I lied about my age and ended up in an online relationship with a gorgeous guy six years older than me. I never expected him to be such a walking contradiction. In public, he was cold and aloof, but online, he was completely shameless, whispering the dirtiest things. In his most intense moments, he even told me he wanted to be my puppy, completely at my mercy. Eventually, his clinginess got to be too much for me. The day I broke things off, I blocked him on every single platform. Months later, I was crashing at my best friend’s place when I ran into her older brother. Looking at his detached, utterly cynical face, a strange sense of familiarity hit me. As I stared, my best friend’s voice snapped me out of my daze. “Don’t bother drooling over him. My brother hates girls who throw themselves at him.” “Ever since some girl dumped him online, he’s been in a permanent foul mood. He’d probably kick a puppy if it walked past him.” I froze, a sudden chill running down my spine. I couldn’t help but test the waters. “So… your brother’s name wouldn’t happen to be Atlas, would it?” 1 “Shut up! How on earth did you know that?” My best friend, Cici, gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she stared at me in absolute shock. If I had held onto a tiny shred of hope before asking, it was officially dead now. Not only had my anonymous online ex turned out to be my best friend’s brother, but we had crossed paths again six months after a brutal breakup. The odds of this happening had to be lower than winning the lottery. Before I could panic, Cici waved her hand dismissively, already rationalizing it. “Actually, never mind. We basically share a brain. I must have mentioned his name to you at some point.” As she kept ramming on, I stood frozen, my mind racing. The realization that I was currently sharing a roof with Atlas made my heart hammer against my ribs. I couldn’t help but recall our encounter an hour ago. When Cici first brought me to her house, Atlas had just descended the stairs. He was wearing a silk robe, the faint outline of veins tracing up his neck. There was an effortless, aristocratic elegance to him, mixed with a sleepy, dangerous kind of sex appeal. I had stared at him, feeling an inexplicable pull of familiarity. But when Atlas looked at me, he merely offered a cold, polite nod. His dark, aloof eyes swept over me without a single flicker of emotion, treating me as nothing more than his little sister’s random college friend. I never could have connected this incredibly proper, high-society man with the wild, shameless guy I dated online. Online Atlas was a menace. He talked dirty without a shred of hesitation, calling me his baby and his girl every five minutes, his possessiveness practically dripping through the screen. Back then, I was young and completely naive about relationships. He used to fluster me so badly that I’d have to get out of bed in the middle of the night just to splash cold water on my face. I swallowed hard, trying to keep my voice casual. “So, has your brother dated many people before?” Cici let out a soft laugh. “Just one, and it was entirely online. Honestly, I think he fell hard. He was head over heels for her, but the girl dumped him out of nowhere. Cut him off completely.” She sighed, shaking her head. “His temper has been absolutely miserable for the last six months.” She patted my shoulder reassuringly. “If he acts like a jerk while you’re staying here, don’t take it personally. He hates everyone equally these days.” 2 The next morning, Cici’s mother called us down for breakfast. Atlas was already sitting across from me at the dining table. He moved with an effortless, aristocratic grace, using his fork and knife with slow, deliberate precision. Despite my best efforts, I couldn’t stop my eyes from drifting toward him. Almost instantly, as if sensing my gaze, Atlas looked up. Our eyes locked, and he arched an eyebrow in mild amusement. My heart did a violent flip. Even after I hurriedly looked down, I could still feel his dark eyes burning into me, refusing to let me go. “Daisy, sweetheart, try the French toast. It’s my specialty,” Cici’s mother, Mrs. Sheng, said warmly, bringing me back to reality. I had always been good at pleasing adults. With a few sweet compliments, I had Mrs. Sheng beaming and laughing in no time. “Just make yourself at home these next few days. Don’t be shy about anything,” she insisted. “Thank you, Mrs. Sheng,” I smiled. I comforted myself with the thought that even if we were staying under the same roof, there was no way Atlas could connect me to his online ex. My anxiety was probably unnecessary. I just needed to act natural. Gradually, the conversation shifted toward Atlas. From what Mrs. Sheng was saying, she had recently set him up with a girl from another prominent family. But Atlas’s responses remained entirely cold and detached. “Mom, I told you I’m not interested,” he said, his voice smooth but firm. “I’ve only met her twice. I barely even remember what she looks like. What do you expect me to say?” Mrs. Sheng rolled her eyes, putting her fork down with a heavy sigh. “You reject every single girl I introduce to you. I don’t know when that stubborn head of yours is going to wake up. You’re in your mid-twenties, you don’t date, and honestly, sometimes I wonder if there’s something wrong with you.” Cici let out a sudden snort next to me, her shoulders shaking as she tried to suppress her laughter. “Mom, I can guarantee there is absolutely nothing wrong with his preferences,” Cici chimed in, raising three fingers in a mock solemn vow. “He’s just had a rocky road in love. The girl he’s waiting for is just a bit of a flighty wild card, that’s all.” Mrs. Sheng shot her a warning glare. I, on the other hand, wanted nothing more than to bury my face in my plate. I kept completely silent, praying they wouldn’t drag me into it. But of course, fate had other plans. “Daisy.” Atlas’s cool, deep voice sliced through the chatter. I jumped, nearly dropping my fork. It was just a simple pronunciation of my name, but the vibration of his voice sent an involuntary shiver straight down my spine. Before I could process why I was reacting this way, his dark eyes fixed on me, filled with an unreadable, probing intensity. “Why do you look so guilty?” he asked softly. “Did you do something you shouldn’t have?” My brain stalled. My cheeks went pale, and I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Fortunately, Mrs. Sheng stepped in to rescue me. “Don’t be rude, Atlas. Daisy is our guest. Don’t intimidate her.” Cici laughed, completely oblivious to the tension. “Wow, look at that. I only mentioned Daisy’s name once, and you already remembered it.” Amidst the teasing, I kept my head down, missing the way Atlas’s eyes narrowed slightly as he watched me. 3 Cici ended up catching a mild fever after breakfast, so she took some medicine and went upstairs to sleep. I spent the morning doing some practice exams. When I went downstairs to grab a glass of water, I saw Mrs. Sheng putting on her coat, preparing to head out. Out of politeness, I asked where she was going. “It’s that boy of mine,” Mrs. Sheng said, offering a helpless smile. “Atlas left for the office in such a hurry that he forgot his quarterly reports. I need to drop them off at his office. I don’t know what’s gotten into him today. He’s usually never this careless.” My hands moved faster than my brain. Almost instinctively, I grabbed her arm before she could open the door. “Why don’t I go instead, Mrs. Sheng? You should stay and rest.” “Oh, I couldn’t possibly ask you to do that,” she replied, startled. I smiled and shook my head. “It’s really no trouble. Honestly, I’m just looking for an excuse to get some fresh air.” If I had one strong suit, it was knowing how to be a helpful guest. Since my family lived in a different city, Mrs. Sheng had been incredibly generous in letting me stay here. I felt guilty just lounging around without contributing. Unable to argue with my persistence, Mrs. Sheng eventually yielded and sent the office address to my phone. Settling into the back of a cab, I couldn’t resist searching Atlas’s name online. The public profile of him was remarkably consistent: ruthless in business, decisive, and entirely unyielding. It was almost impossible to associate a man like that with online dating. When we first met, I was a senior in high school, dealing with my parents’ sudden divorce. Life was overwhelming, and I turned to online gaming to escape the stress. That was where I met him. I figured an online relationship was harmless. It gave me a quick dose of dopamine to keep me going. But for safety, I lied about my age, claiming I had just graduated from college, and I never used my real name. Unlike most online couples, I never sent photos. Whenever he tried to video call, I declined. The only thing I agreed to was a strict thirty-minute voice call every night. Despite my rigid rules, Atlas spoiled me completely. He constantly tried to send me money and shared every detail of his day, no matter how trivial. Whenever I saw the absurdly large transfers he tried to send, I immediately returned them. I was only looking for emotional support. Since I knew we had no future, I wasn’t about to take his money. But over time, Atlas became incredibly attached. One day, he suddenly demanded we meet in person. At that point, my final exams were only two weeks away. Meeting up was out of the question. After thinking it over for a long night, I sent him a cold message: There’s no point in us meeting. I’m getting bored of this. Let’s end it. Right after hitting send, I blocked and deleted him everywhere, leaving absolutely no trace. I had assumed that after so much time, a man of his stature would have forgotten about a brief digital fling. But from the way Cici talked, it seemed he still carried the scar. 4 This was my first time visiting Atlas’s workplace. As the receptionist guided me toward the private elevator to the top floor, she casually mentioned that he owned the entire building. No wonder he used to throw money around so easily back then. The wealth gap between us was staggering. Ding. The elevator doors slid open, and my eyes locked with Atlas’s. Standing against the bright floor-to-ceiling windows, his sharp features looked exceptionally striking. The sheer authority he exuded caught my breath. He seemed to have just wrapped up a meeting. A group of senior executives, all much older than him, followed behind him, yet none of them could match his presence. He was a natural-born leader. The hallway fell quiet. A few executives glanced between us, their eyes filled with quiet curiosity. “Mr. Sheng, who is this?” one of them asked, his tone laced with subtle intrigue. Atlas’s dark eyes rested on me for a fraction of a second. Then, without a word, he stepped forward, subtly shielding me from their prying gazes. “A friend,” he answered smoothly. I blinked, slightly startled. Why friend? Why not his sister’s classmate? “Mr. Sheng, this lady brought the documents you left behind,” the receptionist explained. Atlas gave a brief nod. “Understood. Take her to my office first.” He pressed the elevator button, clearly still occupied with work. I bit my lip, thinking quickly. I decided to hand the folder straight to the receptionist. “Since the documents are delivered, I’ll head out. Don’t let me disrupt your work.” But as I turned to leave, a firm grip caught my wrist. Atlas held my arm, his voice dropping to a low, quiet register. “Did I say you could leave?” My steps halted. Because of the proximity, the scent of him washed over me, a clean, crisp fragrance of pine and cold winter air. I couldn’t move. The place where his fingers brushed against my skin felt warm and tingling, sending a strange shiver through me. He let out a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “Go wait in my office. I need to talk to you.” 5 I had no idea what Atlas wanted to discuss. As far as he was concerned, our only connection was his sister. His unusual behavior was starting to make me incredibly nervous. By the time his assistant came in to refresh my coffee for the third time, my anxiety had peaked. Just then, the heavy double doors pushed open. Atlas walked in, the coldness in his eyes softening slightly the moment he saw me sitting on the sofa. He walked straight toward me. “Mr. Sheng,” I said, standing up quickly, feeling incredibly out of place. For some reason, a shadow passed over his dark eyes, though it vanished just as quickly. “Sit,” he said softly. “You don’t work for me. You don’t need to call me that.” His office was massive, but being alone with him made the space feel incredibly small. I cleared my throat, testing the waters. “So… is there something you needed me for?” “Do you have your phone on you?” he asked, ignoring my question with an air of quiet authority. I blinked, nodding slowly. “Let’s exchange contact details. I’ll venmo you for your travel expenses.” My jaw nearly dropped. Was a powerful CEO really handling a simple cab fare reimbursement personally? “No, really, that’s not necessary,” I said, shaking my head. “It was just a quick ride. Besides, I’m staying at your place rent-free anyway.” “Those are two different things,” Atlas countered, his gaze fixed on me. He tapped his fingers slowly against his desk. “I don’t like owing people favors.” I opened my mouth to decline again, but a sudden thought made me freeze. Why was he being so incredibly persistent? Could he actually suspect something? As his sister’s college friend, there was absolutely no logical reason for him to demand my contact details. The only explanation was that he had a suspicion. I forced myself to stay calm. There’s no way, I told myself. I left zero clues. How could he possibly suspect me? As I opened my messaging app to display my QR code, I noticed his fingers tremble slightly. It was as if he were holding his breath, desperately hoping for something. But the moment he scanned it, his expression froze. He stared at his screen for what felt like an eternity, even going so far as to scroll through my public posts. Eventually, the tension drained out of his shoulders, and he let out a slow, deflated breath. I quietly exhaled. The only reason I had agreed to let him scan my code so easily was because I had completely abandoned my old social media account after graduation. My current profile looked entirely different from my old one. There was nothing here that could link me to his ex. Still, seeing that his profile picture was still the matching couple’s icon we had chosen together, a dull ache bloomed in my chest. We had been apart for six months, and he hadn’t even bothered to change it. The silence in the office grew heavy and suffocating. Atlas looked up at me, his voice raw. “Is there really nothing you want to tell me?” “No,” I replied, forcing a polite, empty smile as I stood up. “It’s getting late. I should probably get going.” If I stayed any longer, I was going to crack. “Wait,” his voice called out from behind me, sending a sudden shiver down my spine. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “I’ll have my driver take you back.” 6 The amount Atlas sent me for “cab fare” was enough to cover my transportation for an entire month. I ended up keeping it, realizing that arguing over it would only make things awkward, and a sum like that was pocket change to him anyway. Still, every interaction with him left me incredibly wound up. When I had walked out of his office, the eyes of the entire top floor had been glued to me. I had even overheard a few staff members whispering, speculating about my relationship with their notorious boss. That gossip was a cold splash of reality. He was Atlas Sheng. He was used to being respected, pursued, and admired. A man like him would never tolerate being lied to and played. Since I couldn’t handle the consequences of being exposed, my only option was to keep the secret buried forever. By the time I pulled myself out of my thoughts, the car had already entered the private residential estate. For the next two days, Atlas didn’t return home. Mrs. Sheng mentioned he owned several apartments closer to downtown and rarely stayed at the main estate during the busy season. Not having to face him was a massive relief. With Cici fully recovered from her fever, she was practically climbing the walls with cabin fever. “Daisy, it’s Brody’s birthday today,” she said, leaning against my desk. “A bunch of our old high school friends are getting together tonight. Want to come with?” Brody was a mutual friend of ours from high school who ended up going to the same university as us. We ran in the same social circles. Thinking a night out would help clear my head, I agreed. The sun was just beginning to set when we left the estate. We met up with the group outside a restaurant in a trendy downtown plaza. Brody and the others were already waiting by the entrance, laughing and talking. When Brody spotted me, his eyes visibly brightened. “Daisy! I told you guys you didn’t have to bring gifts.” I smiled, handing him a neatly wrapped box. “Not a chance. You got me such an expensive gift for my birthday. If I didn’t return the gesture, I wouldn’t be able to sleep at night.” I had picked out a classic watch for him. Brody took it, a brief, slightly disappointed expression crossing his face before he quickly masked it. “You really never let me do anything nice for you, do you? Always keeping score.” I offered a polite smile, pretending not to understand the underlying meaning in his words. Suddenly, Cici draped an arm over my shoulder, looking between Brody and me with a mischievous grin. “So, Brody, whose gift do you like more? Mine or Daisy’s?” The group burst into quiet, teasing laughter. Brody’s ears flushed deep crimson, and he kept stealing glances at me. Before he could find his voice, Cici gave a knowing nod. “Right, right, I get it. Our Daisy always knows exactly what you like.” I nudged Cici in the ribs with my elbow, dragging her toward the entrance while keeping my voice down. “You know I don’t feel that way about Brody. Stop teasing like that. What if he takes it seriously?” Seeing how flustered I was, Cici giggled. “Honestly, Brody is cute, and he’s totally devoted to you. Why don’t I like him?” Her question caught me off guard. For a split second, Atlas’s cold, handsome face flashed in my mind, causing me to shake my head violently. “Feelings aren’t a math equation,” I muttered. “If the spark isn’t there, you can’t force it.” Seeing how resistant I was, Cici squeezed my arm. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop playing matchmaker. I promise.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497736”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Audrey and I were known in the legal community as the ultimate courtroom rivals. The internet had tried for years to get us to face off in court. But as top-tier lawyers, we weren’t about to sabotage our own firm’s reputation. Six years of public pleading, six years of disappointment. Everyone said we were a match made in heaven. Same academic pedigree, same undefeated record, even our calculating, step-by-step courtroom style was identical. Until today. I was organizing case files in the mediation room when she walked in with the defendant. In that moment, I realized my fiancée had taken a case against my client. She sat across from me with a faint, almost imperceptible air of arrogance. “Graham, give up. You can’t win this. There’s no need to ruin the reputation you’ve spent years building over a single case.” I looked up at her, slowly putting down my pen. “Who says I’m going to lose?” The defendant sitting next to her, a young man, suddenly reached out and gently tugged her sleeve. I stared at the watch on his wrist, my pupils contracting. Audrey, who had just returned from an international trip last night, had gifted me a pair of cufflinks. They were a complimentary gift that came with that exact luxury watch. 1 During the hearing, I found myself losing focus. Audrey was presenting her evidence, her expression grave and professional. Liam sat beside her, idly playing with his watch strap as if he were bored. A burning sensation spread through my chest. I felt a sudden urge to rip off the cufflinks I was wearing. Audrey stood up, placing a document on the table in front of me. “The defense requests a preliminary clarification on the nature of the debt dispute. The plaintiff deliberately concealed her financial liabilities, which constitutes fraud.” Her voice was steady, smoothly transitioning from the mutual intent of the loan to the chain of evidence, from legal precedents to the burden of proof. But none of the evidence she was presenting had been included in our pre-trial discovery exchange. “Objection,” I said, rising to my feet. My voice sounded heavier than I intended. “Opposing counsel failed to exchange this set of evidence prior to the trial as required by civil procedure rules.” Audrey cast a brief glance at me, turning to the judge with absolute composure. “Your Honor, this evidence was only obtained by my team late last night. We had no time to exchange it, and we respectfully request the court’s discretion to admit it.” The judge admitted the evidence. Left with no choice, I requested a recess under the guise of reviewing the new material. As I walked out of the courtroom, Audrey caught up with me. “I told you before, you can’t win this,” she said, stopping a few paces away. Her tone was entirely confident. “A trial isn’t a law school exam. You don’t win just by memorizing the rules.” As the underlying meaning of her words settled in, I couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh. “So, you win by being deeply familiar with your client’s personal life instead?” Audrey’s face darkened instantly. Just then, Liam sauntered over. The moment Audrey saw him, the coldness in her eyes softened. Liam stopped in front of me, his posture carrying a subtle, defensive stubbornness. “Mr. Barrett, Paige is a fraud. She lied about her finances before we married and forced me to bail her out. Are you really going to defend a woman like that?” “As a lawyer, shouldn’t you be fighting for justice? We’re just trying to protect ourselves from being financially exploited. Paige might have paid you an exorbitant fee, but are you really going to watch my life get ruined just for the money?” His voice was soft, making him sound like the victim, yet every word was designed to paint me in the worst light possible. The reporters who had been waiting outside immediately swarmed us, thrusting microphones into my face. “Mr. Barrett, is what Mr. Liam says true? Did your client pay you a fee far above the industry standard? Did you solicit that amount?” 2 “Mr. Barrett, both you and Ms. Pierce have maintained undefeated records since the start of your careers. However, your case volume is significantly lower than hers. Facing off against her directly today, are you under immense pressure?” “We heard you struggled during the opening statements. Is it because you’re taking it easy on your fiancée?” I forced myself to remain calm. In the next second, Audrey stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. “Apologies, but we will not be answering any questions while this case is active. Please excuse us.” She grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the parking garage. To keep the reporters from following, she pushed me into the passenger seat of her car. It was only then that I noticed Liam was already sitting in the front passenger seat. He turned around to look at me, a perfectly calculated look of apology on his face. “Mr. Barrett, there were so many reporters out there that I panicked and jumped in first. I usually sit in the front, I hope you don’t mind?” Before I could speak, Audrey reached over and playfully tapped the back of his head. “Just sit still and behave yourself,” she said softly. He smiled and turned back around, though our eyes occasionally met in the rearview mirror. For the entire drive, the car was filled with Liam’s voice. He pointed out expensive sports cars on the road, excitedly urging Audrey to look. When we passed an exclusive, members-only restaurant, he eagerly listed his favorite dishes from their menu. I had always believed Audrey disliked talkative men. Yet sitting in the back seat, I could clearly see the faint smile on her lips and hear her occasional, quiet laughter. I unlocked my phone and opened our chat history. Our last message was from a week ago. She had texted me saying she was flying out of the country for a business trip. I scrolled up further. The pictures of stray cats I had shared, the sudden rainstorm, the new coffee shop downstairs, she hadn’t replied to any of them, not even with a single punctuation mark. I closed my eyes, feeling incredibly weary. She dropped me off at my building, standing by the door to tell me to get some rest. “Since we’re on opposing sides of this trial, it’s not appropriate for us to live together. I won’t be coming back here for the next few days.” As she turned to leave, I reached out and caught her sleeve, finally asking the question that had been burning in my chest. “You and him… when did it start?” 3 “What?” “You and Liam.” She froze, then let out a soft, dismissive scoff. “Are you seriously throwing wild accusations at me just because you’re losing the case?” When I didn’t respond, she reached out to touch my arm, her face tightening with impatience. “Stop overthinking. There’s nothing going on. He’s just a client.” Before she could finish, her phone buzzed. The name on the screen read: Liam. Her brow furrowed slightly. She instinctively turned her body away from me and answered. Liam’s soft, strained voice came through the speaker. “Audrey, my stomach is acting up again…” Audrey’s fingers tightened around her phone. “Hold on. I’m on my way.” She hung up and turned around immediately, her heels clicking rapidly against the floor as she rushed toward the elevator. She didn’t offer a single word of explanation. This was the man she called a mere client. I closed the door, looked around the empty apartment, and began to pack up, forcing the chaotic thoughts out of my mind. The next morning, I arrived at the firm as usual. The moment I walked into my office, the head of finance was already waiting for me. “Mr. Barrett, the petty cash Ms. Pierce withdrew last month still hasn’t been accounted for. We need to close the books by the end of the week, but I can’t reach her. I was hoping you could…” “How much did she withdraw?” “One hundred thousand dollars.” My gaze darkened. What did she need that much cash for? After dismissing the accountant, I immediately contacted a close friend of mine in banking to pull Audrey’s personal financial records. On the seventeenth of last month, she had transferred one hundred thousand dollars into a personal account belonging to a woman named Martha Jenkins. Before I could even dial Audrey’s number, my assistant knocked on the door, looking frantic. “Boss, we have a problem. A video of you and Ms. Pierce outside the courthouse yesterday went viral. The public reaction is extremely hostile toward you.” I put down my phone and took the tablet he handed me. And they called this a clash of titans? This is a total embarrassment. We waited six years for this? Graham Barrett actually calls himself a top attorney? No wonder he never dared to face Ms. Pierce in court. His undefeated record was clearly just clever marketing. Even my interns have better composure under pressure. He needs to get out of the legal profession. The comments were flooded with demands for the firm to fire me, and our official social media accounts were being hammered with abuse. Suddenly, the office door was pushed open. “Graham, you need to drop Paige’s case,” Audrey said as she walked in. Her eyes fell on the bank statements and transfer receipts spread across my desk, and her face instantly darkened. “Why do you have my financial records?” I leaned back in my chair, my voice entirely calm. “The accounting department couldn’t find you to balance the books, so they brought them to me.” Her jaw tightened. “Don’t you think you owe me an explanation for this money?” I stared at her, and she instinctively avoided my gaze. “I can’t explain it to you right now. Just cover it for me from the firm’s account. It’s a personal matter, it has nothing to do with the case.” “Nothing to do with the case? Then what is it about? And who is Martha Jenkins?” Audrey’s brow furrowed deeply, and she glared at me. “Are you investigating me?” She snatched the approval form off my desk, crumpling the paper in her tight grip. “Deduct the hundred thousand from my year-end dividends. And as for Paige’s case, I’m telling you to drop it. You’ve been handling the administrative side of the firm for years and barely litigate anymore. Don’t push yourself.” I looked down at the empty desk. I remembered our college days, when we were always neck-and-neck at the top of our class, constantly competing, refusing to back down. It was through those fierce academic battles that we had grown to admire each other. When she confessed her feelings to me, I had accepted without a second thought. After graduation, we started this firm together. To allow her to focus entirely on the courtroom, I took over the management, operations, and administrative side of things. She was the face of the firm, while I secured the foundation. It had been a perfect partnership. But as her win rate climbed and her reputation grew, she began to believe the firm’s success was entirely due to her efforts, completely dismissing my contributions behind the scenes. We had argued and gone through cold wars over this. To prove myself, and to reclaim my own voice, I had agreed to represent Paige. I never expected that we would end up standing on opposing sides of the courtroom. I had wanted to have a real talk with her, but now, it seemed entirely pointless. 4 After Audrey left, I poured all my energy into the case. Taking the evidence she had presented in court, I went to meet with Paige. When Paige saw the documents detailing millions of dollars in debt, she froze. “This isn’t mine…” I pointed to the signature on the copies. “Then why is your signature here? You need to understand that if you keep hiding things, we will lose this trial. You won’t just lose everything, you’ll be saddled with a crushing debt.” Paige, who was only twenty-six, panicked. “Were these debts accumulated before your marriage?” I pressed. “Yes… but it was all for Liam,” she whimpered. “He told me his father was a heavy gambler and his mother was bedridden with a terminal illness. When we were dating, his father came to our door demanding money multiple times. I felt so sorry for him that I…” I listened to her explanation, a strange feeling of unease settling in. “Do you have any proof of this?” “I can check the security camera footage at our old apartment…” While Paige went to retrieve the footage, I didn’t sit idle. I had someone pull Liam’s bank statements. His personal accounts were pristine, with no large transfers over the past five years. So, I asked my contact to look into his immediate family members. Half an hour later, I received a detailed transaction history. Starting two years ago, his mother’s account had received a total of nearly half a million dollars in various transfers. And the most recent transaction made me freeze. It was a wire transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from Audrey’s account. I let out a cold laugh. I remembered my mother’s birthday earlier this year. Audrey had gifted her a cheap glass ornament, completely unwrapped. My family’s expressions had been incredibly awkward, and I had to step in to smooth things over. Later, when we were leaving, I had asked her, “Be honest with me, did you forget my mother’s birthday?” Instead of apologizing, she had flared up in anger. “What is that supposed to mean? Are you complaining about my gift?” “You know very well that the firm’s profits only exist because I’m constantly taking cases, yet we split the money fifty-fifty.” “If I recall correctly, you bought your parents a house and a car. Even if you paid for it, a portion of that money belongs to me, doesn’t it?” “Without me securing our reputation out there, you wouldn’t even have that money.” Looking at Audrey as she meticulously kept score of our finances, I had felt a profound sense of exhaustion. She was the one who had claimed she hated administrative work, which was why I had forced myself to step back from litigation to handle operations. I had shouldered every tedious detail so she could shine. I was the one who prepared the outlines, the strategy, and the evidence folders for every single one of her cases. For five years, Liam’s case was the only one she had handled completely on her own, without my assistance. Yet, in her mind, I was merely riding her coattails. The ringing of my phone broke my train of thought. It was Audrey. “Graham, where are you?” I gave her the name of the restaurant I was at. “Stay there. I’m coming to get you. Don’t go anywhere alone.” In less than twenty minutes, her car pulled up to the curb, and she hurried inside. The moment her eyes found me, she let out a visible sigh of relief. She walked over, her heels clicking against the tile. “Don’t go out for the next few days. I saw online that some people are threatening to teach you a lesson. I’ve already had another lawyer take over Paige’s case. Just stay home until the heat dies down.” The panic in her eyes was genuine. And I knew exactly why she was so terrified. Years ago, during a dispute involving a factory layoff, a disgruntled worker had threatened me. He had tried to throw acid at my face, but Audrey had thrown herself in front of me. I had escaped unharmed, but her left arm had been severely burned, leaving a large, permanent scar. Back then, seeing the raw terror and love in her eyes had deeply moved me, filling my chest with an overwhelming warmth. Now, faced with a similar situation, I felt absolutely nothing. My heart was entirely quiet. 5 I gently brushed her hand away, my voice polite but distant. “Thank you for the concern, Ms. Pierce. But as you said, we are opposing counsel on this case. It’s not appropriate for us to meet. I won’t be dropping Paige’s case, and if anyone tries to threaten me, I will handle it myself.” Audrey stared at me, stunned. “What are you trying to prove?” I stood up slowly, looking her in the eyes. “Nothing. I just want to see this through to the end.” She grabbed my arm, her frustration finally boiling over. “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re just trying to prove you can still litigate. You want to beat me to satisfy your own ego. You know you can’t win, so why push it?” I pulled my arm back. “Think what you want, but let me remind you: we are adversaries in court. Please keep your personal emotions out of this case.” A cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Fine. If you’re so intent on ruining your own career, I won’t stop you. Just don’t regret it when you lose!” She slammed the door as she left. I paid the bill and walked out without a word. What I didn’t expect was for Liam to show up at my firm. In the coffee shop downstairs, he sat dressed in a perfectly tailored white shirt, his hair styled flawlessly. “Mr. Barrett, I know you’re keeping a tight grip on this case because you suspect something is going on between Audrey and me. But our relationship is strictly professional. Audrey has never done anything to betray you.” “You shouldn’t try to ruin my life just because of your own insecurities. Please, Mr. Barrett, show some mercy. Let me have my life back…” He stopped, his throat bobbing as if holding back a wave of deep emotion. What I didn’t realize was that he had hidden a camera in the nearby potted plant. That very night, an edited version of our conversation was uploaded online. The public outrage intensified. I was painted as a powerful, arrogant attorney using my position to bully a vulnerable young man. By four in the morning, my phone was ringing incessantly with abusive calls. “Graham Barrett, have you no shame? You couldn’t keep your own fiancée, so you’re taking it out on an innocent kid? And you call yourself a lawyer? You’re a pathetic excuse of a man.” I calmly started a recording on my laptop, set the phone aside, and let it play. This was the twelfth call tonight, and some of them were far viler. I spent the rest of the night organizing the evidence for Paige’s case to the sound of strangers hurling insults at me. By the time the sun came up, my phone had completely run out of battery. Checking the clock, I realized the trial was less than four hours away. I brewed myself a strong cup of black coffee and left to pick up Paige. The crowd outside the courthouse was several times larger than before. I slipped through the back entrance, guiding Paige quickly inside. By chance, we crossed paths with Audrey and Liam, who were entering through the main doors. Audrey paused, offering a cold smirk. “You really are insane. Are you truly willing to throw away your entire career for this?” I didn’t answer. I walked past her, heading straight for the courtroom. Before the session began, the live-stream room was already flooded with hundreds of thousands of viewers. The comment section was moving at a dizzying speed, everyone waiting to watch me fail. The judge took the bench and called the court to order. Audrey was the first to present. Her logic was seamless, her presentation flawless. Every piece of evidence she presented pointed to Paige concealing her pre-marital debts, painting her as a fraudulent spouse. When it was my turn, I presented Paige’s bank records. “First, my client did not conceal any financial liabilities. Every single debt she incurred was done under the direct manipulation of the defendant, Liam.” I handed the files to the bailiff to present to the judge. The live chat erupted. Is this guy out of his mind? This is a court of law, not a creative writing class. Is he seriously trying to claim these debts were gifts? Does he think we’re all idiots? He knows he’s going to lose, so he’s resorted to slander. How pathetic. Once the judge had reviewed the documents, I spoke again. “Furthermore, my team has acquired evidence proving that the defendant committed adultery during the marriage. And his partner was none other than his defense counsel: Audrey Pierce.”

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By the time my biological parents finally found me, I was already twenty eight years old. The fake daughter who had taken my place was living the dream as a high society socialite. Meanwhile, I was sitting in a cheap diner, getting rejected by a mediocre blind date who thought I was getting too old. It was only after I was brought back to the sprawling Sinclair estate that I learned the whole truth. Before I was even born, our families had arranged a marriage for me. But the fake daughter had married him instead. She and the heir to the wealthy Thorne fortune were madly in love. They had beautiful children together. They were the absolute golden couple of our city’s elite circle. When the truth of our switched identities came out, she was utterly consumed by guilt. She cried so hard she could barely breathe. Her husband’s heart broke for her. He pulled her into his arms, swearing in front of everyone that she was the only woman he would ever love. My biological mother rushed over to comfort her, stroking her hair and promising that she would always be her one and only precious baby girl. I stood completely alone in the center of the grand foyer. My fingernails dug so hard into my palms that the pain was blinding. Late that night, my biological mother sat on the edge of my bed and gently urged me to let it go. To make it up to me, she promised to start looking for a suitable husband for me immediately. I stared up at the dazzling, multi million dollar crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. But for some reason, all I could think about was the dusty, flickering little lightbulb in my cramped rental apartment. I looked at her and said quietly. “Mom, I want to go home. Please let me go home.” 01 The discovery of my true identity was a complete accident. Mrs. Sinclair had traveled out to a historic countryside parish in Oakhill for a memorial service. On her way down the mountain, a torrential rainstorm hit. She took shelter under a wooden pavilion, which happened to be the exact spot where I was standing, waiting for the rain to pass. She stared at me in absolute shock for a long time. I stared right back. The reason was obvious. I looked exactly like her. Suspicion took root in her mind instantly. She hired private investigators, and the dark truth was dragged into the light. Oakhill was Mrs. Sinclair’s hometown. Twenty eight years ago, she and her husband had a massive argument, so she drove out to the country to clear her head. She was heavily pregnant at the time. The stress triggered early labor. It was a medical emergency, and she had to be rushed to a tiny, rundown local clinic. That same night, another pregnant woman went into labor at the exact same clinic. The rural hospital was incredibly underfunded and chaotic. There were no private VIP suites. The nurses were overwhelmed and exhausted. Somewhere in the madness of that stormy night, the name tags were accidentally swapped. Two infant girls lived completely different lives because of a piece of paper. Mrs. Sinclair and I took a DNA test. The results were undeniable. We were biological mother and daughter. After twenty eight years, the nurse who made the mistake had already passed away from illness. Mrs. Sinclair had nowhere to direct her grief and fury. All she could do was grip my hands, her eyes brimming with tears. “Harper, come home with mom. I swear I will make everything up to you.” Standing in the cracked pavement of my rundown apartment complex, looking at the fleet of luxury black SUVs idling behind her, I felt entirely numb. Just a month ago, I had been laid off during corporate cuts. I was stressing over how to pay rent. I was being humiliated by blind dates set up by distant relatives. And in the blink of an eye, I was the true heiress of the Sinclair empire. I was lucky in one regard. Even though my life was stolen, the working class couple who raised me were wonderful people. They never knew the truth, and they loved me as their own. But they died in a horrific car crash when I was just fourteen. I packed my meager belongings and followed Mrs. Sinclair back to the estate. I did separate DNA tests with every member of the family. Every single piece of paper confirmed the same thing. I was a Sinclair. Mr. Sinclair sighed heavily, his eyes full of regret. My biological brother, Preston, looked at me with deep pity. But it was the fake daughter, Mona, who stepped forward. She gently took my hands, her voice trembling with perfectly executed sobs. “I am so, so sorry. I stole twenty eight years of your life.” My mind drifted. Her skin was flawless and glowing. She moved with effortless elegance. Her eyes held that pure, untainted innocence of a girl who had never known a single day of struggle or hunger. Looking into her pupils, I saw the reflection of my own face. A face weathered and exhausted by years of grinding poverty. A sudden, crushing wave of humiliation washed over me. I pulled my hands out of her grip. She froze. The tears spilled over her cheeks even faster. My mother instantly threw her arms around Mona, holding her tight. “Oh, Mona, sweetheart, this isn’t your fault. You are completely innocent in this.” My father nodded in agreement. “Your mother is right. It was that careless nurse’s fault. Mona, you are too kind for your own good. Stop blaming yourself.” Preston chimed in, offering her gentle words of comfort. But Mona’s tears just wouldn’t stop falling. My mother’s heart broke seeing her cry. She cupped Mona’s face and cooed softly. “Listen to me. No matter what the blood tests say, you will always be my one and only precious baby girl.” Finally, Mona offered a watery, relieved smile. I stood perfectly still in the center of the room. The awkwardness was suffocating. I suddenly felt like I didn’t belong here. I felt like an intruder. A villain who had walked in and ruined their perfect, happy family. Later that evening, Mona’s husband, Liam, arrived. Liam was one of the most famous young billionaires in the city. Handsome, ruthless, and wealthy. Before his wedding, he constantly topped the city’s most eligible bachelor lists. After his wedding, he was praised by the media as the ultimate devoted husband. His face was completely devoid of warmth as he walked in. He immediately pulled Mona behind him, shielding her from me. His voice was like ice. “I know our grandfathers made a promise on paper decades ago. But the woman I married is Mona. I respect her, I love her, and my family will always be her shield. If you can accept reality and move on, I’ll write you a check big enough to set you up for life. But if you try to cause trouble for my wife, I promise you will regret it.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Mona and escorted her back to their own mansion. My mother took my hand, her expression sympathetic. “Mona and Liam grew up together. You can’t force love, Harper. You just have to let it go.” “I’m not holding onto anything,” I replied quietly. “It’s the modern world. People marry whoever they want.” Who in their right mind would actually care about some verbal contract made before they were born? I had spent my entire life just trying to survive. I genuinely did not have the energy to care about high society drama. My mother looked relieved. She immediately started her campaign to compensate me. She dragged me to country club luncheons, introducing me to her wealthy friends. She took me through the luxury boutiques on Fifth Avenue. She casually swiped her card on a handbag that cost more than I used to make in six months of brutal labor. When she decided my complexion looked too dull, she flew me out to a private clinic in Switzerland for high end aesthetic treatments. She hired a private nutritionist to manage my meals, telling me that a woman’s face was her greatest asset and required elite maintenance. Everything at the Sinclair estate was flawless. It was so perfect that I couldn’t even complain. She was acting exactly like a good, wealthy mother should. And just like any traditional wealthy mother, she decided I was getting too old to be single. She took it upon herself to arrange a high status marriage for me. That night, she sat in my room, excitedly detailing the profile of the man she had picked out. I stared at the blinding crystal chandelier above us, and all I felt was an aching nostalgia for the dim, cheap lighting of my old life. “Mom,” I said softly. “I don’t want to get married. Please, just let me go back to my apartment.” 02 She flat out refused. Her face tightened with sudden anger. “Go back to what apartment? This is your home!” She looked at me, deeply offended. “Harper, your father, your brother, and I are doing everything we can to make this right. Have we treated you badly? Are we not giving you enough?” A lump formed in my throat, choking off my words. Of course they were giving me things. But when I politely asked a maid to boil me a simple bowl of noodles, she smiled to my face. Five minutes later, I heard her whispering in the kitchen. “Does she actually think she’s the lady of the house? Making me cook her noodles like a peasant. A high school dropout playing pretend in a mansion. It’s pathetic. She’s not worth a single hair on Mona’s head.” When my mother ordered my limited edition handbag, the sales associate asked if she wanted the rare crocodile skin version delivered as well. My mother replied without hesitation. “No. I’ve been on the waitlist for that crocodile bag for six months. Save that one specifically for Mona.” When the kitchen staff asked her about my daily supplements. “Ma’am, should we prepare the private reserve Swiss tonics for Miss Harper today?” Her answer was casual. “No, keep the Swiss reserves for Mona. She’s pregnant, her body needs the absolute best. Give Harper the domestic brand. The quality is a bit lower, but it’s fine for her.” Were they treating me badly? They were giving me everything a rich daughter was supposed to have. But they would always, without fail, give the very best to Mona. If I pointed any of this out, I would just sound greedy and ungrateful. I stayed silent for a long time. My mother sighed, looking at me like I was a massive disappointment. “Fine. Just don’t say things like that anymore. It breaks our hearts! The man I arranged for you is Liam’s younger brother. He’s brilliant, self made, and incredibly successful. Marrying him will secure your future forever.” 03 I met Liam’s younger brother, Declan. His business acumen was just as terrifying as his older brother’s. Naturally, he was viewed by everyone as the ultimate, flawless catch. In my past life, men like him existed in a completely different universe. But right now, this man was sitting across from someone he clearly viewed as trash. He despised me. It was written all over his face. His posture was rigid, his expression freezing cold. He didn’t bother with pleasantries. “I already have a woman I care about. The only reason I am agreeing to marry you is to permanently eliminate a headache for her.” I thought about the family dynamics for a second. “The woman you care about… is Mona, isn’t it?” His eyes narrowed dangerously, the temperature in the room dropping. That confirmed it. He leaned back in his chair. “I came here today to set the rules. I will marry you. I can guarantee I won’t sleep around or publicly embarrass you. I will give you the respect and status of being my wife in public. But do not ever expect me to fulfill any actual marital duties. And understand this clearly. My family has already overcompensated you. If you harbor even a shred of malice toward Mona, I will destroy you.” Every word out of his mouth dripped with absolute arrogance. A brilliant, wealthy CEO was willing to sacrifice his own marriage just to ensure his beloved sister in law lived a peaceful, untroubled life. Everyone in this elite circle bent over backward to protect Mona. They would happily throw their own lives away to guarantee her happiness. It was honestly hilarious. He thought he could just dictate his own marriage, and dictate mine along with it. But I already had someone in my heart. A year ago, he jumped into a freezing lake to pull three drowning children to safety. He managed to push them onto the ice, but his own strength gave out. He sank to the bottom of the lake. He was gone. A bitter ache squeezed my chest. I let out a dry, mocking laugh. “Declan, you really paint yourself as some kind of tragic hero. You think you’re making this massive, noble sacrifice. But what makes you think I have to accept whatever scraps you throw at me?” “What makes you think I even want you?” Declan froze, completely caught off guard. I stared him down. “I never planned on getting revenge on anyone. You’re willing to throw your life away for Mona, but I’m not playing your game. I reject your offer. If you really want to clear your conscience and settle debts, do me one favor. Look into your company records. You had an operations manager named Finn. See if he left any personal belongings in his desk before he died. If he did, send them to me.” 04 I made my stance explicitly clear. But Declan clearly didn’t believe me. He thought I was playing hard to get, which only deepened his disgust. I couldn’t care less. I went back to the Sinclair estate. The moment I walked through the doors, loud, cheerful laughter echoed from the living room. Mona had brought her fraternal twins over to visit her parents. The two beautifully dressed toddlers were giggling on my mother’s lap. My mother’s face was bright red with joy. When I walked in, Mona stiffened. But she quickly recovered, putting on a sweet smile and telling the kids to say hello to “Auntie Harper.” Mona gestured to a row of garment bags nearby. “Mom, those couture gowns you sent over are stunning. Your taste is flawless. I wore one to the gala last night, and everyone was asking about it. I know those designers have impossible waitlists.” My mother beamed with pride. “Of course, darling. The harder it is to get, the more my precious girl deserves it. Actually, your Aunt Victoria bought those in Paris. She sent them specifically as a welcome home gift for Harper. But to be honest, Harper doesn’t have the aura to pull them off yet. It would be a waste of good fabric. I knew they would look absolutely perfect on you.” Mona’s smile vanished instantly. The room fell into a dead silence. My mother suddenly realized what she had just confessed out loud. She turned to look at me, panic flashing in her eyes. Mona immediately started stammering apologies. She grabbed her kids and practically fled the house. When Preston came home later, he looked confused. “I just saw Mona pulling out of the driveway. Her eyes were completely red. Did someone say something to her?” He shot me a vicious glare. My mother awkwardly explained the situation with the dresses. Preston’s face relaxed, and he quickly jumped to defend my mother. “You made the right call, Mom. Mona is the only one who can do justice to those pieces. Giving them to Harper wouldn’t honor Aunt Victoria’s gift anyway.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Whatever. I’ll just have my assistant send over some regular seasonal clothes for Harper tonight.” Preston kept his word. A delivery arrived at my door that evening. But the timing was a disaster. At the exact same moment, a courier from the Thorne estate arrived. The courier handed me the pristine garment bags containing Aunt Victoria’s couture gowns. “Mrs. Thorne asked me to return these. She said she has already taken twenty eight years of your life, and she refuses to take a single thing more.” Before I could even reject the bags, the courier bowed and hurried away. I looked up and met Preston’s eyes. They were dark with absolute fury. That night, he completely lost his mind. He grabbed a pair of heavy fabric shears and violently shredded every single dress in the room. The ones he bought, and the ones Mona returned. He cut them all to ribbons. He pointed the scissors at me, his voice dripping with venom. “Do you have to fight her for every single thing?! A few pieces of fabric, and you have to make her feel guilty enough to return them? How can you be so incredibly selfish?!” I watched him throw his tantrum with dead eyes. A thirty year old man acting like a spoiled toddler. It was absurd. “I never asked for them,” I said flatly. “And I never accepted them.” “Stop lying!” he roared. “Mona is sensitive! If you hadn’t sat there looking pathetic and greedy, she never would have sent them back. You truly are just a classless, uneducated street rat!” He slammed the door so hard the walls shook. Downstairs, the maids quietly emerged to sweep up the shredded fabric. I stood alone in the center of my bedroom. I had survived twenty eight years of grinding poverty. I had swallowed hardships a million times worse than a rich boy’s temper tantrum. When my adoptive parents died, I spent countless nights crying in the dark because I couldn’t afford to finish high school. I didn’t have any tears left to cry. But looking down the long, empty hallway toward my parents’ master suite, a sharp needle of pain pierced my chest. Preston’s screaming had echoed through the entire house. They definitely heard him. But neither of them stepped out to stop him. Neither of them came to check on me. I looked out the window at the pale, cold moon. The night felt freezing. 05 The next morning, my mother felt a pang of guilt. She insisted on taking me to the luxury boutiques to buy me a whole new wardrobe. When we walked out of the store, chaos erupted. A sleek sports car suddenly lost control, blowing through a red light and hurtling straight toward a little boy crossing the street. Without a single thought, I dropped my bags, sprinted across the asphalt, tackled the kid, and rolled us both hard into the thick bushes of the median. The boy burst into terrified tears. Thankfully, he didn’t have a single scratch. My back, however, felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer. I knew my spine was covered in massive, deep purple bruises. The panicked parents rushed over, thanking me profusely. I waved them off, wincing as I stood up. When I raised my head, I saw Declan stepping out of a black Bentley parked by the curb. His eyes were incredibly dark, flashing with genuine shock. He slowly walked over to me. His voice was entirely different from our first meeting. “That was incredibly brave.” I didn’t have the patience to deal with him. I turned to walk away, but his hand clamped down on my wrist. He stared at me for a long time. The sunlight hit his back, casting his face in shadow, but his eyes were burning with an intensity I hadn’t seen before. “You’re bleeding.” I looked down. My entire forearm was scraped raw and bleeding heavily. I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. “Mind your own business.” Despite my rejection, Declan showed up at the Sinclair estate that evening. He brought a highly sought after private orthopedic specialist to examine my injuries. My mother was absolutely thrilled. Her attitude toward me immediately softened. She sat on my bed and told me that Aunt Victoria was flying back from Europe next week. Aunt Victoria ran the family’s international branches, and the family was throwing a massive welcome banquet for her. Aunt Victoria was a terrifyingly successful businesswoman. She was actually more brilliant than my father. But my grandparents were old fashioned and believed the empire should be inherited by a male heir, so they left her with a much smaller percentage of shares. Thankfully, she and my father had a strong bond. For decades, the siblings had ruthlessly defended the company together. “Being a career woman is exhausting,” my mother sighed. “Mona used to want to join the board. She even went to London for her MBA. But after one year at the headquarters, she was so drained she quit. She decided focusing on her family and her marriage was better. And your brother… well, he’s the heir, so he has no choice. If he could, he’d probably prefer Mona’s lifestyle too.” I tuned out her voice. What was wrong with being a powerful woman like Aunt Victoria? Every time I saw female executives on the news, I felt a deep, burning admiration. But I also knew reality. Admiration didn’t magically grant you the skills or the power to sit in those boardrooms. I was a high school dropout. The realization hit me like a physical blow, leaving me drowning in shame. 06 The night of Aunt Victoria’s banquet, the entire New York elite showed up. When Aunt Victoria saw me, her sharp eyes immediately softened with tears. She had already been briefed on everything. She took both of my hands in hers and looked at me deeply. “You have survived so much pain.” Just hearing those words, my throat locked up. My eyes burned. She squeezed my hands. “You are incredibly strong.” Out in the main ballroom, Mona and Liam walked arm in arm. They were instantly surrounded by a crowd of admirers, looking like absolute royalty. My parents were busy showing off Mona’s twins to their wealthy friends. No one spared a single glance for me. It felt like I was genetically programmed to be shoved into the dark, invisible corners of every room. But Aunt Victoria saw me. She pulled me aside and talked to me for over an hour. Halfway through the night, my mother finally remembered I existed. She walked over, dragging the twins by the hands, and told me to play with them. She said we needed to bond as a family. I felt absolutely nothing for those kids. I awkwardly patted their heads, made an excuse, and walked out to the pool terrace to get some fresh air. After standing in the cool breeze for a while, I went inside to use the restroom. When I walked back out to the terrace, pure chaos had erupted. The little girl twin had fallen into the deep end of the pool. Fortunately, she was pulled out immediately. Right now, she was shivering and screaming in Mona’s arms. My mother was frantic. “What the hell happened?! Weren’t the maids watching them? How did she fall in?!” The adults’ panicked shouting terrified the little boy twin. He started sobbing uncontrollably. Then, he pointed a trembling finger right at me. “It was Auntie Harper! Auntie Harper pushed her into the water!” Before I could even open my mouth to defend myself, my mother’s hand cracked across my face.

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My system gave me one job: save the brooding male lead. He was a gorgeous wealthy heir, sent abroad young. But a car crash had left him paralyzed, turning him bitter, cynical, and desperately starved for affection. Luckily, I suffered from a severe savior complex. I spent three years giving him unconditional warmth, taking care of him so thoroughly I practically babied him back into the womb. But the moment I showed up with a bouquet to confess my feelings, he threw the flowers straight into the trash. His voice dripped with mockery. “Stop acting. I’ve been able to hear your conversations with your system this entire time.” “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Watching my stunned expression, he let out a cold, sharp laugh. “What? You’re allowed to play me, but I’m not allowed to play you?” I was quiet for a few seconds. Then, I gave him a soft, accepting smile. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” “It doesn’t matter if the mission failed. I’ll just find someone else to romance. Take care of yourself, Henry. Goodbye.” Ignoring his frozen expression, I logged out and left his world. 1 Six months later, I saw Henry again. The system informed me that I had to romance him a second time. He was sitting in his wheelchair, clutching a bottle of hard liquor, smelling like an absolute distillery. His strikingly handsome features were utterly ruined by exhaustion, his eyes bloodshot. Standing in front of him, I couldn’t help but sigh. People who have never been loved don’t know how to love others, and they certainly don’t know how to love themselves. I soaked a towel in warm water and walked over to his side. Taking the bottle from his grip, I gently wiped the grime and alcohol from his face and hands. He opened his eyes, glaring at me with a wild, feral hostility. “I told you all to get the hell…” His voice cut off instantly. He blinked, staring at me as if looking at a ghost. Tears spilled from his beautiful, hollow eyes, chasing each other down his cheeks. In the span of a heartbeat, his silent weeping broke into a violent, sobbing wail. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist, burying his face in my stomach. “I thought you abandoned me,” he choked out between sobs. “Why did you come back?” I hesitated for a mere two seconds before his voice spiked, cracking with a desperate, ragged edge. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Paige, what is this supposed to mean?” “Talk to me! Say something! Please, say something!” He was completely wasted. If he were sober, his stubborn pride and tangled ego would never have allowed him to show me this kind of vulnerability. But there was no point trying to reason with a drunk. I reached out and stroked his hair, using the same endless patience I had shown him a thousand times before. “I didn’t abandon you.” “Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” His body stiffened. Then, he clung to me even tighter, crying like a child. In my mind, the system whispered, Host, I know I usually call you a bleeding heart, but this is next-level martyrdom. He wasted three whole years of our lives. Have you already forgotten the horrible things he said to you last time? I kept running my fingers through Henry’s hair, replying to the system in my head. “I haven’t forgotten. But does it really matter?” “Once the mission is done, we won’t ever see each other again. Why waste energy holding a grudge against a temporary passenger in my life?” The system went quiet. I helped Henry into bed and cleaned up his messy bedroom. Only when I was finished did the system speak up again. Host, I honestly can’t tell if you’re a saint or just completely cold-blooded. This second run has two objectives. You need to max out both his affection meter and his regret meter. That means you don’t just have to make him fall madly in love with you, you also have to make him suffer through agonizing regret. Are you sure you can pull this off? 2 Henry was my first target. He came from a wealthy family, but his parents both had their own secret lovers and never gave him a shred of warmth. Before he could even speak English properly, he was shipped off to boarding school across the ocean. The only people around him were hired nannies, drivers, and bodyguards. Just as he survived a chaotic childhood, a car accident shattered his legs at the age of ten. During our three years together, I poured every ounce of my energy into him. Because he was deeply insecure, I made sure to reply to his messages instantly. Rain or shine, I always showed up right on time. Because he starved for care, I took over his cooking, cleaning, and daily life, constantly monitoring his physical and emotional health. I used to think the fleeting softness in his eyes meant he was being touched by my devotion. But I was wrong. He had known the truth from the very beginning. “Did you really think I loved you? The only difference between you and those gold diggers is that you’re free.” Yet, I didn’t hate him for those wasted years. When we parted last time, my words had been entirely genuine. “It’s okay. If you felt even a single second of happiness over these past three years, then our meeting had meaning.” I could still picture his stunned, pale face from that day. That was why I knew, without a doubt, that this second attempt would succeed. 3 I slept on the sofa in Henry’s living room that night. Even though it was just a couch, it was far more comfortable than most beds, and I managed a solid eight hours of sleep. In my dreams, the system kept rambling about how it had patched the audio bug so Henry could no longer hear our thoughts. It insisted we had to succeed this time. When I opened my eyes, I saw Henry sitting in his wheelchair, his eyes red and swollen, staring down at me blankly. I sat up, greeting him naturally. “Morning. What are you in the mood for? I can whip up some breakfast.” Henry’s voice was freezing. “What are you doing in my house?” I grabbed a bottle of cold water from the fridge to help soothe his puffy eyes. His body tensed when I pressed it to his face, but he didn’t pull away. “My system mentioned you weren’t doing too well. I thought you might need me, so I came back to check on you.” Henry gripped the armrests of his wheelchair, his gaze turning mocking. “Don’t flatter yourself. Me, need you? Who do you think you are?” “Just because you spent three years acting like a desperate lapdog doesn’t mean you’re actually my girlfriend.” My hands paused. I placed the cold bottle on his lap. Without a single word, I turned and walked toward the front door. Behind me, a heavy thud echoed. In his panic to stop me, he had forgotten he couldn’t walk and had tumbled out of his chair. I immediately turned back to help him up. His face was flushed with anger and embarrassment as he snarled, “Get off me! I don’t need your…” The system groaned in my head. Host, you really drew the short straw with this guy. He’s a nightmare. What kind of sweet talk are you going to use to pacify him this time? I hoisted Henry back into his wheelchair and answered the system. “No sweet talk. He told me to get lost, so I’m getting lost.” 4 I stood before Henry, looking down at him with a soft, gentle gaze. “Yesterday you blamed me for leaving you. I thought you really needed me, but I guess that was just the alcohol talking.” “I’m sorry, Henry. I lied to you for three years, and now I’m back here bothering you again.” I gently smoothed out his wrinkled collar, turned around, and walked toward the exit once more. But I had barely taken a step before I felt a heavy tug. Henry had grabbed the hem of my jacket, gripping it so hard the veins on the back of his hand bulged. I turned back, wearing a look of mild confusion. “Is something wrong?” Henry ground his teeth, struggling for a long moment before muttering, “Who said you could leave?” I gently pried his fingers off my jacket. “You did. Didn’t you just tell me to get lost?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, embarrassed red. The silence stretched between us for another thirty seconds before I finally spoke. “If you want me to stay, you have to be honest with me.” “Tell me you missed me, that you need me, and ask me to stay.” Henry’s expression soured even further. To bow his head, to swallow his pride, and to utter such vulnerable words to a liar like me was agonizing for him. But as his eyes fell on my retreating figure, he finally forced the words out. “I… I missed you. And I need you.” “Please stay and keep me company. Are you happy now?” It was a simple plea, but to him, it seemed more humiliating than begging on his knees. He stared at me with bloodshot eyes, looking as if he would drag us both to the grave if I dared refuse. I held his gaze for a few seconds. Then, I reached out and gently ran my fingers through his hair. Leaning down, I wrapped my arms around him. His body went rigid, but then he greedily tightened his arms around my waist, burying his face in my neck and breathing me in. “I’m glad you told me the truth, Henry.” “You were drunk yesterday, so you probably forgot what I said.” “I told you, I didn’t abandon you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be here.” It was a beautifully crafted, utterly empty promise. Yet hearing it made Henry hold me even tighter. The system suddenly squealed in my head. Host! The progress bar moved! Finally! How is this possible? He knows you’re just playing a game! I gently stroked Henry’s cheek. His eyelashes fluttered as he bit his lip, subconsciously leaning his face into my palm. It was a familiar gesture. The stray dogs I used to feed back home would nuzzle my hand the exact same way. Feeling the warmth against my palm, I took a moment to reply to the system. “Maybe because, outside of me, nobody has ever given him this much affection and security.” “So what if he knows it’s fake?” The system went silent. And Henry, suddenly realizing how pathetic he must look, pulled back and fell silent too. 5 He pushed me away, though he didn’t dare utter another word about making me leave. “Paige, I know you only came back for your mission,” he said, his voice flat. “But since you’re here, you might as well play your part.” He pulled out his phone and quickly typed a message to someone. A moment lator, he looked up at me, his eyes full of deliberate provocation. “My girlfriend is coming over for dinner tonight. Get things ready.” I nodded smoothly. “Of course. Could you ask her what she likes to eat?” Henry was clearly annoyed by my calm reaction. He scowled and muttered, “Whatever.” I didn’t let his dismissive attitude stop me. I drove to the grocery store, bought a variety of fresh ingredients, and spent the afternoon preparing a lavish spread. Around twilight, there was a knock at the door. A beautiful girl stood on the threshold, holding a bouquet of red roses. I offered her a polite nod, hung up my apron, and walked out the door. The weather in this city was always lovely. I found a quiet outdoor café, ordered an iced Americano, and sat on the patio, watching the world go by. The warm afternoon sun gradually dipped below the horizon, and the air grew cool as darkness settled over the streets. My system, which had gone quiet for a while, suddenly chimed in and panicked. Host, what are you doing? Why aren’t you going back to keep an eye on them? They might be making out right now! Men are fickle creatures. If he moves on, we’re screwed! I shook my head. “I don’t think I’m the one who needs to worry.” I pulled out my phone and switched it on. Instantly, a barrage of notifications flooded my screen. They were all from Henry. [Are you seriously gone? You didn’t even bother to say goodbye?] [What is your problem? You’re throwing a tantrum just because my girlfriend came over? Who do you think you are?] [Why aren’t you replying? Stop acting so cold.] [????] [Answer me.] [Pick up the phone.] [I told you to pick up the phone!] […Did you turn your phone off?] The system was dumbfounded. What is wrong with him? “He’s always been like this,” I replied. The system argued, No way! He’s usually the ice king! I slipped my phone back into my pocket. “He only had the luxury of being the ice king because I used to reply to him within seconds.” My iced Americano had melted to room temperature. I finished the last sip and walked back to Henry’s apartment. Even though I expected a scene, I still winced slightly when I opened the door. The place was a disaster. The dining table was overturned, food splattered all over the floor. Every piece of glassware had been shattered to pieces. Henry sat in his wheelchair, his face pale with rage, gripping his phone. His right hand was bleeding heavily from a deep cut caused by a shard of glass. I set my bag down on the console table and walked over to him, frowning. “What happened here?” “I was only gone for a couple of hours. How did you manage to do this to yourself?” 6 Henry looked up at me, his entire frame trembling with rage. “Where…” he spat through clenched teeth, “where the hell did you go? Why was your phone off?” “I was just sitting at a café, having a drink,” I answered honestly. “As for my phone, it must have turned off by accident.” Henry suddenly hurled his phone against the floor, shattering it completely. “Who gave you permission to turn it off? Who said you could ignore my messages?” I let out a soft sigh and leaned down to look him in the eyes. “Why are you so worked up? Are you really that afraid of me ignoring you?” “If you are, you need to say it. I can’t read your mind.” Henry wasn’t stupid. He caught on immediately. He grabbed my arm, his grip tight and angry. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” I ignored his question. “I’ll say it again.” “If you’re afraid of me leaving, of me ignoring you, you have to tell me.” Henry glared at me, his eyes burning with something close to hatred. “Paige… you…” But as the silence stretched between us, his anger slowly dissolved, replaced by a raw, fragile panic. Finally, after nearly three minutes of quiet, his defenses crumbled. “Fine! Yes, I’m terrified of you leaving! I’m terrified of you ignoring me! Are you happy now? Is this what you wanted?” I retrieved the first-aid kit, sat on the sofa beside him, and began to clean and bandage his bleeding hand. Only when I felt his tense muscles start to relax did I speak. “I didn’t ignore you on purpose, Henry.” “But you have a girlfriend now. I have to respect her and keep a proper distance, don’t I?” Henry’s fingers tightened around mine. “No.” I looked at him, feigning confusion. “No what?” “She… she isn’t my girlfriend,” he muttered, looking away. “I paid her to come over just to make you jealous.” Perhaps because he had already thrown away his dignity, confessing this didn’t seem to bother him as much. I let out a gasp of surprise. “You really are something… Since when did you become so childish?” I reached out and softly patted his head. “How about this, Henry? From now on, whenever you text me, just tell me honestly that you miss me.” “If you do, I promise to reply instantly. I won’t make you wait even a second. Deal?” Having endured so many blows to his pride in a single day, Henry didn’t agree immediately. I didn’t press him. I called a cleaning service to sweep up the wreckage of the apartment. Later that night, after Henry had gone to bed, I slipped out of the apartment to take a walk in the courtyard downstairs. The system was buzzing excitedly in my head. Host! I am never calling you a saint again. You are absolutely devious! But the progress bar didn’t move today. Are you tossing and turning because of that? I smiled. “Don’t worry. The progress will come.” If you say so, the system mumbled. About twenty minutes later, my phone vibrated. I pulled it out. It was a message from Henry. [Where are you?] [It’s late. Where did you go?] I stared at the screen, intentionally leaving him on read. A minute later, another text popped up. [I miss you. Please text me back.] 7 I didn’t hesitate. I replied instantly: [I’m just getting some fresh air downstairs, sweetie. I’m on my way back up now.] The system was silent for several seconds before letting out a gasp as the progress bar ticked upward. I headed back upstairs. Henry was sitting anxiously on the edge of the bed. When he saw me walk through the door, his shoulders visibly dropped in relief. I walked over to him and gently cupped his face. “I was just taking a stroll. Don’t be scared.” “I’ll always be by your side.” Henry stared at me for a few seconds. Then, suddenly, he violently slapped my hand away. “Don’t you get sick of hearing yourself talk?” “You act like you’re completely devoted to me, like you actually care. But it’s all for your stupid mission!” “I know exactly what you’re doing. You’re training me like a dog, and you love seeing me like this, don’t you?” He glared at me, but beneath the anger, there was a flicker of desperate hope in his eyes. He was waiting for me to deny it. But as the silence dragged on, that hope slowly curdled into bitter resentment. “Stop looking at me with those fake, pitying eyes!” “Do you really think I’d die without you? Don’t think so highly of yourself!” He turned his back to me, burying himself under the covers. But right at that moment, the system chimed with a sudden sub-mission. Sub-mission triggered: Make the target say “I love you” within 24 hours. Failure will result in an electric shock penalty. Given the timing, I was convinced the main system was doing this purely to torment me.

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When I found out my online boyfriend was actually my stepbrother, I panicked and posted a frantic listing online. Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Is anyone willing to take him off my hands and meet up with him? Urgent, urgent, urgent! Just then, my stepbrother walked up, a teasing, dark smirk playing on his lips. “Didn’t you say you wanted to bury your face in my chest and kiss me raw the second we met? And now you’re just giving me away to someone else?” I trembled violently and bolted. Later, at a family dinner, in a dimly lit corner, my stepbrother slowly unbuttoned his cuffs and backed me against the wall. “Viv, breaking a promise isn’t a good habit. Come here.” 1 I had spent the last three months dating a guy who was six-foot-two, had an insane six-pack, and possessed the absolute sweetest, most nurturing golden-retriever energy. After three months of heavy flirting, he happened to be in my city on business, so we agreed to finally meet up over the weekend. As I rode the train over, even the breeze outside felt sweet. On a whim, I posted a quick update on a social media app to document the moment. Heading to meet my online boyfriend. If it goes well, I’ve hit the jackpot. If it doesn’t, I’m just a clown. Beneath the text, I attached a photo he’d sent of himself wearing an apron. His massive chest practically strained the fabric, throwing his ridiculously broad shoulders into sharp relief. The comments section instantly went wild. That V-taper is insane. You are eating so good, girl! I could never land a guy like this. Do us a favor and scream for the rest of us! Drop the tutorial, sis! I am literally on my knees! Right then, messages from my online boyfriend started flooding my screen. Where are you, Viv? Just thinking about seeing you today has completely ruined my concentration. I can’t even focus on my meetings. My head is entirely filled with you. I’m in my office right now, so nervous and excited. I’m pretty average-looking, though. Are you going to be disappointed when you see me? Maybe I should send you a photo first so you can prepare yourself? I texted back: Of course not, honey. It’s your heart I fell for. Looks don’t matter to me. In three months of dating, we had exchanged voice notes and teased each other with body shots, but we had never actually shared our faces. But honestly, with a physique like that, I would happily take him with my eyes closed. Then, he sent another photo. My jaw hit the floor. A massive man was sitting in an office chair, thighs spread wide, his suit trousers stretched tight enough to show the faint outlines of shirt-stays. His left arm was slightly bent, hand resting on his thigh, veins bulging across the back of his hand and up his forearm where his sleeve was rolled to the elbow. His other elbow rested on his knee, holding a prop gun I had teased him into buying. He gripped the barrel, pointing the stock toward the camera. He leaned forward slightly, his black vest hugging the prominent chest muscles beneath his white shirt. The sheer power radiating from the image was overwhelming. The posture was pure dominance, dripping with raw tension. I felt hot just looking at it. He was teasing me, plain and simple. Since the train was packed, I couldn’t do much, so I quickly typed: Are you going to use that gun stock to tap my backside? He sent a voice note immediately. I scrambled to plug in my earbuds. A smooth, deep voice rumbled in my ears. “One minute you want to bury your face in my chest, and the next you want a spanking. You’re getting greedy, sweetheart.” I typed: Please? Pretty please? He let out a low, breathless chuckle. “We’ll see how well you behave, Viv.” That laugh absolutely destroyed me. I wanted nothing more than to tear through the screen and throw myself at him. 2 Finally, the train pulled into the station. I grabbed my suitcase and practically sprinted out. He had told me he would be waiting near the exit. But the moment I stepped onto the platform near the street, I spotted a painfully familiar figure. Slicked-back hair, a perfectly tailored suit, looking utterly severe and strictly business. It was my incredibly intimidating stepbrother, Gideon. We were from a blended family. My mother had married his father, Robert, when we were younger. Although I called him my brother, we weren’t close at all. First, he was older than me, deeply traditional, and a man of exceptionally few words. By the time I was in school, he was already working at the family firm. We rarely saw each other, and when we did, it was nothing more than polite, brief pleasantries followed by heavy silence. Second, his features took after his father, only sharper and far more imposing. One look from those cold, dark eyes was enough to make my stomach drop. The only upside was that he occasionally acted as an ATM when I was short on cash. In fact, the money for this trip had come straight from his pocket. He had no idea I was traveling to meet an online lover, and I had absolutely no intention of telling him. So, I lowered my head, avoiding his line of sight, and blended into the crowd. He seemed to be waiting for someone, holding a bouquet of fresh flowers. Ooh, a girl, I thought, a mischievous grin tugging at my lips. If his father knew Gideon was dating, he would probably throw a party. I found a quiet corner far away from Gideon and sent a text to my guy. I’m here, babe. My phone rang almost instantly. “I’m right by the main exit,” his deep voice said, a trace of nervous anticipation bleeding through the speaker. “You should see me the moment you walk out.” I scanned the crowd, my brow furrowing. There was absolutely no one around who matched his description. “I don’t see you. I’m right outside the main gates.” The line went quiet for a second before he suggested, “Do you want to FaceTime?” “Sure, let’s do it.” We had to face each other eventually, and with a body like that, there was no way he could be hard on the eyes. As the call connected, I quickly patted down my hair, checked my makeup in the reflection, angled myself toward the best light, and hit accept. It took exactly one second. I slammed my hand over the camera lens. My smile froze instantly. “Viv?” That single word sent a violent shiver down my spine. I turned around slowly, my heart hammering against my ribs. Sure enough, not far away, Gideon was holding his phone up, staring intensely at the screen. “Viv, what’s wrong?” My mind raced as I came to a terrifying, impossible realization. My online boyfriend was Gideon. My online boyfriend was my own stepbrother. 3 It took me several agonizing moments to find my voice. “Um, so… what did you say your name was again?” Gideon’s deep voice drifted through the speaker. “Gideon. I told you before.” Refusing to accept reality, I stammered, “Right, but… how do you spell it? Is it G-I-D-E-O-N?” “Yes, Vivian. Gideon Cross. I’ve never lied to you about that.” I closed my eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. My entire world was collapsing. When we first started talking, we had exchanged names. He had sent me a brief, one-second voice note. I remembered feeling a brief flicker of familiarity back then, but the slight unease had been quickly swept away by the gorgeous fitness photos he posted on his feed. To flirt with him and bridge the gap between us, I had given him my nickname. Viv. It was a name my mother had given me when I was a child, though she rarely used it these days. I had never in a million years imagined that the man on the other end of the line was Gideon. Gideon was always so cold, so distant. My online boyfriend, on the other hand, was incredibly suggestive, clingy, and had an insane physique. Sure, the name Gideon wasn’t incredibly common, but I figured it was just a coincidence. But of all the people in the world, it had to be him. If only I had insisted on seeing his face while I was still on the train. Regret washed over me in suffocating waves. As I stood there utterly paralyzed, Gideon’s voice came through the phone again, sounding uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Viv? Did you change your mind after seeing my face? I told you I wasn’t much to look at. I’m sorry. I should have sent you a photo sooner.” The raw disappointment in his tone made my chest ache. “No, it’s not that. I was just… really surprised. You just look a little intimidating.” Gideon wasn’t unattractive by any means. He had sharp, striking features with a dangerous, dark edge. But those intense, heavy-lidded eyes could look incredibly fierce when he stared at you without expression, often sending a chill straight down your spine. The very first time my mother brought me to the family home, I had burst into tears out of sheer terror just looking at him. Hearing my response, Gideon softened his voice. “I’m sorry, Viv. I was afraid of scaring you off, which is why I waited so long to show you. Most people around me… they’re terrified of me. If you don’t like what you see, I won’t bother you. But could you give me a chance? Let’s just sit down, have a quiet dinner, and then I’ll make sure you get home safely. After that, you can decide whether you want to keep talking to me.” My heart melted a little at his gentleness. But… he was my stepbrother. “I need to use the restroom. Can you wait for me for a minute?” “Of course.” I ended the call, but the panic in my chest didn’t subside. I peered out from behind the corner to steal a glance at him. Gideon was looking down at his phone, his face unreadable, completely lost in thought. A dull ache settled deep in my chest. I had genuinely fallen for my online boyfriend. Why did it have to be Gideon? Ever since my mother married into his family, she had constantly pressured me to please both Gideon and his father. I had done my best to follow her instructions, but the pressure was agonizing. I crouched down, burying my face in my hands. Suddenly, my phone buzzed, reminding me of the post I had made earlier. In just two hours, the update had garnered over ten thousand likes, and the comments were blowing up with people begging for an update. I quietly changed my username to: Holy crap, he’s my stepbrother. Then I drafted a new post: Giving away my online boyfriend for free. He’s clingy and talks constantly. We’ve never met in person. Are there any girls near Riverport Central Station who want to take my place? Urgent, urgent, urgent! I’m sorry, Gideon, but I don’t see any other way out of this. Just as my thumb hovered over the publish button, a deep voice shattered the silence behind me. “Vivian?” I gasped, leaping to my feet. Gideon was standing right there, towering over me, his face carved from ice. “G-Gideon!” My tongue felt like lead as I frantically locked my screen. Gideon studied me, his sharp gaze scanning me from head to toe before he spoke. “What are you doing here?” His voice was cool and distant. Those piercing eyes pinned me to the spot, making it impossible to lie. “I… I came to meet someone I met online…” I swallowed hard, looking at the floor. “I’m sorry, Gideon, I…” The words caught in my throat. My palms were slick with sweat. Gideon adopted his usual authoritative stance. “An online boyfriend? Who is he? What’s his name? How long have you been together?” Every single question made me want to curl up and disappear. I looked away, forcing myself to spin a lie. “We broke up just now. He didn’t think I was good enough for him.” A ghost of a smirk played on Gideon’s lips, sending a shiver down my spine. His light voice drifted down over me. “What a coincidence. I was just dumped, too.” 4 My heart skipped a violent beat. A terrible suspicion crept into my mind that he already knew everything. But Gideon merely stared at me, keeping perfectly silent, his overwhelming presence wrapping around me like a tight coil. I clutched at the hem of my shirt, fighting back tears. “I’m… I’m sorry, Gideon. She must have been blind to let you go. You’re the best brother in the world.” The lie nearly choked me. Gideon didn’t look particularly pleased by the compliment, but he let out a noncommittal grunt and turned on his heel. I let out a silent breath of relief, only for him to stop and look back over his shoulder. “Aren’t you coming? Or are you planning to go search for that online boyfriend who didn’t think you were good enough?” He placed a heavy, deliberate emphasis on those last few words. Before my brain could process the situation, my hands had already grabbed the handle of my suitcase, and my feet were moving to keep pace with him. When we reached his car, I noticed the beautiful bouquet of flowers sitting sadly inside a trash bin. I bit my lower lip and quietly opened the passenger door. Gideon placed my suitcase in the trunk before sliding into the driver’s seat. Once the doors closed, a heavy, tense silence filled the cabin. Desperate for a distraction, I pulled out my phone. Ensuring Gideon was focused on the road, I quickly swiped away from the social media app. My finger accidentally swiped down the notification shade, revealing two unread alerts from our dating app. 12 minutes ago: Your partner has started sharing their location. 7 minutes ago: Your partner has stopped sharing their location. I froze entirely. He had been right there, but he had already turned it off several minutes ago. I was so dazed that I barely registered Gideon speaking to me. It wasn’t until his voice cut through the fog that I blinked. “Vivian.” I snapped out of it, my face pale as I turned to him. His brow furrowed. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s wrong? Still missing that online guy?” I parted my lips but found nothing to say, swallowed by intense awkwardness. I couldn’t tell if he knew the truth. If he did, he shouldn’t be acting this calm. But if he didn’t, why would he say he had been dumped? Perhaps noticing how shaken and miserable I looked, Gideon sighed, his tone softening slightly. “I asked you what you wanted to eat. Let’s get some food, and then I’ll drop you off at a hotel so you can rest. I’ll drive you back home tomorrow.” The gentle cadence of his voice sounded remarkably like my online boyfriend now. If we hadn’t been so distant at home, I probably would have recognized his voice the moment we first spoke. I mumbled, “Whatever you think is best, Gideon. I don’t mind.” “Alright.” He spared me a brief glance before focusing on the road. The silence stretched all the way to the restaurant. My mind was a chaotic mess, and I could barely taste the food. Gideon remained as quiet and aloof as ever. As we neared the end of the meal, he spoke up again. “I don’t have any work left for today. Is there anywhere you’d like to visit?” He had told me online that he had cleared his entire schedule for the next few days just so we could spend uninterrupted time together during our meeting. Guilt and anxiety gnawed at my conscience. I shook my head slowly. Gideon’s expression didn’t change. “Then I’ll take you to your hotel.” “Okay.” 5 When we arrived at the hotel room, Gideon lingered at the doorway. “Stay safe. Call me if you need anything.” He paused, shifting his weight. “You’ve been messaging me on my work profile. It gets cluttered with business inquiries, so it’s not very practical. Let’s exchange personal accounts.” He retrieved his phone and brought up a QR code. Looking at the familiar profile picture, my stomach did a slow flip. I was currently logged into my secret dating profile on my messaging app, and there was no way I could switch accounts right in front of him. I scrambled for a terrible excuse. “Give me a second, Gideon. I really need to use the restroom. I can’t hold it.” I rushed inside, shut the door, and frantically switched back to my primary messaging profile. Over the past two years, my mother’s desire for control had become suffocating. She micromanaged everything from the clothes I wore to the posts I shared and the people I spoke with. Once I started college, she demanded daily updates on my schedule down to the smallest detail. She was obsessed with grooming me into a perfect, flawless, and utterly submissive socialite. The sheer pressure had driven me to create a secret account where I could let off steam and speak my mind. When I first added Gideon on his personal account, he had seen my erratic posts and probably thought I was losing my mind. Honestly, I probably was. Once the account was switched, I stepped back out and scanned his QR code. “There we go. Thanks, Gideon.” He looked as if he wanted to say more, but seeing my eager dismissal, he simply nodded and turned to leave. I watched him walk down the hallway, closed the door, and slumped against it, completely drained of energy. Crawling onto the bed, I reopened the social media app. The draft of my giveaway post was still sitting there. After a moment of hesitation, I deleted it. Since my username change, the post about meeting my online boyfriend had gained even more traction, and the comments were getting wilder. Oh my god, a forbidden stepbrother romance in real life? This is too wild! I demand a daily log of this! I need to know every single detail! Naturally, some accused me of baiting for engagement. People will really invent anything for clout these days. Totally fake. How do you not recognize your own brother’s body? A few users even sent nasty direct messages, accusing me of promoting something sick. Feeling incredibly hurt, I pinned a comment to clarify: We aren’t biologically related. We’re a blended family, and he’s five years older than me. We barely know each other and only see each other once a year during the holidays. I created a secret account to vent because of extreme personal stress, and by some insane stroke of luck, I ended up adding his private profile without realizing it. It’s not what you think. Please stop the hateful comments; I’m incredibly sensitive and this is really stressing me out. Shortly after pinning the comment, an anonymous user with a default avatar messaged me: Don’t cry, sweetheart. It’s not your fault at all. But I have to ask, do you actually have feelings for your online guy, or was he just a distraction for you? Assuming the user was a supportive girl, I replied: I genuinely fell for him. His voice, his look, his sweet personality, everything about him is absolutely perfect. I’m completely head over heels. But he’s my stepbrother. Even if we don’t share any blood, my family would absolutely destroy me if they found out, especially my mother. The moment I pressed send, a text from Gideon flashed across my screen: Open the door. 6 I frantically exited the app, setting my phone to Do Not Disturb to keep any incoming notifications hidden. When I opened the door, Gideon was standing in the hallway, holding the handle of my suitcase. A rare, gentle smile touched his lips. “You left your bag in my car,” he said. I had never seen him smile like that before, and it felt almost surreal. He walked past me into the room, the wheels of the suitcase clicking softly against the floor. I stood there, utterly bewildered. “Gideon?” “Yeah?” His phone was unlocked in his hand, hanging loosely at his side. I couldn’t see the text clearly, but I caught a glimpse of that familiar default avatar on his screen. An epiphany hit me like a physical blow. He knew. He had known the entire time. He had likely stumbled across my post, turned on his location sharing to confirm it, and tracked me down. Every single word he had said since then, every action, had been a deliberate test. And that anonymous user asking if I genuinely liked him? That was him. It made perfect sense why he was standing at my door the exact second I replied. Panic seized me. “Gideon, listen, I can explain…” Gideon sat down on the edge of the bed, watching me with a calm, intensely tender gaze that made my throat close up. “Take your time, Viv,” he said softly. The moment he called me by my nickname, all pretense evaporated. The fragile string keeping my composure together snapped completely. My knees buckled, and I nearly fell to the floor. “I’m so sorry,” I whispered, tears welling in my eyes. Gideon immediately stood up, looking alarmed. “I’m not angry with you, sweetheart. Please don’t be afraid.” He took a step toward me, but my instinct made me flinch back. His hand froze in midair, a look of profound regret crossing his face as he slowly lowered his arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Those fierce eyes were suddenly filled with deep affection and sorrow. “When I first realized you were my online girl, I was completely stunned. I felt anxious, conflicted, and confused. But it took me only five minutes to make peace with it. I love you, Viv. No matter who you are, I love the real, unfiltered version of you that you shared with me.” His absolute certainty left me speechless. “But… I’m your stepsister.” He let out a soft chuckle. “I know. But it doesn’t change how I feel. If anything, it makes me understand why you were always so emotional when we talked, and why you would cling to me and say the wildest things. It just makes me ache for you even more.” His gaze was incredibly tender. “At home, you always walked on eggshells, hiding your true self. I never understood why you were so terrified of me. Every time I tried to reach out or show you kindness, you seemed to interpret it as… a threat?” He sighed deeply. “So, I stopped trying. I figured keeping my distance was the only way to make things easier for you.” I looked away, biting my lip as memories from years ago flooded my mind.

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My brother was only nineteen when he was sent to prison. He stole three pounds of beef from the local butcher shop because our mother had been starving in bed for three days. The butcher insisted on pressing charges and threw my brother to the cops. My mother dragged her sick body to the butcher’s doorstep, dropping to her knees to beg him to drop the case. The owner spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the dirt right next to her. “Stealing is stealing. Three pounds is still a crime.” My brother got a year behind bars. By the time he was released, our mother was already dead. He lost his mind. He was completely, irreversibly broken. Thirty years later, I am the CEO of my own company. One afternoon, a gray-haired old man was brought into my office. His son had embezzled fifty thousand dollars of company funds, and I had handed him straight to the police. The old man’s hands shook violently as he pulled a thick stack of medical records from his pocket. “Boss, I have kidney failure. He is my only son.” “Please, show some mercy. He knows he messed up.” I flipped through the medical files. I saw that painfully familiar name at the top of the page. I slowly raised my eyes. “A crime is a crime. Fifty thousand dollars is still a crime.” 1 “Brian, don’t you think that is a little too cold-blooded?” The office door was violently shoved open. My fiancé and the company’s Vice President, Tristan, marched into the room. His suit jacket was draped over his arm, his brows knitted together in deep disapproval. His leather shoes made no sound against the plush carpet, but his entire aura was aggressively overbearing. “It is only fifty grand. That is pocket change for this company. Do you really need to push a man to the brink of death?” Kneeling on the floor, Gary was shaking uncontrollably. The moment he saw Tristan, his eyes lit up like he had seen a savior. He scrambled across the floor, practically throwing himself at Tristan’s legs, his wails growing even louder. “Please, sir! You have to help me!” “My boy is a good kid! He only did something so stupid because he was trying to pay for my medical bills!” Sobbing, Gary pulled up his faded, yellowed shirt. He exposed a shriveled stomach covered in a dense cluster of needle marks. “Look at this! I have end-stage kidney failure. The dialysis alone costs a fortune every month.” “Derek just could not bear to see his old man suffer! I am the one dragging him down!” Tristan stared at those bruised needle marks. A flash of profound sympathy crossed his eyes. He bent down and gently pulled Gary to his feet. “Please stand up, sir. The floor is cold.” He turned his head, shooting me a blistering, judgmental glare. “Brian! Look at how sick this man is. Do you not have a single shred of empathy left?” “Derek has busted his ass for this company for three years. Even if he made a mistake, he has put in the work.” “He took that money to save his dying father. That is completely justifiable!” I watched their touching little master-and-servant performance. I tapped my index finger against the mahogany desk twice. “Justifiable? If everyone justified stealing like that, how exactly are we supposed to run a business?” “Section three of our corporate handbook is crystal clear. Any embezzlement over ten thousand dollars is immediately handed over to the authorities.” “Tristan, as the Vice President, did you somehow forget the absolute baseline of our company policies?” Tristan’s face darkened. “Rules are rigid. People are alive.” “We are at a critical stage right before our IPO.” “If we send a devoted son to prison over fifty grand when he was just trying to save his dad, how do you think the media will spin it?” “They will brand us as bloodsucking corporate vultures. They will say we drove an old man with kidney failure to his grave!” “Have you even calculated the catastrophic PR nightmare this will cause?” I stared right into Tristan’s self-righteous face. “A corporate image is built on following the law. Not on harboring criminals.” “He stole money from this company. That is a crime.” “Needing medical treatment does not give him a free pass to embezzle.” Gary stood off to the side, wiping his tears. His cloudy eyes secretly sized me up. “Ms. Brian, I know you are a big shot. You don’t need this kind of chump change.” “If you just drop the charges and let my son go, we will sell everything we own to pay you back!” “I will bow down to you!” He made a dramatic motion to drop to his knees again. Tristan grabbed his arm to stop him, whipping his head around to scream at me. “Brian, will you only be satisfied when you force this man into a coffin?!” “I know you are ruthless in the boardroom, but do you have to be this heartless to a dying old man?” The blinds in my office were not fully closed. Out in the bullpen, several employees were craning their necks, whispering and watching the spectacle. Tristan took a deep breath. He seemed to make a decision. He straightened his posture and adjusted his tie. “You are off this case.” “As the Vice President, I have the authority to handle crisis management.” “I will have the legal department drop the charges immediately. We will also issue a five-thousand-dollar donation to Gary as a humanitarian gesture from the company.” I looked at him. A dry laugh bubbled up in my throat. “You want to use my company’s money to buy yourself some good karma?” “What makes you think you can bypass me and issue that order?” Tristan shoved his hands into his pockets. Absolute arrogance dripped from his eyes. “Because I am your fiancé. And I am the second-in-command.” “Brian, women shouldn’t be so aggressively stubborn. You need to know when to back down.” “Listen to me on this. It is the best move for you and the company.” He turned back to Gary, his tone softening into something gentle. “Sir, you go home and get some rest. I personally guarantee Derek’s situation will be sorted out by this afternoon.” Gary trembled with intense excitement. He took two steps back, bowing repeatedly. “Thank you, Mr. Tristan! You are a living saint!” “God bless you!” Right before he walked out the door, he shot me one last look. There was no gratitude in his eyes. Only a smug, victorious provocation. The office door clicked shut. I kept my eyes on Tristan. “Tristan, are you absolutely sure you want to shield a criminal?” Tristan walked up to my desk, looking down at me from his high horse. “I am saving our company’s reputation. And I am teaching you how to be a decent human being.” 2 “Teaching me?” I leaned back in my leather chair, silently studying Tristan. His eyes were swollen with self-important superiority. He genuinely believed he was some compassionate savior descending from the heavens. Tristan ignored my sarcastic question. He turned around, walked over to my desk, and picked up the intercom phone. “Tell Lawson from Legal to come to my office immediately. Bring the corporate seals and draft a formal letter of forgiveness.” He hung up the receiver and looked back at me. “Brian, the decision is made. Stop throwing a tantrum.” “Once Derek is released, I will make him apologize to you in person. Then we can finally put this behind us.” I didn’t say a word. I simply opened my desk drawer and pulled out a sleek black lockbox. I punched in the code and popped the lid. Resting quietly on the velvet lining were the official corporate seals and my personal signature stamp. Tristan’s face dropped. “What are you doing?” I snapped the box shut and rested my hand flat on top of it. “I am making myself perfectly clear. Without my signature and my stamp, Legal cannot issue a single valid document.” “Derek’s case will not be dropped. I am never signing a letter of forgiveness.” Tristan slammed his hand against my desk. “Brian, you are being completely unreasonable!” “Do you have any idea how pathologically cold-blooded you look right now?” “I am starting to wonder if you even have a heart beating in your chest!” He pointed a finger right at my nose, his chest heaving with dramatic rage. “Let me make this clear. If you refuse to back down today, I will call a board meeting and have you removed from your position!” “Be my guest.” I turned to my laptop and pulled up my schedule for the day. “I have a meeting in ten minutes. The door is right behind you. Don’t let it hit you on the way out.” Tristan stormed out in a blind fury, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the glass panes. Silence finally returned to the room. But I knew it was just the quiet before the storm. Sure enough, less than two hours later, the situation spiraled completely out of control. My secretary, Sarah, burst into the office in a total panic. “Brian, it is bad! You need to look at this live stream right now!” I took the tablet from her shaking hands. On the screen, Gary was sitting cross-legged right in the middle of our company’s ground-floor lobby. He was wearing a massive cardboard sign around his neck. The black marker read: HEARTLESS FEMALE CEO DRIVES SICK OLD MAN TO DEATH. Standing right next to him was a young woman holding up a phone on a tripod. It was his daughter, Hailey. “Listen to me, guys! You need to expose this evil corporation!” Hailey cried into the camera, tears streaming down her face. “My dad has kidney failure. He needs dialysis every month. My brother was desperate to save our dad, so he made a stupid mistake and borrowed some money from work.” “We begged them! We promised to sell our house to pay it back! But the CEO, Brian, is demanding my brother be locked up in prison!” “She is trying to destroy our entire family!” Right on cue, Gary clutched his chest and broke into a violent, hacking cough, acting as if he were taking his dying breath. The viewer count in the live stream had already broken one hundred thousand. The chat was moving at warp speed. “What a bloodsucking vampire!” “Fifty grand for a human life? Capitalists have zero conscience!” “Dox her! Bankrupt her company!” “Boycott all their products!” My phone started vibrating violently against the desk. An endless stream of unknown numbers flooded the screen, hurling abusive messages. I just held down the power button and shut it off. The office door was kicked open again. Tristan charged in, completely unhinged. He snatched the tablet from Sarah’s hands and smashed it down onto my desk. The screen shattered instantly. “Look at what you have done!” Tristan pointed at my face, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Our stock just dropped three points in the last ten minutes! Millions of dollars in valuation just vanished into thin air!” “My phone is blowing up with furious investors!” “Is this what your precious principles get us?!” I glanced at the spiderweb cracks on the screen. “They are trespassing and causing a disturbance in our lobby. Why haven’t the security guards thrown them out?” “Throw them out?” Tristan barked out a harsh, manic laugh. “The lobby is swarming with clout-chasing vloggers and cameras right now! You touch them, and see what happens!” “The second a guard lays a finger on that old man, the media will brand us as a violent crime syndicate by tomorrow morning!” He leaned over the desk, glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Brian, as the Vice President of this company, I am ordering you to come downstairs with me right now!” “You are going to apologize to Gary in front of every single camera down there!” “And you are going to sign that letter of forgiveness right on the spot!” I looked up, meeting his frantic gaze head-on. “I didn’t do anything wrong. Why would I apologize?” Tristan froze. He genuinely could not comprehend how I was still standing my ground. “Are you insane?! Do you want to drag this entire company into the grave with you?!” “Brian, I usually let you have your stubborn little moments, but this is a matter of life and death for our business!” He took a massive breath. His tone dropped into a sinister, icy threat. “If you do not go down there and apologize, I will use the board of directors to suspend your authority as CEO.” “And another thing.” He paused, his eyes narrowing into a vicious glare. “If you don’t go down there right now, the wedding is off.” Sarah was backed into the corner of the room, too terrified to even breathe. I stared at the man I had been engaged to for two years. He was using our marriage as a bargaining chip to force me to bow down to a criminal. I stood up and smoothed out the hem of my blazer. “Fine. The wedding is off.” 3 “What did you just say?” Tristan stood frozen in place. The furious color instantly drained from his face. He probably thought my desperation for marriage was my ultimate weakness. He thought dropping the ultimate ultimatum would force me to surrender immediately. “I said, the wedding is off.” I repeated it slowly, keeping my voice perfectly flat. “As for my suspension, feel free to convene the board whenever you want. Assuming you can scrape together a majority vote.” Tristan’s face shifted from green to pale white. His finger trembled as he pointed at me. “Brian, do not regret this! You really think you can keep this empire running without me?!” “You are just bluffing to save face. Let me tell you right now, I am done tolerating your ego!” He spun on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door so hard the walls vibrated. I sank back into my chair and rubbed my throbbing temples. Suddenly, the landline on my desk rang. “Hello, is this the family of Jack?” An urgent, panicked female voice came through the speaker. “This is the West End Psychiatric Facility. Your brother was severely triggered a few minutes ago. He went into a manic episode and smashed his head against the wall.” “He needs stitches right now. You need to get here immediately!” “I am on my way!” I grabbed my car keys, sprinting out of the office. I blew through two red lights and screeched into the hospital parking lot. The second I stepped into the inpatient hallway, a shrill, hysterical voice echoed off the linoleum walls. “Don’t you dare block me! I am going to show everyone exactly how this psychopath beats people up!” “His sister is trying to murder my dad, and he is sitting here faking insanity to assault people!” I shoved my way through the crowd of nurses and patients. At the end of the hall, my brother Jack was pinned down on a bench by two large orderlies. Thick layers of gauze were wrapped around his forehead. Fresh, bright red blood was already seeping through, staining the white fabric. He was violently shaking, mumbling incoherently through chattering teeth. “I won’t steal anymore. I promise I won’t steal again. Please don’t hit my mom…” And right there, shoving her phone aggressively into my bleeding brother’s face, was Hailey. She was practically shouting into the lens. “Look at this, guys! This is the evil CEO’s actual brother!” “He is an absolute lunatic! He just tried to strangle me!” The blood rushed straight to my brain. I lunged forward, snatched the phone right out of Hailey’s grip, and smashed it mercilessly against the concrete floor. The screen exploded into a million shards. Hailey shrieked and jumped back. “What are you doing?! You have no right to break my phone!” She lunged at me like a feral cat, her manicured nails aiming straight for my eyes. I sidestepped her sloppy attack, raised my hand, and slapped her hard across the cheek. The crack echoed sharply down the corridor. Hailey stumbled, completely stunned. She clutched her red cheek, staring at me in pure disbelief. “You hit me. You actually hit me!” She threw herself onto the dirty floor and started thrashing around, kicking her legs. “Murder! The evil boss is trying to murder me!” Heavy, frantic footsteps echoed from the other end of the hall. “Stop it right now!” Tristan sprinted over, breathless. He didn’t even glance at my brother, whose head was still leaking blood. He went straight to Hailey, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her up. “Hailey, are you okay?” Tristan’s voice was dripping with intense, protective concern. There was absolutely no way these two were just strangers or ’employee and family’. Hailey immediately collapsed against Tristan’s chest, sobbing into his shirt. “Tristan, she hit me! She smashed my phone into pieces and slapped me!” “I just came here to check on her brother. How was I supposed to know he was a dangerous psycho who attacks people unprovoked…” Tristan whipped his head around, his eyes burning with disgust. “Brian, have you completely lost your mind?! Why the hell did you break her phone?!” “She is just a naive young girl! Why are you bullying her?!” “Your brother is a certified lunatic. For all we know, he bashed his own head against the wall just to cause a scene!” I watched Tristan instinctively shield Hailey with his body. I looked at his absurd, self-righteous expression, and the absolute last shred of warmth I had for him turned to ice. “She intentionally triggered my brother. Smashing her phone is letting her off easy.” I pointed a rigid finger at Hailey. “She showed up at a psychiatric ward with a live stream, deliberately provoking a severely mentally ill patient.” “Tristan, are you legally blind?” Tristan shoved Hailey further behind him. “Brian, stop spewing venom! Hailey is innocent. She doesn’t understand how these things work!” “You are so consumed by hatred you have become completely unhinged!” He pointed dismissively at my brother. “Look at him. He is a pathetic ghost. All he does is drag you down and cause nightmares for everyone around him!” “Besides, he is literally insane. Who knows if he didn’t just snap and attack her?!” 4 Hailey peeked out from behind Tristan’s broad shoulders, a sickeningly smug smile pulling at the corner of her lips. The elevator doors chimed at the end of the hall. Gary slowly limped out, leaning heavily on a cane, supported by two people. His cloudy eyes locked onto Jack’s blood-soaked bandages. A flash of pure, venomous malice crossed his shriveled face. “Oh my, how on earth did that happen?” He let out a fake, dramatic sigh, hobbling closer to drop his voice into a sinister whisper. “Brian, look at your brother. That is what we call karma.” “You can’t be too ruthless in this life. You push people to the edge, and the heavens will strike you down.” I curled my hands into tight fists, my nails biting deeply into my palms. A nurse walked over holding a clipboard. “Family of Jack? The laceration is very deep. We need to suture it immediately.” “We also need an emergency CT scan to rule out internal bleeding.” “Please go down to the first-floor billing department right now. The total is eight thousand six hundred dollars.” I snatched the invoice from her and pulled out a joint debit card from my wallet. It was a dedicated medical account Tristan and I had set up specifically to cover Jack’s facility bills. I ran downstairs to the billing window and handed the card to the clerk. She swiped it once. Her brow furrowed. “Ma’am, this card has been frozen.” I froze. “That is impossible. There is over a hundred grand in that account.” The clerk slid the card back under the glass. “The system shows the primary account holder reported it lost and froze the assets thirty minutes ago.” The primary account holder was Tristan. I grabbed the card and spun around to face the lobby. Tristan was slowly walking down the grand staircase. He held a thin stack of papers in his right hand. Gary and Hailey were following closely behind him like loyal shadows. Tristan stopped right in front of me and held out the papers. It was the legal letter of forgiveness. “Brian. All you have to do is sign your name right here.” Tristan’s voice was eerily calm. He possessed the sickening confidence of a man who held all the winning cards. “The second you sign, I will make the call to unfreeze the account.” “And your brother can get his life-saving surgery.” I stared dead into his eyes. “You are using my brother’s medical emergency to blackmail me?” Tristan frowned, acting highly offended by my phrasing. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. I am looking out for the big picture here.” “Your brother’s life matters, but Gary’s life matters too.” “Sign the paper. Everyone wins.” Gary leaned heavily on his cane, shuffling forward until his rotting breath hit my ear. “You stupid little bitch. Did you really think becoming a CEO meant you could step on me?” “Thirty years ago, your mother smashed her forehead against the concrete outside my butcher shop, and I still didn’t bat an eye.” “Let’s see if you drop to your knees today.” He pulled his lips back, exposing a row of yellowed, decaying teeth. “If you don’t sign, your brother bleeds out. I have all the time in the world. Let’s see if your brother does.” The memories of thirty years ago violently crashed into my brain. The greasy cobblestones. My mother’s agonizing wails. The thick wad of spit Gary shot onto the dirt. The sheer terror in my brother’s eyes as the police shoved him into the cruiser. It all played out perfectly clear in my mind. I looked at Gary’s twisted face. I looked at Tristan’s arrogant, triumphant smirk. I reached into my pocket, pulled out my phone, and dialed a number.

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1 In my past life, when my sister fled her wedding, Ernie Crawford didn’t flinch. He simply married me instead. Afterward, he was impeccably polite—the perfect gentleman. Then news came: my sister nearly died in childbirth overseas. Ernie locked himself in his study, smoking till dawn. The next day, endless boxes of premium vitamins, supplements, and rich foods arrived. I thought he cared about my future pregnancies. That warmth lasted until I nearly died delivering an oversized baby, forced by all that nutrition. When he heard I’d survived, his eyes were hollow. “She must have suffered so much,” he murmured. Later, my sister complained her baby pulled her hair. That night, Ernie hacked off mine with shears, calling it practical for newborn care. When she sprained her ankle, I fell down stairs, in a cast for three months. When she cut her finger chopping vegetables, he shattered a crystal glass into my palm. News broke: my sister died in a car crash abroad. Ernie dragged me to the city’s highest suspension bridge, plunging us into icy water. His last words: “You were only ever her shadow. If she’s dead, you have no right to breathe.” I woke back in the moment he came to finalize our engagement. Stella had already slipped away. He looked at me coldly. “It’ll have to be you.” A laugh escaped my lips. “Mr. Crawford, I already love someone else. Find your replacement elsewhere.” My words hung in the air. Ernie’s gaze swept over my face like I was completely invisible. He turned slightly and gave my father a stiff nod. “Then it is settled. The engagement gifts will be delivered tomorrow.” My parents were drowning in guilt over Stella’s escape. They nodded eagerly, practically bowing to him. I gripped my phone tight under the table. My fingers were trembling as I typed out a quick message to Roman Blackwood, the undisputed, ruthless king of the Manhattan elite. “Hello. Let us get married.” My heart was lodged in my throat. A second later, the screen lit up. “Done.” “Next Wednesday. It is a perfect day for a wedding.” I stood up and shoved the phone screen right in front of Ernie’s face. “Ernie, I told you I have someone.” He smacked my hand away without even blinking. The phone clattered onto the hardwood floor. He looked at my mother instead and said to make sure the wedding favors were from Maison Blanc. Stella always loved their macarons. My parents chimed in instantly. They said it was a beautiful way to include Stella in the ceremony. My chest heaved. I told them I was not marrying him. Ernie acted completely deaf. He stood up, adjusted his cuffs, and offered a polite nod. “Mr. and Mrs. Astor, I will take my leave.” I raised my voice, calling his full name. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like chipped ice. “My assistant will pick you up tomorrow for your dress fitting. Be on time.” A sickening wave of exhaustion washed over me. He was always exactly like this. He could remember every single reason Stella ever frowned. If her tone over the phone was slightly off, he would drive three hundred miles in the dead of night just to see her. But I was nothing more than a stray dog to him. When he was in a good mood, he might pat my head. When he was upset, I was less than dirt. In his eyes, I had no right to complain, no right to say no, and absolutely no right to exist as my own person. I stared at his retreating back and let my voice drop to a freezing whisper. “Ernie, you do not love me, and I do not love you. There is no need to force this.” His footsteps stopped. He turned around. His brow was heavy with dark annoyance, like he was tolerating a buzzing fly. “Wendy.” His tone was flat. “Playing hard to get is cute once or twice. Anything more than that, and you will drain my patience.” He checked his platinum watch. “Tomorrow. Be on time. Pick a dress in thirty minutes and do not waste my employee’s valuable time.” Our marriage was nothing but an administrative task to him. Something to be handled in thirty minutes. He walked out the door before I could even take a breath. The moment the lock clicked, my father’s face twisted in rage. He screamed at me, asking if I was out of my mind. He demanded to know what garbage I was spouting about having someone else. He said if I ruined this alliance after my sister ran away, the Astor family would be the laughingstock of high society. I stared back at him, my blood boiling. “Stella gets to run away. Why do I have to be the sacrificial lamb?” A sharp crack echoed through the room. The force of my father’s slap threw my head to the side. My cheek burned like fire. He pointed a shaking finger right between my eyes. “Do you really think you are on her level?” “Your sister is brilliant. She knows what she wants. If she wants to leave, I let her leave. But you? What have you ever done besides trail after Ernie like a pathetic puppy?” “He is willing to take you, and you actually have the nerve to put on airs.” My mother sighed heavily from the sofa. “Wendy, throwing a little tantrum is cute, but you need to read the room. No man will put up with a woman who does not know her place.” My father scoffed. He ordered me to go to the fitting tomorrow and apologize to Ernie. I pressed my hand to my stinging cheek and said absolutely nothing. It was a bitter pill to swallow. I was not just Stella’s replacement to Ernie. I was her replacement to my own parents, too. The next day at the bridal boutique, Ernie was a no-show. His executive assistant, Vanessa, escorted me inside while casually picking at her expensive manicure. “Miss Astor, please hurry. Mr. Crawford only authorized thirty minutes for this.” I pointed at the plainest white gown hanging in the corner. “That one. I am in a rush.” Roman was texting me, asking about our venue preferences. Vanessa did not move an inch. “Miss Astor, Mr. Crawford is not here. You can drop the act.” I frowned. She looked at me with a mocking smirk. “You chased him for years. You dreamed of this day. And now you are pretending to be aloof?” “You are just picking a cheap dress on purpose so I will call him, hoping he will feel guilty and rush over here to comfort you.” She laughed out loud. “Your pathetic little tricks are exactly what everyone said they were.” I did not know who “everyone” was, and I did not care. I ignored her, grabbed the heavy silk gown, and walked straight into the fitting room. I had just unzipped my skirt and stepped out of it when the thick velvet curtain was violently ripped open from the outside. My nearly naked body was exposed to the entire boutique floor. “Miss Astor!” Vanessa gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. Her voice was loud enough to echo across the high ceilings. “Why would you throw the curtain open? Do you get off on exposing yourself? Is this how you usually seduce Mr. Crawford?” Dozens of judging eyes snapped toward me, burning into my skin. I snatched the dress up to cover my chest. Without a single second of hesitation, I swung my free hand and slapped her across the face with everything I had. The boutique fell dead silent. Vanessa shrieked. “How dare you hit me?” She whipped out her phone, her voice instantly trembling with fake tears. “Mr. Crawford, I am so sorry. I must have served her poorly. Miss Astor is furious…” Less than ten minutes later, Ernie’s private security detail stormed the floor. Before I could even speak, two massive men grabbed my arms, twisting them behind my back and forcing me to bend forward. A third bodyguard stepped up to Vanessa and bowed his head slightly. He told her Mr. Crawford sent his apologies for her distress. He cast a freezing look at me and muttered that some people needed to learn a lesson. Vanessa wiped her fake tears, a triumphant flush spreading across her cheeks. I was dragged out of the boutique, shoved into the back of a tinted SUV, and driven straight to a remote estate in the hills. They tossed me onto the living room floor like a bag of garbage. My knees slammed into the edge of a marble coffee table. The pain made me gasp for air. Footsteps echoed behind me. Ernie walked in, looking down at me from his towering height. “You are not even my wife yet, and you are already throwing your weight around?” His gaze was completely devoid of warmth. “Let me make something very clear. The women who scrub my floors have more status in my world than you do.” “You better learn to play nice with my staff, or your life after the wedding will be a living hell.” My fingernails dug into my palms. “Your assistant ripped the curtain open while I was changing. She exposed me on purpose.” “Enough.” He cut me off, a flicker of pure disgust crossing his face. “Have you ever considered that you are the problem? When your sister was by my side, my staff never acted like this.” He turned on his heel and barked an order at the guards by the door. “Cut the water and the power. Let her sit in the dark and think about what she has done for three days.” I lunged for the door, but the heavy oak slammed shut right in my face. The deadbolt clicked. Three full days. I grew so thirsty I drank the stale, murky water sitting in a crystal flower vase. I was so starved I ripped the bitter leaves off a decorative potted plant and chewed them until my jaw ached. I lost track of time. Eventually, the electronic keypad on the front door beeped. A tall figure stumbled inside, reeking of expensive scotch. It was Ernie. His glassy eyes locked onto me where I was curled up in the corner of the dark room. He suddenly dropped to his knees and crushed his burning lips against mine. My entire body froze into a block of ice. A second later, his lips brushed against mine as he whispered. “Stella.” That single name felt like a jagged blade twisting into my chest. I shoved him away with the last ounce of strength I had left in my starving body. My voice was trembling. “Look at me, Ernie. Look at exactly who I am.” He blinked, his eyes finally focusing on my face in the dim moonlight. He leaned in again, his mouth curving into a cruel sneer. “Congratulations. You finally have me exactly where you want me. You must be dying of excitement.” I pulled my knee up and drove it violently into his stomach. I snatched a silver fruit knife off the coffee table and gripped the handle tight. “Do not touch me.” Ernie’s face darkened instantly. He stared at me for several long seconds. Then, a cold laugh escaped his throat. “I have to admit, you play the tortured victim quite well.” My grip on the knife stiffened. “All this playing hard to get… you are just copying your sister’s personality to turn me on, aren’t you?” He lunged forward and gripped my jaw, his fingers digging into my skin. “Drop the pathetic act. You will never replace her.” “Take your clothes off. Do your job tonight, and I will give you the dignity of being my wife. Otherwise.” Before he could finish his threat, I swung my arm. The blade sliced across his forearm. Hot blood immediately soaked through the crisp white fabric of his dress shirt. I stared dead into his eyes. “I said, do not touch me.” Ernie looked down at his bleeding arm in absolute disbelief. When he looked back up at me, a terrifying rage was boiling in his eyes. “Fine, Wendy.” He laughed, a dark, venomous sound, and stood up. “Do not regret this.” He walked out, leaving the front door wide open. I stumbled out into the cold night air and somehow made it back to my family’s house. The moment I walked in, my father hurled his porcelain teacup at my feet. It shattered into a hundred pieces. “You stabbed Ernie?” His finger shook as he pointed it at my face. I tried to explain, my breathing ragged. “He locked me up for three days. No food, no water. He tried to force himself.” “It is a privilege that he even wants to touch you.” My mother cut me off, her face twisted in disappointment. “So what if he locked you up? You are about to be his wife. If he wants to lock you up for the rest of your life, you smile and take it.” My father stepped closer. “You are nothing compared to your sister. Why won’t you use your body to tie him down while you still have your youth? How did I raise such a useless idiot?” I looked back and forth between their furious faces. It felt like a giant hand had reached into my chest, squeezing my heart until every last drop of warmth was gone. My father slammed his hand on the dining table. “You will stay in your room until the wedding. Learn some manners so you do not embarrass us any further.” Three days later, on Wednesday, the wedding day arrived. My parents practically dragged me to the cathedral. Nine o’clock passed. Then ten. Then eleven. Ernie did not show up. The pews were packed with New York’s elite, and the whispers grew deafening. “I heard Ernie found a girl downtown who looks just like Stella.” “Yeah, apparently she threw a fit this morning and refused to walk. Ernie carried her into his corner office in front of the whole board. They are probably still in there.” “Wow. So what happens to the Astor girl?” My father stood behind me. He threw his glass of champagne onto the marble floor. “When Stella was around, Ernie never dared to pull a stunt like this.” He grabbed a handful of my veil and yanked my head back. “You useless piece of trash. You are making us look like fools.” My mother sat beside me, dabbing fake tears with a tissue. “I gave birth to both of you. How did you turn out so defective? You cannot even keep a man’s attention for one day.” I sat in the front pew, perfectly still. The heavy oak doors creaked open. Vanessa walked in, a smug smile plastered across her face. Behind her, a bodyguard was struggling to hold a massive, mud-covered hunting hound on a thick leather leash. He let the dog go, and it immediately shook itself, splattering wet mud all over my pure white gown. The smell of wet dog and swamp dirt filled the air. “Mr. Crawford was delayed by an urgent matter,” Vanessa announced, projecting her voice. “Miss Astor, you will have to walk down the aisle with Duke. Mr. Crawford will arrive later for the ring exchange.” My father shot out of his seat. “Walk down the aisle with a dog? Are you out of your mind?” Vanessa crossed her arms. “Mr. Crawford said she marries the dog, or the wedding is off. Your call.” My father’s protests died in his throat. He glared at me with pure venom, blaming me for every ounce of humiliation he was feeling. My mother shoved my shoulder. “Listen to Ernie.” A twisted sense of relief washed over her face. “Thank God it is you up there. If Stella had to go through this, it would break my heart.” I looked at her. I did not say a single word. I looked down at my phone, dropped a location pin to Roman, and locked the screen. I linked my arm through my father’s and walked down the long, agonizing aisle toward the muddy dog. He handed me off to the hound. Behind me, the sound of camera shutters and muffled laughter echoed through the vaulted ceilings. “She is so desperate for his money.” “She brought this on herself. She chased him for twenty years. She would probably marry a pig if it meant getting the Crawford last name.” Just as the priest cleared his throat to start the mockery of a ceremony, the deafening roar of a sports car engine rattled the stained glass windows. I stood up and turned toward the entrance. Ernie stepped out of a sleek black car. In his hand, he held a pair of sharp steel scissors. “Stella cut her hair into a bob today. She is vacationing in Monaco.” He walked up the aisle and held the scissors out to me. “Cut your hair. Take off the dress. Put on some jeans and a T-shirt.” I stood my ground. I did not move. My father shoved me hard from behind. “What are you waiting for? Do what he says.” I still did not move. My eyes drifted past the crowd, looking out the massive open doors toward the winding coastal highway below the church. Ernie let out a cold laugh. “You really never learn, do you?” “Wendy, save your cheap tricks. Do you honestly think acting stubborn is going to make me desire you?” He threw the scissors at my chest. They clattered to the stone floor. “Playing hard to get is only fun until you become a pathetic joke.” I kept my mouth shut. My ears caught a new sound. The deep, heavy rumble of motorcycles. Slowly, a flash of brilliant red appeared on the horizon. A custom Ducati tore up the mountain road, kicking up a storm of dust. And right behind it was an endless, terrifying convoy of over a hundred matte-black luxury SUVs. “Who is that?” “What is going on? Did someone else rent out the mountain today?” The guests erupted into a frenzy of panicked whispers. Ernie’s brow furrowed into a deep, angry V. I stepped over the scissors and walked straight toward the church doors. Ernie’s face went dark. “Wendy. Get back here right now. Do not test my temper.” I ignored him completely. The red motorcycle skidded to a halt right in front of the cathedral steps. In one fluid motion, the rider wrapped a strong arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. Behind us, over a hundred black cars laid on their horns in perfect unison. The sky exploded. Daylight fireworks shot into the air, raining gold and crimson smoke over the entire estate.

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The heir to the Manhattan elite added both me and my roommate on Snapchat. He was incredibly warm to me. Yet to Cathy, the gorgeous campus queen, he was ice cold. She looked annoyed. “I thought Dominic was here for me. Can’t believe he is chasing you.” I was over the moon. We dated online for two whole months. But the day we finally met in person, his brows pulled together in a tight frown. “Why is it you?” 1 Dominic Lancaster had the wrong girl. All the affection, the late night calls, and the sweet texts meant for Cathy Shawn he had mistakenly given to me. Instead, he had accidentally ghosted the girl he actually wanted. A soft breeze drifted past. He leaned against his sleek Aston Martin, pinching the bridge of his nose in sheer frustration. He shot me a helpless, almost pitying look. “You should head back. I will text you tonight.” I forced back the tears burning in my eyes. “Okay.” But I was not stupid. Some things were just too cruel to say to a girl’s face. My dorm was empty when I got back. I crawled into bed and fell into a heavy, suffocating sleep. Loud voices woke me up. Cathy stood in the center of the room, clutching a massive bouquet of deep red roses. Our other two roommates were practically shouting over each other. “So it was just a mix up! I knew it. There was no way a guy like him would pass you up for Jenny.” Cathy offered a gentle, practiced smile. “It was just a misunderstanding.” She turned her gaze to me. “Jenny, I am apologizing on Dominic’s behalf. You are not mad, right?” I sat up, forcing my face into a blank mask. “No.” She let out a soft laugh. “Makes sense. It was only two months of texting anyway. You probably did not even like him that much.” 2 Cathy was wrong. I had been secretly in love with Dominic for years. He was three years older than me. By the time I was a freshman, he was a senior and barely ever on campus. It happened right after freshman orientation. He was back at the university to pick up some paperwork. I took a nasty fall on the concrete steps, and he was the one who drove me to the ER. But I was too painfully shy. I never asked for his number. I never even told him my name. After he graduated, he became a ghost. All I knew was that he came from old money, built a massive tech empire from the ground up, and lived in a world of penthouses and private jets. We were from completely different universes. Until recently. At a frat party, he asked for my socials. He was incredibly attentive. We texted from morning until night, and it did not take long for us to make it official. Looking back now, it was a joke. Every ounce of joy, every sweet good morning text, it was all meant for Cathy. My phone lit up. A text from Dominic. He did not waste a single breath. “Let us just end this here.” “Make sure you delete our chat logs. I do not want Cathy seeing any of it.” “To make up for the mix up, my assistant will wire you fifty grand.” Fifty grand. To a broke college student like me, it was life changing money. To him, it was pocket change. He was literally buying my silence. Erasing everything we had. I stared at the glowing screen for a long time before typing out a single word. “Okay.” I paused, then added a follow up. “I will not say a word about our conversations. You have my promise.” But the message bounced back. Not Delivered. He had already blocked me. Staring at that little red exclamation mark, my hands started to shake uncontrollably. I scrolled up. We had talked about everything. When he was in London for business, he sent me photos of his espresso, told me about the investors he hated, and complained about the jet lag. Once, I asked him to help me with a tricky finance assignment. He texted back saying he was in the shower. I teased him. “Prove it.” He actually did. He sent a photo. His hair was dripping wet, water sliding down the sharp, gorgeous angles of his face. He radiated this raw, dangerous magnetism. My face had burned hot. “Okay, delete it before I die of embarrassment.” A second later, he sent a voice note, his voice dark and thick with amusement. “Why are you scared? You will have to look at it every day eventually.” “I will have you know I have never been with anyone. But doing it with you… I think that would be incredibly fun.” I had literally googled what to expect for my first time that very night. Now, looking at those exact words… It was nothing but a humiliating fantasy. 3 I deleted every single message. I stopped googling his tech firm. I stopped reading his Forbes interviews. But I lived in the same cramped dorm as Cathy, and his name was constantly on her lips. She bragged that they were officially a couple. He had asked her out. That night, he rented out an entire VIP cinema for her. When she finally gathered the courage to reach for his hand, he subtly shifted away. “He acts like a total player, but he is weirdly old fashioned,” she complained to us. “Honestly, he makes me a little insecure. He is too perfect. Women throw themselves at him constantly.” I bit my tongue. Dominic was fiercely loyal. He had no messy exes, no female best friends. The only time he ever made a move was when he asked for Cathy’s number. That was how much he wanted her. One of our roommates chimed in. “You should ask him to take you to the Hamptons this weekend. Just the two of you in a hotel suite. Trust me, he will make a move.” “If you are nervous, invite us along! We can be your wingwomen.” I let out a heavy breath, shoved my AirPods in, and cranked the volume to the max. Just then, a girl from down the hall knocked on our open door. “Is Jenny here?” “Rowan Pierce is downstairs looking for you.” The entire room went dead silent. Cathy’s smile completely vanished. Her brows pulled together sharply. “You know Rowan Pierce?” I shook my head. “I have never met him.” But the girl insisted he had specifically asked for me by name. Panicking that something was seriously wrong, I rushed downstairs. 4 Rowan was waiting by the courtyard. Everyone knew exactly who he was. Filthy rich, top of his class, with the kind of lazy, heartbreaker good looks that made girls ruin their lives. Yet, strangely, the guy had never dated anyone. Freshman year, Cathy had sent someone to ask for his number. She was entirely convinced her looks made her invincible. Rowan turned her down flat. Because of that bruised ego, nobody in our dorm was allowed to mention his name. And now, he was leaning against a brick pillar, furiously typing on his phone. He looked extremely irritated. I walked up to him, shrinking a little. “I am sorry, did I keep you waiting?” He clicked his tongue. He looked up. Whatever he was about to say died in his throat. His eyes flickered over my face for a split second before he narrowed them. “You are Jenny?” I nodded. He fell silent. When he finally spoke, his tone was bizarre. “My cousin’s ex girlfriend?” I froze. It took my brain a solid ten seconds to connect the dots. I had only ever been in one relationship. But I had never associated the word ex with Dominic Lancaster. “You mean Dominic?” I asked cautiously. He nodded. “Yeah.” “Hardly anyone on campus knows about us. Please keep it to yourself,” I mumbled. He agreed. Then he pulled a crisp, folded check from his leather jacket. “He told me to give you this.” Right. The payoff. I took it without hesitating and shoved it in my pocket. Just then, his phone rang. I was standing close enough to see the caller ID. Dominic. Rowan did not even bother stepping away. He answered it with a lazy drawl. “Yeah?” Silence on the other end for a beat. “Did you see her?” Under the pale moonlight, Rowan lifted his gaze and stared right at me. “Saw her. Gave her the envelope.” My chest tightened. Dominic was just calling to make sure the transaction was complete. I did not want to hear the rest. I turned around and slipped quietly back into the building. 5 When I pushed the door open, Cathy was standing right by the window. “I thought Rowan Pierce was actually trying to sweep you off your feet,” she said, her voice dripping with venom. “Turns out he was just acting as a delivery boy. He barely even looked at you. What did he hand you anyway?” I stayed quiet. I could hardly tell her it was hush money from her new billionaire boyfriend. “Nothing important.” I grabbed my pajamas and locked myself in the bathroom before she could interrogate me further. When I stepped out, the air in the room was thick with tension. Cathy was doing her skincare routine, her phone on speaker on her desk. She was talking to Dominic. She asked if they could go up to the Hamptons for the weekend. “I will have my assistant book the penthouse suite,” his deep voice replied smoothly. Cathy giggled. “I am going to bring two of my friends along, is that okay?” Over the speaker, the sharp sound of shattering glass echoed through the line. Cathy jumped. “What happened? Are you okay?” Dominic’s voice dropped, sounding a little tight. “Just knocked over a glass. I am fine.” Over the next few days, they called each other every single night. Sometimes the conversations crossed into intimate territory. “Who was your first kiss?” she teased him once. A low, rough chuckle rumbled from the speaker. “Never had one. I have been saving it for you.” Every time they talked, I had to pretend I was deaf, burying my face in my textbooks. I stopped talking to people. Whenever a random guy asked for my number, I would explicitly introduce myself with my full name, terrified of another mistaken identity. By the weekend, Cathy and her two followers packed their designer duffels and left. I finally breathed. But the very next morning, the campus counselor called me in a panic. She needed Cathy for an emergency paperwork issue regarding her scholarship. None of the three girls were answering their phones. “It is extremely urgent. Do you have any way to reach her?” 6 The moment she asked, a cold dread pooled in my stomach. They were with Dominic. What if they had gotten into an accident? My palms started sweating. I had Dominic’s number memorized. I typed it in and hit call. The number you have dialed is unavailable. He really blocked my actual phone number too. He was incredibly thorough. He wanted every trace of my existence completely wiped from his life. Left with no other choice, I sprinted down six flights of stairs to the lobby payphone. By the time I punched in the digits, my lungs were burning. The line rang twice before it connected. I let out a massive sigh of relief and quickly explained that the counselor was desperately trying to reach Cathy. Through the receiver, Dominic’s voice was crisp and detached. “They are down in the restaurant eating breakfast. They left their phones in the room. I will let her know.” “Okay. Thank you.” I was about to slam the receiver down when I heard the distinct click of a metal lighter. Then came his voice, laced with a casual, almost mocking curiosity. “Why did you not come with them?” I froze. A memory hit me like a truck. A month ago, when we were still dating, Dominic had asked if I got along with my roommates. I had not wanted to sound like a loner, so I lied and said we were close. He had asked me about Cathy blowing up his phone, thinking her account was actually mine. I had defended her, saying she was sweet and did not mean to bother him. Every memory that used to feel like a fairytale now felt like acid burning a hole in my chest. I wet my dry lips, preparing to give him a polite, hollow excuse. But before I could speak, a soft voice floated through the phone. Cathy. “Dominic? I am so scared of sleeping alone… can I stay in your suite tonight? I can just take the sofa.” Something inside my brain quietly snapped. Without a single word, I slammed the heavy plastic receiver back onto the cradle. 7 After that weekend, Dominic was suddenly everywhere. We never spoke, but I saw him constantly. He was a busy CEO, yet he found the time to sit in the back of Cathy’s lecture halls. Once, he sat in the row directly behind me. They whispered to each other the entire time. Their voices were low, but the sound of his breathy laughs ruined my focus for the entire morning. Halfway through the lecture, my pen rolled off my desk. I bent down to grab it, my fingers brushing against another hand. His hand. He paused, his long fingers wrapping around the metal pen. He placed it squarely in my palm. “Here.” His tone was completely empty. Beside him, Cathy was glaring daggers at my back. My heart was a mess. When class ended, I looked down at my notebook and realized with absolute horror that I had unconsciously scribbled Dominic’s name in the margins. Panic flared in my chest. I grabbed my white out. Suddenly, a wave of scalding heat splashed violently across my back. Searing pain tore through my skin. I shrieked and spun around. Cathy was holding an empty tumbler. She widened her eyes in a perfect picture of innocence. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! My hand slipped. But the water was cold, right? You are fine. I will pay for the dress.” “It was literally boiling!” I choked out, tears of pain welling in my eyes. “You did that on purpose.” Cathy offered a pathetic, victimized smile and looked at the guy standing next to her. “You saw it, right? It was cold water.” The guy, desperate to get in Dominic’s good graces, nodded vigorously. “Yeah, totally cold.” Right at that moment, Dominic walked back into the room. He had stepped out to take a business call. Seeing the commotion, his dark brows pulled together. “What is going on?” The brown nosing classmate immediately spun the story in Cathy’s favor. Dominic’s cold gaze slid over to me. He clearly had somewhere more important to be. He chose the most efficient, soulless way to handle it. “I will have my assistant drop off a new dress for you later. Cathy did not mean it.” He paused, his eyes narrowing to icy slits. “But lying to play the victim is not a good look on you. Is it, Jenny?” My breath hitched. The burn on my back throbbed in agony, but it was nothing compared to the hollow ache in my chest. “Got it.” Between Cathy and me, no matter what the truth was, he was always going to choose her.

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My brother called me the family’s most boring person—because I always cried at his pranks. When he mashed gum into my hair, I cried. When he yanked my chair, fracturing my tailbone, I cried for two months flat on my stomach. Mom and Dad brushed it off. “Boys will be boys,” they said. “Learn to take a joke. You’re cold and unloving as an older sister.” So I stopped crying. Even when he piled food onto my plate at dinner, I forced a grateful smile. But he’d mixed in a heavy spoonful of peanut butter. The second I shut my bedroom door, invisible hands crushed my throat. I couldn’t breathe. Angry red hives erupted, burning like fire. I collapsed onto my bed, phone glowing in the dark. My Safari history showed one desperate search: “Can a peanut allergy kill you?” Consciousness faded. Through the wall, my brother laughed at his video game. In the living room, Mom and Dad watched a sitcom. No one cared what I did behind my closed door. No one knew their daughter was dying. In my next life, I don’t want to be a cruel joke’s punchline. I want to be treated like a human being. Even once. 1 “Ivy, come out and eat right now!” My mother’s voice pierced through the wooden door, dripping with irritation. I did not move. It was not because I was giving her the silent treatment. I physically could not move. My body felt like it was filled with wet cement. Every single muscle burned with a terrifying heat. I could feel the skin on my face stretching. My eyes were swollen shut into tiny, useless slits. My lips were completely engorged, so thick I could neither open nor close my mouth. My throat felt like someone had shoved burning coals down it. Every attempt to pull in oxygen felt like swallowing razor blades. “Ivy, are you deaf? I said dinner is ready!” She yelled again. Louder this time. I could hear the sharp edge of anger in her tone. Her patience was already gone. “Mom, she is just throwing a fit again.” My brother Cole’s voice drifted over from the dining table. He sounded entirely relaxed, like he was talking about the weather. “I just mixed a little peanut butter into her food. I just wanted to play a prank on her.” A prank. He said it so casually. As if sneaking peanut butter into the meal of someone with a deadly allergy was exactly the same as putting salt in a sugar bowl. Just a fun little science experiment. “Cole, you know your sister is allergic. Why would you do that?” My mother’s voice carried zero actual blame. It was just a mild, helpless complaint. “I just wanted to see what happened.” Cole sounded completely justified. “The books make it sound so scary. I bet they were just exaggerating.” “Alright, enough.” My mother cut him off. “Ivy, come out and eat your dinner. Stop being so petty with your brother.” I gave no response. I was not being stubborn. My tongue had swollen to twice its size. The entire inside of my mouth was inflamed. I tried to force my jaw open, but all that came out was a pathetic, muffled whimper. Like a stray cat that had just been hit by a car. “Ivy, I am warning you. Do not test my temper today.” My mother’s voice turned harsh. “If you refuse to eat, you are going to starve. Do not expect us to bring you a plate.” Her footsteps retreated from my door. The clinking of silverware against porcelain echoed from the living room. They had started eating. The perfect family of three. Without me. I lay paralyzed on my bed, staring up at the ceiling. There was a faint water stain right above me, shaped vaguely like a butterfly. I had stared at that stain countless times growing up. Whenever I felt overwhelmed, I would look at it until the tears stopped. But this time, the tears leaked out of my swollen eyes and rolled down my burning cheeks. Breathing was becoming impossible. I could hear the frantic pounding of my own heart. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like someone desperately banging on a door that would never open. My phone slipped from my numb fingers and hit the carpet. I let my eyes fall shut. Whatever. Let it end. Nobody cared anyway. When my soul finally drifted out of my body, my very first thought was strangely calm. So this is what dying feels like. 2 Every ounce of pain and suffocation vanished in a split second. I floated up near the ceiling, looking down at my own body on the bed. The girl lying there had her head twisted at an unnatural angle. Her face was swollen beyond recognition. Her lips had turned a sickening shade of dark purple. Her arms were covered in a horrific rash. The phone lay discarded on the floor, the screen still brightly lit. The search engine was stuck on the very last thing I tried to read before I died. “Emergency first aid for anaphylactic shock.” I floated right through my bedroom door. I drifted through the solid wood that nobody had bothered to knock on. In the living room, my mother was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through her phone. The coffee table was covered in half eaten dishes. Roast chicken, a green bean casserole, and a bowl of mashed potatoes. There was a full plate sitting at my usual spot. My mother had not cleared it away. A fork was still resting on the edge of the plate. She had no idea I would never take another bite of food in my life. My father, David, sat beside her watching the evening news. The meteorologist on the screen was predicting heavy rain for tomorrow. “Ivy is still not coming out?” He asked casually, not even taking his eyes off the television. “Ignore her. You spoil her too much.” My mother kept her eyes glued to her screen, her thumb swiping mindlessly. “Cole just played a harmless joke on her. Is she really going to drag this out?” “Whether she is dragging it out or not, the kid is allergic. You know that.” My father’s tone was completely flat. No panic. No concern. He might as well have been saying the milk was expired. “How bad could an allergy really be? It is not like she drank rat poison.” My mother frowned in annoyance. “She is just dramatic. She has been like this since she was little. The second she does not get her way, she locks herself in her room.” “Look at Cole. He is such a bright, happy kid. But having her around forces him to walk on eggshells.” Floating nearby, I actually wanted to laugh. Cole walked on eggshells? He certainly did not look nervous when he used my toothbrush to scrub the toilet bowl. He laughed louder than anyone when he snuck to the breaker box and cut the hot water while I was showering in the dead of winter. I was the one living in that house like I was navigating a minefield. He lived like a king who could do whatever he pleased. The only difference was who our parents chose to believe. “Fine, I will go check on her.” My mother finally put her phone down and stood up from the couch. I drifted behind her as she walked to my bedroom door. She pushed it open just a crack. The room was pitch black. The curtains were drawn tight. She could barely make out a curled up silhouette on the mattress. “Ivy, are you coming out to eat or not?” I did not move. I was already dead. “Alright, stop faking it.” Her voice grew even more exasperated. “If you are not eating, I am throwing it away. Do not come crying to me that you are hungry at midnight.” She waited for three seconds. The figure on the bed gave no response. “You are absolutely infuriating.” She slammed the door shut. Her footsteps marched back down the hall. She left. She did not take two steps inside. She did not flip the light switch to look at my face. If she had, she would have seen my deep purple lips. She would have touched my hand and realized it was already turning cold. But she just stood at the threshold. Ten feet away. Tossed out a few annoyed words. And walked away. I hovered in the hallway, staring at the closed door. “Mom, is she still not coming out?” Cole chewed on a chicken wing, his mouth shining with grease. He glanced down the hall toward my room. “Who knows with her. She is just throwing a pity party.” My mother started clearing the table. She scraped the leftover chicken into the trash. She picked up my untouched plate, stared at it for a second. She hesitated briefly. Then scraped it right into the garbage too. “Is she seriously mad?” Cole’s voice held a tiny fraction of guilt. But it vanished instantly. “I literally just put a drop of peanut butter in her food. Is she really going to overreact this much?” “Overreact or not, you know she has that allergy.” My mother stacked the dirty plates and carried them to the sink. “Just do not do stuff like that again.” That was it. No punishment. No lecture. No screaming that he could have killed his sister. Just a casual “do not do that again”. Spoken with the exact same weight as telling him not to leave his dirty socks on the floor. I watched the whole exchange. My chest felt strange. A deep, hollow ache. I was already dead. I had no heartbeat. So why did it still hurt? 3 “Mom, do you think she is actually sick or something?” Cole’s voice dropped lower. “What could possibly be wrong with her?” My mother turned on the faucet. The loud rush of water drowned out her words. “Your sister has done this her whole life. The slightest inconvenience and she plays dead.” She paused to scrub a plate. “Remember when you pulled her chair out? She laid in bed for two months claiming she was hurt. And she was perfectly fine in the end, was she not?” My soul drifted into Cole’s bedroom. His dual monitors were glowing brightly. A multiplayer shooter game was paused on the screen. He was leaning back in his expensive gaming chair, a lollipop in his mouth. His phone buzzed. A text from his friend. “Yo, how is your sister?” Cole typed back quickly. “She is fine. Just playing dead for attention like always.” “Your mom didn’t chew you out?” “Nah, my mom knows she is just a drama queen.” “Nice. We will have to think of a better prank next time. Lol.” “Yeah, next time I am going to steal her final project so she fails her class.” “Lmaooo you are a menace.” I stared at the glowing chat bubbles. Something shattered deep inside my chest. It was not anger. It was something much colder than anger. It was absolute, suffocating despair. The realization that in their eyes, I was not even a human being. I was just a toy. A prop for their amusement. Something they could break without ever worrying about the consequences. Because my parents would never punish him. They would always, always take his side. I turned around and floated out of his room. I did not want to hear his laughter anymore. I did not want to know how else they planned to humiliate me. I was dead. None of this should matter to me anymore. But why did it still sting? Later that night, my mother came back to my door. This time, she knocked. “Ivy, come out and take your shower.” No response. “If you do not answer me, I am coming in.” Still no response. She pushed the door open. The room was pitch black. She reached her hand in and flicked the light switch. The bright overhead bulb flooded the room. My corpse was still lying exactly where I collapsed. My posture had not shifted an inch since the afternoon. My face was even more grotesquely swollen now. My lips were a horrifying, bruised plum color. My fingers were curled inward, stiff and rigid like claws. My mother stood in the doorway. She took one look at me and frowned deeply. “Are you seriously still putting on this act?” She did not step closer. She stood at the doorway, her arms crossed defensively over her chest. Less than ten feet away. Ten feet. Her daughter was dead. Her dead child was lying ten feet away from her. She stared at me for three agonizing seconds. Then she turned around and walked away. “Ivy, I am telling you right now, if you do not get up, I am taking your phone tomorrow.” Her voice echoed down the hall. She never looked back. She never hesitated. She just walked away. I hovered right above my own bed. Looking down at my ruined body. I looked so disfigured I barely recognized myself. Mom. You did not recognize me either. But that is because you never really looked at me to begin with. Whenever you looked at me, your eyes were always filled with impatience. You always thought I was complaining, whining, faking it. You never once considered the possibility. That one day, I might actually die. Even when I was lying dead right in front of you, you refused to believe it. By ten o’clock, my father went to take his shower. My mother was back on the couch, watching a reality TV show. The television blared with canned laugh tracks. Hahaha. Hahaha. It echoed loudly through the house. Cole was back in his room, violently mashing his keyboard. He was in a voice call with his buddies. “Dude, that sniper is camping in the back!” “Revive me, revive me, I am down!” “Hahaha, we destroyed him.” Their laughter seeped through the walls. I floated in the empty hallway. Listening to the noise. It felt incredibly ironic. In this house. Every single person was smiling. And not a single one of them knew. That this family was missing a person. Forever. At eleven o’clock, my mother turned off the TV. She went to brush her teeth. As she walked past my bedroom, she paused. “Ivy, are you really…” She pushed the door open slightly. The lights were still glaringly bright. I was still lying there, frozen in the exact same position. She stood at the threshold and let out a heavy sigh. “You are impossible.” She reached out and flicked the light off. Click. The room plunged back into total darkness. My soul stood in the black void. Looking down at my own corpse. I suddenly remembered a true crime article I had read on Reddit a few weeks ago. It discussed how long it took for someone to be discovered if they died alone in their house. 4 Some people in the comments said three days. Some said a week. Some said it depended entirely on when the neighbors complained about the smell. I remembered reading that and thinking to myself. That would never happen to me. I lived with my parents and my brother. No matter how bad things got, they would definitely notice if I died, right? Now I knew the truth. They would not. They would just assume I was throwing a tantrum. Sulking, whining, acting out. Faking it. Even if I was dead. They still would not believe it. The next morning, my mother woke up to make breakfast. The sound of sizzling bacon drifted from the kitchen. The smell of food floated down the hall. It used to be my favorite smell in the world. “Ivy, get up, you are going to be late for school.” My mother yelled from the stove. No response. “Ivy!” Still nothing. “Unbelievable. Every single day it is a battle with her.” She walked out holding a plate of bacon. She glanced down the hallway. She did not walk toward my room. “Cole, go wake your sister up.” Cole walked out of his room, stretching casually. “Why should I? She will get up when she wants to.” “Just go knock on her door.” “No way.” He did not even spare a glance in my direction. My mother stood by the dining table. She looked at my empty seat. She pulled out her phone and sent me a furious text message. “Are you getting up or not? If you miss the bus, I am not driving you.” The message delivered. Silence. She sent another one. “Ivy, do not push me today.” Still silence. She slammed her phone down onto the table. “She is trying to give me a heart attack.” She grabbed her purse and her keys. And she left for work. The house fell completely, suffocatingly quiet. Leaving just me. Lying in the dark bedroom. My phone was still on the floor. The corner of the screen was cracked. Notifications began to pile up on the lock screen. Texts from my mother. A missed call from my homeroom teacher. Messages from classmates asking for homework answers. Nobody realized. That the owner of this phone. Would never reply to another message again. At ten o’clock in the morning, my homeroom teacher finally called my mother. My mother picked up. “Mrs. Astor, Ivy did not show up to homeroom today. Is everything alright?” “What? She is not at school?” “No, she never arrived.” “That stubborn girl…” My mother’s voice was laced with pure fury. “She was throwing a tantrum last night and locked herself in her room. I assumed she just walked to the bus stop on her own this morning.” “You should really go home and check on her, Mrs. Astor.” “Fine. I will handle it.” She hung up the phone. She did not rush home immediately. She told her boss she had a family issue, finished writing her morning report, and packed up slowly. It was noon by the time she finally drove home. As she unlocked the front door, she was already yelling. “Ivy, get out here right now. You have crossed the line today.” She stomped down the hallway to my door. She pushed it open. The lights were off. The curtains were still drawn tightly shut. The room was pitch black. She reached for the switch and flipped it. The lights hummed to life. I was still on the bed. Frozen in the exact same position I had been in since yesterday. Still wearing my clothes from yesterday. The swelling in my face had gone down slightly. But my lips were significantly darker now. A deep, horrifying blackish purple. “Ivy?” My mother’s voice faltered. She finally sensed something was horribly wrong. I had never skipped school to prove a point. No matter how angry I was, I never skipped class. Because I knew the punishment for skipping school would be ten times worse than whatever I was currently enduring. So I always woke up on time. I always caught the bus. No matter how sick or miserable I felt. But today, I did not get up. My mother finally stepped into the room. She walked slowly to the edge of the bed. She reached out and shoved my shoulder. “Ivy? Stop trying to scare me…” My body shifted slightly under her weight. It was stiff. Freezing cold. Like pushing a heavy boulder. My mother’s hand snatched back like she had been burned. She stared down at my face. She stared at my distorted, disfigured features. The blackened lips. The rigid, clawed fingers. Her pupils dilated violently, consuming her entire iris in sheer terror. “Ivy!!”

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My girlfriend’s stamina was absolutely terrifying. For the eight years we had been together, my body had been pushed to the absolute breaking point. So, when I found out her golden boy, her elusive first love, was finally returning from overseas, my eyes literally welled up with tears of sheer relief. Dawn had finally broken. My initial plan was to pack a bag and vanish into the night. But thinking back on how good Stella had been to me over these past eight years, I decided she deserved one last home-cooked meal. “Babe, what are you craving for dinner?” Her voice came through the phone speaker, crisp and icy. “Fish.” A shiver ran down my spine. “Honey, how about we switch up the menu…” Before I could even finish my sentence, the line went dead. She was a tyrant. I gritted my teeth. Fine, let’s go all out. It was my last night anyway. I refused to believe I couldn’t handle her one last time. During dinner, Stella pulled a pristine napkin from her lap. Slowly, methodically, she picked the tiny bones from her fish and lined them up on the white fabric. One bone. Two bones. She didn’t stop until she placed the seventh bone. 1 Night fell. I was gasping for air, my eyelids heavy as lead. Stella was in an even deeper state of bliss, completely boneless and melting against my chest. Her usual cold, distant demeanor had completely evaporated. The corners of her eyes and the curve of her brows held a lingering, intoxicating warmth. Looking at the stunning woman curled up in my arms, my body betrayed me and reacted again. Sensing the shift, Stella scrambled out of my embrace, her breath hitching. After a long moment of silence, she asked softly, “Noah, is something on your mind?” I mentally kicked myself. Damn it. I was so caught up in the afterglow that I completely forgot my exit strategy. Taking advantage of her rare good mood, I tested the waters. “Sweetheart, I heard Sebastian is back from Europe.” Stella furrowed her perfect brows. “What does his return have to do with you?” How could it not? That was the man she had been pining over for a decade. I tried to reason with her. “Look, babe, I know you never truly got over him. Now that he’s back, I’m willing to step aside. I want you to be happy.” “If I can’t give you the fairy tale, I’m giving you your freedom.” The more I spoke, the more worked up I got. I was practically bringing myself to tears with my own nobility. But Stella’s face turned entirely to ice. A terrifying, inexplicable chill settled in her eyes. I knew that look. It was the calm before the hurricane. I wisely shut my mouth. After what felt like an eternity, she let out a heavy sigh, turned her back to me, and pulled the covers up. “Noah, never say anything like that to me again.” Seeing her act so utterly put out made my blood boil. Who was she kidding? Everyone knew she was still hung up on Sebastian. I was literally serving her freedom on a silver platter, and she had the nerve to act annoyed. Fine. If she wouldn’t listen to reason, she couldn’t blame me for ghosting. With my mind made up, I squeezed my eyes shut and turned away from her. Exhaustion quickly took over, pulling me into a heavy, dreamless sleep. When I opened my eyes, sunlight was pouring into the bedroom. The space beside me was empty. Stella was fiercely disciplined and ruthlessly ambitious. You didn’t become the Vice President of a publicly traded tech firm just eight years out of college by sleeping in. I was her polar opposite. I took life as it came. After graduation, I floated around the tech sector. Now, pushing thirty, I was just a mid-level department manager. I dragged myself out of bed, called my boss to burn a sick day, and immediately headed out to meet a real estate agent. I had picked out a new apartment the exact day I heard Sebastian was coming back. The place was perfect. Utilities were set up, the Wi-Fi was blazing fast, the furniture was brand new, and most importantly, it was incredibly close to my office. I didn’t even try to haggle. I signed the lease right there on the kitchen counter. When the agent heard I wanted to move in today, he eagerly hooked me up with a moving crew. I didn’t own much. My work laptop, some clothes, and a few boxes of books. By noon, my side of the closet was wiped clean. Walking out of the building, I glanced back at the luxury condo we had shared for the last eight years. A bitter ache twisted in my chest. Even when Stella started making serious money, we never upgraded. To me, this place was home. But for the sake of my own survival, I had to cut the cord. The destructive power of a girl’s first true love was legendary. If I lingered even a second too long, I’d be caught in the blast radius. 2 By the time the sun set, my new place was spotless. Looking around the quiet, brightly lit living room, the tight knot in my chest finally began to loosen. Just as I was admiring my handiwork, my phone absolutely blew up. Our high school WhatsApp group, which was usually a ghost town, was blowing up with notifications. Chase, our old class president, had sparked the chaos. “Alright people! To welcome Sebastian back to the States, drinks and dinner are on me tomorrow night at eight. Private lounge at the Plaza Hotel. I want to see everyone there!” Chase was Sebastian’s ultimate wingman back in the day, so him hosting a welcome back bash was fully expected. The chat went wild. People were hyping Chase up and flooding the chat with emojis for Sebastian. Then, Sebastian himself chimed in. “Thanks for remembering me, guys. I really hope to see all of your faces tomorrow.” Immediately after, he dropped a massive digital gift card into the chat for everyone to claim. The group completely lost its mind, calling him a boss and a legend. I watched the screen in dead silence. I didn’t type a word. I didn’t click the link. Hailey, a girl who used to share a desk with Sebastian, suddenly derailed the hype train. “Why is Stella so quiet? Is she not in the group anymore? Is she coming tomorrow?” The chat went completely dead. Back in high school, Sebastian and Stella were the undisputed golden couple. He was the handsome star athlete, she was the untouchable ice queen, and they permanently locked down the top two spots in our class rankings. Even the strictest teachers looked the other way when they held hands in the hallways. Back then, Stella was the picture of a devoted girlfriend. To any other guy, she was a brick wall. But for Sebastian, she was soft, sweet, and entirely attentive. When he played basketball, she stood on the sidelines holding his water bottle. When they ate in the cafeteria, she would quietly move the best pieces of meat from her tray onto his. Every guy in our class watched them with a toxic mix of jealousy and despair. But things fell apart after graduation. Sebastian chose to attend a prestigious university in the UK. They had a massive, explosive fight about it. Stella begged him to stay. Sebastian was dead set on leaving, demanding she come with him. But Stella came from a working-class family. There was absolutely no way she could afford international tuition. They shattered completely. When college started, Stella fell into a dark, suffocating depression. As her former classmate and long-time admirer, I saw my window. She was in a new city, reeling from a brutal heartbreak, and entirely vulnerable. I didn’t hesitate. I stepped right into the void. During winter break of our freshman year, after a party and far too many drinks, the line between us blurred. I’ll freely admit I wasn’t some noble knight. I acted purely out of raw, desperate infatuation. I didn’t let myself think about the consequences. But the next morning, seeing the vulnerability in her eyes and realizing she had given me a part of herself she had never shared with Sebastian, I froze. At that exact moment, I knew I was in way over my head. I was completely hers. Once we made it official, I gave her everything I had. But Stella always kept me at an arm’s length. I understood why. I was the rebound. I was the guy who kept the loneliness at bay when she was bleeding out. I couldn’t blame her for that. I still poured my heart into her. I was young and foolish enough to believe that if I just loved her hard enough, eventually she would see my worth. So, when she asked me not to post pictures of us on Instagram, I kept my feed empty. When she told me to stay home from her corporate promotion dinners, I stayed home. For eight years, I swallowed my pride. I accepted that she was cold to the world and lukewarm to me. That was just who she was. But there were nights when I would wake up to an empty bed. I would find her standing on the balcony, her eyes lost in the city lights, carrying a melancholy that I could never touch. I knew exactly who she was looking for. 3 The buzzing of my phone yanked me back to reality. The group chat was completely off the rails now. “Stella will definitely be there. Has anyone even heard of her dating anyone since high school?” “Exactly. She’s been waiting for our boy Sebastian.” “So, Mr. Wall Street, are you planning on winning a certain someone back?” Sebastian replied with a single smiley face emoji. He said absolutely nothing, but that emoji screamed volumes. I had already made peace with walking away. But reading those messages still felt like a jagged piece of glass twisting in my gut. I let out a bitter laugh. Sebastian was clearly treating her like a prize he had already won back. My phone vibrated in my hand. It was Stella. I answered, and her clipped, professional voice filled my ear. “Noah, I’m stuck at the office. Don’t wait up for dinner. Bye.” She hadn’t even been home. She had no idea my closet was empty. Before she could hang up, I cut in. “Wait. Don’t hang up.” “Stella, have you looked at the high school group chat today?” Her tone was completely flat. “No. I don’t have time for that.” I took a deep breath, bracing myself. “Tomorrow night, they’re throwing a massive welcome home party for Sebastian. Are you going?” The silence on the other end stretched on for so long that I thought the call dropped. Finally, her voice came through, colder than liquid nitrogen. “No. Why, do you want to go?” What kind of trap was that? If she wasn’t going, was I banned from attending? Besides, how was I supposed to know if she was lying just to sneak off and see him? “Yeah, I’m going. Why wouldn’t I?” I shot back. “Besides, if we both pull a no-show, certain people might get the wrong idea. That wouldn’t be a good look.” Stella caught the hidden venom in my words. Her voice dropped an octave. “Noah, cut the passive-aggressive act. You’ve called me by my first name three times today. I don’t like it.” Click. She hung up. I scoffed at the screen. You don’t like it? Well, I don’t like a lot of things. For eight years, I called her sweetheart, baby, honey. She exclusively used my first name. The only time she ever called me her man was when we were tangled in the sheets. I gave up eight years of my life chasing a title she was never going to give me in the daylight. The fantasy was over. I was done bleeding myself dry for a lost cause. I opened the chat one last time. People were literally taking bets on what their romantic reunion was going to look like. Disgusted, I tossed my phone onto the sofa. A heavy, suffocating pain spread through my chest. Walking away was the right move, but it didn’t mean I had magically stopped loving her. I loved her desperately. But after eight years of talking to a wall, even the deepest love runs out of oxygen. Staying any longer would just be pathetic. That night, I was deep in a dreamless sleep when my phone shattered the silence. I blindly swiped to answer. Stella’s voice poured out of the speaker, so cold it could freeze whiskey. “Noah. Where the hell are you?” I jolted awake, my heart slamming against my ribs. “S-Stella. I moved out.” The words felt clumsy and guilty on my tongue, even though I had nothing to be guilty about. I could literally hear her teeth grinding together. “Give me one good reason.” Did I really need to spell it out? Your golden boy is back in town ready to sweep you off your feet. I was just clearing the stage. “I don’t need a reason. I’m just not in love with you anymore. We’re done.” Dead silence. I didn’t say another word. We just stayed on the line, listening to each other’s ragged breathing through the dark. After a long time, the edge finally left her voice, leaving something soft and broken behind. “Noah, I knew something was wrong with you these past few days. But you wouldn’t talk to me.” “We’ve been together for eight years. We might not have the paperwork, but we’re basically married. If you’re going through something, tell me. We can fix it together.” I let out a harsh, cynical laugh. Fix it? How do you fix a ghost from the past? “Save the fake sympathy, Stella. I’m not going through anything. I just don’t want you anymore. It’s over.” Before she could form a response, I pulled the phone away and ended the call. Just before the screen went black, I swore I heard a sharp, trembling sob. Nonsense. Stella crying over me? Impossible. I was just hearing things. 4 I woke up the next morning, stretched, and felt surprisingly incredible. Living alone actually had its perks. I didn’t have to worry about draining my life force just to keep Stella satisfied. I grabbed a coffee and a breakfast sandwich downstairs and started plotting out my Saturday. I had the whole day to myself, and I was absolutely going to that reunion tonight. I needed to see with my own eyes if the woman who swore she wasn’t going would miraculously show up. After breakfast, I hit an upscale barbershop for a clean, sharp fade. Looking in the mirror, I had to admit, the raw material wasn’t bad. I was just horribly packaged. Plaid shirts, faded jeans, and hiking boots. No wonder Stella treated me like a dirty secret. Honestly, I couldn’t even fully blame her. I walked straight to Nordstrom and dropped some serious cash on a tailored navy suit. I even let the sales associate talk me into some skincare products. When I looked in the dressing room mirror, I gave myself a slow nod of approval. Money really does buy confidence. At exactly six o’clock, I pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the Plaza Hotel’s VIP lounge. Most of the class was already there, drinks in hand, buzzing with nostalgia. Right in the epicenter of the room stood a man in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, soaking up the adoration like a sponge. “Sebastian, man, I heard you started your own private equity fund. You guys must have all the insider tech, right?” Sebastian offered a smooth, mysterious smile, playing the enigmatic billionaire perfectly. When he didn’t give up the goods, people pressed harder. “Come on, Seb. We’re family here. If you’ve got the golden ticket, you can’t keep it all to yourself.” Chase, the class president, threw an arm around Sebastian’s shoulder and laughed loudly. “Relax, guys! You know our boy isn’t like that. When he makes a move, he’ll take care of us.” The crowd visibly relaxed, practically lining up to kiss the rings of both Sebastian and Chase. Chase caught my eye from across the room and raised his whiskey glass. “Noah! You made it!” I wasn’t exactly a star player in high school, so I was surprised he remembered my name. Sebastian followed Chase’s gaze and gave me a polite, measured nod. But there was something sharp and highly amused in his eyes. I walked over and bumped fists with Chase. He was a trust-fund kid, loud and a little obnoxious, but he didn’t have a malicious bone in his body. Then I looked at Sebastian. Eight years in Europe had done him well. He was sharper, wealthier, and radiating an effortless alpha energy. Even in my new suit, I felt a little outgunned. Sebastian swirled the ice in his glass. “Noah. I remember you went to the same university as Stella.” I nodded, waiting for the hook. He asked casually, flawlessly nonchalant. “Do you guys still keep in touch?” Before I could even open my mouth, Hailey, his former desk-mate and ultimate fangirl, let out a loud scoff. “Please. Stella’s standards are way too high. Why would she keep in touch with him? I don’t think they exchanged two words our entire senior year.” A ripple of laughter echoed through the group. I just shrugged. I had already dumped her. Let them think whatever they wanted. It wasn’t like I had ever planned on using her name for street cred anyway. Chase frowned at the laughing crowd. “Shut up, guys. None of you talked to her either.” That shut the guys up real quick. It was true. Aside from Sebastian, Stella treated the male population like they were invisible. Hailey noticed Sebastian constantly checking his Rolex and glancing at the door. She bumped his shoulder playfully. “Seb, your heart is literally hovering by the entrance.” Sebastian offered a modest, handsome smile. “If you’re that anxious, just call her,” Hailey pushed. “We might not have her number, but there’s no way you don’t.” Sebastian neatly dodged the question. “Whether she comes or not is entirely up to her. I wouldn’t want to pressure her into changing her mind just because I called.” Hailey looked at him like he was a god. “You are such a gentleman.” I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. The guy was putting on a masterclass in manipulation. He knew exactly what he was doing. If he called her, she would drop everything and run here. Suddenly, the heavy double doors of the banquet hall slowly swung open. Stella stood in the doorway, framed by the hallway lights. She was still wearing her sleek, tailored executive blazer and skirt. The room gasped. The boys practically scrambled over each other to form a welcoming committee. I took a sip of my drink, a bitter smirk on my face. She swore she wasn’t coming, yet here she was, making the grand, dramatic entrance. Was this the only way to ensure every eye in the room was on her? But damn, a first love’s gravity was terrifying. A blind man could see exactly who she had rushed here for. Sebastian stepped through the crowd, parting them like the Red Sea. His eyes were liquid velvet. “Stella. You made it.” Stella looked like murder. Her aura was so dark and heavy it could crush coal into diamonds. She completely ignored Sebastian. Her eyes frantically scanned the room, hunting for something. Sebastian’s polite smile faltered slightly. “Stella? Are your eyes swollen? Have you not been sleeping?” Hearing that, I looked up from the shadows near the bar. He was right. Her beautiful, striking eyes were red and puffy. I scoffed internally. Was seeing Sebastian again really that overwhelming? She actually cried over him? Stella acted like Sebastian hadn’t even spoken. Her desperate gaze snapped onto me, locking on like a laser. 5 The entire room watched in absolute, breathless silence. Stella walked straight past Sebastian and stopped right in front of me. Then, the ice queen shattered. A dazzling, breathtaking smile bloomed on her face, making the entire room feel like a summer morning. She reached out her delicate hands and grabbed my collar. “Honey,” she whispered, her voice like warm honey, “that’s not how you tie a half-Windsor.” With practiced, intimate movements, she undid my messy knot and expertly retied it. I stood there holding my scotch, utterly paralyzed. Who was this woman? Eight years. Eight miserable years, and she had never once called me anything affectionate in public. And now, standing three feet away from the love of her life, she was adjusting my tie and calling me honey? Was she actively trying to get me murdered? I opened my mouth to stop the madness, but Stella was putting on the performance of a lifetime. She smoothly looped her arm through mine, pressing against my side. She looked out at the sea of shocked faces, her smile radiant.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “497727”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel