1 I clutched the ultrasound, my heart racing as I rushed to tell Paul the news. He did not look at me, only threw his phone onto the table. The screen lit up with a photo of him and a young woman, their faces close, lips almost touching. The sight was a dizzying blow. “I do not belong to this world,” Paul said coldly. His words struck me like lightning, choking back every question. He leaned back and explained that in another timeline, I had chosen a man named Kieran. Driven by jealousy, he crossed time to reach me first. “I made sure to enter your life before Kieran could. I recreated everything meant for the two of you, including you.” His tone held pride and contempt. “But after all these years with you,” he added with a mocking laugh, “I realized you are nothing special.” A decade of love, from passionate dates to quiet mornings, now meant nothing. My heart felt torn. I could barely breathe. “So you betrayed me?” I forced out, my voice trembling. “Yes,” he replied without pause. “She is young, gorgeous, thrilling. You are just boring, pathetic.” He lit a cigarette and blew smoke into my face. It stung my eyes, and tears finally fell. “Tessa, we are getting a divorce.” He finally said the words I was most terrified to hear. Refuse the divorce? What good would that do? Should I completely abandon my dignity and beg him not to throw me away? My throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton. Every syllable tasted like blood. “No.” Before I could say anything else, Paul burst into loud, cruel laughter. “See? I told you. Even if she caught me cheating, she would never have the guts to leave me!” “So it is not that I do not want to make things official with you, baby. She is just obsessed with me. My hands are tied!” I stared at him in absolute shock. The passenger window of his parked car outside the living room window slowly rolled down. That same beautiful, youthful face from the photo leaned out. Lexi pouted her lips, looking annoyed. “Old lady, the professor does not love you anymore. Why are you still clinging to him like a parasite?” “Have you got absolutely no shame? Even a stray dog knows when to walk away.” The mistress. She was calling me shameless. My entire body shook with pure, unadulterated rage. I marched toward the door, walked up to the car, and raised my hand to slap her across the face. Before my hand could connect, Paul grabbed my wrist. He violently shoved me back. His voice dropped to a freezing temperature. “We are in public. Watch yourself.” Those words stabbed directly into the softest part of my heart. I remembered the day he confessed his love to me. Those three words cut through the deafening sound of fireworks, crashing right into my soul. When I nodded and said yes, he jumped around like a little kid. He picked me up and spun me around. I blushed red and whispered that we were in public. He just laughed and yelled even louder. “I want the whole damn world to know that Tessa is finally mine!” How did that boy, the one who loved me with such a burning, chaotic passion, turn into this cold stranger? I sniffled, forcing the burning tears back down. “When did it start?” Paul answered like we were discussing the weather. “About half a month before the wedding.” All the blood in my veins turned to ice. Lexi smirked, her eyes gleaming with toxic provocation. “Did you sleep well on your wedding night, Tessa?” “I was wearing your custom wedding dress. I was lying right next to your spot on the bed. The professor and I went at it all night long while you were asleep in the guest room. It was incredibly thrilling.” Her vicious laughter shattered whatever was left of my soul. So the stain on my dress. It was not soy milk that he accidentally spilled. On my very first morning as a married woman, I stood in the sink and scrubbed the physical evidence of his infidelity out of my own wedding dress. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that they bled. I bit my lip until I tasted copper. “Why are you only telling me this now?” He could have told me before he cheated. He could have told me before we signed the papers. Why wait until I was pregnant? If he was already sleeping with her, why did he marry me? Why did he get me pregnant? The tears completely broke through the dam. Seeing me sob uncontrollably, Paul froze for a split second. Then, he leaned casually against the car door and flicked his cigarette onto the driveway. “In the other reality, you and Kieran got married. So.” “By getting you pregnant, I officially won the game.” He reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek. The heavy smell of tobacco on his fingers made me choke. More tears spilled out. It all made sense now. Every single romantic gesture. Every heartbeat. Every ounce of love he ever gave me was completely poisoned by his sick desire to win. When the fake love evaporated, all that was left was a scoreboard. Paul grew visibly annoyed by my crying. He muttered the word “pathetic” under his breath, got into the driver’s seat, and sped off, leaving me standing alone in the driveway. When the shock finally began to fade, I realized there was warm liquid running down my thighs. Blood. A brutal, tearing pain ripped through my abdomen. By the time the ambulance rushed me to the emergency room, the pain was blinding. The ER nurse grabbed my emergency contact and dialed Paul’s number. The phone connected. Heavy, explicit panting echoed through the speaker. The nurse looked at me with deep pity and immense awkwardness. She cleared her throat. “Sir, your wife is currently experiencing a threatened miscarriage. She is bleeding heavily.” “What?” Paul’s voice suddenly went tight. “She was perfectly fine twenty minutes ago.” Lexi’s breathless, sweet voice cut through the background. “A miscarriage is perfect. If the baby dies, maybe she will finally stop stalking you, Professor.” The line went dead silent for a long moment. Then, Paul’s clear, remorseless voice came through the speaker. “Then let her lose it.” The call abruptly disconnected. I closed my eyes. The absolute depths of sorrow swallowed me whole. Right at that moment, frantic footsteps rushed toward my bed. “Tessa!” 2 The doctors could not save the baby. I stayed in the hospital for three agonizing days. Paul never showed his face once. During those endless hours in the hospital bed, Lexi sent me a friend request on social media. I accepted it. Like a masochist, I scrolled through the posts she had specifically made public just for me. Lexi and I shared the exact same birthday. This year, for the first time since we started dating, Paul did not spend my birthday with me. He told me he had a mandatory academic conference in Cabo. He did go to Cabo. But he went to celebrate Lexi’s birthday. There were photos of them kissing underwater while scuba diving. Photos of them on a private helicopter watching the sunset. A video of him presenting her with ninety nine red roses. Hidden inside was a stunning ruby ring. I recognized the jeweler. I had looked up that exact ring months ago. It came with a complimentary gift. A cheap, hand braided leather bracelet. Paul had given me that exact leather bracelet for my birthday. He told me he had hiked up a mountain to a monastery to weave it himself. He said it would protect me. I cherished it like it was made of solid gold. Looking at it now, it burned my wrist like acid. With bloodshot eyes, I violently ripped the leather cord off my wrist and threw it into the hospital trash can. Along with every last drop of love I ever had for Paul. After completing the discharge paperwork, I took a cab back to the house. The second I pushed the front door open, my mind went totally blank. The house was so foreign I thought I had walked into the wrong address. My comfortable sneakers were kicked carelessly into a corner. The shoe rack was lined with expensive, flashy stilettos. The vases were stuffed with loud, arrogant red roses. My favorite irises were tossed into the garbage bin. Even the massive, hand painted portrait I had spent weeks creating for our living room was gone. It had been replaced by a framed, professional studio photo of Paul and Lexi. Right in the center of the room, on the hanging swing chair we bought together, Paul was holding Lexi in his lap. They were passionately making out. They kept kissing for five solid minutes before they finally noticed me standing there. Paul did not ask about the hospital. He did not ask about the dead baby. He just casually stood up and tossed an apron at my chest. “Perfect timing. Lexi is hungry. Go make us some lunch.” I stared at him in pure disbelief. He had never let me touch a stove in my entire life. He used to hold my hands and say, “I will handle the bills and the cooking. You just focus on painting the beautiful things in this world.” All that tender protectiveness was completely thrown out the window the second another woman walked in. Seeing me frozen in place, Paul frowned in deep annoyance. “I literally crossed through time and space for you. I cooked every meal for you for years. You should be down on your knees thanking me. You are just a broke artist, stop acting like you are above this.” I slowly tied the apron around my waist. A hollow smile crept onto my face. “Fine.” I would cook this one meal. Consider it repaying my debt to him. After this, the bridge was burned. We were done. Paul smirked, looking incredibly satisfied. “Good girl.” “Lexi is moving in with us permanently. You refuse to leave me, and I refuse to leave her. We all live under one roof, everyone wins.” “As long as you stay quiet and behave, you get to keep your title as my wife.” I did not say a single word. I just turned around and walked into the kitchen. Whether she lived here or not had absolutely nothing to do with me. Because I was leaving. Very soon. That night, Paul wrapped his arm around Lexi’s waist and walked toward the master bedroom. As we passed each other in the hallway, I was typing a message on my phone. He caught a glimpse of the screen. His eyes practically bulged out of his skull. He lunged forward and snatched the phone out of my hand. He tried to unlock it, only to realize the passcode was no longer our anniversary date. “You changed your password?” He grabbed my wrist. His grip was so violent I thought the bones would snap. “Tell me the truth. Were you texting Kieran just now?” “When did you two start talking again? Have you been sleeping with him behind my back this whole time?” His eyes were burning with the furious, self righteous anger of a betrayed husband. As if I was the one who had destroyed our vows. Fueled by pure disgust, I raised my free hand and slapped him across the face as hard as I could. “Paul, not everyone in this world is a filthy, cheating hypocrite like you!” Paul froze for a few seconds. Then, he let out a terrifying roar. “You dare hit me?” “You think I am filthy? Fine. I will show you exactly how filthy I can be.” 3 He dragged me by my hair down the hallway and shoved me into the master bedroom. He ripped open the doors of my massive walk in closet and violently threw me inside. Panic flooded my chest. I fought back with everything I had, kicking and screaming, but he slammed the heavy wooden doors shut. The light completely vanished. I heard the sound of a heavy wooden chair being jammed beneath the door handles, locking me in from the outside. “Let me out, Paul!” The only response was a cold, cruel scoff. A few moments later, the heavy, unmistakable sounds of sex began echoing through the bedroom walls. I clamped my hands over my ears. I desperately tried to block out the nauseating sounds of them together. But it was useless. The closet doors rattled violently against their frames as they crashed against them. Through the tiny sliver of light coming through the crack in the doors, I saw the clothes hanging right in front of my face. It was a set of matching baby clothes. Paul had bought them when we first started trying to get pregnant. Now, the baby was dead in a medical waste bin, and his heart belonged to a college student. Those tiny clothes mocked me in the dark. I lost my mind. I ripped the baby clothes off the hangers and shredded them with my bare hands. The tears poured down my face like a broken dam. In that suffocating, pitch black box, every single breath felt like inhaling broken glass. I do not know how many hours passed. Eventually, the sounds outside stopped. The chair was dragged away, and the doors slowly creaked open. The bedroom lights blinded me. My eyes were so swollen and dry I could not produce another tear. Paul stood above me, looking down like a god looking at an insect. “Did you enjoy the show?” I ignored his twisted question. “Give me my phone back.” His face darkened instantly. He was about to explode again, but when he saw how terrifyingly pale and hollow my face was, he held back. He threw the phone onto my lap. He stood there, demanding I unlock it right in front of him. He genuinely thought he caught me cheating. The second the screen unlocked, a flood of notifications popped up. Dozens of missed calls. Every single one of them was from my dad. A cold, creeping dread wrapped its fingers around my throat. I immediately dialed his number back. It rang forever. Finally, the call connected. The sound of my mother’s agonizing, world ending scream shattered my eardrums. “Tessa… your dad… he is in the resuscitation room…” All the sound vanished from the world. It took me several seconds to process her words. My entire body went numb. I tried to scramble up from the floor to run to the door. But I had been cramped in the dark for so long that my legs were completely dead. I pitched forward and smashed my chin hard against the hardwood floor. Blood pooled under my jaw. Paul instinctively reached down to help me. I shoved him away with the force of a hurricane. I clawed my way up using the wall and stumbled out of the room like a wounded animal. He took a step to follow me, but Lexi reached out from the bed and grabbed his wrist. She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Professor, my legs are completely useless right now. Carry me to the shower, please?” Paul looked at the hallway, looked back at her, and stayed in the room. I ran to the hospital like a madwoman. When I finally reached the ICU doors, I saw the doctors slowly pulling a white sheet over my father’s face. “Dad.” I collapsed onto the floor, screaming until my vocal cords tore. “Dad, I am here! Please wake up and look at me!” “I just bought that aged whiskey you wanted! You haven’t even opened it yet!” My mother slowly turned her head. Her eyes were completely swollen, red, and devoid of any life. Slap. A sharp, ringing sound echoed in the hallway, cutting my cries short. My mother’s hand trembled in the air. Her entire body shook uncontrollably. “Why didn’t you answer the phone? When your father collapsed, he kept dialing your number over and over again. Why didn’t you pick up?!” “If you had just answered the phone… the ambulance would have gotten here in time…” Her words were a sledgehammer directly to my skull. I slumped against the cold tiles. I opened my mouth over and over again, but the pain in my chest was so immense I could not make a single sound. Only silent tears fell to the floor. Suddenly, a terrified scream echoed from the hospital courtyard outside the window. “Someone just jumped off the roof!” I whipped my head around. My heart completely stopped. “Mom! No!” But I was too late. Her eyes were completely empty as she stepped backward over the ledge. I threw myself against the reinforced glass. I could not catch her. I could not even touch the fabric of her coat. A horrifying blossom of red exploded on the concrete far below. The impact shattered every single organ inside my own body. Regret and despair crashed down on me like a tidal wave, dragging me into the pitch black depths. I suffocated in the agony, letting out a raw, inhuman wail. My home. It was gone. My family was dead. Right at that exact second, my phone screen lit up on the floor. A text from Paul. [Lexi is getting cold. Where did you put that heavy quilt?] That was the wedding quilt my mother had spent six entire months sewing by hand. Every single stitch was a prayer for my happiness. And he wanted to give it to Lexi. Because she was a little cold. What about my father, lying under a thin white sheet? What about my mother, lying in a pool of blood on the concrete? Their bodies were losing heat by the second. Weren’t they cold? My fingers shook violently. It took me three full minutes to type two words. [Let’s divorce.] He replied instantly. [Fine.] 4 During the days I spent planning my parents’ funerals, Paul’s texts flooded my phone. [Where the hell did you go?] [I thought you wanted a divorce? Getting cold feet?] [I am willing to give you one last chance. Come back home, behave yourself, and warm the bed for me and Lexi. If you do that, I will consider keeping you around.] [Think about this carefully, Tessa!] I did not reply to a single one. When the last message came in, I blocked his number permanently. I stood in absolute silence as I watched the caskets roll into the crematorium fire. I had no tears left to shed. From this moment on, there was not a single person left on this earth who shared my blood. A week later, I returned to the house for the final time. When I walked through the door, Paul was laughing on the couch with Lexi. The second he saw me, his face hardened into a furious scowl. “You finally remembered where you live? Figured it out? Decided against the divorce?” I felt nothing but a bone deep, crushing exhaustion. I reached into my bag, pulled out the signed divorce papers, and placed them on the coffee table. When Paul saw my signature already on the dotted line, his pupils contracted. A terrifying, violent rage erupted in his eyes. “Tessa, are you absolutely sure about this?” I cut him off, my voice dead. “I am sure.” Paul let out a dark, psychotic laugh. “You want to leave? Fine.” “But I am getting one last ride out of you.” He lunged forward and violently threw me onto the floor. My head slammed against the hardwood, making the room spin with nausea. I fought back with everything I had, but my resistance only fueled his rage. He raised his hand and slapped me across the face with brutal force. My head snapped to the side. A high pitched ringing filled my ears. Paul’s voice was like poisoned ice. “When we first met, you were begging me to take you to bed within two months. Now you want to play the pure, untouchable saint?” “I traveled across space and time just to worship you. You want a divorce? Then you are going to pay back every single thing you owe me right now.” So that was it. Every act of love, every gentle moment he ever gave me. In his mind, it was just a transaction. I was just a cheap whore. The burning, romantic promises he used to whisper in my ear were just daggers waiting to carve me apart. If his love was destined to turn into this vile, rotting poison, I wished to God he had never crossed time to find me. My dead heart ripped open one final time. I stopped fighting. A pale, empty laugh escaped my lips. “Hurry up. Get it over with quickly, and sign the damn papers.” Paul stared at me in shock. Then, he let go of my wrists and stood up, looking at me with pure, unfiltered disgust. “When you are used to eating at five star restaurants, looking at cheap fast food just makes you sick.” He grabbed a pen, violently signed his name on the divorce papers, and threw the thick stack of documents directly at my face. The sharp edge of the paper sliced a thin cut across my cheek. But deep down, I felt an overwhelming, incredible sense of freedom. I bent down and picked up the papers. Without giving him a single glance, I turned around and walked toward the front door. Paul’s threat echoed behind me. “Tessa, the second you step through that door, do not even think about crawling back to me!” I did not stop. I walked out of the house that had become my personal hell, and I never looked back. “Oh my god, finally! Congratulations, Professor! You finally got rid of that miserable old hag!” Lexi kissed Paul’s jawline affectionately. “So, when are you going to marry me?” Paul did not answer. He stared blankly at the door Tessa had just walked through. His heart suddenly felt incredibly heavy. He did not believe she would actually leave him. Years ago, a speeding motorcycle had almost hit him on the street. She threw herself in front of him without a second thought. She loved him enough to die for him. How could she possibly abandon him? He was absolutely certain. Tessa would come crawling back, crying and begging for his forgiveness. He just had to wait for it. That was what he told himself. But that night, Paul could not sleep a single wink. His mind kept replaying the image of Tessa’s back as she walked out the door. When morning finally broke, his phone rang aggressively on the nightstand. He snatched it up, hoping to hear her voice. It was not Tessa. “Paul, all hell just broke loose! You need to get to the university campus right now!”

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Yesterday, something impossible happened: my wife, dead for three years, was in a car accident. It took me back to that night three years ago, her birthday. I came home early and caught a sweet, musky scent as I entered. Following it to the bedroom, I found her and my assistant, Mark, in our bed. I can still hear Mark pant, “God, Hannah, you’re incredible,” and Hannah’s throaty laugh, “What if Nathan walked in? He’s a spineless loser, just like his son. Soon I’ll leave him with nothing.” Hannah never woke up the next morning. I fired Mark in her name, blacklisting him for good. I told her parents she was on a long-term assignment and handled all her work myself, claiming she was traveling for business. When they wanted to see her, I used deepfake calls. I kept her things just as she left them. Hannah was a loner, and I ran the company daily—so no one suspected a thing. With the company now mine, life became more stable than ever. I planned to announce she’d gone missing out of state once my position was secure, and bury the truth forever. I never imagined an accident like yesterday’s could happen. 1 The name flashing on my phone screen made me freeze. It was my father-in-law. He never called this late. The moment I answered, his voice, ragged with tears, shattered the silence. “Nathan! It’s Hannah! There’s been an accident!” “A car crash! She’s… she’s not going to make it. You have to get here, now!” My head felt like it had been split open with a sledgehammer. Hannah, in a car accident? How? Three years ago, I pressed the pillow over her face myself. I watched her legs kick and thrash, and then I watched them go still. I dragged her body into the backyard and dug for four straight hours under the old magnolia tree, my hands raw and bleeding. There was no possible way she could have been in a car accident. “Nathan? Nathan, are you listening to me?!” His voice rose to a panicked shriek. “She rear-ended a semi on the highway! The car… it burned! She’s burned all over! You have to come!” “They’ve taken her to City General, the doctors said…” He couldn’t finish, breaking down into ragged sobs. My brain was a screaming, overloaded machine. A cold sweat slicked my palms. Hannah died three years ago. Who was this “Hannah” lying in the hospital? Why was her father so certain it was her? Was it a case of mistaken identity? Or… had someone found out? “Daddy?” Noah was standing in the bedroom doorway, rubbing his eyes. I hadn’t even realized he’d woken up. “Daddy, why are you crying? What’s wrong with Mommy?” Only then did I feel the wet tracks on my own cheeks. I scrubbed them away, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. “It’s nothing, buddy. Mommy… Mommy had a little accident. Daddy has to go see her.” “Is Mommy going to die?” he asked, his voice small. “No,” I said, crouching to hug him tight. “Mommy’s not going to die. I’ll take you to see her, okay?” I couldn’t leave him here alone. If the truth came out, if the police came… what would happen to Noah if they took me away? As I led him out the front door, I glanced back at the magnolia tree in the yard. The highways were empty in the pre-dawn gloom. I floored it, my mind racing, replaying every detail of the last three years. The hundreds of deepfake videos I’d made, sent to her parents every month like clockwork. The employees, all believing Hannah was managing a branch office in another state. The few times someone asked, I’d just say she was busy, that she hated talking on the phone. She was always antisocial anyway, with no close friends and distant relatives she never saw. There were no holes. I’d gone over it a hundred times. There were no holes. So why was there a “Hannah” in the hospital? Why did her father think it was her? A terrible thought wormed its way into my mind. What if… what if I didn’t kill her three years ago? Impossible. I saw her face turn from crimson to a deathly purple. I saw her pupils dilate. I saw her chest go still. I checked for a pulse in her neck. There was nothing. She was dead. The sky was just beginning to lighten as I pulled into the City General parking garage. I parked the car, gently woke Noah, and we ran towards the emergency building. The moment we stepped into the lobby, a figure lunged at me, grabbing my arm in a vice grip. 2 It was my mother-in-law, Martha, her eyes red and swollen. “Nathan! What happened? Why was Hannah driving home in the middle of the night?” she shrieked. “Did you two fight? Did you force her to come back?!” “Martha, I didn’t…” I started, a reflex denial. “You didn’t? Then why would she risk her life driving back at this hour?!” Her words were like shrapnel, spitting with rage. “Tell me! What did you say to her?!” “I didn’t say anything,” I stammered, my voice trembling. “She… she didn’t tell me she was coming back.” “Bullshit!” she screamed, shoving me away. Noah, terrified, burst into tears and clung to my leg. I bent down to scoop him into my arms just as my father-in-law, Arthur, hurried over. He grabbed his wife’s arm. “Martha, stop it, you’re scaring the boy! Why are you yelling at him?” “Why am I yelling?” she shrieked, pointing a trembling finger at me. “Ask him! Ask him what he did to our daughter to make her drive like a maniac in the middle of the night!” “It was me,” Arthur said quietly. We all froze. He wiped a tear from his eye. “I texted her… I told her you were having heart pains, that she should come home when she had a chance…” Martha’s mouth hung open. “We haven’t seen her in three years, Martha,” he whispered. “Nathan, it’s my fault. Your mother’s been having chest pains, I got scared…” “That’s enough,” a voice cut in. A doctor in scrubs emerged from the ICU, his face grim. “Who is the patient’s family?” “Me! I’m her father!” Arthur rushed forward. “Doctor, how is my daughter?” The doctor sighed. “The patient has extensive burns over most of her body and severe head trauma. She’s in a deep coma. The chances of her waking up are very slim. You need to prepare yourselves.” Arthur’s legs gave out, and he crumpled to the floor. “You can go in and see her,” the doctor added, “but don’t stay long.” I helped Arthur to his feet and we walked into the ICU. I saw the person on the bed. She was wrapped head to toe in white gauze, her face completely obscured. A web of tubes snaked from her body to the machines beside the bed, which beeped in a steady, rhythmic pulse. But the frame… My pupils constricted. The height, the build… it was Hannah’s, exactly. How could two people in the world look so identical? Unless… An insane, impossible thought detonated in my mind, making my scalp crawl. Just then, the door to the room swung open again. “Well, look at this. Quite the party.” The voice was a needle, stabbing into the base of my skull. I whipped my head around. It was Mark, someone I hadn’t seen in years. And he had two police officers with him. “Long time no see, Nate,” he said with a lazy smile. My blood ran cold. “What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice dry. “I’ve told you a dozen times, I don’t know why Hannah cut you off.” For three years, Mark had been hounding me, always for the same reason: he wanted to see Hannah. “Oh, I know,” he said, tilting his head. “Imagine my surprise when I spotted Hannah’s car in Ridgefield. I followed her, thought I’d ask her myself.” His gaze slid past me. “Turned out I got a front-row seat to watch her plow into the back of a semi.” He paused, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. “But here’s the thing, Nate. A person burned this badly… completely unrecognizable… how can anyone prove it’s really Hannah?” My heart plummeted. Arthur spun around from the bedside. “What are you trying to say?!” “Easy there, sir,” Mark said, strolling forward. “I just think, with something this serious, it’s better to be sure. After all…” His eyes locked onto mine. “What if the person in that bed… isn’t Hannah at all?” 3 “You son of a bitch!” Arthur lunged, ready to tear him apart. “That’s my daughter! I saw the license plate! It was her car! You think I don’t know my own daughter’s car?” In that instant, my heart stopped. That car. Two years ago, I sold that car for a pittance to a shady used-car dealer from out of state. He’d promised me he was shipping it across the country, that it would never be seen in this city again. And now, here it was. My eyes were drawn back to the bandaged figure in the bed. “Nate?” Mark’s voice snapped me back to reality. “You look a little pale. Feeling okay?” He stared at me, his smile widening. “Something on your conscience?” He’d suspected for a long time. The way Hannah had cut him off so abruptly… it was my one oversight. “The only thing on my conscience is not firing the scumbag who was sleeping with my wife sooner,” I shot back, my voice dripping with scorn, even as my heart hammered against my ribs. “I’m just… worried about Hannah.” “Worried?” Mark scoffed. “Officer, don’t you think my suggestion is worth considering?” One of the officers stepped forward. “Sir, we are currently unable to confirm the victim’s identity. We will need a DNA sample for comparison. We hope you’ll cooperate.” “No!” Arthur’s voice was a raw scream. “That is my daughter! I don’t need any test! Why won’t you believe me?” “Sir, please, calm down,” Mark said, his voice deceptively gentle as he approached Arthur. “Just think about it. The woman in that bed… what if it’s someone else? What if Hannah is perfectly fine somewhere?” His words were slick, impossible to argue with. “Mark, what is your game?” I demanded, my voice turning to ice. “The truth is, I haven’t been able to contact Hannah.” Mark turned back to me, his smile wide and predatory. “I’m just trying to help, Nate.” “The victim was brought in with no identification,” the officer stated. “Enough!” Martha grabbed her husband’s arm. “Have you lost your mind? The officer is right! How can we be sure it’s her without a test?” She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving. “What if… what if it’s really not her?” I stood at the foot of the bed, my heart pounding like a war drum. “I’ll do it,” Martha said, her jaw set. “Whether it’s her or not, we need to know for sure.” “Martha!” Arthur cried out. “Are you crazy? That’s our daughter! Can’t you see?” She wrenched her arm free. “I won’t claim a daughter I can’t even recognize! Officer, what do you need? A blood sample? I’ll cooperate.” “No need.” A cold sweat was drenching my back, but I had to speak. If the DNA didn’t match, they’d know this “Hannah” was a fake. The police would dig deeper. They’d trace the car. They’d investigate Hannah’s whereabouts for the last three years. My entire house of cards would be blown away. Either way, I was finished. Then, a desperate, insane idea flashed in my mind. If I could hide her death for three years, why couldn’t I find someone to impersonate her now? If “Hannah” called, if she told them herself that the woman in the bed wasn’t her, they would have to believe it was all a mistake. After that, Hannah could go back to being “on assignment” indefinitely. All I needed was a voice. A raspy, indistinct voice. “I said, there’s no need!” I raised my voice. “That’s not Hannah. You think I don’t know my own wife?” I looked at Martha, pleading. “I wouldn’t be mistaken.” Martha stared back, her expression unreadable. “Mom, it’s not her. We don’t need a test.” As I argued, I was secretly texting my cousin. Code red. Need a woman, one with a bad cold preferably, to call my phone NOW. Pretend to be Hannah. Say she’s out of state, lost her phone, tell family not to worry. Five grand if she does it. 4 My palms were drenched when I sent the message. “And how would you know that?” Arthur’s voice cut in. I looked up and met his gaze. My stomach dropped. His eyes weren’t filled with grief. They were filled with something else. Something that looked like hatred. “Dad, I told you, that’s not Hannah,” I said, my voice wavering. “How are you so sure?” He took a step closer. “I raised her for thirty years. You’ve only been married to her for a few. She hasn’t been home much these last years, how do you know she hasn’t changed?” My mouth was dry. I couldn’t answer. He was right. I hadn’t seen Hannah in three years. Because I had buried her in the backyard. “It’s… a feeling,” I mumbled. Arthur let out a cold laugh. “Nathan, my wife carried that girl for nine months. I could recognize her with my eyes closed. I say that’s Hannah. What gives you the right to say it isn’t?” He stood by the bed, his hands gripping the metal rail like a caged animal protecting its young. But there was no grief in his eyes. It was all wrong. My mind was a chaotic mess. “That’s enough!” Martha’s voice broke through the fog. “What are you two arguing about? The police are here! We’ll do what they say!” She turned to the officer, but Arthur spoke first. “Do it,” he said, his voice suddenly calm. “Let the boy do the test.” Noah flinched in my arms. “Use Noah for the DNA test. He’s young, he’ll bounce back quick.” Arthur’s voice was cold. “When the results come in, that’s the end of it. No more arguments.” All the blood drained from my body. “Dad! Noah’s only six!” I choked out. “It’s just a blood draw, not a death sentence. He’s not that fragile,” Arthur said dismissively. “So what’s your solution? Your mother’s too old for this stress, and I have a clotting disorder. Are you saying we just don’t do the test because you say it isn’t Hannah? Nathan, what are you so afraid of?” Just then, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A blocked number. My heart leaped into my throat. “Hold on,” I said, pulling out the phone. The room fell silent. I answered. “Nathan?” “Hannah?!” I yelled, forcing a sob into my voice. “Where are you?” “I’m out of state. I lost my phone, just got a new SIM. Don’t worry about me.” Martha’s eyes lit up. Arthur’s face fell. Mark’s smile froze. The fake Hannah’s voice was raspy and full of static, the connection conveniently bad. “I’m fine. How are Mom and Dad? Are they feeling better?” Martha snatched the phone from my hand, her own hand shaking. “Hannah? Is that you, baby?” “It’s me, Mom.” Martha’s eyes instantly filled with tears. “Oh, thank God… thank God it’s not you…” She wiped her eyes and turned to the officers. “You hear that? My daughter is fine. The person in that bed… we don’t know her. Please, help find her family.” Arthur stood rooted to the spot, his face ashen, his lips pressed into a thin line. He was staring at my phone. My heart was pounding, but I kept my face a mask of calm relief. It worked. As long as the police believed that was Hannah on the phone, this would all go away. My secret would stay buried under the magnolia tree. “Wait a minute.” Mark’s voice cut through the fragile peace. He held out his hand. “Nate, give me the phone.” “Why?” I instinctively hid it behind my back. “Because this is all a little too convenient,” he said, a smirk playing on his lips. “She says she’s Hannah, so she’s Hannah? Hell, I could say I’m Hannah. Let me ask her a few questions.” He took a step forward. “The truth will out, right?” “Mark, you’re crossing a line!” I snapped, my voice shaking. “Am I?” he cocked his head. “Why so nervous, Nate? It’s just a few questions. Unless…” His gaze drilled into me. “Unless you know damn well the person on the other end of this line isn’t Hannah at all.” The air turned to ice. “Nathan,” Martha said, the relief on her face curdling into suspicion. “Let him ask. It’s better to be sure. For everyone’s peace of mind.” Mark snatched the phone. “Hello? Hannah? It’s Mark. Remember me?” There was a two-second pause. “I remember.” “You do?” Mark’s smile was pure poison. “Then do you remember what you said to me on the night of your birthday, three years ago?” My heart seized. That night. The night I found them in our bed. “Don’t remember, Hannah?” Mark’s voice was a singsong taunt. “You told me a lot of things that night.” “I don’t remember. I was drunk.” “Drunk?” Mark laughed. “But Hannah, you’re allergic to alcohol. You never drink.”

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I had some cash to burn recently, so I decided to buy myself an Anthro girlfriend. After shopping around, I picked one that was a real knockout, but her temper was atrocious. She didn’t treat me like her master at all; I felt like I’d been scammed. The other day, I tried to sneak a kiss. She pawed me so hard I went flying. That was the last straw. I snapped a picture of her looking feral and sent it to the seller, demanding a refund. The seller’s reply left me speechless. “Bro, are you kidding me?” He insisted they were a legitimate business that only sold domesticated, artificially bred Anthros. Then he told me what I had was a wild-caught, pure-blooded, hyper-aggressive, endangered Silver-Eyed Direwolf. He said if she was missing so much as a single hair, I could get ten years in prison. He even asked if my picture was AI-generated. Panicked, I immediately withdrew my refund request. When I looked back, Lyra, having just finished her “kneel in the corner” punishment, was dabbing at a scrape with a cotton swab. 1 “So, uh, are you free this weekend?” “I was thinking we could go to the lake out on the plains, see the migratory birds return…” Lyra was a handful. I’d been patiently following online training guides for three months, and she hadn’t shown a lick of progress. She couldn’t master the basics—handshakes, hugs, kisses—and she was prone to explosive mood swings, constantly yelling at me. “You’re using three carrots as positive reinforcement?” she’d snarled one day. “What kind of Anthro do you think I am? You might as well use chocolate, you cheapskate!” Well, chocolate is expensive! I barely even buy it for myself! But seeing her fur practically stand on end, I gritted my teeth and unwrapped a piece for her. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and tossed it straight into the trash. This little monster. When I bought her, I’d been so careful. I grilled the salesperson, confirming my order was for a tall, stable-tempered, vegetarian Canine-type Anthro with strong protective instincts and an aptitude for “intimate services.” The only thing they got right was “tall.” The rest was a catastrophic failure of product description. This was my first time adopting an Anthro, and I was at my wit’s end. I decided to ask my friend, Ryan, who had more experience. Ryan was my biological parents’ adopted son. When they finally found me and brought me home, they insisted we get along. He was surprisingly enthusiastic when I told him my problem. “Canine-types are usually super loyal and clingy,” he’d said over the phone. “They have a high need for intimacy. Aversion to touch like you’re describing is really rare. I’ll have to come over and see for myself to give you proper advice.” Ryan arrived just after Lyra and I had another massive fight. According to Anthro regulations, her breed was classified as high-risk, meaning she had to wear a collar and muzzle whenever she went outside. But she fought me tooth and nail over them, so much so that she hadn’t set foot outside the house since she arrived. This time, she’d thrown a tantrum because I wouldn’t let her out, chewing up the sofa and my slippers. After trashing the living room, she’d stormed off to her room to sulk. I was still cleaning up the mess when Ryan arrived, looking grimy and disheveled next to his immaculate, designer-clad form. The air seemed to smell better just from him walking through it. “Why do you have so many vegetables and carrots lying around?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. “Canine-types don’t eat this stuff. No wonder she’s so irritable. She’s starving.” With a look of profound pity, Ryan went and coaxed Lyra out of her room. “I brought you some bluefin tuna and black truffle foie gras. Come on out and eat!” I rushed to stop him. “No, she’s a vegetarian model! The brochure said she’s a specially bred variety, more eco-friendly and low-maintenance.” But my words were lost as Lyra started gobbling down the gourmet food. Usually, getting her to eat was like trying to move a mountain. “That’s just marketing talk,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “They tell you the upkeep is low so you’ll buy faster. But an Anthro is part of the family. If you’re going to get one, you have to treat them right. If you’re afraid of spending money, you shouldn’t have gotten one in the first place.” I stayed silent. He was right. I’d bought her because the salesperson promised she was “easy to care for.” After the initial purchase, I barely had any savings left. Ryan then proceeded to lecture me about leaving chocolate out, restricting her freedom, and neglecting her “high-end grooming needs”—all things the brochure had explicitly said weren’t necessary. Lyra, however, seemed to hang on his every word. When Ryan casually patted her head, she didn’t even flinch. As he was leaving, Ryan saw my dejected look and offered one last piece of advice. “If you want an Anthro to accept you as their master, you need to build an emotional bond. It’s not just about spending money on them. Your own charm is important, too. You have to make her like you. Only then will she want to be close to you.” I decided to give his advice a shot. I made extensive preparations. After work today, I didn’t go straight home. I went to a spa. I got a full-body skin treatment, had my hair professionally styled, and even paid for a complete wardrobe makeover. When I got home, Lyra’s jaw dropped. “Are you… Alex?” I beamed. “Can’t recognize me? Total transformation, right?” She just shrugged. “I thought Ryan had a botched cosmetic procedure.” I ignored her rudeness and got busy with dinner. Tonight was all cold dishes: ice plant salad, cucumber, and cherry tomatoes. I shut the lights, lit some scented candles, and changed into a black silk robe I’d bought online. The atmosphere was different. Lyra still had her usual scowl, but this time, she didn’t flip the table. Heartened, I picked up a cherry tomato and held it to her lips. “These are expensive. Imported from Provence.” She stared at me like I was an idiot for a full three seconds before sighing and taking a bite. This was huge progress! I coaxed her into eating the ice plant and cucumber. “You’ll see, once you get used to it, vegetables are much better for you. More importantly,” I confessed, “I’m broke. I spent the entire settlement my parents gave me. From now on, your expenses have to come out of my monthly salary. And I’m just an intern.” Lyra froze. She met my honest, sincere gaze and mumbled, “I get it.” My eyes crinkled into happy crescents. I pressed my luck and stroked her hand. “Lyra, you’re a companion-type Anthro. It’s your duty to serve me.” The faint blush on her cheeks vanished, replaced by an icy glare. “Serve you? What kind of service? Alex, what exactly do you think I am?” “Family,” I answered, my voice utterly serious. Three months ago, my biological parents contacted me out of the blue. I went to meet them full of hope, dragging a suitcase packed with gifts. They weren’t nearly as excited to see me. Probably because they already had an adopted son they’d raised for years. His name was Ryan, so they named me Alex. Ryan didn’t want to live under the same roof as me, so my parents rented me a separate villa and gave me a one-time payment of five million dollars as compensation. “Alex, we’re so happy we found you,” my mother had said. “But Ryan and you both need time to adjust. He came to us when he was two, he was with me through my hardest times. In my heart, he’s just as much my son as you are. I hope you can understand.” I just nodded, clutching my suitcase. I had arrived alone, and I left alone. On my way back, I passed an Anthro service center. A slogan on the billboard caught my eye: “Loyalty for Life, Companionship Forever.” Even though I suspected it was false advertising, I was sold. I just wanted someone, anyone, who would always be on my side. So I spent every last cent of the five million on their top-of-the-line model. The next day, they delivered Lyra to my doorstep. I was so happy. Two people, that was a family. I never expected her to be so difficult, but she was a gift I’d bought for myself in a moment of desperation. I wasn’t going to give up on her easily. “Lyra, I really do see you as family,” I said softly. “I’ve always been alone, so I don’t really know how to take care of someone. I know I mess up a lot. But I really like you, and all I want is for you to be happy.” The anger seemed to drain out of her. Her pointed, furry ears popped out involuntarily, and she quickly stood up. “You’re just a kid, what do you know? Stop talking nonsense!” She started to walk away, then turned back. “You can come into my room tonight.” For three months, we had slept in separate rooms. The purchase agreement had listed a whole menu of… services. But Lyra had rejected all physical contact, so I’d never tried any of them. Now she was inviting me into her room. Did this mean she was finally starting to accept me? I happily cleared the table, took a shower, and even put on cologne. When I entered her room, she was already asleep, her phone resting on her chest. Asleep, her features were soft and peaceful. She looked more vulnerable, like a puppy showing its belly. She was so beautiful. I had to admit, her flawless face was a big reason I’d put up with her for so long. The mood was perfect. I couldn’t resist leaning in and placing a soft kiss on the corner of her mouth. She smelled faintly of fresh grass, a scent that made you want to taste more… I thought things were progressing naturally. Then I was one-pawed clear across the room, landing in a heap on the floor. “What do you think you’re doing, you creep?!” she roared, leaping off the bed. “Is this why you let me into my room? Alex, have you no shame?” She was furious, but she shut up fast when she saw me grab the broom. “It wasn’t even that hard a hit!” she protested. I was done talking. I swung the broom and gave her a piece of my mind. The thought of the five million dollars I’d wasted on this creature made my heart ache. “I have had it with you!” I yelled. “I should have bought a pot roast instead! I’m done with you! Let’s just end this!” I was out of shape and ran out of breath after a few swings, so I herded her into a corner with the broom. “Kneel! And think about who’s the boss in this house! I can tolerate you being disobedient, but now you’re physically attacking me? Who do you think you are?” Thankfully, she didn’t fight back this time, just knelt there muttering under her breath. “It was a reflex… I thought it was an ambush…” My backside was still throbbing, but my mind was clear. Family was supposed to be someone who would never hurt you, who would stay by your side willingly. It was a nice idea, but you couldn’t just buy it off a shelf. Besides, I couldn’t afford her upkeep anymore. It was time to cut my losses. I went to the service center’s website, uploaded the photo of Lyra in a rage, and filed a strongly-worded complaint. “I paid five million for your top-tier model and you sent me this? You advertised a genius IQ, the emotional intelligence of a saint, and total obedience. I tried to kiss her and she nearly sent me to the ER! I want a full refund, or I’m reporting you for false advertising and fraud!” A reply came back almost instantly. “Bro, are you kidding me? We’re a legitimate business. We only sell domesticated, artificially-bred Anthros. What you have is a wild-caught, pure-blooded, hyper-aggressive, endangered Silver-Eyed Direwolf. If she’s missing so much as a single hair, you could get ten years in prison! Is this an AI-generated pic?” My blood ran cold. I glanced over at Lyra. The fight had taken the wind out of her sails. She was quietly applying antiseptic to a small cut on her arm. Another message came through. “All our units have a unique serial number tattooed on their lower back. If you really bought from us, send me the number and I can look up her file.” I ran over to Lyra and, without a word, yanked up her shirt. This time, even her tail popped out—a big, fluffy one. “Alex, calm down! No, really! Humans are too fragile, you can’t handle me yet… If you insist, we have to take it slow!” I wasn’t listening. My eyes were glued to the pale, smooth skin of her lower back. It was completely bare. Nothing. So, I’d accidentally adopted a Direwolf. That explained a lot. I messaged the seller again. “How long does a custom order usually take?” “Three to six months, depending on the price point.” … “Right. I was just getting impatient. Checking on the delivery status.” Oh, hell. It wasn’t a scam. It was my own screw-up. Thinking back, Lyra had been lying unconscious on my doorstep. I’d just brought her inside, gave her water, and when she woke up, I insisted I was her master and refused to let her leave. That wasn’t adoption. That was illegal poaching of an endangered species. A shiver went down my spine. I looked at Lyra, my voice barely a whisper. “So, uh, are you free this weekend?” “For what?” To release you back into the wild, you majestic idiot! Go back to nature and stop getting tangled up with humans! “I was thinking we could go to the lake out on the plains, see the migratory birds return…” Since we were driving straight into the wilderness, I didn’t force her to wear the collar and muzzle. To make sure she couldn’t find her way back to get revenge, I drove for three solid days, deep into the mountains, ignoring the screaming price of gas. Maybe it was because she hadn’t seen the sun in so long, but Lyra was in a great mood the whole trip. She even helped me pitch the tent and cook. On the third night, I parked the car where I could make a quick getaway and we set up camp in a small cave. We built a campfire, and Lyra made her usual instant noodles. The firelight danced on her face, making her look warm and bright. I felt a pang of sadness. “You haven’t acted up once since we left the house.” “I only acted up because you were starving me and wouldn’t let me outside.” “And you haven’t bitten me, either!” I said, feeling a strange sense of pride. If she’d really wanted to leave, I couldn’t have stopped her. Lyra paused, stirring the noodles. “I was afraid you’d cry,” she said quietly. “The first time I tried to leave, you started crying…” I remembered that. Of course I cried! My five-million-dollar investment was walking out the door! When she wasn’t having a meltdown, Lyra was actually pretty great. She had an incredible sense of direction, could predict the weather, knew the terrain, and could set traps to scare off large predators. And she was strong as an ox. Having her around made me feel safe. But she was a wild Anthro. She belonged to nature. “Compared to being bored in a mansion with me, you prefer this, don’t you? The open sky, running free.” Lyra nodded. “Without freedom, safety has no meaning.” A knot formed in my chest. I curled into a ball and rolled around on the ground, groaning dramatically. “Noodles but no barbecue! This is a tragedy! I can’t bear it!” “There’s beef jerky and spicy pickles in the car.” “No! I need fresh barbecue! Roast chicken, roast rabbit, roast lamb… I even brought the cumin!” I sniffled, looking pathetic. Lyra watched my theatrics for a moment, then sighed. “Wait in the car. Don’t wander off. I’ll go catch something for you.” Wow! A Direwolf hunt! How cool is that! Then it hit me. This was my chance. I paced anxiously for a few minutes before making up my mind. It was time to fix my mistake. She could take care of herself in the wild. Without me holding her back, she’d find her family. And I was breaking a serious law. If this ever came out, I’d be screwed. Half an hour later, Lyra returned to the campfire carrying a leg of lamb she had already cleaned in a nearby stream. All she found was endless darkness and a pile of cold ashes.

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Three years after my release, Sebastian Wheeler returned, more obsessed than ever. He used threats, bribes, and finally, locked me inside. The most absurd moment came when he brought Isabelle, the woman he’d left me for, to kneel before me. “Nora,” Sebastian said, his voice thick with false grief, “Ollie is gone. Will you keep holding a grudge against us forever?” Isabelle chimed in, “We want to make it up to you!” Their words twisted the truth like needles. I snapped, my hand striking his face. “Make it up to me? How dare you? If you hadn’t stolen Ollie’s life-saving medicine for her daughter, Sophie, he would still be alive. Is this your idea of making amends? Framing me and letting me rot in prison for three years?” Sebastian’s eyes flickered. “But I love you,” he stammered. “You were so emotional back then—I was afraid you’d hurt them.” I laughed bitterly. Love? The same love that killed my son and sent me to prison? If that’s how he defined love, I could play by the same rules. I met his eyes, full of hope and guilt, and replied calmly, “Fine. I’ll remarry you.” 1 “No!” The word shot out the moment I finished speaking. Isabelle, still kneeling, jerked her head up, her voice a sharp cry. Sebastian’s gaze shifted to her. She quickly backpedaled. “I just… I’m afraid Sophie won’t be able to handle it.” “If you and Nora remarry, what does that make Sophie? An illegitimate child? She’s so young… I don’t care about my own reputation, but Sophie…” Isabelle’s voice trailed off as tears began to stream down her face, a perfectly calculated performance. It worked. Sebastian’s expression softened with pity. Just as he was about to reconsider, I spoke again. “That’s an easy fix.” “From now on, Sophie can call me ‘Mom’.” “That way, you and I will have a child again, won’t we, Sebastian?” He stared at me, stunned for a moment. Then, his eyes lit up with a manic glee. “Yes! Of course!” “Nora, Ollie’s gone, but we still have Sophie. And besides, you’re her aunt, after all!” Isabelle was dumbfounded. She had assumed my pride would never let me agree to remarry him, which is why she’d put on this show of kneeling beside him. She never imagined I would accept Sophie, too. Her tears fell harder. “No, you can’t!” she sobbed. “Sebastian, Sophie is my child. How can you let her call someone else ‘Mother’?” I smiled. I reached out and gently wiped a tear from her cheek. “Because,” I whispered, “you killed my child. As compensation, your daughter calling me ‘Mother’ seems more than fair.” I turned and extended my hand to the still-kneeling Sebastian. “Do you agree, Sebastian? If you do, we’ll get remarried. I’ll even forgive you and Isabelle. We can be a happy family again.” The ecstatic relief in his eyes was sickening. He scrambled to his feet, grabbing my hand. “Yes! Of course, I agree!” “Let’s go. Let’s do it now!” He spoke quickly, terrified I might change my mind. He practically shoved me into his car and sped toward the courthouse. In the rearview mirror, I caught a glimpse of Isabelle in the back seat, her face a thundercloud of fury. I could almost taste her bitterness. After everything she’d done to drive me away, to use my son’s death to finally break up my marriage, I had agreed to come back so easily. Her venomous gaze shifted. She pulled out her phone and tapped out two quick messages. A moment later, she cried out from the back seat. “Sebastian, something’s wrong!” “The doctor just called! Sophie’s condition has gotten worse! We have to get to the hospital, now!” “What?!” Sebastian slammed on the brakes. Without even a glance in my direction, he spun the car around and raced towards the hospital. A private doctor was waiting anxiously by the entrance. He jogged over as we pulled up. “Mr. Wheeler, her condition is very unstable. The research on this disease is limited in this country, we don’t have many options… Dr. Shaw?” The doctor looked at me as if he knew me. His face lit up. “Wait, Dr. Shaw, you specialize in this field, don’t you?” He turned back to Sebastian. “Mr. Wheeler, now that Dr. Shaw is out of prison, why not have her take over Sophie’s case? Your son… he passed from the same illness. Dr. Shaw must have done extensive research.” I almost laughed. The same old trick. Isabelle was using her child again to play the victim, to paint me as the villain. As I was thinking, Isabelle dropped to her knees in front of me again, her cries tearing through the quiet hospital entrance. “Nora, I’m begging you. Please, save Sophie. I know I was wrong before. I’ll be your servant for the rest of my life, you can torture me, do whatever you want to get your revenge! But the child is innocent! If not for my sake, then for Sebastian’s. She’s his child, too! Please!” Her performance was flawless. Sebastian, of course, fell for it. “Nora, the doctor has a point. Let’s just put the past behind us. You can be in charge of Sophie’s treatment…” Crack! My hand flew out, and the sound of the slap stunned everyone into silence. But I hadn’t hit Isabelle. I hadn’t hit Sebastian. I had slapped the doctor, hard, across the face. “Who gave you permission to say Ollie’s name?” I roared, my voice raw with fury. “You’re another useless quack! You couldn’t save Ollie then, and you can’t save Sophie now?” I slapped him again, a backhand blow that sent him sprawling to the ground. He looked up, bewildered, his eyes darting to Isabelle. This wasn’t what she had told him in the text. He was just supposed to shift the responsibility to me, to push Sebastian’s buttons until I caved. Why was I attacking him? I didn’t stop. I kicked, I punched, and then I went for his throat. “Quack! Fraud! You’re all in on it!” I screamed. “You killed my Ollie, and now you’re trying to kill me!” The doctor’s face turned purple, and he began to choke, gasping for air. “Ma’am, I’m sorry!” he wheezed. “It was Isabelle! She told me to say Sophie’s condition was worse, to make you the primary physician! I had no choice, I just work here, I can’t afford to get on her bad side! I have the text messages on my phone! Please, let me go!” Slowly, I released my grip. I reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and used his terrified face to unlock it. There it was. Tell Sebastian that Sophie’s condition is worse. Get him to make that bitch her primary physician. We’ll figure out the rest later. I held the glowing screen up for Sebastian to see. Isabelle’s face went white. She grabbed his pant leg, wailing, “Sebastian, no! Let me explain! I was just so worried about Sophie! Think about it, Nora developed a targeted drug for Ollie when he was so sick. If she treated Sophie, it would be so much more effective! I swear, I was only thinking of what was best for Sophie!” Sebastian’s expression was a twisted knot of confusion and anger, his eyes fixed on the word bitch. He was silent for a long time. Just as he was about to help the sniveling Isabelle to her feet, another pair of hands beat him to it. Mine. I leaned down and gently helped Isabelle up, a sweet smile on my face. “Of course I believe you, little sister. After all, you must trust me so much. You conspired with Sebastian to steal Ollie’s life-saving medicine for Sophie, leading to my son’s death. And yet, here you are, willing to entrust your own daughter to me, the mother who has every reason to want revenge.” My voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “You must trust that I won’t take this opportunity to torture her, to maim her… to kill her, do you?” Isabelle was so terrified she forgot to cry. She just stared at me as if I were a monster. I even reached out and stroked her hair. “Just kidding,” I said, my voice eerily cheerful. “With me around, Sophie won’t die so easily.” I turned back to Sebastian, my smile radiant. “Sebastian, let me be Sophie’s doctor. Don’t worry. I will do everything in my power to keep her alive.” Seeing that I was not only willing to forgive him but also to save Sophie, Sebastian was overjoyed. He agreed instantly. Isabelle, however, finally found her voice. “No! You can’t go near her!” she shrieked, grabbing my arm. “You’re insane, you’ll kill her! You’re trying to get revenge on me!” She tugged at me so hard I stumbled. Sebastian caught me, shoving Isabelle away. “What are you doing? I haven’t even dealt with you about that text message. Now Nora has agreed, and you’re the one backing out?” Isabelle could only point at me, speechless. I leaned against Sebastian, my eyes welling with tears, a perfect picture of fragile vulnerability. It was a mirror image of the act she had pulled on me so many times over the years. The sight seemed to drive her mad. She dug her nails into her palms, drawing blood, before she managed to compose herself. “I’m sorry, Nora,” she said through gritted teeth. “I was just so emotional. I didn’t mean it.” I was still smiling, but my eyes were ice. “It’s okay, little sister. I just got out of prison. It’s natural for you to be excited to see me. I’m excited, too. We have… a long time to catch up.” With that, I stepped away from Sebastian and pushed open the door to Sophie’s room. The girl looked at me with the same terror as her mother, but with Sebastian in the room, she had no choice but to let me examine her. I glanced at her latest chart. “Sophie’s condition is critical. She needs surgery immediately. Any delay will only make things worse. Let’s schedule it for the day after tomorrow. I’ll perform it myself. After the surgery, she should be completely cured.” Sebastian was ecstatic. He wrapped his arms around me, his lips brushing against my cheek. “Nora, this is wonderful! Thank you! I knew you’d still be willing to save her!” Only Isabelle glared at me, her face a mask of pure hatred, forced to smile through her rage. It was only then that I realized it. Being the villain… felt so damn good. Later that evening, after I had settled in at the villa, Isabelle cornered me on the staircase. She gripped my wrist, her voice a low hiss. “What are you planning to do to Sophie? You bitch. Weren’t the people I paid to take care of you in prison enough to teach you a lesson? You get out and you’re right back to seducing Sebastian. You go to him right now and tell him the surgery is off, or I swear… I will make you pay.” I looked down at the red marks forming on my wrist and chuckled. “What are you so afraid of? There’s always a risk of death with a surgery like this. Sophie’s just unlucky to have a mother like you. So… she’ll die on the operating table. But don’t worry. Sebastian won’t be sad for long. He’s waiting for me in the master bedroom. Soon, we’ll have another child.” My blatant provocation sent her into a frenzy. “You’ll regret this!” she spat. “I’m kicking you out of this house, right now!” She dragged me to the edge of the stairs, then let go, throwing her body backward. “Aah—!” she screamed.

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The day of the concert arrived. The massive stadium was packed to the rafters with eighty thousand screaming fans, and millions more were tuned into the live stream. She stood at the dead center of the stage. The moment she raised the microphone to her lips, the backing track abruptly cut out. A suffocating silence swallowed the arena. The root of this spectacular disaster started a few days ago. My wife, the untouchable pop queen of the current music scene, built her entire empire on songs I wrote. But just days prior, she demanded I sign away the rights to every single one of those tracks. She wanted to gift them to her college sweetheart, the one that got away. When she slid that piece of paper across the kitchen island, I looked at the stranger wearing my wife’s face. A hollow laugh escaped my throat, and I gave her a two-word answer. “Sure thing.” 1 I was actually cooking for Phoebe when she pushed that Copyright Transfer Agreement into my line of sight. A rich, garlic herb chicken was slow-roasting in the oven. The warm, savory aroma filled every corner of our penthouse. It was her favorite pre-concert meal. I made it for her every single time she prepared for a big tour. “Ted, turn the oven off for a second and come sign this.” Her voice was as melodic as ever, but underneath that sweet tone lay a cold, undeniable command. I wiped my hands on a towel, walked over, and took a seat across from her. “What is this?” “A copyright transfer,” Phoebe said. Her tone was terrifyingly casual, like she was asking me to pass the salt. “I need you to transfer the publishing rights of my older tracks to Oliver.” A deafening ring echoed in my ears. All the blood rushed to my head before turning to absolute ice, leaving my fingertips numb. Oliver. That name felt like a rusted blade twisting into my ribs. He was her senior in college, the golden boy she kept buried deep in her heart and never mentioned to the press. According to her, he was the most brilliant musical mind of their generation. Three years ago, when Phoebe and I tied the knot, she was a nobody singing to empty rooms in dive bars. I loved her. I poured every ounce of my soul into writing for her, becoming her exclusive ghost producer. Echoes, Midsummer, Lone Wolf. Track after track, I dragged her out of obscurity and crowned her the reigning queen of pop. My producer alias was Cipher. I never showed my face. Everyone in the industry knew there was a mythical, gold-tier songwriter backing Phoebe, but nobody knew Cipher was actually me. To the media, I was just the freeloader husband who stayed home and lived off his superstar wife. I cooked for her. I managed the tedious background noise of her life. I made sure she had absolutely nothing to worry about so she could shine flawlessly under the spotlights. I thought that was what marriage meant. But now, she wanted me to take the children I had bled over and hand them to another man. “Why?” My throat felt like sandpaper. Phoebe looked up. Those beautiful eyes that used to pull me under were now completely devoid of warmth. “Oliver just moved back stateside. He needs a solid catalog to break into the market, and the style of your songs fits his aesthetic perfectly.” She paused, clearly sensing my silence, and tried to justify it further. “Besides, when I first met Oliver, you weren’t even in the picture. A lot of my musical inspiration came from him anyway. Technically, he deserves a piece of these tracks.” I was so furious I actually smiled. Technically deserves a piece. I stared at her perfectly contoured, ice-cold face. The last fragile thread of affection I held for this woman snapped, crumbling into dust. “So what you’re saying is, I’m just your ghostwriter?” Phoebe frowned. My reaction was clearly annoying her. “Ted, don’t twist my words. We’re married. What’s yours is mine, right? I’m just returning these songs to their rightful owner.” “Plus, giving the rights to Oliver is a win for everyone. Once his career takes off, we can all collaborate. We’ll dominate the industry together.” She dressed her betrayal up in corporate buzzwords. Every single syllable was a slap in the face, mocking the three years I spent worshipping the ground she walked on. I saw it. I saw the undeniable, glowing spark in her eyes when she said his name. It was a look she had never, ever given me. I was just a tool. A stepping stone to get her to the top. And now that her golden boy was back, the tool and everything it produced were being wrapped up with a bow and handed over as a welcome-home gift. It was hilarious. It was sickening. I stared at the paperwork. My chest tightened so hard I couldn’t pull air into my lungs. I dug my fingernails into my palms until the sharp sting forced my spiraling mind to focus. Don’t lose it. If I blow up now, she’ll just call me petty and insecure. I took a deep, jagged breath, swallowing down the bitter taste in my mouth. When I finally looked up at her, I forced a smile that felt completely alien on my face. “Sure thing,” I said. 2 Phoebe clearly didn’t expect me to cave so easily. She blinked, a flash of pure shock crossing her face before it was entirely swallowed by a raw, unfiltered greed. It was a genuine thrill she couldn’t even bother to hide. “You… you’re really signing it?” “Yeah.” I nodded, picking up the pen resting on the marble counter. “We’re a team, right? What matters to you matters to me. If this helps your career, I’m on board.” I flipped the document open as I spoke. The legal jargon was crystal clear. Party A: Ted (Cipher). Party B: Oliver. I, Ted, willingly and permanently transfer all copyrights of my published musical works to Oliver, completely free of charge. Free of charge. Permanent. She really wanted to sever my lifeline without leaving a single loophole. My heart was actively bleeding out, but I kept the gentle smile glued to my face. “Where do I sign?” I asked. A radiant, dazzling smile broke out on Phoebe’s face, one I hadn’t seen directed at me in months. She practically vibrated with excitement as she pointed to the dotted lines at the bottom. “Here, here, and initial right here.” Her voice trembled with a greedy kind of hunger. I hovered the ballpoint over the thick paper. Phoebe’s eyes were locked onto my hand. She was literally holding her breath. A freezing calm washed over my mind. Of course I wasn’t going to sign it. But I was absolutely going to let her believe I did. I faked a moment of hesitation, letting out a heavy sigh. “Phoebe, I built these tracks from the ground up. They’re like my kids. Giving them all away just feels…” She cut me off instantly. Her tone shifted, dripping with that sickly sweet, manipulative affection she only ever used when she wanted me to pull an all-nighter in the studio for her. “Babe, I know it’s hard. But think about it. Oliver is different. He’s such an important piece of my journey. Helping him is basically helping me.” She reached out, resting her manicured hand over mine, patting it softly. “Don’t worry. You can just write new hits for me, okay? We’ll go right back to how things were.” Go right back? I sneered internally. I was blind before, treating you like a goddess. That ends today. I flipped my hand over and squeezed her fingers, locking eyes with her. “You know I’d do anything for you, Phoebe.” I looked down and aggressively scribbled a signature onto the paper. It was a messy, stylized autograph that belonged to an imaginary person. It had absolutely zero legal connection to my actual name. I pushed the papers back across the island. “All done.” Phoebe snatched the documents up like they were made of solid gold. She stared at the ink, her face flushed with absolute ecstasy. She was so high on the thrill of delivering this prize to her lover that she didn’t even notice the signature was complete gibberish. “You’re the best, Ted!” She jumped up and leaned over the counter, pressing a cold, obligatory kiss to my cheek. It felt like a transaction. She grabbed her purse and the fake contract, already turning her back to me. “Eat the dinner yourself! I’m meeting up with Oliver, he’s waiting for me!” The front door slammed shut. The penthouse was dead silent again. The only sound was the oven humming, baking a meal for a ghost. The fake smile peeled off my face. I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked down at the street. I watched Phoebe peel out of the driveway in the Porsche 911 I bought for her birthday. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number. “Ford? It’s Ted.” “I need you to draft a cease and desist. I also need a complete audit of every single copyright registered under the name Cipher. Yes, the entire catalog.” “And Ford? Draw up divorce papers.” “Yeah. I want her taken to the cleaners. Leave her with nothing.” I ended the call and stared at the smoggy city skyline, letting out a long, heavy exhale. So, Phoebe. You want to throw a massive third-anniversary concert? You want to use that stage to announce Oliver as the genius behind your success? I built that glittering stage for you. I hope you enjoy the spectacular gift I’m about to drop on it. 3 Over the next few days, Phoebe played the role of the perfect, doting wife. She texted me constantly, asking what I was doing or if I had eaten. When she got home, she’d rub my shoulders for exactly ten seconds and coo about how hard I worked. She honestly believed I was entirely wrapped around her finger. She thought I was still the same pathetic Ted who lived to serve her. She had no idea that every time I looked at her fake, plastic smile, I wanted to throw up. I played along flawlessly while moving my chess pieces in the dark. Ford was a shark. He moved fast and got the paperwork finalized in record time. Under the alias Cipher, I legally owned thirty-seven tracks. Those thirty-seven tracks were the sole foundation of Phoebe’s entire net worth, brand deals, and A-list status. And ninety percent of the setlist for her upcoming stadium show consisted of my music. According to our original licensing agreement, as the sole copyright holder, I retained the absolute right to revoke her performance privileges at any time, especially if the licensee engaged in fraudulent behavior regarding my intellectual property. The trap was set. I just needed the right moment to spring it. And that moment was her grand anniversary concert. The hype was unreal. Her label and PR team were burning cash to keep her trending. “Pop Queen Phoebe’s 3rd Anniversary! A Night of Legends at the Grand Arena!” “Will the mythical producer Cipher finally show his face? Massive surprises await at Phoebe’s live show!” The internet was flooded with sponsored articles. Her team even leaked a rumor that a completely unexpected, legendary guest would step onto the stage. Naturally, the world assumed it was Cipher. Her fanbase was losing their minds. They were dying to know what kind of musical god could drop back-to-back platinum records without ever stepping into the light. Phoebe’s social media feeds were overflowing with fans begging for a reveal. [OMG Phoebe! Please bring Cipher out! I would literally die for him!] [Who is he?! The mystery is killing me. You have to put a face to the name this time!] [Manifesting a Cipher face reveal! I will trade my firstborn just to see what this man looks like!] I scrolled through the comments, feeling a twisted sense of irony. Phoebe saw them too. She brought her phone over to the couch, laughing brightly as she shoved the screen in my face. “Look at this, babe. Your fans are crazier than mine.” She leaned against my shoulder, her tone dripping with fake sweetness. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to go up there? It’s a once-in-a-lifetime moment.” I set my book down and gave her a flat look. “Didn’t you already arrange for Cipher to make an appearance?” Phoebe’s smile froze. She recovered a second later, letting out a nervous, breathy laugh. “Oh, stop. I didn’t mean Oliver, I meant you. He’s just… he’s just going to stand in for you.” “Since you hate the spotlight so much, right?” I nodded slowly. “Right. I hate the spotlight. Let him stand in for me.” Stand in for me. Soak up the deafening cheers of my fans. Steal the legacy I bled for. You’re playing a dangerous game, Phoebe. Seeing that I wasn’t going to put up a fight, she completely dropped her guard. She started parading Oliver around town without a shred of shame. Under the guise of “coordinating concert details,” the two of them were practically glued together. Paparazzi caught them having intimate dinners, shopping in luxury boutiques, and eventually, walking into the same boutique hotel. The rumors exploded. I was officially the biggest cuckold in the city, wearing a neon green hat for the world to see. My boys were blowing up my phone, furious on my behalf. “Ted, are you legally blind, man? Your girl is practically moving her side dude in, and you’re just sitting there?” “Serve her the papers! Why are you still with this toxic trash?” I just gave them the same calm answer. “Relax. The show is about to start.” The day before the concert, Phoebe and Oliver sat down for an exclusive media interview. On camera, they looked like the perfect, glamorous power couple. The interviewer leaned in. “Oliver, the streets are saying you are the mastermind behind the Cipher alias. Can you confirm the rumors?” Oliver pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, offering the camera a smug, pretentious smile. “Phoebe and I have been close for years. We understand each other’s artistic souls. You could definitely say my fingerprints are all over her discography.” He didn’t outright say he was Cipher, but the implication was heavy and deliberate. The interviewer turned to Phoebe. “And will Oliver be taking the stage tomorrow night as Cipher?” Phoebe looked at Oliver with absolute adoration. “I guess everyone will just have to buy a ticket and find out. All I can say is, tomorrow night belongs to the fans, to me, and to… Cipher.” She put a heavy, dramatic emphasis on the name. The moment the interview dropped, the internet broke. The hashtag #OliverIsCipher rocketed to the number one trending spot. Oliver’s socials gained millions of followers in a matter of hours. Thirsty fans flooded his comments, calling him a genius and a god. Phoebe’s fanbase began aggressively shipping them. [OMFG I KNEW IT! Anyone who writes songs with that much passion has to be madly in love with her!] [They look so good together. Pure soulmates!] [See? I told you that freeloader husband of hers was a bum! No way a stay-at-home loser wrote those hits. The truth is finally out!] [Wait, isn’t Phoebe still legally married to Ted?] [Who cares about a piece of paper? A loveless marriage is a prison! Go get your true love, queen!] I stared at the toxic wasteland of comments, my face completely blank. I locked my phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. Phoebe. Oliver. Enjoy your final night on top of the world. Because tomorrow, I’m dragging you both straight down to hell. 4 Concert night. The Grand Arena was packed with eighty thousand screaming bodies. A massive ocean of blue glow sticks lit up the dark venue. Fans were holding up LED signs, chanting Phoebe’s name until their throats gave out. The energy was electric. I wasn’t in the crowd. I was sitting on my leather couch at home, watching the flawless 4K live stream on my TV. The broadcast cut to a backstage cam. Phoebe was doing last-minute touch-ups. She wore a custom, diamond-encrusted bodysuit. With her flawless makeup, she looked like absolute royalty. Oliver hovered right behind her, playing the attentive partner, adjusting the sheer train of her outfit. “Deep breaths, Phoebe. You own this city tonight.” “I know.” She nodded, a blissfully arrogant smile on her lips. Brenda, her aggressive talent manager, tapped her watch. “Alright, team! Time to move. Let’s get to the lift.” She turned to Oliver. “Oliver, get to your mark. You’re up right after track three.” Oliver flashed a cocky grin. “Got it, Brenda.” He looked back at Phoebe, his eyes dark with possessiveness. “After tonight, the whole damn world is gonna know you belong to me.” Phoebe looked down, blushing like a schoolgirl. The backstage camera caught the entire exchange and beamed it live to millions of viewers. The live chat scrolling across my screen went absolutely nuclear. [HOLY SHIT! THEY JUST CONFIRMED IT!] [I’m screaming!! My ship is sailing!] [Someone get them a ring right now!!] [Can Ted just file for divorce already? He’s embarrassing himself at this point.] I watched the perfect couple on my screen, picked up my mug of hot tea, and took a slow sip. It was a great brew. Shame it was about to get cold. At exactly eight o’clock, the show began. The arena went pitch black. A single, blinding white spotlight snapped on, hitting the mechanical lift in the center of the stage. The heavy, dramatic synth intro kicked in. It was her breakout hit. Echoes. The very first track I ever produced for her. The lift slowly ascended, bringing Phoebe into the glaring light. The stadium literally shook with the deafening roar of eighty thousand fans. “Phoebe! Phoebe! Phoebe!” She gripped her custom microphone, a perfect, triumphant smile painted on her face. She took a deep breath, parting her lips to sing the opening verse. But a split second before she made a sound. With a harsh screech of static, the heavy backing track cut out completely. The entire stadium crashed into a suffocating, deeply uncomfortable silence. Everyone froze. On stage, Phoebe stood paralyzed, her microphone hovering awkwardly near her mouth, her eyes wide with panic. Backstage, the live director and audio engineers were losing their minds. “What the hell is going on?! Why did the feed cut?” “I don’t know! The rig is fine!” “Switch to the backup tracks! Move, move, move!” A few agonizing seconds later, the beat dropped again. But it only lasted two seconds before violently cutting out a second time. And this time, it wasn’t just the audio. The massive, sixty-foot LED screen wrapping the back of the stage completely blacked out. The crowd erupted into confused murmurs. “What’s happening? Did the power blow?” “No way. A show this big doesn’t just crash like this.” “Yo, look! The screen is back!” Eighty thousand pairs of eyes snapped back to the colossal digital display. The screen was stark black. Slowly, line by line, bold white text began to type itself across the monitors. [CEASE AND DESIST / NOTICE OF REVOCATION] [To: Event Organizers and Ms. Phoebe] [I, Ted (Operating professionally under the alias ‘Cipher’), acting as the sole and exclusive copyright holder of ‘Echoes’, ‘Midsummer’, ‘Lone Wolf’, and 34 other registered musical compositions, hereby issue formal notice:] [Due to severe contractual violations and blatant commercial fraud committed by Ms. Phoebe, I am officially revoking all licenses, performance rights, and distribution permissions previously granted to her, effective immediately.] [Any unauthorized public performance of my intellectual property from this second forward constitutes gross copyright infringement. I will aggressively pursue all available legal action against any offending parties.] [Signed: Ted (Cipher)] Right beneath the ruthless legal text, high-resolution scans of the official copyright certificates populated the screen. On every single document, under the ‘Legal Owner’ section, the same name was printed in bold black ink: Ted. And right next to it, under ‘Registered Alias’: Cipher.

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The apocalypse struck suddenly, plunging the world into chaos. My best friend was infected while saving me, and our group immediately threw her out of the safehouse. On night watch, guilt drove me to sneak her some canned food. But as I touched the lock, glowing text appeared in my vision. It looked like live stream comments. One warned that opening the door would let the Mother of the Infected in, getting the Male Lead bitten. Another defended me, saying I owed my friend. A third said this was a setup for romance. Without the bite, the MC would not nurse him and they would never fall in love. Someone added that after being bitten, the Male Lead lost his edge and got a prosthetic arm just to please the MC, while she lived a pampered life. I pulled my hand back. My friend was destined to become the Mother of the Infected. That sounded fierce. As for the Male Lead, maybe he would make a good midnight snack for her. 1 The comments were still rolling in. [LMAO look at the MC hesitating. What a useless damsel. She doesn’t even have the guts to open the door.] [Don’t open it! Opening it means dooming the Male Lead. Keeping it shut means they survive.] [Honestly, the best friend got done dirty. She saved the MC just to get tossed out to die. But whatever, she’s just a plot device.] I stared at the glowing lines floating past my eyes. My fingertips were still resting on the deadbolt. The lock was freezing. It made my skin look ridiculously soft and pale, completely out of place in this hellscape. It had been a month since the outbreak. These hands hadn’t lifted a single heavy supply crate. They hadn’t killed a single walker. I had barely even wrapped a bandage for anyone else. Why? Because I never had to. My best friend, Sloane, took on every single dirty, brutal job. When she was clearing out biters, I was hiding in the evacuation zone. When she was scavenging for food, I was resting in the safehouse. Even her getting thrown out to die was because she shoved me through the safehouse doors during a massive horde attack, missing her own window to get inside by a fraction of a second. She was so strong. She was so capable that everyone just assumed it was her job to protect the rest of us. And I was so weak. I was so fragile that everyone assumed I was born to be protected. My hand trembled against the cold metal. The lock clicked softly. It sounded like the door was about to swing open. “What the hell are you doing?” 2 Chris’s voice echoed behind me. I turned around. Chris had already sat up from his sleeping bag. In the dim glow of the corner emergency light, I could clearly see the impatience written all over his face. He was undeniably gorgeous. Sharp jawline, piercing eyes. He looked like an action movie star. But right now, that handsome face was full of pure disgust for me, the so-called useless MC. The chat was right. In the original plot, I was just a pretty vase. I couldn’t fight. I couldn’t carry my own weight. My only purpose in this story was to play nurse when the Male Lead got hurt, fall in love with him, and fulfill every single romantic trope in the book. My delicate, fragile nature only existed to add some spice to his post-apocalyptic power fantasy. It was sickening. I looked at Chris and answered with a completely flat voice. “I want to give Sloane some food.” Sloane was my best friend. Three hours ago, she took a zombie scratch to the arm while covering my blind spot. Chris was the one who personally gave the order to kick her out of the safehouse. When Sloane was forced out, she looked back at me one last time. There was zero resentment in her eyes. It was just a calm, quiet look that told me to stay alive. She even smiled at me. And then the heavy iron doors slammed shut in her face. 3 Chris furrowed his brows. “Are you out of your mind?” [Here we go! Classic bleeding-heart Mary Sue moment!] [MC, please use your brain! She’s a zombie now! Opening that door is going to get everyone killed!] [I swear, how did someone this dumb survive a whole month?] [To be fair, I don’t think the MC is wrong. The bestie literally saved her life. Giving her a snack isn’t a crime. It’s not like she’s letting her inside.] [Get out of the chat, you bleeding-heart sympathizer.] The floating text turned into a massive argument. I ignored it. I turned my head and looked at the other people in the safehouse. Seven people. All of them were awake. Not a single one of them stood up to back me. Garrison sneered, looking like he was holding back a string of curses. Toby curled up in the corner. He didn’t dare look me in the eye, let alone speak up for me. Then there was the middle-aged couple. Martha clutched her husband’s arm, while Marcus just shook his head at me like I was a clueless toddler. “Sloane isn’t a zombie,” I said. “She was just infected. She hasn’t fully turned yet. She still has her consciousness, and she saved every single one of your lives.” It was the absolute truth. Three days ago, the first horde hit our perimeter. A crawler pinned Garrison to the concrete. Sloane was the one who caved its skull in with a steel pipe, dragging Garrison back from the brink of death. Two days ago, Toby caught a severe fever from a minor infection. Sloane risked her life, looting three infested apartment blocks just to find him antibiotics. As for Martha and Marcus, the only reason they made it to this safehouse was because Sloane acted as their human shield on the highway. She still had a half-healed gash on her shoulder from protecting them. Every single person breathing in this room had survived because of Sloane. I just couldn’t understand it. When Sloane was the one in danger, why was their very first instinct to throw her to the wolves and watch her die without a shred of guilt? “That’s completely different.” Garrison spat, sounding incredibly annoyed. “She’s infected now. She could turn at any second. The rules are the rules. You pity her, but who is going to pity us?” “Exactly.” Martha chimed in from the corner. “Monica, we know you have a good heart. But this is the apocalypse. Having a good heart gets you killed. Sloane was a great kid, but she’s not human anymore.” I dug my heels in. “She is still human right now. It’s only been three hours since the scratch. A full mutation takes at least eight.” But they were completely deaf to reason. “We can’t take that gamble!” Marcus snapped coldly. “We have too many lives in this room. Your friend is just one person. If she dies, she dies! Do not drag us down with your suicidal empathy!” Chris finally stepped in, delivering the final verdict with a voice made of ice. “Bottom line. I am not letting you open that door. “Think about it. If you open it, even just a crack, the smell of fresh meat will draw the biters straight inside. All eight of us, including you, will be ripped apart.” I looked at him like he had grown a second head. “Hold on. Who exactly told you I was going to open the door?” “I never said I was opening the door.” 4 Chris froze. The chat froze too. [Huh? She’s not opening the door? Then what was she doing at the lock?] [Did the MC actually grow a brain cell? No way, she’s supposed to be a total simp for the ML in the novel.] [Wait, is she going to…] I dug through my survival pack and pulled out a coil of heavy-duty climbing rope. It was about fifty feet long. More than enough to reach the ground from our second-story window. I went over to our supply stash and grabbed two cans of Spam, a bottle of purified water, and a pack of high-calorie survival biscuits. I wrapped them tightly in a plastic bag and tied them securely to the end of the rope. The main door to the safehouse was solid welded iron. It was completely airtight. But the windows were a different story. The second-floor windows were boarded up with thick planks, but there were gaps between the wood. Definitely enough space to slip a rope through. Everyone in the room instantly realized what I was doing. Toby was the first to speak, his voice practically a whisper. “That… that actually works. We keep the door shut, just lower the food down…” “Shut up.” Chris shot him a lethal glare, and Toby instantly shrank back against the wall. Chris marched over to me and grabbed the rope out of my hands. “Are you seriously doing this?” I frowned, keeping my voice dangerously low. “Let go.” “You want to waste our rations at a time like this?” Chris’s voice dropped to a freezing register. “You’re giving food to a dead woman. What is the point? She takes two bites, turns into a monster, and all those calories go straight to hell. Our supplies are already running low. Do you have any idea how—” “I know.” I cut him off sharply. “I know supplies are low. I know she’s dying. I know that once she turns, this food is completely wasted. But I do not care.” I glared right back into his eyes. “She saved my life. She saved your lives. Even the food I’m giving away right now? She scavenged most of it. I refuse to sit here and watch her starve to death outside our walls just because you all lost your humanity.” My voice wasn’t loud, but every single word hit the room like a sledgehammer. Garrison looked away. Martha’s eyes darted nervously to the floor. She kept her mouth shut. Chris’s face turned incredibly ugly. The floating text started flooding my vision again. [Holy crap, the MC is actually standing her ground?] [Honestly, valid point. The bestie kept them all alive. Sparing a couple of cans of Spam is the least they could do.] [Logic doesn’t exist in the apocalypse! You don’t mix feelings with survival. The MC is just a bleeding heart.] [Bro, she isn’t even opening the door. She’s literally just lowering a snack on a rope. How is that being a bleeding heart?] The chat went back to screaming at each other. I tuned them out. Chris stared at me for a few long seconds before abruptly dropping the rope. “Fine.” He looked at me, a mocking sneer twisting his lips. “Do whatever you want. But let me remind you. The second you crack that window, noise and scent are going to leak out. Are you absolutely sure a couple of cans of Spam are worth the risk?” I nodded without a shred of hesitation. “Worth it.” 5 I walked over to the window and carefully pried two of the wooden planks just a fraction of an inch further apart. The night wind immediately rushed in, carrying the foul, metallic stench of rotting blood. I squinted, peering down into the darkness. A small, familiar figure was crammed into the narrow space between a dumpster and the brick wall. It was Sloane. She was terrified that she would turn and attack someone, so she had forced her body into the tightest, smallest ball possible. My chest tightened so painfully I almost choked on a sob. Once the virus took hold, human senses became incredibly sharp. Sloane heard the faint scrape of the wood. Her head snapped up. Across a fifty-foot drop in the dead of night, our eyes locked. I saw her pupils. They hadn’t turned into that milky, dead gray yet. They were still her beautiful, deep brown. There was still light in them. There was still consciousness. Her human soul was still fighting. I carefully fed the rope through the gap, lowering the plastic bag of food into the alley. Sloane saw it. She struggled to her feet, stumbling forward a few clumsy steps, and grabbed the plastic bag. She looked up at me. She didn’t make a sound, but I could read her lips perfectly in the moonlight. “Dumbass.” Then she clutched the bag to her chest, slowly slid back down against the brick wall, and buried her face in her knees. 6 I turned away from the window and faced a room full of absolute silence. Chris was sneering. Garrison was sighing dramatically. Martha was shaking her head. Toby was secretly wiping tears from his eyes. The chat was still arguing. But I truly didn’t care anymore. I pulled the rope back up, sealed the wooden planks tight, and walked back to my sleeping bag to sit down. And then, I waited. The chat explicitly said my best friend was supposed to storm the room the second I opened the door and bite Chris. But I never opened the door. I was incredibly curious to see how this plot was going to fix itself. The minutes ticked by. At exactly three in the morning, the chat absolutely exploded. [WTF WTF WTF!!! LOOK AT THE HORIZON!!!] [WHAT IS THAT?? WHAT IS THAT THING??] [IT’S A HORDE!!! A MASSIVE FREAKING HORDE!!!] I shot to my feet and sprinted to the window. Something was moving across the distant skyline. At first, it just looked like a blur, like a thick, rolling wave of black fog swallowing the horizon. But the shadows quickly took shape. It was the infected. Hundreds, thousands of them. A dense, suffocating swarm pouring in from every single direction. They looked like a black tide washing over the ruined streets and shattered buildings, heading straight for our safehouse. They weren’t moving fast, but the sheer volume of them was paralyzing. It was true despair. “A horde!” Garrison was the first to break the silence. All the blood drained from his face. “How is this possible?! We scouted this entire grid! There were no major clusters for ten miles!” “Something dragged them here.” Chris’s face turned completely pale. “A sound? A scent? Or…” He whipped his head around and glared at me. Every single pair of eyes in the room locked onto me. “It was the food.” Chris’s voice was absolute poison. “You threw that food out the window. The smell drifted. You pulled the horde right to our doorstep!” “That is impossible.” I shot back immediately. “I sent down two sealed cans of Spam. The smell wouldn’t carry far enough to—” “Are you seriously still denying it?!” Marcus suddenly roared. “Look at what is happening! You are still making excuses! I told everyone we couldn’t let her open that window, but she wouldn’t listen! Now look! We are all going to die in this concrete box!” “Exactly!” Martha shrieked hysterically. “Monica, you selfish brat! You just had to play the saint, and now you’ve doomed us all!” “I…” “Enough.” Chris held up a hand, silencing the room. His expression turned completely ruthless. “This isn’t the time to point fingers. We need a way out.” He shot me one final look. It was the kind of look you give a dead body. The text floating in my vision went completely insane. [Oh hell yes, Chris actually yelled at his future wife! You’re gonna be groveling so hard later, bro!] [This plot is making my blood boil! The Male Lead did nothing wrong! It’s all the MC’s fault for being a stupid bleeding heart!] [Hold up. This wasn’t in the original novel… The horde was triggered by something completely different in the book… Wait, is the timeline broken?] [Bro, you just noticed? The plot derailed the exact second she refused to open the door!]

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When Payne’s true love passed away, he completely fell apart. His older brother practically “manufactured” me to be her perfect carbon copy. He dropped me right into Payne’s life with one simple directive: Keep him happy, and I’ll wire you ten million a month. No matter how many times Payne screamed at me to get the hell out of his sight, I just sat there, watching him with quiet, unwavering devotion. Eventually, his walls crumbled, and he finally pulled me into his arms. From that moment on, he treated me like absolute royalty. He spoiled me rotten, holding me like I was the most precious thing in his world. But then came the ultimate plot twist. His unforgettable true love—the girl who was supposed to be six feet under—suddenly posted a live location tag from a beach in Hawaii. That night, Payne completely lost his mind. He was so intensely aggressive with me it felt like he was going to tear my bones apart. Every single wealthy elite in the city grabbed their popcorn, waiting to see how the pathetic little stand-in would have a massive, humiliating mental breakdown. Instead, the very next morning, I walked straight into his brother’s office, my face flushed, and asked, “Boss, does this count as a workplace injury? Do I get workers’ comp?” 1 “Workers’ compensation?” Timmy’s voice was frigid. I scratched my cheek, keeping my voice small. “Matthew was so aggressive last night. I don’t have a single patch of good skin left, and it hurts to walk… Mr. Hayes, I can show you if you don’t believe me—” Timmy cut me off, his tone completely flat. “The money will be transferred to your account shortly.” My eyes immediately lit up. “Thank you, Mr. Hayes!” I paused for a second before adding, “And about the severance package…” “Severance package?” Timmy frowned, a flicker of confusion crossing his face right before his phone started ringing. He answered it. After a long, heavy silence, his eyes narrowed sharply. “She’s still alive?” He hung up the phone. Timmy tapped his long fingers against the mahogany desk. He finally understood what I was asking for. He looked at me and said, “Stay by his side for now. If it turns out he truly doesn’t need you anymore, I will ensure you receive a very generous severance.” I secretly rolled my eyes. Of course he wasn’t going to need me anymore. His one true love wasn’t actually dead. Why on earth would he need a cheap knockoff? But I kept my expression docile, nodded sweetly, and said, “Understood.” I turned to leave. Timmy’s flat voice echoed behind me. “Do not get attached to things that don’t belong to you.” My footsteps faltered. He was warning me. Just like everyone else in this city, he assumed I was going to have a massive mental breakdown. He probably thought I would go insane, maybe even try to hurt someone, fully embracing the role of the toxic, gold-digging substitute. I let out a soft sigh. I really couldn’t blame him for thinking that. For the past three years, Matthew had been absolutely obsessed with me. Recently, he had even started contacting wedding planners. If everything went according to plan, we would be signing the marriage papers very soon. Unfortunately for me, the plan just crashed and burned. Matthew’s unforgettable, irreplaceable true love was alive. My guaranteed spot as the wife of the second Hayes heir had just evaporated. Logically speaking, I should be absolutely losing my mind right now. But over the last few years, I never once forgot my place. The condescending affection I earned by mimicking another woman was never going to last. The only thing that was real, the only thing that actually belonged to me, was the paycheck Timmy deposited into my bank account. I turned back and gave Timmy a bright smile. “Don’t worry, Mr. Hayes. For the salary you’re paying me, I promise I won’t disappoint you.” I pushed open the office doors and stepped out. Only to run into someone I completely did not expect to see in the hallway. Locking eyes with him, I froze entirely. “…Matthew?” The breathtakingly handsome man stopped in his tracks. His dark eyes locked onto me like radar. “What are you doing here?” I violently suppressed my panic, my brain working in absolute overdrive. Matthew had absolutely no idea that I knew his brother. He also had no idea that my entire relationship with him was a meticulously calculated setup orchestrated by Timmy himself. Years ago, when Matthew’s true love ‘died’, he completely lost his mind. He spent his days drinking himself into oblivion and street racing, causing a string of massive scandals. He was constantly on the front page of the tabloids, tanking the Hayes Corporation’s stock prices. As the CEO and head of the family, Timmy was irritated and running out of patience. That was until someone mentioned to him that there was a girl working at a high-end club who looked slightly like the dead girl. That girl was me. Stacks of files and photos were dropped in front of me, and I learned quickly. Since I was docile and incredibly easy to control, I was swiftly delivered to Matthew to act as an emotional pacifier. Matthew honestly believed I was just a girl who coincidentally looked like his ex, and happened to be desperately, hopelessly in love with him. Thanks to my relentless ‘devotion’, he eventually started to care about me. If this secret got out— Forget the workers’ comp and the severance package. I wouldn’t even get my salary for this month! I immediately clung to Matthew’s arm, my voice soft and whiny. “When I woke up, you were already gone, and your phone went straight to voicemail. I was so worried, so I came to ask your brother if he knew where you went. You aren’t mad at me, are you, Matthew?” Matthew paused, his tone indifferent. “He’s busy running the corporation. Don’t bother him with trivial things.” Seeing that he bought the lie, I discreetly let out a breath of relief and nodded obediently. “Okay. I won’t do it again.” He gave a careless nod and pulled his arm out of my grip. “Go home.” “What about tonight? You promised we’d have a candlelight dinner.” I pressed on. “I actually managed to get a reservation at that incredibly exclusive restaurant.” Matthew stopped. His long, elegant fingers reached out to stroke my cheek. Exactly the way someone would pet a dog. “Next time.” He said. Unsurprisingly, there probably wasn’t going to be a next time. But I still nodded like a perfect, obedient doll. “Okay.” 2 If Matthew wasn’t going, I was going by myself. I had been dying to eat at this restaurant for ages, but getting a table was notoriously impossible. Just last week, while I was giving Timmy his weekly report on Matthew’s mental state… I casually mentioned, “Mr. Hayes, getting a table at the restaurant on the top floor of the Apex Tower is literally impossible. Do you happen to have any connections?” Timmy put down his pen, looked up at me, and asked abruptly, “Have you mentioned this to Matthew?” I nodded. “He said if it’s too much trouble to book, we should just drop it. He said all fine dining tastes the same anyway. But the interior design there is gorgeous, and I really wanted to see it.” Timmy took a slow sip of his black coffee, his face completely expressionless. Then he made a single phone call. A second later, a reservation confirmation popped up on my phone. … “Miss Winters?” A male voice broke through my thoughts, snapping me back to reality. I lowered my wine glass and looked up. It was the manager from the wedding planning agency I had been in contact with. I offered a polite smile. “You’re dining here tonight as well?” He looked at me for a few seconds, cleared his throat awkwardly, and lowered his voice to probe. “Are things… alright between you and Mr. Hayes?” “Excuse me?” I feigned perfect confusion. “Mr. Hayes’s assistant contacted me. All wedding preparations and venue designs are being put on hold indefinitely.” The man hesitated. “Specifically, everything regarding the bride.” I fully understood why he was panicking. I gave him a comforting smile. “Don’t worry. The wedding isn’t being canceled.” It was a multi-million dollar contract. Nobody wanted to lose that commission. The manager blinked, swallowing the reassurance, and instantly broke into a massive grin. “Well then, congratulations in advance to you and Mr. Hayes!” The wedding wasn’t going to be canceled. The bride was just being swapped out. I didn’t bother explaining the details. After the manager walked away, I started playing with my silverware out of pure boredom. Suddenly, I caught sight of two figures sitting by the floor-to-ceiling windows. I looked over, and my entire body froze in the chair. It was Matthew. He was sitting facing me, but his eyes were completely glued to the woman sitting across from him. Her delicate, slender back. It only took one glance for me to know exactly who she was. After all, I had spent countless hours staring at photos of her, perfectly mimicking her every posture and expression. A waiter arrived to drop off an appetizer. I pointed discreetly across the room. “I tried booking that specific table for months and couldn’t get it. Did they just pay a massive premium?” I only complained casually, not actually expecting an answer. High-end staff were trained to guard their clients’ privacy with their lives. To my surprise, the waiter chuckled softly. “Well, this restaurant operates under the Hayes Corporation. That gentleman over there is the young master of the family. He sits wherever he pleases with a single word.” I sat there, completely stunned. No wonder… When I told Timmy about this place, he gave me this incredibly unreadable look. Then, with one phone call, the table was mine. And Matthew? He couldn’t even be bothered to make that one single phone call for me. I had complained to him so many times about failing to get a reservation here. He would just pull me into his lap, casually playing with my earring, lazily admiring the disappointment on my face. “Oh, you poor thing. Can’t even get the dinner you want.” But then again, that was exactly how he always treated me. No respect, no equality. I was just a pet he could mold and tease whenever he felt like it. For example… I sat quietly, watching the two of them across the room. Matthew would never sit across the table from me. He always demanded I sit right next to him, just so he could easily pull me into his arms and mess with me. He would never politely pour me a glass of wine and engage in a serious, mature conversation. He would just press his own wine glass against my lips and lazily threaten, “Not going to drink it? Do you want me to feed it to you from my mouth?” Honestly, I never really wanted his respect anyway. I always knew exactly where I stood. But seeing him act like a perfect gentleman with her right in front of my eyes still left a slightly bitter taste in my mouth. 3 “Well, well. If it isn’t Miss Winters.” A man aggressively dropped into the empty chair across from me, forcing me to rip my eyes away from Matthew’s table. …It was one of Matthew’s obnoxious rich friends. “We were literally taking bets yesterday on how fast Matthew was going to dump you. And look at you, already eating all by yourself.” He smiled with pure malice, his eyes raking over me like I was an object on display. Then he pulled out his phone, blatantly snapped a picture of me, and sent it to a group chat. He held down the voice memo button. “Guess who I just ran into, boys? Matthew really tossed her to the curb.” Sitting there, an absolutely insane thought crossed my mind. If Matthew’s garbage friends were harassing me, could I invoice Timmy for emotional damage? “Without him paying the bills, how are you going to keep up this luxury lifestyle?” He sneered, leaning closer with a sleazy look. “Why don’t you spend a few nights with me? Twenty grand a night. Sound good?” As much as I genuinely wanted to throw my wine directly into his face and tell him my actual boss paid me ten times that… I couldn’t. I still had a deeply devoted, heartbroken persona to maintain. I kept my voice soft and gentle. “That’s not true. Matthew just said he had something important to handle tonight. We’re coming here together next time.” The man actually laughed out loud. He jerked his chin toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Do you see who is sitting over there?” I only glanced over for a second before saying firmly, “That’s just his friend. I would never interfere with his social life.” The man stood up and started walking straight toward their table. He was determined to rip away my last shred of dignity and force me to see exactly how ruthless Matthew really was. Are you kidding me?! I violently suppressed the thrill rising in my chest and quickly hurried after him. This was absolutely perfect. I was desperately looking for a flawless, dramatic exit that wouldn’t make anyone suspicious. Matthew would definitely draw a hard line with me in front of his true love. And I would act completely devastated, but maintain my dignity and leave with a broken heart. That way, I could secure my massive severance check at lightning speed. And if I was lucky, Matthew might even throw a fat breakup check at my face out of guilt. Then we would officially go our separate ways, never to cross paths again. After all, Timmy had explicitly told me that any jewelry, gifts, or allowances Matthew had given me were mine to keep with zero strings attached. While my mind was calculating my net worth, I followed the obnoxious rich kid right up to Matthew’s table. Two pairs of eyes instantly snapped toward me. As expected, the moment Matthew saw me, the color drained from his face. He stared dead at me. The atmosphere instantly turned incredibly bizarre. The woman looked at me and asked, “Your girlfriend?”

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I was out grabbing dinner with my boyfriend when the customer at the booth next to ours started screaming at a waitress. It was painfully obvious they were just picking a fake fight to shake the restaurant down for cash. I couldn’t just sit there and watch. I stood up and actually defended the girl, calling out the obnoxious customer. But the waitress? She just kept her head ducked down, lips zipped tight, acting like she was paralyzed by fear. Sitting across from me, my boyfriend finally had enough of the noise and casually threw in a sentence to back me up. That was the exact millisecond she violently snapped her head up. Her eyes were perfectly rimmed with red. Staring right past me, she locked onto my boyfriend and choked out a teary, “Thank you so much!” Then, dropping her voice into this sickeningly sweet whisper, she asked him, “Could I buy you dinner tomorrow to pay you back?” I didn’t even dignify that with a response. I stayed completely silent until the sweating restaurant manager came jogging over to our table. The manager explained that their security camera was conveniently busted and begged me to give a witness statement to save the girl from paying the damages. I just shook my head, flashing a polite, apologetic smile. “Oh, I am so sorry,” I said lightly. “I was just staring down at my food the whole time. I didn’t notice a single thing.” 1 The weekend started with a simple dinner date with my boyfriend. The waitress serving the table next to ours fumbled her tray. A sticky slice of watermelon slipped and landed squarely on a little boy’s lap. The kid’s mother instantly blew up. “Are you completely brain-dead?!” Realizing her mistake, the waitress froze. She stood there, wringing her hands and muttering endless apologies. I squinted at her. She looked familiar. A second later, it clicked. She was a freshman who had just joined our campus event committee. Naturally, I paid a little more attention to the drama unfolding. The parents weren’t having any of her apologies. The mother opened her mouth and demanded eight hundred dollars for the ruined designer clothes. The freshman’s face drained of color. She stammered, desperately trying to explain that the accident only happened because the kid had been jumping up and down on the booth cushions. That was the wrong move. Instead of calming the parents down, it poured gasoline on the fire. “So you’re blaming my son now?” the father growled. “Is this the kind of trashy service this place offers? You will apologize to my boy right now and pay up!” The freshman’s eyes filled with hot, panicked tears. Her gaze darted around the room and landed on me. It was like she had spotted a life raft. “Miss, you saw the whole thing, right? Could you please tell them what happened?” She stared at me with pure, begging desperation. Since she was a junior from my university and we worked in the same committee, I couldn’t just leave her hanging. I gave a small nod. “I didn’t catch the entire thing. But when she was bringing the food over, I definitely heard her warn your son that jumping around was dangerous.” The moment the words left my mouth, the angry parents locked their sights on me. “Why the hell are you defending this little bitch? Are you a bitch too?!” the mother shrieked. “I know exactly how my kid behaves! You probably saved up for a month just to afford a meal here, you broke loser. Stop trying to play the hero!” A hot spike of anger flared in my chest. I opened my mouth to tell her that if she had a problem, we could just roll the security tapes. But out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something. The moment the parents turned their wrath on me, the freshman let out a visible sigh of relief. She shrank back into the corner, completely silent. It was as if my stepping in to take the bullet for her had absolutely nothing to do with her. My stomach dropped. Any desire I had to help this girl vanished into thin air. Just then, my boyfriend returned from the cash register. 2 Sensing the thick tension in the air, he lowered his voice and asked me what was going on. When I gave him the rundown, his jaw clenched. “My girlfriend was just answering a question politely. Keep your personal attacks to yourself,” he told the parents, his voice deadpan but carrying a sharp edge. “If you insult my girl one more time, I’m calling the cops.” “She already agreed to pay for the dry cleaning and she apologized. There’s no need to cross the line.” Maybe it was just my imagination. But the moment the waitress noticed my boyfriend picking up his tailored jacket from the booth, revealing the heavy luxury watch on his wrist, her whole demeanor shifted. My eyes turned icy. I immediately grabbed his arm. If people didn’t appreciate my help, I wasn’t about to keep throwing my kindness at a brick wall. Tristan picked up my phone from the table and handed it to me. “Bill’s paid. Let’s go.” I nodded and turned toward the door. But a soft, trembling voice called out from behind us. “Tristan. Thank you so much for standing up for me.” The same freshman who had been hiding in the corner, pretending she didn’t exist while I was getting screamed at, suddenly found her courage. She stood there, twisting the hem of her apron. Her eyes were perfectly rimmed with red. She looked at Tristan with pure, unfiltered adoration. I almost laughed out loud. If I hadn’t just witnessed her little disappearing act, I might have actually bought the innocent act. What a joke. I took the heat for her, and she didn’t even utter a single syllable of thanks. My boyfriend merely defended me, throwing a casual warning at the parents in the process, and suddenly he was her knight in shining armor. Tristan turned his head. His expression was polite but completely distant. “You go to Weston Uni too?” The girl nodded eagerly. She didn’t spare a single glance in my direction. “Could I buy you a meal tomorrow? Just to say thanks. If it weren’t for you, I don’t know what they would have done to me today!” Tristan flatly rejected her. “No need.” “I wasn’t defending you anyway.” I felt a surge of annoyance at her audacity, but I didn’t bother calling her out. I just chalked it up to a bad judge of character on my part. I had helped the wrong person. 3 But the universe wasn’t done with us. Just as we pushed open the heavy glass doors to the street, we heard her again. “Wait! Tristan!” The girl rushed out onto the sidewalk. She was clutching a small, pristine bakery box. Without waiting for permission, she practically shoved the dessert into Tristan’s hands. Sensing her movement, Tristan frowned deeply and stepped to the side, dodging her touch before she could make contact. His tone carried a heavy trace of irritation. “I said no need.” “I didn’t speak up for you. The person you should be thanking is my girlfriend.” The girl froze. She slowly turned to look at me, her eyes flashing with a strange, unreadable emotion. Finally, she shoved the box toward my chest. “Thanks.” “Since Tristan doesn’t want it, you can have it.” Her gratitude was as fake as a three-dollar bill. I looked at her, a sarcastic smirk playing on my lips. Somewhere between the restaurant and the sidewalk, her apron had magically vanished. Now she was just standing there in her fitted uniform skirt, highlighting her slim figure. Her makeup was flawless. Thinking back to the amount Tristan had just dropped on our dinner, the pieces clicked into place. But the girl wasn’t giving up. She lunged forward and grabbed Tristan’s sleeve. “Hey, the dorm curfews are probably active by now! If you’re heading back to campus, you can walk with me!” “I’m super tight with the security guard. I always finish my shifts around this time, so he lets me sneak in. Just stick close to me!” Again, zero mention of me. Tristan took a firm step back, ripping his arm out of her grasp. “Not necessary. We have a place off-campus. We aren’t going back to the dorms.” Hearing this, her eyes practically sparkled. “Then you should at least add my number! I already gave your girlfriend a gift to say thanks, but I haven’t properly thanked you yet!” Before she could push her phone into his face, the restaurant manager came jogging out the door. “Miss, I am so sorry to interrupt. We were just reviewing the incident in the back, and it turns out the camera in that corner is busted.” “You were the only table nearby. Would you mind staying to give a witness statement?” I let out a short, airy laugh. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Manager. I was too busy looking down at my food. I didn’t see a single thing.” The freshman, who had clearly assumed she was off the hook for the damages, panicked. “What do you mean?! Just a minute ago you said…” “I didn’t say anything. Like I said, I was just eating my dinner.” Seeing the icy smile on my face, the seasoned manager instantly read the room. 4 I wrote the whole thing off as a bizarre little glitch in my day and pushed it out of my mind. I honestly thought I would never have to deal with her again. I was dead wrong. Once we got back to the daily grind at university, things got insanely busy. A whole week blew by before I finally had the time to meet up with Tristan again. Tristan and I were in the same graduating class. We bumped into each other back in our freshman year when we accidentally swapped garment bags backstage at a gala. Honestly, getting together with Tristan was something I never saw coming. Our backgrounds were night and day. We ran in completely different circles. Add to that the fact that we were in entirely different majors and departments. If it hadn’t been for that backstage mix-up, we probably would have gone our whole college lives without crossing paths. My family ran a massive international shipping corporation. We were doing very, very well. Tristan was a local. His parents owned a tiny, rundown hair salon right outside the campus gates. Because their styling skills were stuck in the past, business was brutal. A few months ago, they were on the verge of bankruptcy. Feeling bad for him, I went in and loaded up a VIP membership card with fifteen thousand dollars. That massive injection of cash eased their financial choking hazard, and the salon was saved. I just hated seeing Tristan stressed out over money. Fifteen grand was pocket change to me anyway. I figured I’d just use it up over time for blowouts and treatments. But when I walked into the salon that day, I saw a familiar silhouette sweeping the floor. It was the freshman from the restaurant. She glanced up, made eye contact with me, and then immediately looked away like I was a total stranger. Not a single word of greeting. I wasn’t about to beg for her attention. When Tristan came out from the back room, I casually asked him what was going on. His expression didn’t change a bit when I brought her up. “She probably got fired over what happened the other night.” “My parents put up a hiring sign recently, and she walked in for an interview.” “You know how it is. My parents run the show here. By the time I found out, she was already on the payroll.” I nodded slowly. It was true. Tristan rarely meddled in his parents’ business. He only ever hung around the shop when he knew I was coming over. Normally, he was swamped with his own stuff. We grabbed a quick lunch, and I went back to my apartment. I didn’t stress over the fact that this girl was working at his parents’ place. After all, a man who can be stolen away was never yours to begin with. Plus, Tristan’s new startup studio was entirely funded by my money. 5 I usually drove home to see my parents on the weekends. After my Friday afternoon lecture, I stopped by the salon, planning to get a quick hair wash and blowout before hitting the highway. But right after I finished, I was told my VIP card was empty. A fifteen-thousand-dollar pre-paid card. I had barely been here a handful of times, and now it had a zero balance. I furrowed my brows and stared at the girl behind the cash register. Lily. I had learned her name from the campus committee roster a few days ago. Hearing my confusion, she gave me a look dripping with pure contempt, though she plastered a sickly sweet customer-service smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Miss. Your card has zero balance. How would you like to pay today?” When she saw me reaching for my phone to call Tristan, she let out a loud, mocking scoff and actually reached over the counter to snatch my phone away. “Have you no shame? How thick does your skin have to be to demand Tristan’s parents add fifteen thousand dollars to a fake account when you didn’t spend a single dime of your own money?” I let out a dark laugh. So the rat was finally showing her teeth. She actually believed my VIP balance was just a favor I begged out of Tristan, assuming I hadn’t paid a cent. So she just went into the system and wiped it out. Instead of blowing up, I just smiled. “Are you really that sure I didn’t drop cold, hard cash on this account?” She looked at me like I was delusional. “I am an employee of this establishment now. It is my absolute duty to protect the shop from leeches!” “I’m not going to tolerate people like you who just hold their hands out for freebies! Every dollar Tristan has, he earned with his own blood and sweat! Do you have any idea how exhausting it is for him to run his studio all by himself?!” “If you refuse to pay your bill right now, I have no problem blasting your face all over the campus forums!” She lifted her chin, staring down her nose at me from behind the register, looking like some righteous martyr. Looking at her misplaced arrogance, I didn’t have the energy to argue with stupid. I glanced around. Tristan’s parents weren’t in the shop. I calmly picked up the salon’s landline and dialed Tristan’s number. I don’t know what Tristan told her on that call. I only had one demand. Lily needed to apologize to me. Whatever he said must have hit hard, because a few minutes later, Lily ran out from the back room with tears streaming down her face. Seeing me still standing by the styling chairs, she shot me a look of pure venom before sprinting out the front door. Tristan walked out right behind her. Seeing me, he rubbed his temples, looking utterly exhausted. “Babe, I’m sorry. I know that was messed up.” I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t need to apologize to me. You didn’t do it.” “Just make the person who did it give me an apology.” I wasn’t about to drop my demand just because the girl squeezed out a few crocodile tears. Tristan shifted uncomfortably. “Come on, just let it go. Do it for me.” “Lily just didn’t understand the situation. At the end of the day, she was just trying to look out for my family’s business.” The warmth vanished from my face. “Is asking for a simple apology crossing a line? You’re my boyfriend. Why are you apologizing on behalf of another woman?” I turned on my heel and walked out, not looking back. Later that night, I finally got the apology. A stiff, three-word text message. I am sorry. I didn’t care. But from that day on, I noticed a subtle, chilling distance whenever Tristan and I texted. 6 I brushed it off. I stuck to my weekend plans and drove home. But when I woke up in my childhood bedroom, I noticed a new addition to the group chat I shared with Tristan and my best friends. Tristan had added someone. I immediately opened a private chat with him. What’s going on? It took him hours to reply. When he finally did, it was a voice note. The background was noisy, and I could faintly hear a girl’s voice asking him a question. “It’s the new girl from the salon.” “My parents want to run a promotion to get the old VIPs to come back and top up their cards.” “They figure since she goes to our college, she knows how all this social media stuff works. They made me add her.” “Since that group chat has a bunch of our best paying customers, I just added her in.” His voice was terrifyingly calm. Something felt incredibly off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. That group chat was almost entirely made up of my high school friends. They went to different colleges in the city, not Weston Uni. Because they loved me, whenever they visited my campus, they went to Tristan’s parents’ salon and bought VIP cards. Some dropped a thousand, others dropped three thousand. I sent back a generic ‘goodnight’ sticker and went to sleep. The long highway drive had drained me. But the next morning, when I checked my phone, I almost threw it at the wall. In the dead of night, Lily had changed our group chat name. It went from Ride or Die Crew to Lily’s Exclusive Fan Club. She had also changed her own nickname in the chat to Tristan’s Right-Hand Girl, Lily! “Hi everyone! Tristan’s mom told me that you are all our VIPs!” “I’m here to shower you guys with some amazing exclusive perks!” She followed up with a wall of text detailing the salon’s new promotional discounts. Then she systematically tagged every single person in the chat, begging them to come down and load up their cards. The only person she didn’t tag was me. My best friend Stella had blown up my phone at 2 AM with a dozen messages. What the hell, girl?! Who is this freak your man just added? Who wants to be in her fan club? The absolute nerve! I’m gonna vomit. I’m leaving this chat. Wake up! Are you dead?! Say something! Get out of bed and kick this pick-me bitch out of the group! The chat was filled with my closest friends, and Lily’s unhinged late-night stunt had left everyone completely speechless. I dialed Tristan’s number and let it ring until he picked up. He had clearly just woken up and hadn’t checked his phone yet. When I described the bloodbath in the group chat, he was at a loss for words. “I’m so sorry. I’ll make her leave the group.” I don’t know what Tristan said to her. But by the time I finished brushing my teeth, the group name was back to normal. And the girl was gone. 7 After that nightmare, I sat down with Tristan and laid out exactly where my boundaries were. Knowing I was furious, and knowing he had messed up, he promised to make it up to me on Monday. His apology seemed genuine, so I let the issue rest. But when I walked into his parents’ salon on Monday, the atmosphere was completely toxic. Tristan’s mother was lying back, resting her head on Lily’s lap while Lily gently plucked out her gray hairs. Lily’s hands moved delicately while she kept up a constant stream of cheerful chatter. She looked like the picture-perfect daughter-in-law. Tristan’s mom was clearly eating it up. It was obvious, considering every other stylist in the shop was sweating and working, while Lily got to sit and play favorite. But the second Lily saw me walk through the door, her eyes went red again. She instantly dropped her gaze and stopped laughing with the mother. I seriously wondered if the girl had a medical condition. Her eyes watered on command. The other stylists noticed the awkward shift in the air and slowly stopped talking. Tristan’s mother finally noticed me standing there. “Oh, Serena. Here for a wash?” I nodded. “Yeah, I’m grabbing a movie with Tristan later.” The mention of my date with Tristan made Lily tense up. She gently tugged on the mother’s sleeve. The older woman patted Lily’s hand, giving her a reassuring look. Then she walked over and took my arm. “Alright, go lie down over there.” I shot Tristan a quick text saying I had arrived, then leaned back into the washing basin, waiting for a stylist. But I quickly realized something was wrong. Lily was the one standing over me. Before I could say a word, she grabbed the showerhead. Without checking the temperature, she turned it on full blast right over my face. Ice-cold water sprayed everywhere. Then, with a ‘clumsy’ flick of her wrist, she aimed the nozzle directly at my face. Remembering the full face of makeup I had just spent an hour doing, I threw my hands up to block the water. But she was faster. She pinned my shoulder down with her free hand and kept blasting my face with the freezing spray. I ripped myself out of the chair. Seeing the smug, victorious gleam in her eye, I swung my arm and slapped her across the face. The sharp crack of skin against skin echoed through the dead-silent salon. Lily snapped out of her shock. Screaming at the top of her lungs, she lunged at me, claws out. I sidestepped smoothly, letting her stumble past me. 8 I glanced at Tristan’s mother, who was standing a few feet away, completely unfazed. It all made sense now. She had picked Lily out as her new favorite for Tristan. And they wanted to put me in my place. She had always believed the fifteen grand in the VIP system was Tristan’s hard-earned cash. She thought Tristan was just using my name to hide the money, afraid his proud parents wouldn’t accept a direct handout. She had always hated me, convinced I was a gold digger bleeding her precious son dry. “Don’t you think you’re taking this a bit too far?” I asked, my voice deadly calm. My hair was soaking wet. Mascara was running down my cheeks. I looked like a wreck. But I didn’t feel an ounce of fear. Tristan’s mother finally snapped into action. She rushed over to Lily, checking her face frantically. Seeing the red handprint blooming on Lily’s cheek, she looked like her heart was breaking. When she turned back to me, her face was twisted in pure hatred. “Get the hell out of my shop! You are not welcome here!” “Break up with my son right now! I’ve been sick of looking at your face for months! All you do is scam him out of his money!” “Lily was just protecting our business! That VIP card was funded by my son’s paycheck!” “How dare you force this sweet girl to apologize to you!” I didn’t say a word. I just locked eyes with Tristan, who had just rushed through the front door. Meeting my cold stare, he immediately looked away. When his eyes landed on Lily’s bruised cheek, his expression darkened. “Serena, did you hit her?” His guilt had morphed into accusation. I almost laughed. He was my boyfriend. Yet the first thing he noticed wasn’t his girlfriend standing there, dripping wet and shivering. It was the red mark on his new employee’s face. Whose boyfriend was he anyway? When I saw him instinctively reach out to touch Lily’s face, a cold realization washed over me. “You two have been getting pretty cozy over this past week, haven’t you?” My voice was dripping with venom. Hearing this, Tristan exploded. He kicked a styling chair hard. “Are you done making a scene?! Stop acting like a paranoid psycho!” “Apologize to her!” Every single person in the salon froze. The low hum of the blow dryers died out. All eyes were on us, yet not a single person stepped up to defend me. Whatever poison Lily had been dripping in their ears, they all looked at me like I finally got what I deserved. The man who used to be my loving boyfriend was now publicly humiliating me. Demanding I apologize to a snake without even asking what happened.

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1 The car crash three years ago derailed my entire existence. My mother passed away on the spot from a stress-induced heart attack. I lost my unborn baby. I was stripped of the PhD I was months away from earning. Overnight, I plummeted from a promising academic with a bright future to a convicted felon. It was not until today, the day of my release, that Victor dropped a bomb that shattered my reality. He picked me up from the prison gates and calmly confessed that I was never the one behind the wheel that night. He had drugged my drink, knocked me out cold, and dragged my unconscious body into the driver’s seat to take the fall for Daisy. He claimed Daisy had just gotten accepted into college and he could not let a DUI destroy her bright future. He actually had the nerve to say that since I had sponsored Daisy’s education for years, I surely would not have wanted to see her life ruined either. My mind went entirely blank. All the blood drained from my face until I looked like a drowned corpse. So in his eyes, my mother’s life, my baby, and my entire future were worth less than Daisy’s precious potential. “Pull over.” My voice was a violent tremor, sounding more like a pathetic whimper. I could not share the same oxygen as him for another second. But the luxury sedan kept cruising down the highway. Victor barely glanced at me as he laid out the real reason he came to get me. “Daisy and I had a baby. Today is his first birthday party. I need you to show up and pretend to be his mother.” My hand, which had been clawing blindly at the door handle, froze mid-air. I stared at him, feeling like a grotesque clown. “Why…” The word slipped out, weak and broken. Victor’s face softened into something resembling pity. He let out a heavy sigh. “Audrey, I am a man. You were locked up for three years. I have physical needs.” “So you slept with the girl I treated like a little sister. And then you locked me in a cage.” I forced myself to look at him. Boiling tears threatened to spill over my eyelashes. Victor’s eyes darkened, his tone shifting back to cold steel. “You are a thirty-year-old ex-con. I have been paying for your father’s medical bills the whole time you were inside. You have absolutely no right to question me.” The tears finally broke free. This nightmare was entirely his doing. If he had not drugged me, I never would have believed I committed the crime. He was the one who held me in the interrogation room, crying and swearing on his life. “Do not be scared, Audrey. I will wait for you. You are the only wife I will ever have.” During the thousand nights I spent shivering on a hard cot, surviving the humiliation of prison, he was busy playing house with another woman. “Audrey! Welcome home!” By the time I registered my surroundings, Victor had dragged me up the steps to my own house. Daisy immediately shoved a squirming baby into my arms, flashing a sickeningly sweet smile. “The guests are already here. Let’s go inside.” She was directing me around my own home, acting like the lady of the manor. Moving like a reanimated corpse, I walked into the grand living room. Instantly, a dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me. Shock. Pity. Pure disgust. I had not even taken three steps before the vicious whispers started. “That is her. The drunk driver who killed someone. I cannot believe she has the nerve to show her face.” “She has zero shame. Everyone knows Noah is not her kid. How can she wear those horns so proudly?” “What else is she going to do? You think an ex-con has the guts to cause a scene?” They exchanged knowing smirks and let out low, mocking laughs. It felt like walking on broken glass. Every step left me bleeding invisibly. In that room, I was nothing but a pathetic punchline. Noticing my arms shaking violently, Daisy reached out to take the baby. But the millisecond her fingers grazed the blanket, the infant let out a bloodcurdling scream. Daisy’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She violently snatched the boy out of my grip, looking at me like I was a literal monster. “Audrey, I know you hate the fact that Noah is here, but you cannot pinch him! He is just a baby!” My arms were still frozen in the air. I stared at her, utterly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of her lie. I took a step forward to defend myself. Before I could even speak, a massive force slammed into the side of my face. The room spun violently. I crashed hard onto the marble floor, my cheek burning like it had been held to a hot stove. “You sick psycho! Taking your anger out on an infant!” Victor stood over me, his face purple with rage, glaring at me with absolute revulsion. He pointed to a faint red mark on the baby’s thigh. Looking at it, a hysterical, broken laugh ripped from my throat. “My hands were literally holding his back the entire time. How could I…” “Shut up. I am sick of your lies.” Victor cut me off with the precision of a knife. He scooped the crying baby out of Daisy’s arms and stormed upstairs. Victor’s relatives immediately swarmed me like vultures. “Since you are out, keep your head down. You are an old woman with a criminal record. Stop causing drama.” “Victor was gracious enough to let you back into this house. Get on your knees and be grateful!” “Grateful?” I dragged myself off the floor, using the wall for support. My cheek was throbbing, but I was laughing so hard tears streamed down my face. “You think he is a good man? Do you have any idea that he was the one who put me in…” “Audrey!” Victor thundered from the top of the stairs, silencing me instantly. He marched down, grabbed my arm with bruising force, and plastered on a fake smile to usher the guests out the door. Once the heavy oak door clicked shut, he turned to me. His eyes were devoid of humanity. “I put you in that cell once. I can easily do it again.” “Noah needs a mother on paper. And you are not going to ruin my family.” The tears on my face felt absurd. I looked at my legally wedded husband, a man burning the world down to protect his mistress’s child. I smiled bitterly. “Your family?” “Victor. Who exactly is your wife?” “Do you even remember the baby I was carrying?” During the trial, I was the monster. The drunk driver. I sat at the defense table, head bowed, weeping in shame. Suddenly, a relative of the victim bypassed security and lunged at me with a fist. But Victor did not shield me. He threw his body over Daisy, who was sitting safely behind the railing. I took the hit. I bled out on the courtroom floor. As the paramedics loaded me onto the stretcher, my husband simply covered Daisy’s eyes. “Do not look. It is disgusting. You will get sick.” At that moment, I wanted to die. I wanted to fade away with the child I had just lost. “Audrey, it is all my fault. Blame me. I stole your life.” Daisy fell to her knees, sobbing hysterically, her body shaking as she begged for my forgiveness. Looking down at her, reality seemed to glitch. Suddenly, the bizarre feeling I had when I first walked in the door made perfect sense. Daisy was wearing my vintage diamond necklace. Her hair was styled in the exact French twist I wore to every gala. From head to toe, she had meticulously cloned herself to look exactly like me. She did not just want my husband. She had been planning to steal my identity for years. Years ago, when her mother died, I took her in out of pity. I gave her a room. One day, I caught her digging through my closet, wearing one of my custom dresses. It hung loosely on her frame. The cut was entirely wrong for her body. But she was staring at herself in the mirror, completely mesmerized. I had gently called out to her. “Daisy, we can buy you clothes that actually fit your style.” She gripped the fabric tighter, whispering something to her reflection. I had not heard it then. But I knew what it was now. “Whatever is yours, is the best.” “Audrey, you have every right to hit me. Hit me!” Daisy stared up at me through a veil of tears, looking like a shattered angel seeking redemption. I let out a soft laugh. Then I laughed harder, doubling over until my ribs ached. She watched me, her facade slipping into genuine annoyance, thinking I had actually lost my mind. I abruptly killed the laugh and stared dead into her eyes. “Daisy, do you not feel sick to your stomach?” She flinched, a flash of irritation crossing her face. Before she could open her mouth, I leaned down and finished my thought. “Your mother was driven to suicide by a homewrecker. And here you are, doing the exact same thing to me. If she were watching from hell, she would probably crawl back up just to strangle you.” All the color vanished from her face. She froze, the perfectly constructed victim routine shattering into a million pieces. She was no longer the one in control. Victor’s face hardened. He stepped protectively in front of her. “Audrey, you are crossing a line. I told you, this was all my fault. You should be mad at…” Smack. I swung my arm with everything I had and slapped him dead across the jaw. I finished his sentence for him. “Oh, I know it is your fault.” The veins in Victor’s neck bulged. He grabbed Daisy, who was lunging forward to claw my eyes out, and threw her behind him. He glared at me, panting heavily. “What do you want? Money? Real estate? Sign the divorce papers, and name your price.” My ears started ringing. I suddenly saw him as he was eight years ago. A broke college kid, kneeling on the worn carpet in my parents’ living room, refusing to get up. “Please let me marry her. You took care of her for the first half of her life. Let me protect her for the rest of it. If I break this vow, let lightning strike me dead.” Now, he could not even stand to look at my face. I was just a stain he needed to bleach out of his life. There was no point in holding back. “Fine. I want every single property in your name, and fifty percent of your liquid assets.” Daisy gasped, grabbing Victor’s arm in sheer panic, terrified he might actually agree. Victor paused. He looked almost surprised that I had caved so easily. He stared at me for a long minute, then nodded. “Done.” Daisy’s teeth audibly ground together. She dragged him into the hallway. A muffled, vicious argument erupted. A few minutes later, Daisy stormed back into the room, her face twisted with fury. “You think you deserve that kind of payout? What the hell are you going to do with all those houses? Have you no shame? You are going to throw a baby out onto the street?!” I shoved past her and walked into the master bedroom. I dragged my old suitcase out of the closet and started tossing my jewelry boxes inside. Daisy’s eyes were bloodshot. She stood in the doorway, hurling every insult she could think of. I completely ignored her. Suddenly, her ranting stopped. A twisted, psychotic smile spread across her face. “Hey Audrey. Do you know how your mother really died?” My hands stopped moving. I slowly turned to face her. A wave of sick satisfaction washed over her face. She had finally found the knife to twist. “The day after you went to prison, your mom walked into the bedroom and caught Victor and me in bed. The shock literally stopped her heart.” A deafening roar filled my head. It felt like someone had driven a spike right through my chest. Daisy was still smiling. “She collapsed right there on the rug. She was gasping for air, rolling around in agony. Honestly, if I had just picked up the phone and called an ambulance, she would have made it.” “But she looked at me with this absolute disgust. Like I was trash. So I just…” My vision went completely red. I launched myself across the room, tackling her to the hardwood floor. I pinned her down and rained fists onto her face. Daisy shrieked, a high-pitched, terrified wail. “Get off me! Help! Help me!” Blood burst from her nose. Her perfect skin began bruising purple and black. I wrapped both hands around her throat and squeezed tight. “Die.” “Audrey!” A thunderous voice shattered the chaos. A pair of hands grabbed my shoulders and violently hurled me backward. I crashed into the bedside table. Victor stood over me, his chest heaving, looking at me with pure, unadulterated hatred. “Get the hell out of my house! I actually felt bad for you! I wanted to compensate you, but you are just a violent psychopath! You do not deserve a damn thing!” He grabbed me by the back of my collar and physically dragged me down the stairs, throwing me out the front door. It was pouring rain outside. Within seconds, the freezing downpour soaked me to the bone. Through the massive glass window, I saw Daisy standing inside, wrapped in a cashmere throw, smiling as she watched me shivering like a stray dog. Blind rage took over. I screamed into the rain, reaching for my pockets to call the cops, only to realize I did not even have my phone. Rain mixed with the blood and tears on my face. The world tilted, went black, and I hit the pavement. When I opened my eyes, I was staring at a sterile hospital ceiling. Between severe malnutrition and the intense emotional trauma, my body had shut down. An ambulance had brought me in. Whether out of guilt or paranoia, Victor showed up at my room every single day. Even though I refused to look at him or speak a single word, he kept coming. “I wired half a million dollars to your account. I feel terrible about what happened to your mother, which is why I have been paying for your father’s care.” “Audrey, let’s just sign the papers and walk away.” “Walk away?” Victor froze. He slowly met my dead, hollow stare. I let out a dry scoff. My voice was colder than the IV fluid dripping into my veins. “You think half a million dollars erases three years in a concrete box? You framed me to protect your mistress. You murdered my mother. You killed my baby. That is three lives.” “Before you locked me up, I was making six figures. Do the math, Victor. Figure out exactly how much blood money you owe me.” “Pay up, or I will drag you down to hell with me.” The room fell into a suffocating silence. Victor frowned. After a long minute, a dark, calculating look flashed in his eyes. “Fine.” “You will have another million and a half in three days. Once the wire clears, this is over.” He turned and walked out. The moment the door clicked shut, I reached under my pillow and clicked off the digital voice recorder. Then, I dialed the one number I knew by heart. The man who had been waiting for this call. “Three years ago, I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have left you. The favor you offered… is it still on the table?” The text back was instantaneous. Always. The day I was discharged, the wire transfer cleared. One point five million. A few hours later, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Daisy. She asked if I wanted to come pick up a box of my mother’s remaining belongings. I knew it was bait. But I called a cab and went anyway. The second I stepped into the living room, Daisy dropped to her knees, her eyes swollen from crying. “Audrey, I am so sorry. Everything is my fault. But Noah did not do anything wrong! He is my entire world. Please, just tell me where he is. Give him back, I am begging you!” She slammed her forehead against the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. Every alarm bell in my head went off. This was a setup. I spun around to sprint out the door, only to crash directly into Victor’s chest. He was hyperventilating, his face ashen, looking like a demon crawling out of a nightmare. “Where is my son?! Where the hell did you hide him?! I gave you the money! Why won’t you let this go?!” My chest heaved in panic. I backed away, shaking my head. “I did not take him! Look at the security cameras! Call the police!” Daisy lunged forward and slapped me across the face. Her scream was deafening. “Give him back! If you want someone to die, take me! I will die for him!” She yanked a small kitchen knife from her pocket and pressed the blade against her own throat. Victor’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull. He slapped the knife out of her hand. When he looked back at me, his eyes were dead. I stumbled backward, turning to run for the side door. Victor moved faster. He clamped a hand over my mouth, dragged me into the garage, and threw me into the trunk of his SUV. He bound my wrists with zip ties. I thrashed against the floorboards, screaming through his hand, asking what he was doing. Victor grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. He spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “You always hated the sick bastards who hurt women, right? Let’s see how much you hate them when I dump you in a remote, off-the-grid cabin where no one will ever hear you scream. You are going to rot in the mountains.” My eyes blew wide. I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted copper. A flash of a repressed childhood memory hit me. Being snatched off the street at six years old. The filthy basement. The man with the rotting teeth. The putrid mattress. Starving in the dark. Tears poured down my face. I thrashed violently, begging him to listen. “I swear to God I did not touch your son! Check the cameras! It was not me!” “The cameras are dead! Cut the innocent act!” Victor slammed my head against the carpet, slammed the trunk shut, and peeled out of the garage. I lay curled in the pitch-black trunk, suffocating in pure terror. But as the SUV took a sharp corner onto the mountain road, a massive black tactical truck surged out of a side street. It swerved directly into Victor’s lane, blocking the road entirely. A deafening crash shook the SUV as Victor slammed on the brakes, rear-ending the barricade. Before Victor could even process the airbag deploying, his driver-side door was ripped open. A pair of hands hauled him out of the vehicle and slammed him face-first onto the wet asphalt like a rabid dog.

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My best friend, Finn, lost everything to his ex-wife and had to move in with me. To cheer him up, I took him traveling, stayed up drinking with him, and even gave him an unlimited supplementary credit card. I just wanted to see him happy again. But my girlfriend, Ava, was unhappy. She complained constantly, thinking Finn was too spoiled. He insisted on being driven everywhere, refused to wear clothes twice, needed someone to shell his seafood, and would only eat the best parts of fruit. She snapped at me, asking if I was born to be his servant, adding that with that attitude, it was no wonder his wife left. I seriously told her I owed my success to Finn and asked her to be more patient for my sake. Later, I traveled to London for a business assessment. I video-chatted with Finn daily, seeing him slowly heal, start a new job, and rebuild his life. I finally felt at ease. Three months later, I returned home. The moment I walked in, I saw Finn lying on my sofa. Ava was skillfully shelling a king crab leg, placing the meat gently into his bowl. The tender look in her eyes was something I’d never seen before. 1 A dead silence fell over the room, broken only by the commentary of a soccer game on TV. Finn was the first to react. He scrambled up from the sofa and walked toward me, his face stiff. “Dean… when did you get back? You should have told us… I… I would have picked you up.” Ava stood quietly behind him, saying nothing. Finn forced a smile. “You must be tired. Let me get you a glass of water.” He turned and fumbled for a glass on the coffee table, knocking over the pitcher and sending water spilling across the floor. Ava frowned, grabbing a paper towel to clean it up. “Stop making a mess. You don’t know how to do any of this.” The words were a scolding, but the intimacy in her tone was unmistakable. The last shred of hope I was clinging to vanished. My hand tightened around the handle of my bag, the leather digging a deep red line into my palm. “When did this start?” Finn flinched, instinctively glancing back at Ava. But her expression was calm. She stepped forward, shielding him behind her. “It has nothing to do with him. It was me.” Her voice was as flat as if she were commenting on the weather. Ava was a force in the business world—decisive, ruthless, never one for sentiment. Outsiders always said she was cold, unapproachable. I was the only one who ever saw her emotional side. I used to think I was her only exception. But now, she stood against me, her placid tone drawing a line that firmly shut me out. Finn grew anxious. “No… Dean, listen to me, we’re not…” I just stared at him. His mouth opened and closed, but no coherent explanation came out. A cold laugh escaped my lips. “Can’t even come up with a decent lie?” Finn’s face went even paler. Ava took his wrist. “It’s okay,” she said, her voice low. “I’ll handle this.” She stepped toward me and took my luggage. “Dean, let’s go talk outside.” I stared at her face. It had only been three months, but she was a stranger to me. My chest felt tight, my voice sinking into a low growl. “Ava, this is my house. And you’re asking me to leave?” She was silent for a moment, then her voice softened with a hint of a plea. “Dean, please. He caught a cold yesterday. Can you just let him rest?” I pressed a hand to my chest. There was no wound, but it felt like I’d been punched, hard. Ava picked up her coat from the back of a chair and spoke gently to Finn. “You get some sleep. Leave the rest to me. I’ll bring you back those crab cakes from the Pier Street bistro when I’m done.” I turned and walked out. If I stayed another second, I wasn’t sure what I would do. In the hotel suite, Ava sat on a distant sofa. She poured herself a glass of water, took a few sips, and then spoke, her voice low. “It was my fault. Name your price.” “I fell for him first. Don’t blame him.” I stared at her, enunciating each word. “Why?” Ava set down her glass and rubbed her temples. “Dean, you’re smart, capable. You never panic. But Finn’s not like you. He can’t make it without me.” I looked at her face, distorted by the light refracting through the glass, and the absurdity of it all hit me. Before, when Finn was just my best friend, Ava couldn’t stand him. She called him a dramatic, spoiled brat who was completely out of touch with reality, a parasite who could only survive by clinging to others. Three months ago, when I had to leave for London, I had to practically beg her before she reluctantly agreed to lend him a hand if he needed it. She’d even shown a rare flash of petulance, punching me playfully on the shoulder. “Dean Grant, you haven’t even married me yet and I’m already stuck cleaning up your messes. You’d better make this up to me when you get back.” I had laughed and pulled her into my arms, promising her that as soon as the London project was over, we would get married. Now, just three short months later, everything had changed. Ava stood up, her expression a complex mixture of emotions. “I’m sorry. For the projects we worked on together, I’ll give you an extra 20% of my profits. And if you ever need my help in the future, just ask.” “I only have one condition. You’re incredibly important to Finn. He doesn’t want to lose you as a friend.” I looked up at her, almost laughing in disbelief. Three months ago, I had used that exact same reasoning to ask her to take care of my best friend. Three months later, I was the one being asked. My voice was dangerously low. “Ava, do you two think I was just born to be treated like this? I will make sure everyone knows what you did. If you had the guts to do it, you’d better have the guts to own it.” A flicker of something dark crossed her eyes. “Dean, don’t be impulsive. You started with nothing. It wasn’t easy getting to where you are. Don’t throw it all away in a moment of anger.” The warning in her voice was clear. I looked at her, a true stranger. People always said Ava was ruthless and unsentimental. I never believed them. Now I knew. The rumors were true. She had simply given all her sentiment to me, and now, she had taken it back to give to someone else. “I should go. He doesn’t sleep well when I’m not there.” “I’ll take him with me tomorrow. I’m sorry you have to go through this tonight.” The door clicked shut. I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes. Outside the window, the city lights glittered. I had rushed all the way home from across the world, only to be tossed into a cold, sterile hotel room while the two most important people in my life were in my home, in my bed. The irony was suffocating. The next day, I parked outside the dessert shop where Finn worked. He was in his uniform. His eyes lit up when he saw me, then he quickly looked down. He brought me a coffee and sat across from me, his smile stiff as he spoke hesitantly. “Dean, I know you’re mad at me. I’m so sorry. All these years, thanks to you…” “Look, I have a job now. I’ll pay you back everything I owe you…” I glanced at the watch on his wrist—it was worth tens of thousands of dollars—and let out a cold laugh. “Pay me back? With this job?” Finn froze. He had married right after college and became a stay-at-home husband. His ex-wife had been decent to him, putting up with his temperamental nature. Combined with my unconditional support, Finn’s life had been a breeze. Until six months ago, when his wife cheated on him with her male assistant. Within two months, she had divided their assets and kicked him out. If I hadn’t shown up, he probably would have been starving on the street. He wanted a fresh start, but he’d been out of the workforce for so long, he couldn’t handle a normal job. Luckily, he had developed a passion for baking during his time as a homemaker and managed to get a job as a pastry chef at this shop. I didn’t say anything. I just beckoned with my hand. The manager immediately came over, standing respectfully. “Mr. Grant, you’re here.” The color drained from Finn’s face. His eyes went wide. I took off my sunglasses, my voice even. “After your divorce, you were a wreck. You said you wanted to work, to start over.” “Finn, you’re not stupid. Did it never occur to you? You were getting rejected everywhere, so how did you just happen to land a job at this specific shop? Why would they hire a pastry chef with zero professional experience?” “I treated you like a brother. Is this how you repay me?” Finn’s hands started to shake, his voice cracking. “I didn’t know… I really didn’t know…” He suddenly grabbed my arm. “But she’s good to me. She really cares about me. Dean, you’re so strong. You can live without anyone. I can’t.” “You always said you’d share anything you have with me. I don’t want anything else. I just want her. Please?” I stared at him. Twenty-five years of friendship, since we were three years old. In that single moment, it shattered into a million pieces. “Growing up, I would have given you anything you asked for.” “But taking without asking, Finn? That’s called stealing.” When Ava arrived, she found Finn collapsed at my feet, sobbing uncontrollably. Her face changed instantly. She strode over, pulled him up, and sheltered him behind her. Her eyes, when they met mine, were terrifyingly cold. She spoke through gritted teeth. “Dean Grant, I told you to come after me. Don’t you dare make this hard for him.” “How much money has he spent of yours over the years? Just name a price. I’ll pay you back in full.” I looked at her and laughed. “You certainly have deep pockets. But unfortunately for you both, what you owe me is a debt you can never repay.” Ava’s face darkened, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Finn suddenly yelled, “Enough!” He was trembling, but he looked me straight in the eye. “Dean, you owe me this. Hate me, resent me, I don’t care. I’m not letting her go. From now on, we’re even.” He tore off his work apron, took Ava’s hand, and they walked away without a backward glance. I sat there by the window, watching two boys in school uniforms outside, sharing an ice cream, laughing. I reached up and touched my face. It was wet with tears. Finn and I had known each other since we were three. We were inseparable from elementary school through college. As long as I could remember, my parents were locked in a constant war. The only reason they never divorced was because neither of them wanted the burden of raising me. Every time they smashed the house to pieces, Finn would quietly let himself in, help me clean up the mess, and then drag me to his family’s dinner table. The year we graduated high school, it was Finn who sold his watch to pay for my first year of college tuition. He sucked on a popsicle, acting like it was nothing. “Hey, I suck at school, but you’re a genius. It’d be a waste for you not to go.” “Don’t look so down, Dean. I always knew you were special. When you make it big someday, just remember to buy me ten nice watches.” Throughout my entire youth, Finn was the first person who ever stood up for me. He was the brother I cherished most. When I finally went back to my apartment, there was no trace of them. I stood in the empty space for a long time. When I bought this place, I had set aside a room just for him. Ava had complained about it, but I just smiled and said it was a promise. I was the best man at his wedding. When he tossed me the boutonnière, I told him that as long as I was around, he would always have a home to come back to. Now, I was the one who was homeless. Ava had left some of her things behind. Her certificate from a university competition, photos from our vacations, our matching toothbrushes in the bathroom, the blanket on the sofa, the book on the coffee table she hadn’t finished. I closed my eyes, and all I could see were images of the two of them tangled together on that sofa. I stormed into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my face, then stared at my reflection. Ava had been my senior in college, my teammate in an entrepreneurship competition. The day she asked me out, she was uncharacteristically shy. “Dean, you’re the smartest, most reliable man I’ve ever met. Let me take care of you from now on.” After graduation, I worked in Big Tech for a couple of years before striking out on my own. Ava helped me immensely. She was my partner in battle, my closest confidant. Because of her, I started to heal from the shadows of my childhood and consider the idea of building a family. I truly intended to spend the rest of my life with her. I looked at myself in the mirror and clenched my fists. They were the reason I had fought so hard, the finish line for all my ambitions. And then they stabbed me in the back. Why? I took out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a long, long time.

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