter disbelief. “I only said what you always think! Mom is just a bitter, stubborn woman, and someone needed to tell her the truth!” Before he could finish his sentence, my hand flew across his other cheek, striking him just as hard. Anson stumbled backward, tears welling in his eyes. He glared at both of us before bolting toward the front door. “I’m going to Aunt Annette’s house, and I’m never coming back!” The bedroom finally fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. Buzz rubbed his temples, trying to smooth things over. “He is just an immature kid, Vivian. Don’t take his words to heart. And please, let’s not talk about divorce anymore. Annette and I have been completely over for years.” “But Anson is eighteen,” I said, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. “Why do you think he is so incredibly attached to his ‘Aunt Annette’?” “Is it because you spent years singing her praises to him? Or is it because you constantly snuck him over to her house behind my back?” “Or was it both?” Buzz thought he had hidden his tracks perfectly. But every single time the two of them returned from their “father-son outings,” they would reek of a heavy citrus cologne, a pathetic attempt to mask the distinct lavender scent that Annette always wore. It had been going on for years. 5 There was a time when the sheer exhaustion of fighting had worn away my sharp edges. I had accepted my fate, resigning myself to a lifetime of quiet misery just to give my son a stable home. After Anson finished middle school, neither Buzz nor I had brought up the divorce again, maintaining a fragile, silent truce. When Anson entered high school, his grades began to slip. Buzz suggested sending him to a private physics tutor, and Anson had agreed, attending the sessions with an unusual amount of enthusiasm. I had assumed he simply had a charismatic teacher. Until three months later. Buzz was tied up with an important client, so I offered to drive Anson to his session. The moment I suggested it, Anson’s behavior turned incredibly bizarre. First, he claimed to have a sudden, agonizing stomach ache. Then, he complained of a migraine. He did everything in his power to avoid getting into my car. My suspicions were aroused. The following week, when Buzz drove him to his tutoring session, I quietly followed them in my own car. Their vehicle eventually pulled up in front of a gorgeous villa surrounded by blooming fields of lavender. Anson jumped out of the passenger seat, running toward the front door with a bright, genuine smile. “Aunt Annette! We’re here!” Aunt Annette. The name felt like a physical blow to my chest. A beautiful, elegant woman walked out of the villa, her face lighting up as she greeted him. Anson grinned, practically bouncing on his heels. “Aunt Annette, I want to eat your special short ribs today, and your roasted beef…” “I’ve already prepared everything,” she replied, her voice soft and maternal. Buzz stepped out of the car, carrying a brand-new Hermès shopping bag, which he handed to her with a familiar warmth. “Annette, you really shouldn’t spoil him so much…” The scene was picture-perfect, a warm, loving family reunion. And to me, it was the ultimate, cold-blooded betrayal. I gripped the steering wheel so hard my knuckles turned white. I did not want to storm into her house and act like a hysterical, screaming wife demanding answers. I refused to give them the satisfaction of looking down on me. I quietly turned my car around and drove back to our empty house. I sat in the dark, watching the streetlights flicker through the window, hiding my humiliation in the shadows. It was late in the evening when Buzz and Anson finally returned. They walked through the door, practically radiating a thick, suffocating scent of lavender. I sent Anson up to his room, leaving me alone with Buzz. I tossed the photos I had taken onto the coffee table. “I thought he was going to a tutoring center. Since when does his physics tutor live in a private villa?” Buzz turned on the lights. When he saw the photos, the color drained from his face, and he looked momentarily panicked. “Annette was always excellent at physics,” he stammered. “I just thought she could help Anson with his grades.” His excuse was laughably pathetic. “I checked her records, Buzz,” I said, my voice cracking with years of unshed tears. “Annette was an art major. How on earth is she qualified to tutor our son in physics?” That night, our house erupted into the worst screaming match of our marriage, ending with my second demand for a divorce. But once again, Buzz found my weakness. “Anson is at a critical juncture in his life with his upcoming college entrance exams. Let’s at least wait until he graduates, Vivian. For his sake.” He knew exactly which strings to pull to keep me in line. I lost all my strength, and I agreed to wait one last time. But even after that confrontation, they continued to sneak over to Annette’s villa. They simply became more careful, drenching themselves in that strong citrus cologne before coming home to cover up the lavender scent. Over time, my heart simply went numb. I lost my weakness. I spent the remaining years counting down the days until Anson’s high school graduation. I was finally ready to leave Buzz and this toxic house behind. 6 Faced with my cold, unwavering stare, Buzz found himself completely out of excuses. But even if he had a thousand more lies, he could not stop me from leaving. I yanked my suitcase back from his grip, my voice deadly quiet. “Buzz, three strikes and you’re out. You need to let me go.” Buzz’s face darkened, but he realized he had no leverage left. The business partnerships between our families had been systematically phased out ever since I took over my family’s company. Any minor losses from a split would not affect us in the slightest. As for Anson, he was an adult now. He could no longer be used as a hostage to keep me trapped. Buzz opened and closed his mouth, desperately searching for something to say. Finally, he resorted to playing the emotional card. “Vivian, please. I know I’ve made mistakes. I know I used to love Annette, and I know I’ve hurt you deeply. But we’ve built a life together over the last twenty years. I’ve grown to care for you, and I swear, I have never physically cheated on you since the day we married.” It was almost comical. Did he truly believe that emotional infidelity was not a betrayal? He had treated me as a convenient shield to hide his failed romance, and he had named the child I carried for nine months to honor his first love. And he dared to claim he had never wronged me? Any lingering affection I had for him had died years ago, buried under a mountain of lies. “We are getting a divorce,” I said, my tone flat. “From now on, you can call me Vivian, or you can call me your soon-to-be ex-wife.” My absolute certainty seemed to terrify him. “Please don’t do this. We can talk about this.” “There is nothing left to talk about! I have spent two decades tolerating you and this hollow marriage. Let me go, Buzz. The divorce papers are on the kitchen island. I will see you at the courthouse at nine tomorrow morning.” Buzz tried to grab my arm, but I brushed past him, pushing him out of my way as I walked out of the bedroom. My shove was hard enough to send him stumbling back a few steps before he regained his footing. As I walked down the grand staircase, the sharp click of my high heels echoed off the marble walls of the empty villa. Just as my hand touched the front doorknob, Buzz’s voice drifted down from the landing, sounding hollow and broken. “Are you really throwing me away?” I did not turn around. “Yes.” I pulled the door open, but his voice stopped me one last time. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” My fingers tightened around the metal handle, a faint tremor running through my hand. After so many years of resentment and cold silence, I had almost forgotten that there was a time when Buzz and I had been genuinely happy. When we first met, Buzz had pursued me with an intense, romantic fervor. He made sure every anniversary was special, and his proposal had been nothing short of spectacular. He had lied to me, saying we were attending a friend’s engagement party. In the middle of the crowded ballroom, he had suddenly gasped, clutching his chest and falling to one knee. “Vivian… my chest hurts.” He had played the part so realistically that I had panicked, throwing aside my purse and rushing to his side, terrified that something was terribly wrong with him. But then, he had pulled a diamond ring from his pocket, looking up at me with eyes full of a warmth that seemed entirely genuine. “Vivian, will you do me the honor of marrying me?” His words tonight were an exact echo of that memory. For a long time, I had been deeply moved by that proposal. I had believed I was stepping into a lifetime of happiness. But through the years, I had come to realize that his elaborate grand gestures were never truly about me. They were designed to reassure Annette, to show her that he was moving on so she could pursue her own life without guilt. Even his refusal to sign the divorce papers now was likely motivated by vanity, a desire to maintain his perfect public image, or perhaps a fear of what Annette would think if she found out his perfect family had crumbled. It was never about loving me. “Nine o’clock tomorrow morning,” I said coldly, stepping out into the night and slamming the heavy oak door behind me. I walked forward, eager to step into my new life.

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1 I was working my usual delivery route when I stumbled upon a young couple having a massive argument in the middle of the street. The girl slammed a bag of expensive cherries onto the asphalt, her finger practically boring a hole into the young man’s nose as she screamed about how useless he was. Right then, a cascade of glowing text started scrolling across my vision like live chat comments on a streaming video. Oh, my poor baby girl! Please don’t be mad at him just because he couldn’t buy you that designer handbag. He’s been hauling bricks at a construction site all day! Just wait until he gets his memories back and returns to his billionaire family! This is the classic bratty-heroine trope. She throws tantrums, and he just spoils her rotten. He only endures her because she saved his life. He’s just dirt-poor right now. Don’t worry, this cheap rental-apartment phase will pass soon. I quietly picked up the cherries that were still intact, brushed them off, and slipped them into a plastic bag. Then, I walked over and handed them to the young man—the billionaire heir in disguise. If he was the kind of male lead who paid back his debts of gratitude with interest, then I definitely needed to get in on this action. Young master, your loyal servant has arrived! 2 Xavier had just been scolded to within an inch of his life by Sasha. He stood there with his head bowed, a dark, gloomy shadow hanging over his eyes, when he suddenly registered my presence. I handed him the bag of salvaged cherries. “Take them,” I said. “Cherries are expensive. Even if she doesn’t want them, you should eat some yourself.” Xavier stared at me for a second before offering a low, raspy, “Thank you.” Sasha, standing off to the side, immediately bristled. “I threw those away! Why are you picking them up? I told you, I don’t want cherries! I want a designer bag!” “You promised me, Xavier! Where is my bag?” Even face-to-face with such unreasonable behavior, Xavier did not lose his temper. He kept his head down, his voice quiet as he tried to explain. “I was supposed to get a bonus, but I missed a few shifts last week. I will save up and buy it for you soon, I promise.” Sasha snatched the bag of cherries from his hands, raising her arm to fling them away again. “Are you blaming me for you missing work? You always have an excuse!” I stepped in, raising my hands to catch the bag before she could throw it. “Actually, I’ve never tasted cherries before. If you two are just going to throw them away, could I have them?” Sasha tossed the bag to me with a haughty sniff. “Whatever. I was going to throw them in the trash anyway. Eat them if you want.” She turned on her heel, preparing to head back to their building. “It’s too hot out here. I’m going back to the AC.” “If you don’t get me that bag by the end of the week, I’m never speaking to you again!” 3 With Sasha’s dramatic exit, Xavier and I were left standing on the sidewalk, staring at each other. Xavier motioned toward the bag in my hands. “Go ahead and take them.” I noticed he was standing around, waiting for his afternoon shift at the nearby construction site to start. The scorching midday sun had already left him looking pale and exhausted. I walked over to a nearby public faucet, thoroughly washed the cherries, and walked back to him. “I can’t just eat your expensive fruit for free,” I said, offering the bag. “Let’s share.” “It’s a waste to let them sit. Besides, you haven’t had lunch yet, have you?” It was the peak of the afternoon heat, the only break the construction workers got all day. Instead of eating, Xavier had spent his entire break buying cherries and arguing with Sasha. “We are both working-class people,” I urged him. “If you don’t eat, you’ll pass out on the job, and then you’ll lose a whole day’s wages.” My practical reasoning finally got through to him. He reached into the bag and began eating the cherries with me. While we ate, my eyes caught his work schedule sticking out of his pocket. I was genuinely shocked by his grueling hours. “You must make a decent amount with all these shifts, right?” Xavier looked slightly embarrassed. “My expenses are high.” “I want to save up for a house and a car. I guess I’m just not working hard enough.” Once the cherries were gone, he wiped his hands and headed back to the construction site. I watched his retreating figure, deeply amused. Not working hard enough? You are a billionaire heir, young master. You have probably never worked this hard in your entire life. But don’t worry. Your loyal future assistant is on her way. 4 After finishing my evening delivery shifts, I set out to find Xavier to build up some goodwill. Thanks to the scrolling comments in my vision, I could easily pinpoint his exact location. The text was constantly debating and analyzing his life, sometimes scrolling so fast it made my eyes hurt. It was late at night, and I had already finished my workday. I saw Xavier preparing to head back into the construction site. “You’re working the night shift too?” I asked, genuinely shocked. Since the cherry incident, we had established a casual, friendly report. “They pay a little extra to have someone watch the site at night,” Xavier explained. “I can organize the bricks while I’m here. I need to make whatever I can.” I let out a soft sigh. This kind of off-the-books night watch was technically a labor violation, but the site manager and Xavier had a silent agreement. “You should stop hauling bricks at night,” I told him gently. “The pay might be decent, but it’s incredibly dangerous to work in the dark when you’re already exhausted.” “I know a recycling scrap yard nearby that is looking for a night watchman. The pay is definitely better than what you’re making here.” I had been eyeing that job myself for a long time. But it was a strict overnight shift, which did not fit my delivery schedule. Xavier, who was already working illegal night shifts, was the perfect candidate. Xavier hesitated. “I don’t have an ID.” I blinked. In this day and age, how could someone be a legal ghost? Immediately, a flurry of comments scrolled across my eyes. Oh, the heroine lied to him! She told him he has a criminal record so he’d be too terrified to go to the police station for a new ID. In reality, his wealthy family isn’t stupid. The moment he registers for a new ID, they’ll track him down instantly. There’s no way they’d let him haul bricks in the dirt. The heroine hasn’t fully secured his heart yet, so she’s terrified of him returning to his family. His amnesia was literally caused by her! She’s pushing him away while keeping him close. This toxic dynamic is so good. So that was the truth. To keep their little romance going, these people really went to extreme lengths. They practically treated their lovers like hostages. “Do you want to get one?” I asked cautiously. “The local precinct is just down the road.” Seeing the sudden flicker of hesitation and fear in Xavier’s eyes, I realized he did not trust me enough yet. I decided not to push. “Well, the manager at the scrap yard is a close friend of mine. He won’t require an ID. I can introduce you.” If the heroine could manipulate him to build affection, so could I. Once he returned to his family, he would surely remember the person who had thrown him a lifeline when he was at his absolute lowest. 5 I successfully got Xavier hired at the scrap yard. He looked slightly embarrassed as he thanked me. “I’m really sorry for putting you to so much trouble.” I waved it off. “Don’t worry about it. You shared those expensive cherries with me, and I’d never had them before.” Xavier murmured, “I hadn’t had them before either.” I fell silent for a moment. He had amnesia, so he genuinely believed he was poor. But I was actually living in poverty. The night was long and quiet. The scrap yard only required attention when clients arrived with deliveries, so Xavier spent most of his time sitting in the small office. He actually initiated a conversation with me. “Have you always made a living as a delivery driver?” I nodded. “I had no choice. I graduated right into a terrible job market, and my family is drowned in debt. I had to do whatever paid immediately.” Xavier said softly, “I don’t remember my past, but I have a feeling my family was deeply in debt too.” If only you knew you were a billionaire heir. Yet, here he was, guarding a heap of scrap metal in a dusty yard after a full day of manual labor. If he didn’t have the broad shoulders, narrow waist, and perfect physical build of a romance novel protagonist, he probably would have collapsed from sheer exhaustion by now. This was undoubtedly the darkest period of his life. But I did not pity him. I was in a pretty miserable state myself. I was only acting as a good Samaritan because I had a clear goal in mind. I reached into the office locker and handed him a clean, folded shirt. “Your shirt has a massive tear in the back. You should change.” Xavier took the shirt, thanking me profusely. I truly could not comprehend the mindset of a man who refused to buy himself a cheap new shirt but was willing to kill himself working night shifts to buy a designer handbag for his girlfriend. Perhaps that was the mysterious power of love. As a broke, practical person, it was entirely beyond my understanding. “I’ll bring you some breakfast in the morning,” I told him. “If anything comes up, just call my number.” “The job is simple. A lot of people bring in scrap metal overnight, so you just need to log their names, the weight of the scrap, and the payout amount.” Xavier nodded seriously, noting down every instruction. “Thank you, Valerie.” Suddenly, the comments in my vision started scrolling frantically. Who is this girl? Is she a romantic rival? No, she’s not even in the original novel! The heroine was supposed to apologize to him at the construction site tonight, but this random girl took him to a scrap yard! The plot is completely derailed! Ugh, I don’t want to see another woman near the male lead. Xavier is gone for the entire night. The heroine is going to throw a massive fit tomorrow! I love seeing powerful men submit to their lovers! How dare this minor NPC interfere with our leads’ relationship? I rolled my eyes mentally. Interfere? I was just trying to survive. I just wanted Xavier to remember my kindness. Once he returned to his penthouse, all I needed was a tiny crumb of his wealth to escape my own financial ruin. 6 Xavier had barely finished his first overnight shift when Sasha tracked him down. My uncle, who managed the scrap yard, called me in a panic, his voice dripping with frustration. “Valerie, where did you find this guy? He hasn’t even finished a single shift, and his family is already here causing a massive scene!” When I rushed over to the scrap yard, Sasha was in the middle of a screaming tantrum. “Are you trying to abandon me? Why didn’t you come home last night?” “Didn’t we agree that you have to be with me every single night?” Xavier had left her a detailed note along with a hot meal before his shift, but Sasha was completely inconsolable. She had finally brought herself to go to the construction site to apologize, only to find him gone. Xavier tried to calm her down. “This is a new job I found. It pays much better than the night watch at the construction site.” Sasha refused to listen. She covered her ears, screaming that she wanted both her designer bag and him at home immediately, behaving as if she wanted to split Xavier into two people. Xavier remained incredibly patient, offering endless explanations without a single hint of anger. Living in that cramped apartment together had clearly fostered a deep, intense affection between them. But I was not there to watch a romantic drama. I had a job to protect. “Miss, this is a place of business,” I said, stepping between them. “Please leave the premises.” Sasha glared at me, her eyes narrowing. “You again! Do you think Xavier is handsome? What is your actual angle here?” I shrugged. “The rules are simple. If you keep disrupting our work, we will have to let him go.” “Why don’t you try asking around this neighborhood? See if any other business is willing to hire a guy with no ID. If he gets caught working illegally elsewhere, he might end up in a holding cell.” Sasha’s expression instantly faltered, a flash of genuine panic crossing her face. Xavier added, “The job is great, Sasha. I can buy you that bag much sooner this way.” Sasha bit her lip, looking uneasy. “Fine, whatever. You can work here.” She pointed a finger at me, her voice sharp. “But I’m warning you, don’t you dare try to steal my boyfriend!” 7 I looked at myself, then back at Sasha. “Are you really that insecure?” I asked, amused. Sasha was undeniably beautiful. Even in a simple pair of denim jeans, she looked like a delicate princess who had accidentally wandered into the real world. But comparing herself to me was completely pointless. Once Xavier recovered his memories and returned to his family, she would have to face a swarm of incredibly wealthy, highly educated heiresses competing for his attention. Sasha sniffed, letting out a dramatic yawn. “I’m exhausted. I’m going back to sleep. If I don’t get enough sleep, my skin is going to ruin.” “And since you weren’t home last night, nobody was there to boil hot water for me. How was I supposed to take a shower? I am so sick of that cheap apartment.” Xavier immediately began apologizing again, a look of profound exhaustion and embarrassment crossing his handsome face. “I’m sorry. Can you try to shower a bit earlier next time? I promise I’ll have the water ready for you before I leave for my shift.” The comments in my vision flared up again. She is so bratty! I love this dynamic! The heroine is so delicate. Since she saved his life and is his only anchor in the world, she has every right to be arrogant. Honestly, the moment he goes to work, we lose all the cute, domestic moments. But it’s still satisfying to see him act like her devoted servant even when he’s exhausted, spending all his money on her. Even though Sasha’s demands were utterly ridiculous, Xavier continued to coax her gently. As long as Sasha kept Xavier hidden away in that tiny apartment, his grueling, miserable routine would continue indefinitely. I felt a sudden wave of disgust at the entire situation. The young man had a life of luxury waiting for him, yet he was being forced to endure manual labor and emotional abuse just to satisfy her selfish desire to keep him to herself. All for the sake of some romantic fantasy, a brilliant young man was being dragged into the dirt. I, too, was being dragged down by my father’s debts, working myself to the bone without a single second of relief. I turned to Sasha, but my words were directed entirely at Xavier. “I saw a flyer on the bulletin board down the street. The Kingsley family is offering a massive reward for their missing son. The sketch on the poster looks exactly like you, Xavier. Do you think it’s possible you’re him?” Sasha’s face instantly went paper-white. Her voice trembled with panic. “What… what are you talking about?” She grabbed Xavier’s hand, dragging him toward the exit. “We are leaving. We’re not working here anymore!” “Let’s go home!”

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I was buried under a mountain of paperwork, completely empty-handed, when I posted a quick message in our team’s Slack channel. I asked if anyone could grab me lunch on their way back, offering to buy them a boba tea in return. The new intern, Tessa, saw the message and volunteered to help. But when she handed me the takeout box, she kept her eyes glued to her freshly done acrylic nails, picking at them idly. “So, I was scrolling through TikTok earlier,” she said, her tone casually drifting. “Starbucks just came out with this new fruit Frappuccino.” “It’s only eight dollars, but I haven’t tried it yet.” My finger hovered over the boba app. My entire lunch, including delivery, hadn’t even run me five dollars. Yet, seeing the eager look on her face, I decided not to make a fuss. I quietly opened the Starbucks app and ordered the drink for her. Tessa beamed instantly, promising she’d always be down to help out in the future. The next morning, I had barely walked through the door and hadn’t even clocked in yet when Tessa marched over and plopped a plastic takeout container right onto my desk. “Morning, June! I grabbed you lunch again today,” she announced. “It’s a chicken teriyaki bowl from the diner downstairs. Only four dollars. And for the delivery fee, same as yesterday, please. I want a Rose Latte from Starbucks.” “Venti, iced, blonde espresso, light ice, no foam. It’s only nine dollars. Thanks!” 1 I blinked, staring down at my phone. It was barely nine in the morning. We didn’t even take lunch until noon. Why was she handing me a hot lunch three hours early? Seeing me silent and staring at my screen, Tessa tapped the plastic lid of the bowl, prompting me. “Did you get all that? Venti Rose Latte. And don’t be cheap like yesterday, ordering a Grande. I barely got a taste of it.” She actually rolled her eyes. A dry laugh escaped my throat. “I didn’t ask you to get me lunch today,” I said. Tessa stiffened, her face instantly flushing red. “Excuse me? Are you seriously power-tripping on an intern right now?” “I already bought the food, and now you’re telling me you don’t want it? Do you have any idea how early I had to drag myself out of bed just to get this for you?” “I don’t care. You have to buy me my coffee. I earned it!” She practically stomped her foot, her voice rising so loud it began drawing looks from across the floor. Before long, a few colleagues wandered over. “What’s going on over here?” “Why the drama so early?” “June, is everything okay?” Valerie, a senior designer who had been with the company as long as I had, looked at me with confusion. Before I could open my mouth, Tessa’s eyes welled with tears. “Valerie, you have to help me,” she sobbed, turning to the crowd. “June asked me to get her lunch, so I did. Now she’s refusing to pay me back!” She sniffled loudly, batting her perfectly curled lashes. To me, it was a blatant performance, but to everyone else, she looked utterly helpless. The office began to whisper. I looked around at the faces of my coworkers. There was no real malice in their eyes, but the underlying assumption was clear: the veteran employee was picking on the defenseless newcomer. Valerie reached over to hand Tessa a tissue. “Hey, don’t cry. June isn’t that kind of person. There has to be a misunderstanding here.” “Look, I’ll just Venmo you the money myself. Let’s not make a scene. It’s going to look terrible if the supervisors see this.” As Valerie pulled out her phone, I quickly caught her wrist. “Don’t worry about it, Valerie,” I muttered, gritting my teeth. “I’ll pay her.” If I let Valerie cover it, the narrative that I was bullying the intern would be set in stone. Trying to clear my name after that would be impossible. I unlocked my phone. A victorious smirk flashed across Tessa’s face before she quickly masked it. “It’s thirteen dollars total. Make sure you get the amount right.” My thumb froze over the screen. The teriyaki bowl was four dollars, and her latte was nine. The coffee cost more than double the food she brought me. But I couldn’t say a word. Not with her tears still fresh. I processed the transfer. My chest felt tight, a heavy knot of frustration burning in my throat. The second the notification popped up on her phone, Tessa’s tears vanished. She offered Valerie a sweet thank-you and skipped back to her desk. Valerie patted my shoulder in silent sympathy before the crowd dispersed. The office returned to its usual hum. I set my bag down and sank into my chair. The cheap plastic container Tessa had brought was sitting right on top of my keyboard, and orange grease was already dripping down the side, seeping into the keys. I stared at the thirteen-dollar lunch for a long, quiet moment. Then, I picked it up, threw it straight into the trash, and booted up my computer. I had barely opened Google Docs when Tessa’s profile picture started flashing on my Slack. “Hey June! :)” She sent an emoji of a dancing cat. “Just so we’re clear, that thirteen dollars was for my trouble this morning. Don’t forget my Venti latte this afternoon!” 2 I stared at the message, completely baffled. I typed back: “Excuse me? On what grounds?” “I already paid you.” Tessa replied almost instantly: “That doesn’t count.” “It’s just a coffee. You’ve been here for years, are you really going to pinch pennies over this?” “Don’t think I don’t know about that three-thousand-dollar bonus you got from the last project. Every other team lead takes their team out when they get a bonus. You’re the only one hoarding it.” “To make up for it, you’re not just buying me coffee this afternoon. You’re buying one for all the interns on our team.” “Otherwise, I’ll post about what happened this morning in the main company Slack channel and let everyone judge you.” “It’s not like you’re the one who decides if we get hired full-time anyway.” Her smug threat glared back at me from the screen. I took a slow breath and did the math. There were five interns in our group. Tessa was the most recent hire, and her evaluation was scheduled for next week, along with the others. Buying five premium Starbucks drinks would run me about forty-five dollars. That was practically my budget for a whole day, or the cost of several days’ worth of cancer medication for my mother. The project Tessa mentioned was one I had managed entirely by myself last year. We finished it in mid-January, but due to administrative delays, the bonus didn’t pay out until this month. It had absolutely nothing to do with the interns. The company had awarded me a three-thousand-dollar bonus. The moment the money hit my account, I used it to pay off my mother’s hospital bills. Then, I tagged everyone in our team group chat: [Hey everyone, I have some urgent family matters to take care of this month, but I promise I’ll treat everyone to a nice dinner as soon as next month’s paycheck comes in.] Tessa had been in that chat. She had replied with a heart emoji and even sent me a private message asking if I needed any help. She wrote, “We’re a team, June. Don’t carry it all on your shoulders.” At the time, I genuinely thought I had hit the jackpot with an incredibly sweet, supportive intern. I never expected her to completely turn on me just ten days later. When I didn’t reply right away, another message popped up. “June? Hello?” “Don’t play dead.” “I can see you’re active on Slack.” I took a deep breath and typed out a brief reply. “Got it.” You want Starbucks, Tessa? Fine. I’ll buy it. But once you drink that coffee, you’re going to have to deal with the consequences. I opened the food delivery app and placed an order for five drinks. My hand didn’t shake when I hit pay. Forty-five dollars was a steep price for a lesson, but it was worth it. It would show me exactly where these interns stood, and whether they were worth mentoring any longer. At one in the afternoon, the delivery arrived. I carried the drink tray over to the cluster of desks where the interns worked. I pulled out a Matcha Frappuccino first. “Becca, I know you love matcha. This one’s for you.” Becca looked up, pushing her glasses up her nose with a warm smile. “Oh, thank you so much, June!” Tessa immediately frowned, pouting. “Actually, Becca, you have it backward. I’m the one who convinced June to buy these. You should really be thanking me.” “Right, June?” Becca offered a tense, awkward smile and quickly looked back down at her monitor. I reached for the next cup and handed it to Owen. “Owen, a flat white for you.” Owen took it with both hands. “Thanks, June.” Tessa made a loud clicking sound with her tongue. Owen’s hands froze on the cup. He quickly cleared his throat and added, “And thanks, Tessa.” Only then did Tessa look satisfied, lifting her chin high. “That’s more like it.” As I handed out the rest of the drinks to the other interns, Tessa trailed right behind me, loudly narrating her “heroic” feat of forcing me to buy everyone coffee. I didn’t say a single word of defense, acting as if she were nothing but background noise. Soon, four of the cups were gone. Only the Venti Rose Latte remained in the bag. Staring hungrily at the oversized cup, Tessa eagerly reached her hand out toward me. “You don’t need to hand this one to me, June. Just let me grab it.” As she reached, I took a step back. And right in front of her face, I pulled the straw out of its wrapper, punctured the lid, and took a slow, deliberate sip. I looked at her with genuine confusion. “I’m sorry. When did I ever say this one was for you?” 3 The smile on Tessa’s face instantly froze. Before she could even begin to unleash her fury, Valerie called out from across the room, waving a hand. “June! The boss wants to see you in his office.” I set the coffee down, completely ignoring the venomous glare Tessa was shooting at me, and walked into the manager’s office. Our boss, Thomas, was on a call and gestured for me to take a seat while he wrapped up. I pulled out my phone, intending to reply to a client’s message. Instead, Becca’s profile icon was flashing on my screen. She had sent three screenshots of an private group chat along with a screen-recorded audio clip. Below them, she wrote: “June, is there some kind of misunderstanding between you and Tessa?” I tapped open the screenshots. Tessa had been venting in an exclusive intern group chat. She claimed she had gone out of her way to be helpful by grabbing me lunch, only for me to refuse to even buy her a simple cup of coffee. She painted me as a toxic veteran abusing my authority, power-tripping over the new hires, and using a Starbucks order to humiliate her. To make it look convincing, she had attached two screenshots of her payment history. One was from yesterday for a four-dollar lunch. The other was from this morning for a four-dollar teriyaki bowl. She had also recorded a voice note from the restroom, her voice trembling with theatrical sobs: “I know we’re just interns and we’re supposed to listen to the team lead, but are we not even human to her?” “Why does she get to push us around like this?” “She’s exploiting me today, but tomorrow it’ll be one of you. None of us are safe from her!” She sounded utterly heartbroken, masterfully spinning a narrative of toxic workplace bullying. In the screenshots, Becca had tried to defend me: “I don’t think June is that kind of person…” “That’s just because she plays nice!” Tessa fired back. “If she’s so great, why didn’t she buy us dinner after getting that huge bonus? I asked around. The manager of Team Three took his entire team out for a premium seafood buffet last week.” After that, the chat had gone completely dead. Becca sent another text directly to me: “June, do you want to explain things to the group?” I didn’t reply. She followed up with: “To be honest, it’s not really about the free food. It’s just that every other team lead does it…” “Tessa kind of has a point.” A point? A cold, bitter smile crept onto my face. My chest felt hollow. I had mentored five interns in total. Owen was the first to arrive back in March. Mid-way through, he had to take a two-month leave of absence to prepare for his graduation thesis defense. HR had approached me then, stating that internship slots were highly competitive and there was a massive waitlist of eager candidates. They advised me to let him go. It was me who argued that the job market was brutal for new grads. I was the one who treated the HR manager to lunch and begged them to keep Owen on. That was the only reason he still had a job here. Then there was Becca. She had come in with zero experience. In the beginning, she struggled constantly to keep pace, frequently staying in the office until eleven or twelve at night. A few times, the pressure got so bad she ended up crying quietly at her desk while working late. When I noticed, I immediately reorganized her workload. I took her under my wing, teaching her the ropes step-by-step. For the past two weeks, she hadn’t had to work a single hour of overtime. Aside from not buying them dinner with my own personal bonus, I had gone above and beyond for these interns. And yet, for the sake of a free meal, they were already taking Tessa’s side. I looked down at my phone, ready to type a reply, when Becca sent one final screenshot. One of the other interns had voiced a concern in their group chat: “Look, whatever the case, June is still our team lead. Tessa, if you piss her off this badly, what if she blocks your full-time offer?” The others seemed to snap back to reality, chiming in: “Yeah, we still need to pass our evaluations.” “Tessa, stop stirring the pot. Jobs are so hard to find right now. If this ruins our chances, are you going to take responsibility?” “It took me forever to land this position.” “My parents had to pull so many strings for me to get this gig.” Tessa replied with a smug, dismissive emoji. “What is there to be scared of? I already asked HR. The final hire-on power belongs to Thomas, the big boss. The team leads don’t have a say.” “June is just a glorified shift supervisor. If she wasn’t assigned to train us, nobody would even look her way.” “Honestly, the more I think about it, the angrier I get.” “I’m going to make a scene out of this. I’ll make sure everyone in the company knows how she treated me. Why should I take this lying down?” “When the time comes, just make sure you all back me up.” The screenshots ended there. Becca sent one last text: “June, I know it’s tough on you too. But everyone is really worked up because of what Tessa said.” “Maybe you should just swallow your pride and apologize to her? It’s not like a meal costs that much anyway.” “If this turns into a massive HR issue, it won’t look good on your record either.” I stared at those words, feeling a cold weight sink to the pit of my stomach. Just as I was about to type back, Thomas hung up his call. He turned to me, resting his hands on his desk. “June, the company is restructuring next month. Your team is going to become an independent department.” “I want you to start thinking about the intern evaluations.” “You decide who we keep and who we let go. I won’t interfere.” 4 For a second or two, I just sat there, completely frozen. Then, a smile broke across my face. It wasn’t a polite, professional smile. It was the sudden, sweet release of a suffocating weight that had been pressing down on my chest all day. Thomas saw my expression and let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t feel too pressured, June.” “I’ve watched how hard you work to train these new hires. I know how much effort you put in.” “With this restructure, your team is going to be independent. That means we need people with the right attitude.” His tone grew serious. “If someone’s skills are lacking, we can train them.” “But if their character is rotten, there’s nothing we can do to save them.” I nodded slowly. “And the criteria for the evaluations?” Thomas slid a folder across the desk toward me. “You set them.” “Performance, teamwork, accountability, and integrity.” “You make the final call on who stays. Even if you decide to let every single one of them go, I trust your judgment.” I looked down at the folder, pressing my fingers against the crisp paper. Becca’s screenshots were still sitting open on my phone screen in my lap. Tessa thought I was just a nobody. She thought I had zero power over her career. She thought no one cared. She was about to find out how wrong she was. Kindness does not mean being toothless. I closed the folder with a firm snap. “Understood. Thank you, Thomas.” The moment I stepped out of Thomas’s office, I noticed how unnaturally quiet the floor had become. It was eerie. I looked up and saw a crowd gathered around the breakroom. Tessa was standing right in the center, her eyes red and puffy, clutching a crumpled tissue. Her shoulders trembled with soft, dramatic sobs. “I wasn’t trying to take advantage of anyone,” she sniffled, wiping her nose. “I just… I just feel so humiliated.” “She bought coffee for literally every single person on the team except for me. How is that not targeted?” She paused to dab at her eyes. “And this morning was the same thing.” “I went out of my way to be nice and grab her lunch, but when she transferred the money, she looked so disgusted. I know she got that huge bonus, and maybe she just thinks interns aren’t worth the price of a coffee.” “If I knew she was going to use her position to bully me like this, I would’ve just kept my mouth shut and taken the loss.” She played the victim flawlessly, making me out to be some miserable tyrant power-tripping over a helpless kid. Valerie frowned, still looking skeptical. “Tessa, are you absolutely sure June did this on purpose?” Tessa nodded vigorously, more tears spilling over. “Valerie, why would I make this up?” She turned her tearful gaze to the other interns standing nearby. “Tell them. Isn’t that exactly what happened?” The interns shifted uncomfortably, exchanging tense glances. Owen’s lips parted, but he quickly looked down, failing to find his voice. Another intern stared at the floor. Becca hesitated for a long second, then murmured in a tiny voice, “This afternoon… she did buy drinks for everyone except Tessa.” The moment those words left her mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. The looks my coworkers threw in my direction grew cold and disapproving. “June usually isn’t like this.” “Maybe she’s dealing with too much stress at home lately and just snapped?” “Still, taking it out on an intern is completely out of line.” “The poor girl just started. That’s incredibly harsh.” Hearing the whispers of support, Tessa’s crying grew even louder. She looked up and caught me watching. For a split second, a flash of pure triumph gleamed in her eyes. Her look said it all: See? I can make everyone turn on you in a heartbeat. I stood my ground, making no move to defend myself. Sometimes, simply shouting the truth doesn’t work. You have to let the lie balloon to its absolute limit before popping it with a single, sharp needle. I walked over, wrapping my knuckles against a nearby desk to get their attention. “Since everyone is gathered here, this is perfect.” The crowd turned to look at me. Tessa sniffled loudly, quickly speaking over me. “June, I know you don’t like me. But did you really have to humiliate me like this? I’m just an intern.” I stared at her, my expression blank. “Are you finished?” She choked on her words, momentarily stunned. I lifted the folder in my hand, my voice remarkably calm. “Thomas just finished giving me my briefing.” “I will be personally conducting the evaluations for all the interns’ full-time offers.”

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My online boyfriend got the wrong girl. He handed the bouquet of bluebells meant for me straight to my college roommate. The rumor mill was working overtime. Everyone on campus was whispering about how the hottest guy in the pre-med program was chasing the beautiful star of the dance department. But nobody knew the truth. Bluebell was my screen name. And Noah was the online boyfriend I had never actually met in person. Just that night, we were on a voice call. His deep, raspy groans came through my headphones as he complained about feeling sick. My face burned hot, and I softly told him to drink some water. He let out a low, teasing laugh. “Babe, you already accepted my flowers. Why are you acting so shy now?” That was when it hit me. I hadn’t told him yet that he gave them to the wrong person. Before I could even get the words out, a video call request popped up on my screen. In my panic, my thumb slipped. I accepted it. A pair of gorgeous, slightly red rimmed eyes appeared on the screen. The moment he got a clear look at my face, he froze. A flash of utter confusion crossed his features. Then, the call dropped. A few seconds later, a text lit up my screen. [I’m so sorry. I got the wrong person.] 01 I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. I typed back. [It’s totally fine. We never knew what the other person looked like anyway.] [Fiona is my roommate. It makes sense that you got the wrong dorm info.] He didn’t reply. Leaving me alone with my heart hammering painfully against my ribs. Noah and I had been dating online for exactly a year. I scrolled up through our chat history. It stopped at yesterday. Noah: [Tomorrow is our one year anniversary. I’ve got a little surprise for you.] Bluebell: [Oh wow, what is it?] Noah: [Don’t worry about it.] Noah: [Just wait.] I never expected him to send me flowers. I definitely never expected him to mistake Fiona for me. And I certainly never expected him to suddenly FaceTime me. Staring at the call log that lasted barely three seconds, I groaned and pulled at my hair. I had just gotten out of the shower. My hair was a frizzy bird’s nest, and I was wearing a massively oversized, faded cartoon t-shirt. Did I give him a terrible first impression? Thinking back to those stunning eyes on the screen, I bit my lip. Even his eyes were breathtaking. My phone vibrated with a rapid succession of texts. Noah: [No.] Noah: [I really did get the wrong person.] Noah: [Her name is Fiona, isn’t it?] Noah: [I saw a picture of her a while ago.] Noah: [I asked around for her number, but somehow I was given yours instead.] Noah: [I thought you were her this whole time.] My racing heart just stopped. The messages came through so fast. My eyes read the words before my brain could even process the gravity of them. I sat there in pure shock for a solid ten minutes. Only then did the heavy, suffocating truth sink in. Noah did get the wrong person. But he didn’t mistake Fiona for me. He mistook me for her. From the very beginning, the moment he sent that first friend request, he thought he was talking to the gorgeous Fiona. In a total daze, I scrolled all the way back to the very start of our chat. Noah: [Sent you a request like three times. Finally.] Noah: [Hey, I’m Noah. Pre-med student from the campus next door.] He really had added me multiple times. I was just a freshman back then, fresh out of a dead end town. The first time I saw his request, I thought it was a scam and ignored it. Second time, ignored. Third time, ignored. Until he added a note. [We go to the same school.] That was when I finally accepted. When I found out he actually went to the neighboring university, I asked him what he wanted. He replied: [I saw the photos from the freshman outdoor retreat. You looked amazing dancing around the campfire.] During that retreat, I had been randomly picked to do a talent showcase. I danced. After that, he started texting me all the time. He was effortlessly funny and never made things awkward. I was introverted, terrible at keeping conversations alive, and constantly killed the mood. I thought he would get annoyed and ghost me. Instead, he sent a cute meme of a cat squishing its cheeks. Noah: [So this is just how you are, huh?] Noah: [It’s cute.] It turned out, the entire foundation of us was built on a mistake. The dorm door clicked open. Fiona walked in clutching a beautiful bouquet of bluebells, flanked by our other two roommates. Jenna looked at her with pure envy. “I heard Noah is drop dead gorgeous. You must have gotten a good look at him when he gave you the flowers. Spill it, how hot is he?” Fiona tossed the flowers onto her desk. She grabbed a makeup wipe and shrugged. “You know those guys you only ever see on Instagram or in movies?” “He’s hotter than them.” Jenna let out a high pitched squeal. “Oh my god!” “Fiona, come on, why did he give you flowers? Did he ask you out? Tell me he asked you to be his girlfriend!” Fiona clicked her tongue. “You guys are so nosy.” “Drop it, he didn’t say anything. I was just walking through the campus gates, he shoved the flowers into my arms, and walked away.” Becca clapped her hands together. “Wow, he was probably just too nervous to talk to you.” Laying in my bed, listening to them giggle and gossip. A dense, bitter ache spread through my chest. Even the back of my throat burned. My phone buzzed again. Noah: [I’m really sorry for bothering you all this time.] Noah: [Since she’s your roommate, do you have her number or her socials?] Noah: [Could you send them to me?] 02 I wanted to say no. I wanted to ask him what the hell we were supposed to be then. Did we break up, or are we just pretending the last year never happened? My fingers trembled as I typed out sentence after sentence. And then, letter by letter, I deleted them all. Tears finally spilled hot down my cheeks as I typed a single word. [Okay.] I copied Fiona’s contact card and sent it to him. Logically, I should have asked Fiona for permission first. But it felt like my throat was packed with cotton. I was in too much pain to utter a single syllable. I put my phone on silent, tossed it aside, and buried myself completely under my blankets. Fiona walked out of the bathroom a few minutes later, looking at her screen. “Wait, someone just added me.” Jenna rushed over. “The username is Noah.” “Holy crap, it has to be him!” Fiona looked genuinely confused. “How did he even get my number?” Becca laughed. “Is it really that hard to believe? He probably asked everyone on campus for it.” “Accept it! I bet you anything he’s going to ask you out right now!” Fiona playfully shoved them. “Back off, creeps! Give me some space.” Through the slight gap in my bed curtains, I watched her. She stood there, holding her phone with both hands. The tips of her ears were flushed pink. She was wearing a silk slip dress that perfectly hugged every curve of her body. This was the kind of girl Noah was supposed to fall for. I pictured how I must have looked on that video call just an hour ago. An absolute disaster. Even if Noah hadn’t gotten the wrong girl, there was no way he would ever like someone as plain and messy as me. When I woke up the next morning, I was sick. My head was pounding with a heavy, thick fog. When I tried to sit up, my limbs felt like lead. The dorm was already empty. I wasn’t surprised. I had never really fit in with their little trio. When I was in the room, I might as well have been a piece of furniture. Nobody ever thought to check on me. So naturally, nobody noticed that the girl who usually woke up at the crack of dawn was still in bed past noon. I forced myself up and dragged my body toward the campus clinic. Halfway down the stairs, my legs simply gave out. I tumbled down the concrete steps. The students at the bottom screamed. When it rains, it pours. Not only did I have a raging fever, but I also managed to fracture my leg. Our campus clinic wasn’t equipped for X-rays, so the dean called the neighboring medical university. They hauled me over to their advanced clinic on a stretcher. It was humiliating. I was burning up and half conscious, yet my main concern was still dying of embarrassment. Eventually, the darkness pulled me under. Right before I completely passed out, I could have sworn those eyes from the video screen materialized right in front of me. When I woke up, my throat was completely parched. “Water…” My voice sounded like dry gravel. As soon as I spoke, I clamped my mouth shut. “Haha.” A low, vibrating laugh filled the room. A terrifyingly familiar sound. A sound so familiar it almost triggered a panic attack. I whipped my head to the side and saw a guy sitting right next to my hospital bed. The moment our eyes met, I knew exactly who he was. Noah held a cup of water with a straw, leaning in close. He smirked. “You usually sound so soft and sweet on the phone. Get a little fever and suddenly you sound like a dying duck.” I froze. My brain completely short-circuited. He raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Not thirsty? Or do you need me to physically feed it to you?” I snatched the cup from him. I drained it in seconds. Lowering my head, I mumbled, “Thanks.” A heavy, warm hand gently patted the top of my head. He took the empty cup from my grip. Seeing me staring blankly at the fresh cast on my leg, he sighed. “Are you an idiot? You had a massive fever and you still tried to walk? What do you think cell phones are for?” “Now look at you. Broken leg.” “You’re a dance major. Do you not realize how important your legs are?” His tone was laced with irritation and worry. It was the exact same tone he used to use when I got too busy in the studio and forgot to eat dinner. A pathetic spark of hope flickered in my chest. Was he… still caring about me? I wondered if this was the right moment to ask him where we stood. Just as I gathered every ounce of courage I had, his phone pinged. With one hand, he adjusted the flow of my IV drip, and with the other, he pulled out his phone. It was a voice memo. Fiona’s voice filled the quiet room. “I don’t just hand out dates, you know. If you want me to be your girlfriend, you’re going to have to ask me in person.” “Hiding behind a screen isn’t going to cut it.” 03 “Heh. She’s got an attitude.” A smile played on his lips. He looked up, and his eyes met mine. We both froze. We looked away at the exact same time. The silence that followed was suffocating. Under the blankets, my fingernails were digging so hard into my palms they were practically drawing blood. Noah broke the silence first. “Riley.” He never used to call me by my real name. That single word clarified exactly where we stood. He cleared his throat. “I’m really sorry about the mix up. I know it caused you a lot of trouble.” “It was a terrible mistake, and I hope you aren’t holding it against me.” “Let’s just look at it as making a good friend to talk to.” “Yeah?” A mistake. Terrible. A friend. An entire year of late night talks, inside jokes, and falling in love, summed up in three pathetic words. I kept my eyes glued to the blanket. I nodded once. I didn’t look at him. I didn’t speak. He stood up. “Your IV is done. I’ll drive you back.” I wanted to tell him no. But I looked down at the heavy plaster on my leg. I pictured myself trying to hop back across campus alone. I caved. Noah was strong. He scooped me up effortlessly and carried me to his car. Pressed against his chest, my hands hovered awkwardly. I didn’t know where to hold on, so I ended up tightly gripping the fabric of my own faded shirt. He smelled incredible. It was that crisp citrus scent I had once told him was my absolute favorite. My stupid, traitorous heart hammered against his chest. His voice rumbled right next to my ear. The voice that used to live exclusively in my headphones was right here in the physical world. The only difference was the tone. In my headphones, he was sweet, needy, and deeply affectionate. Now, he was just rattling off medical instructions on how to keep the cast dry. I barely absorbed a word he said. My mind was a complete wreck. He carried me all the way to my dorm room door. He didn’t step inside. But he didn’t leave either. Leaning against the doorframe, I quietly said, “Thank you for the ride.” He pulled out his phone to check the time. “No problem. It was on the way.” My heart sank straight to the bottom of the ocean. I realized he was waiting for Fiona. And I had been foolish enough to think he went out of his way just to make sure I got home safe. I turned around and limped into the room. It took everything in me to climb up into my bed. My hand slipped, and my knuckles slammed hard against the bed frame. The sharp sting brought fresh tears to my eyes. Right then, Fiona’s surprised voice echoed from the hallway. “Noah! What are you doing here?” “Waiting for you.” Noah’s voice was warm, dripping with that familiar smile. “Be my girlfriend? I’ll wait for you every day.” Pure instinct made me slap both hands over my ears. But I still heard her answer. “I’d love that, boyfriend.” The hot pre-med student officially bagged the beautiful dancer. The news blew up across every campus group chat. I took a week off to recover in my dorm. Even though I didn’t step outside, I couldn’t escape the endless updates about Fiona and Noah. Someone posted a picture of Fiona practicing in the studio, with Noah leaning casually against the doorframe, watching her with a soft smile. Another showed Noah dominating a soccer game, while Fiona sat in the bleachers holding his water bottle. There were candids of them holding hands, strolling side by side under the campus oak trees. … These were all the things Noah had promised me. He had told me that as soon as we met in person, the first thing he wanted was to watch me dance. He wanted me to cheer for him at his games. He wanted to hold my hand and walk around campus. I was the one he dated for a year. But she was the one living out our promises. And I was the one left completely broken. I stared at his contact, still pinned to the very top of my messages. The icon that used to pop up with a good morning text every single day. I pressed down on it, hovering over the delete button. I thought about the thousands of messages we shared over the last year. I couldn’t do it. I just unpinned him. Once he was unpinned, his name sank further and further down my inbox. It was only then I realized that the guy who used to tell me goodnight every single evening hadn’t sent me a single word in almost a week. When it was time to get my cast off, I saw Noah at the clinic again. His buddy was giving him a hard time. “Whoa, the guy who’s been MIA for a week playing boyfriend actually showed up to the clinic?” “Did you really come all the way down here just to take a cast off a freshman?” I was sitting in the examination room, separated from them by a thin curtain. I heard Noah’s voice. “Do me a favor. When she gets here, tell her she needs to keep it on for a couple more days.” His friend sounded confused. “Why? You’re the one who put the cast on her, and you literally said she was cleared to take it off today.” “Just drop it,” Noah said flatly. “Make up some excuse. Tell her the bone isn’t fully set yet. Make her wait two days.” “The intercollegiate dance competition is the day after tomorrow, and Fiona is competing.” 04 I wanted to rip the curtain open. But I didn’t have the guts. I listened to his friend refuse. “Hell no, I’m not doing that. You tell her yourself, she’s right in…” “Fine, I’ll tell her.” Noah cut him off and walked right out of the clinic. The curtain slid back. The med student looked at me, his face turning an awful shade of red. Choking back the lump in my throat, I asked quietly, “If you take the cast off today, and I practice for the next two days… will I permanently damage my leg?” He rubbed the back of his neck and pulled up my chart. “Your fracture was just a hairline. Honestly, you’re fine to move on it.” My phone vibrated. Noah, who hadn’t spoken to me in a week, sent two texts back to back. [Hey, I took another look at your X-rays. I highly recommend leaving the cast on for a few more days.] [It’ll ensure everything heals perfectly without complications.] I stared at the screen for a long, long time. Then I pressed his name, and hit ‘Delete Chat’. “Please take the cast off. I’d really appreciate it,” I told the med student. Once I was freed from the plaster, Professor Carter texted me, asking if my leg was okay and if I was still doing the showcase. I typed back. [I’m stepping out, Professor. Please withdraw my name.] When it came to contemporary lyrical dance, I was leagues ahead of Fiona. She had never once beaten my scores. Noah lied straight to my face just to clear the path for her. If he wanted Fiona to take first place that badly, I’d give it to him. I guess I could consider it payment for all the nights he stayed up comforting me over the past year. While Fiona was busy going on dates and rehearsing for her guaranteed win, I was busy expediting my visa. A week ago, before the whole wrong-girl disaster happened, I was nominated for a highly exclusive exchange program in London. At the time, my head was in the clouds. I was dreaming of finally meeting Noah, going on cute campus dates, and living out a romance. I had fully planned on rejecting the offer. Thankfully, Professor Carter had refused to accept my ‘no’ and told me to sleep on it. Three days ago, I officially submitted my acceptance. In one week, I’d be leaving the country for two years. The night of the dance competition, Fiona stole the show. She took home the grand prize. We had a celebratory dinner with the department that night. She walked into the restaurant absolutely glowing, hand-in-hand with Noah. “Just making it official for everyone,” she beamed. “This is my boyfriend, Noah. He wanted to take me out to celebrate. Hope you guys don’t mind him crashing!” The table erupted into cheers and catcalls. I sat quietly in the corner, focused entirely on cracking open a crab leg. Just as I was about to take a bite. Fiona suddenly called my name out in front of everyone. “Hey Riley, haven’t you been dating your online boyfriend for a year now?” “Didn’t you say you guys were finally going to meet up for your anniversary?” “How did that go?” I froze completely. Everyone at the table turned to look at me. “Wait, seriously? People still do the whole online dating thing?” “No way. Riley is so quiet, she’s the last person I’d expect to have a secret internet boyfriend.” Fiona laughed casually. “Oh, it’s true. I didn’t know either at first, but every single night she’d get back to the dorm, put her headphones on, and talk to him until she fell asleep.” “A few months ago, he even ordered a massive snow crab boil to be delivered to our room. She didn’t even know how to use the shell crackers. I had to teach her.” The looks being thrown my way suddenly shifted. Judgment dripped from their eyes. “What kind of internet boyfriend buys expensive seafood? Probably some creepy sugar daddy. Those guys love preying on naive college girls online.” “I mean, Riley grew up in the middle of nowhere, right? Girls from those depressed towns are super easy to manipulate. Flash a little cash and they’ll call you daddy. Hell, they probably did meet up.” “Yeah, if he’s spending that kind of money, she’s definitely already put out.” An indescribable knot exploded in my chest. Anger, humiliation, and a suffocating wave of injustice. When I didn’t say anything, the girl next to me shoved my shoulder. “Come on, Riley, cat got your tongue?” “Is your internet guy some middle-aged creep or a fat basement dweller?” “He’s spent a lot on you, hasn’t he? You guys already slept together?” “Who knew the innocent little wallflower was such a slut behind closed doors.” SMASH. A heavy glass bottle shattered violently against the floor. A strong hand clamped down tight on my wrist. I looked up into Noah’s freezing, furious eyes. “Shut your mouths!”

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