As the first zoologist to discover the mythical Harpies, my life was once shattered by fate. In my past life, I passed the entrance exam and partnered with the brilliant Stella for an overseas fellowship. Together, we won the highest international award, hailed as a dream team. But our success drove her envious junior colleague, Toby, to overdose. The night before our return, Stella made a televised accusation, claiming I had sold our national research to a foreign corporation. “You stole Toby’s study materials and pushed him to fail!” she cried, calling me a traitor unworthy of science. Only then did I realize she had stolen my father’s research, ruining his reputation. He died in disgrace. My mother, tricked by Stella into entering a wild reserve to help me, was killed by wolves, leaving no remains. The forged “traitor’s agreement” sealed my fate. No institution would take me, and I fell from promising scholar to a homeless wanderer abroad. One snowy winter night, I froze to death on the street, my life over in half a month. Now, back from hell with bitter memories, I held back. In the selection exam, I carefully scored second place. Watching Stella and her protégé celebrate on the results board, I smiled coldly. This time, I’d watch from the sidelines and see who that coveted award would truly destroy. 1 “Toby got first place? Isn’t Oliver always the one who aces these things? Could it be true what Toby’s been saying, that Oliver was cheating all this time?” Toby held the printout with his top score high in the air, strutting around like a proud rooster. “Those little quizzes were just warm-ups. A high-level thesis discussion like today’s is what really separates the wheat from the chaff. It seems some people around here rely on cheap tricks to get by!” He shot a contemptuous glare directly at me. Everyone in our two-hundred-person research division knew I was the one who practically lived and died in the lab. This crucial selection was a fluke victory for him, a blind squirrel finding a nut, and he was going to milk it for all it was worth to grind me into the dust. I leaned against the wall, a humorless laugh escaping my lips. “The scores are right there for everyone to see. You can keep barking, but it won’t change the facts.” He bristled as if I’d stepped on his tail, then turned and sagged against Stella’s shoulder, his voice dripping with faux-pity. “Stella, look at him! The way he scoffs at me. I was just having an off-period before, that’s the only reason he ever got ahead!” Stella wrapped an arm around his shoulders, her eyes slicing towards me like shards of ice. “So, you stole Toby’s study materials and still couldn’t manage to take first. Lashing out now that you’re embarrassed, are we? Let’s see how long you can keep playing these dirty, back-alley games.” I raised an eyebrow, catching the flicker of calculation in her eyes. In that instant, it hit me. She’s been reborn, too. Whispers immediately erupted around us. “Oliver stole Toby’s notes? That’s messed up. No wonder Toby was always stuck in second place, he was being sabotaged!” “If someone at Stella’s level is saying it, it must be true. What a scumbag, using tricks like that to get ahead. Makes me sick!” The glares and sharp-edged insults rained down on me, but I didn’t even flinch. I walked over to a nearby bench and sat down, calmly waiting for the Director to arrive and make his selection. In my last life, it was because I’d so spectacularly taken first place that the Director had singled me out, kicking off the nightmare that allowed Stella to destroy my entire family. This time, I had no interest in being the nail that stuck out in this cesspool. When the Director entered with the results sheet, his brow furrowed into a knot. “How is Oliver second? I’ve reviewed his files from the past two years. His performance metrics have consistently been the best in the entire institute.” Toby immediately crossed his arms, sniffing disdainfully. “That’s only because he’s so conniving. He stole my core notes before the exam. Otherwise, first place would have always been mine!” I almost burst out laughing. In all our previous tests, he’d fought tooth and nail just to scrape into the top ten. One lucky break and he was acting like he was the next Einstein. My undisguised smirk infuriated Stella. She shot me a warning glare before turning to the Director, putting on her expert air. “Oliver’s test scores are admittedly good, but that doesn’t mean he has the scientific intuition to handle a project of this caliber.” “Toby and I have worked together in the lab countless times. Our synergy is unmatched. If he’s my partner, I guarantee the project’s progress will double in speed.” She was the lead researcher, handpicked for the project. Her words carried immense weight. It was a blatant power play: choose Toby, or she’d walk. Watching the proud, certain look on her face, so sure the Director would cave, a bottomless, cold amusement filled me. In my last life, our partnership was nothing like the harmonious duo the media portrayed. She barely even bothered to show up at the lab. The all-nighters that left my eyes bloodshot and burning? I pulled every single one of them alone. On the rare occasion she graced the lab with her presence, her only pastime was to stand aside and mock me. “Toby is my true soulmate in science. No one but him will ever touch my core data.” “You schemed your way into his spot, so this is what you get. Let’s see what world-shaking discoveries you can make all on your own.” This time, without me toiling away in the dark for her, I was eager to see what kind of “world-shaking” results she and the useless Toby could possibly produce. The Director, cornered, looked helpless. His gaze shifted between us, finally landing on me with a hint of regret. “But Oliver was the first to discover traces of that rare, harpy-like creature. The higher-ups were actually leaning towards having him lead the subsequent in-depth research.” 2 Stella’s face darkened instantly. The look in her eyes was like a poisoned blade, promising to devour me whole if I dared to nod in agreement. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already decided on a new research direction. And frankly, I have zero interest in partnering with Stella,” I said, cutting off any possibility of negotiation. The Director opened his mouth to try and persuade me, but Stella cut him off harshly. Her jaw twitched, a muscle pulsing in her cheek as she forced a cold laugh. “If he’s going to be so ungrateful, why waste your breath, Director? I wouldn’t want to share a room with a sewer rat who steals from his colleagues anyway.” “A ‘new research direction’… I wonder which poor soul he stole that from.” At that moment, Toby’s sharp eyes landed on the thick stack of files at my side. He gasped, covering his mouth theatrically. “You’re not going to work on the amphibious mutant species, are you? I’ve been the one leading that research! What you’re holding has to be the raw data I spent nights compiling!” “Oliver, have you no shame? Are you going to steal my hard work, too?” I casually flipped through the file, my gaze cold as I stared him down. “Stolen from you? Again? Toby, is it that your brain is so incapable of producing anything of value that you assume every research breakthrough in the world must have been stolen from you?” In all his years at the institute, he hadn’t even managed to win a third-rate regional prize. The jab hit its mark. His eyes reddened, and he shrank behind Stella like a wronged child. “It just looked familiar, I was just saying! I never said for sure that you stole it. Oliver, why do you have to humiliate me like that?” Stella hugged him protectively, patting his back as if soothing a puppy. Her glare at me was murderous. She lunged forward, snatched the file from my hands, and, in front of everyone, ripped it to shreds with a vicious shrrriiip. “It’s just a few scraps of paper! What’s the big deal? I could produce a dozen better proposals for Toby with my eyes closed. You enjoy twisting the knife, don’t you? Waving this in his face just to feel superior?” That was the culmination of six months of fieldwork, countless trips to remote observation sites. In her eyes, it was worth less than a single one of Toby’s crocodile tears. She turned to the Director, her tone an undisguised threat. “Do you see now? Oliver is nothing but a bully who preys on the weak. If the board insists on forcing me to partner with a piece of trash like him, I’ll quit the project altogether!” The Director panicked. The institute couldn’t afford to lose a star like Stella. He quickly capitulated. “Alright, alright! Toby it is. You and Toby will form the special research team.” Toby peeked out from behind Stella’s shoulder, shooting me a look of pure provocation and contempt. I just shrugged, turning to leave the toxic room. “Stop,” Stella’s voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air. She had regained her icy, superior composure. “Now that Toby is my partner, you will vacate your private lab for him. Also, you’ll take over all the menial tasks the Dean assigned him. He needs to be well-rested for the intense research ahead.” The sheer audacity of her gangster-like demands made me laugh. “My private lab was granted to me for winning a national gold medal last year. On what grounds should I give it to him? And why should I be his free labor for the work he’s supposed to do?” In this brutally competitive institute, only top-tier researchers who had won national-level honors or higher were granted a private lab. It wasn’t just about resources; it was a symbol of status. Toby didn’t deserve it. The administration had considered making an exception for him once, pulling strings just for him. But then I won that prestigious gold medal. Stella herself had marched into the Dean’s office and, with a grand gesture, donated a fortune to outfit it with state-of-the-art equipment, turning it into a world-class facility as a “surprise” for me. “Oliver, this is my first big gift to you. Be a good boy, and there’ll be more where that came from.” Those words, once spoken with a mix of pride and tenderness, now dripped with nothing but ice. “I’m the one who funded that lab for you. Now, I’m taking it back. Because you are no longer worthy of it.” That single sentence was a dull, rusty knife carving a bloody, ragged wound in my chest. I clenched my jaw, swallowing the metallic taste of blood that rose in my throat, and answered, word by word. “Fine. The lab is his. But as for the Dean’s assignments, I won’t write a single damn comma for him.” That lab was filled with her presence, with things that were never truly mine. They felt tainted. I was ready to leave it all behind. 3 I scrolled to the very bottom of my contact list, found the number I hadn’t touched in years, took a deep breath, and hit dial. “You once told me you wanted me as your permanent partner. Does that offer still stand?” There was no hesitation on the other end, just a clear, steady female voice. “That spot by my side has always been yours, Oliver. You just had to say the word.” Harper. The genius researcher who had swept countless international awards. In our last life, she had delayed her entire project waiting for me to come to my senses, ultimately costing her that year’s top global prize. This time, we would finally fight side by side. After hanging up, I immediately began the paperwork for a transfer to Munich. As I walked out of the HR office, clutching a thick stack of handover documents, I ran straight into Stella and Toby. Toby’s sharp eyes caught the “Overseas Transfer Application” printed on my folder. He let out an exaggerated, cold laugh. “And here I thought you had some backbone, that you’d actually give up on Stella. Turns out you’re just going to shamelessly follow us abroad? Have you no dignity?” Stella let out a derisive snort, her eyes filled with a lofty pity. “Oliver, why do you insist on torturing yourself? Even if you follow me across the world like a stray dog, I won’t give you a second glance.” I calmly flipped the file over, showing them the name of the receiving party. “I’m going abroad because I’ve found a new partner. This has absolutely nothing to do with you.” When Toby saw the thunderous name on the document—Harper—he froze, then burst into even harsher laughter. “You barely scraped second place in our own institute’s selection, and you think a god-tier researcher like Harper would even look at you? She’s at the absolute pinnacle of our field. You couldn’t come up with a more ridiculous lie if you tried!” Stella, however, stared at the name, her expression shifting like a volatile storm. I had no time for their games and was about to walk around them when Stella grabbed my arm, yanking me into a corner of the hallway. She lowered her voice, her tone laced with fury. “I know you threw the exam to let Toby win. You were trying to get back at me. But changing partners is a massive decision. Why didn’t you report it to me first?” “Go and cancel your application with her right now, before word gets out.” She tilted her chin up, so certain that I was still the puppet who danced on her strings. I wrenched my arm free, finding her entitled expression utterly ridiculous. “And why should I take orders from you?” Her jaw tightened, her eyes flashing with impatience. “Because I’ve already planned it all out. Toby will be my public partner, a face for the media. You will continue to be my shadow partner, working behind the scenes. Isn’t that a perfect solution?” I frowned, unable to process her twisted logic. She looked at me as if I were an imbecile, continuing to explain as if granting me a great favor. “The repetitive, tedious work in the lab is draining. Toby’s a light sleeper as it is; he needs at least twelve hours of rest a day.” “So, you’ll still be the one to handle the heavy lifting, the core data analysis. When the time comes… if we win an award with that data, I’ll speak to the Dean. I’ll have a brand-new lab built just for you as compensation.” Now I understood. She wanted me to sweat and slave away like a mule in a windowless basement, while Toby strutted onto a brightly lit stage in a designer suit to accept the accolades. The sheer audacity was breathtaking. I laughed, a sound devoid of any humor. “Putting someone else’s name on your work is called academic fraud. Do you have the guts to repeat that in the Director’s office?” She was instantly enraged, her eyebrows shooting up as she pointed a finger at my nose, hissing. “Oliver! I’m offering you a way out! You’re the one who started this jealous drama, all to force me to acknowledge you as my partner again, weren’t you?” Seeing the fury and arrogance swirling in her eyes, a chilling coldness crept up my spine. I remembered my past life, how I’d unhesitatingly rejected offers from three of the world’s top labs just to stay by her side. For the crumbs of affection she occasionally threw my way, I worked like a machine devoid of pain, my eyes burning from sleepless nights, secretly fixing God knows how many of Toby’s screw-ups. I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms, and stared into her eyes, enunciating each word. “I will never agree.” Her chest heaved with rage. Just as she was about to explode, Toby’s melodramatic sobs echoed from the other end of the hall. Stella’s expression changed in a flash. She hurried over to find Toby crumpled on the floor, clutching a reference book that had been cut to ribbons, crying his eyes out. “Stella, Oliver did this! To get back at me for taking his spot as your partner, he snuck into the lab and destroyed my core reference materials!” Stella pulled him into a tender embrace, her voice soft enough to melt steel. “Don’t cry. I’ll make him pay. I won’t let anyone who bullies you get away with it.” Toby, trembling like a frightened quail in her arms, shook his head theatrically. “Let’s just forget it and go abroad. If we stay under the same roof as Oliver, I’m afraid next time he’ll destroy months of my research.” I watched this pathetic melodrama unfold, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “Your mediocre research is hardly worth my effort. Besides, this entire hallway, including the lab, is covered by 360-degree surveillance cameras. We can just pull the footage and see who’s really directing this little play. Or do you prefer to just keep wailing here?” My words only made Toby cry harder. Stella whipped her head around, her eyes promising murder. She snatched the shredded hardcover book from the floor and hurled it at my face. “You commit this disgusting act of revenge against Toby, show no remorse, and then have the audacity to bully him with your words! Oliver, you forced my hand!” The heavy corner of the book struck me right beside my eye. A sharp, piercing pain erupted, and warm blood trickled down my cheekbone. The last trace of expression vanished from my face. My voice was as cold as ice. “You won’t even check the cameras. You condemn me based on his word alone. Stella, have you ever considered that you’re nothing more than a puppet, and he’s the one pulling your strings?” She clenched her fists, roaring like an enraged lioness. “Toby’s heart is as pure as a blank sheet of paper! Even if I willingly let him use me, he would never stoop to something like this! Unlike you, with your mind full of schemes and gutter-water ambition!” Faced with her fury, I simply wiped the blood from my eye, my expression as placid as if I were looking at a stranger. Suddenly, she let out a chilling, eerie laugh and strode into my lab. She grabbed a scalpel from the desk and plunged it violently into the temperature-controlled incubator. The specialized glass casing shattered with a sharp crack. Warm, light-blue nutrient fluid and viscous matter spilled across the table. Those were the rare, thought-to-be-extinct biological specimens I had spent eight years cultivating, poring over ancient texts to bring back from the brink. They were only three days away from hatching. She turned her head, a sick, almost cruel smile on her face. “How does it feel? To have your life’s work destroyed in an instant?! Toby has poured ten times more effort into his research than you ever have, so you deserve to swallow this pain ten times over!” She overturned the entire incubator in a frenzy. The precious eggs rolled across the floor. In her high heels, right in front of me, she brought her foot down, again, and again, grinding them into a stinking, putrid mess. The crowd gathered at the door was dead silent, no one daring to breathe. They were all waiting, waiting to see me collapse to my knees as I had in the past, begging her to stop. But they were disappointed. I simply bent down, expressionless, picked up my scattered transfer documents, and walked away into the deepening night. While waiting in the airport lounge, my phone lit up with a text from a colleague. [Stella says if you come crawling back right now and kneel before the whole institute to apologize to Toby, she might consider asking the Dean to let you stay.] I replied without a moment’s hesitation: [Tell her not to bother. From this day forward, I am done with her, and with this place. Forever.] I turned off the phone, snapped the SIM card in half, and dropped it into a trash can. Boarding pass in hand, I walked onto the flight to Germany without a single look back. As for who would claim that grand international award, she could just watch and see.

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This time, I was back at the beginning of my downfall. It was the day my fiancée was secretly stealing company money to spend on the man she truly loved. But unlike before, I didn’t foolishly sell all I owned to cover for her. Instead, I took the evidence straight to the police. While she was held for questioning, I quietly ended our engagement. And just like that, I disappeared from her life completely. I did it because in my last life, I’d loved her completely for thirty years—yet she never once smiled at me. She even claimed I’d trapped her into having our daughter, and more than once, tried to kill our child with her own hands. Then came the earthquake. I was crushed under rubble after shielding her and our daughter. Once they were rescued, they calmly stopped the rescuers from coming back for me. My daughter, whom I’d cherished for over twenty years, was affectionately calling another man “Dad.” She told me, “If you hadn’t forced Mom to marry you with your money, we’d have been happy long ago.” My fiancée, Isabelle, wept happily in that man Marcus’s arms, saying, “It’s over. We can finally be together openly.” So in this life, I decided to let go. I’d let these “true lovers” have their happy ending. … 1 “Bryan, do you have any cash right now? Could you transfer me fifty million? It’s an emergency.” “Just think of it as an early wedding present from you to me!” The familiar voice and words snapped me back to reality. In my last life, when I hesitated, she went ahead and stole the company funds anyway. When she was caught, she came to me in tears, begging me to cover for her. I couldn’t bear the thought of her going to prison so young, so I drained my family’s savings, even took out loans from loan sharks. Only later did I learn the truth. The money wasn’t for a family medical emergency. It was for a grand, reckless gesture to win a trophy piece for her true love at a high-end auction. This time, I refused to be the fool. I hung up the phone. Then I called her boss and told him everything. Sure enough, the next day, Isabelle was taken away by the police for embezzling company funds. A colleague approached me, his voice cautious. “Bryan, I heard from the boss that if Isabelle can pay back the money, he won’t press charges.” “She’s your fiancée, after all. Aren’t you going to help her out? Otherwise, she could be facing over a decade behind bars.” I just shook my head. “I want to, but I can’t. Fifty million is no small sum. I could sell both my kidneys and still not come close.” My colleague nodded, murmuring, “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” After he left, my mind drifted back to my past life. I was the one who had sacrificed everything to fix her mistake. Her parents, grateful, had pushed for our wedding to happen immediately. But Isabelle saw it as a trap. She believed I had orchestrated the whole thing to force her into marriage. As revenge, she carried on her affair with Marcus behind my back. She even had his child. And that very child, the daughter I had spoiled and adored for nearly three decades, was the one who stopped the rescuers from saving me. She said my money had torn her real family apart. That I was the monster responsible for her parents’ separation. That I deserved to die. And my beloved wife? Not only did she fail to silence her, she joined in the condemnation. “Bryan, if you hadn’t guilt-tripped me, I never would have married you. The only man I have ever loved is Marcus.” “Besides, I never forced you to help me. Even without you, I know Marcus would have saved me.” “Do you know why I could never stand to be in the same room with you? Because every time you touched me, I felt sick to my stomach! You’ve had me for thirty years. My daughter and I want to spend the rest of our lives with Marcus.” With that, they turned their backs on me, walking away arm-in-arm with Marcus, the perfect picture of a happy family. Trapped beneath the crushing weight, my heart flooded with rage, despair, and a grief so profound it suffocated me. I couldn’t hold on long enough for another team to arrive. I died of a broken heart. But fate gave me another chance. This time, I would not lift a finger for her. I would not be the fool again. This time, I was morbidly curious to see if Marcus would really be the knight in shining armor she believed him to be. 2 During her days in custody, Isabelle tried to contact me repeatedly. I ignored her calls. So, she had the audacity to call my parents. “Isabelle said she just made a stupid mistake,” my mother told me over the phone. “She said she was trying to invest the money so you two would have a better life after you got married.” “Bryan, you’re going to be husband and wife. You have to be there for each other, in good times and in bad. If you can help her, you should. Your father and I have some savings, you could…” I cut her off. “Mom, she’s lying to you. She took that money for another man.” I laid out the whole story for her. My mother was silent for a long time. “But honey, your father and I have known Isabelle since she was a little girl. Are you sure there hasn’t been some misunderstanding?” “There’s no misunderstanding, Mom. Just don’t you and Dad worry about this.” After hanging up, I booked my parents a month-long cruise. With them out of the city, they wouldn’t be caught in the middle of this mess. I never expected to see Isabelle again so soon, but there she was, at a friend’s party. Apparently, she’d cut a deal with her company, promising to return the full amount within two weeks. In return, they temporarily dropped the charges. Out of courtesy, everyone avoided the topic, but the glances they shot between me and her were charged with a strange tension. I couldn’t have cared less. But when my eyes met hers, and I saw the pure hatred simmering there, a jolt went through me. My gut told me: she’s been reborn, too. Just as the conversation in the private room was getting lively, the door was kicked open. Isabelle’s beloved Marcus stormed in, his eyes blazing with fury as he glared at me. “Bryan, what kind of man are you? Your fiancée is locked up, and you don’t even bother to visit her once!” “It’s a good thing you two aren’t married yet. You would have ruined her life!” I glanced coolly at the raging man, then my eyes flickered to Isabelle. I saw her entire face light up at the sight of Marcus, an undisguised tenderness in her eyes. I couldn’t help but think of my last life. Even after thirty years of marriage, she had begrudged me a single smile, let alone a look like that. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could put on an act when she needed something from me. And every single time, it had something to do with Marcus. Like when she begged me to give him our house to live in, rent-free. Or when she asked me to empty our life savings to fund his startup. Or when she pleaded with me to donate half of my liver to him. Isabelle never tried to hide her feelings for Marcus. And I wasn’t blind. I knew. I just thought that if I loved her enough, if I was good enough to her, one day she would see me. I forgot that some people’s hearts are made of stone. You can’t warm them, no matter how hard you try. My silence only fueled Marcus’s anger. He grabbed the collar of my shirt, roaring, “Didn’t you hear me? I’m talking to you!” “Isabelle is your fiancée! Are you really going to let her go to prison? Are you even human?!” His outburst started a ripple of whispers among our friends. “Bryan always seemed so devoted to Isabelle. I can’t believe he’d just abandon her the second she got into trouble.” “Well, they’re not even married yet. It’s every man for himself when things go south.” Listening to them, I finally understood Marcus’s little performance. He and Isabelle were trying to use public pressure to force my hand. Too bad for them. The reborn me didn’t give a damn about any of it. I shoved Marcus’s hand away, my voice like ice. “For an outsider, you seem a lot more worked up about this than her actual fiancé. I guess it’s no wonder my fiancée would embezzle company funds just to buy you a trophy.” 3 The room fell silent. Every eye was now on Isabelle and Marcus. Isabelle’s face went through a kaleidoscope of colors. She shot me a look of pure disgust. “So, you knew.” I glanced at her, my voice flat. “And if I hadn’t, were you planning to just soft-soap me into cleaning up your mess?” In my last life, I only found out the truth after our wedding. We had just returned to our new home when Marcus showed up at our door. He held a diamond ring, one bought at that same auction, and slid it onto Isabelle’s finger, right in front of me. Then, he looked at me with a smirk. “I’m sure you don’t mind, Bryan. After all, you basically paid for it.” That was when I learned that her so-called “investment” was a lie. The money my parents and I had scraped together, selling almost everything we owned, had been spent on Marcus. When I confronted her, Isabelle just said it was the price I had to pay for tearing her and Marcus apart. Fine. In this life, I wished them a lifetime of being chained together. I thought that by laying the cards on the table, there would be nothing left for them to say. I was wrong. Marcus pointed a finger in my face and spat, “Bryan, you’re a real piece of work!” “The only reason Isabelle was even at that auction was because you said you wanted that pair of matching rings! She wanted to buy them for your wedding.” “Now that she’s in trouble, not only do you wash your hands of it, you try to drag her and me through the mud with you.” As he spoke, Isabelle looked at me with a wounded, resentful expression. I was certain I had never said any such thing. But our friends didn’t know that. The way they looked at me started to shift. “I always thought Bryan was a stand-up guy. I can’t believe he’s so twisted behind the scenes.” “Poor Isabelle. To have a fiancé like that.” “Isabelle, we’ve known you for years. We trust you.” “Isabelle, you need to break up with him before you get married. You can’t be with a man like that.” … They all started comforting Isabelle, one after another. With red-rimmed eyes, Isabelle thanked them. In that moment, it was as if I were the villain, the one who had betrayed her trust, the scum of the earth. But in my last life, I had treated Isabelle and her daughter like queens for thirty years. What had I done wrong? Why did I deserve such an end? I reined in my emotions. I had no intention of playing along with their little act. I was confident that my true friends wouldn’t doubt my character based on a few words from a stranger. As for the others, once they walked out of this room, I had no intention of ever seeing them again. When it became clear that I wasn’t going to cave and offer to pay her debt, Marcus started to get antsy. Just as I raised a glass of juice to my lips, he swatted it out of my hand. The glass shattered on the floor, the sound silencing the room once again. “Bryan, you’ve caused Isabelle so much misery, and you have the nerve to sit here and drink juice?” At this point, I was just tired of it all. I looked up, my eyes cold as I stared at him. “Isabelle embezzled that money for you. All the items from that auction ended up in your pocket. How dare you say I’m the one who caused this?” Marcus sneered. “If you hadn’t demanded those rings, Isabelle and I would never have even gone to that stupid auction!” “And what do you mean, the items are in my pocket? They’re all in your new house!” “Bryan, you go on and on about how much you love Isabelle, but when it comes down to it, you’re just trying to use her as a shield. Don’t you have a conscience?” Isabelle stood up then and, without a word, slapped me across the face. “Bryan, you are the biggest disappointment of my life. I’m breaking our engagement!” Her friends immediately chimed in to support her. “This is about more than just breaking up. Bryan, since this all started because of you, you’re the one who has to fix it for Isabelle.” “Exactly! If all those auction items are yours, how can you let a woman pay for them? That’s just pathetic.” “If Isabelle actually goes to prison because of you, will you be able to live with yourself?” … Listening to their accusations, I ran my tongue over the inside of my cheek where she’d hit me. I looked up and met Isabelle’s triumphant gaze. Did she really think a little public pressure would make me bend to her will? I turned on the TV in the room and connected my phone. A security video played for everyone to see. It showed the scene after the auction. Isabelle was walking out, arm-in-arm with Marcus. “Marcus, did you have a good time tonight?” “I did. But Isabelle, what about that fifty million you embezzled? How are you going to pay it back?” “Don’t worry. I’ve got that fool Bryan wrapped around my finger. All I have to do is cry a little, beg a little, and he’ll find a way to get me any amount of money I need.” “Isabelle, you’re so good to me…” Then, without a care in the world, they started kissing. I looked at Isabelle’s deathly pale face and smirked. “About that broken engagement you mentioned… I agree. After all, I have no desire to be anyone’s fool.” With that, I turned and walked out of the room.

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I was in the school cafeteria, sipping the free broth they offered and picking at a cheap plain oatmeal bowl, when the administrators showed up for a surprise inspection. The principal noticed my bare, modest tray and asked gently why I hadn’t gotten any real food. I had no choice but to be honest: I was short on cash. That night, my mom called, her tone sharp and accusatory. She demanded to know how I could be so ungrateful. The family gave me a generous monthly allowance of a hundred thousand dollars—so why was I going around telling people I was broke? I knew all about that allowance, of course. But the money was held in a managed trust. Under the legal terms, I couldn’t withdraw a single dollar until I turned eighteen. And I was only a freshman in high school. 1 My mother’s yelling continued. “You deliberately told everyone you had no money for food, right in front of all those people. You’re trying to make your father and me look bad, aren’t you?” “Hannah, I’ve always thought you were manipulative. Ever since you were a little girl, you’ve known how to play the victim to get sympathy.” She paused, then her voice turned sharp with sarcasm. “I’ve given you a life of luxury, never let you suffer. And you’re still not satisfied. What a thankless child.” “Just like your grandmother. You’re both here just to make my life miserable.” A wave of exhaustion washed over me. For years, any little thing I did to displease her, she would somehow link back to my grandmother. My grandmother was a traditional woman, with a strong preference for boys. When I was born, the moment she heard I was a girl, she turned around and left. They say the grudges formed during the postpartum month are never forgotten. My mother had hated my grandmother ever since. I tried to explain, but she had already hung up. A moment later, a screenshot of a bank transfer popped up on my phone. [There. Another hundred thousand. That’s enough for you to eat and drink whatever you want.] [You’re still growing. Don’t eat that unhealthy, cheap junk just to save money. You need a balanced diet…] It was a performance of care and concern, as if the argument moments before had never happened. I stared up at the clear blue sky, a chill running through me. After a long silence, I finally gathered the courage to type a reply. [Could you transfer the money directly to me instead of the trust company? I don’t need that much. Two thousand a month would be enough.] The “typing” indicator flickered on and off for a long time, but no message came through. Just as I thought she wouldn’t reply, my phone rang. My mother’s furious voice exploded in my ear. “Hannah, what are you trying to pull? Are you just looking for trouble?” “Have you been hanging out with the wrong crowd at school? A hundred thousand a month isn’t enough for you?” I took a deep breath, my heart pounding. I forced myself to explain. “But Mom, I can’t access that money until I’m eighteen. I’m only sixteen. What am I supposed to do for the next two years?” “I’m starving. I can’t even afford a fifty-cent bowl of congee anymore.” “Mom, please, just give me some living expenses. I don’t need much. A thousand a month… no, five hundred would be fine. I just don’t want to be hungry anymore…” I was so hungry. At my age, I was going through a growth spurt, and with all the physical activity at school, I was hungry all the time. Even with the free soup at every meal, I was still starving. At my worst, I had resorted to drinking water from the tap to fill my stomach. But my mother was unmoved. Her voice grew even sharper. “I fought for you, went against the family to set up that trust for you because I felt sorry that you weren’t valued. There’s over five million in there by now. What more could you possibly want?” “Always demanding more, just like your grandmother. You’re both here to collect a debt. What did I do to deserve this?” I tightened my grip on the phone. In that moment, I finally understood. My mother was taking out all her resentment for my grandmother on me. She was deliberately withholding money from me, all while maintaining the facade of a “good mother.” The call ended. I went to the sink on the balcony and gulped down more water. A roommate walked in and saw me, startled. “Hannah, you’re drinking tap water again.” I nodded. She frowned, studying me for a long moment before hesitating. “But… your cousin, Iris, says your family is really rich. How can you not have money for food?” My heart stuttered. Iris was my cousin. She had lived with us since she was a child. My mother adored her. All the maternal love I had never experienced was showered on Iris. Iris had the biggest, prettiest bedroom in the house, with its own piano room. Her closet was overflowing with beautiful dresses she never had a chance to wear. And when it came to spending money, there were no limits. My mother had given her a supplementary credit card with no spending cap. I looked up, meeting my roommate’s eyes. “Not all mothers love their children.” She was stunned into silence. Just then, Iris bounced into the room, holding a small cake. It was strawberry. And I was allergic to strawberries. Iris smiled at me, a look of condescending charity in her eyes, and held the cake out. “Here, for you.” I didn’t move. We had known each other for years. She knew about my allergy. Iris’s face fell. “Come on, eat it. I waited in line for two hours to get this.” “You know I’m allergic,” I said flatly. “What allergy? I think you’re just trying to make things difficult for me.” The smile vanished from her face. The next second, she slammed the cake into my chest, her eyes red with anger. “What is your problem? Just because I’m the poor relative living in your house, you look down on me? You won’t even accept a cake I bought especially for you?” Ten minutes later, Iris and I were in the dean’s office. Iris’s hair was a mess, a clear handprint on her cheek. Her eyes were red and swollen from crying. I stood there, my face a mask, but a closer look would reveal scratch marks on my arms and hands, and my clothes were smeared with cream. We both looked like we’d been through a war. Iris sobbed, pointing at her face. “Sir, I just wanted to give her a cake, and she hit me.” The dean frowned, not immediately taking her side. He turned to me. “Hannah, tell me what happened.” I recounted the events of the last ten minutes. Iris had not only thrown the cake at me, but had also lunged at me with her long nails. I hadn’t just stood there and taken it; in the scuffle, I had slapped her. That was when she had finally backed off and started crying. And that brought us here. Iris kept crying, occasionally interjecting, “Sir, I was just so angry! Why couldn’t she just accept my kindness?” She was so self-righteous. The dean looked at her with displeasure, about to speak, when the office door was thrown open. It was my mother. She strode in and, without a word, swung her arm and slapped me across the face. The office fell silent. The dean was the first to react, pulling me behind him and confronting my mother. “Ma’am, you can’t just hit a student!” My mother pointed at me, her eyes blazing. “She’s a menace! Bullying her own cousin. Better I beat some sense into her now before she goes out into the world and does something truly terrible.” From behind my mother, Iris stuck her tongue out at me. I remained frozen, my head still turned from the force of the slap. The dean’s expression had darkened. “Mrs. Zhou, you need to be more patient with your daughter. You should have asked her what happened instead of just resorting to violence.” My mother didn’t seem to hear him, her eyes still locked on me with disappointment. The dean continued, “I’ve heard both sides. It seems Iris threw the cake at Hannah first and then tried to scratch her. Hannah was just defending herself.” My mother looked surprised, but only for a moment. Then, as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world, her voice became even more shrill. “I gave birth to her. I know her best. She’s been a manipulative little thing since she was a child. And Iris has always been so well-behaved. Why would she attack someone for no reason?” “Hannah must have done something to provoke her.” At that, Iris buried her face in my mother’s side and started crying even harder. “It was sister… she’s always calling me a poor relative, a freeloader… I just couldn’t take it anymore.” That was all the fuel my mother needed. She struggled against the dean’s restraining arm, trying to get to me again. “You ungrateful brat! I’ll kill you!” Just as another slap was about to land, I snapped my head up and met my mother’s eyes. “With a mother like you… I’d rather be an orphan.” You could have heard a pin drop in the office. My mother’s hand froze in mid-air. She stared at me in disbelief, clearly shocked that the daughter who had always tried so hard to please her would dare to say such a thing. “Are you… insane?” After a moment of shock, her anger erupted. She slammed her hand on the desk. “Fine! You really are your grandmother’s granddaughter, rotten to the core!” Even Iris seemed taken aback by the venom in her words. Seeing the color drain from my face, my mother’s voice rose to a shriek. “Hannah, what could you possibly be dissatisfied with? I give you a hundred thousand a month! Most families don’t even save that much in a year.” “And Iris, she never complains about money. She even buys me little gifts. Such a considerate child. Is it so wrong for me to dote on her a little more?” I couldn’t take it anymore. Years of pent-up resentment came pouring out. “Because she’s not the one who’s broke! I’m the one who can’t even afford to eat! Yes, you give me a hundred thousand a month, but it’s all locked up in a trust! I can’t touch it until I’m eighteen.” “I’m only sixteen! You won’t give me any living expenses, and I can’t get the money from the trust. What am I supposed to do?!” My mother just looked at my breakdown with cold disdain. “You’re so ungrateful. You have no appreciation for what your elders do for you.” The dean could only sigh. As we were leaving, he called me back. “Hannah, if you’re having financial difficulties, please don’t hesitate to come to me.” He handed me a financial aid application form. Tears welled in my eyes. I bowed deeply. “Thank you, sir.” I had tried to apply for aid before, but the school had rejected my application after looking into my family’s financial situation. My classmates often teased me, calling me a “rich miser.” It was a Friday. I usually worked on weekends and didn’t have time to go home. But with my mother here, I had no choice but to go with her. When we got home, she shot me a sideways glance and started complaining to my father, who had just arrived. “Richard, I can’t handle your daughter anymore.” My father rubbed his temples, annoyed. “What is it now?” Iris pouted, her eyes welling up with tears. “I bought sister a cake, and she got mad…” she mumbled, her words vague and misleading. My father sighed and tried to reason with me. “Hannah, just try to get along, will you?” My shoulders slumped. My voice trembled. “Give me my living expenses.” At that, my mother, who had been heading upstairs, stormed back down and pointed a finger at my nose. “Hannah, your father and I have given you everything, and not only are you ungrateful, you resent us for it!” “I’ve already transferred the money to you. It’s not my fault if you’re not capable enough to access it.” She then pointed at my father. “Look at your father! He works so hard to provide for this family that his health is failing. And look at me! I’ve gotten so many wrinkles because of you. Do you even see any of that?” I looked at my father. His lips were tinged with blue, and he looked exhausted. I felt a pang of guilt. But that guilt quickly vanished when I heard him sigh and, as he had done so many times before, try to smooth things over. “Alright, Hannah, your mother is just looking out for you. She’s afraid you’ll waste the money if you get it all at once.” I fought back tears and screamed, “Are you both insane? I can’t touch that money until I’m eighteen! What am I supposed to do until then? Do you want me to starve to death?” “To survive, I’ve had to work in illegal factories every break, working until one in the morning for less than a thousand a month! And all the while, Iris is living like a princess in this house! Who is your real daughter?!” My mother stared at me, her chest heaving. She was furious, her parental authority challenged. But she couldn’t refute what I said. It was all true. My father clenched his fists, hesitating as he looked at my mother. She exploded. “Richard, if you dare give her a single cent behind my back, we’re getting a divorce!” That night, like so many nights before, ended in a bitter fight. I spent the weekend working. On Monday, I went to the school’s financial aid office to apply for a student grant. With the dean’s help, the process went smoothly. The grant wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep me from starving. Just as I was breathing a sigh of relief, I got a call from my homeroom teacher. “Hannah, the school has given your grant to another student.” “Why?” “Your mother came to the school and went straight to the principal. She told him she gives you a hundred thousand a month and that you’ve always been a spoiled, greedy child. The dean and I tried to reason with her, but it was no use…” My homeroom teacher’s regretful, helpless voice continued on the other end, but I couldn’t hear it anymore. My head was buzzing. A few of my classmates had overheard. They started pointing and whispering. When I got back to my dorm, my roommates looked at me strangely. The one I had been closest to deliberately bumped into me with her shoulder. “Wow, Hannah, you’re really something else. Your mom just pulled up in a Rolls-Royce, decked out in designer everything… and here you are, a rich kid, playing poor for sympathy. It’s disgusting.” “You know who got the grant instead? Iris. Bet that just kills you.” My blood ran cold. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted from the dorm, out of the school gates. The family car was parked on the side of the road. The windows were down, and I could see my parents sitting inside. I walked up to them, my voice hoarse. “Why?” My mother didn’t even look at me, busy admiring her manicure. My father had that same helpless look on his face. “Hannah, your cousin has never had her real parents to look after her. She’s a guest in our home. She’s had a hard life…” Iris’s mother was a single mom who had died in a car accident when she was four. No one knew who her father was. “Iris has had it tough, so you have to be the bigger person.” I had heard that line my entire life. I stood there, a bitter smile on my face. “Yes, she doesn’t have parents. But she has you two, her fake parents, who love her more than anything. I have parents, but what’s the difference between me and an orphan?” My parents stared at me, stunned. My voice was eerily calm when I spoke again. “From now on, just pretend you don’t have a daughter. You don’t deserve to be parents.”

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My brother, Ryan, vanished that night. I was ten and he was seven. We were in the woods behind the old mill when we stumbled upon an abandoned spaceship. Curiosity got the better of him, and Ryan scrambled inside. The hatch slammed shut behind him, and no matter how hard we pushed, it wouldn’t budge. Panic, cold and sharp, pierced right through me. I ran home, screaming and crying for Mom and Dad. Every adult from our little mill town turned out, combing every trail and thicket in those woods, turning the whole place upside down. They found nothing. Not a single clue. When they finally pried the hatch open, the inside was empty. A few of the men squeezed into the dark, narrow, dust-choked cylinder. They came out grimy and grim-faced, saying it was just an old industrial mixing tank. There was nothing inside. No other exits. No secret doors. No holes. Ryan had simply vanished into thin air. 1 That night, two officers from the local precinct came by and drilled me with questions. Every word they said made me feel like I’d done something wrong. “Why did your brother climb into that tank?” “You’re the older sister. Why didn’t you stop him?” “Are you sure you’re not just making this up?” I defended myself, my voice raw and hoarse, but all I got in return were heavy, meaningful stares. A seven-year-old boy, gone. No witnesses, no leads, no evidence. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened, and it wouldn’t be the last. Every summer, some kid would wander too deep into the woods and get lost. Some were found. Some weren’t. They treated it like any other missing person case. No one yelled at me, but no one believed me, either. The search lasted two weeks. The police exhausted every possibility. In the end, my brother became just another name on a list of the missing. After Ryan was gone, the air in our house changed. It grew heavy, suffocating. Mom would lock herself in her room and just cry. Dad would finish his shift at the mill and go straight to the woods, sitting by that “spaceship” and drinking until late into the night. No one could accept that their son had evaporated inside an old, rusted-out tank. No sign of life, no body to bury. The whispers started in the hallways of our apartment building. Some said the spirits in the woods had taken him. Ryan had always been a frail kid, and they said those things preyed on the weak. Others pointed their fingers at me. “Tsk, tsk. Kids these days. The things they’ll do to get all their parents’ attention.” The gossip swirled around like dead leaves in the wind. But life had to go on. Mom and Dad made a silent pact to never speak his name again. Mom packed all his clothes, toys, and photos into a large wooden chest and locked it. Back then, the cartoon Starblazers was all the rage. Ryan had a complete set of stickers from the show plastered all over his headboard and pencil case. He used to say that one day, he’d become a Starblazer too, and fly off into space. Now, all his dreams, along with the name Ryan, were locked away at the bottom of that chest. My dad had us take a new family photo. Mom and Dad forced tight smiles for the camera, determined to start over. Not long after, Mom got pregnant again. Maybe it was to wash away the sorrow, or maybe it was the universe’s way of offering compensation. She nurtured the new life quietly, her face a mask of something between grief and hope. Dad threw himself into his work, his eyes fixed on the promise of a new beginning. Only I, weathering the storm of neighborhood gossip, kept searching for Ryan, praying he would come back. I refused to believe a seven-year-old boy could just disappear. I chose to believe he’d really done it—he’d launched his ship and was out there, somewhere in the vast, starry expanse. In my dreams, I could still see him, his small back turned to me as he climbed into the tank. “Cassie, I’m leaving now.” “I’m going on an adventure in space, just like a real Starblazer.” “Wait for me, okay? I’ll write to you.” And I believed him. I believed he would write. Ryan had never, not once, lied to me. And then, it happened. A letter arrived. It was a perfectly ordinary evening. I was walking home from school and, out of habit, glanced at the milk box by our front door. Tucked into the seam was an envelope. No stamp, no return address. Just three words scrawled in a shaky hand: Cassie. My name. I knew that handwriting. It was Ryan’s. I tore it open. Inside was a piece of paper ripped from a notebook, covered in messy script. Cassie, The ship took off. I’m in space, and all I can see are stars out the window. There are so many buttons in here. I pushed a red one and the ship went super fast. I almost fell over. I’m going on an adventure, just like in Starblazers. I’m doing good here. There’s food and water, and I have a little dog with me. His name is Astro. He can talk and he tells jokes, but they’re not very funny. Cassie, do you miss me? I’m okay, so don’t worry. And don’t tell Mom and Dad. This is our secret. They’ll ruin it if they know. If you miss me, go to our secret base. My telescope is still there. Keep it safe for me. I’ll write again soon. Ryan After reading the letter, I felt a small, hard disk in the envelope. I tipped it out into my palm. It was a little white button shaped like a rabbit. My whole body started to shake. It was the button from the collar of the shirt Ryan was wearing the night he disappeared. Ryan was alive. He had written to me. A thought seized me, and I took off, running like mad toward the woods. The rusted old mixing tank was still there, lying in the clearing, silent and inert. His words from that night echoed in my ears: “Cassie, I’m going on a trip to space.” Clearly, the “spaceship” in the letter wasn’t this hunk of metal. Could it be? Was there some kind of mysterious power inside the tank that had sent him to the stars? I didn’t know. But I was sure of one thing. This letter was real. Ryan was still out there. And he had kept his promise. He wrote! Ryan didn’t want me to tell anyone. Mom and Dad were wrapped up in the new baby, the last thing they wanted was to be reminded of their lost son. If I told any other adults, they’d think I was crazy. A boy who vanished from a sealed tank suddenly sending letters from space? They’d assume I’d faked it for attention, just to stir up a settled tragedy. At ten years old, I’d already learned to read the expressions on grown-ups’ faces. The search parties were long gone. It was up to me. I carefully folded the letter and tucked it inside my dictionary. Before Dad had dinner on the table, I slipped out to our secret base. The “secret base” was just the old recycling depot behind our apartment building. Before Ryan disappeared, we used to scavenge for treasures there: marbles, old toys, weirdly shaped plastic cards. I dug to the very bottom of our stash and pulled out Ryan’s most prized possession: his toy telescope. His “interstellar observation scope,” he called it. I pulled open the drawer of the old desk we used as our command center and found it right where he’d left it. I figured, if Ryan could get a letter from outer space into our milk box, then he could definitely get one back. So that night, I hunched over my desk and wrote a reply. Ryan, I got your letter. Are you feeling better? Space must be so beautiful. I’ll keep our secret. Be careful out there by yourself. They’re coming out with new Starblazers stickers soon. You need to come home soon for your shots and your medicine. Come home soon. Cassie I was never good with words. I wrote and erased and rewrote, but that was the best I could do. The next morning, I tucked my reply and the telescope into the milk box before heading to school. I was a wreck all day, couldn’t focus on a single thing the teacher said. My mind was consumed by the letter. The second the final bell rang, I sprinted home. The milk box was empty. My letter and the telescope were gone. After that, I checked the milk box every single day, waiting for Ryan’s next letter. It didn’t come for a month. When it finally did, it was the same kind of envelope, the same handwriting, the same lack of a stamp. Cassie, The ship flew past Mars today. It’s red, like Mom’s chili sauce. Astro says there are volcanoes on Mars taller than Mount Everest. Cassie, how tall is Mount Everest? How are Mom and Dad? Are you eating okay? I miss Mom’s pot roast. Eat some extra for me, okay? Ryan I sat at my desk and read the letter three times over. Eat some extra of Mom’s pot roast for me. We did have pot roast last night. How did he know? Could he see our dinner table through the telescope? That must mean he was somewhere close. A spark of hope ignited in me. I quickly wrote a reply and went to hide by the milk box, determined to see who was picking up the mail. But my dad, taking out the trash, found me. He yelled at me for loitering and was about to drag me off to school. I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to tell him everything. The moment the name “Ryan” left my lips, he slapped me across the face. His eyes were blazing. “We don’t have a Ryan anymore! You say that name again and I’ll beat you!” he roared. “And if you ever think about skipping school, I’ll beat you for that too!” I’d always been terrified of my dad, so I did as I was told and went to school. When I got back, my letter was gone. A small part of me felt a flicker of relief. Waiting for Ryan’s letters became the one thing I looked forward to each day. They didn’t come on a regular schedule. Sometimes it was a few days, sometimes a few months. They always seemed to arrive when I was at school or taking a test. But they never stopped. The letters were mostly the same. He was on his ship, he flew past a planet, he saw something cool, Astro told another bad joke. Sometimes I was tempted to tell Mom about the letters. I watched her belly grow bigger every day. She started knitting clothes for the new baby. Her spirit seemed to have left her; even with a new life inside her, she looked hollowed out. One day, I couldn’t hold it in. “Mom,” I started. “Do you think… do you think Ryan might still be alive?” Her hands stilled. The silence in the room stretched on for a long time. Then she let out a long, weary sigh. “Cassie, I know you miss him. I do too.” She put her knitting away and walked to the window, her back to me. “But some things… you just have to let them go. We have to look forward now.” Her shoulders trembled slightly. I knew she was crying. I didn’t say another word. In that moment, I understood. They had all given up on Ryan. Back in my room, I pulled the letters from my dictionary and read them again under the starlight pouring through my window. I knew every word by heart. After I finished, I just stared out at the night sky. The moon, the stars, the scattered lights of the town. And then I saw it. My eyes locked onto the small park below our building. A little boy was standing in the middle of the empty playground, holding a telescope. And he was looking right at my window.

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During a routine inspection at St. Jude Medical Center, I went to the cafeteria for lunch. After picking up an extra meal for my sister Clara, who interns there, I overheard whispers as I walked toward a quiet corner. Someone recognized Dr. Norris from Dental and wondered about the new person sitting with her. Before I could react, a furious young doctor rushed over and punched me in the face. “Who do you think you are, pretty boy? Trying to flirt with my girl?” he yelled. My sister panicked, grabbing his arm. “Jacob, stop! It’s not what it looks like!” But he shoved her away, gripped my wrist, and insisted, “We’re going to the Chief of Staff!” I tried to explain. “You’re mistaken. We’re just friends.” He scoffed. “Don’t lie. Come on!” I sighed inwardly, blaming my youthful face. He dragged me into the Chief’s office, shouting, “Mom! This new intern is already hitting on someone’s girlfriend! This guy has no ethics—fire him now!” The Chief turned, her expression dark, and snapped at me, “Which department are you from? Give me your supervisor’s number. You’re fired, effective immediately.” I couldn’t help a faint smile. Calmly, I replied, “I’d be glad to give you the number. I’m just not sure you’d dare call it.” 1 Monday morning, eight-thirty. I pulled up to St. Jude Medical Center. My mission today was an undercover inspection. The County Health Commission had received several complaints about this place: overcharging, ghost employees, substandard equipment. The office wanted me to lead a team down here to investigate. My name is Alexander Stone, Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission. By rights, I should have walked in with my badge prominently displayed. But for an undercover visit, discretion was key. Today, I’d deliberately dressed down in a white tee, jeans, and styled my short hair casually. A subtle pin-style body cam was attached to my shirt. With this face, I could easily pass for a college student. After parking, I headed straight in. Just inside the entrance, I immediately spotted a stack of cardboard boxes blocking the fire escape. Snap. Photo taken. Further in, a fire extinguisher on a hallway corner had its pressure gauge in the red zone. Snap. Another photo. The outpatient lobby was packed, but only two registration windows were open. Three others sat dark. A nurse at the reception desk was engrossed in her phone. An elderly gentleman approached her, holding a form and asking for directions, but she didn’t even look up. “Third floor, left.” The old man, hard of hearing, asked again. The nurse’s voice sharpened with impatience. “Third floor! Left! Can’t you hear me?” The old man shuffled away, looking embarrassed. I documented all of it. Plenty of issues. But no rush today. First, gather information, collect evidence. I’d write the report back at the office, then deal with it officially. I took the stairs to the second floor, glancing specifically at the Dental Department. My sister, Clara Stone, was interning there. She’d just graduated from State Medical University this year and was assigned here for her residency. She’d called me earlier, complaining about the terrible cafeteria food and asking me to bring her something if I had a chance. Perfect timing. I didn’t go into the department to disturb her, opting instead to walk the entire building first. The inpatient ward wasn’t much better in terms of hygiene. A persistent, musty smell hung in the corridors, which even the disinfectant couldn’t quite mask. A notice posted in the pharmacy window was so faded it was almost illegible. Everything was photographed and recorded. Around eleven-thirty, I sent Clara a text. “Where’s the cafeteria? Your brother’s bringing food.” She replied instantly: “First floor, east end. What are you doing here?” “Work trip, just passing through. Keep it on the down-low.” “Got it, big bro.” When I arrived at the cafeteria, lunch had just started, so it wasn’t too crowded. I got two meals: a braised pork combo and sweet and sour ribs. Clara loves meat. Carrying both trays, I found a corner table and sat down. A few minutes later, Clara, in her white lab coat, came scurrying over. “Alex!” She sat down and immediately started shoveling food into her mouth. “Slow down, no one’s going to steal it.” “Only forty minutes for lunch break, gotta be quick.” Her voice was muffled by food. “This hospital only gives residents forty minutes for lunch?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton set that rule. Residents and interns can’t go over their lunch time.” “Which Dr. Patton?” “The big boss here, Emily Patton.” I filed that name away. “How are you settling in?” Clara paused, her chopsticks hovering. “It’s… okay, I guess.” “What do you mean ‘okay’? Spill it.” “Well… some of the senior staff in the department are a bit difficult. They dump all the work on the residents and then make us take the fall if anything goes wrong.” “Any specific instances?” “Last week, a patient complained about a treatment plan. It was clearly the attending’s decision, but I ended up having to write a reflection report.” I put down my chopsticks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” “What’s the point? It’s like this for residents in every hospital, isn’t it?” I was about to respond when I heard two nurses at the next table whispering. “See that? Isn’t that the new Dr. Stone from Dental?” “Yeah, who’s the guy eating with her? Haven’t seen him before.” “No idea, he looks pretty young. Boyfriend, maybe?” “Don’t even joke. Isn’t she dating Dr. Patton’s son?” “You never know. If Jacob finds out, she’s in deep trouble…” I didn’t pay it much mind, going back to my food. Clara, however, heard them and her face visibly changed. “Alex, eat fast. Finish up and get out of here.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing, just… my boyfriend has a bit of a temper.” “Your boyfriend?” “Yeah, Dr. Patton’s son, Jacob Miller. He’s a doctor here too.” “You’re dating and you didn’t tell the family?” “It’s not that serious yet.” “The Chief of Staff’s son, huh?” I raised an eyebrow. “Good for you, kiddo.” “What? He’s the one who chased me.” “Alright, alright.” I didn’t press further. But I made a mental note. The Chief of Staff’s son working in the hospital she manages… wasn’t that a conflict of interest? I’d have to check if he went through proper hiring procedures. I’d just finished my last bite when I heard a rapid series of footsteps at the cafeteria entrance. Clatter, clatter, hurrying. Clara’s chopsticks clattered onto the table. “Oh, no.” Before I could react, a young man in a white lab coat burst through the crowd. Early twenties, short hair, a scowl on his face. He stared at me for two seconds. Then he turned to Clara. “Who?” Just one word. Everyone eating nearby started to look over. I put down my chopsticks and stood up, intending to explain. “Hello, I’m—” Before I could finish. Whack! A fist slammed directly into my left cheek. The entire cafeteria went silent. My face burned, and my ears rang. Jacob stood with his arms crossed, pointing a finger at my nose. “Which department are you from? You’re just a little intern, got some nerve, huh? Trying to steal someone’s girlfriend?” Clara frantically grabbed his arm. “Jacob! Are you out of your mind? He’s—” “You shut up!” Jacob shoved her hand away, his eyes wide with fury. “I’ve heard rumors about guys trying to hit on you, and today I finally caught one!” I clutched my face and took a deep breath. “You’ve got it wrong. We’re not involved like that.” “Not involved like that? You bought her food, you’re sitting at the same table, you’re laughing and joking around, and you’re telling me you’re not involved like that?” “I’m her—” “Don’t bother! I don’t want to hear your made-up stories!” The crowd in the cafeteria grew larger, some people pulling out their phones to record. A few nurses whispered in the back. “Oh my god, Jacob actually hit him.” “Who’s that guy? I can’t believe it.” “He’s got some serious guts, messing with the Chief of Staff’s son.” “He’s toast.” Hearing these comments, Jacob straightened up even more. He grabbed my wrist, his fingers digging in painfully. “Let’s go! We’re going straight to the Chief of Staff!” “Let go of me first,” I said, my voice calm. “Let go? If I don’t get this sorted out today, I’m changing my last name!” He started dragging me out. Clara ran after us, blocking our way. “Jacob! Just calm down! He’s really my brother! His name is Alexander, he’s—” “I don’t care what he’s called!” Jacob flung her aside. “Don’t try to fool me with some made-up name! Your brother? Do you think I’m three years old? How come I’ve never seen your brother? You told me you were an only child here!” Clara choked. I understood. This girl had completely omitted mentioning her brother to him for the sake of her relationship. I shot her a glare over my shoulder. Clara shrunk her neck. “I… I did say I was here alone before…” “Hear that?” Jacob sneered. “Can’t even keep your own story straight, and you’re still defending this pretty boy?” He was surprisingly strong, dragging me out of the cafeteria. People in the hallway quickly made way, their gazes filled with sympathy. As a male doctor brushed past, he murmured, “This kid’s finished. Cross Jacob, and you can forget about making it in this hospital.” I was hauled along the corridor, past the emergency room entrance. Several interns poked their heads out to gawk. One female intern recognized Jacob and quickly ducked back inside. As we reached the elevators, I finally spoke. “Shouldn’t you figure out the situation before you start throwing punches? What if you hit the wrong person?” Jacob’s hand paused on the elevator button. He turned and glared at me. “Hit the wrong person? With that face, that age, hovering around my girlfriend, you think hitting you was wrong?” “Have you ever seen a thirty-two-year-old intern?” “Thirty-two?” He looked me up and down. “Who are you trying to fool? Look at that face, you’re barely twenty-something.” “I told you, you’re mistaken.” “Enough talk! You can explain it all in the Chief of Staff’s office!” The elevator doors opened, and he pushed me in. Clara squeezed in after us, her face ashen. Two other doctors in white coats were already in the elevator; seeing the commotion, they quietly retreated to a corner. On the sixth floor, the Chief of Staff’s office was at the end of the corridor. Jacob dragged me forward with big strides, his shoes echoing loudly through the entire floor. As we passed the administrative office, several staff members peered out of their windows. A middle-aged man whispered, “Here we go again. Jacob’s causing trouble again.” “Who’d he get this time?” “Don’t recognize him, looks new.” The Chief of Staff’s office door was flung open by Jacob. The door crashed against the wall, making the teacup lid on the desk clatter. Inside, a woman in her fifties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and with her hair impeccably styled, was reading documents. Emily Patton. Chief of Staff of St. Jude Medical Center. And Jacob’s mother. “Mom!” Jacob let go of me and rushed to the desk. Emily Patton looked up, a frown on her face. “What is it? What’s all this ruckus during working hours?” “Mom, look at this guy!” Jacob turned and pointed at me. “A new intern, running off to the cafeteria during work hours to hit on someone else’s girlfriend – my girlfriend! Do we really need someone like this in our hospital?” Emily Patton followed his finger to me. I stood in the doorway, my left cheek still a little red, but my expression calm. “Which department are you from?” Emily Patton asked. I remained silent. “Mom! He’s not from our hospital, he must be some outsider who snuck in! This kind of morally bankrupt man needs to be reported to security!” Emily Patton waved him quiet, turning her gaze back to me. “I’ll ask you one more time. Which department are you from? What’s your name?” Clara squeezed in from behind. “Dr. Patton—” “It’s Chief of Staff!” Emily Patton shot her a glance. Clara swallowed. “Chief of Staff Patton, this is a misunderstanding. He’s really my brother, not some—” “Your brother?” Jacob cut her off. “You said you were the only one from your family in this city. Now suddenly a brother pops up? Do you take me for a fool?” “I… I didn’t mention him before, but he really is my brother!” “You shut up.” Emily Patton’s words silenced Clara. Emily Patton stood up, walked around her desk, and stood before me, looking down. “Regardless of who you are, causing trouble in my hospital and disrupting my son’s work and life, I have to deal with this.” I looked up at her. “Chief of Staff, it was your son who publicly slapped me. Who exactly is causing trouble here?” Emily Patton’s eyelid twitched. “He hit you? Jacob, you laid hands on him?” Jacob retorted, his voice full of self-righteousness. “He was hitting on my girlfriend first! What’s wrong with me hitting him?” Emily Patton sighed, but clearly had no intention of reprimanding her son. She turned back to me. “I don’t care what the situation is between you two. If you’re an intern, give me your internship certificate and your attending’s contact information. If you’re an outsider who snuck into our hospital, I’ll call security right now to have you escorted out.” “I’m not an intern.” “Not an intern?” Emily Patton adjusted her glasses. “Then what is your identity?” Jacob interjected, “He must be some outsider clinging to Clara! Mom, call security now!” “Hold on.” Emily Patton stopped him. She scrutinized me again. My white tee, jeans, and ordinary canvas bag indeed didn’t draw much attention. “What exactly is your identity?” “Let me ask you a question first,” I said. “What right do you have to ask me questions?” “Is your son working in a hospital under your jurisdiction through the proper hiring process?” The air in the office froze. Emily Patton’s face changed. Jacob paused for a second, then immediately jumped up. “What are you implying? You’re an outsider, what business is it of yours where I work?” “Exactly, Chief of Staff. Are your son’s employment documents, qualifications, and recruitment process all in order?” Emily Patton stared at me, her Adam’s apple bobbing. “Who exactly are you?” “Didn’t you just ask me for my supervisor’s number?” “Yes, give me your supervisor’s number! No – answer my question first!” “No, let’s just make the call.” I pulled out my phone from my pocket, scrolled through my contacts, and found a number. “Dial this number, and you’ll know exactly who I am.” I turned the phone screen towards her. Emily Patton’s pupils contracted as she looked at the number. The contact’s name was four simple words. She recognized those four words. “What’s wrong, Mom? Dial it!” Jacob urged. Emily Patton didn’t move. Her hand began to tremble. 2 No one spoke in the office. Jacob waited for his mother to speak for a long time, but she remained silent. He walked over and peered at the phone screen himself. “Director… Dawson?” He read out the contact name. Director Dawson. Head of the County Health Commission, Arthur Dawson. Jacob’s brain clearly wasn’t processing things as fast as his mother’s. “Who’s Director Dawson, Mom?” Emily Patton ignored him, her eyes fixed on me. “You’re with the Health Commission?” I put my phone away and pulled a blue leather ID case from my canvas bag. I flipped it open and handed it to her. County Health and Wellness Commission, Medical Oversight Division, Deputy Director. My photo was there, embossed with the red seal. Emily Patton took the ID, looked at it three times. Her hand was still shaking. “Deputy… Deputy Director Stone?” Her voice had changed completely. “Not Director, Deputy Director,” I corrected. Jacob still hadn’t caught on. “Mom, what Deputy Director? Isn’t he an intern?” Emily Patton turned to look at him, her expression unreadable – her mouth agape, as if she wanted to say something but couldn’t. “I am the Deputy Director of the Medical Oversight Division at the County Health Commission,” I repeated to him directly. “I’m here today to conduct an unannounced inspection of your hospital. That slap you gave me? Many people in the cafeteria recorded it, and my body cam recorded the whole thing too.” Jacob’s face visibly drained of all color. “You… what did you say?” “I said, I’m here to investigate your hospital. You publicly slapped me today, and the handprint is still on my face. Want to take a look?” I turned my left cheek towards him. Five red, distinct finger marks. Jacob took a step back, bumping into a chair. “No… impossible. You’re so young, how could you be a Deputy Director…” “Thirty-two years old, serving as a Section Chief level Deputy Director. One of the youngest Section Chiefs in the city. You can check the promotion notice online from last year.” Jacob looked at Clara. She stood in the doorway, head bowed, barely daring to breathe. “So he really is your brother?” Clara nodded. “I told you several times, but you wouldn’t believe me.” Jacob’s legs gave out, and he sank onto the chair. Emily Patton handed my ID back, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Deputy Director Stone… this is all our fault… Jacob is young and foolish…” “Young and foolish is an excuse for hitting people?” “No, no, that’s not what I meant…” “Chief Patton, let me ask you, did you receive the rectification notice sent by the Health Commission last month?” Emily Patton paused. “What… what rectification notice?” “The one concerning fire safety, medical equipment annual inspections, and outpatient service quality. Three copies were sent: one official hard copy, two by email. Are you telling me you didn’t receive it?” Emily Patton’s lips moved. “I… I had the office manager handle it.” “And the results of that handling? The rectification report?” “That… should be in the process…” “I walked through your hospital this morning. Fire exits blocked with clutter, expired fire extinguishers, less than forty percent of outpatient windows open. Reception nurses on their phones during shifts, a strange odor in the inpatient ward corridors, illegible notices in the pharmacy. Is this what you mean by ‘in the process’?” With each point I made, Emily Patton’s face grew paler. “These issues… I’m really not aware of them…” “You’re not aware? You’re the Chief of Staff, and you’re not aware?” Emily Patton opened her mouth, but no words came out. A crowd had gathered at the office door, I hadn’t even noticed when. Several administrative staff, and a few department heads passing by, were all peering inside. A middle-aged man whispered, “It’s the Health Commission, an undercover inspection.” The rumor spread like wildfire. In less than five minutes, the entire floor knew. News traveled faster through the hospital than any official notice. Before I even left the Chief of Staff’s office, my phone rang. “Alex, this is Sarah from Oversight. Director Dawson wants me to ask about the situation on site. Do you need us to send people over?” “Yes, send them. Bring Lily with you, and officially file today’s inspection records.” “Understood, arranging it now.” I hung up and looked at Emily Patton. “Chief Patton, by regulation, after an undercover inspection, I need to write a formal oversight report. Regarding the issues I just mentioned, what do you have to say now?” Emily Patton stood behind her desk, gripping the back of her chair, her knuckles white. “Deputy Director Stone, some things… could we sit down and discuss them first?” “Fine, let’s discuss.” I pulled up a chair and sat. Jacob was still in the adjacent chair, hunched over, not making a sound. “First issue,” I said, opening my phone’s notepad. “Your son, Jacob Miller, is a doctor at this hospital. Through what channels was he hired?” Emily Patton hesitated. “Normal public recruitment.” “Public recruitment? Can you provide the recruitment announcement, written exam scores, interview records, and public notice document?” “Those… HR should have them archived.” “Then please have HR send the materials over now.” Emily Patton picked up the desk phone and dialed an internal number. “Is that Jane? Please send Jacob Miller’s personnel file to my office. Yes, I need it now.” There was a clear pause on the other end, then an affirmative. While waiting for the materials, I asked the second question. “I’d like to see your hospital’s resident and intern management policies. Especially the lunch break regulation – forty minutes. Who set that?” “That… was formulated based on the hospital’s actual situation.” “The Ministry of Health’s regulations on standardized residency training clearly state that residents’ work-rest schedules should ensure adequate rest. Do you think a forty-minute lunch break is reasonable?” “I’ll have the Medical Affairs Department look into it…” “Third question. Last week, a resident in the Dental Department was asked to write a reflection report for a medical dispute involving her attending physician. Are you aware of this?” Emily Patton paused, glancing at Clara, who was still standing in the doorway. “This… I’m not familiar with the specific situation.” “There’s quite a lot you’re not familiar with.” Two knocks on the door, and a woman in glasses entered, holding an archive envelope. “Chief Patton, here are the materials you requested.” She placed the envelope on the desk and left. I took it, opened it, and flipped through the documents inside. Copy of recruitment announcement – check. Written exam scores – check, ranked third. Interview records – check. Public Notice Document – check. It all looked very complete. I looked closely at the dates. Recruitment announcement issue date, March 15th. Application deadline, March 18th. Three days. “Chief Patton, for this public recruitment for a doctor position, from announcement to deadline, was it only three days?” “We were in a bit of a rush at the time.” “So rushed that you only gave three days? Standard public recruitment usually has at least a two-week announcement period, and you gave three days.” “The department urgently needed staff…” “How many applicants?” Emily Patton didn’t speak. I flipped to the back; the applicant statistics form stated: four applicants. One was hired out of four. “Four applicants, and your son was hired. Chief Patton, do you honestly think this procedure is compliant?” Jacob finally couldn’t sit still and stood up. “I got in on my own merits! Third in the written exam, first in the interview!” “Third in the written exam out of four people,” I said, flipping further. “Who were the interview panelists?” Interview panel list: Dr. Susan Chen, Head of Medical Affairs; Mr. David Wong, HR Manager; Deputy Chief of Staff, Dr. Robert Lee. “Your mother didn’t participate in the interview, but who holds the power to appoint the interview panelists?” Jacob fell silent. I closed the archive envelope. “I’ll keep this file for now.” “Deputy Director Stone—” Emily Patton took a step forward. “One more question.” I stood up. “Your son publicly slapped me in the cafeteria today. At least thirty to forty people witnessed it. Regardless of his reasons, striking someone in the workplace, how do you intend to handle this?” Emily Patton looked at Jacob. Jacob bit his lip. “Jacob, apologize to Deputy Director Stone.” “An apology is enough?” I said. “Then… what do you suggest?” “It’s not up to me to suggest. Your hospital has an employee management policy; handle it according to that policy. Also, there’s video evidence from bystanders and my body cam recording. If I decide to pursue legal action, your son is looking at assault charges.” Jacob’s face completely lost its color. “I… I didn’t know you were from the Health Commission… I thought you were…” “You thought I was an intern, so it was okay to hit me? Interns can be slapped around by you?” He couldn’t speak. Just then, there was a commotion at the office door. My colleagues had arrived. Sarah had come with Lily. Both carried briefcases, nodded to me upon entering, then each took out a notebook and a voice recorder. “Sarah, take Lily to the fire escape and the inpatient ward. Double-check all the issues I photographed this morning, and document them with photos. Lily, stay here with me to handle the administrative materials.” “Understood.” Sarah took Lily out. Emily Patton stood behind the desk, hands in her pockets, lips pressed together, silent. I turned to her. “Chief Patton, next, I need to review your hospital’s financial statements, equipment procurement lists, personnel hiring records, and patient complaint logs for the past year. Please arrange for someone to prepare them.” “Now?” “Now.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “428139”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

It was the start of the Easter Weekend, and I’d planned to take my electric car—which I’d customized with a full-size bed in the back—camping. Unexpectedly, my buddy showed up with his wife and kid, insisting on hitching a ride, claiming it was just for a short stretch. I had to use the restroom, so I told them to wait in the car. But when I came out, my car was gone. I immediately called him, no answer. I messaged him on social media, only to find I’d been blocked. About half an hour later, he finally replied, nonchalantly saying, “You can still have fun on your own, we’ll just borrow the car for a few days.” Seeing that message, I couldn’t help but laugh. Then, without hesitation, I called the police and reported: my car had been stolen. 1 “Can you really sleep in this car?” Mark leaned his head into my back seat as I was putting up sun shades on the windows. I’d spent two weeks converting this electric car. The back seats folded flat, and with a custom mattress, it became a perfect queen-size bed, about 53 by 75 inches. I even strung up some fairy lights at the head of the bed; it looked like a cozy little Airbnb. “Yep,” I said. “I’m heading to the coast for Easter, going to lie in the car and watch the stars at night.” Mark’s eyes lit up. Whenever his eyes lit up, I knew it meant trouble. “That’s awesome,” he said. “We were looking to get out of town for Easter too. We’ll just hitch a ride with you.” My heart sank. Hitch a ride? I was looking forward to a solo trip to the coast. What “hitch a ride”? “Where’s your wife?” I asked. “She’ll drive her own car.” I breathed a sigh of relief. Then he added, “Or, actually, we’ll just take yours.” I paused. “You have your own car. Why take mine?” Mark started counting on his fingers. “Your EV saves money, man. Pennies a mile, while a gas car is like fifty cents. It’s just for the first leg of the trip for my family of three. We’ll get off there and do our own thing, won’t hold you up.” “Family of three?” “Yeah, my wife Sarah, and our little Maya. You know Maya, she’s five, cute as a button.” My stomach started to churn. Five-year-old girl, cute? Last time I went to his place, Maya ripped a charm off my bag and put it in her mouth. “My car’s got a bed in the back; it can’t fit that many people,” I tried to demur. “It’ll fit, it’ll fit,” Mark said, pulling open the back door and sliding in. “You drive, I’ll ride shotgun, and Sarah and Maya can sit on the bed in the back. Perfect.” Perfect my ass. That was my bed. But Mark was my college buddy, we’d known each other for seven or eight years. He’d helped me move once, even though it was just two boxes, but a favor’s a favor. “Just for a bit,” Mark said, seeing my hesitation, quickly adding, “We’ll get off at the first rest stop, and you can go enjoy your trip. Saves us paying for tolls too.” I hesitated. Just for a moment. “Alright, fine.” When I said those two words, a voice in my head whispered: You’re going to regret this. But I said them anyway. That evening, I posted on Instagram: “Easter EV camping, my mobile sanctuary.” I included nine photos: the big bed, the fairy lights, the mattress, the sun shades, the storage bins, charging cables, a folding table, a coffee maker, and screenshots of coastal guides. Mark instantly liked it and commented: “Can’t wait!” I stared at those two words for a long time. Something felt off. 2 Easter morning, I arrived an hour early at our meeting point. My trunk was packed to the brim: a box of snacks, six instant meals, eight bottles of drinks, four cans of coffee, two bottles of water, plus a thin blanket and a bag of toiletries. The bed was neatly made, pillows in place, sun shades up. I even put an air freshener by the head of the bed, lemon-scented. I stood by the car, feeling pretty good. Then Mark’s family arrived. Sarah was dragging a suitcase, and Maya was perched on her mom’s shoulders, holding a lollipop. “Here we are!” Mark waved at me from a distance. “Your car’s easy to spot, being white and all.” I said, “Hop in. Front seat for you, back for your wife and kid.” Mark pulled open the back door and froze. “Whoa, your bed is huge,” he said. “Maya, quick, get in.” Maya kicked off her shoes and started climbing up. Before I could even say, “Put your shoes on,” she was already stepping on my pillow. One foot. Two feet. Two gray smudges on the white pillow. “Maya, put your shoes on,” I said. Mark interjected, “It’s fine, it’s fine, kids’ feet aren’t dirty.” I looked at the pillow. White, brand new, just arrived last week. “She’s just a kid, don’t sweat it,” Mark said, smiling and patting my shoulder. I didn’t say anything. Maya bounced on the bed a couple of times, the mattress creaking. Her lollipop fell on the bed, leaving a sticky pink stain. She picked it up and put it back in her mouth. Sarah settled into the back, leaning against the mattress, stretching out her long legs, taking up half the bed. “This EV’s back is actually pretty good,” she said. “Bigger than I thought.” Mark got into the passenger seat and buckled up. “Let’s hit the road!” I started the car and merged onto the highway. Less than ten minutes later, Sarah started talking. “What’s the range on this car?” “Four hundred miles.” “Actual?” “About three-fifty.” “How far can that really get you?” Sarah glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You’ll need to charge to get to the coast, right?” “There are charging stations along the way; I’ve planned it out.” “What’s the point of planning?” Sarah said. “Listen to me, take I-95. There are more stations at the rest stops there.” I said, “My route has stations too.” “Your route will be jammed,” Sarah said confidently. “What road isn’t jammed on Easter? I check my navigation every day; I know better than you.” I glanced at Mark. Mark said, “Listen to her, she drives a lot, she’s got experience.” I didn’t say anything, continuing to follow my navigation. Maya started singing in the back. A nursery rhyme, just two lines repeated over and over, very loud, with leg-kicking. Thump, thump against the back of my driver’s seat. “Maya, stop kicking,” I said. Maya kept kicking. “Maya!” Mark called out. Maya paused for half a second, then resumed kicking. “She’s just an energetic little girl,” Sarah said. “This car’s still too small. Next time, get an SUV.” I said, “This is my car.” Sarah chuckled. “I know it’s yours. I’m just saying, an SUV would suit you better.” Maya started rummaging through my storage bin. “Dad, what’s this?” “Don’t touch other people’s stuff.” “I’m just looking.” Thump. Something fell to the floor. Through the rearview mirror, I saw Maya holding an unopened bag of chips. “Those are Uncle Alex’s. Put them back,” Mark said. Maya didn’t put them back. She ripped them open directly. CRACK. The chip bag opened. 3 Everything I’d prepped the day before was now torn open. Maya, as if she were in her own home, pulled things out of the storage bin one by one. Chips, cookies, chocolate, Jell-O cups, yogurt, hot dogs, hard-boiled eggs, chicken feet, sunflower seeds, peanuts, French fries, shrimp crackers, mini muffins, Twinkies, Oreos, Ritz crackers… “Dad, I want this.” “Dad, what’s this?” “Dad, this is good.” Mark kept saying, “Don’t touch other people’s stuff,” but he didn’t stop her from touching a single thing. Maya opened three bags of chips. The original flavor was spilled all over the bed, the tomato flavor smeared on the mattress, and the BBQ flavor scattered into the seat crevices. “Uncle Alex, these chips aren’t good,” Maya said, tossing a half-eaten chip back into the bag. I said, “Maya, if you don’t want to eat it, just set it aside. Don’t throw it back in.” Maya glanced at me, then upended the entire bag of chips onto the floor. Mark quickly said, “She didn’t mean to. I’ll buy you more later.” Later. I knew that word all too well. Last time he borrowed fifty bucks from me, he said, “I’ll pay you back later.” It took him two years to pay me back, and when he did, he said, “You’re not short on cash anyway.” Maya started on the next item: instant meals. All six instant meals were opened, seasoning packets scattered all over the bed. Chili oil dripped onto the mattress, staining a large red patch. “Those need water; don’t mess with them,” I said, a little agitated. Sarah picked one up and looked at it. “Instant meals, huh? I’m hungry. Make one?” “Those are for my lunch.” “You can have mine first. I’ll buy you more later.” Mark pulled a granola bar out of his bag and offered it to me. “Here, hold yourself over.” I didn’t take it. That granola bar was a dollar store special. My instant meals were gourmet, eight bucks each. Maya then opened the drinks. All eight bottles were taken out of the box, unscrewed one by one, a sip taken from each, then put down. Half a bottle of cola, half a bottle of Sprite, an unscrewed iced tea bottle was turned upside down directly onto the mattress. “Maya!” I finally raised my voice. Maya froze, her mouth puckered, about to cry. Mark’s face changed. “Don’t yell at her! She’s just a kid.” I said, “My mattress is all wet.” “We’ll wash it when we get back.” “Will it even come clean?” “If it doesn’t, we’ll buy you a new one.” Mark said this without even looking at me. Sarah chimed in at this point, “This coffee is good.” She took my last can of iced coffee from the box. Blue can, imported, five bucks a can, I’d specifically saved it for an afternoon pick-me-up. She pulled the tab, gulp, gulp, and drank two big mouthfuls. “This brand is just okay,” Sarah said, smacking her lips. “Too sweet. Next time I’ll recommend one to you, from Japan, that one’s really good.” I said, “That’s my coffee.” “I know it’s yours. I never said I wouldn’t pay you back. I’ll bring you a whole case later.” Later. Again with “later.” Maya started opening the chicken feet. Pickled pepper flavor. She opened it, dropped it on the mattress, and chili oil smeared another spot. She picked it up with her hand, gnawed on it a couple of times, and then tossed it beside my pillow. “Maya, if you’re going to eat, eat properly. Don’t throw it everywhere,” I said. “She is eating,” Mark said. “When did you get so uptight?” I took a deep breath. Through the rearview mirror, I saw the back seat was a disaster. The mattress was covered in snack crumbs, several chili oil stains, the pillow askew, the pink lollipop stain dried and sticky. The storage bin was half-empty, things scattered everywhere. Maya sat amidst a pile of wrappers, her hands covered in chip crumbs, wiping them on the mattress. Sarah leaned against the bed, her phone blasting short videos, laughing loudly. “Look at this one, LOL, I’m dying.” I glanced at Mark. He was on his phone. “You guys are getting off at the first rest stop, right?” I asked. “Yeah,” Mark said, without looking up. “That rest stop ahead. We’ll get off there.” I looked at the navigation. Thirteen miles left. Thirteen miles, I thought. Just bear with it. I looked at the ruined mattress and the empty can of my iced coffee, and I didn’t say a word. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. Thirteen miles. Almost there. 4 “Here we are, this rest stop!” I checked the navigation. The first rest stop. A sigh of relief. Finally, I could get this burden out of my car. I put on my turn signal and slowly pulled into the rest stop. Mark’s family had been at it for almost two hours in the car. Maya dumped the last bag of chips on the mattress and played with the crumbs. Sarah had her phone’s video volume turned all the way up, laughing nonstop. I parked the car and put on the handbrake. “You guys should gather your things.” I looked back at the rear seat, which was an utter mess. The mattress was covered in snack crumbs, chili oil stains everywhere, drink bottles tipped over. Mark said, “Why don’t you go to the restroom first? We’ll clean up.” I really had to go. I’d been holding it in on the highway. “Okay, but hurry up and pack. I’ll be right back.” I pushed open the car door and walked towards the restroom. The rest stop was crowded. First day of Easter weekend, cars and people everywhere. I waited in line for the restroom, washed my hands, splashed water on my face. It took less than five minutes. I walked back to where I parked. The spot was empty. I froze, thinking I’d remembered the wrong spot. I looked at the cars next to it: a black SUV, a gray minivan. No, this was it. My white EV was gone. I stood there, staring at the empty parking space for three seconds. No way. I pulled out my phone and called Mark. Ring—ring—ring— No answer. I called a second time. Ring—ring—ring— Still no answer. I called Sarah’s phone. “The number you have dialed is currently switched off.” Switched off? I called Maya’s smart watch. Mark had bought his daughter a kids’ watch that could make calls. “The number you have dialed is currently busy.” Busy? I stood in the rest stop parking lot, phone to my ear, listening to the repeated rings. The May sun was quite strong. Cars everywhere. People everywhere. But I didn’t know a single soul. I called Mark again. Third time. Fourth time. Fifth time. All went unanswered. I opened my messaging app. “Mark, where are you guys?” Sent. No reply. “Sarah, where did you guys drive the car?” Sent. No reply. “Why can’t I reach Maya’s watch?” Sent. No reply. I checked the message status. Sent, but unread. Had they blocked me? Or just not seen it? I started searching the rest stop. I walked a full circle around the parking lot, nothing. Walked to the gas station, seven or eight cars in line, but no white EV. Walked to the restaurant, lots of people, but no Mark, no Sarah, no Maya. I stood at the restaurant entrance, palms sweating. They wouldn’t just leave me. Impossible. I was the car owner. It was my car. How could they? I pulled out my phone again, this time not calling, but sending voice messages. “Mark, where are you? Stop messing around.” Sent. No reply. “Sarah, answer your phone. What’s going on?” Sent. No reply. I stood in the rest stop, the sun burning my neck. An older lady next to me glanced at me and asked, “Young man, what’s wrong?” I said, “My family drove away with my car.” She said, “Call them.” I said, “They’re not answering.” The lady shook her head and walked away. 5 I stood at the rest stop for ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Twenty minutes. My phone remained silent. I kept checking my messages; all were unread. I started to consider all possibilities. Maybe Maya was sleepy, and they drove a bit further to a quiet spot to pull over? Maybe the rest stop was too noisy, so they moved to another spot to wait for me? Maybe Sarah thought it was too crowded here and drove ahead to the gas station? But I knew none of these were right. Because my phone was in my hand. If they were looking for me, they would just call. They didn’t. Twenty-one minutes. I called Mark. Still no answer. Twenty-two minutes. I called Sarah. Still switched off. Twenty-five minutes. I called Maya’s watch. Still busy. At the twenty-eighth minute, my messaging app suddenly chimed. Mark had replied. Not text, but a voice message. I tapped it. Mark’s voice came through, cheerful, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, sorry, Maya said she was sleepy, so we just left first. You can just find a place to chill on your own, it’s not like it costs much. We’ll just borrow the car for a few days, bring it back when we’re done.” After listening to that voice message, I froze. Borrow it for a few days? Bring it back when they’re done? Was this something a person would say? I immediately sent a voice message back: “You guys are stealing my car.” Sent. This time Mark replied quickly, typing. “Don’t be so petty, man. We’re buddies.” We’re buddies. You call this being buddies? I called him directly. It rang twice, then he picked up. “Mark, bring the car back.” “Oh, come on, we’re already on the highway. How are we supposed to turn back?” “Get off the highway now, turn around and come back.” “Turning around is such a hassle, it’ll take hours. Just let us borrow it for a few days, okay?” “I didn’t agree.” “Didn’t you tell us to get off at the first rest stop? We’re already here, at the rest stop you mentioned. We just didn’t get out of the car, that’s all.” I took a deep breath. “You guys promised to get off.” “Maya was sleepy, you know. The kid’s welfare is important. You’re alone, you’re fine. Just find a place to stay.” “All my stuff is in the car.” “Your stuff isn’t worth much. I’ll replace it later.” “What about my car? Is the car not worth much either?” Mark paused on his end, then said, “Don’t be so hot-headed. We’re just borrowing it for a few days, it’s not like we’re not giving it back.” “When are you giving it back?” “When we’re done having fun, at the end of Easter weekend, I guess.” End of Easter weekend? Today was May 29th; there were still four days left in the holiday. “Give it back now.” “What’s wrong with you?” Mark’s voice changed. “I told you Maya was sleepy, and you’re insisting we get off the highway. Are you sick or something?” “Stealing my car and calling me sick?” “It’s not stealing! I’m just driving it!” “You didn’t have my permission.” “Maya was sleepy! Don’t you understand a kid being sleepy?” “That’s your problem. Now, drive the car to the nearest rest stop and wait for the police.” “Are you insane? Calling the police on your own friend? Do you have any conscience?” “You steal my car, and you’re talking about conscience?” Mark suddenly started crying on the other end, a full-blown wail. “Officer, you be the judge! I just drove my friend’s car for a bit, and he wants to arrest me! Is there really such a person?” The officer took the phone back. “Sir, please drive the vehicle to the nearest rest stop and cooperate with the investigation. Driving a vehicle without the owner’s permission is a potential legal offense.” “I haven’t broken the law! He agreed!” “The owner now says he did not agree.” “He’s lying!” “Then please come back for a face-to-face confrontation.” Mark fell silent on the other end. After a few seconds, the call ended. The officer called again, but it was switched off. The officer looked at me. “They’ve turned their phones off.” I said, “I know. That’s just how they are.” The officer made a few more notes in his notebook, then picked up the desk phone and made a call. “Hello, command center? This is I-95 Rest Area here, we have a motor vehicle theft case. License plate [XXX], white EV [Make/Model], currently located on I-95 North, about ninety miles from here. Please assist in interception at the next toll booth.” After hanging up, the officer turned to me. “Please have a seat. We’re handling it.” I sat in the chair in the police station, looking at the large words “Serve the People” posted on the wall. My phone vibrated. I looked down. Not Mark. It was a notification from the Tesla app. “Vehicle powered off.” They had stopped the car.

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