1 It was the ninth time his first love made him play rock-paper-scissors to choose where he spent the night. Scissors. I threw paper. Chloe melted into his chest, voice dripping sweetness. “I won, Liam. You’re mine tonight.” He kissed her forehead, then glanced back at me. “Chloe’s mind is stuck at six after the accident. Try to understand.” She was twenty-four. Conveniently, she didn’t recall shoving me down the stairs and ending my pregnancy. Liam draped an arm around her, dropping it casually. “Fifteenth of next month, we renew our vows. Consider it my apology.” His friends in the living room burst out laughing. “Genius move. Keep Chloe happy and your wife hanging on.” “Your wife’s patience is unreal. I’d have left years ago.” “Where would she go? No family. Liam’s her whole world.” I kept my eyes on the floor, silent. Three days ago, I’d signed a three-year deployment contract with my medical NGO. Frontline triage. By the fifteenth, I’d be thousands of miles away. … The moment the divorce decree was handed to me, I stared at our two names printed on the paper for a very long time. Liam was already walking out the double doors, laughing and joking with his friends. He acted like we had just picked up milk from the grocery store, not legally ended our marriage. I gripped the small document, my fingernails biting painfully into my palms. Outside, someone was still running their mouth. “Liam, are you not worried she is actually going to pack up and leave this time?” “Leave?” Another guy scoffed. “Who else is she going to find after Liam? She is an orphan. He is the only safety net she has.” I walked out the doors right as the sentence finished. The guy who said it saw me. He did not even have the decency to look embarrassed. He just grinned and gave me a thumbs-up. “You are so understanding! Good for you.” Liam dropped his cigarette and crushed it under his boot before walking toward me. The group of guys naturally parted to let him through. He reached out and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin on the top of my head. His voice was low and gravelly. “I appreciate you doing this.” Always those same words. Along with the exact same excuse I had been fed for three years. Chloe’s older brother had served in the military with Liam. He took a fatal bullet meant for Liam. The trauma supposedly caused Chloe to regress mentally, and Liam felt he owed her brother his life. So I had to play along. I had to play along with her twisted little games. If she won, she was happy, and I was allowed to sleep in my own house. If I lost, I was exiled. Three years. Nine times. I never won. “It will be quick this time, I promise,” he murmured, patting my back. “A month, tops. Then I will come pick you up and bring you home.” I remained silent. Because this time, it was permanent. I pushed gently against his chest, taking a step backward. Liam raised an eyebrow, clearly assuming I was just throwing a minor tantrum. He opened his mouth to pacify me, but his phone buzzed in his pocket. It was Chloe. He answered. Her frantic, tearful voice bled through the speaker. Liam’s expression shifted instantly. He morphed into the gentle, devoted protector. “Okay, okay. I am coming right back. Do not cry, please.” He hung up and looked at me, a flash of annoyance crossing his face. “Chloe is having an episode. About our anniversary dinner tonight—” “Save it.” I cut him off. “Go to her. I am going back to the apartment to pack my things.” He frowned. “Pack what?” “I am moving out.” “Sienna, do not be—” “Liam.” I looked dead into his eyes. “What if I told you I am done waiting?” He froze. His phone started ringing again. Chloe, blowing up his line. He glanced down at the screen, letting out a sharp breath of frustration. “Just go back to the apartment. We will talk about this after I calm Chloe down.” He pulled open the door of his SUV, the engine roaring to life. The taillights vanished down the street in seconds. He did not even wait for my answer. I stood on the concrete steps of the courthouse, the evening wind whipping the hem of my dress around my legs. I had crushed the divorce decree into a wrinkled ball in my fist. Three years. Every single time, he told me to “just wait until Chloe gets better.” When exactly was that going to happen? He never had an answer. A dull, heavy cramp pulsed in my lower abdomen. I grabbed the cold metal railing, waiting for the pain to pass. Eight weeks pregnant. He had no idea. I was planning to tell him at dinner tonight. Whatever. I let go of the railing, slowly walked down the steps, and flagged a yellow cab. “Take me to the nearest women’s clinic, please.” By the time the cab dropped me off at the house, the sky was pitch black. The newly hired housekeeper physically blocked me from walking through the front door. “Who are you? We do not accept uninvited guests.” Our older housekeeper, Maria, came running from the kitchen. “Are you blind?! This is the missus!” “It is fine. Do not yell at her.” My voice was hollow. After all, I had been kicked out of my own home so many times over the last three years, it made perfect sense that the new staff did not recognize me. I pushed the door open. The entire house was suffocating with traces of Chloe. Pink throw pillows swallowed the living room sofa. Her crayon drawings were plastered across the fridge. Her white sneakers were front and center on the shoe rack. My wedding photo with Liam had been taken down six months ago. Because Chloe said looking at it “made her uncomfortable.” I walked into the storage closet and dug out a rusted metal tin. Inside were a few unsent letters, a single photograph, and a handful of faded boarding passes. In the picture, I was wearing a kevlar vest, my face covered in dirt, grinning widely outside a medical tent. Liam stood next to me. His white coat was speckled with blood. He had that exhausted, profound gentleness in his eyes that only existed in a war zone. I had done two truly brave things in my life. The first was ignoring my family’s outrage to join a frontline medical NGO at twenty-one. The second was grabbing Liam by his collar and kissing him on a night when mortar fire collapsed half our compound. An airstrike had leveled the medical bay. I was buried under the rubble, two of my ribs fractured, my face slick with my own blood. Liam dug me out with his bare hands. Down in the bunker, with flares lighting up the sky, I was shaking from the agonizing pain. I grabbed his shirt. “Kiss me. If we do not make it to morning, I at least want to die knowing the guy I like kissed me.” His eyes filled with tears, and he pressed his lips against mine. Just once. In that single second, I thought even if I died, I had won. The photograph was suddenly snatched out of my hand. “Ew, this girl is so ugly. Her face is filthy.” Chloe tilted her head, inspecting the photo, then looked at me. “Liam looks so handsome, though.” Her eyes zeroed in on the metal tin in my lap, lighting up with greed. “Wow, this box is so cute! Can I play with it?” Inside the box was a silver bracelet. Liam had woven it out of surgical wire and spent bullet casings while we were deployed. It was crude and crooked. It was the most precious thing I owned. Chloe had already grabbed it. “Why are you hoarding this ugly piece of junk?” With a flick of her wrist, she violently slammed the bracelet against the hardwood floor. The cheap silver clasp snapped. The brass casings scattered across the room. Liam walked through the front door at that exact second. Chloe instantly dove behind him. “Liam! She was going to hit me! I just wanted to look at her things and she got so mean!” Liam did not even look at the broken pieces on the floor. “It is just a piece of scrap metal, Sienna. Is it really worth the drama?” “Can you stop acting like a child and just be the bigger person?” I dropped to my knees, picking up the bullet casings one by one. My hands were shaking violently. “Is that what you think of me? You think I am a bully?” He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. I gathered the scattered brass and the broken surgical wire into the palm of my hand. I stood up and walked over to the kitchen trash can. I let go. The metal clattered loudly as it hit the bottom of the bin. Liam stared at the trash can. For a split second, his stoic mask completely fractured. His voice rose in sudden fury. “What is your problem, Sienna?” I looked at him with absolute, dead calm. “You both said it was junk. So I threw the junk away. Is there an issue?” His chest heaved as he struggled to find an argument. Chloe tugged hard on his sleeve. “Liam, just ignore her! Let’s play a game!” “Rock-paper-scissors. If I win—” She looked directly at my stomach, a sickeningly sweet smile on her face. “You have to make her get rid of the baby. Okay?” The living room descended into a terrifying, suffocating silence. I laughed. Tears spilled hotly down my cheeks as I laughed. Liam’s face darkened. For the first time, he did not immediately cave to her demands. Chloe wrapped her arms around his bicep, shaking him violently. “Liam! Say yes! I want to play!” I wiped the tears off my face. “Say yes, Liam. Add my unborn child to the pile of toys you use to keep her entertained.” “Just like our marriage.” Liam closed his eyes, his jaw clenched tight. “I am sorry, Chloe. We cannot play that.” Chloe let out a piercing, hysterical scream. She grabbed a glass cup off the counter, hurled it at the wall, and ran barefoot over the shattered glass toward the stairs. Liam did not hesitate. He sprinted after her. As he ran past me, he froze for a microsecond. His lips parted. But he kept running. Chloe’s agonizing wails echoed down the staircase. I stood completely alone in the center of the living room, surrounded by broken glass. I went back to the apartment and turned on the lights. A familiar international number lit up my phone screen. “Miss, regarding the agreement you made with your father.” “Since your marriage to Mr. Davis did not survive the three-year probationary period, you are required to return to Switzerland and meet with the matches the family has arranged.” “We will send a car for you within the week.” “Understood, Arthur.” I hung up the phone, leaned against the heavy oak door, and slid slowly down to the floor. Years ago, I had defied my father to marry Liam, and it resulted in this exact wager. At the time, shrapnel had severed the tendons in Liam’s left hand. His career as a surgeon was over. He was forced to take over his family’s failing pharmaceutical company, working himself half to death. I never told him about the wager because I did not want to add to his burden. I never expected to lose so pathetically. The front door lock suddenly beeped and clicked open. Chloe stood in the center of my apartment. In her hands, she held a pale celadon porcelain jar. It was my mother’s urn. Not all of her ashes, but a small handful she had asked me to keep with me so she could always be close. The passcode to this apartment was only known by me and Liam. “Put that down.” My voice was trembling violently. Chloe smiled, looking utterly innocent. “What is this? It is such a pretty little jar. I am going to take it home and put my candy in it!” “Liam said what is yours is his, and what is his is mine—” I lunged forward to grab it from her. She dodged backward. Her fingers intentionally slipped. The urn dropped from her hands. It shattered against the hardwood floor. Pale gray dust plumed into the air, settling over the wood. The world went completely, terrifyingly silent. Chloe casually brushed the dust off her fingertips. “Oops. It slipped.” Footsteps pounded down the hallway. Liam had chased her here. He walked in to find me collapsed on my knees, the shattered porcelain, and Chloe cowering in the corner. “Chloe, what happened?” Her eyes instantly flooded with fake tears. “She… she pushed me! I just wanted to look at the pretty jar…” Liam grabbed my arm, yanking me upward. “What is wrong with you?! She has the mind of a child! Why would you get physical with her?!” My entire body shook uncontrollably. I pointed a trembling finger at the shattered pieces on the floor. “That was my mother… Liam, that was the only thing I had left of my mother!” “Why the hell did you give her the passcode?! Why did you let her touch my things!” “It is just a damn jar! I will buy you ten of them!” “Sienna, can you stop creating drama out of absolutely nothing!” He pulled Chloe securely behind his back and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. I fell back onto my knees. I gathered the broken shards, piece by piece, my hands shaking so badly they bled. The ash clung to the cuts on my fingers. I could not get it back. Mom. I am so sorry. A long, long time passed. I picked up my phone and dialed the clinic. “I need to schedule an abortion. Tomorrow. As early as possible.” The procedure took an eternity. When the anesthesia finally wore off, the agonizing cramps hit me in relentless waves. I lay in the sterile hospital bed for twenty-four hours. The next morning, I ignored the nurses’ warnings and signed my discharge papers. I had to leave. As fast and as far as humanly possible. Taking advantage of Liam being at work, I went back to the main house to grab my passport and documents. Chloe was sitting on the living room rug, playing with a set of Chinese checkers. I had bought them for her months ago, trying to buy some peace. When she saw me, she looked up. The timid, frightened little girl was completely gone. Instead, she crossed her legs and gave me a chilling, triumphant smirk. The smile made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “You already signed the divorce papers. Why are you still crawling back here?” Her voice was sharp, articulate, and completely lucid. It was not the voice of a six-year-old. It was the aggressive, calculating taunt of a grown woman. I froze in my tracks. She stood up slowly. She opened the drawer of the coffee table, pulled out a medical file, and casually tossed it at my feet. It was a hospital discharge summary. Under the diagnosis, it read: Mild Anxiety Disorder. Fully Recovered. There was no memory loss. No mental regression. And on the signature line for the attending guardian… was Liam. Black ink on white paper. Undeniable. “You get it now?” She leaned against the sofa, crossing her arms over her chest. “I was cured three years ago. The doctor signed off on it. Liam went to the follow-up appointment with me and signed off on it.” “Amnesia? The mind of a child?” She let out a cruel, mocking laugh. “It was an act, honey.” I stared at the three letters of his signature. My vision began to blur. He was not being manipulated. He knew. From the very beginning, he knew. Chloe walked right up to me, tilting her head. “You must feel incredibly pathetic. Three years. Kicked out nine times. You played rock-paper-scissors nine times and never won a single round.” “But think about it. Every time you packed your bags and left, did Liam ever try to stop you?” “He did not. Did he?” “Because he never actually cared if you stayed or left.” Her tone was so light and airy, like she was discussing the weather. “You were just a tool for him to clear his conscience. My brother took a bullet for him. He owes my family a blood debt for the rest of his life.” “What are you? His wife?” She laughed out loud. “You are just a minor footnote in his ledger of guilt.” I did not cry. I did not scream at her. I bent down, picked up the medical file, folded it neatly, and placed it back in the drawer. From start to finish, I did not say a single word. Her smug smile faltered for a second. She clearly had not expected this reaction. I walked out of the house and hailed a cab. In the backseat, I pulled up the text Liam had sent me last night. He wrote: “I am taking you to your ultrasound tomorrow. Remember to fast.” I typed out seven words and hit send. “Do not bother. The baby is gone.” Then, I permanently deleted every single social media account I owned. I snapped my SIM card in half and threw the pieces into a trash can at the terminal. The airport was packed with travelers. I sat at my boarding gate, my suitcase by my side. The intercom announced flight updates in three different languages. I reached over and touched my bare left wrist—the exact spot where that bullet casing bracelet had sat for three years. I whispered into the empty air. “Goodbye, Liam. Forever.” — When Liam read the text message, his hand froze, the coffee cup hovering near his mouth. The baby is gone? What a sick joke. She wanted to be a mother more than anything in the world. The second she found out she was pregnant, she refused to even wear heels. She was just trying to punish him. Once she cooled off, a few soft words would fix everything. It was always like this. He put his phone face down on the desk. He figured he would pick up some of her favorite pastries in a few days, apologize, and they would move past this. But two days passed. The apologetic phone call from Sienna never came. Instead, while cleaning out Chloe’s room, he found a medical file shoved under some magazines. Mild Anxiety Disorder. Fully Recovered. Attending Guardian: Liam Davis. The date was exactly three years ago. But he had never signed this document in his life. He stared at the piece of paper, his knuckles turning stark white. He grabbed his phone and frantically dialed Sienna’s number. “We are sorry. The number you have reached is no longer in service—”

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1 On the day I was diagnosed as brain-dead, I laughed. Because I believed I had been reborn. In that beautiful, fleeting vision, I didn’t go to prison to cover for my sister. Instead, I passed my exams, got into a prestigious university, met a wonderful man, and was about to walk down the aisle into a beautiful marriage. But just as I reached out to take my groom’s hand, the scene began to dissolve. The brilliant lights faded into a crushing, suffocating darkness. The music died, replaced by the sterile smell of hospital disinfectant and the rhythmic, hollow beep of medical monitors. There was no fiancé, no justice, and no fresh start. The wonderful life I had just lived was nothing more than a dying brain’s final, cruel trick, a dream from which I could never truly wake. Above me, a familiar voice trembled with tears. “Dr. Brooks, please. Is there really no other way? Can we really not just turn off the machines?” It was my mother, Martha. Her voice was thick with weeping. All my life, whenever my half-sister, Gemma, and I had a conflict, my mother would adopt this exact same tearful, pleading face, always begging me to make the sacrifice. “Mrs. Lane,” the doctor replied, his voice calm and professional. “The patient is in a deep, vegetative coma.” “Though her breathing is incredibly weak, the ventilator is keeping her stable. Pulling the plug means immediate death. As her mother, have you fully considered this?” My mind screamed in terror. Vegetative state? Pulling the plug? Immediate death? I fought to cry out. I’m not dead! I can hear you! I’m still in here! Mother, please, save me! But my body refused to respond. Not even a finger would twitch. “I’ve made up my mind,” Martha sobbed, her hand gently brushing against my cheek. Her palm was warm, just as it had been for the twenty-odd years she used to tuck me into bed. But the words that followed froze the very blood in my veins. “It’s been three years. Grace was beaten so badly in that place, and she has lain here like a corpse ever since. She has suffered too much.” “Since she can’t wake up, letting her go is a mercy.” She sniffled, her voice catching as she continued. “Besides, today… today is Gemma’s wedding day.” “Gemma told me she has carried this guilt in her heart for years. She said as long as her sister is lingering like this, she will never be able to find peace in her marriage.” “Doctor, Grace already took the blame for her sister once.” “Today is a joyous day. Let her leave this world in peace. Let her passing clear the air for her sister’s wedding. We shouldn’t let her linger and ruin the auspicious hour.” A cold horror washed over me. Took the blame? Clear the air? My chest felt incredibly tight. I wanted to scream, to laugh at the absurdity of it, but my throat was blocked, and no tears would come. Five years ago, a car with a blood-stained hood had pulled into our yard. Gemma had huddled in the corner of the sofa, shaking violently. Our mother had fallen to her knees, clutching my legs. “Grace! I beg of you! Your sister has the civil service entrance exam next month!” “She can’t have a criminal record! You’re the younger sister, and you don’t have a career yet. Just help me this once. Go to the station and tell them you were the one driving!” I had stared at my mother in utter disbelief. “Mom! She hit someone and fled the scene! You want me to take the fall for that?” “I will go to prison! Stand up, we need to call the police. Let Gemma turn herself in; maybe they’ll show her mercy!” I had tried to pull her up, crying. “No! Grace, Gemma doesn’t have a father. She only has me!” “If you don’t save her, I will end my life right in front of you!” My mother had begun striking herself across the face, over and over, until blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. “Just let it go, Grace. I beg of you, please…” “I will spend the rest of my life making this up to you, I swear!” That desperate plea had sent me to the police station in Gemma’s place. Because I couldn’t bear to watch my mother destroy herself, I took a seven-year sentence. But I didn’t receive any compensation. All I found in that prison was living hell. 2 The sharp click of high heels drew near, the scent of expensive perfume cutting through the smell of disinfectant. “Mom, what did the doctor say?” Gemma asked. My mother’s voice turned anxious. “Gemma, why are you here in your wedding dress? That’s bad luck!” “Today is my big day, how could I not come to see my sister?” The sound of rustling fabric followed as she stepped closer to my bed. “Grace, look at me. Isn’t your sister beautiful today?” “This gown is custom-made. Nolan had it flown in from Paris just for me.” Gemma’s tone was filled with a familiar, condescending triumph. She reached down, her hand resting on the back of my wrist. In the next second, her manicured nails dug deep into the tender flesh of my inner arm. She pinched, twisting her fingers a full hundred and eighty degrees. An agonizing pain flared through my arm, but I couldn’t make a sound. “Oh, her hands are so cold,” Gemma gasped, her voice dripping with mock concern. She dug her nails in even deeper, puncturing the skin until a thin trickle of blood began to seep out. My mother wiped her eyes. “Yes, she’s had a hard life. Gemma, you really are a wonderful sister.” “If Grace could feel this, knowing you came to see her in your wedding dress, she would be so comforted.” I felt a bitter, freezing anger. Mother, open your eyes! Look at what your precious daughter is doing! She is mutilating your child right in front of you! “Mrs. Lane,” the doctor called out. “Since you’ve made your decision, please sign the consent form to withdraw life support.” “Once we remove the tube, she will pass away from respiratory failure within ten minutes.” “Alright… I’ll sign,” Martha’s voice shook. I screamed in the silence of my mind, begging her not to. I tried to focus every ounce of my will on my fingertips, desperate to make them move, but my body remained heavy and unresponsive. Despair settled over me like a shroud. The door to the room opened. “Gemma, why are you still here? The wedding cars have been waiting downstairs for over half an hour.” “We’re going to miss the entrance hour.” Footsteps stopped near the foot of my bed. It was Nolan. He was the university senior I had secretly loved for four years, and now, he was Gemma’s fiancé. Gemma let go of my arm, her voice turning soft. “Nolan, I just couldn’t leave her. Seeing her like this, how can I focus on my wedding?” “Why are you wasting your tears on her? She’s just a convict,” Nolan said, his voice laced with disgust. “She was jealous of everything you had, so she stole your car and ran someone over.” “She deserved to be locked up. Honestly, being beaten into a vegetable in prison is just karma catching up to her.” The sheer absurdity of his words made me want to laugh. Gemma was the one who had taken my car that rainy night. When she came back covered in blood, I was the one who took the fall. Nolan knew nothing of the truth; he only saw the sweet, fragile victim Gemma played so well. “Nolan, don’t say that about my sister. She… she was just impulsive.” “She’s spent three years paying for her mistake. She’s suffered enough,” Gemma murmured. “You’re too kind, Gemma. A cold-blooded criminal like her doesn’t deserve your sympathy.” Nolan turned to my mother. “Mrs. Lane, if you’ve made your decision, please sign the papers. Keeping this depressing presence around on Gemma’s wedding day is only going to bring bad luck to the marriage.” Depressing presence. The words stung, and a hot spark of rage flared in my chest. I wondered how my mother would react to someone speaking about me that way. Martha only sighed. “Yes, Nolan is right.” “Gemma, your sister wouldn’t want to stand in the way of your happiness.” She reached into her bag, and the scent of mothballs drifted over the bed. “I bought this floral dress for Grace when she turned eighteen,” my mother said softly. “It was her favorite. Once she passes, I’ll burn it for her.” “She came into this world clean, and she should leave it clean.” “Her father won’t blame her when she meets him on the other side.” My mother’s tears fell onto my blanket. I knew she loved me in her own weak, twisted way. When we were kids, she would secretly save treats for me. When Gemma hurt me, she would quietly apply ointment to my cuts when no one was looking. But her weakness had allowed her to sacrifice me to protect Gemma, and now, she was about to end my life. This wasn’t a mercy. I was fully conscious. Even when those three inmates had held my head under the water in the prison washroom, I had never given up on the hope of living. Even when my skull was fractured and the blood ran hot down my face, I wanted to survive to look my mother in the eye. I wanted to ask her if I had finally paid my debt of birth to her. And now, she was going to pull the plug herself, just so she wouldn’t delay Gemma’s wedding. “Mrs. Martha Lane, please sign here.” “Once you sign, we will turn off the ventilator and remove the tube,” the nurse instructed. The sound of a pen scratching against paper filled the quiet room. My mother’s hand was shaking, the pen clattering against the table. “Mrs. Lane, just sign. It’s better to end the pain quickly,” Nolan urged. I waited in the dark for the end. The beautiful dream of my wedding was gone, leaving me to face the harsh reality of my death. My mother leaned down, her tear-stained cheek pressing against mine. “Grace… I’m so sorry.” “In your next life, find a better mother. Don’t be my daughter again.” “I was too weak to protect you.” The pen moved. She signed her name. The steady line on the heart monitor began to waver, and a cold dread settled deep in my chest. 3 Nolan took the form and handed it to the doctor. “It’s signed. Thank you, doctor.” “Very well. The extubation process can sometimes cause involuntary spasms.” “The sight can be distressing for family members. If you wish, you may wait outside,” the doctor advised. “Nolan, why don’t you help the doctor prepare the equipment?” Gemma suggested. “I want to stay with my sister for a few more minutes, just to say goodbye.” Nolan placed a hand on her shoulder. “Alright. Don’t be too sad. I’ll be waiting just outside the door.” “Mrs. Lane, why don’t you come out and get some fresh air too?” “No! I want to stay with my Grace…” my mother wept. “Mom! Please go outside!” Gemma’s voice hardened, her tone leaving no room for argument. The weeping stopped. My mother had never dared to cross Gemma. As the footsteps retreated and the door clicked shut, only Gemma and I remained in the room. I heard the slide of the lock. Gemma climbed onto a chair, her heels clicking against the plastic as she reached up to switch off the security camera. A chill ran down my spine. What was she planning to do? She walked back to my bedside, a soft, malicious laugh escaping her lips. “Finally… it’s finally over, my dear sister.” She leaned down, her weight pressing heavily against my chest, making it difficult to breathe. She brought her lips close to my ear. “Do you want to know why I insisted on watching you die today?” “Because yesterday, the nurse called me. She said your finger had twitched.” “I couldn’t risk you waking up.” The heart monitor began to beep more rapidly, the lines spiking on the screen. Gemma reached out, her fingers pinching my jaw, pressing down with brutal force. “Save your energy. Even if you can hear me, what does it matter?” “In a few minutes, you’ll be nothing but a corpse.” She smiled, her voice a cruel whisper. “Grace, you must feel so betrayed.” “You took the fall for me.” “And yet, you still ended up with a fractured skull in prison, turned into this pathetic, half-dead creature.” My mind reeled. Did she arrange the attack in prison? “That’s right. Those three inmates? I paid them to take care of you.” “Our foolish mother kept talking about trying to get your sentence reduced. She wanted you out early.” “But you had to stay quiet. You had to remain a useless vegetable so Nolan would stay with me. The only stain on my past had to be buried forever,” Gemma laughed, her voice dripping with malice. She was completely insane. I fought with everything I had to move, to strike back, but my body remained a useless cage. This was the reward for sacrificing my future. This was the daughter my mother had risked everything to protect. “Oh, and as a parting gift, I’ll share one last secret with you.” Gemma’s fingers slid down to my throat, resting right over my carotid artery. “That rainy night, the car didn’t slide on the wet road.” “The old woman was blocking my path, muttering to herself. I was annoyed, so I just stepped on the gas.” “I had no idea she would fly so far,” Gemma said casually. It wasn’t an accident. It was murder. The monitor’s alarm began to shriek as my heart rate spiked to a dangerous hundred and forty. Pure, unadulterated fury and hatred flooded my veins. “Why is the door locked? Gemma! Open the door!” “The alarms are going off! The doctor says she’s fading!” my mother’s frantic voice called out, banging on the glass. Gemma stepped back, delivering a sharp slap to my face. “Go to hell, sister.” She walked to the door and unlocked it. The door was pushed open, and the doctor, nurses, Nolan, and my mother rushed inside. “Doctor! Look at the monitor! Why is her heart beating so fast?” “Is she getting better?” my mother cried, pointing at the screen. “It’s not an improvement. She suddenly started convulsing earlier. She must be in so much pain.” “Doctor, please, help her find peace!” Gemma sobbed, her face instantly shifting back into a mask of grief. The doctor checked the vitals. “This is just involuntary neural activity before death. We need to proceed with the extubation; otherwise, she will only suffer more.” The physical pain of death was nothing compared to the agony in my soul. 4 “Step back, please,” the nurse said, pushing my mother away. The doctor stepped to the head of the bed, his hand resting on the ventilator’s power switch. Another nurse picked up medical scissors, preparing to cut the tape holding the tube in place. “My sweet Grace!” Just as the doctor was about to flip the switch, my mother let out a desperate cry and threw herself forward, grabbing the nurse’s hand. A tiny spark of hope flared in my chest. I thought she had finally realized the truth and was going to stop them. Even at the edge of death, I was still foolish enough to hope for her love. But her next words shattered that hope forever. She didn’t push the nurse away. Instead, she reached out and grasped the breathing tube herself. “Doctor… let me do it. I’m her mother… let me send her on her way.” Her warm tears fell onto my face, feeling colder than ice. “Grace, don’t hate me. I don’t want to let you go.” “But Gemma is getting married today. She can’t carry this burden into her new life…” “You want what’s best for your sister, too, don’t you? Just… help her one last time.” “Go in peace, my good child. I’ll be right here with you. Find a better home in your next life.” Help her one last time. Those words completely severed the remaining bond between us. What right did they have to decide my death? Gemma was a murderer. And Martha was her blind accomplice, ready to kill her own child to clear the way for a monster. Why should a murderer walk down the aisle while I was choked to death in a sterile room? I refused to accept this. If I was going down, I was going to drag both of them into the dark with me. The ventilator was switched off. The oxygen supply died, and a terrifying, suffocating panic gripped my body. But in that agony of suffocation, a surge of adrenaline flooded my system. My mother’s hand began to pull the tube from my throat. Gemma’s lips curved into a triumphant smile, and Nolan let out a sigh of relief. But in that exact second, my body convulsed violently. The eyes that had been sealed shut for three years snapped wide open. My bloodshot eyes stared straight up at the ceiling. “Ah!” The nurse let out a sharp scream, dropping her scissors onto the tile floor. The room went dead silent. “Grace…?” My mother froze, her hand still holding the tube. She began to tremble, her terror turning into a sudden, desperate hope. “A miracle… it’s a miracle! Doctor! My daughter is awake! She doesn’t want to die!” “She wants to live!” my mother sobbed, letting go of the tube and reaching out to hold me. But it was too late. I opened my dry, cracked lips, a raspy sound escaping my throat. Before her hand could touch my face, my arm shot up. I grabbed her wrist with terrifying strength, my fingernails digging deep into her skin. My mother gasped in pain, staring at me in shock. Near the door, the smile on Gemma’s face froze, replaced by pure terror. Nolan quickly stepped in front of her, shielding her. I didn’t look at either of them. My eyes remained locked on Martha. Looking at the tears and the sudden hope on her face, I felt a deep wave of revulsion. Ignoring the agony in my throat, I used my free hand to grab the breathing tube. Under the shocked gazes of everyone in the room, I ripped the tube from my own windpipe. A spray of dark blood splattered across my mother’s face and stained the pristine white skirt of Gemma’s wedding gown. “Grace! What are you doing? Are you mad?” My mother lunged forward to stop the bleeding, but I threw her hand off. The sudden rush of cold air into my damaged lungs sent a burning pain through my chest. I let out a harsh, wet laugh, spitting blood onto the sheets as I stared at her. My voice was a ragged whisper, but it cut through the room. “Mom… you wanted me to die so she could have her perfect wedding?” I turned my head slowly, my eyes sliding past Gemma to rest on Nolan’s face. “You don’t know the truth, do you?” “Nolan… the old woman Gemma ran down on that rainy night…” The room was completely silent, save for the sound of my ragged breathing. “That was your grandmother, the one who went missing ten years ago.”

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1 Mike slapped his own face three times in front of both our families last month, swearing on his life that he had cut off all ties with his mistress, his yoga instructor. To prove his commitment, he even changed all his bank PINs to my birthday. Just now, an unsaved contact sent a text to his phone. I’m sick. I’m all alone at the hospital and so scared. Can you come see me? St. Jude’s was only a ten-minute Uber ride from our house. Watching his frantic silhouette as he rushed to shove his feet into his shoes, I stood in the living room holding my mug, letting out a cold, mocking laugh. “In such a rush? Why don’t you take the Tylenol from the cabinet? Hell, take a couple of condoms while you’re at it.” Mike froze mid-motion, then stood up to glare at me, his eyes dripping with pure irritation. “Diana, I’ve committed to this marriage again. Do you have to be so incredibly toxic?” “Do you want her to die just to prove a point?” Looking at his self-righteous, blaming face, I finally saw him for what he was. Fine, Mike. If you walk out that door tonight, don’t bother ever coming back. “Mike, do you seriously think changing a couple of PINs is enough to wash the filth out of your brain?” I stared at him, my voice like ice. His hands paused on his laces. He spun around, his forehead creasing into a deep, frustrated scowl. “Diana, are we really doing this again?” “I told you, Sienna has no one in this city. She’s got acute gastroenteritis and is hooked up to an IV at the ER. What’s wrong with a former colleague dropping off some medicine?” “A former colleague?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Do you need me to remind you how many highly advanced positions you two unlocked on a yoga mat last month as former colleagues?” Mike’s face instantly flushed crimson. He stepped closer, pointing a finger right at my face, his voice a low, furious hiss. “I apologized for that! I literally slapped myself in front of your parents!” “For a whole month, I’ve come straight home after work. I handed over my credit cards. What more do you want from me?” “Do you have to act like a bitter, hysterical housewife and make this place a living hell?” The sheer audacity of his defense made my stomach churn with nausea. A month ago, I had thrown a stack of private investigator photos right at his face. Pictures of him and Sienna tangled up in a bed at a boutique hotel. Back then, he had dropped to his knees, weeping, begging for forgiveness, claiming it was just a temporary lapse in judgment, pleading with me to save our seven-year relationship. He had put on a grand show of remorse in front of our families, striking his own face hard enough to leave bruises. He changed his PINs to my birthday and canceled his VIP membership at her studio. I had been foolish enough to believe him. I thought if I just swallowed the humiliation, we could patch up the cracks in our marriage. But a dog doesn’t stop eating trash. A cheater never learns loyalty. I watched him fume, then turned, walked to the sofa, and slid an iPad out from under a throw pillow. “You really are a great actor, Mike.” “Coming home on time, letting me check your phone… a reformed husband of the year.” I tapped the screen and tossed the iPad onto his chest. “Then explain this.” Mike caught the tablet clumsily, looking down at the screen. In an instant, every drop of color drained from his face. 2 The screen displayed the synced data log of his brand-new smartwatch. He bought it last month, claiming it was to track his sleep. But earlier this afternoon, I logged into our shared family account and found his fitness app was secretly linked to another user. The profile picture was a mirror selfie of Sienna in tight yoga wear. “Every night at 11 PM, your heart rate spikes to 120,” I said, trapping his gaze as I stripped away his mask. “And at those exact same times, Sienna’s sleep log shows she enters an active state.” “Tell me, Mike. Are you two having spiritual affairs in the cloud?” Mike’s lips trembled. He instinctively tucked his wrist behind his back, trying to hide the watch face glowing with a faint blue light. “This… this is a system glitch. I have no idea how her account got linked!” He was desperate, grasping at straws. “Maybe it synced automatically when we were on the same Wi-Fi at the studio…” “Does the Wi-Fi automatically sync her period tracker too?” I cut him off with a harsh laugh, swiping my finger across the screen. The page shifted. Sienna’s menstrual cycle was highlighted with little pink hearts. Right next to it was a customized reminder: Baby’s cycle. Remember to get her favorite heating pads and dark chocolate. The reminder was set for this morning. Mike went completely silent. After a heavy, suffocating beat, his panic morphed into raw, ugly rage. “You’re spying on me?!” He slammed the iPad down onto the sofa, glaring at me with bared teeth. “Diana, you’re a psycho! Checking my phone, tracking my watch… you need help!” “I told you we’re over, but you just have to use these stupid, meaningless numbers to torture me!” “Yes, I’m the problem,” I said, inhaling deeply to suppress the sharp, tearing ache in my chest. “If I’m so toxic, get the hell out. Go to the hospital and find your pure, sweet Sienna.” Mike snatched his car keys off the entryway table and flung the door open without looking back. “Fine, Diana! Don’t come crawling back!” “I only regret being blind enough to marry a spineless piece of garbage like you,” I fired back. “You think I actually want to stay in this freezing cold house?” Mike stood in the doorway, one foot out, looking at me with absolute contempt. “Look at yourself, Diana. Look at the hysterical mess you are.” “Your hair is a disaster, you don’t even wear makeup anymore, and you spend all day obsessing over every little thing I do.” “Compare that to Sienna. Even when she’s sick, she’s ten times sweeter and more understanding than you’ll ever be!” He finally said the quiet part out loud. I stood frozen in the middle of the room, watching the man I had loved for seven years, feeling the blood in my veins slowly turn to ice. So that was it. The exhaustion and weariness on my face, the toll of keeping our household running, was just an excuse for his disgust. And the homewrecker who crept into our lives was his precious, delicate muse. I didn’t argue. I walked over to the TV stand and pulled open the bottom drawer. I took out a crumpled hospital bill and a printed insurance policy document. Walking back to the door, I threw both papers straight at his face. “If she’s so perfect, Mike, why the hell did you marry me?” “You talk about how pitiful she is, but what about this $500,000 critical illness insurance policy?” Mike looked down at the scattered papers, his pupils shrinking. It was an insurance policy he had secretly bought for Sienna three months ago, with her mother listed as the sole beneficiary. And the premium had been paid directly from our joint account, the one we had saved up to buy our future home. “You… you went through my study?” he roared, his voice cracking with rage. “The truth always comes out,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Did you forget, Mike? Did you forget how I nearly died on an operating table a year ago?” 3 This time last year, I was rushed to the ER with a ruptured ectopic pregnancy. The doctors needed a family signature. I called Mike’s phone over and over. But all I got was the empty, robotic ring back tone. I almost bled out on that table. When he finally showed up, what was his excuse? He said he was hosting a massive client at a golf resort and had left his phone in his locker. He sat by my hospital bed, holding my cold hand, weeping louder than I was, swearing he would spend the rest of his life making it up to me. And I believed him. I dragged my weak, broken body through those dark days, keeping our home together. But last month, when I went through his phone, I found the truth. He wasn’t with any client. He was at a luxury hot spring resort in the next state, celebrating Sienna’s twenty-fourth birthday. He had posted a photo on his feed, hidden from everyone except Sienna, captioned: To my girl, may you always smile like this. While his wife was signing her own critical consent form in a pool of her own blood. “And now you’re telling me she’s the victim?” I stepped closer, locking my eyes onto his. “She used my money for her insurance, she used my money for her hotels. How is she the victim?” “The only victim was my unborn baby, who never even got a chance to breathe!” “And me, the idiot who let you lie to her face!” Mike recoiled slightly. But there was no remorse on his face. Only the defensive, ugly irritation of a man caught in a lie. “Diana, can you stop bringing up ancient history?” He yanked at his collar, his voice cold and dismissive. “The doctor literally said ectopic pregnancies are just a genetic fluke, a matter of probability!” “You’re just using it as an excuse to blame Sienna. Is this really fun for you?” “Besides, I didn’t know you were in danger. If I had known, do you honestly think I wouldn’t have come back?” My breath caught in my throat. A genetic fluke. A matter of probability. With a single, careless sentence, he erased his cruelty and betrayal. He even managed to make it my fault. Looking at his contorted, angry face, I felt a sudden, profound sense of detachment. Was this really the boy who used to run two miles through a blizzard just to bring me a warm cup of coffee on campus? No. The moment he climbed into Sienna’s bed, that Mike died. The creature standing in front of me was a hollow, selfish monster, stripped of any remaining humanity. “Mike, you make me sick.” The words fell from my lips, heavy and deliberate. I looked at him like he was a stain on the floor. That look seemed to pierce his ego. He raised a hand, his face twisting as if he wanted to strike me, but he stopped himself, his hand trembling in mid-air. “Fine, Diana. You’re the saint, you’re the victim.” He spat, pointing a finger at me. “Since you can’t stand her so much, I’m going to the hospital to bring her back here myself.” “Let’s see what the hell you’re going to do about it!” Right then, the phone in his pocket began to vibrate violently. A custom ringtone cut through the suffocating silence of the hallway. Mike pulled it out. As his eyes hit the screen, his hostile expression melted into something incredibly tender. He swiped to answer, his voice dropping into a soft, protective murmur. “Hey, babe, don’t worry. I’m on my way…” On the other end of the line, a breathy, tearful female voice filtered through. “Mike… please don’t worry about me. It’s fine if I just die here in the hospital alone.” “Go back and comfort Diana. I don’t want to be the reason you guys fight…” I let out a harsh, dry laugh. “What a saint. If she’s so considerate, who was the desperate woman texting you ten minutes ago?” “Diana! Keep your mouth shut!” Mike bellowed, slamming his thumb over the microphone, glaring at me like a cornered animal. I ignored his useless rage, stepped forward, and snatched the phone clean out of his hand before he could react. I tapped the speaker button and cranked the volume to the max. Sienna’s soft whimpering filled the room. “Diana…? Is that you?” Her voice sounded fragile, like a delicate glass ornament, laced with just the right amount of fear. “Please don’t be mad at Mike. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have called him after hours.” “But I’m all alone, and the IV needle slipped. My hand is so swollen and it hurts so bad… I just wanted to hear a familiar voice. I didn’t mean anything else by it, I swear…” A textbook performance. Every syllable was an apology, and every syllable was a knife. She was telling me: Look, I have your husband on a leash. All I have to do is whistle, and he’ll leave you in a heartbeat. Mike lunged forward, clawing at my hands. “Diana, give it back! Didn’t you hear her? Her hand is swollen!” I sidestepped him, speaking directly into the phone. “If your hand is swollen, call a nurse. What is my husband going to do, suck the fluid out for you?” “You keep saying you don’t want to ruin our marriage.” “So why are you texting him late at night like a dog in heat? Is your hand disconnected from your brain, or do you just enjoy eating scraps out of other people’s trash cans?” The crying on the other end stopped instantly. Sienna clearly hadn’t expected me to drop all pretense of politeness. Before, to keep up appearances for Mike, I had always tried to play the dignified wife. But now? I didn’t even want the man. Why should I spare her? “Diana, how can you say that to me…” Sienna’s voice turned sharp with embarrassment. “Mike and I share a spiritual connection. We never wanted to hurt you.” “Love doesn’t care who got here first. The one who isn’t loved is the real interloper. Why can’t you just accept that?” I laughed out loud at the sheer delusion. “A spiritual connection? Is that what you call screwing on a yoga mat?” “Sienna, do you actually think being a mistress is something to be proud of?” “How about I send the videos of your spiritual connections to the group chat of your studio’s clients tomorrow morning? Let’s see what they think of your pure soul.” 4 “Don’t you dare!” Mike finally snapped. He lunged, grabbing my wrist with a force that felt like it would splinter my bones. “Diana, you’ve completely lost your mind! You just have to ruin everything, don’t you!” His eyes were bloodshot, staring at me with pure venom as his other hand pried at my fingers, trying to wrench the phone away. A sharp gasp of pain escaped my throat, but I clamped my hand shut, refusing to let go. “I’m ruining things?” I hissed, looking directly into his murderous eyes. “You two pushed me to this!” “If you walk out that door to see her tonight, I will ruin both of your lives!” Over the line, Sienna let out a terrified shriek. “Mike! Don’t hurt her! Just come to me, I’m scared…” Still pouring oil on the fire. Hearing her cry, Mike lost the last shred of his sanity. With a violent heave, he ripped the phone from my grasp. The momentum sent me stumbling backward. My foot caught, and I fell hard, my lower back slamming directly into the sharp edge of our marble coffee table. A dull, heavy crash echoed through the room. An agonizing pain flared from my spine, radiating through my entire body. My vision went black for a second, and cold sweat broke out across my back. I slid onto the cold floor, curling into a ball, unable to even draw a breath to scream. Mike stood over me, phone in hand. There wasn’t a trace of concern in his eyes. Only cold, detached disgust. “You’re a psycho, Diana.” He adjusted his crumpled collar, looking at me as if I were already dead. “If you want to lie there and throw a tantrum, go ahead. I don’t have time for this.” He spoke softly into the phone, “Don’t worry, sweetie, I’m coming,” and walked out without a backward glance. The heavy front door slammed shut, shaking the frames on the wall. Silence rushed back into the living room. Only the rhythmic ticking of the wall clock remained. I lay on the hardwood floor, clutching my throbbing back, as tears finally spilled over my cheeks. This was the man I had loved with everything I had for seven years. For a lying homewrecker, he had laid hands on me. I closed my eyes, memories flashing through my mind. Mike cooking pasta for me in our tiny first apartment; Mike spinning me around when I got my promotion, laughing. But all those memories dissolved, replaced by the icy, hateful glare he had just given me. I wiped my face and slowly, painfully, pulled myself up using the edge of the table. The ache in my back was a brutal reminder of what he was. But the fire in my heart had gone completely cold. In its place was a sharp, frozen resolve. I walked over to the window, watching his black sedan tear out of the driveway and disappear into the night. You think you won, Mike? You think you get to keep draining me dry while you play house with her? I grabbed my phone from the sofa and dialed a number buried deep at the bottom of my contact list. The call connected, and a gruff, impatient voice answered. “Who the hell is this? Do you know what time it is?” I looked out at the pitch-black sky, a cold smile touching my lips. “I’m Mike’s wife.” “Axel, your fiancée, Sienna, is sick. She needs someone to look after her.” “If you don’t get moving, she’s going to end up in my husband’s bed tonight.”

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1 Seven years. That was how long it took for Stockholm syndrome to hollow me out, leaving nothing but a ghost. The psychiatrists deemed me a lost cause. I spent my days guarding an abandoned warehouse, surviving on hallucinations and dust. The childhood sweetheart who once swore to save me had returned to the scene of the crime. He brought his new wife with him. I stayed curled up in a pile of rotting hay, my arms locked desperately around a bloodstained men’s jacket. He sneered. “What, still holding a vigil for that animal?” “You didn’t hesitate to stab me for that kidnapper back then. Why play the lunatic now?” Before his words could echo away, his heavy leather shoe came down on the back of my hand. I flinched from the sharp pain, lifting my clouded eyes to look at him. “You came back. Are you here to take me home?” The man gave a mocking laugh and pulled the woman beside him closer. “Take you home? Keep dreaming.” “Looks like you’ve stayed in this filthy place so long you can’t even understand human speech anymore.” I blinked at him blankly, then pointed a trembling finger at the tally marks scratched into the concrete wall. “Oh… well, could you keep your voices down, please?” “My husband is still sleeping. He has a bad temper.” With that, I turned away, reaching for a chipped porcelain bowl to catch the rainwater dripping from the rusted roof. A dull thud sounded right behind me. Declan crushed the cracked bowl under his heel. Dirty water splashed onto my faded hospital gown, dripping down my pant legs into the mud. I did not get angry. I did not even look up at him. I dropped to my knees. Ignoring the jagged porcelain slicing into my palms, I frantically scrubbed at the puddle with my frayed sleeves. “Can’t be dirty… Will likes it clean… It has to be clean…” I muttered the words in a feverish loop. The grime on the floor mixed with my own blood, staining my cuffs red and brown. But I did not dare to stop. Will told me that if strangers came, I had to scrub the floors. Otherwise, they would think our home was disgusting and burn it to the ground. A scoff drifted down from above. Vivian covered her nose delicately. “Look at her, Declan. Even completely out of her mind, she’s still cheap to the bone.” She adjusted her designer tweed jacket, stepping carefully to avoid the mud. “Wait… what is she hiding in that hay? Is that a man’s coat?” My hands froze. The blood in my veins turned to ice. I scrambled backward on my hands and knees, throwing my entire body over the black windbreaker buried deep in the straw. It was the very last thing Will left me. It still bore the blood from the day he died. “Don’t touch it! It’s mine! Don’t touch it!” A low, guttural growl tore from my throat. My eyes were wide, practically bulging from their sockets in sheer panic. Declan had been watching with cold indifference, but Vivian’s words drew his gaze to the edge of the fabric peeking out from beneath me. It was a cheap, worn-out piece of clothing, yet I was guarding it with my life. Declan’s expression darkened instantly. “Move.” His voice was quiet, dripping with absolute zero chill. I shook my head violently, curling into a tight ball, trying to shield the jacket with my spine. “Please… It’s Will’s…” “It’s the only thing he has left…” “Will?” Declan chewed on the name. A sudden, explosive violence shattered the ice in his eyes. He closed the distance in two strides, grabbing a fistful of my matted hair and yanking my head back. The tearing agony in my scalp forced hot, involuntary tears down my cheeks. “Bonnie, you really are pathetic.” “For a criminal who kidnapped you, a piece of trash who abused you, you’ve been playing the grieving widow in this dump for seven years?” “I said, move!” He violently shoved me aside. I flew backward, slamming hard against the unforgiving concrete wall. My organs felt like they had ruptured. Ignoring the blinding pain, I clawed at the dirt, desperately trying to crawl back. But Declan already had the jacket. He held it by two fingers, his face twisted in disgust. It smelled of Will, of damp mildew, and of old, rusted blood. “This is what your little lover left behind?” “What are you keeping it for? To sniff it?” Click. 2 The flame of a silver lighter danced at his fingertips. He was going to burn Will. The moment that thought registered, the fragile string that had held my sanity together for seven years snapped. “No!” I launched myself off the ground like a wild animal, throwing myself at Declan. I opened my mouth and sank my teeth deep into his wrist. I bit down with everything I had. The hot, metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. Declan let out a hiss of pain. His hand jerked, and the jacket fell to the dirt. With his free hand, he backhanded me across the face. The crack echoed through the warehouse. He put his entire weight behind it. I was thrown several feet, the right side of my face instantly going numb. A high-pitched ringing took over my ears. My mouth filled with blood. I spat it out into the dirt, a loosened tooth tumbling out with the red foam. Declan stared at his wrist. The bite marks were deep enough to show bone. His eyes turned murderous. He stalked toward me, driving the hard toe of his leather shoe into my cheek, grinding my face into the concrete. My cheekbone popped under the pressure. “Feeling brave now, Bonnie?” “Where was this fight seven years ago when those bastards were passing you around? Why didn’t you bite them?” “I gave you everything. I handed you my fucking heart, and you shoved a knife into me for that piece of trash.” “And now you want to kill me over a filthy rag?” “You really are nothing but a rabid dog.” He pressed down harder. My jaw felt like it was going to shatter. Forced against the freezing floor, my line of sight fell directly on the discarded jacket. Thank God. It wasn’t burned. A sudden, warped smile stretched across my distorted face. Tears slipped from the corners of my eyes, sinking into the dust. “He… never… hit me.” Will never laid a hand on me. Even when the episodes took over and I bit him, he would just stroke my hair and slip a vintage butterscotch caramel into my palm. Those words completely obliterated whatever was left of Declan’s restraint. He yanked his foot back, laughing like he had just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Good. Fantastic.” “Since you love this dump so much, since you love that dead man so much.” He pulled out his phone and dialed. “Bring the bulldozers in.” “Right now. Level this entire place to the ground.” “I want absolutely nothing left!” The deafening roar of heavy machinery soon shook the ground outside. A massive iron bucket smashed into the fragile brick walls. Dust and debris rained down. Declan wrapped an arm around Vivian, pulling her back to a safe distance. He looked down at me from his pedestal. “If you love him so much, hold onto that garbage and get buried with him.” I did not beg for mercy. I simply crawled over to the jacket, pulling it against my chest, wrapping my arms around it as tight as I could. Just like Will had wrapped his arms around me in the fire seven years ago. I closed my eyes, burying my face in the mildewed collar. Don’t be afraid, Will. It’s my turn to protect you. The iron bucket never crushed me. Right before the ceiling collapsed, rough hands grabbed me by the arms and dragged me out. I thrashed wildly, my fingernails digging into the dirt until they tore and bled. “I won’t go! That’s my home! Will is still inside!” “Let me go! Please! He’s scared of the dark! He’ll be so scared all alone!” No one listened to my screams. Declan watched with dead eyes as they shoved me into the trunk of a car. The lid slammed shut. Absolute darkness consumed me. My body went into violent spasms. I curled into the tightest corner, hugging my knees, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. “Don’t kill me… I’ll be good… I’ll take my medicine…” “Will, save me…” When the car finally stopped, my clothes were soaked in cold sweat. The trunk opened. The glaring sunlight made me cower. A hand reached in and dragged me out by the collar. “We’re here. Take a good look.” Declan’s voice came from above. I squinted, my vision slowly coming into focus. It was a sprawling mansion. Wrought-iron gates, perfectly manicured lawns, and red wedding banners taped to the double doors. I froze. Seven years ago, I had clung to Declan’s arm, pointing at this exact plot of land. Declan, we’re going to build a house right here. We’ll get married. We’ll have kids. Now, the house was built. The wedding banners were up. But I was not the bride. Vivian linked her arm through Declan’s, smiling sweetly. “Bonnie, this is our new home. Isn’t it beautiful?” “Declan said the most dangerous place is the safest place.” “Keeping you right under our noses is the best way to look after you.” 3 Look after me? I stared at her, my mind a blank static screen. Declan said nothing. He took a heavy metal chain from one of the guards. A small silver bell hung from the links. “Since you’re here, you learn the rules.” Click. The metal cuff locked tightly around my ankle. The other end of the chain was bolted to a heavy marble pillar in the foyer. It gave me just enough slack to reach the edge of the living room, but not enough to step out the front door. “What is this?” I stared down at the chain. The little bell chimed sharply as I shifted my weight. “To keep you from wandering.” Declan crouched down, patting my bruised cheek. “You loved playing the lunatic in that warehouse, right?” “From now on, you live in this hallway. You can be our watchdog.” Staff bustled in and out, carrying Vivian’s endless designer luggage. They cast disgusted glances at me as they passed, their whispers loud enough to hear. “Is that the heiress of the Sterling family? She looks like a stray.” “I heard her brain is rotted. Fell in love with the freak who kidnapped her.” “Mr. Pierce is too kind, letting trash like that stay.” The words washed over me, leaving no ripples. Compared to the electroshock therapy at the asylum, at least there was no buzzing current here. I curled up on the edge of the Persian rug, clutching Will’s jacket. Vivian walked over holding a crystal glass of water. It was the same glass Declan had just drank from. “You must be thirsty, Bonnie. Have some water.” I stared at the clear liquid. My throat was burning, but I did not move. Will told me never to drink from strangers. He said they hide sleeping pills in the water, and if I drank it, I would be sold away. I swatted my hand out. The glass shattered. Water soaked the front of Vivian’s pristine dress. She shrieked, instantly looking toward the living room. “Declan! I just wanted to give her a drink!” Declan stormed into the hallway, his fingers snapping around my jaw like a vise. “Bonnie! You think you’re still some high-class princess?” “Vivian offers you water and you throw it?” “Then you don’t drink!” Right in front of me, he pulled Vivian in by the waist and crushed his mouth to hers. It was a deep, wet kiss. The sound of their lips echoed in the hollow foyer. I ignored them, my eyes fixed on the antique grandfather clock against the wall. The second hand ticked forward steadily. Seven o’clock. Back at the warehouse, seven o’clock was medicine time. Will would always feed me. Even though they were expired painkillers, he would crush them into powder and mix them into a piece of butterscotch. “Seven o’clock…” I mumbled to myself, my gaze drifting right through the kissing couple. “Will needs to give me my medicine.” “If I don’t take it, my head hurts… Will…” Declan’s body went rigid. He tore himself away from Vivian, his head snapping toward me. He marched to the wall and ripped the clock off its hook. The heavy timepiece crashed at my feet. Shards of glass exploded, one slicing a deep cut across my cheek. Warm blood trickled down my neck. I didn’t feel the pain. I only felt sorrow that the clock was broken. Now I couldn’t tell the time. Declan’s eyes were bloodshot. He roared at me, the veins in his neck bulging. “Will! Will! Always fucking Will!” “Open your goddamn eyes and look at me! I am Declan!” “That kidnapper is dead! He’s been a pile of rotting bones for years!” “Nobody is going to feed you medicine! Nobody is going to give you candy ever again!” “Wake the hell up!” The ringing of the bell woke me. Declan was yanking on the chain, dragging me off the floor. “We’re hosting a celebration banquet tonight. You’re the lady of the house… Oh wait, no. You’re the watchdog.” He tossed a bundle of fabric at me. It was a French maid costume. The skirt was barely there. “Put it on.” I refused. Will didn’t like it when I wore revealing clothes. He said a girl had to protect herself. “I won’t… It’s cold…” I hugged my knees, shrinking back against the pillar. Declan sneered. “No? Then you can go out there and serve the guests naked.” Trembling violently, I pulled the costume on. The neckline plunged deep, exposing my collarbones, and laying a thick, jagged knife scar bare for the world to see. The banquet hall was ablaze with crystal chandeliers and champagne towers. Once upon a time, I walked these floors as the Sterling heiress. Now, I was carrying a silver tray, weaving through the glittering crowd like a ghost. People recognized me. They covered their mouths, stepping back to mock me. “Oh my god, is that Bonnie? Look at the state of her.” “I heard she was the warlord’s wife up in the mountains for seven years. Wonder how many guys had a turn.” “Disgusting. Why does Declan keep her around?” 4 I kept my head down, staring obsessively at the marble floor patterns. As long as I didn’t look at them, they didn’t exist. Will taught me that. When bad people are around, shut your ears and close your eyes. “Hey, pour me a drink.” A foot shot out into my path. I couldn’t dodge in time. My balance vanished, and I crashed hard into the nearest person, the tray of red wine flying from my hands. The dark crimson liquid splashed directly onto Vivian’s custom white evening gown. She let out a piercing scream. “My dress! Declan had this flown in from Paris!” She whipped around and slapped me across the face with everything she had. My vision flashed white. I collapsed onto the floor, my ears ringing violently. The guests crowded around, pointing, calling me blind, saying I did it on purpose. Declan parted the crowd and stepped forward. He looked at Vivian’s ruined dress, then down at me, pathetic and sprawled on the tiles. “Kneel.” He issued the command. “Clean her shoes.” I looked up at him in utter disbelief. There was nothing but pure, unfiltered disgust in his eyes. I stayed frozen. He lifted his foot and drove his heel into my calf, grinding down with his weight. “Do you not understand English? Wipe!” The blinding pain broke me. My hands shook uncontrollably as I grabbed a napkin and reached out to wipe the wine and dirt off Vivian’s rhinestone heels. I scrubbed mechanically. Scrub, scrub. Until… My eyes locked onto Vivian’s ankle. There was a tattoo. A skull with crimson red eyes. My pupils dilated to pinpricks. Deep in my fractured memory, I saw Will waking up from a night terror, his hands signing frantically in the dark: That bad woman… She has a dead man’s head on her foot… She is the one who hurt us… It was her. The masked woman from seven years ago. The one who ordered the kidnappers to execute me. The woman who caused Will to take a bullet through the chest to save my life. My mind might be broken, but that symbol was burned into my soul. “It’s you… You killed him!” I shrieked, a sound barely human, and lunged. My fingernails dug violently into her skin, clawing desperately at the tattoo. I wanted to rip that piece of skin right off her leg. “Ah! Murder! The psycho is trying to kill me!” Vivian shrieked, kicking wildly. The guests screamed and scattered. They didn’t know what I was clawing at. They just saw a rabid dog attacking its master. Declan kicked me squarely in the chest. I flew backward, the back of my head cracking against the hard floor. Black spots swarmed my vision. The impact tore the top buttons of the uniform open. The jagged scar, stretching from my collarbone all the way down to just above my heart, was suddenly exposed under the glaring chandeliers. The entire ballroom went dead silent. A collective gasp sucked the air from the room. Even Declan froze. His eyes locked onto the scarred flesh. Seven years ago, when I stabbed him, it was in the stomach. But this scar… was directly over my heart. One centimeter deeper, and I would have been dead. He slowly crouched down, his hand trembling as he reached toward the mark. His fingers stopped just inches from my skin. “How did this happen?” His voice was hoarse, fractured. “For that animal, you threw your own life away? You took a knife for him?” “Bonnie, was it worth it? Huh?!” My heart spasmed, sending waves of agony through my chest. I curled into a tight ball, cold sweat matting my hair to my forehead. But in the haze of the pain, the hallucinations returned. I saw a figure standing beneath the chandelier. He was wearing his black windbreaker, covered in blood, but he was smiling at me. He was waving. He was telling me I did a good job. Staring into the empty air, looking past all the disgusted faces around me, I gave that shadow a tender smile. “Will… it doesn’t hurt.” “Really… it doesn’t hurt at all.” “Look, I protected our secret.” “Let’s see how long you can keep this act up!” Declan didn’t even wait for the banquet to end. He dragged me out by the arm and threw me into the car. A thunderstorm was raging outside. Lightning tore across the black sky. The car sped directly into the mountains. 5 It was the mountain where the kidnapping happened. The desolate peak where I had secretly buried Will. I realized what he was doing. Panic seized my throat. I slammed my fists against the windows. “No! Stop the car! Declan, stop!” “You can’t go there! You’ll wake him up!” He ignored me completely. The SUV skidded to a halt on a muddy, unpaved trail. He dragged me out into the torrential rain and threw me into the mud. Several bodyguards were already waiting, holding iron shovels. It was Will’s grave. There was no headstone. Just a small mound of dirt. And a crude cross I had carved from a tree branch. “Dig!” Declan barked the order. “No!” I dropped to my knees in the mud, slamming my head against the ground at Declan’s feet. One. Two. Three. My forehead struck the sharp rocks. Blood mixed with the freezing rain, washing down over my eyes and blinding me. “Please… Declan, I’m begging you…” “You can hit me, you can kill me, just leave him alone…” “This is the only home he has left…” The once-proud heiress of the Sterling family was grinding her dignity into the mud for the peace of a dead man. Declan stood under a black umbrella, staring down at me with absolute zero empathy. “Keep digging.” The sound of shovels biting into the earth. Scrape. Toss. Scrape. Finally, a hard thud. They hit something. There was no coffin. Just a rusty butter cookie tin. That was Will’s “urn.” It held the few fragments of bone that remained after the fire. The bones I had risked my life to dig out of the ashes. A bodyguard handed the tin to Declan. He pried the lid off violently. Inside, resting among the charred bone fragments, were several blackened, melted butterscotch candies. And a yellowed photograph. The photo was facedown. Scrawled across the back in childish, crooked handwriting was a single line: [Brother, let her go.] Declan’s entire body jolted. He recognized that handwriting. I didn’t know what was going through his head. I only knew he was ruining my Will. I threw myself at him, snatching the tin from his hands. He instinctively reached to grab it back. I scooped up a clump of the spoiled candy, mixed with dirt and bone dust, and shoved it into my mouth. Will left it for me. It was mine. No one could take it from me. Declan roared. “Spit it out! Are you insane, Bonnie?! It’s toxic!” He lunged, forcing his fingers into my mouth to pry my jaws open. He was terrified. Terrified of this broken version of me, a woman so far gone she would swallow a dead man’s bones and rotted candy just to keep them safe. “Spit it out!” His hands were shaking. His voice was breaking. I clamped my jaw down with everything I had. My teeth tore into my own tongue, but I refused to let go. His fingers stirred the foul sweetness around, and it began to melt down my throat. Bitter. Astringent. The unmistakable taste of death. My teeth shredded his fingers. Blood poured from his skin, but as he stared into my manic, wild eyes, he froze. I swallowed. I swallowed the ashes, the candy, and seven years of unendurable agony. I released my bite. My mouth was smeared with his blood and the black residue of the caramel. Looking at the panic and horror slowly consuming the man in front of me, a dark sense of irony bubbled up in my chest. Seven years of silence erupted. I screamed at him, my vocal cords tearing: “It was you!” “He saved me! And you ordered them to shoot him!” “That was your brother! You murdered the brother who saved your fiancée!” “You’re a murderer, Declan!” A massive crack of lightning split the sky, illuminating Declan’s ghostly white face. He stumbled backward, collapsing into the mud. The photograph slipped from his bleeding fingers, landing softly in a puddle. The handwriting on the back screamed up at him. “No… that’s impossible…” Watching him finally break, I wanted to throw my head back and laugh. But a sudden, violent cough tore through me, and a mouthful of dark blood splattered across the dirt. The world went black. I fell straight backward into the open, empty grave. The rain swallowed me whole. I’m coming to keep you company, Will.

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The first thing the doctor said when he walked out of the delivery room was a warning. “This child has the XYY syndrome. The ‘super male’ gene. There is a high risk of aggressive and violent tendencies. You need to keep a very close eye on him.” From that day on, I was handed off to a nanny. I became the ticking time bomb of the family. A potential criminal living under their roof. If my older brother tripped, if a vase shattered in the hallway, even if a stray animal was found dead on the street corner, I was the first and only suspect. My mother would always look at me with cold eyes and say, “Genetics don’t lie. We have to guard against you.” So, my bedroom was rigged with security cameras. To prevent me from “hurting” anyone, my parents forbade me from playing with kids my own age. This lasted until the night of my brother’s acceptance party. He had just gotten into an Ivy League university. Relatives filled the house, raising their glasses in celebration. And I accidentally dropped a porcelain soup bowl. My father exploded. He grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the balcony. “I have put up with you for eighteen years! On the best day of your brother’s life, you just had to cause a scene, didn’t you?” “If your genes dictate that you’re a monster…” He threw the balcony windows open, pointing out at the dizzying drop from the sixteenth floor. “Then I should just drop you right now! End it before you actually murder someone and ruin this family forever!” The freezing night wind howled through the open window. I looked down at the tiny, ant-like cars on the street below, and suddenly, everything made sense. My original sin wasn’t my genetics. It was being born into this family. 1 My father’s laughter had been the loudest all night, his cheeks flushed from the expensive wine. He had his arm wrapped tightly around my brother’s shoulders, his face glowing with absolute pride. “Double the blessings for our family today!” “Connor got into a top-tier university. He’s going to do incredible things!” “Ross, you really know how to raise a genius.” I was sitting in the darkest corner of the dining room. In front of me was a bowl of plain white rice and a few wilted greens. The sound of the soup bowl shattering against the rug wasn’t actually that loud. Just like every other sound I had made in this house over the past eighteen years, it was quiet enough to be ignored. But because the sound came from me, to my father, it was a deafening crack of thunder. Instantly, all the chatter in the room died. My father turned his head. His gaze shifted from Connor to me. In a fraction of a second, the warmth in his eyes froze into solid ice. “Riley, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” His voice was terrifyingly calm. Before I could blink, his fist was twisted in the collar of my shirt. The fabric dug into my throat, choking me. He dragged me across the living room. One of my slippers fell off, abandoned on the carpet. He kicked the balcony doors open. The glass reflected my ghostly pale face. The wind at this altitude was like a barrage of icy knives. He shoved me hard against the metal railing. Half of my body was pushed out over the sickening drop. The people and cars below were nothing but black specks in the abyss. My father roared directly into my ear. “You’re always wearing that miserable look on your face! Always trying to drag this family down!” “I have tolerated you for eighteen years! We installed cameras for eighteen years! We lived in fear for eighteen years! Do you know how exhausting that is?!” “And today, of all days, you have to curse your brother’s success?” “If you’re destined to be a murderer, if you’re going to kill me, or your mother, or your brother one day, then maybe you should just fall right now!” “Dad, stop!” Connor rushed onto the balcony, desperately grabbing our father’s arm. “Let go of her! You’re going to drop her!” “Let him fall!” My mother’s voice pierced through the wind. I painfully turned my head. She was standing at the edge of the balcony, gripping the doorframe, her face completely drained of color. “Let him drop.” Connor froze, staring at her in horror. “Mom?!” “I said let him drop!” She suddenly began to scream hysterically. “I am so sick of this! I can’t take it anymore!” She ran toward us, but not to pull me back. She grabbed my father’s arm and tried to push my weight further over the edge. “Riley, I am begging you,” she sobbed, her hands shoving against my chest. “Just let go. If you fall, we can all finally be free…” 2 “You always say there’s no point in living! You always say we don’t love you!” “Fine, I admit it! I don’t love you!” “I have hated you since the second you were born! I hate that you’re a monster! I hate that you couldn’t just be a normal child!” Her manicured nails dug deep into the flesh of my arm. It stung. But it was nothing compared to the agony ripping through my chest. I looked at them. I looked at my father’s bloodshot eyes, my mother’s tear-streaked face, and Connor desperately trying to pull them away. I looked back down at the tiny ants crawling in the street far below. Suddenly, I wasn’t afraid anymore. Instead of tensing my muscles to fight gravity, I went entirely limp, leaning into the force of my father’s hands. My entire dead weight shifted outward. My father stumbled. I slipped over the railing, my body suspended over nothing but thin air. If he let go right now, I would plummet sixteen stories and splatter against the pavement. But I didn’t care anymore. I closed my eyes and accepted my fate. Seeing me surrender, the disgust on my parents’ faces instantly morphed into raw panic. My father used every ounce of strength in his body to haul me backward. The veins in his neck bulged, his face turning a deep, suffocated purple. The death I was waiting for never came. I collapsed onto the cold tiles of the balcony. The second I opened my eyes, a heavy slap cracked across my face. “You little psychopath! You want to ruin my life and turn me into a murderer?!” “If you want to die, go do it somewhere nobody has to look at you! Stop begging for attention!” “Your mother and I are good, honest people. How did we ever produce a vicious mutation like you?” “Get back to your room! Don’t you dare step one inch out of the camera’s view!” My mother’s face hovered over me, her eyes filled with nothing but resentment and disgust. I didn’t dare fight back. I quietly picked myself up and walked to my room. The red light of the security camera blinked from the corner, a cold mechanical eye ensuring I had nowhere to hide. Like I always did, I crawled into the bottom of my wardrobe, the only place I felt safe. I wrapped my arms tightly around my knees and curled into a ball. The house eventually went quiet. I cried until I drifted into a heavy, exhausted sleep. I didn’t know how much time had passed when a thick, unnatural heat woke me up. Smoke was silently filling the enclosed space. By the time I pushed the wardrobe doors open, black smog had completely swallowed my room. The house was on fire. The heat was unbearable. Blazing tongues of fire danced just outside my door, devouring everything in their path. I panicked and ran for the window. I could climb down the fire escape. But right as I reached the glass, a thought hit me. Connor’s university acceptance letter was still in the living room. If it burned to ashes, my parents would be furious… I just wanted to prove to them that I wasn’t a bad person. I wasn’t born evil. Taking a deep breath, I turned back around and threw myself into the burning hallway. I found the heavy envelope, but the fire had grown too wild. The ceiling collapsed, blocking my way out. The flames licked at my cheeks. The sickening smell of burning hair filled my nose. With nowhere left to run, I dragged myself back into my bedroom and threw myself into the wardrobe, clutching Connor’s acceptance letter tightly to my chest. I prayed someone would see the smoke and put out the fire. But with every breath, my throat felt like it was being sliced open by razor blades. My lungs were being crushed. My vision blurred into a dark, hazy tunnel. Right before I completely lost consciousness, one final thought drifted through my mind. If there is a next life, I don’t want to be their child anymore. And I don’t want these cursed genes. The next second, my body felt incredibly light. I floated up through the flames, leaving the burning house behind, and materialized right beside my parents. 3 They were sitting in the VIP lounge of a luxury hotel. Everyone was gathered around Connor, laughing and drinking. Amidst the clinking glasses, an uncle spoke up. “Ross, hasn’t Connor’s acceptance letter arrived yet? You said you were going to show it off to everyone tonight. Did you forget?” My father smiled and nodded. “It should be arriving today.” “Let me call the courier and have him deliver it straight to the hotel. Everyone can get a good look and share in the good luck!” He put the call on speaker. The courier sounded confused. “Your package was signed for hours ago, sir.” “Let me check the system. The signature says Riley. Did your kid not tell you?” My father ended the call and slammed his phone down on the glass table. “That ungrateful little freak! He must have been so jealous of his brother that he hid the letter just to spite us!” “Leaving a deranged criminal alone in the house was a mistake. Who knows what kind of sick things he’s doing right now!” “Come on, we’re going back to check.” Hearing his words, I desperately wanted to open my mouth and defend myself. But eighteen years of conditioning kept me entirely silent. The truth was, I dropped the soup bowl earlier because my hands were shaking with nerves. The moment I signed for the package, I planned exactly how I was going to give it to Connor. I wanted to hand it to him myself. I wanted to tell him congratulations, from the bottom of my heart. I wanted to show them that I hadn’t ruined anything. I had protected his most important document. I, Riley, was never a natural-born criminal. I was never an evil seed. When my parents and relatives rushed back to our street, the front door was wide open. Inside was nothing but a charred, blackened shell of a home. The firefighters had just put out the last of the flames and were investigating the source. The moment my father saw the wreckage, he kicked the scorched wall in absolute fury. “I knew it! Nothing good ever happens when that psychopath is around!” “Just to destroy his brother’s letter, he burned our entire house to the ground!” “What kind of unforgivable sin did I commit in my past life to spawn something so purely evil?!” The relatives whispered among themselves, looking at the devastation in shock. “This… this was such a nice house. How did it burn down so fast?” My mother crossed her arms, her voice dripping with cold mockery. “What else could it be? Riley obviously set the fire on purpose.” “He’s been doing sick things like this since he was a kid.” “We underestimated him. He’s rotten to his very core. He actually tried to burn the house down!” The atmosphere grew heavy. Connor stepped forward, looking nervously at the blackened doorway. “Mom, Dad… the fire was massive. Do you think Riley is hurt?” My father let out a harsh sneer. “If he was hurt, the firefighters would have found him by now. Besides, we left the door unlocked when we left.” “Do you think a cockroach like him would just stand there and let himself burn?” “He knew he went too far this time, so he ran away like a coward.” Listening to them, I shook my head in the empty air. Mom, Dad, Connor… I’m right here in the ashes. I didn’t burn anything. I’m not a monster. My mother’s face grew darker with every passing second. “Well, the house is unlivable anyway. The university can issue a replacement letter.” “Connor, I’ll transfer some money right now. We’ll buy tickets to Hawaii. The three of us will go on a vacation for a week while this gets sorted out.” “Let the police handle the house. Since Riley wants to play the villain, I’m pressing charges. I want him locked up for arson!” “He belongs in a prison cell before he hurts someone else!” I watched in silence as they bid farewell to our relatives, packed whatever survived, and boarded a flight to Hawaii. It felt like a blunt knife was slowly carving my heart out of my chest. But what they didn’t expect was that the moment their plane landed, my father’s phone rang. It was the local police department. “Mr. Ross, we arrived at your residence following a report of the fire.” “We recovered a body from the premises. We cannot confirm the identity yet, but we need you to return immediately to identify the remains.” 4 My father’s knuckles turned stark white as his grip tightened on the phone. Noticing the blood drain from his face, my mother rushed over, asking what was wrong. The officer’s voice continued through the speaker. “The deceased is a female, estimated to be between sixteen and eighteen years of age.” Hearing that, my father let out a massive sigh of relief. “Officer, you had me worried. My wife and I only have two sons. We don’t have a daughter. The body doesn’t belong to our family. You’ll need to keep investigating.” “Who knows, maybe that psycho Riley kidnapped some poor girl and did something unspeakable to her before he ran.” He hung up the phone. For the next week, they took Connor to every beautiful beach and resort on the island. It wasn’t until a full seven days later that the family of three finally returned to the city. The moment they unlocked their temporary apartment, the police were waiting for them. “Ross and Martha, there are a few glaring discrepancies in this case. We need you to come to the station and cooperate with the investigation.” My parents exchanged a confused look, dropped their luggage, and followed the officers, bringing Connor along. In the freezing morgue, the white sheet was pulled back. The body was burned beyond recognition. Seeing the charred remains, my parents and Connor physically recoiled, looking deeply uncomfortable. The detective watched their reaction and spoke softly. “We checked the hallway security cameras. When the fire started, she had already escaped. But for some reason, she turned around and climbed back through the window into the burning apartment.” “When we found her, she was clutching a university acceptance letter to her chest, shielding it from the flames.” My father immediately interjected, “That sick freak Riley must have tricked this poor girl! He essentially murdered her!” My mother’s face twisted in anger. “Have you still not caught Riley yet?” The detective frowned, looking at them in absolute bewilderment. “The deceased is Riley. We ran a DNA test. The genetic match to the two of you is 99.99%.” “We called you down here to identify the body, but also to ask a very important question. Why was Riley a biological female, but registered on all her legal documents as a male?” 5 In that exact moment, every drop of blood vanished from my mother’s face. Her jaw parted as if she wanted to speak, but not a single sound came out. My father’s expression cracked, piece by piece, like shattering glass. “Impossible!” He heard his own voice echo in the sterile room. It sounded like a stranger. “The doctor told me himself! The child had the XYY syndrome! The super-male gene! A high risk of violent tendencies!” “Only males can have the XYY gene! That’s why we knew Riley was a boy!” The detective looked at them with profound pity. He didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he spoke. “Ross, Martha… we verified the hospital records from eighteen years ago.” They slowly raised their heads. “The doctor’s diagnosis wasn’t wrong. There was a child with the XYY gene.” The detective paused. “But you must have misremembered, or you were too panicked to listen carefully.” “The doctor was talking about your oldest son. He is the one with the XYY gene.” The air in the room completely solidified. My parents slowly, mechanically, turned their heads to look at Connor. Connor stood completely paralyzed, his eyes wide with shock, his face as pale as a ghost. Suddenly, my father lunged forward and snatched the autopsy report from the detective’s hands. His eyes drilled into the black ink. Relationship: Direct biological parent-child probability 99.99% Then, his eyes dropped to the next line. Biological Sex: Female He stared at that single word for an eternity. My mother couldn’t take the silence anymore. She snatched the paper from his trembling hands and looked down. She began to shake her head violently, her perfectly styled hair falling into a messy tangle around her face. “No… no! Riley is a boy! He’s my son!” But she couldn’t finish the sentence. Her voice cracked and died in her throat. The detective gently placed an evidence bag on the metal table. “This was the only item we recovered fully intact from the scene.” “It was lucky she kept it inside a metal tin. The contents survived the heat.” He placed a rusted, scorched cookie tin in front of them. My mother stared at it. Her trembling hands reached out and pried the lid open. Inside rested a small, palm-sized notebook. The light blue cover was stained with soot and the edges were curled from the heat. But the pages inside were perfectly preserved. The handwriting was clear. Starting from the day I learned how to write, my childish, clumsy words filled the pages, tracking my life up until the very end. [What does it mean to be a bad seed? What is a natural-born criminal? Why do Mom and Dad always call me that… Am I really different from the other kids?] [Today is my birthday. I saw other kids get special noodles on their birthdays. I wanted to make some for myself, but I made a mess in the kitchen. Dad came home and beat me. He said I was maliciously trying to ruin his day. But I wasn’t. I just wanted birthday noodles, Dad.] [Connor got the highest grade in his class, so Dad was really happy and took us to McDonald’s. I didn’t do anything, but Dad heard another kid in the restaurant lost a toy. He forced me to get on my knees and apologize. But I didn’t steal it! Why won’t Dad believe me?!] [I bled so much today. I thought I was dying. People say only bad guys get punished. Am I really a monster? Is God punishing me?] [The school nurse saw the blood on my pants and gave me a pad. She said it’s not a punishment. It’s a period. She said I’m a girl! I’m not a monster!] [I finally got the courage to tell Mom. But Mom said I was a pathological liar. She said: “Have you no shame? You would make up a lie like this just to make us like you? You are a boy, the doctor said so! You’re just a late bloomer, stop making sick excuses!”] Reading that line, my mother clamped her hands over her mouth, letting out a suffocated, agonizing wail.

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1 At my birthday party, my brother organized a game of “Never Have I Ever.” The winner would get to ask him for one favor, no strings attached. Everyone at the party knew that I had been brought back to the Stone family three years ago, but I still hadn’t been officially recognized or allowed to move into the main estate. They all purposefully let me win, whispering that my brother was finally giving me a chance to come home. Only the fake heiress, Wendy, fought me at every turn. “My brother gives me fifty thousand dollars a month for allowance.” “He bid a million dollars on a diamond necklace just for me.” “I get to spend every holiday with the family, front and center.” “My name is officially written in the Stone family registry.” After her four sentences, I only had one finger left up. She smiled sweetly and delivered the final blow. “My brother organized this entire game tonight just to make me happy.” My heart hollowed out. I looked at my brother. He was smiling at her with absolute adoration. Just like every single time over the last three years, he chose her side. I admitted defeat and put down my last finger. Suddenly, I realized I didn’t really want to go home anymore. … A bizarre, heavy silence fell over the private room. Everyone’s eyes landed on me, waiting to see how I would react. I simply smiled, picked up my shot glass, and downed the liquor in one go. “I lose.” Someone couldn’t handle the awkwardness and tried to smooth things over. “Actually, didn’t Wendy break the rules? Who brings up family drama in a drinking game?” Wendy raised an eyebrow and shot the girl a glare. “Why not? Isn’t this how the game is played?” She turned to my brother, her voice dripping with sugar. “Vance, did I break the rules?” My brother’s eyes crinkled in helpless affection. “You win.” “I set this game up to cheer you up anyway.” “What do you want? Name it.” Wendy shot me a provocative look. “Then you have to take me shopping tomorrow. I want a new dress, and you have the best taste.” I set my empty glass down on the marble table. I lowered my head, expertly avoiding Wendy’s arrogant stare. I had been practicing this exact act of yielding for three years. I was fluent in it. It was so natural that even my brother didn’t notice anything wrong with my mood. He frowned slightly, looking a bit conflicted. “But I promised Maya I’d help her move tomorrow.” My chest tightened. For the three years since I was brought back to the city, I had been living in a small apartment in the suburbs, miles away from the Stone estate. Last month, my brother asked me what I wanted for my birthday. I told him I wanted to be officially recognized. I wanted my name in the family registry. He had patted my head with a sigh. “Pick something else. You know Wendy is really sensitive about that.” “I’ve been trying my best to talk her into it. Once she agrees, you can come home.” I had lowered my eyes, taking a step back as always. “Then… can I at least move closer to the estate?” “Where I am now is too far. It’s inconvenient to go anywhere.” He had frowned, not agreeing immediately, only saying he would think about it. I knew the truth. He had to go ask Wendy for permission. This little princess had stolen my life and grown up surrounded by their unconditional love. Even my own mother walked on eggshells around her, terrified of making her upset. Sure enough, yesterday my brother told me Wendy had approved the move. He had already found me an apartment downtown. Once my birthday passed, I could move in. I had been overjoyed, begging him to come help me. He had promised. The dim, shifting lights of the private club washed over Wendy’s face. She scowled. “Why does she have to move tomorrow? Can’t she do it the day after? Or next week?” Seeing her get upset, my brother immediately softened. “There’s no rush to buy a dress, right? We can go any other day.” “I want to go tomorrow! That dress is limited edition and it’s going to sell out!” Wendy raised her voice, making the atmosphere in the room even more unbearable. With so many people watching, my brother’s face darkened slightly. A moment later, his lips parted. He was just about to say something. But I spoke first. “You guys go shopping tomorrow.” “I’m not moving anymore. Where I live right now is fine.” The moment the words left my mouth, my brother snapped his head toward me in absolute shock. 2 My brother knew exactly how desperately I wanted to move downtown, how much I wanted to be closer to the family. So when he saw me actively stepping aside to defuse the situation, a flicker of guilt and heartache crossed his eyes. “Let’s play another round,” he suggested, looking directly at me. “Maya goes first this time.” I didn’t say anything for a long moment. The girl sitting next to me nudged my arm. “Come on, hurry up! Your brother is throwing you a bone. You’ll definitely win this round!” I raised my hand, all five fingers up, and looked dead at Wendy. “I have seen the sunrise deep in the mountains at 4:00 AM.” The crowd immediately played along, groaning in exaggerated defeat. Wendy rolled her eyes and put down a finger. Then she couldn’t wait to speak. “I have seen the Northern Lights in Iceland with the whole family.” My expression didn’t change as I folded a finger down. I spoke slowly. “I have raised a three-hundred-pound pig.” She scrunched her nose in absolute disgust. “I own a registered star in the sky. Mom bought it for my birthday.” I lowered my eyelashes, my voice entirely flat. “I have arranged and managed my adoptive parents’ funerals completely alone.” She froze for a second, then gritted her teeth. “I attended high-society charity galas representing the entire Stone family when I was eighteen!” The entire room fell dead silent. At some point, the game had become a duel between just the two of us. I didn’t back down. I held up my last two fingers, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “At my lowest weight, I was seventy pounds.” Wendy refused to show weakness, pushing harder. “I have twenty million in my bank account and three oceanfront villas!” If she was pulling out numbers like that, it meant she was out of real ammunition to show off. I gently curled the corners of my mouth into a smile. “I don’t have a home.” She folded her last finger. She opened her mouth, trying to find another comeback. Then she realized she had already lost. Her face turned an ugly shade of red. Just as she angrily reached for her shot glass, my brother grabbed her wrist. “I’ll drink this for you.” He downed the liquor in one smooth motion. Then, his face completely dark, he stormed over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me out into the hallway. “Why did you say those things? Are you trying to play the victim?” “I know you suffered in the countryside, but tonight wasn’t the time to fish for sympathy!” My heart plummeted into a bottomless pit. I wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol hitting my system or just an overwhelming, suffocating sense of injustice. Whatever it was, the dam holding back three years of suppressed emotions finally broke. “Wendy can flaunt her perfect life, but when I talk about my own life, I’m playing the victim?” “Could you possibly be any more biased?” My brother’s face turned to thunder. “She doesn’t know any better! Are you saying you don’t know better either?” “I actually thought you were being understanding earlier. I was going to make sure you moved tomorrow no matter what. And then you pull a stunt like this?” “Maya, have I let you starve these last three years? Have I not given you enough money?” “What exactly are you in such a rush for?!” My pupils constricted. I stared at him in utter disbelief. “So you think the reason I’m desperate to come home… is for your money?” 3 My brother found me the year my adoptive parents died. I had violently lost everything. I had pushed through the physical exhaustion and heartbreak to handle their funerals all by myself. At my absolute lowest, most helpless moment, he descended like a god from above. With bloodshot eyes, he told me that I was the biological daughter of the Stone family. “Maya, come back with me. Mom and Dad are waiting for you.” “It’s too hard here. How have you survived all these years…” I weighed seventy pounds at the time. My severely malnourished body disappeared into his embrace. His hands shook uncontrollably. His voice was raw. “I’m so sorry. I’m late. I let you suffer so much.” I had stood frozen, not knowing what to do with my hands. He was so tall. So elegant. I felt like my dirt and poverty were staining his expensive coat just by him hugging me. I was incredibly insecure, but I couldn’t stop the overwhelming surge of emotion that came from finding my real blood. So, I viewed him as my ultimate salvation, and I followed him back to the city. But he didn’t take me home. He put me in a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. “Actually, our family has another daughter. She really doesn’t want you to come back. She’s been screaming and crying, threatening to jump off the roof.” “Maya, just give it a little time. Let me talk her down.” To keep me calm, he brought our mother to see me. The moment the elegant, aristocratic woman laid eyes on me, she burst into tears. “Maya… look how big you’ve gotten. Mommy is so sorry!” Just like my brother, she pulled me into a tight hug, her voice breaking with heartache. “Just wait a little longer. Mommy will make Wendy understand!” I hugged her back, terrified of breaking the moment. “Okay. I’ll wait.” She patted my head with relief and pulled a black credit card from her designer bag. “You can spend whatever you want on this card. Even though you can’t come home yet, you get the exact same treatment as Wendy!” I pushed the card back in panic, feeling unworthy. But she forcefully shoved it into my pocket. “Alright, Mommy has to go. If I stay out too long, Wendy will get suspicious.” “Next time I come, we’ll have dinner together, okay?” I nodded my head furiously. “Okay! Thank you, Mom!” Who knew that “wait a little longer” would turn into three years. In those three years, whenever I cautiously brought up going home, my brother would just sigh. “Let’s talk about it in a few days.” In the beginning, his tone was gentle. But as time went on, and he realized I was a pushover who wouldn’t throw explosive tantrums like Wendy, he grew annoyed. “You have everything you need right now. Why are you in such a rush to move in?” “Do you have any idea how much pressure I’m under just sneaking out to see you? We can barely hide it from Wendy anymore.” I couldn’t understand it. “Why do I need her permission to return to my own house?” “Mom sneaks around just to see me. Am I even a daughter of the Stone family?” His face had darkened instantly. “You are my biological sister. Of course you’re a Stone.” “But we love Wendy too. Are we supposed to just watch her jump off a building?” I fell silent. Seeing me upset, he had helplessly grabbed my hand. “Don’t worry, you’ll come home eventually.” “Once Wendy softens up, I’ll arrange for you two to meet. Try to become friends with her.” “Once you have a good relationship, she’ll naturally accept you.” I had never imagined that the road back to my own family would be littered with so many insurmountable walls. That was the first time since arriving in the city that I truly missed my adoptive parents. And now, any lingering hope I had of returning to the Stone family had completely shattered.

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During our honeymoon, the car stopped at a rest area in the freezing Rockies. I headed straight for the restroom. When I came out, the SUV was gone. I stood frozen, then called Elias. It took seven tries before he answered. “Chloe’s got severe altitude sickness and won’t stop vomiting. There’s no clinic here. I have to take her down the mountain now. Wait there or grab a cab into town.” I looked around. Twelve thousand feet up, surrounded by snow peaks. No cabs, just a few freight trucks stopping for water. “Elias, you left me here alone?” Silence. Then his voice, sharp. “Chloe introduced us. Shouldn’t we treat her well? Basic decency. Besides, she’s your best friend.” “You’re overreacting. No wonder your parents divorced and neither wanted you.” I didn’t argue. Ever since Chloe introduced us, I’d had no privacy. Movies? She came. Anniversary dinners? She sat nearby. Now, on our honeymoon, she showed up, too weak to stay, demanding to be taken down. I hung up. My frozen finger scrolled through my contacts to a number I hadn’t dialed in two years. Julian. “Sienna?” He sounded surprised. “Julian, are you still leading mountain expeditions?” “I’m at the high-pass rest stop. Can you pick me up?” No hesitation. “Send your location. Thirty minutes.” 1 I hung up the phone and leaned against the freezing concrete wall of the restroom building. The icy wind sliced through my collar, chilling me to the bone. Slowly, I lost all feeling in my arms and legs. My phone screen lit up. A text from Elias. “Call me when you get to town. Stop throwing a tantrum.” Immediately after, another message popped up. “Chloe feels really guilty because of what you said on the phone earlier. Make sure you comfort her when you get here.” I stared at those two lines of text for a long time. I didn’t reply. With a few taps of my frozen finger, I muted his notifications. Half an hour later, a massive Ford Raptor aggressively pulled into the lot, stopping right in front of me. The door swung open, and Julian stepped out in a heavy stride. He was wearing a tactical winter jacket. His brow furrowed deeply as he looked at my lips, which had turned a violent shade of purple from the cold. “Get in.” He yanked the passenger door open. I climbed into the massive truck. The blasting heat instantly enveloped my shivering body. Slowly, feeling began to return to my frozen fingers. Julian handed me a steaming thermos of hot water and tossed a portable oxygen canister onto my lap. “Why are you out here alone? Where’s Elias?” I wrapped both hands around the metal thermos, soaking in the heat. “He had an emergency. He left first.” Julian let out a cold, sharp laugh but didn’t press the issue. “Where to?” He slammed his foot on the gas. “Town,” I said. “My luggage is still in his car.” The heavy truck tore down the winding mountain road. I leaned back against the leather seat, watching the snow-covered pines blur past the window. Soft indie folk music played from the speakers. My phone rested quietly in my pocket. No calls. Not a single new message. It was peaceful. Elias didn’t care if I could actually find a ride. He was absolutely certain I would obediently follow him. Just like the countless times before. All he had to do was wave his hand, and I would stay exactly where he left me, waiting. But this time, he miscalculated. I wasn’t waiting anymore. 2 By the time the truck pulled up to the hotel in town, the sky was pitch black. “My team is camping about three miles up the road.” Julian rolled down his window. “I’ll come pick you up first thing in the morning.” I nodded, pushed the door open, and stepped out. The hotel lobby was brightly lit. I walked up to the front desk and gave them Elias’s name. The receptionist clicked away at her keyboard, then slid a room key across the marble counter. “Mr. Griffin canceled the king suite and booked two standard rooms instead.” I took the key without a word. The elevator stopped on the third floor. I walked down the carpeted hallway, found the room, and swiped the card. The heavy door clicked open. The heater was blasting inside. Chloe was sitting on the sofa by the window. She was wearing my expensive silk pajamas. In her hand was my luxury face cream, and she was generously applying it to her cheeks. Hearing the door open, she snapped her head around. A flash of guilt crossed her face. “Sienna! You made it!” She stood up, awkwardly tugging at the hem of the silk pajamas. Right at that moment, the bathroom door swung open. Elias walked out, aggressively towel-drying his hair. Seeing me, his hands froze. “What took you so long?” His tone was thick with accusation. I didn’t answer. My eyes remained fixed on Chloe. I had bought those pajamas just last month. I had purchased that face cream specifically for the harsh mountain weather on this trip. Elias followed my gaze and frowned irritably. “Chloe’s suitcase is jammed all the way in the back of the trunk. I didn’t feel like digging it out.” “Her skin is really sensitive, and she can’t use the cheap hotel lotion, so I told her she could use yours.” He stepped toward me, reaching out to grab my hand. “It’s just a piece of clothing. You’re not going to throw a fit over this too, are you?” I sidestepped his hand, walking straight toward the sofa. I picked up the jar of face cream from the coffee table, grabbed the half-used facial cleanser sitting next to it, and dropped them both straight into the trash can. “Sienna!” Elias’s voice instantly spiked in anger. Chloe looked terrified. Her eyes immediately welled with tears as she took two steps backward. “Elias, don’t yell at Sienna. It’s all my fault.” “I’ll take the clothes off and give them back to her right now.” She reached for the buttons of the silk top, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. Elias aggressively pulled her behind him, shielding her. “Are you done throwing this tantrum?!” He glared at me with absolute fury. “I know I shouldn’t have left you at the rest stop, but there was an emergency!” “Why do you have to come in here and act like a bitch?!” I looked at his furious, twisted face, and realized he looked entirely like a stranger. In the past, if I even got a paper cut, he would panic and run out in the middle of the night to find a pharmacy. Now, my lips had literally turned purple from hypothermia, but all he cared about was whether Chloe was crying. “Take them off.” I looked directly at Chloe, my voice incredibly soft. Chloe flinched, digging her fingers into Elias’s arm. “Sienna, you are taking this way too far!” Elias gritted his teeth. “I’m going to say it one more time. Take them off.” I didn’t raise my voice by a single decibel. Chloe sobbed, turned around, and ran into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she walked out wearing her own oversized sweater. The silk pajamas were left neatly folded at the foot of the bed. I walked over, pinched the fabric between two fingers, and dropped it into the trash can. “You are completely unreasonable.” Elias let out a harsh, bitter laugh. He grabbed Chloe’s hand and pulled her toward the door. “We’re going to my room. We won’t stay here and ruin your night.” The heavy door slammed shut. The room fell into absolute, deafening silence. I walked into the bathroom and splashed freezing water on my face. Looking up, the woman in the mirror was pale and exhausted. It was almost funny. In the five years I had been with Elias, this face had rarely looked genuinely happy. I dried my face, pulled out my phone, and opened my email. I scrolled until I found the email that had been sitting in my inbox for a week. It was an official transfer order from the corporate headquarters in London. They wanted me to lead a massive new project. A week ago, because I had promised Elias I would take this road trip with him, I had drafted an email declining the offer. Now, I clicked “Reply.” “I accept the transfer. I can report to the London office in three days.” The soft whoosh of the email sending echoed loudly in the quiet room. After doing that, I crawled under the heavy duvet. The headache from the altitude was still pounding relentlessly against my skull. But mentally, I felt lighter than I had in years. From the next room over, I could hear Elias and Chloe’s muffled laughter through the wall. They probably assumed that by tomorrow morning, I would come crawling back and apologize, just like I always did. What a shame. There wasn’t going to be a tomorrow. 3 A massive blizzard hit during the night. The mountain pass iced over entirely, and the highway patrol completely shut down the main road out of town. We were stranded. I dragged my suitcase down to the hotel restaurant. Elias was sitting at a table, carefully peeling a hard-boiled egg for Chloe. Seeing my suitcase, his eyes instantly turned cold. “What kind of stunt are you pulling now?” He dropped the peeled egg onto Chloe’s plate. “I’m going back to the city.” My tone was completely flat. “The roads are closed. Where exactly do you think you’re going?” Elias sneered. “Sienna, enough is enough. I already decided I wasn’t going to hold last night against you.” He pointed to the empty chair across from him. “Sit down and eat. We’ll leave when the roads open.” I ignored him entirely, turning around and walking straight toward the hotel’s front doors. But before I could take three steps, a violent wave of dizziness hit me. The altitude sickness had finally crashed over me in full force. I grabbed the nearest marble pillar, gasping desperately for air. Seeing me collapse against the pillar, the young guy working the front desk panicked, ran into the back room, and rushed out holding a portable oxygen canister. “Ma’am, take some oxygen, you need to breathe!” I reached out to take it. But a hand shot out from beside me, snatching the canister right out of the air. Elias held the oxygen, glaring at me with deep irritation. “Why are you faking this?” “Chloe was throwing up all night. She’s actually sick. She needs this.” I slowly lifted my head, staring directly into his eyes. My vision was swimming with black spots from the lack of oxygen. “I… am very sick.” I forced the words out, syllable by agonizing syllable. Elias scoffed. “You spend half your life at the gym. You run half-marathons without breaking a sweat.” “Chloe has been fragile since she was a kid. You seriously have to fight her for this?” Chloe walked over, gently tugging at the edge of Elias’s jacket. “Elias, let it go. I can push through the pain. It’s okay.” “Sienna looks like she’s really suffering.” Despite her saintly words, her fingers remained tightly clamped onto Elias’s sleeve, not letting go. Elias patted her hand gently, then turned back to the front desk. “Do you have any more oxygen? I’ll pay double.” The receptionist shook his head awkwardly. “The blizzard hit last night, so the supply truck couldn’t make it up the mountain. That’s the very last one we have.” Without a second of hesitation, Elias shoved the oxygen canister into Chloe’s arms. “Then she gets it. If something happens, I’ll take full responsibility.” The other guests eating breakfast were openly staring now. I could hear the hushed whispers and judgment. Standing in the center of the lobby, surrounded by staring strangers, my face burned with humiliation. Three years ago, when we got stuck in a snowstorm, he took off his only winter coat, wrapped it tightly around me, and stood in the freezing wind, violently shivering. Now, he was literally snatching the oxygen I needed to breathe out of my hands, just to give it to another woman. A dull, agonizing ache ripped through my chest. It hurt far more than the suffocating altitude sickness. I let go of the marble pillar, forcing myself to stand up straight. Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I turned around and walked back toward the elevators. Elias’s mocking voice drifted after me. “Look at her pretend. Let’s see how long she can keep this act up.” Back in the room, I collapsed onto the mattress. My head felt like it was going to split open. Every breath I took felt like swallowing broken glass. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and texted Julian. “The roads are closed. Are you still in town?” Julian replied almost immediately. “I’m here, but two trucks from my convoy got stuck in the pass. I have to go pull them out.” “I might be late tomorrow. Once I pick you up, I’ll take you straight to the airport.” I typed a single word: “Okay.” I closed my eyes, desperately fighting down the nausea churning in my stomach. A sharp knock hit the door. Elias’s voice came through the heavy wood. “Sienna, Chloe feels much better after the oxygen.” “I brought the rest of the canister for you. Stop playing dead in there.” I didn’t move an inch. I didn’t even have the energy to open my eyes. “Suit yourself. Take it or leave it.” The sound of his heavy footsteps slowly faded down the hall. I forced a bitter, broken smile onto my lips. He was offering me the leftovers another woman had put her mouth on. That night dragged on for an eternity. Drifting in and out of a feverish sleep, I listened to the blizzard howling against the window glass. Tomorrow. If I can just survive until tomorrow, this will all be over.

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After getting ripped to shreds by my advisor during our lab meeting, I sent my online boyfriend a thigh pic to cope. [Do it for Mistress right now!] I looked up. My usually cold, stoic, and sharp-tongued advisor suddenly cleared his throat, his throat tight and the tips of his ears turning bright red. Intrigued, I peeked at his phone screen. Right there, clear as day, was the exact message I had just sent. Oh my god. I froze, utterly dumbfounded. But my stupid, disobedient fingers had already dialed his number for a video call… 1 The buzzing of Kevin’s phone vibrated through the suffocating silence of our lab meeting. I never, in my wildest dreams, would have guessed that my cold-blooded, ruthless advisor was the same online boyfriend who whined and called me “Mistress” in my DMs. Kevin’s finger hovered over the screen. My heart leaped into my throat. Was he actually going to pick up? Please, pick up. Just do it. Only ten minutes ago, he had publicly humiliated me, calling the fifth draft of my thesis complete garbage. Once he realized I was his “Mistress,” there was no way he would block my graduation. Oh, thank god. There was hope for my degree after all. I sat up straight, trying to look composed. The next second, the call was declined. My contact “6’1 Rich Idiot 8-Pack” (a nickname I gave him) sent a flurry of texts: [Baby, I’m in a lab meeting. It’s not convenient right now.] [I’ll call you later, okay? ~] [Transfer: $5,200] [Puppy loves you.gif] I froze, the grin still plastered on my face. Suddenly, Kevin’s sharp voice shattered my thoughts. “Iris! What are you smirking at?” I gasped, jerking my head up. I met Kevin’s cold, piercing gaze. He looked absolutely furious, staring at me with zero intention of saving my dignity. “When you joined this department, you had no major research experience and barely any academic background. I didn’t even want you in my lab. Your counselor practically begged me, saying you were a promising student with raw potential.” “And look at you now.” “Your experiments are a disaster, your writing is absolute nonsense, you don’t contribute a single word in meetings, and now you’re playing on your phone.” “Do you not want to graduate?” Oh, no. I was in deep trouble. My chest tightened with panic. The other students held their breath, their eyes darting toward me in unison. Some looked sympathetic, others confused, and a few just seemed relieved it wasn’t them. I had always been a straight-A student, sailing through my undergraduate years on a sea of compliments from teachers and admiration from peers. But ever since I started my master’s program, I had lost count of how many times Kevin had torn me to pieces over everything from my thesis proposal to my drafts. My face burned with shame. Tears welled in my eyes. But online, he was always so incredibly sweet to me. He would baby me, begging for kisses and telling me how much he adored his mistress. I tried to explain, my voice trembling violently from frustration and nerves. “I… I was just texting my boyfriend. He’s…” “Nobody cares, and nobody wants to hear about your personal drama, Iris,” Kevin cut me off coldly. “If you can’t separate your personal life from professional settings, you can request a transfer to another advisor. I won’t supervise you anymore.” Kevin wasn’t just the youngest tenured professor in the department. His father owned a massive publicly traded company and held significant shares in the university. If he refused to advise me, no other professor would dare take me in for fear of offending him. I would be completely ruined. The blood drained from my face. After a long, agonizing pause, I managed to squeeze out a few words. “I understand. It won’t happen again.” 2 The moment we stepped out of the science building, Nadia, my senior lab partner, turned to me with deep concern. “Iris, what were you thinking, trying to video call your boyfriend right in the middle of a meeting?” Because I just found out Kevin is my online boyfriend, and I was losing my mind with excitement. But looking back, it was incredibly risky. I glanced around to make sure we were alone before lowering my voice. “Nadia, do you think Professor Pendelton would ever date someone online?” Nadia blinked, then let out a laugh. “Are you serious? He’s the department’s untouchable, cold-hearted bachelor. He barely even talks to women. There’s no way he’s doing online dating.” Her expression quickly turned serious. “Don’t tell me you believed those internet rumors about confessing to your advisor to pass your thesis? Those are just fake stories for views, Iris. Don’t fall for them. He’s already frustrated with you. If you pull a stunt like that, you’ll never graduate.” My heart sank. I had thought I struck gold, but from Kevin’s perspective, it would look like deliberate harassment or revenge. After all, I had made him call me “Mistress,” ordered him to wear a chest harness, and demanded photos of his abs. And just minutes ago, I had told him to do it for me. Oh my god, it was so embarrassing, so terrifying. He could never find out it was me. I forced a calm smile. “I was just curious. I’d never actually do something like that.” Nadia sighed in relief. Not long after I got back to my apartment, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Kevin. [Baby, I’m free now. Should I do it for you?] Oh, god. The thought of Kevin, who was always so buttoned-up and severe in person, suddenly stripping down for me in private was overwhelming. The contrast was wild. More importantly, he was my advisor. I didn’t dare push my luck anymore. I replied: [No need.] Kevin panicked instantly: [Why?] [Am I not attractive to you anymore?] [Or are you mad because I didn’t do it right away?] [No wonder you didn’t accept the money.] [Baby, I’m sorry. I really am. Please, just give me a chance to show you.] Then came a video call request. My heart fluttered with the ringing. Maybe because he had just yelled at me so brutally, seeing him act so submissive and desperate gave me a twisted sense of satisfaction. I wanted to make him squirm a little more. I wanted to tease him, maybe even break things off after messing with him. But then I looked at the $5,200 transfer. Fine. I’d treat this like a job and keep playing along for now. But a little humiliation was definitely in order. I accepted the call. As always, we kept our faces out of the frame by mutual agreement. “Baby? Are you mad at me?” His deep, smooth voice drifted through the speaker. I had never connected it to Kevin before, but now that I knew, the resemblance was unmistakable. Afraid he might recognize my voice, I typed my response: [Not mad. Go ahead, I’m watching.] Kevin let out a breath of relief. His tone turned eager. “Okay. I’m starting now.” 3 I watched, unable to tear my eyes away. Kevin unbuckled his belt. “Ah!” The gasp escaped my lips before I could stop it, and I dropped my phone onto the bed in a panic. Even though I talked a big game online and loved reading spicy web novels to destress, I was twenty-four, and this was the first time I had ever seen a man’s… well, let alone my advisor’s. The sheer shock of it was dizzying. Kevin’s voice came through, laced with worry. “Baby? What happened?” “Did I… did I scare you?” I slapped my burning cheeks and declined the call. I typed back deliberately: [Are you sure you’re fully developed?] Kevin: [?] Me: [The male leads in the books I read are usually twelve inches.] Kevin: [Where on earth did you read that?] Kevin: [Those books are pure fiction. Mine is over eight inches, which is plenty. Honestly, I was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle it.] The absolute nerve of this man. My face burned even hotter. [I definitely couldn’t handle it.] [You’re too old anyway.] [I prefer younger guys.] [Maybe I should find a college student instead.] Kevin was thirty, so this blow was bound to hurt. Sure enough, he immediately tried to video call again. When I declined, he sent a frantic voice note. “Baby, you can’t look at other men. Please.” “Whatever you want, whatever size or shape, I can look into cosmetic procedures. I’ll do anything.” “Please.” “Don’t leave me.” “Mistress.” By the end, his voice was actually trembling. I smiled, thoroughly satisfied. Remembering I still had a thesis to revise, I decided to torture him a bit longer. [We’ll see how you behave.] [I have work to do.] Kevin typed back quickly: [What kind of work? Can I help you with it?] He absolutely could, but I didn’t dare say it. [Someone called my writing total garbage. I have to rewrite the whole thing.] Kevin sounded heartbroken for me: [That guy has zero taste. He sounds like an absolute piece of trash.] I burst out laughing. He was literally insulting himself. [Baby, send me the details. I’ll come handle him for you and make him apologize on his knees.] Right. He was just trying to trick me into meeting up. 4 Kevin and I had met on a streaming app. I was a sleep-aid streamer who never showed her face, and he was one of my subscribers. My parents wanted me to enter the workforce as soon as possible and find a decent husband while I was still young, so I had to pursue my master’s degree in secret. Between earning my own tuition and living expenses, and renting an apartment off-campus to keep my secret safe, I was constantly broke. Once I realized Kevin was deeply attached to me and incredibly wealthy, I started playing hard to get. I would ignore his messages or go days without streaming, claiming I was busy with private clients. Kevin would immediately send money to buy my time. I would act cold and aloof: [There are plenty of guys offering me more. Why should I choose you?] Kevin’s voice would sound so pitiful: [What do you want then?] Me: [I want a loyal, obedient puppy. One that only belongs to me and calls me Mistress.] Kevin replied with a simple, cold [Oh]. I thought I had pushed him too far. But then he texted: [Do I need to show off a bit?] [Do you want to see my abs?] Abs? I figured he’d just send some stolen internet photo, which I didn’t mind. Me: [Yes.] Then he sent a voice note, his voice low and incredibly seductive. “I only show my girlfriend.” “Be my girl, and I’ll do whatever you want.” And just like that, we became a couple. But to me, it was just a lucrative side gig. To protect myself, we agreed never to share photos of our faces or reveal our real names. Who would have guessed he was Kevin Pendelton? 5 I replied with mock annoyance: [I’m just worried you’ll show me something ugly.] [Don’t come over.] [Don’t bother me today, or I’ll block you.] Kevin went quiet, as promised. I pocketed the money and put my phone away. But the moment midnight struck, as if he had been watching the clock, he sent a tearful voice message. “Baby, it’s a new day now.” “Are you asleep?” “Whatever you don’t like about me, I can change.” “I want to marry you.” “Please don’t throw me away.” “A mistress shouldn’t abandon her puppy.” “Mistress, please just reply to me.” Having stayed up late to revise my thesis so I could hand it in the next morning, I had been feeling incredibly resentful. But hearing him cry about wanting to marry me was like a wave of pure sweetness. My anger evaporated. I typed: [Am I really that important to you?] Kevin’s voice was raspy but incredibly firm. “Incredibly important.” “You’re the light of my life.” “Every single day of these past two years with you has been the happiest of my life.” “You mean more to me than my own life.” “Let’s meet up. Let’s get married. Let me take care of you forever.” My ears burned. My heart softened. Despite his cold, critical, and arrogant attitude in real life, when I looked at his face, his wealth, his competence… and his current needy, adorable state… I was winning at life. I happily replied: [I hear you. Let’s talk about meeting up in June.] I needed to get my degree in hand before showing my face. Kevin was ecstatic. The next morning, I went to the department building to hand in my draft. Kevin frowned at his monitor. “Are you sure you followed my notes on this revision?” Panic surged in my chest as I leaned closer to the screen. “Yes. Is it still wrong?” Kevin’s face remained expressionless, the atmosphere in his office dropping to freezing point. I nervously fidgeted with the hem of my shirt. “…Should I take it back and fix it again? But I don’t think I know how to make it any better.” Kevin glanced up at me. “Have a little faith in yourself. Let’s just say the path to success is always full of setbacks.” I blinked, surprised by his sudden change of tone. Was he being nice because he was anticipating our meetup? But before that tiny spark of joy could spread, Kevin threw a bucket of ice water over me. “Setbacks are fine, but you’re treating this like a joke.” Me: [embarrassed face.jpg] Kevin pointed his cursor at a paragraph. “What is this section? Did an AI write this for you?” “No, I wrote it myself.” “You wrote this?” Kevin let out a cold, sharp laugh. “If you hand in garbage like this next time, I won’t approve you for the defense. You can just apply for an extension of your graduation.” A loud buzzing filled my ears. I had taken on so much pressure, keeping this master’s program a secret from my parents. If I didn’t graduate, these three years would be a complete waste. How would I explain this to myself, let alone my family? And this was the same guy who had promised to stand up for me last night, yet now he was the one driving me to the brink of insanity. I completely snapped. I slammed my hand down on his desk. “Kevin! Are you seriously going to make your own wife fail her graduation?” Kevin froze, his head snapping up to look at my face. 6 “Iris, calm down.” “As an adult, you should know that throwing tantrums and crying won’t solve anything.” Kevin couldn’t empathize with my breakdown. He sat there, perfectly composed and utterly cold, analyzing my failures once again. Yet this was the same man who cried and begged for my attention just because I replied to his texts late. If tears solved nothing, why did he cry so easily? The double standard was infuriating. I stared at him. Suddenly, it clicked. The cold, unflappable, untouchable man sitting in front of me was the real Kevin. The online version was probably just a persona he used to amuse himself and keep me interested. He didn’t actually love me. The realization made me even angrier. Fortunately, even though I had used the word “wife,” he didn’t connect it to his online mistress. He just assumed I was losing my mind. I wiped away a tear. “But I am losing my mind!” Kevin’s eyes softened slightly with disappointment. His tone quieted down. “How about this. Put the thesis aside for a few days and get some rest.” “If you still feel overwhelmed, I can set you up with a counselor.” “I know you and Nadia are close. I’ll have her keep you company today. I have other matters to attend to.” Kevin made a quick call, and Nadia came to take me away. Since Nadia worked at the university after graduating, she brought me back to her staff apartment. She tried to comfort me. “That’s the first time I’ve ever seen you cry, Iris.” “But compared to the other students who get torn apart by professors, your resilience and capability are actually much stronger.” I sipped the iced coffee she bought me. “But Professor Pendelton is like a demon. I feel like he’s actively trying to prevent me from graduating.” Nadia shook her head gently. “That’s not true. He’s not targeting you. He’s just incredibly demanding with all his students.” “Just push through it. You’ll graduate fine.” But I was terrified I wouldn’t make it. I needed a distraction. That evening, I dragged Nadia out to a local bar. Since I was spending the money Kevin had given me online, I didn’t care about the bill. I ordered round after round of drinks and snacks. As the alcohol started to kick in, I noticed Nadia answering a video call. “Professor Pendelton?” Nadia’s voice sounded surprised. “Oh, no, this is Iris’s phone.” I leaned in, pointing toward the stage. “Nadia, put the phone away. Look at those dancers over there. Let’s hire one…” Nadia quickly covered my mouth to stop me from saying anything worse. She gave the person on the other end of the line our location before hanging up. “Professor Pendelton is coming to pick us up. Don’t say anything crazy in front of him.” My head was spinning, and the warning went right through my ears. 7 Kevin arrived incredibly fast. His hair was slightly windswept, but it didn’t take away from his striking looks. Just standing there in the crowded bar, he drew everyone’s eyes. Nadia greeted him respectfully. But to me, he looked like a ghost. I muttered grumpily: “Why do I see you everywhere? Are you stalking me to ruin my life?” Afraid Kevin would take offense, Nadia quickly intervened. “She really respects you, Professor. She’s just in a bad mood and had a bit too much to drink. Please don’t take it personally.” “I won’t,” Kevin said softly. For once, his cold demeanor was entirely gone. He leaned down, his dark eyes studying my flushed cheeks with a complex expression. His voice was incredibly gentle: “I’ll take you home. Can you stand up and walk?” I couldn’t stand his fake sweetness. I yelled at him: “I don’t need you to take me anywhere!” “I absolutely hate you!” Nadia panicked and tried to cover my mouth again, but Kevin stopped her with a wave of his hand. Those sharp, perceptive eyes of his were soft as they rested on me. “Why do you hate me?” “Because you won’t let me graduate!” As the alcohol lowered my defenses, my frustrations poured out. “I kept this whole program a secret from my parents, hoping a master’s degree would help me get a better job. Now I might not even get the degree, I have zero work experience, and I’m getting older. I’m going to be ruined!” People around us began to stare. Kevin frowned slightly, speaking softly: “I never said I wouldn’t let you graduate. Let’s get out of here first.” Nadia, also wanting to avoid a scene, grabbed our bags and stood up. The moment she moved, I lost my support and slipped sideways onto the sofa. Seeing this, Kevin reached out. He pulled me up from the sofa, wrapping one arm around my back and the other beneath my knees, lifting me effortlessly into a bridal carry. Nadia’s eyes went wide with shock. The sudden movement startled me, my body suspended in the air. “What are you doing?” Kevin was tall and strong, carrying me easily as he walked toward the exit, murmuring softly: “You can’t walk straight. I’m carrying you to my car.” I struggled, trying to get down. But his arms were like iron bands, holding me securely against his chest. I was furious. I pounded on his shoulder. “Put me down! I don’t want you! I hate looking at you! I really do!” Kevin’s throat moved, a flicker of panic crossing his eyes. But he only tightened his grip, keeping me steady as he carefully placed me into the passenger seat of his car. 8 I woke up the next afternoon with a pounding headache. I rubbed my temples and looked around. It was an unfamiliar room with unfamiliar sheets. After a brief moment of panic, I realized I had no memory of how I got here. I remembered going to the bar with Nadia. I scrambled for my phone and dialed her number. Nadia quickly reassured me, saying she had stayed with me at the hotel because I was too drunk to give them my address. She had to leave for work early in the morning and didn’t want to wake me. But then she dropped a terrifying piece of information. “You cried, screamed, and practically wrestled with Professor Pendelton last night. You even got tears and snot all over his shirt, and you know how much of a neat freak he is.” I blanked out. My graduation felt further away than ever. I groaned: “How did he even end up with us?” Nadia sighed. “He came to pick us up.” “But honestly, I think he realized he drove you to the edge. He kept apologizing and trying to calm you down. You don’t have to worry, I don’t think he’s going to hold it against you.” Still, I couldn’t help but feel anxious. After a quick wash, I stepped out of the room. The moment I opened the door, I saw Kevin standing straight at the end of the hallway. He wore a crisp white shirt, buttoned all the way to the top, and tailored black trousers. He radiated an air of quiet sophistication. But as he looked down at me, his gaze seemed almost hesitant. As if he were afraid of me. Was Nadia right? Was he actually worried he had broken his student? I suppressed a smirk. Good. He deserved to feel a little rattled after being so cold to me. But since he was still my advisor, I couldn’t afford to push my luck. Just as I was about to apologize for the night before, Kevin spoke in a low, gravelly voice. “Iris, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize…” “Now that you know, are you still going to hold back my graduation?” I interrupted. I didn’t want to hear his polite apologies or excuses. I only cared about one thing. Kevin’s eyes softened, his tone firm. “No.” I let out a breath, though I was still worried. “…But I really can’t seem to get the thesis right.” “I will teach you.” Kevin looked at me with an earnest expression, as if I were the one in charge. In a soft, almost vulnerable tone, he delivered an incredibly firm offer: “Bring your laptop to my place. I’ll go through every detail with you until the draft is perfect.” My eyes widened. If I had known throwing a tantrum was this effective, I would have done it months ago. 9 To prevent him from changing his mind, I wasted no time. I went straight back to my apartment, grabbed my laptop, and headed to his place. Kevin had never asked us to do personal work for him, and none of his students had ever been to his apartment. This was a first. It was a stunning three-hundred-square-meter penthouse overlooking the river. The interior was minimalist, decorated in sleek shades of gray and white, reflecting his expensive taste. In the study, I sat in front of the laptop. Kevin sat right next to me, one arm draped over the back of my chair, the other resting on the desk beside me. The proximity was intense, making it feel as if he were holding me in his arms. I could feel the warmth radiating from him. His breath would occasionally brush against the back of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine. It felt incredibly intimate. But Kevin was usually so strict about boundaries, always keeping his office door wide open when female students visited. He was not the type to cross lines. I forced myself to ignore the strange tension. As we worked on the second chapter, Kevin suggested a break and brought out some fresh lychees. I loved lychees, but I hated peeling them. Without thinking, I murmured: “Peeling them makes my fingers sticky. I won’t be able to type.” “Open your mouth.” “What?” I turned my head. A sweet, peeled lychee was pressed gently against my lips. As I bit into the fruit, a drop of juice ran down my lip and onto Kevin’s finger. Kevin’s throat moved. He pulled his hand back. Instead of grabbing a napkin, he raised his hand and licked the juice off his finger. What on earth? Wasn’t he supposed to be a neat freak? He just licked something that had my saliva on it. Kevin smiled, his eyes warm as he looked at me. “Very sweet. I’ve peeled them all for you. Keep working, and I’ll feed you.” Feed me? Sitting in my advisor’s luxury penthouse, having him guide me through my thesis step-by-step while hand-feeding me fruit. This was ridiculous, and I wanted to laugh. But I managed to keep a straight face. After all, I still had a long way to go before graduation, and he could easily make my life difficult later. I spat the seed into the trash. “Thank you, Professor, but actually, I absolutely hate lychees.” Kevin froze, his lips twitching slightly. “…You really… hate them?” His voice was so low I could barely hear it. I wanted to make sure I heard him correctly. I leaned closer. “What did you say?” Kevin pressed his lips together, a look of quiet disappointment in his eyes. “I said, since you don’t like lychees, I’ll go wash some other fruit for you.” 10 Kevin hurried out of the study, his steps almost unsteady. I felt like he was acting incredibly strange. Moreover, he hadn’t messaged me on the app all day. I opened our chat. He had sent a flurry of messages the night before, ending with a missed video call at 11:20 PM. But today, nothing. The needy puppy was suddenly quiet. I typed: [What are you doing?] Kevin replied instantly: [Thinking about you.] The usual sweet talk. Me: [Thinking about me? Then why haven’t you messaged me all day?] Maybe he was busy, or maybe he was trying to figure out how to explain his absence, because he didn’t reply right away. Feeling a bit bored, I looked up and saw Kevin standing at the study door, staring straight at me. The confusion in his eyes had cleared, replaced by a soft smile. The trauma of being scolded for using my phone during meetings was still fresh. I forced a polite smile. “You told me to take a break, so I was just checking my phone.” “Go ahead. I’m taking a break too.” Kevin walked in, setting a fruit platter next to me before sitting in the chair across the desk. My phone buzzed. It was a message from Kevin. [A little kid is throwing a tantrum and refusing to work on her assignments, so I’ve been helping her rewrite them. That’s why I couldn’t text you.] Kid? He was the kid. I looked up, only to find him staring at me with an intense gaze while typing blindly on his screen. I quickly looked down as another message arrived. Kevin: [I love you.] My heart skipped a beat. Picturing those words coming from Kevin’s ridiculously handsome face made my cheeks burn. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. Did he know? Had my cover been blown? Probably not. He said things like that online all the time. But the way he was looking at me made me incredibly nervous. I wanted to leave. I took a deep breath. “Professor, can we get back to the thesis? I’d love to finish it today.” Kevin’s gaze lingered on me, his tone relaxed. “We won’t finish today.” “Why?” “I have other students’ work to review. They’re all waiting on me. Do you expect me to ignore everyone else just to focus on you?” I choked on my words. “That’s not what I meant. I just thought…” “Don’t worry, I won’t hold you back. Just follow my lead. I need to take care of some things first.” Without waiting for my reply, Kevin left the study. What would have taken a single day was being dragged out on purpose. I bit my lip. Still, it was better than failing.

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1 The first time I heard a corpse speak was in the department autopsy room. My mentor glanced over the autopsy report, his voice flat. “Classic suicide. Let’s close the case.” The lead detective nodded in silence. Outside the door, the victim’s mother was on her knees, sobbing to the point of collapse. But I was the only one who heard a raspy, female voice whisper: “I didn’t kill myself.” The hemostatic forceps in my hand clattered onto the metal tray with a sharp clang. Everyone in the room turned to look at me. My mentor frowned. “Summer, you’re an intern. Can’t you even keep your hands steady?” I stared at the pale, lifeless face on the table. The next second, she spoke again. “The killer is in this very room.” The air in the autopsy room instantly froze. Slowly, my gaze drifted toward my mentor’s blood-stained hands. On my very first day, the director told me: “In forensics, the most important trait is composure. Dead bodies don’t lie, but the living do.” Back then, I didn’t dare tell him the truth. Dead bodies actually do speak. Ever since I was a child, I could hear strange voices. When I was little, our old cat died. I held him and cried, only to hear him grumble in my ear: “Stop crying, you’re getting snot all over my fur.” I was so terrified I didn’t sleep for three days. Later, when my grandmother passed away, everyone was weeping in the funeral home. My grandmother’s body, however, whispered in my ear: “Your aunt stole my gold bracelet again. There’s a savings card under the third brick beneath my bed. Don’t let her take it.” I went to the spot she mentioned and actually found the card. From then on, I knew I wasn’t normal. But I also realized that the dead were far more honest than the living. So when it came time to choose my college major, I kept everyone in the dark and applied for forensic medicine. I figured if I was cursed to hear these voices, I might as well make them useful. But I never expected that on my first day at the precinct, I would hear a murder victim cry out for justice. The woman on the autopsy table was Kate, twenty-eight, a product manager at a tech company. The case seemed straightforward. She was found dead in her apartment bathtub, her left wrist sliced deep. The doors and windows were locked from the inside, the tub was filled with bloody water, and a paring knife lay nearby. A suicide note was saved in her phone: “I’m so tired. I’m sorry, Mom.” Everything pointed to a clear conclusion. Suicide. But she said she didn’t do it. I stood frozen, a cold sweat breaking out across my back. My mentor, Dr. Gregory, glanced at me, his voice cool. “Summer, keep recording.” Dr. Gregory was a legendary forensic expert in the city. He was forty-seven, had been in the field for over twenty years, conducted thousands of autopsies, and solved countless major cases. My university professors always spoke of him with absolute reverence. If he declared it a suicide, almost no one would question it. Yet at this moment, the female voice in my ear was trembling with terror. “I didn’t cut myself.” “When I woke up, my wrist was already being held down in the water.” “He was wearing gloves.” “He was smiling.” My throat tightened. I looked down at the body. Kate’s face was devoid of color, but her lips were stretched into a stiff, unnatural angle, as if they had been brutally forced into a grimace of agony. I couldn’t help but speak up. “Dr. Gregory, isn’t the cut on her left wrist a bit too clean?” Dr. Gregory was pulling off his latex gloves. He paused. The autopsy room fell into a dead silence. Detective Jones, the lead investigator, raised his eyes to look at me. Outside the door, Kate’s mother stopped crying and looked up. Dr. Gregory turned slowly, his gaze locking onto me. “What did you say?” I swallowed hard. “I just think the angle of the wound is unusual. If she used her right hand to cut her left wrist, there would typically be hesitation wounds. But she has none. The cut is so clean it looks like it was done in a single, fluid motion.” Dr. Gregory let out a soft, dismissive laugh. “Summer, today is your first day as an intern.” I gripped my pen tightly. “I know.” “Then act like it,” he said, closing the autopsy file. “Textbook theories aren’t meant for you to show off at an active crime scene.” The other assistant pathologists lowered their heads, remaining silent. Dr. Gregory continued: “The victim had trace amounts of blood on her right hand, her fingerprints were on the knife handle, there were no signs of forced entry, and the suicide note was confirmed to be written on her phone. Tell me, if this isn’t suicide, what is it?” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In my ear, Kate’s voice suddenly turned shrill. “I didn’t touch that knife!” “I didn’t write that note!” “He knew my passcode! He knew it!” My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn’t tell them I heard the dead speaking. No one would believe me. They would just lock me up in a psychiatric ward. Seeing my silence, Dr. Gregory’s eyes flickered with amusement. “It’s good for young people to ask questions, but skepticism must be backed by evidence. Otherwise, it’s just a desperate cry for attention.” The words felt like a slap to my face. My cheeks burned. But just as he turned to walk away, Kate spoke again. 2 “My fingernails.” “Look at my right middle finger.” “There’s skin under there.” I looked down instantly. Kate’s right hand rested at her side, her fingers slightly curled. Her nails were short, painted with a light pink polish, showing no obvious signs of struggle. Ignoring Dr. Gregory’s cold stare, I pulled on a fresh pair of gloves and picked up a magnifying glass. Deep inside the nail bed of her right middle finger, there was a tiny, almost imperceptible speck of dark red tissue. It was minuscule. If I hadn’t been actively looking for it, it would have been easily dismissed as dried blood. My breath caught. “Detective Jones,” I called out, my voice tight. “There’s a trace of what looks like skin tissue under the victim’s right middle fingernail. I recommend we run a DNA test on it.” Detective Jones walked over. He was in his early thirties, with sharp, serious features, known as a relentless workaholic in the homicide division. He leaned down to look, his expression shifting. Dr. Gregory walked back over as well. He stared at it for a second, his expression darkening. “A bathtub is a complex environment. It’s perfectly normal for debris to get trapped under the nails.” “But if she took her own life, why would she have someone else’s skin under her nail?” I countered. “Are you certain that’s skin?” “No, which is why we need to test it.” Dr. Gregory stared at me, his eyes cold. “Summer, do you have any idea what you’re doing right now?” Of course I knew. I was challenging the conclusion of a highly respected forensic expert. I was using my position as a mere intern to hold up a suicide report that was about to be officially signed off. I also knew that if I was wrong, my career in forensics would be over before it even started. But Kate’s voice was crying in my head. “Please.” “My mom only has me.” Outside the door, Kate’s mother leaned against the wall, her eyes swollen and red. “Detective, my daughter would never do this.” “She just told me yesterday she was going to take me to the hospital for my checkup this weekend.” “She wouldn’t leave me alone.” At that moment, I remembered my grandmother’s words before her casket was closed. “Don’t fear the dead, Summer. The dead won’t hurt you. The ones you should fear are the living who keep their mouths shut.” I looked up, meeting their eyes. “Detective Jones, I’d like to formally request a secondary examination.” The air in the room seemed to freeze. Detective Jones didn’t answer immediately. Dr. Gregory’s face, however, had turned incredibly grim. He took off his wire-rimmed glasses and began to wipe them slowly with a cloth, his voice dangerously calm. “You’re requesting it?” He looked at me as if I were a ridiculous joke. “Summer, you don’t even have the authority to sign off on an official opinion.” “I know, which is why I’m making a recommendation.” “A recommendation?” he sneered. “Your recommendation will force the detectives to reopen a settled case, give the family false hope, and delay an obvious conclusion. Can you take responsibility for the consequences?” My fingers turned cold. Detective Jones finally spoke. “Dr. Gregory, since we found potential physical evidence, running a quick test won’t disrupt our timeline.” Dr. Gregory stiffened. “Do you think I made a mistake, Detective?” 3 Detective Jones’s face remained neutral. “I only follow the evidence.” The autopsy room fell silent. Dr. Gregory stared at him for a few seconds before letting out a soft laugh. “Very well. Since you’re both so insistent, we’ll run the test.” He put his glasses back on, his cold gaze landing on me. “But let me remind you, Summer, forensics isn’t a detective novel. Dead bodies don’t bend to your imagination.” I lowered my head. In my ear, Kate whispered: “Thank you.” Her voice was incredibly faint, like a fading breeze. Getting a rush DNA test would take some time. Detective Jones ordered the evidence to be secured and put a hold on closing the case. As I helped the other assistants clean up the autopsy room, an uneasy feeling lingered in my chest. Kate had said the killer was in this room. But at the time, the only people present were me, Dr. Gregory, Detective Jones, two assistant pathologists, and a female clerk. Detective Jones was a homicide investigator, the two assistants had been right beside me the entire time, and the clerk was a woman. So who was the “he” Kate referred to? My gaze kept drifting back to Dr. Gregory. He was washing his hands. The stream of water washed over his fingers, carrying away a faint trace of blood. As if sensing my gaze, he suddenly looked up, meeting my eyes in the mirror. My heart leaped. Dr. Gregory offered a thin, cold smile. “Summer.” “Yes, Dr. Gregory?” “Come to my office after you finish up.” His voice was smooth, but it sent a chill down my spine. By seven in the evening, the forensic center was mostly dark, save for the hallway lights. I knocked on his door. “Come in.” The office was dimly lit, with only a desk lamp casting a warm glow. Dr. Gregory sat behind his desk, my internship file open in front of him. He didn’t invite me to sit. “Your academic record is impressive.” I stood near the door, keeping quiet. “Top of your class, perfect scores in anatomy, excellent recommendation letters from your professors.” He turned a page, his tone indifferent. “But you’re too eager.” I pressed my lips together. “I wasn’t trying to show off, Dr. Gregory.” “I know,” he said, looking up. “You wanted to prove yourself.” I blinked in surprise. He closed the folder. “Every year, I see interns like you. Smart, sensitive, ambitious, thinking they can change the world.” “But this isn’t a classroom. Every word we write affects the course of justice, and every decision impacts the living and the dead.” His words sounded incredibly professional. If Kate’s voice weren’t still echoing in my mind, I might have actually believed him and doubted myself. Dr. Gregory stood up and walked over to me. “I can overlook what happened today.” I looked at him. His tone softened. “Tomorrow, write a brief statement explaining that your lack of experience led you to mistake a contaminant for skin tissue. We’ll withdraw the test request, and I’ll make sure it doesn’t affect your final evaluation.” I finally understood why he called me here. He was trying to pressure me. “But the sample has already been sent to the lab,” I said. Dr. Gregory smiled. “It can always be recalled.” “Why would we do that?” Silence stretched between us for a few long seconds. The warmth on Dr. Gregory’s face faded completely. “Summer, don’t back yourself into a corner.” My back pressed against the wooden door, my palms slick with sweat. Just then, a faint whisper drifted from the storage cabinet in the corner of the office. 4 “Don’t listen to him.” I snapped my head toward the corner. A black evidence bin sat on the bottom shelf. The label read: Kate’s Case. I heard it clearly. It wasn’t a body. It was the evidence speaking. To be precise, it was the blood-soaked white shirt inside the bin. “He touched me.” “He cut off my cuff.” My skin prickled with goosebumps. The cuff? When Kate’s blood-stained clothes were brought in, I hadn’t paid close attention to the sleeves. Dr. Gregory frowned, noticing my distraction. “What are you looking at?” I forced my gaze back. “Nothing.” He stared at me, as if trying to read my thoughts. I took a deep breath. “I won’t withdraw the request, Dr. Gregory.” His eyes turned cold as flint. “Are you sure about that?” “Yes.” He nodded slowly. “Very well.” He sat back down, picked up his pen, and tapped it against my folder. “I hope you don’t regret this.” The next morning, the atmosphere at the forensic center had shifted. In the breakroom, staff members were whispering. “Did you hear? The new intern openly challenged Dr. Gregory yesterday.” “Is she out of her mind? Dr. Gregory has decades of experience. Who does she think she is?” “Kids these days just want to be heroes the second they get on a case.” I stood outside with my mug, listening. When they noticed me, they shut up immediately. I pretended not to hear, though the words still stung. By nine in the morning, the preliminary DNA results came back. The tissue found under the nail did not belong to Kate. It didn’t match anyone on the scene or the initial responders either. In the conference room, Detective Jones tossed the report onto the table. “There was a third person on the scene.” The room fell dead silent. Dr. Gregory’s face tightened for a fraction of a second, but he quickly regained his composure. He glanced at the report. “It only proves she had contact with someone before her death. It doesn’t prove homicide.” “Which is why we’re reopening the investigation,” Detective Jones replied. Dr. Gregory nodded. “Of course.” He agreed so quickly it made me uneasy. Detective Jones turned to me. “Summer, you mentioned the wound angle was off. Explain.” Everyone looked at me. Dr. Gregory sat at the head of the table, expressionless. I turned on the projector and enlarged the photo of Kate’s wrist. “The wound on the victim’s left wrist starts on the outer side and cuts straight across, with a uniform depth. If she had done this herself with her right hand, the cut would typically start shallow, deepen in the middle, and taper off at the end.” I pulled up another slide. “But this wound has no hesitation marks and is perfectly even, suggesting a steady hand. The person holding the blade was likely standing to her left.” Detective Jones asked, “So it’s highly probable it was done by someone else?” “Yes.” Dr. Gregory spoke up. “Highly probable?” He looked at me. “Forensics doesn’t deal in probabilities, Summer.” “Which is why I need to perform a follow-up examination,” I said. “On what?” I pointed at the evidence bin. “The victim’s clothes.”

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I was the ultimate codependent fool. I had a bleach-blonde, deadbeat boyfriend who was undeniably hot, and I had already planned out our entire lives, down to the names of our future children. Then, after eighteen years of surviving in an orphanage, I discovered I was actually the long-lost heiress of a billionaire family. There was already a fake heiress living in my place. On the day they brought me home, I dragged a battered suitcase in my left hand and my bleach-blonde bad boy in my right. My fake sister, who had probably spent days preparing for an epic turf war with me, completely forgot to cry. She just stared at us in sheer, unadulterated shock. My biological parents hesitated, finally asking me in hushed, nervous voices, “Sweetheart… Jude, who is this gentleman?” I leaned affectionately against his shoulder. “He’s my boyfriend. We’ve already decided to have a massive wedding first, pop out a baby, and then officially sign the marriage papers the second we hit the legal age.” My new older brother stared at Zack. Bleached hair, a slouch that screamed unemployed, a stained tank top, baggy basketball shorts, and a pair of cheap knockoff sneakers. Honestly, aside from his face, which was admittedly handsome, absolutely nothing about him was acceptable. The entire room fell dead silent. I could practically hear them wondering if our ancestors were spinning in their graves. Zack and I locked eyes and shared a subtle, knowing smirk. The show was officially on. 1 My name is Jude Harrington. Before I got my fancy last name, I was just Jude, a parentless nobody at the local orphanage. My proudest achievement in life was snagging an insanely hot boyfriend. His bleached hair was wild, and the moment I saw him, I was utterly obsessed. It took a lot of chasing to get him to agree to date me. Nobody understood our love, but that didn’t matter. I was never letting him go. So, on the day I was found and brought back to the Harrington estate, I literally wept, begging him to come with me. “Zack, please! My family is rich, like, insanely rich! Come with me. I can’t breathe without you!” Zack gave me a look so dripping with disdain it made my heart flutter. “You said it yourself, babe. You are the one begging me.” I nodded frantically. Without him, I would literally wither away. When the Harrington family butler arrived to pick me up, he took one look at Zack, his eyes filling with immediate disgust. “Miss, your parents sent me to bring you home. This gentleman, however…” Zack scoffed. “You heard the man, Jude. It is not that I don’t want to go. I won’t stand in the way of your rich life. Let’s just break up.” I threw myself onto him, clinging like a koala. “Don’t you dare say that word! I will never let you break up with me!” The butler stepped forward, trying to pull me off, his professional composure shattering into pure shock. “Don’t touch me! If I can’t be with Zack, I am not going anywhere! What is the point of being rich if he leaves me?!” Zack made a show of trying to walk away, and I wailed, holding onto his waist for dear life. Zack’s ears flushed a bright red under his bleached hair as passersby stopped to whisper and watch the drama. The butler looked like he wanted to dig a hole and crawl into it. “Miss! Fine! He can come! Just please, get up off the pavement!” The moment I heard that, I beamed, looking up at Zack proudly. “See? You can come with me now! Please don’t dump me, okay?” He finally relented, giving a reluctant nod. My heart swelled with victory. The butler opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. I told Zack to sit back and relax while I single-handedly hauled our heavy bags into the trunk. The butler and the driver rushed to help, and I thanked them profusely. The butler shot an utterly bewildered look at Zack, who was casually picking his nails. How on earth did an heiress grow up to be such a brain-dead, codependent mess in that orphanage? But I did not care what they thought. I was in absolute paradise. 2 When the car pulled up to the Harrington estate, Zack stared at the massive, sprawling mansion. I stared too. I had never seen a house this big in my entire life. As we got out, I was greeted by the sight of my fake sister, Rose, weeping gracefully while my biological parents and brother desperately tried to comfort her. My presence felt like a sudden intrusion, and I stood there awkwardly. It was only when the butler cleared his throat that the family finally noticed me. My biological mother froze, her eyes locked on my face. The resemblance was uncanny; we had the exact same eyes. Tears welled in her eyes as she rushed forward to hug me. “Jude… oh, my sweet Jude!” I felt a sudden rush of warmth and my own eyes grew misty. Rose clearly had not expected me to look so much like our mother. Her face went through a rapid succession of shock, jealousy, and fear. But when she saw my worn-out clothes, her expression softened into a pitying, guilty look. Zack, seeing that the spotlight was entirely on us, cleared his throat loudly. Mrs. Harrington blinked, looking from me to Zack, and then shot a questioning glance at the butler. “I thought you went to bring our daughter home. Who is this?” The butler looked like he was swallowing glass. “This is Miss Jude’s boyfriend. She insisted on bringing him along.” The courtyard fell dead silent. “B-Boyfriend?” I blushed right on cue, looking down with perfect shyness. “Yes, Mom. This is Zack.” My new older brother, Nate, and my father stared at Zack. Their faces were a picture of pure disgust. They had expected to bring home a dignified daughter, not a girl trailing a street punk. Mrs. Harrington immediately assumed I was being coerced. She could not bear to think of how much I must have suffered, being taken advantage of by a lowlife like him. Her heart practically broke. She squeezed my hands tightly. “My poor Jude, you must have been through so much. Don’t worry, your parents and your brother are here now. You don’t have to be afraid of him. We will get rid of him right now.” Zack knew exactly how they felt about him. He nudged my foot with his cheap sneaker. “Well, looks like your family is too fancy for a guy like me. I’m leaving, Jude. Don’t come looking for me. We are done.” I secretly glared at his foot, then instantly switched back to my dramatic, tearful act. My eyes turned red in a second. “Zack, no! Don’t be like this! My family will accept you!” Before anyone could stop me, I dropped to my knees on the gravel. Seeing that Zack still was not placated, I realized the obstacle was my new family. I turned around to face them. “Mom, Dad, Nate, Rose! Quick, get down here and kneel with me! Help me beg Zack so he won’t leave me!” My family’s faces turned blacker than coal. The Harringtons, one of the most prominent families in Silverwood, kneeling to a bleach-blonde deadbeat? If word of this got out, they would be the laughingstock of high society. Rose looked like she had misheard me, tugging at Nate’s sleeve in disbelief. “Nate, am I dreaming? Is she… mentally unstable?” The Harringtons suddenly realized that their long-lost daughter might actually have a screw loose. Mrs. Harrington’s mouth twitched violently. “Jude, sweetheart, please get up first.” She had planned to shower me with affection and make up for lost time, but this sudden blow left her completely speechless. “No, Mom! I can’t live without Zack! We already planned our wedding and our first baby! He’ll never leave me once we have a child, and we’ll sign the papers the second we hit the legal age!” What kind of outdated, toxic nonsense was this coming from an eighteen-year-old girl? Mrs. Harrington swayed, nearly fainting on the spot. Rose rushed to support her. “Sister, even if you want me gone, you don’t have to hurt Mom like this. Do you know how much she looked forward to your return?” Rose scolded me, subtly implying that I was doing this on purpose to hurt the family. Mr. Harrington’s gaze turned cold and suspicious. I shot a quick glance at Zack, and he caught the cue instantly. “Fine, it’s clear I don’t belong here. I’ll just go.” As he turned, I lunged forward, grabbing his legs. My knees scraped against the gravel, drawing blood, but I did not care. “Rose, you are trying to tear us apart! I don’t even care about being a Harrington! If I can be with Zack, I’ll happily sleep on cardboard and eat instant ramen for the rest of my life!” With the neighbors from the adjacent villas starting to peek through their gates, the situation was spiraling out of control. Nate’s head was throbbing, and Mr. Harrington’s face was completely rigid. My legal documents had already been processed; they could not just let me run away. “Enough! Everyone inside!” Mr. Harrington barked, trying to save whatever dignity they had left. “Rose, help your mother. And you… sir, come inside as well.” Zack smirked, finally looking satisfied. “Fine, since you’re so sincere, Jude, I’ll let it go this once. I won’t dump you today.” I beamed and scrambled to my feet, leaving Mr. Harrington and Nate looking even more horrified. 3 Mr. Harrington was probably questioning whether there was a defect in the family gene pool. How else could their brilliant lineage produce such a codependent fool? In other areas, however, my intelligence was undeniable. I had inherited the family’s academic brains, consistently ranking first in my classes and scoring near perfect on my college entrance exams. Once Mrs. Harrington recovered her composure inside, she introduced my siblings properly. “This is your older brother, Nate, and your sister, Rose.” “Jude, we know you’ve suffered. But we raised Rose as our own, and the hospital mix-up was an accident. We investigated and found that her biological parents wanted to abandon her anyway, so…” At this, Rose started crying again. I wondered if she was made of water. “Sister, I know I took your place and let you suffer for eighteen years,” Rose sobbed. “I will pack my bags and leave the Harrington house. I’ll give everything back to you.” Seeing her try to play the victim, I immediately cut her off. “Rose, don’t say that! If it weren’t for that mistake, I would have never met Zack!” I leaned heavily on Zack’s shoulder. He wrapped an arm around me, shooting a smug, provocative look at Rose. Mrs. Harrington, trying to maintain her poise, walked over and gently pried Zack’s hand off my shoulder. She even took a tissue and brushed off my sleeve, as if his touch had contaminated me. Mr. Harrington quickly changed the subject. I did not mind. I knew they would never kick Rose out; she was a useful pawn, and she posed no threat to me anyway. “Since Jude doesn’t mind, we’ll leave things as they are for now,” Mr. Harrington said. “Jude, have you decided on a university?” He had investigated my academic records before bringing me home. “I’m leaning toward Everton University,” I replied. Hearing the name of the prestigious Ivy League-equivalent school, Mr. Harrington looked pleased. “Good. Everton is excellent. Your brother graduated from there as well.” Rose lowered her head. Her grades were mediocre, barely scraping the minimum requirements for a decent local college, which made her even more insecure in this house. I looked at Nate, and then delivered a line that shattered their fleeting joy. “But Zack’s grades aren’t very good. He didn’t get in. I don’t want to be apart from him, so I’m thinking of skipping college altogether.” Rose and Mrs. Harrington gasped. Nate stared at me like I had lost my mind. “Nonsense!” Mr. Harrington roared, slamming his hand on the table. “How can you gamble with your future? You are a Harrington! With your potential, you could easily surpass your brother. You—” Before he could finish, Zack let out a loud, dramatic yawn, cutting him off. “Hey, I’m tired. Get someone to show me to my room.” I immediately turned to my parents, completely ignoring my father’s rage. “Zack is tired. Can we get him a room?” Mr. Harrington’s face was practically purple. “There is a guest room on the first floor. Your room, Jude, is on the third floor, right next to Rose’s.” Mrs. Harrington quickly added, “Yes, sweetheart. I didn’t know what style you’d like, so I had it done in a simple, minimalist design. If you don’t like it, we can hire a designer to completely redo it.” Rose chimed in, “Yes, sister. If you prefer my room, I can give it to you.” Zack ignored them all. He strolled up to the second floor, looked around, and pointed at a large master suite. “I’ll take this one.” Nate’s face darkened. “Absolutely not. That is my room.” Zack looked at him, then shrugged at me. “Whatever. Since there is no place for me here, I’ll just leave. I don’t do guest rooms.” The moment Zack threatened to walk, I threw myself onto the floor and locked my arms around Nate’s legs. “Nate! It’s just a room! Give it to him! If you don’t, I’m never letting go!” “No! No way! That is my room!” Nate yelled, trying to shake me off. “Nate, it’s just a room! How can you be so incredibly stingy?!” “I’m stingy? He is trying to take over my space! He doesn’t belong here!” Nate was practically laughing from pure rage. But his words were a sharp sting to Rose, who sat quietly, feeling like the real intruder. Mr. Harrington glared at Zack. “That room belongs to the heir of the Harrington family. Who do you think you are to demand it?” Zack smirked. “So I’m not good enough, huh? Fine. I’ll go back to the orphanage.” Hearing the word ‘orphanage,’ I burst into loud, hysterical wails. “When I was at the orphanage, Zack was the only one who protected me! He is my hero! Nobody is going to kick him out! You have no idea what I went through there! You are trying to drive away my savior and my only love!” My screams were so piercing that even Zack looked stunned. This was not in our script. “Enough!” Mr. Harrington finally broke. He looked at me crying on the floor, at Nate who was trapped by my death grip, and at Zack, who was casually leaning against the second-floor railing. “Nate… let him have the room for now.” “Dad?!” Nate could not believe his ears. He was being kicked out of his own room for a lowlife punk? Zack offered a smug smile, walked into the room, and shut the door behind him. Only my brother was left trembling with rage, looking like he was on the verge of a stroke. Rose stood in the corner, thoroughly confused. This was not how the ‘fake vs. real heiress’ drama was supposed to go. Where was the rivalry? Why was she the only one stressing out in this house? The next morning, Rose tried to orchestrate a classic trap. She poured a glass of milk over her own designer dress right in front of me, preparing to blame me. When my parents rushed over to scold me, I looked at my empty glass and began to sob. “I just made that milk for Zack. He told me if he didn’t get his morning milk, he’d break up with me! Now it’s ruined!” Suddenly, the family’s glares shifted entirely to Rose. Mrs. Harrington sighed. “Rose, if you wanted milk, you could have asked the maid. There was no need to ruin your sister’s hard work.” Rose’s face turned bright red with frustration. I ignored her, turning back to pour another glass. “Rose, please don’t steal Zack’s milk again.” “I… I would steal milk from that deadbeat?!” Rose gasped, clutching her chest to keep from fainting. With Zack around, none of Rose’s schemes worked. Instead, she was the one constantly ending up frustrated. She initially thought I was putting on an act. But when she saw me hand-washing Zack’s smelly, sweat-stained socks without a single complaint, she was finally convinced. I was a hopeless, brain-dead romantic. If anyone dared to ask Rose to wash socks like those, she would have had her bodyguards beat them half to death before taking a silk-bleach bath. Too embarrassed to vent to her high-society friends, Rose completely gave up on competing with me. Instead, she opened her laptop and typed into the search bar: How to cure extreme codependency.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “496746”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel