When my daughter turned six, I started forcing her to do household chores. I recorded everything on camera. She wasn’t even as tall as the kitchen counter. Standing on a little toddler stepping stool, she struggled and fumbled, failing over and over again. Frustrated to the point of tears, she threw tantrums, begging me to let her stop. But I just stared at her with deadpan calm, ordering her to keep going. The internet tore me apart. Keyboard warriors called me a clout-chaser, accusing me of abusing my kid for views. Some even questioned if I was her real mother. That was until six months later, when a video of me finally stepping in front of the lens went viral. It was my digital suicide note, left solely for my little girl. In the video, I smiled at the camera. “When I’m gone, let these videos keep you company.” “Whenever you miss Mom, just come here and take a look.” 1 After the cancer diagnosis, the only thing tethering my soul to this earth was my daughter, Lily. She was only six. Tiny, soft, with a little bob and blunt bangs. Absolutely precious. Everyone in the family spoiled her rotten. But she was naturally introverted. Timid, even. Whether she wanted a toy or felt wronged, she never had the guts to speak up. I always had to notice her quiet pouting and gently coax the words out of her. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be a big deal. Kids grow out of it. She would have been fine. But the doctor told me I had six months left. At most. I didn’t have the luxury of waiting for her to grow up. The sweeter and more obedient she was, the more my heart felt like it was being fed through a meat grinder. I was terrified that without a mother, she would become a target for playground bullies. I was terrified she wouldn’t be cared for, or worse, neglected. My husband and my in-laws loved her, sure, but they were oblivious. They missed the subtle cues. They wouldn’t know how to navigate the delicate maze of a little girl’s heart. And if my husband eventually remarried, Lily’s position in the house would become painfully awkward. I spent countless sleepless nights agonizing over this until I made four rules for myself. One: In the limited time I had left, I would teach her how to survive independently. Two: Record as many videos as possible, answering every question she might ever have about life. Three: Leave her a safety net of money. Four: Write her one letter for every birthday until she turns eighteen. The plan was simple on paper. Executing it was pure agony. She was six. The concept of death was totally alien to her. All she would know is that one day, her mom vanished. She would never see me again. I would never hold her again. “I will be the biggest trauma of her childhood.” That thought physically suffocated me. It hurt far worse than the terminal diagnosis itself. 2 I opened a trust fund for Lily. I dumped every single penny of my life savings into it. Locked for ten years. By the time she turned sixteen, she would have total financial control over it. The house we lived in was already transferred to her name. When she grew up, she could sell it or live in it. Her choice. With the legalities out of the way, I pulled Lily out of all her after-school ballet and piano classes. The second the school bell rang, I took her out. Parks, amusement rides, indoor trampoline gyms. The kind of joy she used to have to earn through good grades was now served to her daily on a silver platter. While she played, I constantly adjusted the angle of my mirrorless camera, capturing every second. She was breathtakingly cute. Long lashes framing big, bright eyes, and those chubby, soft cheeks. Whenever she looked at me, I melted. Kids naturally gravitated toward her. But sometimes, the rowdier kids would relentlessly pinch her cheeks or snatch her toys. Even though I could tell she hated it, she stayed polite. The most she would do was hide behind a slide. Watching this from the sidelines made my stomach tie into knots. The very next day, the aimless fun stopped. I signed her up for a youth mixed martial arts and self-defense class. Combat sports are grueling. I had never once envisioned my sweet girl throwing punches. But if I wasn’t going to be around to teach her how to say no to boys in high school, she at least needed the physical ability to protect herself. The result? Lily spent two days just doing basic planking and combat stances. Before the real lessons even began, she broke down. Tears streamed down her face as she wailed that she was too tired and wanted to quit. I hardened my heart. I coldly refused her, forcing her to push through the burn. Feeling utterly betrayed, she threw a massive tantrum. I edited the footage and uploaded it to a brand-new social media account. I never expected the tsunami of vitriol that followed. [Throwing a little kid on the internet like this? This mom is sick in the head!] [The kid clearly hates it. The parents are forcing her just for clout. You don’t deserve to be a mother!] [At an age where she should be reading, she’s goofing off and making TikToks? Trash parenting.] [Selling out your own flesh and blood for likes. Disgusting.] 3 Before I hit upload, I reviewed the footage a dozen times to make sure it wouldn’t expose her to any real danger. But honestly, I understood the backlash. Because a few months ago, I was exactly like them. Grades above all else. As long as I was there to be her umbrella, she only needed to be a happy, innocent little girl. But my umbrella was breaking. In the wild, a mother wolf teaches her cub how to hunt before the winter comes. In my rapidly vanishing timeline, I needed to drill the most brutal, vital life lessons into her skull. And in the grand scheme of survival, getting an A in spelling was completely useless. I didn’t want her to be obedient. I didn’t want her to be sweet or well-mannered. I needed her to be brave. Resilient. Unbreakable. Without a mom, she had to learn how to fight, how to grab what was hers. She needed to become an apex predator to survive this vicious world. Besides MMA, I had to teach her how to cook. Food is survival. No matter how dark life gets, you have to feed yourself. You have to keep your body alive. Lily was barely taller than the stove. I bought her a heavy-duty toddler step stool. With every movement of the spatula, she would look back at me, her big eyes seeking permission. Only after I nodded encouragingly would she continue. Watching her tiny, tense frame gripping a kitchen knife on that stool. Thinking about all the massive, terrifying obstacles she would have to face alone in the future. It felt like someone was dragging a razor blade across my chest. If I had a choice, I would never rob her of her childhood. But fate didn’t give a damn about my choices. I had to be the villain. If the martial arts video sparked debates about parenting, the cooking video sparked a witch hunt. The comment section was a bloodbath. [Is this bitch pregnant with her second kid? Training the older sister to be a free nanny?] [If you can’t afford to raise them, don’t breed! Making a six-year-old cook? Are all the adults in that house dead?] 4 [I was forced to cook and do laundry for my whole family when I was her age. Trust me, what she posts is just the tip of the iceberg. Behind closed doors, it’s slave labor.] [Having a daughter is great, right? Free live-in maid.] [In the last video, the kid was happy she didn’t have to go to piano class. So she pulled her out of real education just to make her cook. Sick.] [This gives me the creeps.] [Some people really shouldn’t breed.] The video blew up. The account gained over a hundred thousand hate-followers in a week. My DMs were flooded with death threats. It got so big that even my own parents saw it. My mom called me, her voice laced with concern. “Are you and your husband just too overwhelmed with work? “Let Mom come over and take care of her, okay? Stop making the baby cook. “And she needs her extracurriculars. Kids these days are so competitive. You can’t let her fall behind.” Mothers will always ache for their daughters. Even though I was thirty-five and practically standing in my own grave. She still treated me like a child. The guilt made my throat tighten. I had never properly repaid her for raising me, and we used to bicker all the time. I was such a terrible daughter. “I just pushed her too hard before, Mom. I want her to breathe a little,” I lied smoothly. “Having a happy childhood matters too.” My words unexpectedly struck a nerve. My mom sighed, clearly thinking about my own childhood. “You’re right. Your dad and I were always working. We left you home alone every weekend. “And then we made you help raise your little brother. “We really failed you back then.” Parents always feel like they owe their kids. Like they never gave enough. My eyes burned. I felt a crushing weight of sorrow for my parents. Noticing my silence, my mom gently probed, “How about I come visit you guys in a couple of days?” Panic spiked through my veins. If she came, she would see the sickness radiating off me. She would know I was dying. 5 My mom was incredibly perceptive. If I said no, she would instantly know something was wrong. I forced a bubbly tone and agreed immediately. The second I hung up, my anxiety skyrocketed. I started pacing, trying to figure out how to hide my decaying body. It had been a week since the diagnosis. I hadn’t breathed a word to anyone. Not even my husband. Noah only found out I canceled Lily’s classes because he saw the videos. Coming home late from another grueling shift, he carefully chose his words. “Are we trying to turn our daughter into an influencer?” I shook my head. He looked even more confused. “Then why the sudden drop from ballet? “And taking her to the theme parks every day?” I thought he was mad. Before I could explain, his tone shifted into a whiny pout. “And you went without me! I wanted to go on the rollercoasters too. “Why do you only love her and not me?” A startled laugh ripped out of me, followed by a rush of tears. Ten years together. When we met, we were reckless, wild, and bursting with life. Now, he was grounded, steady, a real man. We had become the adults we always dreamed of being. And the way he looked at me hadn’t changed since college. I was still so madly in love with him. But this love only had a six-month expiration date. Looking at his face, all my walls crumbled. The tears wouldn’t stop. I had to tell him the truth. “Noah… I’m dying.” He froze. Just stood there, completely hollowed out. 6 At first, he thought it was a sick joke. But seeing the absolute despair in my tears, the certainty drained from his face. Muscle memory took over. He pulled me into his chest. He patted my back, slow and rhythmic, like he was soothing a nightmare. He waited until my shaking subsided before he found his voice. “No you’re not,” he whispered fiercely. “I’m right here. “I won’t let anything happen to you. “You’re just feeling sick, right? Then we’ll get you healthy. “Don’t worry about work, the mortgage, the kid. I’ve got it all.” His voice cracked. He was fighting back a sob. “Whatever it is, we fight it. We don’t give up. Deal?” I started crying all over again. Not out of self-pity. But because the thought of leaving him behind was tearing me to shreds. “It’s no use, Noah. It’s lung cancer,” I gasped against his shirt. “Stage four.” 7 Noah’s arms clamped around me like a vice. Like he was trying to physically fuse our bodies together so death couldn’t pull me away. A raw, choked sound escaped his throat. His voice was completely destroyed by shock and terror. “How is that even possible?” He was asking the exact question that had been haunting me. Why me? Why did this shadow have to fall over our perfect little house? “You’re young. You don’t smoke, you don’t drink. Why… how could it be lung cancer?” But his refusal to accept it was stronger than mine. “Don’t be scared, baby. Look at me. Don’t be scared. “I’ll call my frat brothers in med school. I’ll ask my boss. I’ll find the best oncologists on the planet. “We are going to beat this.” When the doctor handed me the papers, I had the same fleeting hope. But lung cancer is a silent killer. By the time you feel the symptoms, it’s already too late. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the whole truth. That the cancer cells had already metastasized to my sternum. That every single breath I took felt like crushed glass in my lungs. So I just nodded against his chest. “Okay. I won’t give up. We’ll fight.” But deep down, I knew we were just burning money and time. I reached up and gently traced the lines of Noah’s face. It was a habit from our dating years. Whenever my heart ached for him, or when I wanted to coax a smile out of him. I would nestle into his arms and map out his features with my fingertips. Usually, when I did this, even if we were mid-argument, he would inevitably break into a grin. He would catch my hand, tell me it tickled, and joke that I was taking advantage of him. But this time, he didn’t laugh. Hot, heavy tears spilled over my knuckles. 8 “Noah,” I whispered, my heart shattering. “I’m going to have to put you through hell.” He was going to have to drag me to hospitals. He was going to have to lie to our parents. He was going to have to juggle a demanding job and a terrified daughter. And later… after I was put in the ground. He was going to have to figure out how to keep living. Without me. I wanted him to forget me. To move on. To find someone new and start over. I wrote all of this down in a letter. I didn’t say it to his face. Because I knew I would choke on the words. Every time I thought about it, I wanted to scream. And in these final days, I refused to leave him with nothing but memories of my tears and bitterness. I wanted to be radiant. So that years from now, when my face crossed his mind, he would remember me smiling. I used to hate wearing makeup. Now, I painted my face every single morning. Just to cover the gray, dying tint of my skin. Noah practically went manic. He scoured the country for clinical trials, booked consultations with specialists, and stayed up until 3 AM reading medical journals. Every time he found a sliver of new information, he’d rush to tell me, his eyes wide with desperate hope. He refused to let a single door close. I played my part. I nodded enthusiastically, pretending I believed the treatments would work. Giving him a reason to keep breathing. We were both putting on the performance of a lifetime to keep the family in the dark. But paper can’t wrap a fire forever. Noah’s mom was the first to notice the cracks. 9 My in-laws were both retired teachers, so they had a lot of free time. Since they lived in the same subdivision, they dropped by constantly. My mother-in-law was a wizard in the kitchen. Her roast lamb was legendary. So tender, completely free of that gamey smell. It was our family’s favorite. One afternoon, she showed up with premium lamb chops fresh from the butcher. She was excitedly talking about making a hearty stew. But the moment she walked through the door and looked at me, her warm smile froze. Her eyes scanned my face like a scanner. “Sarah,” she asked, her voice tight with sudden dread. “Tell me the truth. Did something happen?” “What do you mean, Mom?” I forced a bright laugh. She grabbed my hands, staring dead into my eyes. Her own eyes rapidly filled with tears. “Why have you lost so much weight?” My mind went blank. She was a deeply kind woman who treated me like her own flesh and blood. If I told her my body was rotting from the inside out, it would break her. “Mom, I’m sorry,” I choked out, pivoting to an easier lie. “Work has just been crazy stressful. I haven’t been sleeping well. I didn’t mean to worry you.” Hearing it was just stress, she exhaled, her shoulders dropping in relief. Though her eyes still held pity. “You young people push yourselves too hard. It’s not your fault. “But you have to let things go. Health comes first, alright? We’ll get some meat on those bones.” I smiled and nodded. She smiled back, then immediately shifted gears to roast her own son. “What is wrong with Noah? His wife is this stressed out and he doesn’t even notice? “Just wait until he gets home, I’m going to chew him out.” She turned around and started aggressively prepping the vegetables. Watching her busy, loving silhouette by the sink made the guilt burn my throat. I softly asked her, “Pulling Lily out of her ballet classes and making her cook on camera… are you mad at me for that?”

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1 The day I miscarried and suffered a massive hemorrhage, my parents rushed to the hospital through a torrential downpour. They never made it. A truck T-boned their car halfway there. As I lay on the cold operating table, my hands, stained red with my own blood, shook violently as I signed their emergency surgery consent forms. In the end, I could not save my baby, and the doctors could not save my parents. The one person who should have been by my side, the man whose calls I had desperately tried to reach all night, was busy posting a celebration on his social media feed. Congratulations to Barnaby! A long night of hard work, and she is finally a mom. With what little strength I had left, I tapped the like button. Within seconds, my phone vibrated with a direct message from him. It was incredibly brief, containing just two words. Delete it. I sent him my real-time location at the hospital. Come here. I need to talk to you face-to-face. I have something important to take care of, so I cannot make it! If you need a prenatal checkup, ask your parents to go with you. It is not like they have anything else to do. Your so-called important business is delivering her dog’s puppies? Why does being pregnant turn you into such a jealous shrew? You are seriously jealous of a dog now? I did not have the energy to argue with him. Since he refused to show up, he could talk to my lawyer instead. … By the time I finished handling my parents’ final arrangements, it was late the following evening. I dragged my exhausted, aching body through the front door of our apartment. The place, which I always kept meticulously clean, was an absolute disaster. Gavin was bent over the coffee table, rummaging through drawers and tossing papers onto the floor. He did it with the practiced ease of a man who assumed someone else would always clean up after him. Hearing the door click, he did not even look up. His voice held a sharp edge of irritation. “Where the hell have you been all weekend? I had to order takeout for lunch.” I stood frozen. He had not come home last night either. For the past two years, this had been our life. When the lights in Tessa’s apartment flickered out, he would jump out of bed in the middle of the night to fix them. Yet he forgot to lock our own front door, allowing a drunk intruder to stumble into our living room, leaving me with nightmares for an entire month. When Tessa’s dog went into labor, he refused to accompany me to my checkup. He had even taken a week of paid leave to stay by her side, acting as if delivering puppies was a job for a chief surgeon rather than a veterinarian. Receiving no response, Gavin finally turned to look at me. His annoyance quickly gave way to a flicker of surprise. “You look incredibly pale. Is the baby acting up again?” I took a step back, dodging his hand as he reached toward my stomach. My voice was entirely flat. “I called you seventy-six times yesterday. Why did you not answer?” Gavin’s hand remained suspended in midair, his brow furrowing. “Ann, are you seriously cross-examining me right now?” He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Tessa and I grew up together. Barnaby is not just a pet to her; she has had that dog since she was a kid. Tessa was absolutely beside herself with worry, and I had to help with the delivery. In a life-and-death situation like that, how was I supposed to answer your pointless calls?” “It was just a routine checkup. Plenty of pregnant women go to those by themselves. Even if you could not handle it, your parents are always free. What difference does it make if I am not there?” Looking at his self-righteous expression, a bitter question formed in my throat. What about my parents? The crash had been horrific. My father had lost all signs of life before the ambulance even arrived. My mother made it to the operating room, but her injuries were incredibly severe and complex. Gavin’s colleague had pulled me aside, telling me that only Gavin, with his specialized expertise and knowledge of her medical history, could give her a fighting chance. Gavin had claimed he was too busy to pick up my calls. Yet the moment I liked his social media post, he had instantly messaged me to demand I undo it, terrified that Tessa might feel slighted. “Is she really just a childhood friend?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “Because I saw you kiss her, Gavin.” It had happened at the very restaurant where he proposed to me, in the exact same booth. Distracted by the sheer shock of it, I had stepped off the curb without seeing the speeding motorcycle. Although the rider braked in time, the sheer impact of hitting the pavement was enough to destroy the tiny, three-month-old life inside me. 2 Panic, rare and sudden, flickered in Gavin’s dark eyes. “Tessa was just so overwhelmed about Barnaby, so I took her out to get some fresh air. She had a few too many drinks, and…” His tone softened, taking on a placating warmth. “Alright, let us not dwell on this. I promise I will accompany you to your next appointment.” It was always the same routine. A flimsy excuse to brush off my pain, followed by a sweet promise to pretend nothing had ever happened. But Gavin, you will never have to go to another appointment with me. “Do not bother. Let us get a divorce.” Gavin stiffened, his face flushing with sudden anger. “Ann, is this just what you journalists do? Do you always have to sensationalize everything? I told you, it was a mistake. Do you really need to make a federal case out of this?” “Look at yourself. You are working a dead-end administrative desk job at the station. You are turning thirty, you are pregnant, and who else is going to want you if I leave?” “I work myself to the bone at the hospital every single day for this family. I do not come home to deal with your childish tantrums!” He grabbed his coat and stormed toward the door. As he reached the entryway, his eyes caught on a piece of paper sticking out of my purse. The words Death Certificate were printed in bold black ink. Gavin paused, confusion crossing his face. “Who died?” He reached down to pull the document from my bag, but before his fingers could touch it, his phone blared. Tessa’s frantic, sobbing voice filled the quiet hallway. “Gavin, one of the puppies is choking on milk! The shop is packed with customers, and I do not know what to do. Is it going to die? I am so scared…” Gavin’s posture instantly tensed with anxiety. “Do not cry, Tessa. I am on my way.” Without a backward glance, he threw open the door and rushed out, leaving the apartment quiet once more. He was in such a hurry that he forgot to lock his private study. Driven by a strange, hollow impulse, I walked into the room. My eyes immediately caught on something shoved under the desk leg to keep it level. Years ago, I had been the most promising rookie reporter at the network. I had been assigned to interview the notoriously stubborn, retired chief of medicine. After pulling several consecutive all-nighters to prep, my blood sugar plummeted, and I fainted in the hospital courtyard. Gavin was the one who found me. He had helped me up and told me that the old chief would never agree to an interview. As I hung my head in disappointment, he had slipped an orange candy into my hand, offering me a bright, boyish smile. “But I happen to admire people who take their work seriously. So, why don’t you interview me instead?” Only later did I discover he was the youngest, most brilliant medical professor in the city. Dozens of seasoned journalists had tried to land an interview with him, yet he had broken his own rules just for me. That was how our story began. Later, as our careers grew more demanding, Gavin had looked at me with deep concern. “Ann, I know becoming a chief correspondent is your dream. But my parents are getting older and need support. Could you consider stepping back? I promise I will cherish you for the rest of our lives.” I knew how much his own career meant to him. So, I compromised. I did not resign, but I transferred to a low-pressure administrative role just to keep a connection to the field I loved. During countless sleepless nights, I would sit under the desk lamp, tracing the edges of my press credentials. Whenever Gavin caught me, his face would fill with guilt, and he would hold me close, repeating his promises of a beautiful future. Yet now, that very press badge, the symbol of the career I had sacrificed for him, was being used as a piece of trash to prop up a wobbly desk leg. Using Tessa’s birthdate, I easily bypassed the lock on his safe. Sitting right at the top was a thick manila envelope. Inside were dozens of photographs of the two of them, embracing, kissing, walking hand-in-hand along a sunlit beach. There were also receipts. Gavin had funded her apartment, her pet shop, and her renovations. He had poured thousands of dollars into her business every month, quietly covering her constant losses. 3 Written across the front of the envelope in Gavin’s sharp, elegant handwriting was a single sentence. I will always fight to keep your dreams alive. I stared at those words for a long time. My mind flashed back over the last five years, years spent caring for his parents, cooking his meals, and scrubbing his floors. I remembered the quiet ache I felt whenever I saw my former colleagues working late, fueled by the thrill of a major story. A dry, hollow laugh escaped my lips. So, he did know how to support someone’s dreams. He just chose to support hers, not mine. I took photos of every document and placed them back exactly as I found them. My decision was finally clear. I dialed a familiar number. “Hi, Bernice. I heard the network is looking for a war correspondent to go to Central Asia, and no one has volunteered yet. If you are willing to take a chance on me, I would like to go.” There was a long pause on the other end before Bernice spoke, her voice thick with excitement. “Ann? Truly? I was devastated when you moved to administration. This is an incredible opportunity. It is highly dangerous, of course, but the experience will completely redefine your career when you return. Pack your bags. You will be leaving in a few days.” I hung up and began to pack. There was nothing in this apartment that belonged to me anymore, save for one thing: a soft, hand-knitted wool sweater my mother had finished just before she died. When I was a child, she had knitted all my clothes. As she grew older and her eyesight began to fail, I had begged her to stop, not wanting her to strain herself. But during my pregnancy, I had become highly sensitive to the cold. My mother had secretly stayed up late for weeks, her eyes bloodshot, waving off my concerns with a gentle smile. “Handmade things are always warmer, Ann. You love the baby in your belly, and I love my own baby girl.” I had cherished it so much that I had never even worn it. Yet as I searched the closet, the sweater was nowhere to be found. I was about to call Gavin when my phone chimed with a notification. Tessa had just posted a new update. The puppies were shivering after being born, and someone immediately rushed over with the perfect blanket! Thank you to the puppies’ proud godfather! Of course, my own sewing skills are pretty stellar too. Gavin had spent the day helping her celebrate the puppies’ survival. In the photo, their heads were pressed close together, smiling warmly at the camera. Each of them held three tiny puppies. And at a single glance, I recognized the fabric. The miniature dog coats the puppies were wearing had been cut from my mother’s hand-knitted sweater. My chest tightened as I pushed open the glass door of the pet boutique. Inside, Gavin and Tessa were laughing, sharing a slice of cake with the exact same spoon. Gavin was an extreme germaphobe. At home, his utensils had to be sterilized and kept separate, and he refused to eat family-style without serving spoons. Once, after a long day of cleaning, I had taken a sip from his water glass. He had said nothing at the time, but that evening, the glass was sitting in the trash. He had claimed it was a habit from working in sterile hospital environments. Clearly, those rules only applied to me. Seeing me enter, Tessa arched an eyebrow, her smile dripping with sweet malice. “Oh, Ann! You are here. Gavin and I have been sharing things since we were kids, so please do not mind us. See, Gavin? I told you she would never actually divorce you.” She leaned against the counter, sighing dramatically. “After all, a woman with no career who relies entirely on her husband… if she leaves you, how is she going to support herself, let alone her parents? Running all the way here just to check up on you, she really keeps you on a short leash. I guess I am just too proud. I would rather work hard and be a self-made woman.” Gavin pinched her cheek affectionately. “You are always the clever one, are you not?” Then, he turned to look at me, his expression softening into the patronizing look of a parent forgiving a difficult child. 4 “That is enough, Ann. Since you came all this way to make amends, I will pretend I never heard that nonsense about a divorce.” “Go on home and clean up the apartment. The puppies are still very fragile, so I need to stay here and help Tessa monitor them for a few more days.” Listening to them, a wave of disgust washed over me. One of them played the mistress with absolute pride, while the other painted his emotional infidelity as some noble duty. Ignoring Gavin, I looked directly at Tessa and let out a cold laugh. “Since you are so exceptionally capable, Miss Tessa, why does an independent, self-made woman resort to stealing another woman’s husband and her clothes? Is this ‘strong woman’ act just a cover for your career as a professional homewrecker?” A couple of female customers browsing near the registers turned to look at Tessa in shock. “Wait, you two aren’t married? But sharing a spoon like that… that is a bit inappropriate, is it not?” “Yeah, when I said you two looked like a beautiful couple earlier, you did not correct me. He actually has a wife?” Tessa’s face flushed a deep, angry red. Seeing her expression, the customers murmured in disgust, put down their items, and quickly walked out the door. Tessa’s eyes welled with tears as she turned to Gavin, her voice trembling. “Gavin, is she trying to ruin my business on purpose?” “I only used that sweater because it was warm and soft, perfect for the newborn puppies. She already spends so much of your money; she must have a closet full of clothes! Why does she have to slander me like this? Those were some of my best clients!” Gavin quickly wiped her tears, turning a furious glare in my direction. “Ann, I was the one who took the sweater. Why are you attacking Tessa? It is just a cheap piece of clothing. When did you become so incredibly petty?” “Besides, you are going to gain weight later in your pregnancy anyway, so you would not even fit into it. Just ask your mother to knit you another one. It is not some designer label; why are you acting like it is made of gold?” Looking at his arrogant, dismissive face, the last thread of my restraint snapped. I stepped forward and slapped him hard across the face. “Yes, my mother made it, so it is priceless! Because she can never knit another one for me again!” I screamed, my voice cracking with raw grief. “While you were playing family with your little childhood sweetheart, choosing to deliver her dog’s puppies instead of answering my desperate calls, my parents died!” Gavin’s eyes went wide. His hand dropped from Tessa’s shoulder. “What did you say? Your parents…” Before he could finish, Tessa lunged forward and shoved me hard. “How dare you hit him!” she shrieked. “It is just a stupid piece of fabric! Nobody wants your trash anyway, take it back!” She reached down, ripped the miniature coats off the puppies, and threw the shredded wool directly into a dirty litter box near the door. “And stop lying about your parents dying! I literally saw your mother and father at the supermarket this morning!” “I cannot stand parasites like you who use pregnancy to play the victim, making up horrible lies just to manipulate their husbands. You are an absolute embarrassment to women!” The litter box had not been cleaned yet. The clumps of soiled clay stuck to the delicate wool, instantly ruining my mother’s final gift. “I… I am sorry, I did not mean to…” the young shop assistant stammered, terrified by the raw fury in my eyes. A cold, burning hatred flooded my veins. I turned back to Tessa, raising my hand to strike the woman who had destroyed the last piece of my mother I had left. But before my hand could land, Gavin stepped in. A sharp, deafening crack echoed through the quiet boutique.

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01 My online boyfriend sent me a Miu Miu dress. By some stroke of bad luck, my mother accidentally put the package into my younger sister’s closet. The good news was that I had just discovered my online boyfriend was actually Austin, the boy I had secretly loved for three years. The bad news was that when my sister wore the dress, he mistook her for me and confessed his love to her. Just as I was about to type out an explanation to him, a cascade of glowing bullet comments drifted across my vision: This side character is so pathetic it is almost comical. Does she still not get it? He fell for her online persona, but he is a visual creature. If it were not for the sister’s gorgeous face, the male lead would have kept her as a virtual pen pal forever. Let her speak! Once she makes a fool of herself trying to explain, the male lead will realize he actually loves the real-life sister, not some text-based avatar! I deleted my half-written text and closed the chat window. … Under the warm glow of the streetlamp, the two of them looked like a picture-perfect couple. I tossed my phone into my desk drawer and forced my eyes back to the math formulas in front of me. But the numbers blurred together, and my mind kept drifting back to my sister, Violet, and Austin. They were saying their goodbyes downstairs. Austin stood under the light, his eyes tracking her figure until she safely crossed the threshold of our building. Outside my door, my mother was already teasing Violet, asking when they had started dating and why she had kept it a secret. She claimed she was not a conservative parent; as long as it did not affect her grades, she would not stand in their way. Violet covered her burning cheeks, her voice dropping to a soft, hushed tone as she glanced toward my room, worried she might disrupt my studying. “He really just confessed to me today! I was completely shocked too.” “He said he has been watching me for a long time, and he even praised how beautiful I looked in this dress!” She wrapped her arms around our mother’s shoulder, leaning in close. “Thank you for buying me this dress, Mom.” It was only then that my mother realized something was off. She had never bought Violet that dress. She had simply assumed Violet had purchased it with her own allowance. Violet blinked in confusion, her gaze instinctively turning toward my closed door. The bullet comments instantly erupted into a wave of adoration: Violet looks so adorable and guilty. My heart is melting. To be fair, that dress looks ten times better on Violet anyway! Do not feel bad, Violet! Once Austin is officially your boyfriend, he will buy you a dozen more, dressing you up like a real-life Barbie to show up that bitter sister. Violet quickly changed out of the dress. Despite her hair still being damp from the shower, she carefully hand-washed the garment, dried it, and folded it neatly. She even tried to drag our mother into my room to apologize to me. But my mother did not believe she had done anything wrong. “I cook and clean for you girls every single day, and now I am the one in the wrong?” my mother grumbled. “It was just a laundry mistake. We can just swap it back! Since when does a mother have to bow down and apologize to her own children?” But this was not the first time. It was never a simple mistake. Whenever a piece of clothing was new, expensive, or brightly colored, my mother would subconsciously place it in Violet’s closet. The worn, dark, or oversized hand-me-downs always found their way into mine. When I first received the package from Austin, I had been so terrified of this exact scenario that I did not even throw it into the shared laundry hamper. I had hand-washed it myself and hung it up on my personal balcony. Yet, when I woke up the next morning, the dress was gone. When I asked my mother about it, she scolded me for being disorganized and leaving my things lying around. I had sat at my desk, intending to message Austin to apologize and admit I had lost his gift, when his chat popped up first. His excitement practically radiated through the screen. I found you. I looked out the window. He was standing right in front of Violet, his smile incredibly tender. A moment later, the door to my room opened. Violet stood there, holding the neatly folded dress out to me. “I am so sorry, Sylvia. I did not know this was yours…” I cut her off quietly. “Just put it at the bottom of the wardrobe.” After all, I would never have the chance to wear it now. 02 The bullet comments flared up again, defensive of Violet: Why is she being so cold? Violet did not do it on purpose. But this time, a solitary voice spoke up for me: Let me put on some armor before I speak, but I have to be fair to the sister here. Violet might not have meant to, but her actions caused Austin to confess to the wrong person. Watching your three-year crush confess to your own sister is a nightmare for any teenage girl. It is completely normal that she cannot bring herself to smile. One by one, the lights in the house went out. The living room, our parents’ bedroom, and Violet’s room fell dark. Only after I clicked off my desk lamp did the darkness swallow me completely. The blue light of my phone screen reflected off the tears dampening my cheeks. Austin and I had met through an online film forum. He had posted a query: Can anyone help me find a movie? I only remember one scene set in a dimly lit library. The male lead is leaning against a bookshelf, reading a book. I had stumbled across the post during my lunch break and left a brief reply: It sounds like Love Letter by Shunji Iwai. When I reopened the app later, I found he had left dozen of thank-you messages and had even tried to send me a digital tip. I was quite active on the forum back then, using a profile picture of an apple and helping users identify obscure films for free. But Austin still sent me a private message, explaining that the movie was his late mother’s absolute favorite. He remembered her watching it repeatedly when he was a child, but he had never been able to recall the title. He insisted on finding a way to show his gratitude. Eventually, we exchanged contact details. I was a quiet, reserved person, but Austin’s warmth was like a constant sun. He quietly monitored every thread I commented on, occasionally sending me silly emojis of clumsy golden retrievers, joking about how he had tried to search for a film as fast as he could but was still a few seconds slower than me. He eventually noticed that my profile picture and username were both related to apples. He asked if it was my favorite fruit. My favorite artist is Shiina Ringo, I had replied. And Ringo means apple in Japanese. That was the first time I had initiated a personal detail. The moment I hit send, I flipped my phone face down on the desk, my heart racing. I wrote in my diary that night: Revealing your personal tastes to someone is far more terrifying than any spam pop-up. From the day he added me, his social media was completely open to me. He posted photos of his school crest, English test papers, and the view of the courtyard from his classroom window. It was far easier to identify him than any movie. I quickly matched his posts with the boy I had been quietly watching at school. The final confirmation came during a physical education class. Austin and a group of boys walked past my classroom window. One of his friends laughed and teased him: “Since when did you change your profile picture to Isaac Newton? Is that your secret to topping the physics exams?” Austin shoved him playfully, laughing. But as he passed my window, the cord of my white earphones slipped from my school uniform. His voice carried clearly through the open window, hitting me with absolute clarity. “I am just waiting for my apple to fall.” The thump of my own heartbeat drowned out the music playing in my ears. That night, I opened my social media to him and accepted his gift of the Miu Miu dress. There is a special screening at the archive cinema this weekend, he had written. If you are willing to go with me, wear this dress to school. I will find you. The next morning, a hand lightly tapped my shoulder. I turned around, but the moment the boy saw my face, his bright expression stiffened into awkward embarrassment. “Oh… sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Violet quickly stepped in, hooking her arm through mine with a bright laugh. “You silly boy, this is my older sister!” Watching their hands naturally clasp together, I forced a blank smile and quietly returned to my seat. Since reading those bullet comments, I had stopped replying to Austin’s messages. He had endless things to talk about with Violet at school, and he did not seem to notice my silence at all. Until one afternoon, Violet casually tossed an apple onto my desk. “Why are you and Austin both so obsessed with apples? It is such a boring fruit.” Austin, who was standing nearby, froze instantly. 03 Before he could ask me anything, a burly man with heavily tattooed arms stormed into our classroom, heading straight for my desk. “Are you Sylvia Carter? You are the one who scammed my money, right?” He claimed to be my online boyfriend, pulling out a tablet to display several explicit, highly inappropriate photos of a girl who looked exactly like me. He claimed I had sent them to him and had recently demanded a large bank transfer from him before agreeing to meet him at a hotel. I stared at the screen, my heart dropping. I did not even recognize this man. “That is not my account. You have been scammed.” But he refused to believe me, and the surrounding students began to murmur. “I cannot believe she is actually like this.” “She is the complete opposite of her sister. Having a sister like that must be so embarrassing.” My desperate protests of “It wasn’t me” were quickly drowned out by the rising tide of whispers. The man sneered, leaning over my desk. “Sylvia Carter, Class Two, Senior Year. How many Sylvias do you think there are in this school?” “Either you come to a hotel with me right now, or you return every single cent I spent on you!” As he reached out to grab my wrist, a hand suddenly shot out, intercepting him and shielding me behind a broad shoulder. It was Austin. The bullet comments reacted with sheer shock: Why is the male lead protecting her? Did he figure out she is the online friend because of the apple? If he actually falls for this side character, I am dropping this book. Here we go again, slandering female characters with zero proof. There is literally no evidence she actually did any of that. The homeroom teacher arrived quickly, and the police were called to escort the man out of the building. To minimize the disruption, the school administration asked Violet to contact our parents so I could be taken home for the afternoon. Austin walked with me to a bench in the quiet courtyard. Clutching my cold hands, I looked up at him, clinging to a desperate shred of hope. “Do you believe me?” He cracked open a bottle of apple juice and handed it to me. “Violet cares about you very much. For her sake, I will help you find the truth.” His help had nothing to do with me. It was merely an extension of his affection for my sister. 04 The investigation concluded far faster than I anticipated. Before my mother even arrived at the school, the female officer in charge of the case confirmed that the photos had been generated using AI. The identity registration of the scam account did not belong to me either. As for who had set up the account to trick the man, the police were still running diagnostics. “It is not your fault, Sylvia,” the officer said gently, patting my shoulder. “I will speak to your parents and your school administration. Your classmates will understand.” The bullet comments echoed her words, drowning out the negative remarks. But the moment my mother stepped into the office, she did not ask if I was alright. Instead, she raised her hand and delivered a stinging slap across my face. “You embarrassing brat! I knew you were up to no good, staring at your phone all day!” “I never told you that you could not date, but if you had met a decent boy like Austin, would I have ever stopped you? Instead, you go out and find this absolute garbage!” I should have stayed quiet. With a woman like my mother, silence was the only defense. If I kept quiet, she would eventually run out of steam. If I argued, she would only become more vicious. But the hollow ache in my chest had been building for too long. I could not stop the words from slipping out. “Did I go out of my way to find garbage, or do you honestly believe I only deserve garbage?” Why did she always put the expensive, beautiful clothes into Violet’s closet, leaving only the old, dull things for me? Why was her profile picture always a photo of just her and Violet? When I finally asked her about it, she had scolded me for being overly sensitive before changing it to a generic landscape. Why did she instantly assume Violet’s online match was a brilliant student like Austin, while mine must be some low-life criminal? “If you are so innocent, unlock your phone!” my mother barked, snatching the device from my hand. She quickly swiped her own birthdate into the lock screen. “Let us see exactly what kind of online friends you have been keeping!” Just as she was about to open my chat history with Austin, the office door flew open. Austin ran inside, breathing heavily. “We found the person who did it.” 05 In the quiet hallway, Austin slipped a cherry popsicle into my hand, nodding toward my swollen cheek. He had kept his promise to find the culprit. While the police were analyzing the digital footprints, Austin had noticed that some of the photos posted on the scammer’s social feed featured a background that matched the school’s art building. Focusing his search on the art and music classes, he had gathered the students and bluffed, claiming the police had already identified the owner of the IP address. “The administration is willing to give the person a chance,” he had told them. “If they confess now, we won’t pursue legal charges.” Terrified, a girl from the music department immediately stepped forward. She confessed that she had a grudge against Violet, but when she went looking for Violet’s personal details, she had accidentally copied my student profile instead. She figured that ruining the older sister’s reputation would destroy Violet’s standing just as effectively. Upon hearing this, Violet’s face flushed with anger. She lunged forward, intending to kick the girl, but Austin quickly held her back. “Let the teachers handle it, Violet. Do not get suspended over this.” Violet turned to our mother, her voice trembling with indignation. “Mom, you have to apologize to Sylvia. You hit her without even knowing the truth!” My mother shifted uncomfortably, her gaze darting around the room as she muttered defensive excuses. “I was just terrified for her!” “And besides, even if she did not do it this time, she is always staring at her phone. A young girl hanging around online is bound to meet some shady characters eventually.” Austin’s expression hardened. “Mrs. Carter, Violet and I met online too.” Violet looked up at him, a flicker of panic crossing her eyes. Yet, she did not speak up to correct him. This is so painful to watch, a bullet comment read. Violet has realized that Austin’s confession was meant for her sister. But she still hasn’t told him the truth. She is not returning him to Sylvia. Why should she? He is the male lead. And honestly, even if Sylvia reveals the truth, Austin will still choose Violet in the end. Want to bet? I reached into my pocket, unlocked my phone, and turned the screen toward the room. “Do you want to see my online boyfriend?” 06 “Your online boyfriend…” Violet whispered that night. “It was Austin, wasn’t it?” She had crept into my room with her pillow, lying down beside me as if she had not spent the afternoon pretending to have a sprained ankle to distract everyone from seeing my phone screen. Seeing my silence, she offered a small, bitter smile. “Do not look at me like that, Sylvia. It is Austin we are talking about.” “When a boy with those bright, adoring eyes looks at you like you are his entire world… anyone would want to steal a little bit of that magic, even if it does not belong to them.” She had known the truth since the day of his confession. The specific details and memories he had mentioned during his speech were things she had no recollection of. But because she liked him, she had continuously made up excuses to keep the illusion alive. She had claimed her old phone was broken, which was why she no longer used the ‘apple’ account, and she had pretended our entire family was obsessed with apples. She had resolved that if anyone else had been the owner of that account, she would never have let go of him. “But that person was you, my own sister.” I stared at her, unsure of what she was trying to achieve. Suddenly, my phone vibrated with a message from Austin. Can we meet outside the archive cinema tonight? There are some things I need to clear up. Violet sat up, as if she had anticipated this. She reached into her bag, pulling out the Miu Miu dress with one hand and her makeup bag with the other. “Go on, Cinderella,” she said softly. “Let me help you put things back where they belong before the clock strikes midnight.” The bullet comments were stunned: The classic plot of the sister stepping aside is actually happening. Violet has her own pride. She could never live a lie forever, pretending to be someone else just to keep a boy. Honestly, I am not sure which one he will choose now. “Do not worry, he will fall for you,” Violet whispered, applying a light coat of lip gloss to my lips. But as she leaned back, a flicker of sadness crossed her eyes. As we walked out, my phone kept chiming with notifications. Austin was going back through every single post and comment I had ever made on the forum, liking them one by one. The steady hum of the notifications sounded like the steady, nervous beat of a heart. I practically ran to the entrance of the cinema, a bright smile on my face, ready to explain everything. But before I could speak, Austin quietly interrupted me. “Thank you, Sylvia.” “But… I think I have my answer now.” He had not called me here to verify if I was his online partner. A boy as clever as Austin had noticed the discrepancies long ago. Violet’s confession had merely confirmed his suspicions. He had asked to meet me tonight to answer a single question: If I had been the one standing under the streetlamp that night, would his heart have beat the same way? Seeing me in the dress, he realized the spark simply was not there. He pulled out his phone and transferred five thousand dollars to my account. “I am truly sorry for taking up so much of your time. I hope we can still be friends.” He looked at the Miu Miu dress, his voice dropping. “But… I would appreciate it if you did not wear that dress again.” “It looks beautiful on you. But I want the memory of that dress to belong only to Violet.”

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1 I was scrolling through a community help forum while slacking off at work when a particular post caught my eye. My female subordinate keeps hitting on me. Should I fire her? As I read through the post, the description of the subordinate’s outfit and her daily routine started to look suspiciously familiar. The next day, I wore my standard office uniform: a simple white button-down shirt and a navy blue skirt. Sure enough, the forum thread updated shortly after. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today. Attached to the post was a stock photo of the exact outfit combination I was currently wearing. The commenters were thoroughly confused, but I was completely floored. … I stared at the stock photo in disbelief. This was indeed my exact outfit for the day. Curious, I clicked on his profile and began scrolling through his history from the very beginning. His earliest posts were highly professional, filled with standard business advice, market analyses, and stock trading tips. I could barely understand most of it. But then, starting from a certain date, the tone of his posts shifted. There is a girl at the office. Her eyes sparkle, and she always flashes me the brightest smiles. All the other employees avoid me like the plague. What does this mean? The commenters immediately replied: She obviously likes you. He responded: Our company has a strict policy against office romance. The commenters asked: Well, do you like her? He replied: What is there to like? A true professional keeps his mind on his work, not on women! A commenter joked: Ah, a career-oriented guy. Pack it up, everyone. But things only got stranger from there. The financial trading posts began to dwindle, replaced by frequent updates about his female subordinate. Yesterday’s help thread had already surpassed five thousand upvotes and racked up a four-digit comment section. My female subordinate keeps provoking me, ruining my productivity. What should I do? The commenters, always eager for drama, egged him on: Just fire her. He replied: I am a man of principle. I cannot fire people without cause. How exactly is she provoking you? Give us the details. In response, he wrote a incredibly long, detailed explanation. Every Monday during our weekly meeting, she dresses incredibly sexy and stares at me with sparkling eyes while presenting. I once mentioned that I minored in creative writing in college. She happens to be a popular writer on Reddit. My Reddit username is EndlessSummer. Her corporate Slack handle is Jellybean. A commenter expressed their confusion: I let everything else slide, but what on earth do EndlessSummer and Jellybean have in common? He replied almost instantly: Jellybeans are sweet and colorful, just like summer days! If she likes jellybeans, she likes sweet summer days, which means she likes Endless Summer, which means she likes me! It is a blindingly obvious hint! Another commenter wrote back: Right… crystal clear. This was when the truth finally hit me. The female subordinate was me. My Slack handle was indeed Jellybean, simply because I loved eating jellybeans. But I never paid attention to my colleagues’ personal social media usernames, and I had no idea who EndlessSummer was. My day job was a corporate wage slave, and my side gig was writing fiction online. That was a known fact around the office, but I never shared my pen names, nor did I care about anyone else’s. 2 The forum commenters were quite blunt. OP, what do you mean she is provoking you? You are clearly projecting. Exactly, those two usernames have absolutely no connection. This is hilarious. OP has already scripted a three-hundred-episode romance drama in his head while the girl is still in the opening credits. The poster was not pleased. Then why does she try so hard to show off in front of me during every single meeting? A commenter wrote back: Is there a slight chance she just wants a promotion and a raise? I took a slow sip of my coffee in the breakroom, trying to figure out who this poster could possibly be. But to be safe, I needed to confirm if this “sexy” subordinate was indeed me. The next day, I wore a basic white button-down and a blue pencil skirt. It was not a Monday, so there was no weekly meeting scheduled. However, my direct supervisor, Gabe, suddenly called an emergency catch-up meeting. Right after the meeting concluded, the forum post updated. This woman is a master of seduction. Look how sexy she dressed today! I logged into my throwaway account with a default avatar and left a reply: How sexy? Post a picture. Within an hour, my comment gathered over a thousand upvotes, surpassing the engagement of the original post. Eager to prove his point to the skeptical crowd, the poster quickly uploaded a stock photo of a white shirt and a blue pencil skirt. The comment section was instantly flooded with question marks. The poster defended himself: You guys do not understand. To see me today, she even wore THAT!! I quickly replied: What is ‘that’? Other commenters followed up: Now I am curious. What is it? Isn’t this the most basic office wear? How is this sexy? Honestly, it looks a bit plain. I don’t get OP. Losing his patience, the poster finally replied: Stockings! I am a total leg guy. She wore sheer stockings on purpose to show off her long, slim legs. Plus, she has a tiny daphne flower tattoo right on her ankle. It is incredibly sexy! Mystery solved. The subordinate was definitely me. My name is Daphne, and my ankle tattoo is indeed a daphne flower. The comment section erupted in amusement: Can anyone else relate to holding in their laughter in the office until their face cramps? This poster is absolutely obsessed with his subordinate. Definitely sharing this thread with my friends. This is gold. The poster panicked. Forget it, I cannot explain it to you guys online. I do not like her, alright? My sole focus right now is my career. A commenter left a biting reply: Even after he is cremated, his mouth will probably remain intact. 3 I had two direct supervisors in my department. The first was Marcus, our operations manager. He was married, so I ruled him out immediately. The second was Gabe, our department head. He was single, hilarious, and highly energetic. He was a very likely candidate. Technically, there was also our CEO, Alistair Wiley. While he was drop-dead gorgeous, he was also a ruthless, ice-cold workaholic. Rumors said he had absolutely no interest in romance, living only for the company’s profit. The probability of him being the poster was practically zero. By process of elimination, Gabe was the prime suspect. To confirm my theory, I sent a direct message to the poster using my throwaway account: Do you work at Synapse Tech? He replied almost instantly: How did you know? I looked up from my desk. Gabe was currently standing by the printer, humming a tune and completely focused on his documents. His phone was sitting untouched on his desk. If it was not Gabe… was it Alistair? The terrifying thought took root in my mind, and I could not shake it off. Regardless of how unlikely it seemed, I had to rule him out. 4 I had to take a quick shot of whiskey in the breakroom just to build up the courage to knock on Alistair’s office door. When I entered, Alistair was wearing gold-rimmed glasses, reviewing a file. The evening sun cast a warm, golden glow on his sharp profile. He had a prominent brow, a high bridge, and features that looked perfectly sculpted. The air in the room carried a cold scent of cedarwood and expensive leather. It suited him perfectly: elegant, distant, and incredibly expensive. Seeing me enter, he raised his eyes. They were deep, dark, and completely devoid of warmth. Under his steady gaze, I immediately regretted my decision. How could a man like Alistair ever post such nonsense on an online forum? “What is it?” his deep, steady voice asked. His presence was incredibly commanding. Standing alone in his office, my palms began to sweat from sheer nervousness, but I forced a polite, professional smile anyway. “It is… well, we are organizing an upcoming industry panel, and we would love to invite you to participate if your schedule allows.” He held out his hand. “Let me see the proposal.” Alistair turned the pages of the file with absolute focus. His long, elegant fingers looked like sculpted marble, and his expensive watch glinted in the light. Those hands looked incredibly familiar. I had seen them in one of the photos on the forum account. “Mr. Wiley, what is your forum username? I need to note it down for the guest list.” He glanced at me, remaining silent as he unlocked his tablet and opened the forum app. I leaned in slightly, holding my breath as I waited for his screen to load. When the profile page opened, the username displayed was simply Alistair Wiley. It was not EndlessSummer. The office was incredibly quiet. Because I had leaned in too close, a strand of my hair accidentally brushed against the back of his hand. “I… I am so sorry, Mr. Wiley,” I stammered, quickly backing away. Alistair’s thin lips pressed into a tight line, his entire body stiffening. He looked completely repulsed by my touch. I was definitely crazy to have ever suspected him. 5 My knees felt weak as I walked out of his office. Although the encounter had been terrifying, I had successfully ruled him out. But as I sat back down at my desk, the forum thread updated again. Situation update! You guys still claim she doesn’t like me? She just came to my office to flirt again! She reported on some completely irrelevant event, then ‘accidentally’ let her hair brush against my hand on purpose. This woman has too many tricks up her sleeve. My jaw dropped. This could not be a coincidence. The poster was Alistair Wiley. He actually believed I was trying to seduce him. Wait… does this mean he is interested in me? I shook my head vigorously, trying to clear the ridiculous thought from my mind. There was no way this workaholic capitalist was into me. He was notoriously demanding, both of his employees and himself. During the year the company went public, he had arrived at the office at four in the morning and left at midnight every single day. Even the security guards could not keep up with his schedule. People joked that if Alistair ever wanted to date, he would have to schedule it during his meals, because he could not afford to lose any more sleep. I cautiously peeked through the glass partition of his office. He was still working diligently, his expression stern, his phone sitting facedown on his desk. But the timing of the posts was too perfect. Whether he admitted it or not, I decided to put him to the test. Since he claimed he had no interest in this subordinate, I was going to have some fun. 6 I continued to bait him using my throwaway account in the comment section: I bet OP is some old, unattractive creep projecting his fantasies onto his poor subordinate. The other commenters quickly joined in: Yeah, she is just trying to do her job, and her greasy boss thinks she is trying to seduce him. This is a real-life horror story for the employee. The tone of the comment section shifted rapidly, with everyone attacking the poster’s appearance. The poster tried to defend himself: I am six-foot-two, have an eight-pack, and am highly attractive. Countless women chase me. The commenters laughed: Sure, on the internet, everyone is a six-foot-two billionaire. You are probably a keyboard warrior in real life. As the insults piled up, I sent him a private message: Do you want to prove them wrong? He replied quickly: How? Post one of those trending transition videos. Show off your physique. That will shut them up instantly. He went silent, and his profile did not update for hours. But the comment section kept growing more hostile. I scrolled through the thread, upvoting the criticisms until I was half-asleep. Just as my eyes were closing, a new post appeared on his profile. It was a video. 7 The video started in dim lighting, showing a tall, commanding silhouette. Then, a sharp, metallic sound cut through the silence. The scene cut. The lighting shifted. A warm back-light flared, framing his body perfectly. His face was hidden, but the camera started from his sculpted jaw, slid down his prominent Adam’s apple, and passed over his collarbones. He was holding two prop glowing swords, his chest muscles defined, broad, and perfectly toned. Under the shifting light, a small, dark mole on his left collarbone was faintly visible. The sheer tension and raw sex appeal are off the charts. The phone slipped from my hand, clattering onto the floor. The video ended, looping back to a black screen. I sat frozen in bed, completely stunned by the visual. The comment section erupted in chaos. Oh my god! With a body and vibe like that, you are telling me he is a greasy creep? I apologize for my previous comments, OP. Are you looking for a personal assistant? This is absolute perfection. Some of the comments were incredibly forward. I buried my face in my pillow to stifle my laughter, terrified of waking my parents in the next room. But one particular comment caught my attention: The mole on his left collarbone is incredibly attractive. Who grows a mole right there? It is practically bait. A plan began to form in my mind. If I could get a look at Alistair’s left collarbone, I could confirm my suspicions once and for all. I just needed to find that mole.

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Trapped in a gilded cage by Timmy, I eventually gave birth to his child. Consumed by the humiliation of how we started, I kept both of them at an icy distance. That was, until the floating text suddenly appeared in my vision. [If she keeps freezing him out like this, the male lead’s patience is going to snap.] [She has no idea her son secretly cries every single day. It breaks my heart.] [Timmy has the restraint of a saint. Tasted heaven exactly once and got banished to the couch for years. Bro is probably wearing out her old shirts just trying to cope.] [It happens tonight. He brings her warm milk again, she knocks it over, and instead of coaxing her, he finally decides to file for divorce.] [And after the divorce, she gets thrown to the wolves and meets a brutal end.] A soft knock echoed through the room. I practically jogged over to the door. Timmy stood there with a glass of warm milk. He lowered his dark eyes, a cynical smirk playing on his lips. “Going to throw this all over my shirt again?” I shook my head and gently curled my fingers around the fabric of his sleeve. “There’s a thunderstorm tonight. Can you stay with me?” Then I tilted my head, looking at the tiny figure peeking out from behind his long legs. “Finn, do you want to sleep in the big bed with Mom and Dad tonight?” 01 “What?” The freezing chill in Timmy’s eyes melted for a fraction of a second. But the flash of joy vanished just as quickly, replaced by a guarded, flat tone. “Are you testing me, Aria?” He thought I was using a moment of fake docility to make him lower his guard. He thought I wanted him to get bored of me so he would finally let me go. I pressed my lips together, entirely unsure of how to answer. I fully expected him to pull his arm away. But he just stood there, frozen in place, letting me hold onto him. “So,” I murmured softly. “Are you going to stay?” Timmy’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His dark, heavy gaze locked onto mine. It was a thick, burning kind of stare that made my knees feel dangerously weak. I had always been terrified of him when he looked at me like that. It always felt like he was one second away from devouring me whole. The corner of his mouth twitched. “Are you sure you want this?” With the glowing comments scrolling frantically across my vision, I nodded. I kept my hand on his and drank the entire glass of warm milk right there. [Is it a bit too late for her to start playing nice?] [Three years of the silent treatment. Whatever love he had for her is probably completely dead by now.] [Just wait. Once he divorces her, her own biological father is going to sell her off to some sixty-year-old creep just to secure business deals for the adopted daughter.] [If she had just treated him an ounce better, she wouldn’t have been tortured to death in the end.] [Honestly, yeah, he’s a bit of an obsessive psycho with a serious addiction to her, but the man is young and built like a god. If she had just embraced it earlier, she would have been eating five-star meals every night.] [LMAO, if you ever feel stressed, just take a look at little Finn’s face right now.] I looked down, unable to help myself. A tiny, soft hand suddenly wrapped around my wrist. “Mommy, can I really sleep with you?” I had to admit, Timmy’s genes were absolute top-tier. Finn looked like a pocket-sized version of him, just with softer, squishier cheeks. He tipped his head back, his big eyes shining with pure, desperate hope. It took me a second to process it, and I let out a soft “Mhm.” His eyes went wide like he had just witnessed a miracle. “Mommy, can you bend down a little bit?” he whispered. I leaned over. His little face turned bright red. Shyly, he reached up, wrapped his little arms around my neck, and pressed a wet, clumsy kiss to my cheek. Then he looked up at Timmy. “Dad, is it Christmas early this year?” Timmy did not answer. He was just staring down at my lips, his eyes growing shades darker. [She has a tiny bit of milk on her lip. I will not elaborate on what is going through that man’s head right now.] [The tension is literally exploding.] [Pink.] [If she just made one single move, her husband would be on her like a shadow.] [A delicious shadow.] [Bro is dominating the ‘silent suffering’ leaderboard. Give the man a trophy.] [He’s putting the whole obsessive-romance genre to shame.] [Aria Sinclair, you invited him to bed. Do not let this man leave empty-handed.] [I have no idea what timeline we are in right now, but I am grabbing my popcorn out of pure respect.] 02 I was entirely too used to sleeping alone. Having two extra bodies in my bed tonight felt completely foreign. The moment Finn climbed under the covers, he latched onto me like a koala. If I even tried to turn my head away, his little hands would reach up and physically turn my face back toward him. “Mommy, face this way.” He was a chatterbox. He babbled about a dozen random things, but the moment he closed his eyes, he was out cold. My arm was starting to fall asleep. As I carefully tried to pull it out from under him, my hand accidentally brushed against Timmy’s cheek. He let out a low, muffled groan. His eyes locked onto mine. The bedroom was dimly lit by a soft amber lamp, but I could still clearly see the tips of his ears burning bright red. “Are you…” He looked away instantly. “I’m fine.” But his voice sounded impossibly tight. I honestly had no idea what was wrong with him. [What do you think is wrong? Bro just caught a whiff of your perfume and is fighting for his life right now.] [Take a wild guess why he refuses to divorce you even though you treat him like ice.] [Because he is literally addicted to you. Duh.] I swallowed hard. My face flushed hot as the absolute filth scrolling across the comments hit me. But Timmy and I had only been together that one single time. Did he really think about me like that? Especially since that one time had felt like nothing but a humiliating trap to me. I hated thinking about it. I quickly pulled my hand back, intending to roll over and face the wall. But I did not realize a strand of my hair had gotten tangled around the button of Finn’s pajamas. As I turned, my scalp pulled sharply. I have thick, wavy hair, and it was knotted tight. The more I fumbled with it, the more Finn started to whine in his sleep. “Don’t move.” Timmy’s voice came out rough and completely shot. A large, warm hand slid into my hair. I flinched on pure instinct. He noticed. The warmth drained out of his voice, leaving it flat. “I’m not going to touch you.” The moment the words left his mouth, my hair fell free. We had nowhere else to look but at each other. I could see it. I could clearly see the dark, suffocating wave of desire churning in his eyes. A wave of nausea twisted in my stomach. [Here she goes again, she’s going to call him disgusting, isn’t she? No matter how much he loves her, a man can only take so many daggers to the chest before he breaks.] [Aria, have a heart. Aside from that one night, has he ever laid a finger on you in the last three years? You have no idea how brutal the real world is going to be if you actually leave him.] I dug my nails into my palms, swallowing down the discomfort with everything I had. I looked at him and stammered out, “Thank… thank you.” Timmy froze. The darkness in his eyes shifted into pure shock. But then he suddenly threw off the blanket and practically bolted for the en-suite bathroom. “Go to sleep.” [We all know exactly what he’s doing in there. It took me zero seconds to figure it out.] [Taking matters into his own hands, literally.] [The bathroom smells just like her. Bro’s blood pressure must be through the roof.] [A Michelin-star feast right there.] [Girl, do us a favor and give the man something. We are starving out here.] [Can you guys chill? The fact that she initiated anything tonight is already a massive plot twist.] [True, but let’s be real. Their first time was a massive misunderstanding anyway.] I read the floating text slowly. My mind drifted back into the past. 03 Before Timmy forcefully dragged me to the altar, we had been dating online for a year. That was right around the time I found out I was the biological daughter of a wealthy family, swapped at birth by a malicious nanny. I had lived in an orphanage for over twenty years. I genuinely thought going back to my biological family meant I would finally experience what it was like to be loved. But my parents heavily favored Stella, the adopted daughter who had taken my place. During those dark months, Timmy was the only person I opened up to. When we finally met in person, he was incredibly gentle, wearing a tailored suit, polite and perfect. I thought he was a good man. But once we became official, his suffocating, obsessive need to control everything around me made it hard to breathe. I carefully suggested we take a break. He smiled and agreed, but I constantly felt like there was a pair of eyes watching me from the shadows. Then came the day I accidentally stumbled into his basement. An entire wall was plastered with candid photos of me. Next to it was a collection of bizarre, terrifying items. The online romance had never been a coincidence. It was a calculated hunt. I demanded a breakup. He just laughed, a hollow, broken sound. “Break up? I think I’d rather just die.” I was terrified. So terrified that during my graduation party, I drank a spiked glass of wine in a daze. I was carried to a hotel room. His room. It was a night of absolute madness. When I woke up and realized what happened, I slapped him as hard as I could across the face. He did not even flinch. He just reached up, gently wiping my tears away with his thumb. “Did that hurt your hand?” “Do you want to hit the other side?” “Keep hitting me until you aren’t angry anymore.” When I finally broke down and ran out of the room, a swarm of paparazzi was waiting in the hallway. My reputation was completely destroyed overnight. My parents looked at me with pure disgust. They immediately started arranging blind dates for me to salvage their public image. When Timmy found out, he used the security footage from the hallway to force my parents’ hand. We were married a week later. I spent years believing every single tragedy in my life was a trap he had carefully orchestrated. I treated him like dirt. A few months into the marriage, I found out I was pregnant. I did not want the baby. Timmy dropped to his knees in front of me. He pulled out a pocket knife and dragged it across his own wrist, drawing a bright line of crimson. “You don’t want him, and you don’t want me. Fine. Then neither of us will ever bother you again.” I hated him. I wanted him gone. But seeing the blood dripping onto the carpet, I was paralyzed with fear. I hated my own cowardice. After I gave birth to Finn, I refused to hold him. I just wanted to freeze Timmy out until he finally got tired of me and let me go. But the comments were telling me that leaving him meant I was going to die a miserable death. And they kept mentioning a misunderstanding. What misunderstanding? My thoughts swirled in the dark until exhaustion finally pulled me under. I did not even hear when Timmy finally came back to bed. 04 When I woke up the next morning, the space next to me was empty. I let out a breath of relief, but then nearly jumped out of my skin when a tiny face suddenly appeared inches from mine. “Mommy, you’re awake!” Finn was standing beside the bed, dressed in his crisp little kindergarten uniform. He looked exactly like a pristine little prince. Even though I had spent years treating him like a ghost, he still seemed completely obsessed with me. [Here it is, the daily morning routine. She pretends to be asleep, and the kid gets his heart broken.] [Finn is such an angel. His mom literally ignores his existence, and he still follows her around like a puppy.] [Ugh, my heart hurts so much. What did this sweet boy ever do to deserve this?] “Morning, Mommy. Can I give you a kiss before I go to school?” I was still half-asleep and entirely disoriented. “What?” “The kids on Bluey give their mommy kisses every morning. I want to do it too.” My stomach tied itself into a knot. We rarely ever spoke, let alone touched. I had a massive mental block when it came to physical affection. As I bit my lip, hesitating, my eyes flicked to the doorway. Timmy was standing right there. A flash of the comments predicting my brutal death crossed my mind. Seeing my silence, Finn dropped his head. The corners of his mouth turned down. But he forced a brave little smile a second later. “It’s okay, Mommy. I didn’t really want to—” “How… where do you want to kiss?” I stammered, cutting him off. Finn’s eyes lit up like fireworks. “Mommy, you mean yes?!” He grabbed my hand, swinging it back and forth, his eyes curving into little crescents. I nodded, feeling incredibly awkward. [Woah wait, is the Ice Queen actually thawing?] [Look at Timmy’s face right now. Bro’s brain is completely short-circuiting. He’s malfunctioning.] [He definitely wants a kiss from his wife too.] I did not dare look at Timmy. The tiny human had already scrambled up and pressed a loud smack against my cheek. I froze solid. It felt strange. But… I did not push him away. Finn wrapped his arms around my neck and nuzzled my shoulder. “Mommy, am I dreaming?” […Why am I crying right now?] [The way he nuzzled her. My chest physically hurts.] [Timmy standing in the doorway like: Hello, I am also a toddler, I require a kiss.] [Look at him. He’s practically turning into stone waiting for her to notice him.] I instinctively glanced up at the doorway. Timmy didn’t say a word. He just narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression completely unreadable. I quickly looked away, pretending I hadn’t seen a thing. Finn finally let go of me and happily skipped toward the door. “Dad! I kissed Mommy again!” Timmy let out a low “Mhm” and reached out to affectionately ruffle Finn’s hair. “Dad’s taking you to school today.” Finn, with his little backpack securely on, looked back at me with absolute puppy-dog eyes. “I wish Mommy could take me.” “Be good. Mom needs to rest. Don’t bother her.” “Dad, why don’t you go kiss Mommy too?” I leaned back against the headboard, my heart suddenly leaping into my throat. Timmy lowered his eyes. “We’re going to be late. Say bye to Mom.” “Aww, okay! I’ll wake up earlier tomorrow to kiss Mommy again!” Finn scrunched his face in determination before waving frantically at me. “Bye, Mommy! I’m going to school now! I promise I’ll be super good!” The floating text exploded again. [Weird. Didn’t she want to run away? Why is she suddenly playing house?] [Hey… this is a good thing, right?] [The teacher gave the kids an assignment yesterday. The moms are supposed to supervise the kids learning how to shower by themselves. That’s why he snuck into her room last night.] [Thinking about him having to stand in front of the class and admit he didn’t do the homework because his mom hates him… I’m going to cry.] [Aria, since you’re already acting like a decent human today, can you just stand by the bathroom door tonight and help him out?] 05 I don’t know what Timmy said to Finn on the way to school, but when Finn got home, he was incredibly quiet. He didn’t come looking for me. He didn’t ask me to play. The comments were relentless. [Forget it. Once they divorce and Timmy marries Stella, Finn will finally get a mom who cares about him.] [Lmao, who would even believe that a billionaire like Timmy has been entirely celibate for years?] [Bro is basically guarding his purity for her. Thank god she refused to sleep with him, right?] [Stella might be a manipulative snake, but sometimes the villain gets the bag! Let’s go!] I was finally starting to piece everything together. In this timeline, the “main character” was Stella. Even though I was the biological daughter, she was the one destined to win everything. Half the comments were tearing me apart for being pretentious and difficult. But a few people were actually making sense. [The original plot was garbage anyway. The adopted daughter steals her family, her husband, and her kid, and we’re supposed to cheer for her? The morals are entirely messed up.] [The biological daughter died horribly just to pave the way for a fraud.] [If it were me, I’d never let them win. Do not sign those papers, Aria! Let them suffer!] I took a deep breath, stood up, and walked toward the bathroom. Finn was standing precariously on a plastic step stool, stretching as hard as he could to reach the showerhead. Hearing my footsteps, he whipped his head around. “Mommy?” I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms defensively. “Do… do you need some help?” He froze for two whole seconds, his face turning a brilliant shade of crimson. “You know about my homework, Mommy?” “Yeah.” “Oh!” “I can do it by myself, Mommy! I’m a big boy!” He tried three more times, nearly slipping. I hesitated for a second before walking in, pulling the showerhead down, and handing it to him. “Thank you, Mommy!” [Yesterday she wouldn’t even look at them, today she’s giving kisses and helping with bath time. Did she get possessed?] [Timmy is currently having an existential crisis.] From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of a tall figure standing just outside the door, holding a fluffy towel. “Mommy, look at me!” Finn suddenly spun around, his hair entirely covered in a mountain of soap bubbles. He vigorously scrubbed his head, wiggling his little hips. In the process, his foot kicked the showerhead on the floor. A jet of warm water shot straight up, completely soaking my blouse. “Ahhh! I’m sorry, Mommy!” He panicked, reaching out to try and wipe the water off me, but ended up smearing a massive handful of soap directly onto my shoulder. [Finn, on behalf of your father, thank you for your service.] [Timmy doesn’t have to hug her laundry to sleep tonight.] [Direct hit. Zero patience left.] I quickly turned my body, trying to angle myself away from the doorway where Timmy was standing. I gently caught Finn’s chaotic little hands. “It’s fine, I’ll rinse you off.” I heard footsteps behind me. For some reason, my entire body went rigid. But he didn’t step into the bathroom. He just leaned against the vanity outside, silently watching us. Only when the water turned off did Timmy walk in. He scooped up the dripping-wet toddler, expertly wrapping him in the towel and drying him off. He helped Finn brush his teeth and apply his baby lotion. He moved with absolute effortless precision. It hit me then—he was the one who had been raising this child entirely by himself all these years. “I’ll have the nanny put him to bed.” The nanny was waiting in the hallway. She took Finn from his arms. Finn looked over the nanny’s shoulder, staring at me with pure longing. Timmy’s eyes darkened in annoyance, and Finn looked away, defeated. “Okay, I’ll just…” I knew exactly what he wanted. I walked over, leaned in, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. The little guy went completely still against the nanny’s shoulder, his eyes going impossibly wide. He slapped both hands over his face, looking like he was about to pass out from sheer joy. Right before they turned the corner, he waved frantically. “Goodnight, Mommy! I’m so happy today! Super, super happy!” 06 The door clicked shut. The bedroom descended into total silence. I looked down at my soaked shirt. The thin fabric was clinging to my skin like a second layer. I crossed my arms, feeling my face heat up. When I looked up, I crashed straight into Timmy’s dark, predatory stare. [To Timmy right now, she is a literal succubus.] [Imagine being touch-starved for years, and the woman who hates you is standing right in front of you looking like that. Give the man some grace.] [Zero patience. He’s going in.] My cheeks were burning. I took a clumsy step backward. “I… I need to go change.” The moment I turned, my foot hit a wet patch of tile. Before the scream could even leave my throat, a solid arm wrapped around me, pulling me hard against a chest. A scorching hot hand clamped tightly around my waist. [Look at the size of that hand. The tension is lethal.] [She’s going to shove him away again, isn’t she?] [Last month he accidentally brushed her hand passing the salt, and she threw a glass of water at the wall.] [Welp, back to the couch he goes. Stella is definitely winning this war.] Maybe the comments were distracting me. Or maybe I was just frozen. But I forgot to push him away. By the time my brain caught up, Timmy had already scooped me up into his arms and was carrying me toward the bed. “You’re drenched.” I turned my head away, unable to look at him. My voice came out like a whisper. “There’s something… hard in your pocket. It’s pressing into me.” The temperature in the room plummeted. I felt his breathing hitch. The muscles in his arms turned to absolute granite. [Bro is wearing sweatpants. What pocket? What belt?] [Oh honey, she knows exactly what that is.] [Let me spell it out for the innocent folks in the back: The man is fully bricked up.] [God, the ‘restrained obsessive’ trope is peak fiction. When they finally snap, it is glorious.] [Do it.] A second later, Timmy grabbed my hand and physically dragged it downward, pressing my palm flat against the heat. Then, before I could process the shock, he pulled the heavy duvet over me, trapping me underneath. “I’ll go find you some dry clothes.” Just as he turned to leave, my hand shot out from under the covers and grabbed his wrist. “Don’t go.” He raised an eyebrow. I forced myself to meet his eyes. “I want to talk to you.” 07 I needed to ask him. I needed to know if he was really the one who spiked my drink that night. I needed to know what the comments meant by “misunderstanding.” Timmy stared down at my face, looking like he had just been electrocuted. Up until today, I treated physical contact with him like a plague. “Okay.” His expression smoothed out into total blankness. It made my stomach twist. Had he already mentally checked out? Was he already planning the divorce? Timmy sat on the edge of the mattress. He reached out and casually pulled the edge of the duvet over his lap, covering himself. [LMAO, the absolute king of ‘cold showers and doing my own laundry’ right here.] [Timmy: Pain is just weakness leaving the body.] [Timmy’s lower half: Bro, do you hate me? Are you actively trying to kill me?] [The second she grabbed his hand, he probably planned their entire second honeymoon in his head.] [Aria, listen to me. Everyone in this world is using you. Your husband and your kid are the only ones who actually give a damn about you.] I looked up at him. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I wanted to ask you face to face…” I didn’t get to finish. My phone vibrated violently on the nightstand. I fumbled for it and accidentally hit the speakerphone button. A deep, professional male voice echoed through the room. “Good evening, Ms. Sinclair. I am the divorce attorney you—” I slammed my finger onto the end call button in pure panic. Timmy was already on his feet. His back was turned to me, and his posture was terrifyingly stiff. His voice was pure ice. “I have work to do. Whatever you wanted to say, we can talk about it another day.” He walked out without looking back. He was walking so fast he nearly tripped over the rug by the door. [Aria, I think you just broke your husband.] [Why on earth would the divorce lawyer call right at this exact second?!] [What was the point of being nice to him for two days just to gut him like this? That’s just cruel.] I didn’t hire that divorce lawyer. I had no idea why they were calling me. Then my screen lit up with a text from my mother: “Aria, hurry up and sign the papers with Timmy. Mom is going to bring you home.”

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1 “I am not asking you to pay me back for the surgery. I actually have a grandson right around your age. How about I set you two up?” The old woman in the hospital bed looked terrifyingly pale, but she gripped my hand with a stubborn, totally unreasonable smile. I was sweating bullets. “Please do not joke around like that, ma’am,” my voice literally shook. “I just got fired from my job. I borrowed that fifteen grand to cover your emergency surgery deposit. Once your family gets here, please just wire it back to me. I do not even have rent money for next month.” The old lady waved her hand like it was absolutely nothing. “What are you panicking for? My grandson is loaded. I will make him pay you back with interest.” Thirty minutes later, the hospital room door slammed open. “Grandma! What happened? Why are you in the ER?” The voice was a tense mix of panic and suppressed rage. I turned around on pure instinct. The second our eyes locked, the room went so dead silent you could hear the IV drip echoing. We both froze completely. Because the man standing in the doorway was Adam Blackwood. The exact same CEO who, exactly three hours ago, ripped my medical receipt to shreds in front of two hundred executives and told me to get the hell out of his company. 2 My name was Willow Quinn. I was the most invisible corporate drone in the Strategy Department of Blackwood Group. How invisible? The security guards downstairs knew the faces of the local delivery drivers, but they could never remember which floor I worked on. I was always the first to arrive and the last to leave. If the coffee machine broke, I submitted the maintenance ticket. If the projector malfunctioned, I was the one crawling under the table to fix the cables. If a department suddenly needed an emergency brief, everyone’s first instinct was to yell my name. Because I was useful. And because I was too terrified to say no. My mom ran a tiny food truck back in my hometown, selling breakfast sandwiches rain or shine for over a decade. Last year, she was diagnosed with severe kidney disease. Her monthly medical bills were a bottomless black hole. I had zero safety net. My probationary salary at Blackwood Group was barely enough to scrape by, but if I became a permanent employee, the pay bump and the year-end bonus meant my mom could afford her medication next month. To anyone else in this building, it was just a number. To me, it was literal survival. On my first day, my supervisor Brenda tossed a massive stack of files onto my chest. “Willow, Adam absolutely despises incompetence.” She tapped her cherry-red acrylic nails against my cheap plastic name tag. “You went to a no-name state college. The only reason you got your foot in the door is because HR took pity on you. Do not start thinking you are actually someone important here.” I nodded. “I will work hard, Brenda.” She let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “Hard work is useless. This building is packed with people who work hard. What we need are people who make the CEO look good.” A soft, melodic laugh drifted over from the next desk. “Brenda, stop scaring her. What if she cries?” That was Lily. She was the new executive assistant to the CEO. Ivy League graduate, stunningly gorgeous, and always spoke in this gentle, breathy voice. Naturally, the entire office revolved around her. Rumor had it she and Adam grew up together. Rumor also had it she was practically one ring away from becoming the future Mrs. Blackwood. The way Brenda looked at Lily was entirely different from how she looked at me. “Lily, you are too sweet, but corporate is not a charity. Give girls like her an inch, and they forget their place.” Lily slid a cup of expensive coffee across the desk toward me. “Do not mind her, Willow. Brenda just wants you to succeed. Adam has insanely high standards, so just shadow me and you will learn.” I reached for the coffee. The scalding liquid spilled slightly, burning the back of my hand. She saw it and did not warn me. Brenda saw it too and just rolled her eyes. “Why are you spacing out? Get those bidding documents to the twenty-eighth floor before nine-thirty.” I grabbed the binders and ran. 3 That was the very first time I met Adam Blackwood. The conference room on the twenty-eighth floor was massive. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the most expensive real estate in the city. Adam sat at the head of the table. He wore a tailored black suit, his tie knotted with absolute, ruthless precision. He did not even glance at me, only scanning the document I placed in front of him. “Who put this together?” I opened my mouth to speak, but Lily confidently strolled into the room. “Adam, the Strategy team and I finalized it this morning. Willow just ran the errand to bring it up.” Adam flipped through two more pages. “The logic is clean.” Lily beamed. “I am glad you like it. I was so worried it would not meet your standards.” I stood frozen by the door, clutching the backup data in my hands. I had stayed up until 3 AM for three nights straight to write that proposal. Lily had literally only changed a single comma on the final page. Adam finally lifted his eyes and looked at me. “Do you need something?” My throat went completely dry. “Mr. Blackwood, regarding the foot traffic projections for the Vanguard Center project, there is a supplemental data sheet right here. I thought…” Brenda cleared her throat loudly from the hallway. Lily smiled and smoothly cut me off. “Willow, you can head back downstairs. I will walk Adam through the supplemental data right now.” Adam looked away from me. “Get out.” I swallowed my words, turned around, and walked out. The second the heavy glass doors clicked shut, I heard Brenda hissing at me. “You have zero situational awareness. Do you have any idea who is sitting in that room?” That night, Lily used my proposal to present at the internal town hall. Adam publicly praised her. The entire room erupted into applause. Brenda stood up, grinning from ear to ear. “Lily has only been here for three months, and she is already delivering senior-level results. Mr. Blackwood definitely has an eye for talent.” Adam leaned back in his chair. “Lily will be the lead coordinator for the Vanguard Center bidding war.” The applause grew deafening. I sat in the very back row, my fingernails digging sharp crescent moons into my palms. My desk neighbor, Zoe, leaned over and whispered. “Did you not pull all-nighters for that exact file?” I looked at Lily on the stage. She was smiling down at Adam, looking completely pure and harmless. “Drop it,” I whispered back. Zoe angrily slammed her pen onto her notebook. “Why? She steals your work to show off, and you are just going to sit here and clap for her?” I did not clap. Brenda noticed. After the meeting, she cornered me in the breakroom. “Willow, what exactly was that attitude out there?” “I did not have an attitude.” “No attitude?” She slammed her ceramic mug onto the counter. “Lily gets recognized by the CEO, and you sit there looking like someone died. Who do you think you are?” “I wrote that proposal.” Footsteps paused right outside the breakroom door. Brenda looked at me like I had just told a hilarious joke. “You wrote it? Prove it.” I pulled out my phone and opened the cloud document’s version history. Brenda did not even look at the screen. She just reached out and shoved my phone down. “Listen to me very carefully. In this company, whoever Adam credits is the one who gets the glory. You are a disposable temp making pennies. Stop daydreaming.” Lily walked in. She was holding a sleek water bottle, her tone as soft as ever. “Brenda, let it go. Willow is probably just exhausted.” I stared right into her eyes. “Lily. You know exactly who wrote that file.” She paused for a fraction of a second before smiling warmly. “Willow, there is no need to aggressively divide team efforts like this. You will understand how corporate works eventually.” Brenda instantly chimed in. “Did you hear that? Lily is still covering for you after you disrespected her. If you throw another tantrum, I will have HR escort you out tomorrow.” I shut my mouth. I needed this paycheck. 4 Late that night, I took the last bus back to the rundown apartment complex on the edge of the city. Underneath a flickering streetlamp by the alley, an old woman was squatting on the curb, flattening cardboard boxes. She wore a faded gray jacket that looked entirely out of place in the cold wind. She saw me walking by and waved me over. “Sweetheart, could you take a look at my phone? I cannot make any calls.” I walked over and checked her screen. The carrier notification popped up immediately. “Ma’am, your phone service got suspended. You are out of minutes.” She patted her empty pockets, looking thoroughly embarrassed. “I completely forgot to pay the bill. Could you possibly top it up with twenty bucks for me? I swear I will pay you back tomorrow.” I hesitated. I had only eaten a single plain bagel for dinner to save money. But looking at her shivering shoulders, I ended up paying fifty dollars into her account. The old lady stared at the confirmation text for a long time. “What is your name, sweetheart?” “Willow Quinn.” “Like the tree?” “Yes. Like the tree.” She nodded slowly. “That is a good, strong name. Branches and leaves. You bend, but you do not break. You will survive anything.” I smiled politely, not thinking much of it. 5 The next morning, Brenda ordered me to print and bind three hundred copies of the project materials. The massive industrial printer jammed. I was kneeling on the floor, ripping open the paper trays, when Lily walked over in her designer heels. “Willow, are the documents ready for the ten o’clock Vanguard bidding meeting?” “Yes,” I said, wiping toner off my hands. “Digital and physical copies are all set up in the main conference room.” She leaned down, lowering her voice so only I could hear. “Do not be mad at me for not defending you yesterday. Adam hates employees who fight over credit. I was just trying to keep you off his radar so he would not fire you.” I yanked the jammed paper out of the rollers. “Lily, I just want to do my job.” She sighed softly, like she was talking to a stubborn child. “You are just too young to get it.” By 9:50 AM, Adam and the executives filed into the conference room. The representatives from Vanguard Center were already seated. I stood strictly by the door, my only job was to hand out supplemental files if needed. Lily sat to Adam’s right. As she opened the master binder, the color completely drained from her face. She whipped her head around to look at me. “Willow, where is Appendix C?” I froze. “Appendix C is in the second blue folder.” “It is not here.” She shoved the binder to the center of the mahogany table. A critical page was completely missing. Adam looked up, his eyes turning to ice. “What is going on?” Brenda instantly jumped out of her seat. “Mr. Blackwood, Willow Quinn was solely responsible for assembling these binders.” A dozen heavy, judgmental stares locked onto me. I practically sprinted to the table and flipped through the folder. Appendix C was actually gone. It was the most critical page detailing our entire budget breakdown. I had personally hole-punched it and placed it there last night. Lily’s voice started to tremble with panic. “Willow, I reminded you three separate times yesterday that this specific page could not be left out. How could you make such a massive mistake?” I stared at her. “You never reminded me.” Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. “I know you have a grudge against me over the proposal credit, but a multi-million dollar bidding war is not the place to throw a tantrum.” Adam’s face darkened like a thundercloud. “Willow Quinn.” I looked at him. “Get out,” he ordered. “Mr. Blackwood, I have the backup files on my laptop. I can print them right now and—” “I said, get out.” He did not even raise his voice, but the entire room fell dead silent. Brenda marched over and dug her acrylic nails into my arm. “Have you not embarrassed us enough? Get out.” She practically dragged me into the hallway. Just before the doors closed, I saw Lily pulling up a document on her sleek tablet. “Adam, I kept a backup version on my personal drive just in case. Let’s cast my screen to the projector.” Adam looked at her, his expression softening slightly. “Good work.” The door clicked shut. I stood in the sterile hallway. Red crescent marks were digging into my forearm where Brenda had grabbed me. Zoe sprinted out from her cubicle. “What happened?” Brenda pointed a manicured finger at my face. “She intentionally sabotaged the files. She almost cost us the entire bid.” Zoe’s eyes went wide. “That is impossible. I literally watched Willow put Appendix C into those folders before she clocked out last night.” Brenda sneered. “Who cares what you saw? Adam only cares about results.” I stared at the frosted glass of the conference room. Through the heavy doors, I could hear Adam’s steady, authoritative voice. “Let’s continue.” My existence was so worthless to him that it did not even warrant a five-minute pause. 6 When the meeting wrapped up, Lily was universally hailed as the savior of the day. Adam stood in front of the executive team and announced, “Lily’s crisis management was flawless. The Strategy Department is getting a double bonus this month.” Brenda led the standing ovation. People were looking at me like I was toxic waste. Zoe could not hold it in anymore. “Mr. Blackwood, Appendix C was absolutely in those folders last night. I watched Willow pack them.” Brenda snapped instantly. “Zoe, are you seriously trying to commit perjury for her?” Zoe’s face turned bright red. “It is not perjury. It is the truth.” Lily stood up gracefully. “Let it go, everyone. Willow was probably just overwhelmed and made a careless mistake under pressure. Adam, please do not punish her too harshly.” Adam turned his piercing gaze to me. “Do you have anything to say for yourself?” I held out my phone. “These are the timestamped photos I took of the assembled binders at 10 PM last night. Appendix C is clearly visible. There is also a security camera right outside the conference room. Check the footage between 9:40 and 10:00 AM. Whoever touched those files will be on tape.” Brenda’s face twitched nervously. Lily’s hand hovered over the binders before slowly pulling back. Adam did not even glance at my phone screen. “We are not checking the cameras.” “Why not?” I asked, my voice cracking. He looked at Lily. “Because I trust her.” Those three words hit harder than a physical blow to the face. Lily lowered her head, looking like a fragile angel who had just been deeply wronged. Brenda immediately sucked up to him. “You are totally right, sir. Keeping someone as toxic as Willow around is a massive liability.” Adam looked down at me with pure disdain. “Deduct her monthly bonus. One more incident, and you are packing your desk.” I did not even have a bonus to deduct. Probationary employees did not get bonuses. He did not even know that. I turned around and walked back to my cubicle. Zoe followed me, shaking with pure rage. “Why the hell won’t he check the cameras? He believes whatever garbage Lily feeds him. Is he legally blind?” I booted up my computer. “Stop talking, Zoe.” “You are just going to swallow this?” I re-saved Appendix C onto the shared drive. My voice dropped to a hollow whisper. “I have not bought my mom’s kidney medication for this month yet.” Zoe went completely quiet. 7 At 5:00 PM, my phone buzzed with an automated text from the hospital. My mom’s checkup fees had just increased again. I stared at the glowing screen until my eyes burned. I stood up and walked toward the breakroom to get some water. And then I saw her. The old lady from the alleyway was sitting right in the middle of the corporate lobby. She had changed into a cheap, gray utility jacket. A worn-out canvas bag rested at her feet. She looked completely lost. The front desk receptionist was actively blocking her. “Ma’am, you cannot go upstairs without an appointment.” The old lady replied firmly, “I am looking for Adam Blackwood.” The receptionist scoffed. “Yeah, you and half the city. Stop causing a scene.” I quickly walked over. “Ma’am, what are you doing here?” Her eyes lit up the second she saw me. “Willow! I came to find my grandson.” The receptionist shot me a dirty look. “Willow, you know this crazy lady?” I nodded. “Her phone died the other night. I helped her out.” The receptionist rolled her eyes dramatically. “Then get her out of here before you ruin the company’s image.” The old lady slowly tried to stand up, but her canvas bag slid off her lap. A small plastic pillbox spilled onto the marble floor. I bent down to pick it up. When I saw the medication label and the dosage instructions, my stomach dropped. “Are you feeling okay?” I asked, grabbing her arm. She waved me off. “Just old age. I am fine.” The exact moment those words left her mouth, her entire body collapsed sideways. I lunged and caught her. She gripped my blazer sleeve with a death grip, her other hand clutching her chest. Her lips were turning a terrifying shade of blue. The receptionist screamed and jumped back. “Do not look at me! I did not touch her!” “Call 911!” I screamed. Nobody moved. A crowd of corporate employees formed a circle around us. Some people even pulled out their phones to record. I ripped my phone out of my pocket with one hand and dialed emergency services. “I am at the Blackwood Group headquarters lobby. An elderly woman is having a severe heart attack. Send an ambulance immediately.” The receptionist hissed at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Are you insane? An ambulance parking outside the glass doors is awful PR! Adam is going to lose his mind when he finds out.” I glared at her. “If she dies on this marble floor, that is awful PR.” The ambulance sirens wailed just as the private executive elevator dinged open. Adam and Lily stepped out into the chaotic lobby. Lily gasped, covering her mouth. “What is going on? Why are paramedics here?” Brenda elbowed her way to the front. “Mr. Blackwood! It is Willow! She dragged some homeless woman who collects cardboard into the lobby, and now the woman is having a medical episode. She is causing a massive scene.” Adam’s freezing gaze locked onto me. I was kneeling on the floor, holding the old woman’s wrist to check her pulse while rapidly relaying her symptoms to the paramedics. “Are there any family members present?” the paramedic asked. “We cannot reach them right now,” I said quickly. “I will ride in the ambulance with her.” “Willow Quinn.” Adam’s voice cut through the chaos like a knife. I looked up. “The final round of the Vanguard Plaza bidding war starts in exactly ten minutes,” he said coldly. “The final version of the pitch deck you were assigned to review has not been delivered to the boardroom.” “Mr. Blackwood, she is in critical condition.” Adam glanced at the old woman on the stretcher. His face was carved out of stone. “Hospitals have doctors. Blackwood Group is not a charity shelter.” I clutched the old lady’s spilled pillbox tightly against my chest. “I will ride with her to the ER to sign her in, and I will rush straight back.” Lily stepped forward, her voice soft and full of fake concern. “Willow, this meeting is crucial. You already messed up once today. Do not be dramatic and ruin everything.” I looked down at the old lady. She was slipping out of consciousness, unable to even speak. “Are you coming or not?” the paramedic yelled. “Every second counts with cardiac arrest!” I did not look at Adam again. “I am coming.” As I stepped toward the doors, Adam’s voice echoed behind me. “If you walk out those doors today, do not bother coming back.” My footsteps faltered for a fraction of a second. Zoe was standing in the crowd, tears streaming down her face. “Willow…” “The physical binders are in the blue folder on the left side of my desk,” I told Zoe loudly. “The digital master file is on the shared drive. It is labeled ‘Final_V2’.” Brenda scoffed loudly. “Listen to her giving orders like she owns the place.” I climbed into the back of the ambulance. Right before the heavy doors slammed shut, I saw Adam standing in the pristine lobby, looking absolutely furious. Lily stood practically plastered to his side, whispering something into his ear. He did not look at me again. 8 Outside the emergency operating room, I swiped my debit card for the absolute final time. My bank balance dropped to $37.60. “It is a good thing you got her here when you did,” the ER doctor said, handing me a clipboard. “Five more minutes and she would have been gone. Sign here.” My hands were sweating so badly the pen kept slipping. “I am just a friend. Am I legally allowed to sign for surgery?” The doctor gave me a grim look. “We save the life first. The deposit is paid, you sign as the emergency contact, and we figure out the rest later.” Fifteen grand. I had maxed out every credit card, drained my savings, and taken out micro-loans. My phone kept buzzing with terrifying repayment notifications. I did not dare open them. The red surgical light stayed on for four agonizing hours. I sat on the cold plastic bench in the hallway, still wearing my Blackwood Group employee lanyard. At 7:00 PM, Zoe called me. “Willow, where are you?” “The hospital.” There was a heavy echo in the background. She was hiding in a stairwell. “The bid was a total disaster.” I closed my eyes. “How bad?” “Vanguard’s reps walked out mid-presentation. They said we were wildly unprepared. Adam absolutely detonated in the boardroom.” “Did they not find the files on my desk?” I asked. Zoe cursed under her breath. “They found them. But Brenda swore you purposely did not do a formal handover to sabotage the team. Lily tried to use her ‘backup’ version again, but the pricing metrics were completely blank.” “The master file was on the shared drive.” “The shared drive got wiped.” I sat up completely straight. “Who wiped it?” Zoe lowered her voice to a terrified whisper. “I do not know for sure. But IT said the deletion command came from your employee ID login.” I stared at the glowing red light above the operating room. “I left my computer unlocked when the ambulance arrived.” “Brenda is currently swearing up and down that you deleted the files as revenge against the company,” Zoe said, her voice shaking. “Adam ordered HR to process your termination paperwork tomorrow morning. And…” She choked on her words. “And what?” “He said Blackwood Group is sending a blackball notice to every major corporation in the state. Nobody will ever hire you again.” A nurse pushed a loud metal cart down the hallway. The wheels rattled aggressively against the tile. “I understand,” I said numbly. Zoe panicked. “Why are you so calm?! Willow, he is literally destroying your entire career!” I looked down at the massive hospital receipt in my hand. “The old lady is still in surgery.” Zoe went dead silent for a few seconds before cursing viciously. “Adam Blackwood is a monster.” After I hung up, I walked into the hospital bathroom and splashed freezing water on my face. The girl in the mirror looked like a ghost. The corporate lanyard still hung heavily around her neck. Willow Quinn. Blackwood Group. The letters were printed perfectly straight. I unclipped the lanyard and shoved it into my pocket. At 1:00 AM, the surgical doors finally swung open. “The surgery was a success, but the next 24 hours are critical,” the surgeon said. “Did you manage to reach her family?” I shook my head. The old lady was still unconscious. I slept in a hard plastic chair next to her bed for the rest of the night. When the sun came up, my phone rang aggressively. It was Brenda. I answered it. She started screaming instantly. “Where the hell are you playing dead?! Adam wants you in the building by 9:00 AM sharp.” “I am at the hospital.” “Do you really have the nerve to use that excuse again?” Brenda’s voice was shrill enough to shatter glass. “Do you have any concept of how many millions you cost us yesterday? Adam called an all-hands meeting. You are going to stand on that stage and publicly apologize to the entire company.” “I did not delete the shared drive.” “Who cares if you deleted it?! Your login was used, so you take the fall.” I glanced at the fragile woman hooked up to the monitors. “I cannot leave right now.” Brenda laughed maliciously. “Fine. Do not show up. Adam said if you do not come, he will personally email your termination notice and your sabotage record to the CEO of every partner agency we work with.” I tightened my grip on the phone. “I will be there.” 9 At 9:50 AM, I walked through the glass doors of Blackwood Group. The town hall meeting had already started. Over two hundred executives, directors, and corporate staff were packed into the grand auditorium. The massive projector screen displayed a slide detailing the catastrophic failure of the Vanguard Plaza bid. When I pushed the doors open, every single head turned to look at me. Adam stood on the stage. Lily sat in the front row, looking perfectly poised. Brenda hovered off to the side, vibrating with excitement like she was watching reality TV. Adam picked up the microphone. “Willow Quinn.” I stopped right in the middle of the center aisle. He looked down at me from the stage. “Because you abandoned your post, Blackwood Group lost the Vanguard project. Because you maliciously deleted company data, our crisis management completely failed.” I tilted my chin up. “I never maliciously deleted any data.” Brenda grabbed a mic from the side. “The digital footprint literally has your name on it! Are you still trying to lie?” Lily stood up gracefully, holding her hands together. “Willow, if you just admit what you did, maybe Adam will show you some mercy. We all know you are struggling financially, but poverty is not an excuse to sabotage the company.” I stared right through her. “Lily, who physically removed Appendix C from my desk?” Her soft, angelic expression cracked slightly. “What are you talking about?” “Who used my computer to wipe the shared drive?” Brenda stormed down the aisle and violently snatched my tote bag off my shoulder. “Are you seriously trying to frame Lily now?!” She aggressively dumped the contents of my bag onto an empty chair. The hospital receipt fluttered to the ground. Brenda snatched it up, squinted at it, and burst out laughing. “Fifteen grand for a surgery deposit? Wow, Willow, you really committed to the bit. You forged a fake medical receipt just to dodge getting fired?” I lunged forward to grab it back. She yanked her hand up high, waving it like a trophy. “Look at this, everyone! She claims she left to save a life! Whose life? Some homeless beggar who collects trash? It is absolutely pathetic.” Laughter rippled through the auditorium. People were whispering and shaking their heads. Zoe shot out of her seat in the back row. “Brenda, give her back the receipt!” Brenda slammed the piece of paper onto a desk. “I will give it back to her when she stands on that stage and admits she ruined the Vanguard bid because she was off running personal errands.” Adam slowly walked down the steps from the stage. He stopped right in front of me and picked up the receipt. For a second, I genuinely thought he might look at the hospital stamp and ask a single question. Instead, he glanced at the fifteen-thousand-dollar total, grabbed both ends of the paper, and ripped it straight down the middle. He ripped it again. And again. The confetti-like pieces drifted down and landed on my shoes. “Willow Quinn,” Adam said, his voice void of any human emotion. “Blackwood Group pays employees to work, not to play savior on company time.” I stared at the shredded paper on the carpet. “Mr. Blackwood. That was a human life.” “I run a corporation, not a church.” He unclipped my employee badge from his hand and tossed it onto the table. “You are officially terminated.” The auditorium was dead silent. He continued, his voice ringing through the room. “You are permanently banned from every Blackwood subsidiary. I will personally make the phone calls to ensure our partner agencies never hire you.” Zoe screamed from the back. “Mr. Blackwood, you cannot do this to her!” Adam did not even look in her direction. “Anyone who defends her will be packing their bags with her.” Zoe’s coworkers practically tackled her, covering her mouth to keep her quiet. Lily sighed softly, looking at me with absolute pity. “Just leave, Willow. Stop humiliating yourself.” I slowly crouched down and began picking up the shredded pieces of the receipt. Brenda backed away, acting like I was infectious. “Still picking up trash? Think of that fifteen grand as tuition for a life lesson. Stop pretending to be a saint.” I clenched the shredded paper tightly in my fist and stood up. Adam gestured coldly to the back. “Security.” Two massive security guards marched down the aisle. I looked Adam dead in the eyes. “Adam Blackwood. I hope you never regret this.” He let out a short, dismissive breath, like he was swatting a fly. “Take her out.” The guards grabbed my arms and hauled me out of the auditorium. As I was dragged backward, Lily’s sickly sweet voice drifted through the closing doors. “Adam, please do not let this ruin your day. I will work overtime to rebuild the data files.” “Thank you, Lily,” Adam replied. “I appreciate it.” The doors slammed shut.

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After the yacht went down, I was stranded on a nightmare of an island for three years. I had my fingernails ripped out. I was forced to eat raw meat. I was broken and trained like a wild animal. Until the day a red flare shot into the sky. I ran for my life, desperate for rescue. But when I reached the beach, I watched the tribal chief wipe the blood-red war paint from his face. Underneath was the face of my fiancé, Joseph. “Congratulations. You passed the wife-training trial.” “From now on, you are going to be a perfect, obedient wife.” Joseph pulled my violently trembling body into his arms. His eyes were red, his voice as sickeningly gentle as it used to be when we were dating. And the “Chief’s Wife,” the woman who used to hold my hands down and laugh while she ripped my nails out one by one? That was Valerie. My best friend. “You were too rebellious before, Scarlett. Too spoiled. Your temper was unacceptable.” Back home, my parents smiled warmly, showering me with praise. “Exactly. This is wonderful. Look how docile she is now.” 1 Pop. A red flare exploded over the ocean while I was squatting by a rocky pit, smashing animal bones with a rock. I was making soup for the Chief. If the bones weren’t crushed fine enough, I would be beaten tonight. I froze for a split second, dropped the heavy stone, and bolted toward the water. My right leg had been mangled by a wild dog during my first year fighting for scraps. I ran with a heavy, pathetic limp. Jagged reefs sliced open the soles of my feet. Low-hanging branches tore at my arms. I didn’t care. Rescue was here. I truly believed rescue was here. I stumbled and collapsed onto the sandy beach, dragging my body toward the pristine white yacht anchored in the shallows. “Help me. Please, God, help me.” A man stood on the deck. Tall, heavily muscled, his face smeared with bloody tribal paint, wearing a crown of feathers. The cannibal Chief. My entire body locked up. A second later, my knees gave out and I slammed hard into the wet sand. “Master. I wasn’t running away.” “I was looking for firewood. I swear I wasn’t running.” I wrapped my arms around my head and pressed my forehead brutally into the sand. My voice was a broken, terrified squeak. A soft sigh floated down from above me. “Scarlett.” Perfect, unaccented English. My head snapped up. The Chief slowly pulled off his carved wooden mask. He wiped the greasepaint from his jaw, revealing a face I knew better than my own. Joseph. My billionaire fiancé. My lips trembled uncontrollably. It took me agonizing seconds to choke out a single word. “…Joseph?” He stepped off the boat and crouched in front of me. Just like he had done a thousand times before we got engaged, he reached out and gently stroked my hair. “It’s me.” “Don’t be scared. It’s over.” I stared at him. My brain felt like it was being cleaved in half with an axe. A familiar giggle echoed behind him. The “Chief’s Wife”, the woman who always pinned my wrists while iron pliers tore my nails from their beds, took off her bone mask. Valerie. My ride-or-die best friend. “Scarlett, why do you look like that?” Valerie smiled, crouching down next to me. “You should be thrilled. Joseph went through so much trouble to set this up for you.” I stared at her. A deafening ringing filled my ears. Joseph pulled me into his chest. His voice was velvet. “Scarlett, you used to fight with me constantly. You threatened to cancel the wedding. You kept saying you wanted to build your own startup.” “You were too proud. Too independent. You had no idea that a marriage can’t survive on just love.” “I had to use extreme measures to teach you how to submit. To teach you how to rely on me. I had to rip those thorns right out of you.” His hand rubbed my spine, soothing me like a spooked stray dog. “I know you suffered out here.” “But if I didn’t do this, you would never have learned how to be a proper wife.” “It’s all good now.” “You finally know your place.” My blood turned to ice. My stomach violently rebelled, and I threw up right there in the sand. Valerie immediately jumped back in disgust. But Joseph didn’t flinch. He used an expensive pocket square to wipe the bile from my lips, his eyes practically swimming with tender affection. “Alright, let’s go home.” “Your parents are waiting for you.” That was the exact moment I realized the truth. These past three years weren’t a shipwreck. They weren’t an act of God. It was a calculated, custom-built slaughterhouse designed just for me. 2 The day we flew back, the Montgomery and Vance families threw a massive welcome home gala. Joseph wanted the entire elite social circle to know he had brought his missing bride back from the dead. The ballroom was blindingly bright, dripping in crystal and designer perfume. I wore a high-necked, long-sleeved gown to hide the mosaic of scars covering my body. I wore lace gloves to hide the missing fingernails. Joseph held my hand tightly, parading me through the crowd to soak up the compliments. “Joseph is a saint. Searching for three years and finally bringing her home.” “Look at her. She went through hell, but she looks so much softer and tamer now.” “Now that is exactly how a bride should act.” Joseph soaked it all in, thoroughly satisfied. He squeezed my hand and whispered, “See? Everyone loves the new you.” I kept my head down. I didn’t say a word. Right then, a waiter wheeled out a cart for table-side flambé steaks. The moment the liquor hit the hot pan, a massive fireball erupted into the air. I let out a blood-curdling scream. My legs buckled and I dropped to the floor, scrambling on all fours to hide under the nearest banquet table. “Don’t burn me! I’ll eat it! I’ll eat the raw meat! Please don’t burn me!” I dragged the tablecloth down with me. Expensive wine glasses and plates shattered across the marble floor. The entire ballroom went dead silent. Joseph’s face tightened. He immediately reached down to pull me up. But the second I saw his hand approaching, it was like looking at a glowing red branding iron. I curled into a tight ball, wrapping my arms defensively over my head. “I’m sorry. I won’t run. Please don’t use the fire.” Joseph froze. He dropped to one knee, scooped me out from under the table, and started whispering in my ear. “Scarlett, it’s okay. We aren’t on the island anymore. As long as you are a good girl, no one is going to burn you.” He held me tight and flashed an apologetic smile to the stunned billionaires. “I am so sorry, everyone. Scarlett just got back and is still adjusting. I am going to nurse her back to health.” That night, Joseph brought me back to the master suite of his penthouse. The moment the door clicked shut, he wrapped his arms around me from behind. His warm lips pressed against the nape of my neck. “Scarlett, tonight we can finally sleep in a real bed.” His hands trailed down to my waist, carrying a very obvious, suffocating implication. My entire body turned into a block of cement. A familiar, horrifying tremor shot up my spine. His expensive cologne suddenly warped in my nostrils, smelling exactly like rotting fish and cheap tribal face paint. On the island, whenever Valerie whipped me with thorny vines until I was half-dead, the masked “Chief” would step out of the shadows. He would stroke my bleeding back exactly like this. And then, ignoring my agonizing screams and my torn flesh, he would force himself onto me in the mud. He called that brutal violation a “Master’s reward” for surviving the day. “Don’t touch me!” I screamed, violently shoving him away. I scrambled backward, falling off the bed and slamming into the corner of the room, dry heaving. Joseph’s hands hovered in the air. His face turned thunderous. But eventually, he just sighed and tossed a towel at me. “I know you need time. I won’t force you tonight.” He turned on his heel and went to the guest room. In the middle of the night, footsteps echoed in the hallway. It was just a maid going to the bathroom. But to my broken brain, it sounded exactly like the island guards doing their nightly patrols. I threw myself off the mattress, crawled into the deepest, darkest corner of the walk-in closet, and curled into a tight ball. I dug my ruined nails into the floorboards, too terrified to even breathe. On the island, the only way to survive the night without being spotted by wild animals or the savages was to sleep pressed against the freezing stone walls. Right before dawn, Joseph opened the bedroom door. He stared at the empty bed. Then, he found me huddled like a beaten stray dog in his closet. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?” he asked, frowning, reaching out to pick me up. I flinched violently and clamped my hands over the back of my neck. “Master, I wasn’t being lazy. I’ll get back to work right now.” Joseph’s hand stopped. A complicated emotion flickered in his eyes, but he aggressively scooped me up and dumped me back onto the mattress. “Scarlett, you are my wife now. You don’t have to do manual labor anymore.” The next morning, his private doctor came to do a full checkup. The blood tests confirmed it. I was two months pregnant. Joseph looked stunned for a second, then his face lit up with absolute euphoria. He crouched in front of my chair, gripping both my hands like they were a sacred treasure. “Scarlett, this is incredible. A baby is exactly what we need to anchor you. From now on, we are going to be a perfect family.” I yanked my hands out of his grip. My voice shook. “I don’t want it.” Joseph paused. His tone remained frighteningly patient. “Don’t be difficult. Your temper has gotten so much better lately. Having a baby will only help you settle down.” I stared at him, and the tears just spilled over. “Joseph, that whole year. It was you. Every night you…” I had survived on my own for two years in that jungle. In the third year, the fake tribe captured me and turned me into a slave. I couldn’t even finish the sentence. He acted like he didn’t understand the horror in my eyes. He just reached out and wiped my tears away. “Scarlett, it’s in the past. If you didn’t go through that, you never would have realized how important having a home is.” “As long as you understand the value of family now, it was all worth it.” I stopped crying instantly. So that was it. In his eyes, letting Valerie pull my nails out, raping me when my mind was shattered, training me like a literal farm animal… all of that was just “teaching me how to be a wife.” 3 Joseph drove me to the Montgomery estate. He said since we were having a baby, my parents needed to know. I hadn’t seen them in three years. I used to think that even if the whole world sided with Joseph, my own mother and father would protect me. When they saw me walk through the door, neither of them hugged me. My mother’s eyes dropped straight to my stomach. She frowned in disgust. “Pregnant before the wedding? Do you have any idea how bad this makes our family look?” Joseph stepped in smoothly. “Mrs. Montgomery, Scarlett’s situation is unique. This child is—” “I was asking her,” my mother snapped, cutting him off. She glared at me. “Three years fighting for your life, and instead of learning some grace, you come back knocked up? Haven’t you humiliated the Montgomery name enough?” My throat tightened. “Mom. It wasn’t like that. I was forced—” “Enough!” my father roared, slamming his hand on the mahogany coffee table. “Joseph already filled us in on everything.” “Do you even remember how you used to act?” “Arrogant, selfish, flipping out over nothing. You refused to listen to anyone. Threatening to break off the engagement every time Joseph tried to guide you. You were a walking PR nightmare. What man would put up with that?” “But look at you now. You swallowed some bitter pills, and you finally know how to bow your head.” I stared at the floor. All I ever wanted was to avoid an arranged marriage and build my own tech company before settling down. My mother chimed in. Her voice was quieter, but the words cut infinitely deeper. “Look at you now. You’re so quiet. So polite.” “If you had just acted like this from the start, none of this drama would have happened.” I stood frozen, my fingers going numb. “But Mom. They weren’t saving me on that island.” “Valerie used pliers to rip my fingernails out. When I tried to run, they broke my leg. And at night. At night Joseph would hold me down and…” I choked on my own words. Thick, hot tears streamed down my face. My mother just rolled her eyes. “Stop it. Talking about things like that in front of us is incredibly vulgar. And even if something did happen, that is private business between an engaged couple.” “Besides, if you really fought back, who could actually force you to do anything?” My father scoffed. “Exactly. The truth is, you just never respected the institution of marriage. Now that Joseph has finally put a leash on you, you’re throwing a tantrum.” Those words scrambled my brain like a blender. Flashbacks of the island hit me like physical blows. Valerie pressing red-hot wire against my calf, forcing me to swallow chunks of bloody, raw meat. And Joseph, sitting just a few feet away in a throne made of animal skins, watching with dead, cold eyes. As long as I refused to spread my legs and beg for him, Valerie’s torture never stopped. Every time I screamed, Joseph would just sigh and say, “She still hasn’t learned.” To stay alive, I had to crawl through the mud to his boots and beg him for mercy. And now, my own flesh and blood were asking me why I didn’t just fight back. I looked at the people who raised me, completely incapable of forming a single word. My mother stepped closer. Her tone shifted into something sickeningly comforting. “Listen to your mother.” “The most important thing for a woman is to secure a good marriage.” “Joseph spent a massive fortune and so much energy to fix your personality. That proves he truly loves you.” “With the way you used to behave, he is the only man on earth who would still want you.” “Now that you’re pregnant, stop playing the victim. Marry him, keep your mouth shut, and be a respectable society wife. Stop embarrassing us.” They knew. They knew everything. But they didn’t care about the barbaric, inhuman torture I endured. They only cared that the wild stallion had finally been broken into a docile, breeding mare. Joseph walked over and wrapped a protective arm around my shaking shoulders. “Scarlett, they just want what’s best for you. Look, we have a baby on the way. It’s time to settle down.” That night, in my childhood bedroom, I started bleeding heavily. The doctor said the emotional trauma was causing a threatened miscarriage. Joseph sat by the bed, his eyes bloodshot from stress. “Scarlett, don’t be scared. The baby will make it. Just please, for my sake and the baby’s, stop fighting me. Just behave. Please?” I lay flat on the mattress and slowly turned my head to face the blank wall. In that exact second, the very last shred of hope I had for humanity evaporated into thin air. 4 The night of the Joseph Corporation’s annual charity gala, he personally picked out my dress. A flowing white gown with a high, loose empire waist, perfectly concealing the slight bump in my stomach. As he locked a diamond necklace around my throat, his voice was as patient as a man talking to a toddler. “Scarlett, don’t be nervous tonight. After this, the whole world is going to know that you are finally fixed.” He loved using that word. “Fixed.” As if the old me, the woman who had pride and dignity, was a diseased monster that needed putting down. He held my hand tight the entire evening. He paraded me around, telling investors that while I was still recovering from the shock of the island, I was healing beautifully. Men praised me for being so gentle. Women whispered that Joseph truly knew how to tame a wild heart. Whenever he heard those comments, Joseph just smiled proudly. Halfway through the night, he led me to the grand piano in the center of the room. “Scarlett, play something for us. Mariage d’Amour. It used to be your favorite.” My entire body locked up. My fingers started to violently shake. The eight fingernails that had been ripped out had only just started growing a paper-thin layer of new keratin. Pressing them against solid piano keys would be agonizing. Joseph noticed my hesitation. He leaned down and whispered in my ear. “Don’t be scared. The only way to forget the past is to push through the pain.” He said it with such absolute conviction. As if forcing me to press my most agonizing physical wounds into my most traumatic memories was an act of profound love. I sat down. I pressed the first key. A sharp, blinding pain shot straight into my finger bones. All the color drained from my face, but I kept playing. Halfway through the song, blood started seeping from my nail beds. Little red droplets smeared across the pristine ivory keys. Joseph stood right beside the bench. His eyes were actually shining with pride. Like a strict teacher watching a slow student finally ace a test. When the song ended, the room erupted in applause. Joseph pulled me up and kissed my forehead. “Good girl.” Right then, a man in a tailored suit walked over, holding a cocktail. “Congratulations, Joseph.” I recognized that voice instantly. On the island, he was one of the fake savages. He was the one who loved making me bark like a dog for fresh water. They were all in on it. Every single one of them. The man looked at me, a nasty smirk on his face. “Miss Montgomery, care to cheers?” I kept my head bowed and offered my glass of sparkling cider. He deliberately tilted his wrist, dumping his entire martini straight into my face. Ice cold alcohol dripped from my eyelashes and soaked my hair. Without a second of hesitation, I raised my right hand and slapped myself across the face as hard as I could. Smack. I swung again. Smack. “I’m sorry. I was clumsy. I failed.” I chanted the apology mechanically. It was a reflex burned directly into my nervous system. On the island, any mistake required immediate, violent self-punishment. If I hesitated, I would be thrown into the underground water cage. The entire ballroom gasped in horror. Even the man who spilled the drink took a step back, visibly spooked. Joseph’s face went pale. He grabbed my wrists, real panic bleeding into his voice. “Scarlett, stop! No one is mad at you!” But my body wouldn’t stop violently trembling. I collapsed against his chest, and suddenly, a sharp, stabbing cramp ripped through my lower abdomen. Hot, thick liquid began pooling down my thighs. Joseph looked down, saw the dark red blood staining the hem of my white dress, and his composure completely shattered. “A doctor! Get a fucking doctor right now!” The gala devolved into pure chaos. Valerie sprinted over in her designer heels, screaming, “Why is she bleeding?!” I couldn’t stand. Joseph scooped me up into his arms, shaking like a leaf. “It’s going to be fine. The baby will be fine…” But just as he turned toward the exit, the massive projector screen at the back of the stage went completely black. A few seconds later, it flickered back to life. The footage that began to play caused several women in the room to scream in absolute terror. Joseph froze mid-step. He stared up at the giant screen, and for the very first time, I saw genuine, unadulterated terror shatter his arrogant face. And in that exact moment of distraction, I used every ounce of adrenaline left in my dying body. I grabbed a jagged, broken shard of a champagne flute from the nearest table, and violently jammed it directly into my own jugular. “Scarlett—!!” Joseph let out a sound that didn’t even sound human. I looked at him, gave him a bloody, triumphant smile, and sliced deep. Hot blood sprayed like a fountain across his immaculate white shirt. In the final second before my vision faded to black, looking at his completely destroyed, hysterical face, I felt nothing but the pure, intoxicating euphoria of revenge. Die. Once I was dead, I would never have to be his “perfect wife” ever again.

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The day Terry dragged me into the operating room, I clutched my prenatal scan and wept. “Please, spare our baby. She’s innocent.” He sneered, gripping my chin, “You, a murderer, dare to bear my child?” Later, he locked me in the basement for three years. I forgot how to speak, but I remembered humming a tuneless song to the iron bars every night. Until he knelt at the door, eyes bloodshot, clutching the truth in trembling hands: “Autumn…” I tilted my head, licking my grimy fingers, giggling softly: “The butterfly flew away, and so did the baby, you know.” Soon, everyone in the city knew: Terry Sterling had lost his mind. He watched over a woman who no longer recognized him, whispering endearments again and again. Meanwhile, in the penthouse suite, I cradled a faded doll, gazing out the window: “Shhh, the moon is going home.” 1 The basement door creaked open. I curled into a ball, shrinking deeper into the shadows. Someone was here, but it wasn’t the mute who brought my meals. “Autumn…” It was Terry’s voice. He lifted me into his arms. My bones jutted against him; he seemed to stiffen. He carried me outside. The sky was a dull, leaden gray. This was the first time I’d seen the outside world in three years. The first time I’d seen the sky since Amelia’s suicide in my bedroom. “The moon…” I murmured, “The moon is going home.” The arms holding me tightened abruptly. Terry whispered, “Who is the moon?” I lowered my head, gently stroking my abdomen, where only thin skin clung to bone. I offered a faint smile: “She’s my little moon. I named her. She’s calling me, can you hear?” Terry’s steps faltered. I felt his entire body trembling. He cupped my face, studying me for a long moment, his lips parting and closing several times before he spoke: “It’s alright… Autumn, we’ll have other children.” His eyes were red, intensely red. How strange, could he cry too? I looked at his bloodshot eyes, but stubbornly shook my head: “I only want my little moon. She’s afraid of the dark, I need to be with her.” Terry’s head snapped up, turning to the person in the white coat beside him. The doctor adjusted his glasses: “Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Sterling has endured prolonged confinement and severe emotional trauma, leading to significant cognitive regression and stress disorder. Her current intellectual capacity is roughly at a childlike stage.” Childlike? I blinked. My little moon, if she had been born, would be blinking now too. I was taken to a vast house, ablaze with the blinding light of crystal chandeliers. “It hurts… it hurts so much!” I covered my eyes, burying my face in my knees. “Turn them off! Turn off all the lights! Now!” Terry’s voice roared, laced with panic and chaos. Instantly, darkness enveloped me. Only a faint, hazy light filtered in from outside the window. He came over, drawing me into his embrace. “Let me see, Autumn, let me see your eyes.” His voice was low, trying to soothe me. He gently forced my head up. My face was wet; were those tears? I didn’t know. His forehead gently touched mine, our breaths mingling. I smelled his unfamiliar, expensive scent, mixed with a faint trace of blood – was it mine? Or someone else’s? “I’m sorry,” he rasped. Then, he carried me to the bathroom to bathe. I looked at my reflection in the mirror, gaunt and skeletal, my shoulder blades seeming to strain against my skin, eager to break free. Terry held me, sobbing softly, warm liquid trailing down my shoulder. During the bath, the tub was filled with little yellow rubber ducks. I picked one up, squeezed it, and it let out a “quack.” I laughed, squeezing it repeatedly, making it “quack-quack-quack.” Terry knelt by the tub, sleeves rolled up, carefully using a washcloth to clean me. His movements were clumsy, splashing water everywhere. He watched me play with the duck, his eyes a tumultuous sea of emotions I couldn’t decipher. After the bath, he wrapped me in a thick towel and carried me to the large vanity mirror. The woman in the mirror was emaciated, her wet hair plastered to a pallid face, eyes wide and vacant. He picked up the hairdryer, his long fingers threading through my damp hair. I stared blankly at his profile in the mirror; he was still so handsome, yet shrouded in a heavy shadow. My gaze suddenly fell upon my wrist. The towel slipped slightly, revealing a bony wrist crisscrossed with several grotesque scars. When had these appeared? I couldn’t remember, only that they hurt, more than hunger, more than the cold. “Ugly…” I flinched, trying to hide my wrist, “So ugly…” Terry’s movements stilled. He followed my gaze, his body instantly rigid. The hairdryer hummed, hot air blowing on a small patch of skin, slowly growing warm. He abruptly switched off the hairdryer. The bathroom fell silent. He gripped my wrist, looking at the scars for a very long time. “Not ugly,” he said suddenly. Then, he lowered his head, his cool lips, incredibly gently, pressing a kiss onto the deepest of those scars. A damp, warm sensation registered, but I flinched as if branded, trying to yank my hand away with force. My reaction seemed to wound him. He lifted his eyes, seeing my frightened look, and suddenly asked, “Would you… would you not be afraid of me if I were just like you?” I didn’t understand. I just stared at him in fear. He released my hand, straightened up, his gaze sweeping across the spacious vanity. Then, he picked up a silver eyebrow razor. The blade reflected a faint glimmer of light. The first stroke, across his pale wrist, a thin red line quickly emerged, widening. The second, overlapping. Blood beads welled up, merging, then flowing down in gushes, dripping onto the marble counter. The third… He didn’t stop, his expression eerily calm. The fresh scent of blood diffused into the air. I watched, numbly, as the crimson liquid snaked down. Then, I laughed. Blood still flowed from Terry’s wrist, but he smiled. “Autumn, we’re the same now.” Then, he stepped forward, pulling me into his arms with all his strength. He held me so tightly, I could barely breathe. His face was buried in my damp hair, hot liquid falling onto the skin of my neck. “I’ll atone,” he whispered. “Please, let me atone.” 2 Terry canceled all his work, dedicating himself to my 24/7 care. The room was filled with things I used to love. I was still afraid of light; even during the day, the heavy curtains had to be drawn. The slightest sound made me flinch. Ever since leaving the basement, I had nightmares every night. The cold operating table, the blinding lights, and the icy pain in my lower abdomen. “Autumn, wake up.” Terry took my hand. I clutched his sleeve tightly, crying out incoherently, “Terry… save me…” His body jolted, then he hugged me fiercely: “I’m here! Autumn, I’m here! I’ll save you, I’ll always be here!” He seemed incredibly happy, so happy he was almost crying. I snapped awake. My eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing his face so close. My mind was blank. I pulled away from him, grabbed the vase from the bedside table, and threw it at him. He didn’t dodge; it hit his head with a dull thud. The vase didn’t break, rolling onto the carpet. He froze, motionless. Blood streamed from his temple, across his eyebrow, dripping onto his pajamas. The door burst open, and the people waiting outside rushed in, staring blankly at the scene. Terry seemed to finally feel the pain. He lifted a hand to wipe at it, saw the blood, but didn’t even glance at the newcomers, his eyes fixed on me. “Get out,” he ordered. “Everyone, out.” They looked at him, then at me, before retreating and closing the door. We were alone again. The scent of blood filled the room. I was still trembling, but I glared at him without restraint. He took a towel from the bathroom and pressed it to his head; the white towel quickly turned crimson. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice low, as if coaxing a child, “I’ll be right back.” He turned and walked out, his steps a little unsteady. The door wasn’t fully closed; I heard the doctor outside gasp in horror: “Mr. Sterling, your wound needs stitches. Your wife’s condition is too dangerous; she’s exhibiting aggressive behavior. She needs to be admitted to a specialized psychiatric hospital…” “No,” Terry cut him off, his voice sounding tired, “Treat it here.” “But…” “I said, no.” His voice deepened, “She’s not going anywhere. She stays here.” After a pause, he added: “I won’t let her leave my side again.” 3 The doctor treated Terry’s wound in the next room. “Mr. Sterling,” the doctor couldn’t help but speak, “Mrs. Sterling’s condition, if I may be frank, doesn’t seem to be merely simple psychological trauma. Was there… anything else that happened back then?” Terry leaned back in the chair, eyes closed. The wound on his forehead throbbed. “It was me. All my fault.” The doctor’s hand paused; he looked up at him. After the wound was dressed, he led the doctor back to my room. I was huddled in the corner of the bed, hugging my knees. Terry walked over, reaching to touch my shoulder, but I flinched violently, recoiling. His hand stopped mid-air, slowly retracting, and he nodded at the doctor. The doctor approached to examine me. His brow furrowed deeper and deeper. Finally, he put away his stethoscope, glanced at Terry, who stood by, and shook his head. “Mr. Sterling, Mrs. Sterling’s condition… is not optimistic.” “Severe malnutrition; this isn’t recent. On her body… there are multiple old contusions and soft tissue injuries, some already scarred. Mentally, her stress response is extremely strong, with clear signs of post-traumatic disorder. She exhibits severe fear and wariness towards the outside world, especially towards you.” With each sentence, Terry’s face grew paler. By the end, he was almost devoid of color. “In summary,” the doctor sighed, “Mrs. Sterling seems to have been in an… abusive environment for a long time. This has greatly exacerbated her psychological trauma, and recovery will be very difficult.” “Abuse?” Terry repeated the word. The doctor nodded, saying no more, leaving recommendations for nutritional supplements and nerve-calming medication, then departed. The room was deathly silent. Terry stood there for a long time before slowly walking to the bedside. I burrowed deeper into the covers. He stopped a step away, not coming closer, only looking at me with that almost shattered gaze for a while, then turned and walked out. Outside the door, the old butler stood with bowed head. “Alfred,” Terry began, “Three years ago, I had her confined to the basement. What were my instructions?” The butler’s back bent even lower: “You ordered to keep her well, not to let her leave, and to deliver meals on time.” “And what else?” “…Nothing else, sir.” “I never said she could be starved, or beaten, or left with those scars on her body, did I?” Terry’s voice wasn’t loud, but it was suffocating. Cold sweat beaded on the butler’s forehead: “Sir, I… I followed your orders. Meals, cleaning… As for anything else, I, I truly had no knowledge! It must have been those scoundrels beneath me, seeing Mrs.—seeing Miss Hayes—fallen from grace, misinterpreting your intentions, and acting so brazenly! My supervision was lax, I…” “Alfred,” Terry cut him off, rubbing his temples wearily, “You’ve been with my family for thirty years.” The butler fell silent, bowing his head even lower. “You’re dismissed,” Terry said. “Out of respect for the past thirty years, your pension will be provided. Give me the list of everyone who handled the basement, everyone who touched her, now, immediately.” The butler trembled, head snapping up: “Sir!” “The list.” Terry looked at him, the last trace of warmth vanishing from his eyes, “Don’t make me say it a third time.” Hours later, night had fallen thick and dark. Behind the Sterling estate, the heavy iron door of the disused old tool basement was tightly shut. Inside, muffled, jarring thuds and short, stifled cries of agony could be faintly heard, intermittently, for a long time. Finally, the iron door was pushed open from within. Terry emerged. His white shirt was splattered with blood. He walked slowly back to the main house, went upstairs, and entered the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, he put his hands under the stream, scrubbing vigorously. The bloodstains blurred in the water, fading, flowing down the drain. He looked up, meeting his reflection in the wall mirror. The man in the mirror was pale, a bandage on his temple, lips tightly pressed. He gazed at that unfamiliar self. For a long time. Suddenly, he balled his fist and slammed it hard into the mirror. “CRASH—!” The deafening sound was piercing in the night. The entire mirror shattered instantly, countless fragments reflecting countless cold, pale, blood-stained, and frantic versions of his face. He stood with his hands hanging, the knuckles scraped raw by the sharp shards, blood mixing with water, dripping little by little. 4 Under Terry’s care, my body slowly began to recover. The wound on his wrist, which hadn’t been properly treated, had become red and inflamed in some places. The doctor repeatedly urged him to go to the hospital. “No, she can’t be left alone.” In the end, the doctor had no choice but to clean and dress his wound on the spot. He always bore his injuries, carefully feeding me. I ate slowly, and he never rushed me; a single meal would take a long time. He seemed not to need sleep. When I woke up in the middle of the night, I would always see him sitting on the sofa nearby, working on his laptop. He was quiet when he worked, only the soft click of the keyboard. Sometimes, if I merely shifted, he would immediately look up, only turning back to his screen once he was sure I was asleep again. Once, likely due to an urgent company matter, he had to take a video call beside my bed. Watching the faces flicker on the screen, hearing those unfamiliar voices, an unprovoked anxiety surged through me. Before I even realized it, I had knocked the laptop from his lap onto the floor. The computer hit the carpet, and the video call abruptly cut off. Terry froze for a moment, then immediately stood up. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” “Don’t be afraid, Autumn, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have made noise here.” He patiently comforted me until my fingers, gripping the blanket, slowly relaxed. Then he rose, picked up the laptop, glanced at it, and set it aside. 5 It was a beautiful autumn afternoon, with bright sunshine. Terry went downstairs to handle some business. Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and a well-dressed, exquisitely made-up woman walked in, followed by two maids. She was Terry’s mother, Evelyn. Her gaze fell upon my loose nightgown, my dull, lifeless hair, and finally on my still-dazed face, her brow immediately furrowing, her distaste undisguised. “Terry, look at yourself! What a mess you’ve become!” “Neglecting the company, spending all your time with a…” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Ah—!!!” A shriek ripped uncontrollably from my throat. I grabbed everything within reach—the bedside lamp, a pillow—and threw them at her with all my might! “Get out! Get away! Don’t come near me!!” Evelyn staggered back, her face ashen with fury: “Insolent! She’s truly insane! Guards! Someone! Hold this madwoman down! Call Crestwood Asylum immediately! Get her out of here!” The two maids hesitated, then moved forward, trying to grab me as I shrieked and thrashed, throwing things everywhere. “Everyone, stop right there!” Terry rushed in, fiercely shielding me behind him. “Anyone dares to touch her, just try me.” “Terry! What kind of attitude is that?! Look at her! Look at the state she’s in now! She’s a lunatic! A murderer! She killed your sister!” Evelyn trembled with rage. “She didn’t!” Terry’s veins pulsed on his forehead, “We both know the truth! You’re not innocent in what happened back then!” Evelyn’s face paled, then she grew even more enraged: “You… you’re abandoning your dead sister for this madwoman? You won’t even listen to your own mother? She has to go to the asylum! She’s a menace if she stays here!” “I said, no.” “No one is taking her.” “Mom, listen carefully. From now on, anyone who suggests sending her away is my enemy. That includes you.” Evelyn was stunned by the ruthlessness in his eyes, she stumbled back a step, staring at him in disbelief. “You… you’re going to spend your life with this… this murderer who killed your sister? Have you lost your mind too?!” Terry didn’t answer. After a long moment, Evelyn seemed to finally accept the reality, turning and storming out of the room.

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1 At the end of the college mixer, only the campus heartthrob, myself, and a very drunk girl remained in the lounge. The remaining crowd, eager to play matchmaker, proposed a final game: whoever guessed John’s favorite fruit would be paired up with him for the upcoming week-long camping trip. I pretended not to care, stepping back to let the other girl choose first. When I saw her holding a half-burnt cigarette, lazily pointing her finger toward the bowl of mangoes, a quiet wave of relief washed over me. John was severely allergic to mangoes. Everyone in our circle knew this, and all eyes instantly turned to me. The room erupted into eager teasing. “The golden boy and the campus sweetheart, it’s a match made in heaven!” My best friend leaned in, whispering her congratulations. “Four years of a secret crush, and you finally get your happy ending.” But in the next second, John’s smooth, quiet voice broke the noise. “What a coincidence.” He opened his hand, turning his gaze toward the drunk girl with an unfamiliar tenderness. “My choice just happened to be mango, too.” The girl was still deeply intoxicated. Without warning, she swung her hand and slapped John across the face. “So you chose mango, big deal. Why the hell are you standing so close to me?” The slap echoed sharply through the quiet room. The entire lounge went dead silent. After all, John was the golden boy of our department, someone who had casually turned down major modeling scouts in his sophomore year. A bright red handprint was already blooming on his pale, handsome cheek. One of his fraternity brothers rushed forward to de-escalate. “John, don’t take it to heart. Roxy goes to the local community college down the road. She smokes, she drinks, she races, she’s a wild card. She’s not targeting you, she’s just completely wasted.” Someone else tried to nudge me toward him, giving John a subtle wink. “Amy is still waiting for you. Come on, we agreed this mixer was to get everyone paired up…” “Roxy,” John said, ignoring them entirely. He leaned down slightly, speaking to the girl in a soft, coaxing tone usually reserved for a child. “The others suggested that whoever guessed my favorite fruit would be my partner for the trip.” “You chose mango.” “And as it turns out, mango is my favorite.” He stood in the dim light of the lounge, wearing a crisp white shirt and dark trousers. His handsome features were calm, almost detached, but the tight line of his jaw betrayed his inner tension. He swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. After a long pause, his voice sounded strained and slightly hoarse. “So, starting tonight, you are my girlfriend.” I stood frozen in place. I stared at his profile, a sudden, heavy confusion pressing on my chest. I couldn’t stop myself from asking the one question on my mind. “John… aren’t you allergic to mangoes?” The moment the words escaped my lips, a pang of regret hit me. Asking that now made it sound as though I were demanding to know why he hadn’t chosen me. I quickly averted my eyes, clearing my throat to regain a sense of composure. “I mean, it’s not really a secret. Most people in our year know about it.” Gemma, my best friend, immediately caught my drift and chimed in to support me. John finally looked away from the drunk girl, his gaze cool and indifferent as he glanced at me. “I’m not allergic anymore. Is it a crime to like mangoes now?” He looked back at Roxy, his tone softening. “Besides, I chose my fruit and put it in my pocket a minute before either of you made your choice. Since we agreed to play, we should all follow the rules of the game.” Roxy blinked, her eyes clearing slightly as she seemed to sober up. She reached up, pinching John’s cheek with a lazy smile. “Alright then, boyfriend.” I swallowed the bitter taste rising in my throat. Forcing a polite smile, I turned on my heel. “Of course. That means for tomorrow’s couples’ rowing race, I’ll just form a solo team.” It wasn’t until we reached the parking lot that Gemma finally let out her frustration, grabbing my arm. “If I had known, I would have told you to choose mango! You’ve had a crush on him for four years, and this was your chance…” “It wouldn’t have mattered,” I replied quietly, a dull ache settling behind my eyes. “Earlier, John’s jacket was draped over my bag. When I lifted it to get my things, I noticed the pockets were incredibly heavy.” Under Gemma’s shocked expression, I took a deep breath, a bitter smile touching my lips. “He had put one of every single fruit from the table into his pockets.” He didn’t suddenly develop a love for mangoes. He had simply decided that whatever Roxy chose, he would match it. After Gemma helped me into a cab, she headed back to the lounge. With graduation just around the corner, our senior class had organized this week-long camping trip specifically to bring people together. The rule of the trip was simple: if a couple felt a spark after seven days, they stayed together; if not, they parted ways without any hard feelings. Gemma had gone to great lengths to get paired up with her crush, even buying drinks for the entire organizing committee to secure her slot. I couldn’t let my own disappointment ruin her week. By the time I unlocked the door to my apartment, my rational mind had slowly returned. Lying on the sofa of my quiet, comfortable living room, a dark thought crept into my mind. Was this some kind of cosmic retribution? Because of the secret, less-than-respectable way I used to make money when I was desperate, was I now destined to never find real love? During my freshman year, when I was at my poorest, I had taken on a very unusual gig. At first, it was simple: ten thousand dollars just to deliver a slap. But as the weeks went by, the anonymous client’s requests escalated. He wanted me to pin him down, to choke him, and to hit him. The pay rose to fifty thousand dollars per session. I wanted to refuse. But the money was simply too life-changing for a girl from a rural town who was living with distant relatives and counting every penny. And so, my double life began. By day, I was the quiet, hardworking model student on campus. By night, I let my hair down, wore a thick black mask, and went to a secluded apartment to fulfill a stranger’s dark impulses. This arrangement lasted for over six months, allowing me to save enough to buy this very apartment and secure my college tuition. Just as I was trying to figure out how to gently end the arrangement, the client vanished. His profile on the encrypted app went dark and never lit up again. Worried that something had happened to him, I went to the apartment one last time. The place was empty, but on the threshold of the door, I found a single, heavy black-and-gold bead. It had rained heavily that day. And just like that, my strange connection with a man I had never truly seen came to an abrupt end. I shook my head, trying to banish the memories that still made my cheeks burn. I reminded myself that whatever happened in that room was a mutual transaction. I hadn’t done anything wrong. Besides, there was no rule stating that because you love someone in secret, they have to love you back. John was free to choose whoever he wanted. I just needed to learn to let him go. But despite my practical thoughts, I spent the night crying, flipping through the old journal filled with his name. In the end, I still couldn’t bring myself to throw it away. The next morning, everyone gathered at the departure point looking polished and excited. I was the only one wearing oversized sunglasses that covered half my face. One of our classmates teased me as we waited. “Amy, what kind of guy are you actually into? So many people have tried to ask you out over the last four years, but you’ve never given any of them a chance.” Before I could think of a polite answer, a loud laugh from the parking lot drew everyone’s attention. Roxy, her hair dyed a vibrant red, was skipping alongside John, clinging tightly to his arm. “Matching tattoos!” she cooed, tugging at his sleeve. “Don’t you think that would be so cool?” John carried his duffel bag over one shoulder, looking relaxed and completely devoted. He smiled down at her. “Only if you promise me that when this week is over, we don’t break up.” Roxy gave a playful pout and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her bag. Under the watchful eyes of our classmates, John quietly produced a lighter and shielded the flame as he lit it for her. Whispers immediately broke out around me. “Is he serious? It was bad enough that she crashed the party last night, but is he really going to let her smoke right by the bus?” “She’s a mess. I don’t get what John sees in her. Everyone was trying to set him up with Amy last night. They actually make sense together, both top of the class, both decent people…” I adjusted my sunglasses, preparing to board the bus. But Gemma couldn’t keep quiet. She called out toward Roxy, her voice sharp. “There’s no smoking near the vehicles!” The rest of our classmates quickly muttered their agreement, their expressions turning disapproving as they looked at John. The atmosphere grew incredibly tense. Roxy tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as she walked straight toward Gemma. “And who the hell are you to tell me what to do?” Looking at the glowing tip of her cigarette, a cold memory surfaced. I remembered the days when girls like her used to corner me in the alleyways behind my high school. Roxy had spent time in juvenile detention when she was fifteen. She was the kind of person who didn’t care about consequences. I stepped in front of Gemma, blocking Roxy’s path. “She’s right. Smoking near a commercial bus is a safety hazard. If you don’t understand basic rules, I can easily call the campus security to explain them to you.” Roxy seemed surprised that I, usually the quietest person in the room, was standing up to her. “We’re not taking the bus anyway,” John interrupted coldly, his gaze sliding over me with an unfamiliar aloofness. “This is still a public parking lot. I don’t think the smoking ban applies to your personal space, Amy.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. It felt entirely foreign. Over the past four years, we had co-hosted dozens of university events together, and he had always been nothing but gentle and polite. Under the hot morning sun, I knew my face must have gone pale. “Wow,” Roxy sneered, stepping closer and blowing a thick cloud of smoke directly into my face. “And here I thought you had actually grown a spine. You’re still the same pretty, useless coward you were in high school.” With John watching, she flicked the half-lit cigarette bud directly at my bare legs. I jumped back to avoid the hot ash. Roxy burst into a loud laugh, grabbing John’s hand and pulling him toward a waiting rideshare car in the opposite direction. My phone buzzed with a text from my building’s manager just as I settled into my seat on the bus. Do you still want the cardboard box left outside your door? My fingers hovered over the screen. I thought of the journals I had spent the night reading, and the small birthday gifts John had given me over the years. This morning, I had hesitated, leaving the box in the hallway instead of throwing it into the chute. But remembering his cold eyes in the parking lot, I didn’t hesitate any longer. No, it’s just trash. Please throw it away for me. Thank you. A multi-car accident on the mountain pass delayed the buses for several hours. By the time we reached the lake, the sun had already set. The planned afternoon rowing race had to be postponed to the following morning, but the group remained in high spirits, gathering around the fire pits for a late-night barbecue. Throughout the evening, I made a conscious effort to keep my distance from John and Roxy. But as I was carrying a tray of grilled vegetables back to our table, Roxy stepped directly into my path, her chin tilted up. “Hey. I heard you submitted a resume to Vanguard Corp.” I didn’t want to engage. I tried to step around her. “Excuse me.” “Withdraw it,” Roxy said, grabbing my wrist with surprising force. A mocking smile played on her lips. “You do know that Vanguard is owned by John’s family, right?” I pulled my arm back, annoyed. “Vanguard is one of the top marketing agencies in the city. Half our graduating class applied there. Are you saying none of us are allowed to work?” I gave her a polite, dismissive smile. “I’ve already received my offer, and my start date is next month. I won’t be withdrawing anything.” “Don’t act so innocent!” Roxy’s voice rose, drawing the attention of the surrounding tables. “Are you really that desperate to stay close to John?” Seeing that she had an audience, her tone became more theatrical. “Everyone has been calling you two the perfect couple for years, so I get why my presence upsets you. But the truth is, he never looked at you once in four years. He chose me after knowing me for a few days.” “If you want to prove you’re not trying to steal him, you’ll stay away from his family’s company.” A hot flush of embarrassment crept up my neck. Just as I opened my mouth to respond, Roxy’s heel seemed to catch on the gravel. With a dramatic gasp, she tumbled backward, crashing straight into one of the side tables. John was by her side in an instant, dropping the plates he was holding. He pushed past me, his movements fluid and urgent as he caught Roxy before she hit the ground. Once he saw she was unhurt, he let out a visible breath of relief. “She pushed me!” Roxy cried, clinging to his shirt. “I told you she hated me!” “It’s alright,” John whispered, gently brushing her hair away from her face before turning to face me. He stood up, looking down at me in silence for a long moment. “It wasn’t me,” I said, looking down at my own leg, which had been scraped against the edge of a chair during the scurry. “I didn’t…” “I know you didn’t,” John said, his voice entirely calm. I looked up, surprised by his words, only to hear him continue. “But the fact that Roxy is willing to hurt herself just to frame you shows how much your presence distresses her.” He paused, his eyes falling to the scratch on my leg. He seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before his voice turned cold again. “I know Vanguard was your dream job, Amy. But…” He looked away. “I’ve already called my father. Your job offer at Vanguard has been rescinded.” Before I could even process the words, John turned back to Roxy, lifting her up. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I didn’t care about keeping up appearances anymore. I limped forward, fully intending to slap him across the face. But as I drew closer, I heard him speaking to Roxy in a low, gentle tone. “If something is bothering you, just tell me. Don’t hurt yourself to get my attention, alright?” He took off his light jacket, draping it over her shoulders. Under the dim lights of the patio, as his shirt lifted slightly with the movement, I caught sight of his midriff. Right there, on his abdominal muscles, was a small, distinct dark mole. It was in the exact same spot, the exact same size, as the one on the man from five years ago. My breath caught in my throat. Then, John reached into his pocket and pulled out a heavy beaded bracelet made of black and gold beads, missing a single piece. He placed it in Roxy’s hand. “Back then, my family found out about my condition and forced me to go abroad for treatment before I could say goodbye to you. I left that single bead at the door, hoping it would lead me back to you one day.” “I was lucky. During our last session, you dropped your high school name tag at the apartment. That’s how I knew your name was Roxy, and how I finally found you.” Roxy looked at the bracelet, a flicker of confusion crossing her face. Gemma, who had rushed over to defend me, stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the beads in John’s hand. She looked at the bracelet, then turned her eyes to me, her voice filled with surprise. “Wait… Amy, isn’t the bead you keep in your velvet box exactly like the ones on that bracelet?”

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1 The company was conducting a strict audit on workplace relationships, and my boyfriend’s name was on the review list. He hurried over to my desk, his voice a frantic whisper. “Make sure absolutely no one finds out about us. If they catch us, one of us will have to pack our bags. You don’t want to lose your job, do you?” He had no idea that I already had a safety net. If push came to shove, I could simply reveal that I was the Chairman’s daughter. Who would dare fire us then? But the very next morning, the audit results were posted. I was about to call in a favor to clear his name, but when I reached the bulletin board, I froze. On the official list of couples caught violating company policy, the name next to his was not mine. … The corridor was packed with employees, all murmuring and pointing at the board. “My god, Marcus and Audrey? They kept that incredibly quiet!” “No wonder they were always staying late and leaving together. It makes perfect sense now.” “Since HR posted it, it’s a hundred percent official.” Everyone was enjoying the gossip, but I stood there, cold to the bone, feeling like the biggest fool in the room. I turned around, determined to confront Marcus. As soon as I raised my head, I saw him rushing toward me. Before I could say a word, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the emergency stairwell. I stared at him, suppressing my fury and heartbreak, waiting for a logical explanation. Instead, he looked at me and issued a flat command. “Vivian, you need to go to the department manager right now and clear this up.” My voice was icy. “Clear what up?” He spoke as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Tell the manager that HR made a mistake. Tell her that you are my actual girlfriend, not Audrey. After you tell her, hand in your resignation and leave.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. A tremor of pure rage shook my voice. “On what grounds? The bulletin board clearly states that Audrey is your girlfriend! Why should I take the blame, and why should I be the one to leave?” He didn’t show a single hint of remorse. “Audrey just graduated. She has no experience, and if she gets fired for a policy violation, she’ll never find another decent job. You’re different. Your sales numbers are excellent and your resume is stellar. Even if you resign, you’ll land on your feet in no time.” With those words, the last lingering trace of affection I had for him vanished. From beginning to end, he hadn’t considered my feelings for a second. His entire mind was consumed with protecting Audrey, making sure she was safe and secure. I looked him in the eye, my voice trembling with indignation. “Let’s put the resignation aside for a moment. Don’t you think you owe me an explanation about what exactly is going on between you and Audrey?” He knitted his brows, his tone turning dismissive. “There’s nothing to explain. The system made a mistake. It’s a glitch.” A bitter laugh escaped my throat. “A glitch? The company doesn’t put names on that board unless they have undeniable proof of intimacy. Why on earth would they randomly name Audrey as your partner?” Marcus’s face turned white, and then he flared up in anger, trying to cover his guilt. “Why is your mind so toxic? Must you always assume the worst?” “You were the ones caught behaving inappropriately,” I countered, refusing to back down. “Instead of apologizing to me, your first instinct is to force me out of the company to clear her path.” “If you two are as innocent as you claim, why are you risking your own career to shield her?” My words hit their mark, leaving him completely speechless. He let out a frustrated growl. “We’ve been together for two whole years! Do you really have this little trust in me?” I watched his defensive, angry face, and my heart turned entirely cold. I knew him well enough to recognize that he only became this hysterical when the truth was laid bare. The betrayal was real, clear and undeniable. Without a trace of hesitation, I spoke in a quiet, firm voice. “Don’t try to use our two years together to guilt me. I am not going to the manager, and I am not resigning. The person leaving this company won’t be me.” “I’d like to see just how deep your devotion goes, and which one of you will volunteer to walk away first.” Marcus glared at me, his eyes burning with resentment. “Vivian! If you don’t clear this up today, don’t you dare come crawling back to me. I will never speak to you again!” I didn’t waste another second. I pushed the heavy door open and walked out. At the morning meeting the following day, the department manager, Evelyn, stood at the podium. Her eyes immediately locked onto me. “Vivian, stand up.” I stood, a sudden sense of foreboding tightening in my chest. “Following an internal review,” Evelyn announced coldly, “the company has decided to terminate your employment effective immediately due to ethical misconduct.” My ears rang, but I forced my voice to remain steady. “On what grounds are you firing me?” Evelyn’s expression was blank. “We have received a formal statement indicating that you intentionally instructed your boyfriend, Marcus, to pursue Audrey in order to use her as a scapegoat for your own workplace relationship.” “And where is your proof?” My voice shook with a mix of anger and disbelief. “The couple on the bulletin board was caught in a clear compromise. Now you’re trying to pin the blame on me?” I stared directly at her, and the conference room erupted into frantic whispers. Marcus suddenly stood up, looking like the victim of a grave injustice. “I am the proof!” he called out, his voice echoing in the room. “When the audit began, I wanted to resign to protect Vivian. But she refused. She repeatedly ordered me to get close to Audrey, even threatening to break up with me if I didn’t comply.” “I thought it was strange at the time, but now I see she wanted a shield. Vivian, how could you be so malicious? I must have been blind to stay with you for two years!” Audrey stood up next, her eyes rimmed with red. “Vivian, I always looked up to you like an older sister. How could you use me to save yourself?” She looked entirely fragile and betrayed. The whispers in the room turned into a wave of quiet condemnation. “I can’t believe Vivian would do something like that. She’s so manipulative.” “She always seemed so capable, but to do something this low behind the scenes…” “Poor Audrey, she’s just a new hire and got dragged into this mess.” The accusations came from every corner of the room. I looked at Zach. I was the one who had hired him, guiding him through his first projects and taking him out for dinner when clients yelled at him. Yet, his voice was currently the loudest in the chorus of disapproval. I looked at Brenda. Last year, when her low performance put her on the chopping block, I had handed her a major account to save her job. Now, she was looking at me with nothing but disgust. The other junior colleagues, whom I had mentored from their internship days, simply kept their heads down, refusing to meet my eyes. I ignored the rest of the room and looked back at Evelyn. “The company policy states that when a relationship is discovered, the team votes on who should leave. Why am I being terminated directly without a vote?” Evelyn let out a dry, dismissive laugh. “Because we just conducted the vote. It was a unanimous decision for you to leave.” I stared at the familiar faces around me, completely stunned. For two years, I had gone out of my way to help almost everyone in this room. Yet, in my moment of need, not a single person was willing to speak for me. “Why?” I asked, my voice barely a whisper. “What did I ever do to any of you?” Marcus stepped forward, his tone dripping with mockery. “You really want to know why? Because you’re the top sales representative, and you think that makes you better than everyone else. You’ve been ordering us around for years, and we’re tired of it!” “I was trying to teach you how to handle clients so we could all reach our targets!” I argued, my anger finally breaking through. “Nobody wanted your charity! Stop acting like a saint!” he barked back. I took a deep, steadying breath, letting my gaze sweep over the room one last time. “Fine. If this is what you’ve decided, I’ll go.” I picked up my notebook from the table, speaking clearly. “I will remember today. I look forward to our next meeting.” I walked back to my desk and began packing my personal belongings into a cardboard box. Before I could finish, the sharp click of high heels approached. Audrey stood beside my desk, looking down at me with an unmistakable air of triumph. “I’m so sorry, sister,” she whispered, her voice too low for the others to hear. “But you lost.” “Your boyfriend is mine, and your job belongs to me now, too.” I kept packing, ignoring her completely. Seeing that she couldn’t bait me, she leaned down, her lips brushing my ear. “Marcus was tired of you a long time ago. He complained to me every day about how domineering and rigid you are. He said you have absolutely no warmth. He wanted to break up months ago, but he just didn’t want to deal with the drama.” My hands paused for a fraction of a second. Domineering? When he was pursuing me, he had praised my independence and strong-willed nature, calling me a breath of fresh air compared to the clingy women he usually met. Now, the very qualities he claimed to admire were the reasons he despised me. I pushed the hurt aside, picked up my box, and walked toward the exit. At the end of the hallway, Marcus was waiting. He took a quick step forward, reaching out to take the heavy box from my arms. “Let me help you carry that to your car.” I looked at him, my eyes cold. “Get lost.” The gentle expression on his face instantly vanished, replaced by an ugly scowl. “Don’t act so high and mighty! Fine, we’re done! I’ve had enough of your terrible attitude anyway!” “You’re a controlling, cold woman who doesn’t know how to treat a partner! I’m the only guy who would have tolerated you for two years! Any other man would have dumped you on day one! With your personality, you’re destined to end up completely alone!” I watched his bitter tirade in silence. This was the man I had loved for two years, the man I had planned to protect by revealing my identity to my father. And now, he was throwing dirt on my name to make himself feel better about his own betrayal. I didn’t waste my breath arguing. I walked past him and left the building. When I arrived home, my father was sitting on the sofa reading the financial section. He looked up, surprised. “Back early today?” “I was fired,” I said quietly. The paper slipped from his hands, clattering onto the coffee table. He stared at me in disbelief. “Who dared fire you? Didn’t they know who you are?” “No one knew,” I replied, shaking my head. After a brief silence, I looked at him. “Dad, about taking over the family business. I’ve made up my mind. I’ll take the position starting next Monday.” My father’s face relaxed into a proud, satisfied smile. “Excellent. I’ve been waiting to hear those words for a long time.” By the time Monday morning arrived, I was ready. I walked through the lobby of the corporate tower. Near the elevators, I ran into Audrey and Marcus. Audrey stopped in her tracks when she saw me, then immediately nudged Marcus with her elbow. Marcus looked at me, his lip curling into a sneer. “Well, look who it is. Trying to pull off cheap knock-offs to look professional?” “Did you come back to beg for your job back after getting kicked out by a unanimous vote?” Audrey covered her mouth, let out a high-pitched laugh. “Vivian, if you had just swallowed your pride and apologized earlier, you wouldn’t have been humiliated like this.” She smirked. “Though, I suppose it’s not too late. If you ask me nicely, I might speak to Evelyn and see if we can get you an entry-level internship so you can pay your rent.” I ignored them, walking toward the secure gates of the office. Before I could scan my pass, Evelyn rushed out from her office, blocking my way. She looked me up and down, her voice sharp. “What are you doing here? This is private property!” “The new Group President is arriving for an inspection today! The entire executive team is waiting! We don’t have time to deal with disgruntled ex-employees!” “You’ve been terminated. Leave immediately before I have security throw you out!” She raised her voice, calling out to the lobby. “Security! Get over here and escort this woman out of the building!” She turned back to me, her tone mocking. “If I were you, I’d leave on my own. Even if you get down on your knees and beg, I am not hiring you back!” Evelyn’s voice grew louder, bordering on a screech. “Security! Where are you? Get her out of here!” Just then, the heavy glass doors of the main lobby opened. Arthur Henderson, the Chief Executive Secretary of Kensington Enterprises, walked in with a measured, confident stride. Evelyn’s hostile expression vanished instantly, replaced by a fawning, obsequious smile as she rushed to greet him. “Mr. Henderson! You’re here! Is the new President on their way? We are fully prepared to receive them!” Marcus and Audrey also stepped forward, bowing politely. “Good morning, Mr. Henderson! Thank you for coming!” The rest of the staff lined up, eager to make a good impression. But Arthur Henderson ignored them completely. He walked straight through the crowd of executives, stopping right in front of me. The entire lobby went dead silent. In the next second, Mr. Henderson bowed deeply to me. “Good morning, Ms. Kensington. I am terribly sorry for the delay. The traffic on the bridge was awful, and I’ve kept you waiting.” The smiles on everyone’s faces froze instantly, their eyes widening in complete shock. “Who… who did you call her?”

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