1 Ronan spent six years photographing wildlife, and I stayed by his side as he rose from an unknown amateur to a signed professional. During his hardest year, I drained my savings for him—camera lenses, off-road rentals, shooting permits. Last year, when he was nominated for an international award, I asked if I could join him in the Yukon to see the timber wolves he always talked about. He didn’t look up, just kept wiping his lens. “Conditions are too brutal. You aren’t cut out for it.” I said okay and never asked again. This May, a major outdoor magazine released a Wilderness Photographers Special Edition. Ronan was on the cover, locked in a standoff with a lone wolf, rugged and impossibly handsome. The credit listed two names: Ronan and Lily. Inside, a candid showed them clinking tin mugs by a bonfire. He was smiling, relaxed, his arm draped over her shoulder. The caption read: Best partner. Forty days in the tundra. Couldn’t have done it without you. I set the magazine down, brewed my coffee, and drank in silence. Then I booked a one-way ticket to Banff National Park. For six years, I had stayed in the city managing his life so he could chase his dreams. If there was no room for me in his wilderness, I would go see the snow-capped mountains alone. … “Megan, Lily is taking the guest room tonight.” The front door pushed open. Ronan strode into the entryway, dropping three massive waterproof gear duffels onto the floor. It was his first day back from the Yukon expedition. I was sitting on the couch, holding a mug of coffee that had gone completely cold. I looked past him. Lily peeked out from behind his broad shoulders. She was wearing an oversized men’s Arc’teryx hardshell jacket. “Hey Megan, sorry to crash here!” She giggled, casually slipping her feet into a pair of fluffy pink house slippers by the shoe rack. Those were my slippers. Ronan kicked his boots off. “A pipe burst in her apartment building. The landlord hasn’t fixed it yet, so she is going to stay with us for a few days.” “The guest room is my art studio,” I said. It was packed with my drawing tablets, canvases, and the commissioned drafts I was working on. “I won’t take up much space, I promise.” Lily walked right past me, reaching for the water pitcher on the coffee table. “And I totally swear I won’t touch any of your precious little paintbrushes.” She poured a glass of water and gulped down half of it. “God, Ronan, I am dying of thirst.” She didn’t call him Mr. Ronan or boss. Just Ronan. Ronan shrugged off his jacket. Without a second thought, he took the glass from her hand and drained the rest of her water. The movement was painfully natural. Like they had done it a thousand times. “Just tidy up the studio a bit and clear enough space for a bed,” he said, turning to me. His tone was a corporate memo. An order, not a discussion. “There is no bed in there.” I stared at the glass they had just shared. “There is only a pull out sofa, and my wet oil paintings are currently drying on it.” Ronan frowned. “Then move the paintings to the living room. Lily just survived forty days in the freezing tundra. Her back is killing her. I am not making her sleep on a lumpy sofa.” Her back was killing her. Six years ago, when he shot his first starry night time lapse, he was too broke to afford a thermal tent. I stood in the snow in ten degree weather, keeping him company for three nights straight. The extreme hypothermia wrecked my immune system and left me with severe chronic pelvic cramps. Every month, I was in so much pain I couldn’t even stand up straight. He forgot. I stood up and walked toward the studio. “Fine. I will clear it out.” “You are the best, Megan!” Lily called out behind me. I carried the oil paintings out one by one, leaning them against the corner of the living room. I pulled out the folding mattress. I laid down fresh, clean sheets. When I walked back out, Ronan was sitting on the living room rug, unzipping his gear bags and pulling out dry sacks. Lily was sitting cross legged right beside him. “Ronan, hand me the red bag.” She pointed at a corner of the duffel. Ronan pulled out a red waterproof sack and tossed it to her. Lily opened it and dumped a pile of souvenirs onto the rug. There was a wolf tooth pendant, a few raw quartz stones, and a braided leather bracelet with a piece of turquoise. “Help me put this turquoise one on.” She held out her wrist, leaning in close to him. Ronan set his camera down. He picked up the bracelet and carefully fastened the clasp around her wrist. “Perfect fit,” he chuckled. “Duh. You handpicked it for me.” I stood two steps away, watching them. Ronan looked up and finally noticed me. His expression froze for a fraction of a second before snapping back to normal. “Megan, come look at this.” He pointed at the floor. “The locals at the trading post gave these to us. Lily picked out a few, see if you like anything that is left.” Anything that is left. I walked over and looked down. A few dull, gray rocks and a cheaply made wooden beaded necklace. “Where is the hand braided alpine wool bracelet you promised me?” I asked calmly. Before he left for the Yukon, he told me about a local Indigenous artisan who wove bracelets from naturally shed wildlife wool. It was supposed to symbolize peace and protection. I told him I wanted one. He had promised me he would get it. Ronan froze. His hand dug around in the dry sack. His movements grew slower and slower. “About that…” “Oh my gosh, Megan, I am so sorry.” Lily suddenly cut in, raising her right hand. Right next to the turquoise, wrapped around her wrist, was a beautifully crafted, authentic alpine wool bracelet. “We only found one at the trading post.” Her voice was thick with innocent guilt, laced with a sickly sweet whine. “Ronan said I worked so hard carrying the heavy tripods in the tundra, so he gave it to me as a reward.” She stroked the woven threads. “You aren’t mad at me, are you?” I didn’t look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Ronan. “You gave it to her?” “It is just a piece of string.” Ronan avoided my gaze, picking his lens cloth back up. “They sell that stuff everywhere up there. We were on a tight shooting schedule, I didn’t have time to shop around.” “Next time. I will buy you a dozen of them next time.” Next time. For six years, those were his favorite two words. When he couldn’t afford a diamond ring, he said he would make it up to me next time. When he missed my birthday because he was on a shoot, he promised to double the celebration next time. And now, even a simple, promised bracelet was pushed to next time. “Megan, if you really love it that much, I can take it off and give it to you.” Lily made a big show of tugging at the clasp. She fumbled with it for a few seconds. “Ugh, the knot is tied way too tight.” “Forget it. Leave it on.” Ronan grabbed her hand, stopping her. He looked up at me. “Megan, are you seriously going to make a scene over this? Lily bruised her legs up hiking through the brush to find my camera angles. Is it a crime to give her a souvenir?” His tone was dripping with impatience. He thought I was being irrational. He thought I was petty and jealous. I looked at his hand, still resting protectively over Lily’s fingers. Long, elegant fingers. Prominent knuckles. Those were the hands I had babied and cared for over six years of my youth. I took extra commissions and stayed up until dawn just so those hands could hold expensive cameras. Now, those hands were protecting another woman. “No. It isn’t a crime.” I said softly. I turned around and walked toward the kitchen. “There are frozen dumplings in the fridge. You can boil them yourself.” “I am not hungry.” Ronan called out behind me. I didn’t look back. I unlocked my phone and opened my Expedia app. My flight to Banff National Park was already paid in full. Departure date. Three days from now. 2 The next day was Saturday. The outdoor magazine hosted a small, exclusive book signing and networking event to celebrate Ronan’s special edition selling over a hundred thousand copies. At eight in the morning, I was standing in the kitchen frying eggs. Ronan emerged from the bedroom, fully dressed and immaculate. He wore a black turtleneck under a premium Arc’teryx jacket gifted by his sponsors. He looked sharp. Triumphant. “I am heading out. Gotta set up the venue by nine.” He walked to the entryway to put on his shoes. I slid the fried egg onto a plate and carried it out. “Am I not going?” I asked him. He paused, his hand hovering over his boot laces. He stood up straight and adjusted his collar. “Why would you go?” “It is strictly industry people today. Sponsors, editors, rival photographers.” “You aren’t in the business. You wouldn’t know what to talk about. You would just sit there looking bored.” I set the plate down on the dining table. “Six years ago, when you self published your first photo book, you didn’t sell a single copy.” “I stood out in the blistering sun, handing them out to strangers, begging people to look at your work.” “Why didn’t you tell me I wasn’t in the business back then?” Ronan’s brows pulled together. He hated it when I brought up the past. “Megan, do you always have to keep score?” “Things are different now. Today is an official, professional event. I have to network. I don’t have the energy to babysit you.” He sounded so incredibly righteous. The door to the guest room clicked open. Lily walked out, stifling a yawn. She was wearing the exact same Arc’teryx jacket, just a size smaller. Matching outfits. “Morning, Ronan.” She strolled over to the dining table. Without asking, she picked up the fried egg from my plate and took a massive bite. “Mmm. You are such a good cook, Megan.” “Finish up, we need to move. The chief editor is already on his way.” Ronan rushed her, but his voice lacked any of the cold impatience he had just directed at me. I looked at the two of them. “She is allowed to go?” “Lily is the co-author of this special edition. Of course she is going.” Ronan spoke as if it was the most obvious truth in the world. “She is my best partner.” Best partner. What a beautiful title. “Got it.” I sat down and took a sip of my milk. “Have a good time.” Ronan gave me a weird look. He seemed unnerved by how unnaturally calm I was acting. He opened his mouth to say something, but swallowed the words instead. The front door clicked shut. I sat alone and quietly finished a breakfast with no eggs. At eleven in the morning, my phone rang. It was Sloane. Sloane was my college roommate and the senior editor at a fashion magazine. “Megan, have you checked Instagram?” “No. Why?” “Your boy Ronan is soaking up all the glory at his little signing event.” “Good for him.” “Good for him my ass! Open Lily’s page right now!” Sloane was practically screaming through the speaker. I put her on speakerphone and opened the app. Lily had posted a photo dump ten minutes ago. The center photo showed her and Ronan standing in front of a massive promotional banner. Ronan was holding a microphone, addressing the crowd. Lily stood right beside him, her head tilted, looking up at him with pure, unfiltered adoration. The caption read: “All those freezing nights in the snow, all the frostbitten fingers in the tundra. Today, it was all worth it.” “Thank you, Ronan.” The comments were flooded with industry insiders. “Power couple alert!” “Lily, you are a legend. Ronan is lucky to have you.” I scrolled through the comments one by one. Staring at the blinding, toxic words. “You see it?” Sloane demanded over the phone. “I see it.” “Megan, are you literally blind? Half the photos in that magazine were color graded and retouched by you during your all nighters.” “The thirty thousand dollars he needed to fund that Yukon trip? You took out a second mortgage on your parents’ old house for that!” “And now some clout chasing assistant is standing on that stage soaking up your applause!” Sloane was breathing heavily, absolutely furious. I looked calmly out the window at the midday sun. “Sloane.” “What?” “I booked a one way ticket to Banff.” The line went dead silent. It took several seconds for Sloane to find her voice. When she spoke, it was low and quiet. “Are you serious?” “Yeah.” “You aren’t coming back?” “I am not coming back.” “Good.” Sloane let out a long, heavy exhale. “Do you need help packing?” “No. I can handle it myself.” I hung up the phone and walked into the master bedroom. I pulled open the bottom drawer of the closet. Two large, heavy duty suitcases were tucked inside. I pulled one out and started stuffing my clothes into it. I didn’t own much. Over the last six years, every spare dollar I earned went straight into upgrading Ronan’s camera lenses. The closet was stuffed with his expensive Arc’teryx and Mammut gear. My warmest winter coat was a clearance rack parka I bought three years ago. My phone buzzed. It was Ronan. “Megan.” The background noise was chaotic. People were cheering his name. “What is it?” “I left my black external hard drive at the apartment. The one terabyte one.” He sounded frantic. “It is in the second drawer on the left side of my desk. Can you bring it to the hotel right now?” “I have a massive media interview in twenty minutes and I need the raw video files on it.” I looked down at the sweater I was folding. “I am busy.” “Busy doing what? Drawing your cheap little three hundred dollar commissions?” The insult slipped out of his mouth effortlessly. He caught himself a second later. “Megan, I didn’t mean it like that. This interview is huge. The chief editor set it up personally.” “I am begging you. Just do me this one favor, okay?” I closed my eyes. For six years, every single “cheap little commission” I drew funded the film inside his cameras. Now, he thought my work was a waste of time. “Fine. I will bring it.” “Thank you. Call me when you get here.” He hung up immediately. I dropped the sweater into the suitcase and zipped it up. I walked into his office, grabbed the black drive from the drawer, and ordered an Uber to the event hotel. The banquet hall was packed and roaring with conversation. I didn’t go inside. I stood in the quiet hallway near the side entrance and texted Ronan. “I am at the side door.” I waited five minutes. The heavy oak door swung open. It wasn’t Ronan. It was Lily. She was holding a flute of champagne. Her cheeks were flushed. “Hey Megan, Ronan is stuck on stage. He asked me to come grab it.” She held out her hand. I looked at her. “Tell him to come get it himself.” Lily let out an exaggerated sigh. “Megan, can you please stop being so difficult?” “The room is full of major investors. Ronan is telling them all about our near death experiences in the Yukon.” “If you drag him out here right now, you are going to ruin the vibe for everyone.” She hit the word “our” incredibly hard. I ignored her and turned to leave. “Megan!” Ronan’s voice echoed behind me. He pushed the side door open and stormed out, his brow furrowed in anger. “What kind of tantrum are you throwing now?” He snatched the hard drive directly out of my hand. “Lily was nice enough to come out here to help you, and you give her an attitude?” I stared at my empty palm. “She told me to stop being difficult.” “Is she wrong?” Ronan lowered his voice, his tone dripping with disappointment. “Today is the most important day of my career. If you can’t be helpful, the least you could do is not sabotage me.” Sabotage. I repeated the word in my head. “I guess after six years, the only thing I am good for is sabotaging you.” Ronan tugged at his collar, visibly irritated. “I don’t have time to argue with you.” He turned back to the door and glanced at Lily. “Come on, Lily. The boss wants to talk to you.” The heavy door clicked shut. Locking me completely out of his glamorous, glittering new world. I stood alone in the hallway. I could hear the muffled applause from inside, followed by Ronan’s confident, booming voice. “I want to thank my team, especially Lily. Without her, none of this would have been possible.” I shoved my hands into my jacket pockets. I turned and walked toward the elevator. That was the last delivery I would ever make for him. 3 By late afternoon, the sky turned a bruised, ugly gray. Thick storm clouds suffocated the city. I dragged an old cardboard box out from the corner of the studio. I started packing away my life. My coffee mugs, my throw pillows, my half used tubes of acrylic paint. I tossed them into the box one by one. Suddenly, a familiar, agonizing spasm ripped through my stomach. It felt like a jagged knife twisting in my gut. I dropped the tape dispenser, clutching my stomach, and collapsed onto the armrest of the couch. The pain didn’t fade. It crawled up my spine, triggering a cold sweat that instantly soaked my shirt. It was the chronic ulcer flaring up. The permanent souvenir from standing in the freezing snow six years ago. The doctor had warned me. No physical exhaustion. No severe emotional stress. I pulled out my phone with shaking hands and called Ronan. It rang forever before he finally answered. The background noise was deafening. Club music and the clinking of glasses. “Yeah?” Ronan shouted into the phone. “Ronan, my ulcer is flaring up.” I gritted my teeth, forcing my voice to stay level. “It is bad. Can you come home and take me to the ER?” The line went quiet for a second. “Your ulcer?” It sounded like he had stepped into a quieter hallway. “Why is it acting up now? Did you take your meds?” “I took them. They aren’t working. I can’t even stand up.” “Hold on a second.” He covered the microphone, but I could still hear Lily’s voice bleeding through. “Ronan! The investors are asking about your availability next month. Get in here and take a shot!” Ronan’s voice returned to the line. “Megan, the party is just peaking. All the VIPs are here.” “Can you just call an Uber and go to the ER yourself? I will come find you as soon as I wrap up here.” Go by yourself. Through the blinding pain, I actually let out a weak laugh. “Ronan, I am in so much pain I can’t even walk to the lobby.” “Don’t you have those prescription painkillers? Just pop two and tough it out.” A sliver of annoyance crept into his voice. “Megan, I really can’t leave right now. This is the turning point of my entire career. Can you just be understanding for once?” Understanding. I always had to be understanding. I had to understand when he was broke. I had to understand when he neglected me. I had to understand why he needed a “partner.” “Okay.” I said softly. Beep. Beep. Beep. He had already hung up. I closed my eyes and tossed the phone onto the rug. Gripping the edge of the couch, I forced myself to stand. Inch by inch, I dragged my body to the front door and shoved my feet into my boots. The rain was pouring in sheets by the time I made it to the lobby. There were no cabs on the street. The Uber queue was fifty people deep. I stood under the awning for ten minutes. The freezing wind sliced right through my thin jacket. The cramps were so violent I dropped to my knees on the wet concrete. Headlights cut through the rain. A black Land Rover turned into the driveway, its hazard lights flashing. It was Ronan’s car. For a split second, I thought he actually had a conscience. I thought he came back for me. I braced myself against the pillar to stand up. The driver’s side window rolled down. It wasn’t Ronan. It was Lily. She was wearing that oversized Arc’teryx jacket, leaning her head out into the rain. “Megan?” She looked down at me crouching in the storm, her eyes wide with fake shock. “What are you doing sitting out here? Didn’t Ronan say you were sick in bed?” I stared at her. “Why are you driving his car?” “Oh, Ronan had a few drinks. He couldn’t drive.” She patted the leather steering wheel. “I am sober, so he told me to take his baby for a spin. I just came back to grab something.” “Grab what?” “Ronan left a specific lens cap on his desk. He said he needs it for the afterparty, so he sent me to fetch it.” A lens cap. I was sweating through my clothes in agony, stranded in a storm. And he sent her to drive his prized car back to our apartment… for a piece of plastic. “Megan, do you need a ride to the hospital? But Ronan told me to hurry back. They are all waiting for me.” Lily bit her lip, performing a perfect mask of hesitation. “Do you mind waiting for a cab?” I didn’t say a word. Holding onto the concrete pillar, I slowly pulled myself up until I was standing straight. “Don’t bother.” I turned my back on her and walked straight into the downpour. The freezing rain battered my face, but the icy shock somehow dulled the twisting fire in my stomach. I walked out to the main avenue and flagged down a taxi that had just dropped someone off. “City General ER,” I told the driver. I didn’t look back at the Land Rover. The emergency room was a chaotic nightmare. I registered alone. I got my blood drawn alone. I sat in a plastic chair in the corner of the IV room alone. The harsh fluorescent lights burned my eyes. I watched the clear medicine drip into my vein, drop by drop. I pulled out my phone. No texts from Ronan. Nothing. Just a single voice memo from Sloane. “Megan, are you okay? Have you seen the video Lily just posted?” I opened Instagram. Ten minutes ago, Lily had updated her story. It was a five second clip. In the video, Ronan was sitting on a plush leather VIP couch in a club, looking at his phone. Lily’s voice giggled from behind the camera. “Ronan, you lost! Truth or dare?” Ronan looked up, flashing a helpless, charming smile. “Dare.” “Perfect.” Lily’s voice was dripping with sugar. “I dare you to let me drive your car to the shoot tomorrow.” Ronan’s Land Rover was his baby. He took out a massive loan to buy it two years ago. He was obsessive about it. He never let anyone touch the steering wheel. When I got my license, I asked him to teach me how to drive it. He had said: “Your spatial awareness is terrible. The clearance is too high. If you scratch it, the paint job costs a fortune.” In the video. Ronan tossed his keys onto the glass table. “Fine. It is yours.” His tone was completely indulgent. He didn’t hesitate for a second. I closed the app. The pain in my stomach had officially gone completely numb. Drip. Drip. Drip. By the time the two IV bags were empty, it was 3 AM. The rain had stopped. I walked out of the hospital into the dead, empty streets. I took a cab back to the apartment. I pushed the door open. The living room was pitch black. Ronan hadn’t come home. The guest room door was slightly open. It was empty too. They had gone out to celebrate. They pulled an all nighter. I flipped on the lights. I walked over to the coffee table and swept the bottle of prescription painkillers directly into the trash can. Then I walked into the bedroom and pulled out the suitcase I had started packing earlier. I moved with clinical precision. My toothbrush and towel from the bathroom. My autumn sweaters from the closet. My charging cables from the nightstand. This apartment was suffocatingly full of his presence. The physical space I occupied was pathetic. It took exactly one suitcase and two garment bags to pack up six years of my life. I rolled the suitcase to the entryway. I glanced at the paper calendar hanging on the wall. Today was May 27th. The day after tomorrow was May 29th. Not only was it the day my flight left for Banff. It was also the exact date of my six year anniversary with Ronan. 4 May 29th. Two in the afternoon. I shoved my final jacket into my suitcase and zipped it up. Right on cue, the delivery driver knocked on the door. I had ordered a tiny, artisanal strawberry cake. Ronan hated sweets. Every anniversary before this, I always ordered a small cake meant for two. This year, I ordered a cake meant for one. I set the cake on the dining table and unboxed it. I placed a single candle on top. I didn’t light it. The sound of a key turning in the lock echoed through the apartment. The door burst open. Ronan practically sprinted inside. He didn’t even bother taking his muddy boots off, tracking dirt across the hardwood floor. He made a beeline for his gear cabinet. “Lily is waiting in the car downstairs. I don’t have time to change.” He spoke rapidly, aggressively shoving telephoto lenses into his camera bag. “What is the rush?” I sat at the dining table, watching his chaotic back. “What happened?” “Huge news.” Ronan’s voice was buzzing with adrenaline. “One of Lily’s contacts in the forestry service found fresh footprints of a ghost puma in the northern ranges.” “Do you know how insane that is? Nobody has photographed a big cat in that sector in a decade!” “We have to leave right this second to beat the National Geographic crews to the location.” He yanked the zipper shut and slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. “How long will you be gone?” I asked. “Hard to say. Two weeks, maybe a month. Wildlife doesn’t run on a schedule.” He spun around, ready to bolt out the door. His eyes swept past the dining table. He saw the tiny strawberry cake. He saw me sitting quietly in front of it. He froze. His boots stopped moving. “What is today?” His brows knitted together, his brain desperately scrambling for context. I just looked at him. I didn’t say a word. Several agonizing seconds passed. A look of profound guilt washed over his face. “Today… is our six year anniversary?” He finally remembered. “Megan, I am so sorry.” He walked over, resting his hands on the edge of the dining table. “This tip was completely unexpected. I cannot lose this shot.” “When I get back, I promise I will make it up to you.” “What do you want? A designer bag? That diamond necklace you were looking at last month? I will buy whatever you want when I get home.” He always used money to patch over his emotional absence. Even though he wasn’t exactly rich, he genuinely believed throwing a credit card at a problem erased the damage. “No need.” I stood up. I picked up the cake knife. I sliced the strawberry cake perfectly in half. “You can go.” Ronan let out a visible sigh of relief. “Megan, I knew you would understand.” He stepped around the table, reaching his arms out to pull me into a hug. I shifted my weight and stepped cleanly out of his reach. His arms hung awkwardly in the empty air. He slowly lowered them. “Are you still mad I didn’t pick you up from the ER?” He let out a heavy sigh. “I told you, I had too much to drink. I couldn’t drive. Lily was just doing me a favor grabbing my gear.” “Stop looking at her like she is the enemy. She is basically one of the guys.” Honk. Honk. The aggressive blare of a car horn echoed from the street below. Lily was getting impatient. “Ronan! Hustle up! If we don’t leave now we won’t make it to the trailhead before sunset!” Her voice pierced right through the window glass. Ronan instantly straightened his posture. “I really have to go.” He walked to the entryway and pushed the door open. He looked back at me one last time. “Take care of yourself. Don’t forget your ulcer meds.” “Bye.” The door slammed shut. The impact made my coffee mug rattle against the table. I walked over to the window and pulled back the curtain. The black Land Rover was idling by the curb. Ronan tossed his heavy bag into the backseat and climbed into the passenger side. Lily was in the driver’s seat. She leaned over the center console, intimately grabbing the seatbelt to buckle him in. They shared a bright, excited smile before the engine roared, and the car sped out of the complex. I watched the taillights disappear around the corner. I walked back to the dining table. I picked up a fork and took a bite of the strawberry cake. It was sweet. Sickeningly, artificially sweet. I picked up the plate, walked over to the trash can, and dumped the rest of the cake inside. I walked to the entryway. I took the silver apartment key off my keychain—the key I had used for six years—and placed it gently on top of the shoe cabinet. Then I grabbed the handles of my two suitcases. I walked out. I pulled the door shut until it clicked and locked tight. At four in the afternoon, I arrived at the airport. Check in. Security. The departure gate. I moved through every step with absolute, terrifying calm. The PA system chimed, announcing the final boarding call for my flight to Calgary. I unlocked my phone and opened my text thread with Ronan. The last message on the screen was the one I sent in the pouring rain two days ago: “I am at the side door.” I tapped the settings icon in the top right corner. Scroll to the bottom. Delete Contact. The second my thumb hit the red confirmation button, it was over. Six years of history, completely wiped clean. I grabbed my suitcase handle and walked down the jet bridge. His Land Rover was speeding toward the forest. My plane was taking off for the snow capped peaks.

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1 In the dead of night, my best friend Jen Blake burst into the emergency staff room in tears. She grabbed my white coat, her voice shaking. “Audrey, the old woman out front has lost it. She brought a bunch of relatives from the sticks, smashed a tray, and started cussing everyone out.” “I’m scared. We’re short-staffed tonight. Can you go restrain her for me?” I opened my drawer, took out my fingerless sparring gloves, and carefully wiped them down with antiseptic. I was fully prepared to deliver a round of knuckle-based sedation. Then several glowing lines drifted across my vision. 【LMAO, the villainess has no idea the old lady’s son is a tech billionaire, and those “country relatives” are plainclothes bodyguards he hired.】 【In her last life, she rushed in and punched the old lady out. Bennett Shaw got her medical license revoked and sued her into bankruptcy. Delicious.】 【She never figured out the old lady was just hypoglycemic and cranky, and only knocked over the tray by accident.】 【Our heroine Jen already knows Bennett wants to hire a doctor who can fight. She’s removing Audrey, the combat champion, in advance.】 I read the comments, slid the gloves back into the drawer, and smiled at Jen. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Well, hello there. At the healthiest age of my life, I had finally met the person I most wanted to protect. Myself. “Audrey, don’t go easy on her. That old lady is crazy. Just knock her out and be done with it.” Jen hid behind me, clutching the hem of my coat. Her voice was low, but the excitement beneath it was impossible to miss. I ignored her and calmly pushed the gloves deeper into the drawer. “You’re not wearing them?” Jen froze. Panic flashed across her eyes. “To deal with an old lady? I don’t need those.” I casually pulled two tubes of high-concentration oral glucose from the medicine cabinet and slipped them into my coat pocket. The floating comments went wild. 【Hahaha, this idiot isn’t even wearing gloves now. Is she planning to deliver herself barehanded?】 【Jen’s borrowed-knife murder plan is smooth. If the old woman gets hurt, Audrey’s life is over.】 【Can’t wait to see Bennett’s bodyguards pin Audrey to the floor.】 I walked out of the staff room without a word. The ER lobby was a mess. Several broad men in black suits surrounded a stretcher, anxious and helpless. Beside it, a gray-haired old woman clutched her chest, cold sweat pouring down her face. Her hands spasmed uncontrollably. With one wild sweep, she sent a medical tray crashing to the floor. Gauze, forceps, and stainless-steel tools scattered everywhere. “Get away! All of you, get away from me!” Her voice was weak but irritable. One of the men in black shouted toward the intake desk, red-eyed with panic. “Where are the doctors? Is everyone in this hospital dead?” Jen shoved me from behind. “Audrey, go! That guy in black is yelling at us. Put him in an arm lock!” She sounded outraged, but her voice trembled like a leaf. I took two steps forward with the momentum of her push, my gaze locking on the old woman’s pale lips and trembling fingertips. Classic severe hypoglycemia with palpitations. “Sir, calm down.” I strode forward and pushed past the largest man in black. He frowned and reached out to block me. “Who are you? Don’t touch Mrs. Shaw!” My eyes sharpened. My left hand caught his wrist, pressed precisely against his pulse point, and redirected his force downward. A clean defensive release. The two-hundred-pound man dropped to one knee. 【Holy crap, that technique was actually hot.】 【Hot? She touched Bennett Shaw’s bodyguard. She’s dead.】 The other men in black closed in. The air turned tense. I ignored them. With my right hand, I caught the old woman’s jaw and pressed hard into the pressure point between her thumb and forefinger. She cried out, and her clenched teeth loosened. I immediately bit open the glucose tubes and poured them neatly into her mouth. “Swallow,” I said, calm and firm. “What the hell are you doing?” The bodyguard I had pinned broke free and swung at me. A gust of wind brushed past my ear. Just as his fist was about to hit my face, the old woman suddenly sucked in a breath. Some clarity returned to her cloudy eyes. “Stop… Aaron, don’t…” The man froze mid-punch and stared at her in shock. “Ma’am? Are you feeling better?” The old woman panted heavily. Color finally returned to her face. She waved weakly and looked at me with gratitude. “Sugar water… thank you, young doctor.” I released her and straightened my coat. “Hypoglycemia can cause agitation and confusion. Next time, keep candy or glucose tablets with her.” Aaron wiped sweat from his forehead, embarrassed, and thanked me repeatedly. The crisis passed. The tension in the lobby loosened at once. I turned to Jen, who was hiding several yards away. Her face was livid. She bit her lip hard, her eyes full of disbelief and resentment. The comments exploded too. 【What’s going on? The villainess didn’t hit anyone? She knows medicine?】 【Duh, she’s an ER doctor. But the plot wasn’t supposed to go like this!】 【Jen’s plan failed. She must be losing her mind right now.】 I looked at Jen and smiled. “Jen, the danger’s over. Are you still hiding over there?” Jen stiffened. Her expression shifted rapidly. Then she suddenly rushed forward, only to “slip” in the most theatrical way possible. She crashed straight into the imported defibrillator that had just been wheeled out beside the stretcher. Bang. Crack. The six-figure defibrillator toppled to the floor, its screen shattering like a spiderweb. Jen let out a piercing scream. She clutched her ankle, collapsed on the ground, pointed at me, and sobbed. “Audrey Vale! How could you randomly feed something to a patient?” “I only wanted to remind you to wait for the attending physician. Why did you push me?” Everyone froze. Rapid footsteps came from the end of the hall. The ER head nurse, Wendy Collins, hurried over with several security guards. The moment Jen saw her, tears poured down her face. She scrambled forward and hugged Wendy’s leg. “Head Nurse Collins, please do something about Audrey!” “She was violent with the patient’s family, and because the equipment was in her way, she smashed the new defibrillator our department just got!” 2 The ER lobby fell deathly silent. Only Jen’s heartbroken sobs echoed down the corridor. Wendy looked down at Jen, then at the defibrillator lying there like scrap metal. Her face darkened instantly. “Audrey Vale, what exactly happened here?” She pointed at my nose, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. I stood where I was, calmly watching this clumsy performance. “Head Nurse, you can ask the family what I was doing.” I turned toward Aaron. Before he could speak, Jen cried out and cut me off. “She almost attacked this gentleman! That’s why I rushed over to stop her!” She clutched Wendy’s pant leg, sobbing so hard she could barely breathe. “Head Nurse, Audrey has been under a lot of pressure because of the Excellence Award. Her emotions have been unstable. I tried to talk her down, but she took it out on the equipment.” “That machine was the department’s biggest purchase this year!” The moment Wendy heard “Excellence Award,” disgust flickered across her face. Everyone knew the only Outstanding Young Physician slot in the ER this year would go to either me or Jen. And every metric, every exam score, every case record I had, left hers in the dust. The comments rolled across the air, gloating. 【Amazing. Jen’s ability to flip black into white is wasted outside acting.】 【Now Audrey can’t explain herself. Who would believe a violent unstable doctor?】 【Wendy is Jen’s distant aunt. The villainess is done for.】 Looking at Wendy’s obviously biased face, my thoughts drifted back three years. It was my first day in the ER. I didn’t know the workflow yet and got yelled at by a difficult patient for half an hour. Jen had walked over with a warm milk tea and shielded me from the mocking stares around us. “Don’t mind them. From now on, we’re sisters. I’ve got you.” She had smiled so sincerely back then, her eyes bright. If only life had stayed as kind as that first meeting. Too bad that kindness had been rotted hollow by jealousy and greed. “This nurse is lying!” Aaron finally reacted and stepped in front of me. He pointed at Jen and roared, “Dr. Vale saved Mrs. Shaw. That woman tripped and knocked the machine over herself. How are you blaming the doctor?” Jen shrank back, making herself look even more pitiful. “Sir, I know you’re afraid Audrey will retaliate. She won a state fighting championship. Even you men are scared of her. How could I dare make things up?” With a few sentences, she twisted Aaron’s defense into proof he had been intimidated. Wendy snorted and cut him off impatiently. “That’s enough. Sir, this is an internal hospital matter. It doesn’t concern you.” She turned to me, voice cold and authoritative. “Audrey Vale, you will take full responsibility for the six-hundred-thousand-dollar device.” “Also, given your vile behavior tonight, I’ll report this to Medical Affairs. You are suspended pending review.” “And as for tomorrow’s Excellence Award presentation, don’t bother attending.” A clean combo. She stripped me of my work, my honor, and dropped a massive debt on my head. I didn’t argue. I only looked at Wendy, then at Jen behind her. At moments like this, explanations were useless. You can’t wake someone pretending to sleep, and a referee who already picked a side does not need evidence. I took off my white coat and draped it over the nurses’ station chair. “Fine. I accept the punishment.” My voice was flat. The instant I said it, Jen’s eyes lit with wild joy. The comments boiled over. 【What a loser. She’s swallowing this too?】 【Audrey really is a doormat. Bullied this hard and not even a fart.】 【Beautiful. Jen gets the award slot, removes her obstacle, and dumps the blame.】 I ignored the mocking words and turned toward the locker room. Jen quickly scrambled up and chased after me. “Audrey, don’t be mad at Head Nurse Collins. She’s just thinking of the department.” She leaned close to my ear. Only I could hear the triumph in her voice. “You can’t pay thirty grand, can you?” Then she finally threw out her real bait. “As long as you give me the research data for your Cardiovascular Emergency Pathway project and put my name as first author, I’ll cover the money for you.” I stopped and looked at her pretty, false face. That research project was built from countless sleepless nights. I had dug through five years of emergency cases and created the database line by line. Once published, it would shake the emergency medicine world. She wanted to step on me, climb upward, and squeeze out every last drop of my blood. I stared at her for several seconds, then smiled. “Jen, you’re so good to me.” I looked her in the eyes, enunciating every word. “Sure. Come copy the data from my computer tomorrow morning.” Jen froze, clearly not expecting me to agree so easily. Then her smile bloomed. “Audrey, I knew it. We’ll always be best friends.” 3 The next morning, sunlight filtered through the blinds and scattered across the ER office floor. The office was quiet, except for the crisp clicking of a mouse. I stood beside my workstation and watched Jen sitting in my chair. She had done a full face of makeup today, sprayed on expensive perfume for once, and ironed her white coat until not a single crease remained. She excitedly inserted a silver flash drive into my computer and dragged over an encrypted folder named “Cardio-Neuro Emergency Core Pathway.” The progress bar crawled across the screen. 30%. 50%. “Audrey, I knew you were smart enough to understand.” Jen stared at the progress bar while sighing with fake sympathy. “In our field, people without backing can’t go far. You give me the data, I win the award, and when I become deputy director later, I won’t forget you.” She said it like charity was her birthright. I leaned against the filing cabinet, my eyes cold. “Really? Then let me congratulate you early, Dr. Blake.” The comments bounced beside the screen. 【LMAO, Audrey is so easy to manipulate when she’s swallowing her anger.】 【Once Jen gets this data, she can interview as medical consultant for Bennett Shaw’s med-tech company. Million-dollar salary incoming.】 【Audrey lost hair and sleep building this, and now she’s just handing it over. That’s fate.】 My gaze followed the progress bar as it hit 100%. I felt no regret. If anything, there was a secret anticipation in my chest. The data she copied was real, of course. Not only real, but flawless. I had simply buried a “core variable” inside the massive underlying code and inference formulas. A fatal medical logic loop designed especially for her. It was like handing her a legendary sword. With poison smeared all over the hilt. “Done.” Jen pulled out the flash drive and clutched it tightly, as if she had seized the whole world. Just then, the office door was pushed open. A man in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses strode in. His expression was cold, his features sharp with the authority of someone used to power. Behind him followed Wendy, suddenly humble, and several hospital administrators. “Mr. Reed, this way. This is the ER office.” Wendy, who usually strutted around the department, was smiling so hard she looked ridiculous. The man called Mr. Reed scanned the office, then his gaze landed on Jen, who stood in front. “Which doctor saved Mrs. Shaw last night?” His voice was not loud, but it carried unquestionable force. The comments exploded. 【Here he comes! Bennett Shaw’s chief assistant is here!】 【The male lead is looking for the savior. Here comes the climax!】 Jen’s eyes lit up. Without hesitation, she moved past me and approached Mr. Reed, lowering her head slightly with a gentle, professional smile. “Hello, Mr. Reed. I was on duty last night.” She pointed at the badge on her chest. Her voice was sweet enough to drip honey. “Mrs. Shaw’s condition was very dangerous. I was the one who intervened in time.” In that moment, I became the extra person in the office. Mr. Reed studied her and nodded with satisfaction. “Dr. Blake, young and capable, calm under pressure. Mr. Shaw appreciates that.” He paused, then looked past Jen and shot a cold glance at me. “However, I heard another doctor attempted to assault the patient’s family and deliberately destroyed medical equipment.” Wendy immediately chimed in, pointing at me. “That’s her! Audrey Vale!” “Mr. Reed, don’t worry. We’ve already suspended this unethical doctor.” Jen turned and looked at me with feigned sorrow. “Audrey, I told you so many times. To be a doctor, you have to have compassion first.” “How could you take your anger out on a patient’s life?” She stood on moral high ground and nailed me to a pillar of shame. Mr. Reed looked at me with open contempt. “Someone like you does not deserve to wear a white coat.” His judgment was cold, like he was looking at unrecyclable trash. I met his scornful gaze and suddenly laughed. The sound was jarring in the quiet office. “What are you laughing at?” Mr. Reed frowned. I straightened and dusted off my hands. “Nothing. I just think those gold-rimmed glasses are wasted on you, Mr. Reed.” My tone was calm but sharp. “After all, glasses on a blind man are only decoration.” 4 “What did you say?” Mr. Reed’s expression darkened instantly. Behind his lenses, his eyes narrowed with danger. As Bennett Shaw’s most trusted right hand, he was used to being respected in Northbridge’s business circles. No one had ever dared call him blind to his face. Wendy went pale and rushed forward to grab my arm. “Audrey, are you insane? Apologize to Mr. Reed right now!” I sidestepped her hand. “Am I wrong?” I looked coldly at Mr. Reed. “You can’t even identify the person who saved Mrs. Shaw. You didn’t bother checking the basic facts. This is the level of Bennett Shaw’s chief assistant?” The comments were a carnival. 【She’s lost it. The villainess is attacking everyone now.】 【Who does she think she is, talking to Mr. Reed like that?】 【Waiting for Audrey to get blacklisted forever. Idiots who don’t know death is coming should be kicked out of medicine.】 Joy flashed through Jen’s eyes, though she put on an anxious face. She grabbed Mr. Reed’s arm, her voice shaking just enough. “Mr. Reed, please don’t take it personally. Audrey… she might be mentally unstable because of the suspension.” She turned to me, tears appearing on command. “Audrey, I’m begging you. Stop making a scene. Everyone saw what happened last night. Why are you still denying it?” Mr. Reed shook off her hand in disgust, unwilling to look at me again. “If she has mental issues, send her to psychiatry. The ER isn’t a garbage dump.” He straightened his cuff and turned to Wendy. “Head Nurse Collins, I don’t want to see this person at the awards event this afternoon.” Wendy nodded repeatedly. “Of course. I’ll have her removed at once.” At two o’clock that afternoon, Northbridge’s largest medical technology forum opened in the hospital’s thousand-seat auditorium on the top floor. This was not just an academic exchange. Bennett Shaw’s medical group had arranged it specifically to select a chief medical consultant. The audience was full of Northbridge’s senior physicians, professors, and media reporters. Jen wore a custom business suit and immaculate makeup, seated in the first row like a rising star. As for me, two guards forced me to stand in the dim back corner of the auditorium. Worse, Wendy had deliberately stuck a white label on my chest. “Statement of Apology: Audrey Vale.” The humiliation was obvious. The lights dimmed. The host opened with enthusiasm. “Next, please welcome tonight’s focal figure, the true savior of Mrs. Shaw, Dr. Jen Blake!” Thunderous applause filled the room. Jen lifted her skirt and walked elegantly onto the stage. Under the spotlight, she looked like a shining goddess of medicine. “Thank you for the applause.” She bowed deeply, her voice gentle and firm. “As an emergency physician, saving lives is my duty. Last night’s situation was critical, but I always remembered the original purpose of medicine…” She spoke smoothly, reciting my emergency treatment from last night word for word, even adding some moving details of her own. The senior experts nodded approvingly. After describing the rescue, the big screen lit up. It showed the Cardio-Neuro Emergency Core Pathway data model I had spent half a year building. “Since I have this opportunity, I’d also like to share my recent research results with all of you.” Jen clicked through the slides with ease and stole my work without blinking. Watching those familiar codes and curves appear on screen, I slowly clenched my hand in the dark. The comments went insane. 【Wow, Jen has this in the bag. That data is stunning.】 【The heroine’s halo shines on the world. The villainess can only eat dust in the corner.】 【Public execution time. Make the villainess kneel and apologize. So satisfying!】 Sure enough, after Jen finished the data presentation, her tone suddenly shifted. She looked sadly toward the dark corner at the back. “Actually, standing here today, I carry a deep regret.” “My colleague, and once my best friend Audrey Vale, gave in to greed and jealousy. She nearly endangered a patient’s life and smashed expensive department equipment.” Every eye in the room turned toward me like a searchlight. Whispers rose like a tide. “So that’s the disgraced doctor?” “Shameless. How dare she show up here?” Wendy had somehow reached the front. She grabbed a microphone and spoke loudly. “Audrey Vale! The hospital has already shown you mercy. Come up here immediately and apologize to Dr. Blake and Mr. Shaw’s family in front of all the experts!” The two guards shoved me hard. I stumbled two steps out of the shadows and stood in the aisle. The white “Statement of Apology” label on my chest looked glaring under the lights. “Apologize!” “Kneel and apologize!” Someone shouted first. Soon the whole room was swallowed by the chant. Jen stood high on the stage, looking down at me, her mouth curved in triumph. I stood where I was, watching her coldly. Just as the guards were about to force my head down, the auditorium’s heavy carved doors were kicked open from outside. Bang. The sound shook the room. Everyone gasped and whipped around. Against the harsh white light of the hallway, a tall man in a black custom suit walked in, step by measured step.

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1 My son’s leg was shattered by the school board member’s son, his only crime spilling soda on a $40,000 pair of custom sneakers. Instead of justice, the school slapped my son with a permanent disciplinary warning to bury the scandal. In the principal’s office, the aggressor’s mother, dripping in diamonds, jabbed a finger at me. “Those shoes cost forty grand! You could sell your kid and still not cover it. Not expelling him is mercy.” Principal Woodrow nodded frantically. “Mrs. Harrington is right. We’ll handle this severely.” I swallowed my rage as she shoved her phone in my face. “That’s Superintendent Wallace, my uncle. You think you can fight me?” The photo showed Wallace bowing obsequiously to shake a man’s hand. I kept eye contact, dialed my husband, and said evenly, “Honey, one of your lackey’s nephews just broke our son’s leg.” My legs had practically given out when I arrived at the hospital the night before. My sweet boy, Noah, was lying in that sterile white bed. His right leg was encased in a thick, heavy cast and suspended in the air. The bright, sunny smile he usually wore was entirely gone. His face was the color of ash, his lips cracked and bleeding. The orthopedic surgeon had held up the X rays, his expression grim. “It is a comminuted fracture. We performed surgery, but the bone was severely splintered. The recovery process is going to be brutal, and unfortunately, it might permanently affect his growth plates.” I stayed by Noah’s side all night, listening to the rhythmic beeping of the monitors. The very next morning, the school principal called. Using his most practiced, bureaucratic tone, he claimed the other boy’s family was willing to offer a “friendly settlement.” That was how I ended up here, in this suffocating office. Victoria Harrington sat across from me in a pristine Chanel tweed suit, idly scrolling through her phone while a rock the size of a pigeon’s egg flashed on her ring finger. She was the mother of Tristan Harrington, the monster who hurt my boy. Principal Woodrow was practically tripping over himself to pour her fresh coffee. When I walked in, Victoria barely lifted her eyelids. The contempt in her gaze was raw and unfiltered. “You must be Noah’s mother. Grab a seat.” She nudged a manila folder across the polished mahogany desk. “Here is the non disclosure agreement. Sign it. We will cover the medical bills, plus throw in an extra forty thousand for your trouble. Do not waste my time. My son has equestrian practice this afternoon.” She spoke exactly like someone tossing spare change to a homeless person on the subway. A loud ringing echoed in my ears. The image of Noah groaning in agony flawlessly overlapped with this woman’s breathtaking arrogance. I grabbed the settlement, ripped it into shreds, and hurled the confetti of paper right into her perfectly contoured face. “In your dreams.” Victoria’s sneer deepened. “Forty grand. For an ordinary, paycheck to paycheck family like yours, you would have to starve for years to save up that kind of cash. Your kid just broke a leg, he didn’t die. Learn to be grateful when your betters toss you a bone.” The principal rushed in to play the peacemaker. “Noah’s mom, let us all take a deep breath. Mrs. Harrington is showing incredible generosity here.” Generosity? My entire body shook with rage. “Her son shattered my boy’s leg! The school completely ignores the assault, slaps a permanent warning on my son’s record, and you call this generosity?” Victoria casually brushed a speck of dust off her lapel and laughed. “I told them to put that warning on his record. Who told your blind little brat to spill cheap soda on my son’s brand new shoes? Those kicks are limited edition worldwide. Forty grand! I am letting him stay in this school out of the goodness of my heart.” “Exactly,” the principal chimed in. “We will definitely discipline Noah to ensure this never happens again.” That was when Victoria pulled out her phone, showed me the picture of her uncle bowing to a tall, broad shouldered man, and asked if I was worthy of fighting her. The man in the photo, the one her powerful uncle was practically worshiping, was a silhouette I knew better than my own reflection. It was my husband, Dominic. So I made the call right in front of them. “Honey. The nephew of one of your lackeys just broke our son’s leg.” 2 Dead silence hung on the line for two entire seconds. Then, Dominic’s deep, commanding voice came through the speaker. “Understood. Where are you? I am on my way.” Hearing this, Victoria froze for a split second before bursting into hysterical laughter. “Oh my god, I am dying! The nephew of a lackey? What is this, a soap opera?” She pointed at me, wiping a tear of mirth from the corner of her eye. “Where exactly does your husband work, sweetheart? Give me the name so my uncle can pay him a special little visit.” The principal gave me a look of pure pity, sighing heavily. “Noah’s mom, stop making a fool of yourself out of spite. The Harrington family’s connections are far beyond anything you can comprehend. Just sign the papers, take the cash, and go pay for your kid’s surgery.” I ended the call and stared at them with ice in my veins. “I said I am not signing anything. You will revoke that disciplinary warning. Tristan will apologize in front of the entire student body, and then he will pack his bags and get out of this school.” My words landed like bricks in the quiet office. Victoria’s laughter died instantly. Her face twisted into an ugly, venomous mask. “I tried to give you an out, you ungrateful bitch.” She leaned forward, her eyes practically bulging. “Looks like forty grand is not enough to satisfy your greedy little appetite. Fine. Fifty grand. Take it or leave it. Keep pushing my buttons, and I swear to God I will make sure you do not see a single dime. And your precious son? He will be expelled before lunch.” The principal was sweating profusely now. He grabbed my arm. “Are you insane? You cannot fight them! Swallow your pride and think about your child!” I yanked my arm away and glared straight at Victoria. “Keep your money. You are going to need it for your son’s coffin.” “You!” Victoria gasped, her chest heaving violently. Her manicured finger trembled as she pointed at me. “Good! Very good! I am going to show you exactly how the real world works today!” She hit speed dial and put her phone on speaker. “Uncle Wallace! I am at the school. Some trailer trash parent is causing a scene. Tell the principal to kick her kid to the curb right now!” A greasy, overly confident male voice boomed from the speaker. It was the man from the photo. “Vicky, sweetheart, you do not need me for a minor pest control issue like this. Just hand the phone to the principal. Who has the guts to piss off my favorite niece?” Victoria tipped her chin up triumphantly and shoved the phone toward the principal. Woodrow’s face immediately morphed into a mask of pure worship. He bowed to the phone as if the man could see him. “Superintendent Wallace! It is an honor, sir. Please do not worry. I will handle this immediately. Your niece will be completely satisfied!” Victoria ended the call, her arrogance now suffocating the room. “Hear that? Even if you drop to your knees and beg me right now, it is too late.” She turned to the principal, barking her order. “Process Noah’s expulsion. Right this second.” Wiping his forehead, the principal gave me one last look of feigned helplessness before caving completely. “Noah’s mom, my hands are tied. You brought this upon yourself.” I ignored him. I just kept my eyes locked on the heavy oak door of the office. Dominic said he was on his way. And Dominic never made empty promises. Under Victoria’s impatient glaring, the principal’s shaky hand reached for his desk phone to call the registrar. My heart climbed into my throat, beating a frantic rhythm against my ribs. Right at that moment, Victoria’s phone rang. Her face instantly softened into a sickeningly sweet smile. It was her precious boy, Tristan. “Hey, baby. What is wrong? Miss your mommy?” The voice on the other end was loud, bratty, and entitled. “Mom, is that broke loser’s mom gone yet? Stop wasting time with her and get her out of here, she is ruining my vibe. Oh, and the new global edition gaming console dropped today. You promised you would buy it for me!” Victoria beamed. “Of course, sweetheart. Mommy will go grab it as soon as I take out the trash here. Be good in class.” She hung up and gave me a side eye that could curdle milk. “See the difference? My son gets whatever he wants, whenever he wants it. Your son? He drags his parents down and gets kicked to the curb. I guess some people are just born to be at the bottom of the food chain.” Her words twisted like a knife in my chest. I clenched my fists so hard my fingernails drew blood from my palms. Suddenly, someone pounded on the office door. The principal’s secretary poked her head in, her face drained of all color, looking like she had just seen a ghost. “Sir! Boss! It is a disaster!” “The major shareholders of the academy, and Mr. Montgomery from the board of directors… they are all here! They are swarming the conference room right now demanding an emergency board meeting!” The phone receiver slipped from the principal’s sweaty grip and clattered loudly against the desk. “What? Chairman Montgomery? Why is he here? Why didn’t anyone warn me?” 3 Victoria scowled, waving her hand dismissively. “Who cares about a bunch of old men having a meeting? Principal, what are you waiting for? Sign the expulsion papers!” But Woodrow was completely paralyzed. He stood frozen behind his desk, his eyes darting around like a trapped rat. The atmosphere in the room had suddenly shifted from tense to utterly bizarre. Right then, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a text from Dominic. I am downstairs. The new school board directors wanted to meet you. I sent them up. I slowly raised my head. Looking right at Victoria’s irritated, twisted face, I lifted my phone. I hit dial, put it on speaker, and spoke in a voice that was not loud, but echoed clearly through the dead silent room. “Honey. Are they here?” “Yes. We are walking up,” Dominic’s deep, steady voice replied. I kept my eyes on the pale, sweating principal and the utterly confused Victoria. I enunciated every single word. “Good. Send them in.” “I think it is time this school got a new principal.” When I finished speaking, the silence in the office was so absolute you could hear a pin drop. The principal’s eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. Victoria stared at me blankly for a second before letting out an ugly, grating shriek of laughter. “Change the principal? You? Who the hell do you think you are? The Queen of England?” She doubled over, laughing so hard she had to hold onto the desk. The sheer mockery in her eyes was suffocating. “Listen to me, you delusional psycho. The principal of this academy was personally appointed by my uncle! God himself could not remove him from that chair!” Bang. The heavy office doors were shoved open with violent force. Dominic stepped inside. He was dressed in an impeccably tailored charcoal suit, his broad shoulders and towering height instantly dominating the room. The moment he crossed the threshold, it felt as if all the oxygen had been sucked out of the space. His aura was terrifyingly cold. Trailing closely behind him was a distinguished older gentleman with silver hair, flanked by several other sharp suited executives. The moment Principal Woodrow laid eyes on the silver haired man, his knees buckled. He practically collapsed against his desk. “Chairman… Chairman Montgomery! What… what brings you here?” Chairman Montgomery did not even spare the trembling man a single glance. He walked straight past the desk, heading directly toward me. He offered a deep, incredibly respectful bow. “Mrs. Kensington. I am so terribly sorry that you and your son were subjected to such treatment on our grounds.” Dominic stepped up to my side. He slipped his suit jacket off his shoulders and draped it gently over mine. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice softening only for me. I gave a small nod. Victoria’s manic laughter had frozen on her face. She looked at me, then at Dominic, then at the Chairman of the Board who was treating us like royalty. Her brain had visibly short circuited. “Who… who the hell are you people?” she stammered, her voice shaking. Dominic finally turned his gaze toward her. His eyes were completely devoid of warmth. “Were you not just bragging about your powerful uncle?” he asked quietly. “He is waiting right outside in the hallway. Why do you not go ask him exactly who I am.” The moment the words left his mouth, two massive men in black suits hauled a sweaty, overweight man into the office. It was Superintendent Wallace. The untouchable man from the photograph. Wallace’s face was the color of chalk. Sweat poured down his forehead, soaking his expensive collar. The moment his eyes locked onto Dominic, he violently shoved the bodyguards away and threw himself to the floor, crawling frantically toward Dominic’s expensive leather shoes. “Mr. Kensington! Sir! It is a misunderstanding! I swear to God, it is a huge misunderstanding!” “I had no idea… I did not know it was your son! I swear!” The dramatic shift in reality turned everyone in the room to stone. Victoria looked like she had been struck by lightning. She stared at her all powerful uncle, a man who commanded the city’s education system, crying and groveling like a whipped dog on the floor. “Uncle Wallace… what… what are you doing?” Hearing her voice, Wallace snapped his head around. He scrambled to his feet, lunged at his niece, and slapped her so hard the crack echoed off the walls. “You stupid, arrogant cow! Are you trying to get me killed?” He pointed a trembling, fat finger at Dominic. “Do you have any idea who this man is? He is Dominic Kensington! The CEO of Vanguard Enterprises!” “He single handedly funded the entire tech district in the southside! The Mayor treats him like royalty! And you dared to touch his family?!” Dominic Kensington. CEO of Vanguard Enterprises. Hearing those words, Principal Woodrow’s eyes rolled back into his head, and he slumped heavily into his expensive leather chair, completely paralyzed. All the blood instantly drained from Victoria’s face. She stood there, clutching her stinging cheek, her mind entirely broken. Wallace threw himself back onto the floor, banging his forehead against the hardwood as he begged. “Mr. Kensington, I was wrong! I am so sorry! My niece is blind and stupid. Please, show some mercy, just this once!” Dominic ignored him entirely. He looked at the silver haired chairman. “Mr. Montgomery. It appears the city’s education board and this academy are in desperate need of a deep cleaning.” Chairman Montgomery nodded sternly, understanding the assignment. “Rest assured, Mr. Kensington. I will personally deliver a resolution that satisfies both you and your wife.” The older man spun around, his eyes locking onto the paralyzed principal with lethal intent. “You. As an educator, you twisted the truth to protect the guilty and torment the innocent. Effective immediately, you are terminated. Pack your things and get out of my building.” Then, Montgomery looked down at the sobbing superintendent. “As for you, Wallace. I have a very strong feeling the federal ethics committee is going to be incredibly interested in auditing your financial records for the past decade.”

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1 I was the flex girl. When our whole class went to a farm for “hands-on agricultural experience,” I drove a Ferrari into the fields and used a Hermès bag as a foot mat. The scholarship student in our class, Maria Rowe, stared at me with naked envy. So I gave her designer goods, let her live in my villa, and even arranged a helicopter to take her to and from school. That only made her more jealous. When she finally couldn’t stand it anymore and used her body-swap system, thinking she could replace me at last, I smiled. What she didn’t know was that I was the fake heiress. She was the real daughter of the Ashford family, the lost heiress about to be welcomed home. The day our school went to the countryside to experience farm work, I arrived in a Ferrari. The field was too muddy. As soon as the car reached the edge of the ridge, the tires sank in. The front wheels disappeared into the mud. The harder I stepped on the gas, the deeper they went. There happened to be a Hermès bag in the back seat, so I pulled it out and tossed it under my feet, stepping on it to climb onto the ridge. Every student working nearby froze. “Holy…” “Am I seeing things? Is that Hermès? That’s insane.” The sun was a little too bright, so I put on limited-edition sunglasses and said, “Everyone’s working hard today. I bought chilled juice, imported fruit, and snacks. Enough for all of you.” The class erupted. “Miss Ashford is rich and kind!” “It’s so hot today. I was dying out here pulling carrots. Harper, you’re literally saving my life.” Everyone laughed. Someone set up a sun umbrella for me. Someone brought over a little folding stool. Then a sharp voice came from the side. “Ugh. The flex queen.” It wasn’t loud, but it cut through the noise. “She’s even showing off in the countryside. Incredible.” “Harper never used to be like this. These last few days, it’s like she became another person. At that party two days ago, she poured bottles of 1982 Lafite into the pool. Disgusting.” I turned and glanced over. It was Paige Grant, our class president, and her little followers. Paige had always been the most popular girl in class. No wonder she was annoyed that I had stolen the spotlight today. She sneered, raising her voice. “I heard Maria Rowe lives in this village too.” “She’s a scholarship student. Her parents died years ago, and she lives alone in that mud house on the east side of the village. The roof is practically collapsing. She picks up bottles after school and eats plain rolls with pickles in the cafeteria.” “Tsk. Someone over here is using Hermès as a foot mat, while someone else is digging through trash and barely eating.” “Some people really have no conscience. If you’re going to show off, at least read the room.” I looked at Maria. She had a delicate, innocent face and a thin, fragile frame. Her school uniform had been washed until it faded white. She looked timid. The way she looked at me was full of envy. I took off my sunglasses, suddenly entertained, and pulled out my phone. “Hello, Mr. Carter. Go to the mall right now. Clothes, shoes, bags, all designer. Ten full outfits, head to toe. Bring them here when you’re done.” He answered at once. I added, “And withdraw three hundred thousand in cash. Bring that too.” My classmates gathered in a circle, whispering about what I was going to do. I looked at Paige and said, “Didn’t someone say I love showing off? Correct. I do.” “Everything I just ordered is for Maria Rowe.” “Oh, and she doesn’t have a proper place to live, right? I own a standalone villa downtown. Hmm, it’s a little far from school. Then I’ll send a helicopter to pick her up and drop her off every day.” The surroundings went silent for several seconds. “I’m jealous.” “Actually, my family is pretty poor too. Harper, would you consider sponsoring me?” Paige’s face turned green, like she had swallowed a dead fly. Not long after, Mr. Carter’s car arrived. Three or four large boxes were carried out and stacked beside the ridge. There was also a briefcase filled entirely with cash. When the items were handed to Maria, there was no gratitude in her eyes. No dislike either. Not surprise. Only overwhelming jealousy. 2 I knew that look. I had seen it before. In my last life, I wasn’t some flex girl. I was an obedient, well-behaved daughter. Even though I was the only daughter of the richest family in the city, I never flaunted wealth or acted arrogant. I wore ordinary clothes, carried ordinary bags, and treated everyone politely. Until my eighteenth birthday party. A lot of guests came that day. The garden was filled with white roses, the champagne tower rose three tiers high, and a live band played in the corner. I stood in the crowd wearing a white dress and smiling. Back then, I thought I was the happiest girl in the world. A six-tier cake was pushed out. My father picked up the microphone. “Today, I have something very important to announce.” I smiled at him, thinking he was about to wish me happy birthday. Instead, he said, “Harper Ashford is not our biological daughter.” I froze. “There was a mix-up at the hospital years ago. Our real daughter was lost outside our family. Fortunately, we have finally found her.” The whole room went quiet. Then they brought someone out from the back. Maria Rowe. She looked shy and happy, nothing like the poor student she had been before. My mother held her arm as if she were a priceless treasure. “Today is Maria’s homecoming banquet. We hope all of you can witness the return of the Ashford family’s true jewel.” Thunderous applause filled the garden. A friend tugged at my sleeve and quietly told me not to overthink it. I didn’t. My parents had found their biological daughter. I should be happy for them. Even if I wasn’t related by blood, eighteen years of affection still existed. They would love Maria, and they would still love me. Later, I learned how wrong I was. When I went home, the only thing waiting for me was a locked door. My parents, who had once spoiled me to the bone, became strangers overnight. They said the Ashford family only cared about bloodline. They said I was nothing but an impostor, a bastard who had stolen the place of their only daughter for eighteen years. It was unforgivable. Maria suggested that I be sent to the countryside to experience the suffering she had endured. Only then would it be fair. So overnight, I went from heiress to orphan. I moved into that mud house. I stopped eating and drinking. It hurt. Not because life was hard. It hurt because my parents were so cruel. Bloodline. Bastard. Every word was a knife in my chest. When I was nearly starving, I finally dragged myself up. I was alive not because I was an Ashford daughter. I was alive because I was me. Without that identity, I could still live brilliantly. Those years were hard. I left the mud house and rented a basement room. I worked as an extra. A corpse. A palace maid. A vicious supporting actress. I was insulted, framed, and looked down on. I gritted my teeth and climbed up step by step. In the end, I became a top actress. My films broke box office records. I won two Best Actress awards. My endorsements ranged from luxury brands to everyday products, plastered across every street. When a famous actor publicly confessed his feelings for me, the internet crashed for three hours. At the peak of my career, I saw the news on TV. “Ashford Group has officially declared bankruptcy. Founder Richard Ashford has been restricted from luxury spending due to debt disputes. Reportedly, several properties under his daughter’s name have been seized…” My assistant told me Maria had been spoiled beyond reason after returning to the family. She bought yachts and private planes and spent money like water. Most importantly, she was hopelessly in love with a man. She listened to him and invested in projects. Then he disappeared. The money vanished. Maria began crying and throwing tantrums. My parents were so busy comforting her that they neglected the business. Old clients left. New clients never came. Cash flow tightened more and more. When a bridge loan failed to get repaid, the bank called in the debt. The capital chain snapped. Suppliers blocked the doors, employees demanded wages, and partners filed lawsuits. The Ashford family went bankrupt. When I heard it, I felt nothing. The survival of the Ashford family had nothing to do with me anymore. But not long after, Maria came to find me. I didn’t know how she got my hotel address. When I returned from filming, she was squatting outside my room. When she saw my glamorous clothes, her eyes filled with the same overwhelming jealousy. “Are you proud?” She laughed. “Big star. Best Actress. Men chasing after you. And me? My family’s gone. My money’s gone. I have nothing.” “You think I’m regretful and desperate? You’re wrong. I’m thrilled.” A bad feeling surged in my chest. I turned and ran. Maria immediately chased me and grabbed my wrist. The world spun. Everything went black. I lost consciousness. When I opened my eyes, I was lying on the hotel hallway floor. Standing across from me was someone who looked exactly like me. She moved her hands and looked at her brand-new body, her eyes shining. “Did you know? I accidentally obtained a system. It gave me one chance to swap bodies with someone.” “I was looking for a target when someone told me I was the Ashford heiress. I thought I wouldn’t need the system anymore.” “Who knew the chance would come now? Your actor, your money, your career, all of it is mine.” Then she picked up her phone and called security, saying I was a stalker fan and telling them to deal with me. Seeing my horrified expression, she laughed with satisfaction. I was thrown out of the hotel. No matter how I explained, no one believed me. It rained that day. Once again, I had nothing. The phone in my pocket rang. It belonged to Maria’s old body. A message popped up on the screen. “You think hiding means we can’t find you? Pay your debts. If you don’t have money, you can pay with something else.” Footsteps sounded behind me. My heart jumped again. I didn’t escape. They locked me in an unfinished building. Every day, someone came in demanding money. I said I didn’t have any, and they hit me. After a while, I lost count. I only knew there wasn’t a patch of unbruised skin left on me. In the end, they stuffed me into a van and took me somewhere. I was tied to a bed. Someone beside me prepared instruments. I heard the clink of surgical tools. Then they injected something into my arm. Cold liquid entered my veins. I closed my eyes and knew I was going to die. Many images flashed through my mind. The last one was Maria’s jealous eyes. I hated her. I refused to accept it. If I could live again, I would never let Maria have a good ending. No one expected that when I opened my eyes again, I had returned to before the Ashford homecoming. I truly had another chance. I buried my face in my hands, shaking with pain. This time, I would take everything back. 3 After that day, Maria moved into my villa. I gave her a room with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the pool. The closet was full of the latest seasonal designer pieces. The skincare on the vanity was all high-end luxury brands. Not only that, I brought her into my social circle. Fine dining, private parties, riding clubs, yachts. Anything fun, I took her along. At first, she was restrained. Gradually, she became used to it. At the mall, she bought a twenty-thousand-dollar dress without blinking. When paying, she handed over the card with arrogant ease, as if she were a real heiress. I stood beside her and watched. How long had it been? Two months? She had already completely forgotten who she used to be. The funniest part was her and Owen Price. Owen was the school heartthrob and student council president. His family ran an import-export business and was considered respectable in the city. Every time we went to a gathering, as long as Owen was there, Maria would move close and find reasons to talk. “Owen, you like this watch brand too? I just bought one a few days ago.” “Owen, there’s an equestrian competition this weekend. Do you want to go together?” “Owen, the desserts from this place are amazing. I brought some especially for you.” Then one day, she came to me shyly, cheeks flushed. “Owen said he kind of likes me. Do you think I should say yes?” I smiled and said nothing. Poor silly thing. When the school dance was announced, Maria was so excited she couldn’t sleep all night. That day, the school auditorium was decorated grandly. Maria stood in the most visible spot, scanning the crowd for Owen. “I heard Owen hasn’t invited a dance partner yet.” “Really? Doesn’t everyone like him?” “Who knows? Maybe he’s waiting for someone.” Listening to the gossip nearby, Maria couldn’t suppress her smile. She said to me with a little pride, “Owen must be waiting for me. He probably wants to confess publicly at the dance.” At exactly three o’clock, the host invited a pair to open the first dance. Owen entered as student council president. Maria took a deep breath, stepped forward, and extended her hand with a sweet smile. Owen didn’t even look at her. He brushed past her and walked straight to me. “Harper Ashford, may I have this dance?” I smiled and placed my hand in his. The music began. We walked onto the dance floor. Maria stood frozen, like a clown. Her face went pale first, then slowly flushed red. Someone whispered beside her. “Isn’t that the scholarship girl Harper brought around? She stepped forward and even held out her hand. Did she think Owen was inviting her?” “Pfft, what was she thinking? Wealthy families care about matching status. With Owen’s background, how could he like her?” “I think she really believes wearing designer clothes makes her a rich girl. Hilarious. Once Harper stops sponsoring her, she’ll be back to her old self overnight.” The voices weren’t loud, but every word entered Maria’s ears clearly. Like a bucket of cold water, they woke her up completely. Everything she had experienced these past months was like a beautiful dream. The more beautiful the dream, the crueler reality became. Even in designer clothes, she was still Maria Rowe, the poor girl everyone looked down on. The life of the past few months was too good. So good she would rather die than let it go. Her fists clenched. At last, she made up her mind. She wanted to turn the dream into reality. She wanted money, power, beauty, and Owen’s love. Across the crowd, I glanced at her. She was staring at me with hatred. Yes. That look. Pleasure surged through me. Hurry up, Maria. I can’t wait. After the dance, Maria said she had something to tell me. We returned to the villa together. She stared at me with dark eyes, then suddenly grabbed my hand. “Harper Ashford, every time you gave me something, every time you took me out, every time people praised you, I wanted to kill you.” “Why is life so unfair? Why were you born with everything? I want to swap with you.” The world began spinning again. I knew it. The fish had finally taken the bait.

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1 On April Fool’s Day, the entire office decided to target Helen, the new hire, for a prank. “We’ll pretend she won the Employee of the Month award,” the manager said, pointing to a metal bucket hanging from the ceiling. “The moment she steps onto the stage, someone pulls the cord, and she gets drenched.” But the joke took a dark turn. The rope snapped, and the heavy iron bucket tore free, hurtling down along with the water. Before everyone’s eyes, the bucket struck Helen hard on the head. She collapsed in a heap, a pool of crimson blooming around her on the floor. Nora, the receptionist, knelt down and tentatively checked Helen’s pulse. A second later, she let out a piercing scream. Helen was dead. Suddenly, every single person in the room was an accomplice. “We have to call the police! Right now!” My hands shook so violently I could barely hold my phone. “Someone is dead!” “Call the cops?” Andrew, the manager, grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Are you out of your mind? You want to spend the rest of your life behind bars?” His roaring voice left me stunned, staring at him blankly. Around us, the room descended into panic. “What do we do? I’m too young for prison!” “My kid starts college next year! Who’s going to pay his tuition if I’m locked up?” The sudden tragedy broke everyone’s composure. “Damn it!” Andrew cursed, kicking a desk hard. “How is she already dead? It was just a stupid bucket!” “It was a heavy iron bucket filled with water, and it was hung way too high,” Nora sobbed, her voice trembling. “It was a horrible accident.” Refusing to accept reality, Andrew suddenly ran onto the stage like a madman. He pinned Helen down, slapping her cheeks repeatedly. “Get up! Quit playing dead! Get the hell up!” Drops of blood splattered onto the back of his hand. Nora covered her mouth, screaming, while the others shrank back in horror. “Stop it!” I couldn’t watch any longer. I rushed forward and shoved Andrew away. “Stop touching her! She’s gone!” Swallowing the rising bile and terror in my throat, I slipped off my cardigan and gently covered Helen’s face. Andrew sat on the floor, panting heavily, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I used to be a nurse,” Nora wept. “I checked. She really isn’t breathing. She’s dead.” Brenda, one of the senior employees, suddenly stood up and pointed an accusing finger at Andrew. “This was your sick idea. You killed her! You’re the one who should take the blame!” The room went quiet for a beat, and then everyone quickly turned on Andrew. “She’s right! Andrew set up the stage. I had nothing to do with it.” “I never liked these pranks anyway. He forced us to participate.” “Andrew always had a grudge against Helen. What if he did this on purpose?” “Shut your mouths!” Andrew snarled, his cold gaze sweeping across the room. “You think you can just pin this on me?” He pulled out his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and slammed it onto a desk. “You were all brainstorming in the group chat. Now you want to play innocent?” I peered at the screen. There was indeed a private chat group. Everyone had been eagerly discussing how to humiliate Helen for April Fool’s. The worst part was, I had never even been added to that group. Brenda braced herself and kept arguing. “So what? We were just talking! Nobody expected you to actually go through with it.” “Exactly. It’s on him.” “The security cameras must have caught everything. He did it.” I looked at Helen’s lifeless body, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. “Let’s just call the police,” I said, reaching for my phone again. “Whatever the consequences are, we should face them together.” “Face them?” Andrew kicked my hand. The phone flew across the room, smashing against the wall, its screen shattering into pieces. I gasped, falling back onto the floor. He pulled a pocket knife from his trousers and drove it deep into the wooden table. The hilt vibrated with a low hum. “My son is applying for the police academy. I cannot have a record! I am not going to prison!” Andrew stared at the crowd, his eyes wild. Everyone cowered like frightened rabbits. No one dared to speak. “If this gets out, none of you are walking away clean,” Andrew hissed. “You’re all accomplices. Even if you don’t do time, the public backlash will destroy your lives. What will the headlines say? ‘Office bullies coworker to death on April Fool’s.’ Good luck ever finding another job.” Nora curled up on the floor, weeping hysterically. Brenda’s voice trembled. “Then… what do we do?” Andrew stared at the dark stain on the stage, silent for a long moment. “Unless…” “Helen tripped and fell.” 2 The room fell into a stunned silence. Andrew lowered his voice. “The security cameras broke a week ago, and we never got around to fixing them. What happened in this room is only known to us.” Brenda’s eyes lit up. “You mean… we stage the scene?” “There was water on the floor. Helen slipped, lost her footing, and fell off the stage. The platform is high enough that she struck her head on the edge of the steps, causing instant death.” As if grasping a lifeline, the others began nodding eagerly. “Yes, exactly. That’s how it happened.” “Just a tragic accident.” “We didn’t touch her. She fell on her own.” My head throbbed. “No!” I cried out. Everyone turned to stare at me. My voice shook, but I forced the words out. “Are you all insane? We made a mistake. We pay the penalty. A human being is dead because of us!” Andrew stared at me for a couple of seconds, then walked over. The slap was loud and stinging. My cheek burned. “I am so sick of your self-righteous attitude,” he spat. “If your family didn’t have money, you’d be the one lying on that stage today.” Holding my bruised cheek, I couldn’t speak. A painful realization washed over me. Helen had always been the office scapegoat. She did all the grunt work while others took the credit. She was excluded from every social outing, yet always expected to chip in for the bill. At lunch, she always sat alone in the furthest corner. She had done nothing wrong. She was just a quiet, unassuming girl with nobody to protect her, making her the perfect target for their cruelty. My eyes welled with tears. “You can’t do this to her. She has a family. People who love her.” “I think she only has an elderly grandmother,” Nora murmured softly. Brenda slapped her thigh. “An old woman is easy to handle. We tell her it was a slip-and-fall, and she’ll believe us.” “The company will offer a small settlement,” Andrew added. “She’ll probably be grateful for the cash.” “Yes, let’s do that!” I couldn’t listen to another word. Watching for a moment when they were distracted, I bolted toward the reception desk where the landline was. “Stop her!” Andrew yelled. “She’s trying to make a call!” Before I could lift the receiver, someone grabbed my hair from behind and threw me to the floor. Several hands pinned me down, crushing the breath out of me. Brenda knelt beside me and slapped my face twice. “Stop being difficult! We are trying to save you as much as ourselves!” she hissed, her saliva spraying onto my face. “Do you want to destroy all of our lives?” Wiping the blood from the corner of my mouth, I looked up. The familiar faces of my colleagues now stared down at me with cold, warning eyes. Their message was clear: Don’t ruin this for us. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “You’ve all lost your minds. Helen was a real person, and you killed her. Don’t you feel any guilt at all?” Brenda stood up, brushing off her skirt. “Guilt is one thing, but our future is another. If this gets out, we’re finished. How will our families look at us?” Andrew walked over, holding a severed electrical cord. “Stop wasting time on her. Tie her up.” They dragged me to the corner, pulling my arms behind my back and binding my wrists tightly. The thick cord cut deep into my skin. “Get to work,” Andrew ordered. The office became a flurry of activity. Some grabbed rags to scrub the bloodstains, some rearranged the chairs, and others hung the bucket back up on the ceiling. Helen’s body was lifted and placed carefully at the base of the stage. They positioned her head right against the sharp edge of the step, spilling water next to her so it pooled realistically beneath her torso. I lay in the corner, watching them piece together the lie. Within minutes, the room looked perfectly normal. Helen lay on the floor, her posture arranged so naturally that she truly looked like she had just slipped. Andrew nodded in approval. “Good.” Brenda let out a sigh of relief, sinking into a chair. Just then, Nora let out a sharp gasp. 3 Beneath Helen’s desk sat a large box filled with neatly arranged cupcakes. There were exactly thirty of them, matching the number of employees in our office. A card lay beside them, written in neat handwriting: Thank you all for taking care of me. I am so glad to have been your colleague. A heavy silence fell over the room. Nora covered her mouth, her eyes filling with tears. “Helen was actually really sweet. When I sprained my ankle last month, she fetched water for me every day and helped me to the restroom.” Another colleague’s eyes went red. “She was from my hometown. She brought me some of her grandmother’s homemade beef jerky just last week because I mentioned I missed the taste of home.” Brenda’s expression softened slightly, her voice tight. “She was a good girl. We… we really were too hard on her.” I let out a cold laugh. “Now that she’s dead, you all suddenly have a conscience?” I mocked. “If you really feel sorry, tell the truth! Call the police!” Brenda’s face flushed with anger. “Stop acting so superior! You might not have joined in on the pranks, but you never did anything to help her either!” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. She was right. My silence had made me a coward. Andrew banged on the desk. “Enough! Save your tears. We need to align our stories right now so we don’t mess up when the police arrive.” The group nodded in grim agreement. Nora picked up a pink cupcake, took a small bite through her tears, and whispered, “I’m so sorry, Helen.” Andrew rolled his eyes. “Pathetic.” Nora took another bite, but suddenly began to cough violently. She clutched her stomach, her knees buckling as she sank to the floor. Brenda frowned. “What’s wrong?” Nora’s face twisted in agony. She tried to speak, but a thick stream of dark blood spilled from her mouth instead. Brenda screamed. Nora collapsed entirely, thrashing on the carpet as blood covered her chin. “Help me… my stomach… it hurts so bad…” Everyone stood frozen in terror. No one dared to step close to her. Looking at the dropped cupcake on the floor, the truth hit me. “The cupcakes! They’re poisoned! Don’t touch the cupcakes!” The staff scrambled away from the box, their faces pale with horror. Nora lay on her side, gasping for air, her eyes wide and glassy. “Call an ambulance!” I screamed, pulling against my bonds. “Are you going to let another person die?” One colleague reached for their phone with trembling fingers. Andrew lunged forward, snatched the device, and threw it against the wall, shattering it. His face was flushed, veins bulging on his forehead. “Are you idiots blind? Helen brought these! She wanted us dead! She hated every single one of us and wanted to take us all down with her!” “If she hadn’t died first, we would all be corpses right now!” “If you call the police now, what are you going to say? That we bullied her, so she tried to poison us, but we accidentally killed her first?” His furious words silenced the room. Brenda collapsed onto the floor, weeping. “Then what do we do? We might have covered up Helen’s fall, but how do we explain Nora?” Andrew looked around the room, his eyes cold and calculated. “I have a plan.” He paused, letting the silence stretch. “If they never find the body, they can’t prove a crime.” A shiver ran down my spine. “No! You can’t do this!” I thrashed wildly on the floor. “She’s still breathing! Please, don’t make this worse! Save her!” “I’m begging you!” Tears poured down my face. “Please, just stop this!” Brenda seemed to crack under the pressure. She grabbed Andrew’s arm, her voice shaking. “Let’s just confess. I’ll take the blame. We did a terrible thing to Helen, just like we did to Jenna…” “Shut up, you fool!” Andrew slapped her hard, knocking her to the ground. “Confess? Who’s confessing? And don’t you dare mention that girl’s name!” Jenna… The name echoed in my mind. Some of my colleagues looked deeply uncomfortable, while others looked entirely blank. It was a familiar name, but I couldn’t place where I had heard it. But there was no time to think about that now. Nora was fading fast. She lay on the carpet, tears streaming into her hair, her lips moving silently. A wave of self-loathing washed over me. I hated myself for not standing up for Helen sooner, and for not fighting harder when they planned the prank this morning. Andrew’s face was dark, devoid of any humanity. “I’ll take care of Nora’s body. None of you need to get involved. I will take full responsibility.” “But,” he warned, pointing a finger at them, “you must all stick to one story. Nora never came to work today.” “I have a way to make sure the police never find her,” Andrew added quietly. The colleagues who had been wavering fell silent once more. Those who had reached for their phones put them back into their pockets. I closed my eyes in utter despair. An entire room of people stood by and watched as Nora’s chest stopped moving. The second body. My mind shattered under the weight of the horror. Let out a ragged scream, I felt the rush of blood to my head, and the world went completely black. When I finally regained consciousness, I was surrounded by pitch darkness. The space was tight and cramped, bouncing slightly. I could hear the faint, muffled sound of car horns in the distance. I was in the trunk of a car. Reaching out in the dark, my hand brushed against something soft and warm. A human body. A gasp caught in my throat, and I was about to scream when a hand firmly clamped over my mouth. “Shh, don’t make a sound. It’s me.” I froze. The voice belonged to Nora.

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I’m blind. Yet I have a billion-dollar fortune and a husband I’ve loved for years. I thought this was heaven’s blessing. But on our third wedding anniversary, my guide dog — dead for a week — spoke to me. Master, don’t go near the pool. He removed the electrical breaker. The water is live. He spiked your champagne. He and that woman in the red dress want everything you have! Our third wedding anniversary. A dinner banquet on a cruise ship. The sea breeze hit my face, sharp with salt and moisture. I held Arthur Sterling’s arm, listening to the guests around us lavish their praise. “Arthur is so devoted to Scarlett. A dinner cruise — how romantic.” “Scarlett may not be able to see, but a husband like Arthur? She must have done something right in a past life.” I kept a polite smile on my lips. Inside, something bitter stirred. A week ago, my guide dog Atlas was killed — struck by an out-of-control car while we were out on a walk. He had been my eyes for five years. “Scarls, are you tired?” Arthur’s voice was warm and smooth. His palm settled gently over the back of my hand. “Let me take you to the outdoor pool on the upper deck. Get some fresh air — it’s quieter up there.” I was about to nod when a bark cut through the noise — familiar, yet impossible. Master, don’t go! He removed the pool’s electrical safety breaker. The water is live with high-voltage current! My whole body went rigid. My blood ran cold. That voice… Atlas? I told myself it was grief. That I’d been missing him so badly my mind had started playing tricks. “What’s wrong? Is the wind too cold?” Arthur noticed the change in me. With practiced care, he slipped off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders. He’s lying. His jacket still smells like her perfume. The woman named Vanessa is standing at your ten o’clock right now — red dress, and your mother’s diamond necklace around her neck. Atlas’s voice was sharp and furious. Every word cut straight through me. Vanessa. My personal assistant. The person I trusted most in the world. My grip tightened around my white cane. My knuckles went pale. After a stunned silence, I turned to Arthur — who was already steering me toward the pool — and said, “Arthur, my stomach’s bothering me. The champagne was probably too cold. I need to use the restroom.”

Arthur stopped. “Your stomach? I’ll come with you.” There was a faint edge in his voice beneath the concern. “You can’t come into the women’s restroom.” I kept my voice level. “Let Vanessa take me. She should be close by.” “Vanessa… she went to check on the dinner schedule for me.” Arthur’s hand tightened slightly around mine. “I’ll walk you to the door.” Master, that woman is standing right across from him. They were just looking at each other. She’s smiling! I took a slow breath, pulled my hand free, and let my white cane tap against the deck. “Okay.” The corridor to the restroom was quiet. Only the tap of my cane broke the silence. Arthur held my arm — tighter than usual, as if afraid I might slip away. “Scarls,” he murmured near my ear, “after tonight, we’ll be together forever.” Once, I would have thought those were the most beautiful words I’d ever heard. Now they made my skin crawl. At the restroom door, I felt for the handle and pushed it open. “I’ll wait out here.” Arthur let go. I stepped inside, locked the door behind me, and leaned against it, chest heaving. Master, don’t drink anything he hands you. He put a heavy dose of sleeping pills in your champagne. He wants you to “slip” at the poolside and fall into the water — make it look like an accidental electrocution. Atlas’s voice came from somewhere near my feet. I looked down. Everything was black, as always. But I could feel it — I was certain of it — his soft, warm head pressing gently against my leg. “Atlas… is that really you?” I whispered, somewhere deep inside my mind. It’s me, Master. I didn’t move on. I’m staying to protect you. The driver who hit me — Arthur paid him. He hired someone to kill me. Because I bit Vanessa when she snuck into your study. They were afraid I’d ruin everything. Tears broke free and slid down my face. This ten-billion-dollar fortune was what my parents left behind to protect me. And Atlas — we had lived side by side for years. He was my eyes. He died under someone else’s wheels because he was protecting me. How much pain was he in, at the end?

I turned on the faucet and splashed cold water against my cheeks, forcing myself to calm down. I couldn’t let this blow up. Not yet. We were on a cruise ship in international waters. If I provoked him, he might do something desperate. I had to get off this ship alive. I felt my way through touching up my makeup, then pushed open the bathroom door. “Feeling better?” Arthur stepped toward me, his voice back to that sickeningly gentle tone. “Still not great. Arthur, I want to go back to the room and rest.” I pressed a hand to my stomach, brow furrowed, putting on a show of weakness. Arthur went quiet for two seconds. 【Master, he’s clenching his jaw. He’s furious.】 “Alright. If you’re not feeling well, we’ll head back to the room. I’ll have someone clean up the pool area.” Arthur gave in and guided me toward the cabin. The VIP suite was thick with the scent of expensive incense. “Scarls, lie down. I’ll get you some hot water.” I leaned against the headboard, listening to his footsteps as he walked toward the mini bar. 【Master, he put a white powder in the water! It’s a hallucinogen! He wants you to lose your mind and jump overboard!】 My heart seized. I gripped the bedsheets with both hands. “Here’s your water. It’s a little hot — drink slowly.” Arthur placed the glass in my hands. The warmth from the glass made my blood run cold. “Arthur, I want something sweet to settle my stomach. Could you go to the restaurant and get me a slice of Black Forest cake?” I cradled the glass, keeping my voice soft and sweet. “Well…” Arthur hesitated. “What’s wrong? You don’t want to?” I lowered my head slightly, letting a hint of hurt creep into my voice. “Of course I do. Wait here — I’ll be right back.” The moment the door clicked shut, I threw back the covers, felt my way to the bathroom, and poured the spiked water down the toilet. I flushed it away. Then I refilled the glass with tap water and made my way back to bed.

A few minutes later, Arthur returned with the cake. “Scarls, cake’s here.” I picked up the glass and, right in front of him, drank the “water” down in one go. “Thank you, honey.” I took the cake and nibbled a small bite. “It’s so sweet.” Arthur sat on the edge of the bed, watching me in silence. I could feel his gaze crawling over my face like a snake — slow and sticky. “Scarls, do you feel dizzy at all?” he asked, probing. “No, why?” I played dumb. 【Master, he’s checking his watch. He’s timing it.】 I yawned and rubbed my temples. “Though, I do feel a little sleepy.” “Then sleep. You’ll feel better after some rest.” Arthur helped me lie down and tucked the blanket around me. I closed my eyes, slowed my breathing, and pretended to be fast asleep. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed before the room door was quietly pushed open. Heels moved across the carpet — soft, but to my sharp ears, it might as well have been thunder. “She’s asleep?” It was Vanessa’s voice, barely above a whisper. “Yeah. The drug should be kicking in by now.” There was a trace of satisfaction in Arthur’s voice. “This blind woman is surprisingly hard to kill. We almost had her on the deck.” Vanessa let out a cold laugh. “So what now? Just throw her overboard?” “No. The ship has cameras everywhere. If she goes over now, the police will investigate.” Arthur’s voice turned cold. “Once we dock tomorrow and get back to the villa, I have plenty of ways to make her ‘accidentally’ die.” “Then you’d better move fast. That old man has been auditing the accounts like crazy lately. If he finds out we’ve been siphoning funds, we’re done.” “Relax. Once this blind woman is dead and the will kicks in, the entire Sinclair Group is ours.” 【Master, that woman is kissing him. They’re holding each other!】 Under the blanket, my hand dug hard into my thigh. I used the pain to hold back the urge to leap up and kill them both.

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Jessica was losing her mind in the family SnapChat group, bragging that she was about to marry into a billion-dollar dynasty — and then had the nerve to demand I hand over the old mansion my parents left me as her wedding gift. Her mother Barbara piled on, sneering that I was a twenty-nine-year-old woman destined to die alone, that no one would ever truly love me, and that I deserved to rot in the gutter for the rest of my life. What they didn’t know was that I had just officially registered my marriage to the man who runs that entire empire. I watched the mother-daughter duo lose their minds in the group chat, then turned and leaned back into my husband’s arms. “Honey,” I said, “your son’s yacht is too loud. Take it away from him.” The next day, at Jessica’s billion-dollar engagement party, I slowly raised my left hand. The diamond on my ring finger blazed under the lights. “Be a good girl.” I said. “Call me Mom.” The family group chat was blowing up, with messages flooding in at ten per second. My cousin Jessica had posted several sets of photos. In the pictures, she was wearing a couture gown, standing on the deck of a luxury yacht, surrounded by champagne, roses, and a foreign band playing violins. [Girls, Julian absolutely insisted on throwing me some yacht bachelorette thing. The rental alone is over a million a day. He’s so extra.] The relatives swarmed in like sharks smelling blood. The screen filled with shameless flattery. [Oh my gosh, Jessie is so lucky! That’s the Sterling family — the richest family in the east city!] [Jessie was always gorgeous. She was born to be a trophy wife!] [Once Jessie becomes the mistress of Sterling family, don’t forget to scoop us poor relatives up!] Barbara was absolutely high on herself. [Everyone celebrate! Our Jessie’s engagement party is at The Peninsula Hotel next week — come soak up some of that Sterling family’s luck!] Then Barbara tagged me directly. [@Katherine — Kate, your little cousin is marrying into a billion-dollar family and you can’t even be bothered to say a word?] I was in the middle of examining a set of architectural restoration blueprints when my phone started buzzing nonstop. I glanced at it. Before I could respond, Barbara’s next message popped up. [Actually, I need to talk to you about something. Jessie’s marrying into the Sterling family, and her wedding gift can’t be cheap. That old mansion your parents left you — the one downtown — you need to sign it over to Jessie. The Sterling family have high standards. Jessie needs assets in her name to hold her ground in that family.] I stared at the screen and laughed despite myself. That mansion was the only thing my late parents left me. Why on earth would I give it away as a wedding present? I typed two words. [In your dreams.] The group went silent for exactly one second. Then Jessica jumped in, dripping with condescension. [Kate, why are you so selfish? If I marry well, I can take care of you too, you know. You’re already twenty-nine — you’re going to die alone with nobody loving you. You don’t even have a real job, just messing around with old bricks and broken walls all day. My mom set you up with that village mayor’s disabled son the other day and you actually turned him down?] Barbara followed up immediately, her tone pure acid. [Exactly! Who do you think you are, some kind of princess? That mansion is wasted on you. Give it to Jessie so she has something to stand on. You’re almost thirty, and you’re going to die alone — no one will ever truly love you. Stop being so picky! You’ll never even get close to a family like the Sterling family in your lifetime!] I read the words on the screen, cold and utterly unmoved. What they didn’t know was that I hadn’t just gotten close to a family like the Sterlings. I had walked straight through the front door — and welded it shut behind me. I turned off the screen and sighed. A pair of hands — lean, with defined knuckles — reached from behind me and wrapped around my waist. Arms folded me into a warm embrace that smelled faintly of cedar. “What’s with the sigh? Who upset my wife?” His voice was deep and unhurried, with a lazy edge to it. I leaned back into him and held the screen up so he could see it. “Your son,” I said. “He’s throwing a party on your yacht to impress his girlfriend. It’s giving me a headache just looking at it.” Edward Sterling. The richest man in the east city. The true power behind Sterling Group. He was also my legal husband—we had just registered our marriage yesterday. He scanned the photos on the screen, then let out a short, cold laugh. “Using my stuff to show off. Pathetic.” He picked up the phone and dialed. “Walter — dock the Victoria. Send it in for maintenance. Right now.” He hung up, then dipped his head and pressed his lips lightly to my ear. “Done. I fly to London tomorrow for a merger meeting. Back in three days. While I’m gone — if anyone gives you trouble, throw money at them. It’s on me.” The warmth of his breath made me tuck my chin down instinctively. “Got it, Boss Sterling.”

The next day, I had no intention of going to Jessica’s engagement party. Then I got a call from the nursing aide at the hospital. Grandma had taken a turn for the worse. She’d been asking for me. Grandma was the only family member I had left in this world — and the only person in the Cole family who had ever genuinely loved me. I threw on a white button-down and jeans, grabbed my bag, and rushed to the hospital. When I got to her room, her bed was empty. The bed was empty. The aide was in a panic. “Ms. Katherine — Barbara came with a few people and forced her out. Said something about an engagement party. Your grandmother still had her IV line in!” My head rang like a struck bell. A white-hot surge of fury shot straight to the top of my skull. Grandma had a serious heart condition. She couldn’t handle any kind of stress or exertion. Had Barbara completely lost her mind?! I called Barbara immediately. It rang for a long time before she picked up. Behind her voice was the thump of music and the buzz of a crowd. “Hello? Katherine, finally.” Barbara’s voice was dripping with self-satisfaction. “Where is my grandmother? Where did you take her?!” I demanded. “Oh, keep your voice down. She’s Jessie’s grandmother too, you know. Of course she had to be here for her granddaughter’s engagement. We’re in the VIP lounge at the top of The Peninsula.” Barbara let out a dismissive snort. “You want to see her? Fine. Bring the deed to that mansion. You sign it over today, or you don’t see her. That’s the deal.” “You’re using Grandma as leverage?!” “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m doing this for the good of the family. Now hurry up — Julian is about to arrive!” The line went dead. I stood there gripping my phone so hard my knuckles went white. The Peninsula Hotel. A top property of Sterling Group. I took a slow breath, flagged down a cab, and headed straight there. The entrance was packed with luxury cars. A red carpet stretched out for dozens of feet, with security so airtight not even a fly could slip through. I made it as far as the lobby before a guard stepped in front of me. “I’m sorry, ma’am. The top floor has been reserved exclusively by Sterling Group today. May I see your invitation?” I didn’t have one. I was reaching for my phone to call Edward’s assistant when a sharp voice cut through from the elevator bay. “Well, well. If it isn’t our family’s prim little old maid. Can’t even get through the front door?” I looked up. Jessica swept across the lobby in an obscenely ornate diamond-studded gown and four-inch heels, flanked by a cluster of bridesmaids. She looked me up and down, her eyes full of contempt. “Tsk tsk. This is a Sterling engagement party, and you showed up looking like that? Someone might think you’re here to collect recyclables.” Her bridesmaids burst into muffled laughter behind their hands. I looked at her flatly. “Where’s Grandma?” Jessica rolled her eyes. “What’s the rush? Mom’s with her upstairs. Did you bring the deed?” “I’ll ask one more time.” I stepped forward, my voice sharp as a blade. “Where is Grandma?” Jessica flinched slightly at my tone, then puffed herself back up with wounded pride. “Katherine, what exactly are you so high and mighty about? You think you’re still the straight-A golden girl who used to outshine me? Let me tell you something — after today, I’m the mistress of the Sterling family. Crushing you would be like stepping on an ant!” “Is that so?” I sneered. “The mistress of the Sterling family? You sure have a big imagination.” Just then, a ripple of excitement spread through the lobby. “Julian Sterling is here! Julian Sterling!” Jessica’s whole face lit up. She shoved past me, gathered her skirts, and fluttered toward the entrance like a butterfly chasing a flame. “Julian!” I turned. Julian Sterling — Edward · Sterling’s only son — walked in through the doors in a tailored suit, surrounded by a team of bodyguards. He was handsome, no question. But standing next to his father, Edward, who carried thirty years of power and hard-won authority in every line of his face — Julian still had a long way to go. Jessica hooked her arm through Julian’s, practically pressing her entire body against his. “Julian! What took you so long? I’ve been waiting for you forever.” Julian patted her hand absently, his eyes sweeping the lobby. When his gaze landed on me, it stopped.

Julian’s brow drew together slightly. Something shifted in his expression — confusion, and something close to shock. He stared at me for a solid five seconds. Jessica followed his line of sight and went pale. She dug her fingers into his arm, her voice going shrill. “Julian, why are you looking at her?!” Julian shook her off without a word and walked straight toward me. Every pair of eyes in the lobby swung in our direction. “Have we met somewhere before?” His tone was unusually polite — almost careful. Jessica came barreling after him, shoved herself between us, and pointed a finger at my face. “Katherine! Have you no shame?! Did you seriously dress like that just to seduce my fiancé?!” “You’re twenty-nine, completely unlovable, destined to die alone — and you’re going after your own cousin’s future husband?! Do you have any decency at all?!” The lobby erupted in sharp intakes of breath. Whispers raced through the crowd. “Did she really come here to go after her cousin’s fiancé?” “She looks so sweet. Hard to believe she’d pull something like that.” “Twenty-nine and still single — she’s probably just desperate for money.” I looked at Jessica’s face, twisted with jealousy, and found it almost funny. “Jessica,” I said calmly, “do you have some kind of paranoia? The man you think is such a prize? He’s nothing to me.” “You dare talk back to me?!” Barbara must have rushed out of the elevator at some point. She came charging straight at me, raising her hand to slap me across the face. I grabbed her wrist and shoved it back, hard. Barbara wobbled on her heels and went down. “Help! She hit me!” Barbara wailed from the floor, making a scene for anyone who would watch. “This pathetic, loveless old woman just assaulted me!” “Security!” Jessica was screaming now, pointing at me like I was a fire that needed to be put out. “Get her out of here!” Two broad-shouldered guards closed in from both sides. “Ma’am, you need to leave the premises. If you resist, we will remove you by force.” I ignored the guards. My eyes stayed locked on Barbara. “I’ll ask one last time. Where is my grandmother?” Barbara dragged herself off the floor, seething. “You want the old woman? Fine. She’s in a storage room on the top floor. You don’t sign, you don’t see her.” My blood ran cold. A storage room. Grandma’s heart couldn’t take a room with no ventilation. What was Barbara thinking?! I turned and lunged for the elevator. Both guards grabbed my shoulders and pinned me back. “Let go of me!” I struggled. “Throw her out!” Jessica shrieked. “Don’t let her trash the Sterling family’s space!” Julian stood off to the side, frowning, visibly torn about whether to step in. “Hold on,” he finally said. “Julian! You’re taking her side?!” Jessica’s eyes filled with tears on the spot. Julian didn’t look at her. He looked at me. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’re making a scene at my engagement party. That’s not okay. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.” I stared at him — at that cool, effortlessly superior expression — and suddenly I smiled. I stopped struggling. Smoothed out my shirt where it had been grabbed. “Julian,” I said. “Are you sure you want to throw me out?” His jaw tightened when I used his name directly. “I don’t care who you are. Nobody causes a scene on Sterling family. Security — escort her out.” “Alright,” I said quietly. “Fine.” I raised my left hand slowly and held my ring finger inches from his face. “Open your eyes and look carefully.” The diamond caught the lobby lights and threw brilliance in every direction. The room went dead silent. Julian looked down. And froze.

It was an enormous diamond ring. The cut was flawless — it fractured the lobby lights into a thousand tiny shards of fire. And along the inside of the ring, engraved in clean letters, were two names. Edward. Katherine. The color drained from Julian’s face. White, then gray, then a sickly green. He couldn’t stop staring at the ring. His lips trembled slightly. “This… this isn’t possible…” Jessica hadn’t read the engraving yet. She’d just watched Julian’s face collapse. She lunged forward and grabbed for my hand. “Oh, please, Katherine — where’d you get a fake ring? Did you seriously think this little stunt would get Julian’s attention?!” Barbara crowded in beside her. “Has to be a fake! What kind of woman would go this far just to claw her way up? What are you all standing around for — get her out of here!” Julian reached out and pushed Jessica away from me. Hard. Hard enough that she stumbled and fell. “Julian—” Jessica stared up at him from the floor, disbelief all over her face. He didn’t look at her. With both hands trembling, he lifted my left hand and brought it close, eyes fixed on the names engraved inside the ring. He read them for what felt like a full minute. Then he looked up at me, and there was nothing in his expression but shock and complete bewilderment. “You… you…” He couldn’t get a sentence out. I looked down at him, my voice cool. “Can’t read anymore?” I stepped closer. “Legally speaking, I’m your father’s wife.” I let that land. “Which means I’m your stepmother.” “So.” I tilted my head. “Do you still want to throw me out?” The lobby detonated. The collective gasp was ten times louder than anything before it. “She married Edward?!” “The Edward Sterling? That ruthless, untouchable man?!” “That’s not possible — how is that possible?!” Jessica, still on the floor, let out a shriek. “That’s a lie! Absolute lie! You’re a fraud, Katherine! Where did you get that fake ring?! Why would Chairman Sterling ever look twice at a woman like you — some loveless, lonely nobody?!” Barbara found her voice too. “She’s trying to sabotage Jessie’s wedding! Showing up with a prop ring! You could go to prison for this!” She spun toward Julian. “Call the police! She’s delusional!” Julian didn’t respond to either of them. He pulled out his phone. His fingers were unsteady. The lobby held its breath. The call connected. “Alfred…” Julian’s voice came out dry and hollow. “Did my father… get married?” Whatever Edward’s personal assistant said on the other end, Julian’s face went completely bloodless. His hand dropped slowly to his side. “It’s true,” he murmured. “What?” Jessica scrambled up and grabbed his arm. Julian turned to look at her. His eyes were unreadable — complex and faintly disgusted. “She is, in fact, my father’s lawfully wedded wife.” Jessica went rigid like someone had cut her strings. Barbara’s jaw went slack, her eyes wide and glassy. I didn’t have time to enjoy any of it. I pushed Julian out of my way. “Move. If anything happens to my grandmother because of this, I will make every single one of you pay.” I shoved into the elevator and hit the top floor button. As the doors closed, I heard the lobby erupt behind me — louder than anything that had come before.

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Have you ever wondered if the person sharing the bed with you every night—the one you’ve been passionately tangled with—isn’t actually who you married? On our tenth wedding anniversary, Nathan pressed me against the floor-to-ceiling windows. His burning lips traced my collarbone, his calloused hands gentle yet commanding as they stole the breath from my lungs. “Happy tenth anniversary, baby.” But my body wouldn’t stop trembling, my stomach turning inside out. Because just one hour ago, I had discovered something: the back of his neck bore no trace of Nathan Jarvis’s signature maroon birthmark. The night was ink-black, the city’s brilliant neon lights glittering beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. I could feel the warmth of his palms through the thin silk of my nightgown, searing into my waist. They were calloused hands—rough, marked by years of writing and working out. But the real Nathan—that privileged rich man who’d never done a day of physical labor in his life, who could barely peel an apple without cutting himself—how could he have hands like these? “Elena, you’re shaking?” He paused, pulling back half an inch, his dark eyes locking onto me through the dim light. I bit down hard on my lower lip, forcing back the scream clawing its way up my throat. “I’m fine. The AC is too cold.” I forced a smile, wrapped my arms around his neck, and buried my face against his chest—so he couldn’t see the terror in my eyes. His heartbeat was strong and steady. This body—I had held it for three thousand six hundred and fifty nights, knew it so well I could trace every inch with my eyes closed. But now my mind kept pulling me back to an hour ago, when I’d been tidying his discarded suit and found something in the most hidden inner pocket: a silver pendant—crescent-shaped, its edges crusted with dried dark-brown blood. That pendant had been around Nathan’s neck the night of his car accident, ten years ago. When the police cleared the scene, it had vanished. Everyone assumed it had been destroyed in the explosion. “Let me turn the temperature up then.” He laughed softly, pressed a kiss to the top of my head, and turned to grab the remote. The moment he turned away, I caught the light streaming through the windows and stared—hard—at the back of his neck. Smooth. Bare. Nothing. The real Nathan Jarvis had a maroon birthmark on the back of his neck, one he’d been born with. I had traced it with my fingertips countless times after we made love. He’d always laugh and pull away, saying that spot was too sensitive. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the bathroom mirror: eyes red, lips trembling. I looked away fast. That night was the longest of my life. I moved like a hollow puppet, going through every expected motion. But the rational part of me kept cycling through one suffocating thought: If he isn’t Nathan Jarvis, then who is he? And more importantly—where is my Nathan?

The next morning, his car rolled out through the estate’s gate. I didn’t fall apart. I went straight to the study. On the top shelf of Nathan’s bookcase sat a combination lockbox holding all of his college-era belongings. After the accident, he’d never opened it again. He said he didn’t want to force memories that wouldn’t come back. I tried Nathan’s birthday: wrong code. I tried my birthday: wrong code. I stopped. I thought back to the day he proposed, ten years ago: “Elena, the day I met you was the day my life began again.” That day was September 12th. With trembling fingers, I pressed 0912. Beep— The lockbox opened. Inside were several journals, some yellowed photographs, and a college yearbook. The real Nathan had beautiful handwriting—precise and elegant, carrying the quiet confidence of someone who lived in his own mind. I pulled out the journals and the yearbook and went through them page by page. The last page of the yearbook held a photo. Nathan and another guy, arms thrown around each other’s shoulders, grinning easily. The other guy looked about seventy percent like Nathan—but his eyes were dark and brooding, nothing like Nathan’s warmth. My finger stopped on that face. I had seen those eyes somewhere before. I flipped the photo over. Two lines of writing on the back. The top line, in Nathan’s handwriting: “My best brother, Kevin Prescott.” The bottom line, scrawled in a rushed, messy hand: “If something happens to me, find Andrew Nelson.” Andrew Nelson. That name hit me like a bolt of lightning. Andrew, now one of the top lawyers in the city, was Nathan’s college roommate. After the accident, “Nathan” had gradually pulled away from him, citing personality differences — something I hadn’t thought much of at the time, but which now sent a chill down my spine. Why would the real Nathan leave behind those words in advance? “If something happens to me” — he had already sensed something, before the accident even happened. I pulled out my backup phone and dialed the number for Andrew Nelson’s law firm. “Hello, I’m Elena Jarvis. Nathan Jarvis’s wife.” There was a full thirty seconds of silence on the other end. I almost thought he was going to hang up. “Mrs. Jarvis, I’m listening.” His voice was low and calm. “Andrew, there’s something I need to tell you in person. About Nathan.” “Three o’clock this afternoon. The abandoned factory on the outskirts of town. Don’t drive your own car. Don’t bring any device with GPS tracking.” He didn’t ask what I’d found. He didn’t ask why I was being so careful. It was as if he had been waiting for this call for a very long time.

The abandoned factory on the outskirts of town was surrounded by overgrown weeds. The air smelled of motor oil and rust. Andrew was standing beside a rusted oil drum in a black trench coat, a half-burned cigarette between his fingers. When he saw me approaching, he crushed it out. “Mrs. Jarvis, you’re sharper than I expected.” “You knew?” My voice trembled. “I’ve suspected for ten years.” He didn’t turn to look at me, his gaze fixed on the grey sky in the distance. “A week before the accident, ten years ago, Nathan came to me. He said Kevin Prescott was obsessively impersonating him — wearing the same clothes, using the same cologne, copying the way he walked, the way he talked. Everything.” He paused. “I told him to relax. Said it was probably just a coincidence. A week later, the accident happened. When the man who woke up in that hospital looked at me with those unfamiliar eyes, I knew. He wasn’t Nathan.” I handed him the pendant and the photo. Andrew stared at the pendant, his fingers tightening around it. He didn’t say a word. “He kept it,” I said. “Why?” Andrew slowly shook his head. There was a flicker of confusion in his expression — the kind he didn’t even seem aware of. “That’s his biggest mistake. And the one thing I’ve never been able to figure out.” He handed the pendant back to me, his voice returning to its usual calm. “Mrs. Jarvis, we can’t go to the police yet. Kevin Prescott has control over the entire Jarvis Group. Without ironclad evidence, making a move now will only tip him off. You need to keep playing the devoted wife. Stay close to him. Find the proof from back then.” “Can you do that?” I closed my eyes. I thought about last night. About those calloused hands. “Yes.” I opened my eyes. “But you haven’t answered one of my questions.” “What question?” I looked at him. “Nathan — is he alive or dead?” Andrew’s expression faltered for just a fraction of a second. Less than a second. But I caught it. “I don’t know,” he said. I held his gaze and said nothing more.

Back in that gilded cage of a mansion, I began the most grueling — and most nauseating — performance of my life. Kevin Prescott was a remarkably sharp and suspicious man. Ten years of living as Nathan Jarvis without a single slip — that took the kind of near-obsessive caution and need for control that bordered on pathological. I had to bury every ounce of hatred, fear, and disgust deep inside me, and meet him with the most perfect smile and the sweetest voice I could manage. “Honey, you’re home.” That evening, when Kevin pushed open the front door, I was already there to greet him — wearing his favorite silk slip, holding a warm bowl of soup I’d spent the afternoon making, a bright smile fixed on my face. His gaze lingered on me for a few seconds. It was the kind of look that searched and dissected, like he was trying to see straight through me. My heart leapt into my throat, but I kept my smile perfectly in place. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do I have something on my face?” I asked, touching my cheek with a playful pout. He smiled suddenly. The suspicion in his eyes receded like a tide, replaced by that familiar, hollow tenderness. “No. I just think my wife looks especially beautiful tonight.” He reached out and wrapped an arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my forehead. I swallowed back the nausea rising in my stomach and held the bowl out to him. “Drink it while it’s hot.” In the days that followed, I was like a dancer on a razor’s edge — moving carefully, doing everything I could to keep this fragile, false peace intact. During the day, I play the role of the wife of the Jarvis Group’s CEO, accompanying him to social events, putting on a show of the loving couple we’d supposedly been for ten years. At night, once he fell asleep, I’d slip into the bathroom and use the encrypted phone Andrew had given me to exchange messages with him. Andrew was quietly digging through the files from the car accident ten years ago, searching for overlooked clues. Meanwhile, I was hunting obsessively through Kevin’s daily life for any crack in his armor. I started deliberately testing the real Nathan’s weak spots. The real Nathan had a severe allergy to mangoes — even touching one would break him out in hives. When Kevin first “woke up,” he’d refused to go near mangoes, careful not to blow his cover. But as time passed, his guard seemed to have slipped. On the weekend, I cooked myself and put together a full spread, including a mango dessert. “Honey, try this — I just learned how to make it.” I cut a small piece and held it out to him. Kevin looked at the golden-yellow dessert, and a slight frown crossed his face. “Elena, did you forget? I’m allergic to mango.” His voice carried a faint note of reproach. I covered my mouth in exaggerated surprise. “Oh no, how did I forget that! I’m so sorry, my memory has been terrible lately. But…” I paused, locking my eyes on his, the ghost of a cold smile playing at the corner of my lips. “But honey, I could’ve sworn I saw you eating a piece of dried mango in the study the other day while you were going through documents. I actually thought maybe the accident changed your body somehow, and the allergy just went away.” The air seemed to freeze. The expression on Kevin Prescott’s face went rigid. His pupils contracted sharply, and something ice-cold and terrifying flashed through those eyes that usually looked so warm. He was studying me. Calculating whether what I’d just said was an innocent slip — or a deliberate test. My palms were drenched in cold sweat, but I held his gaze without flinching, keeping my expression wide-eyed and confused. “Is that so?” After a long silence, he suddenly laughed. The sound of it echoed through the empty dining room in a way that made my skin crawl. “I must have been so absorbed in those documents that I wasn’t paying attention to what I was eating. Though, allergies are funny things — maybe you’re right. Maybe my body really did change.” He picked up the plate of dessert, grabbed a spoon, scooped up a large bite, and put it in his mouth without a moment’s hesitation. “It’s good.” He swallowed and smiled at me. I watched him finish every last bit of that mango dessert, and I felt no triumph at all — only a bone-deep chill. He was terrifying. To cover his tracks, he was willing to risk an “allergic reaction” just to keep the act going perfectly. He had already figured out I was testing him. From that day on, I could clearly feel Kevin’s surveillance ratcheting up. My car was bugged. My phone was showing unexplained data usage. Even the route I took every day to buy groceries was being tracked by someone in the shadows. I was like prey caught in a spider’s web — the more I struggled, the tighter it pulled. But I couldn’t stop. I told Andrew about Kevin eating the mango. “He’s sending you a warning.” Andrew’s voice sounded unusually heavy through the encrypted phone. “Elena, you’re taking too many risks. Kevin is the kind of person who will do absolutely anything to protect what he has. You need to be more careful.” “I know.” I spoke through clenched teeth, hatred burning in my eyes. “But I have to push him until he slips up. Andrew — that woman who’s been playing Nathan’s mother, Morgan Palmer. What have you found out about her?” The real Nathan’s parents had died when he was young. He’d only had a distant aunt. After the accident, Kevin had brought this woman in and introduced her to the world as Nathan’s adoptive mother, claiming he was letting her live out her remaining years in comfort. But both Andrew and I suspected that Morgan Palmer wasn’t who she claimed to be at all — she was Kevin’s accomplice. “I found it.” Andrew’s voice carried a hint of excitement. “This Morgan Palmer is no distant aunt. Her real identity is the cousin of Kevin Prescott’s biological mother. Ten years ago, she racked up massive gambling debts, and Kevin paid off every last cent — on one condition: that she play along with his little act.” I let out a cold laugh. Birds of a feather. “Next month is Morgan Palmer’s sixtieth birthday, and Kevin is throwing her a huge party at The Jarvis Manor.” A sharp gleam flickered in my eyes. “That will be our perfect chance to tear off their masks.”

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For half a million dollars, I sold myself to the most notorious pervert on Wall Street. When I was forced to go up to the penthouse suite to deliver on that deal, the elevator malfunctioned mid-ride and locked up completely. Trapped in that suffocating little box, wearing nothing but a thin, sheer red dress, I stabbed at the emergency call button in despair. The elevator doors were wrenched open by hydraulic cutters. Blinding light flooded in. The man leading the rescue — the owner of the club — was Roman Cross. My ex-boyfriend. The one I’d ruthlessly walked away from three years ago for half a million dollars. He stood there in a bespoke suit, looking down at me from above — disheveled, barely covered, shaking like a leaf. The manager beside him wiped sweat from his forehead in a panic. “Mr. Cross, the woman inside… she’s here as a paid escort—” Roman snatched the tool out of the man’s hands. His eyes dropped to the hem of my dress, dark and unreadable. His jaw was tight. “Chloe Bennett.” His voice came out through clenched teeth. “Where’s the old man who paid for you? What — did he send you up here to play games alone in an elevator?”

“I didn’t—!” The words burst out of me before I could stop them. It felt like being thrown into an icebox. The air inside the elevator cabin was thin enough to choke on. The malfunction had hit without warning. The cabin lurched violently, the heel of my pump snapped, and I’d gone down hard onto the cold metal floor. The red spaghetti-strap dress my stepmother had forced me into didn’t leave much to the imagination to begin with. When I fell, one strap slipped off my shoulder. A wide stretch of pale skin was now fully exposed under the glare of the emergency floodlights. I yanked at the hem, trying desperately to cover myself. But the more I panicked, the worse it got. The broken strap was caught around my arm and wouldn’t budge no matter how hard I pulled. Cold. But nowhere near as jarring as the sight of Roman’s face on the other side of those doors. He wore a black bespoke suit, perfectly cut. His tie was half-loosened, collar open, the sharp line of his collarbone visible beneath. He held a heavy hydraulic pry bar in one hand. Every inch of him radiated a keep-away kind of danger. Three years. He was more striking than I remembered. And colder. “Didn’t?” Roman let out a short, humorless laugh. He leaned one hand against the edge of the forced-open elevator door. His gaze moved over me like something with edges — scraping slowly across my tangled hair, my half-fallen dress, the redness creeping into the corners of my eyes from fear. “So you came up here alone, to an enclosed space, just to admire yourself?” “Having fun playing dirty, don’t you?” Every word landed like a dull blade. Slow. Deliberate. Meant to hurt. Beside him, the security manager — Bruno — had gone bright red in the face. He held up a flashlight, pointedly keeping his eyes away from the inside of the elevator, and stammered through his words. “M… Mr. Cross… the cabin is stuck between two floors. We need to get her out now. If the cable snaps—” Roman didn’t turn around. He kept his eyes on me. His voice dropped to something that felt like ice. “All of you. Get out.” Bruno blinked. “Mr. Cross? protocol says we can’t leave — if something goes wrong, if someone gets hurt—” “I said. Go wait in the lobby.” Roman still didn’t raise his voice. The chill in those words was enough. Bruno flinched, then quickly ushered the rest of the security team out of the stairwell. The elevator shaft fell silent. Just the two of us. I could hear my own heartbeat pounding like it wanted to break out of my chest. Roman turned the pry bar over in his hand once. Then he dropped it. It hit the ground with a heavy, echoing clang that made my whole body seize up. He didn’t reach for me. He just stood there, looking down. “I asked you a question.” His voice was low. Measured. The way a predator sounds when it’s already close enough. “Where’s the old man who paid half a million for you?” “What — he sent you up alone and didn’t even bother to make sure you got there alive?” My eyes burned. My stomach turned over. My whole body felt hollow with shame. Because three years ago, I was the one who threw a check for half a million dollars in his face and told him I was done — that I wanted money, not him. “Roman.” My voice came out wrecked, thick with tears I was barely holding back. “Can you just pull me up first—” “My ankle. It really hurts.”

The hand Roman had braced against the door frame went rigid. The tendons in the back of his hand stood out, one by one. His jaw was locked so tight the line of it could have cut glass. “Hurts?” A short, sharp scoff. His eyes were full of something that looked a lot like contempt. “Three years ago, when you threw money in my face — did you ever stop to think that it hurt?” He stood above me, backlit. I couldn’t make out the emotions churning in his eyes. All I could feel was the crushing weight of his presence. Then— He bent down suddenly. His long arm reached into the elevator cabin. And grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight I thought my bones would snap. “Ah!” I cried out. Before I could process what was happening, he yanked — hard — and pulled me straight out of the suspended cabin and into the air. The world spun. I slammed into a broad, solid chest. A familiar scent wrapped around me all at once. Cool cedar. A faint trace of tobacco underneath. Roman’s scent. Unmistakably his. Three years ago, I had buried my face in this same chest more times than I could count, falling asleep to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. But now, those arms held nothing but a bone-deep chill. “On your feet.” He said it flatly, then released me like he was dropping a piece of trash. A sharp pain shot through my ankle. I lost my balance and went straight down. My knees hit the concrete. Hard. The skin broke. A thin line of blood seeped through. Roman looked down at me, his expression completely flat. “What’s the matter — that old man of yours never teach you how to stand up straight in front of a real man?” The humiliation hit me like a wave. I bit down on my lip, fighting back tears, and pressed my palms to the ground, trying to push myself up. But my ankle had swollen to the size of a tennis ball. I couldn’t get any leverage. While I was still struggling— A black suit jacket — still warm — came down over my head. It covered my bare shoulders and exposed thighs completely. “Put it on.” Roman turned away, his back to me. His voice was tight with barely controlled irritation. “Then get up.” “I still need the incident report from the club’s security team, Chloe. You’d better start thinking about how you’re going to explain yourself.” “What are you doing up on the rooftop in the middle of the night, dressed like that, waiting for someone.” Chapter 3 I wrapped Roman’s jacket around myself and limped after him. It was long — it fell past my thighs. It was saturated with his scent. Overwhelming. Invasive. Crawling into my nose whether I wanted it to or not. We walked through the club’s top-floor corridor. All marble and low lighting and the kind of quiet that costs money. Along the way, every server and security guard we passed dropped their eyes and stepped aside. “Mr. Cross.” “Good evening, Mr. Cross.” Not one of them dared to breathe too loudly. Not one of them dared to glance at me. I watched Roman’s broad, straight-backed figure move ahead of me. Something complicated twisted in my chest. Three years ago, he was a broke kid getting beaten bloody in underground fight clubs — couldn’t even scrape together a few hundred dollars for medical bills. Now he owned this place. One of the most exclusive, most expensive clubs in the city. On Wall Street, they called him “Mr. Cross” and said it like a prayer. He’d made it. Just like he’d promised. Right at the top. The only difference was — the person standing beside him wasn’t me anymore. Bang. Roman kicked open the double mahogany doors at the end of the corridor. His private office. He walked in without turning on the main lights. Just clicked on the desk lamp. “Come in.” He turned and looked at me — still frozen in the doorway — with cold, flat eyes. I pressed my jaw together and walked in, dragging my injured foot. The doors swung shut behind me with a heavy, automatic click. The room sealed itself. The office was enormous. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed Vespera’s glittering skyline. Roman stopped in front of the leather sofa, pulled off his tie, and tossed it onto the coffee table without looking. Then he pointed at the seat across from him. “Sit.” I didn’t dare argue. I lowered myself carefully onto the edge of the sofa. The moment I settled, a first aid kit landed at my feet. “Handle it yourself.” He crossed to the bar cart, poured a glass of whiskey, and drank it in one go. I looked down, opened the kit, and took out the antiseptic and some cotton swabs. My ankle was a mess. My knee had dried blood crusted over the scrape. I soaked a swab and touched it to the wound. The sting hit me like a blade. “Ssss—” Roman’s hand paused on his glass. He turned his head. His gaze dropped to my knee. His expression was unreadable. “Funny,” he said. “Three years ago, you had such a high pain tolerance.” He walked toward me, wine glass in hand, looking down at me like I was nothing. “You walked away with half a million dollars and didn’t even glance back. And now you can’t handle a little scratch?” I gripped the cotton swab tighter. My fingertips went white. “Roman, can we just… not talk about the past?” “Not talk about it?” Roman laughed like he’d just heard the most ridiculous thing in the world. He suddenly bent down and grabbed my chin, forcing my head up, making me look him straight in the eyes. “Chloe, you think saying ‘let’s not talk about it’ can just erase everything you did to me?” His fingers were ice cold. His grip hurt. “Do you even know how hard it was raining the day you left?” “I stood under your building the entire night, begging you not to go.” “And what did you say?” Roman’s eyes slowly turned red. His voice came out rough, like gravel. “You said you were sick of struggling alongside me. You said that old man could buy you limited-edition bags. Could give you a mansion to live in.” “You threw that half-million-dollar check in my face and told me that’s exactly what my life was worth.” I closed my eyes. The tears finally broke free. They landed on the back of his hand. Hot. He flinched like he’d been burned and suddenly let go. “Why are you crying?” He straightened up, a cold smirk spreading across his face. “Having regrets now? Figured out that old man can’t satisfy you, so you came crawling back to use me as your fallback?” “Chloe, what exactly do you think I am to you?” Chapter 4 I bit down hard on my lip, refusing to let myself sob out loud. “I didn’t come back for you…” My voice was shaking. “Today… this was an accident.” “An accident?” Roman scoffed. “You accidentally ended up at my club? Accidentally dressed like that? Accidentally got stuck in the elevator?” “And that old bastard Richard — he’s up in the penthouse suite waiting for you, isn’t he?” My head snapped up. I stared at him, stunned. “You… how do you know that?” Roman’s eyes went dangerous in an instant. He leaned in, both hands braced on the back of the sofa, trapping me completely in his shadow. “This is my place. Is there anything that happens here I don’t know about?” “Chloe, you just keep sinking lower and lower.” “Three years ago, at least that old man you found was a legitimate businessman. But this Richard? He’s nothing but a loan shark who clawed his way up from the gutter. A fat, disgusting creep.” “For money, you’ll really stoop that low? Even with someone like him?” Every word hit like a slap across the face. My dignity crushed under his heel. “Yes!” I finally broke. I screamed at him. “I’m exactly that pathetic! I’ll do anything for money!” “Happy now? You’re the great Mr. Cross. Seeing me like this — doesn’t it just make your day?!” I grabbed the first aid kit beside me and hurled it at the floor. Gauze and antiseptic bottles scattered everywhere. “You’ve had your laugh. Now let me go! I still have to get upstairs!” I struggled to my feet and pushed toward the door. But I forgot about my ankle. The moment I took a step, pain exploded through me and I pitched forward. The impact I was bracing for never came. Roman caught me around the waist and yanked me hard into his chest. “Get upstairs?” He repeated those words through gritted teeth. His arms locked around me like iron bands, squeezing so tight it felt like he might crush me. “Chloe, don’t you dare go to him!” His eyes blazed with a rage that looked like it could devour me whole. “I swear — if you walk out that door today, I will have someone break your legs!” “You have no right to tell me what to do!” I fought back with everything I had, pounding my fists against his chest. “We broke up! Let me go!” In the struggle — Thud. The worn little pouch I’d been clutching in my hand fell to the floor. Its contents spilled out. A cheap lipstick. A travel pack of tissues. And a small clear plastic bag that slid all the way to Roman’s feet. Inside it lay a tiny plastic star, folded crookedly. Its edges had gone yellow with age, worn down from years of handling. The entire room went dead silent. Roman froze. He stared at the small sealed plastic bag on the floor, his breathing suddenly ragged. Three years ago, on his birthday, I had folded that for him out of candy wrappers. Back then, we were so broke we couldn’t even afford a cake. I pressed the little star into his palm and smiled. “Roman, this is my lucky star. I’m giving it to you. You’re going to make it big someday, I just know it.” His eyes had gone red. He pulled me into a tight hug and said, “Chloe, when I make enough money, I’ll buy you a real star right out of the sky.” Three years. I’d kept it with me every single day. Even today—on the most humiliating day of my life—I’d hidden it in my bag, the one thing keeping me going. Roman slowly let go of me. He bent down and picked up the sealed bag. His long fingers trembled slightly. His thumb pressed hard against the clear plastic, as if he could reach through it and touch something from the past. “What is this?” He looked up at me. His voice was shaking so badly it barely held together—fragile in a way that broke something inside me.

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In my last life, to please his first love, my scumbag CEO husband locked me in a freezer at twenty below zero and let me freeze to death. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he forced me to donate a kidney to his first love. I was about to slap that blind bastard across the face when a “Destiny Script” suddenly popped up in front of me: [Say yes to him! In two years he’ll die in a plane crash. As his only legal wife, you’ll inherit his hundred-billion-dollar empire!] I looked at the fifty-million-dollar check in front of me and forced my raised hand into a smile instead. So what if I have to “donate a kidney”? For a hundred billion dollars, I’ll play along! “Sign the papers, and the fifty million is yours.” A cold, condescending voice rang out in the VIP hospital room. I snapped my eyes open, gasping for air, my lungs still aching with the bone-deep cold of that freezer at twenty below zero. Cold. So cold. In my last life, Liam Hayes’s first love, Lily Sinclair, had taken a little fall on the stairs and scraped her skin. Liam had flown into a rage, convinced I’d pushed her. To get revenge for Lily, he’d had someone throw me into an abandoned freezer warehouse on the outskirts of the city. “Let her sit in there and think it over for the night. Let her feel what Lily felt.” That one sentence of his had ended my life. I’d pounded on that steel door in the dark and the freezing cold until my fingers bled, until my mind finally went blank. And now, somehow, I’d been reborn. Reborn six months earlier, on the day Lily was diagnosed with kidney failure — the day Liam forced me to give her my kidney. I looked up and stared hard at the man standing at the foot of my hospital bed. Liam. Dressed in a tailored designer suit, his features cold and severe, looking down at me like I was some disposable part waiting to be removed. “Vera Pierce, my patience has a limit.” Seeing I hadn’t said anything, his brow furrowed with impatience as he tossed a surgical consent form and a check onto my face. “Lily’s condition can’t wait any longer. Your blood type’s a perfect match for her. Consider it an honor.” “It’s just one kidney. You won’t die. Fifty million is more than enough for a woman like you to live off for the rest of your life.” An honor? I looked at the papers scattered across the blanket, and hatred bloomed in my chest like poison ivy. I’d loved this man for three years. I’d been his secret mistress for three years, on call whenever he wanted, groveling in the dirt for him. And in return, he wanted to carve out my kidney for another woman. I let out a cold laugh and reached out to grab the check, ready to tear it up and throw it in his arrogant face. Then, hovering in midair, a line of golden text appeared. [Destiny Script loading…] [Host, pay attention! Whatever you do, don’t refuse! Sign the consent form and use it to force him into marrying you!] [Script hint: In two years, Liam will die when his private plane crashes into the sea, his body never recovered! Become his legal wife now, and in two years, the Hayes Group’s hundred-billion-dollar fortune — the mansions, the yachts, everything — will be yours!] [Lily will have spent her whole life scheming, only to watch you walk away with the entire inheritance and a string of boy toys. Sign it, quick!] My outstretched hand froze in midair. A hundred billion dollars? Dead in a plane crash? I stared at those glowing golden words and felt my heart rate spike. Of course I wanted revenge for what happened to me last life. But if I could get revenge AND walk away with a hundred billion dollars, wasn’t that so much better? Just turning around and storming off would let these two trash people off way too easy. I wanted the money. I wanted them dead. And I wanted them to wish they’d never been born! I took a deep breath, swallowed the murderous look in my eyes, and turned my wrist, pinching the fifty-million-dollar check between my fingers. “Fine. I’ll sign.” I looked up and put on my most pitiful expression. “But Liam, I have one condition.” A flicker of contempt crossed Liam’s eyes, like he was laughing at how greedy I turned out to be. “Name it. As long as it doesn’t involve hurting Lily, I’ll give you whatever you want.” I looked him dead in the eye and said, word by word: “I want you to marry me.”

The air in the hospital room froze solid. Liam looked at me like he’d just heard the world’s biggest joke, and then his expression turned venomous. “Vera, are you trying to threaten me?” He leaned in fast, grabbing my chin so hard I thought my bones would crack. “Who do you think you are? You think you deserve to be Mrs. Hayes?” I bit back the pain and let my eyes fill with tears, letting them hover right on the edge of falling, playing “devoted and pathetic” for all it was worth. “Liam, I know I don’t deserve it. But… if I lose a kidney, my body’s never going to be the same. I have nothing left. I just want a title. Even if it’s just on paper.” “If you marry me, I’ll go into surgery right now. Otherwise…” I closed my eyes and let the tears fall. “You can kill me, and I still won’t sign that consent form.” It was a gamble. A bet on exactly how much weight Lily carried in his heart. Sure enough, murderous intent churned in Liam’s eyes as he stared me down for a full minute. Finally, he yanked his hand back from my face and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it off in disgust. “Fine. I’ll agree to it.” His voice was cold as ice. “Tomorrow morning, the marriage registry office. Vera, you’d better pray Lily’s surgery goes well. Otherwise, I’ll show you what it means to wish you were dead.” With that, he turned and strode out of the room. The moment the door shut, the tears on my face vanished instantly. I grabbed a tissue off the table and scrubbed hard at the spot on my chin where he’d touched me. Disgusting. I picked up the surgical consent form, a cold smirk tugging at my lips. Donate a kidney? Keep dreaming. You think my kidney is something trash like you two deserve? That night, I slipped past the bodyguards outside, snuck out of my room, and knocked on the office door of the attending physician, Dr. Ian. Ian was one of the country’s top kidney specialists, and the surgeon set to perform tomorrow’s operation. He looked startled when I walked in. “Vera, you’re having surgery tomorrow. What are you doing out of bed?” I walked over, locked the door behind me, and slapped a bank card down on his desk. “Ian, there’s twenty million in here.” Ian jumped, leaping to his feet. “Vera, what is this supposed to mean?” “It’s simple.” I pulled out a chair and sat down, fixing him with a sharp stare. “Tomorrow’s surgery goes ahead as planned. But my kidney stays exactly where it is, in perfect condition.” Ian’s face went pale. “Are you out of your mind? This is medical fraud! If Mr. Hayes finds out, he’ll kill me!” “If he doesn’t kill you, I’ll ruin your reputation myself.” I pulled out my phone and played a recording. It was Ian flirting with some woman, and him discussing a massive kickback from a pharmaceutical rep. Ian broke out in a cold sweat instantly, collapsing back into his chair. “How… how do you have this?” “If you don’t want people to know, don’t do it in the first place.” I put the phone away and looked at him coldly. “Ian, you’re a smart man. Liam won’t be standing in the operating room watching you cut. All you have to do is make a small incision on my side, just for show. As for Lily, find some pig kidney on the black market or whatever low-grade kidney you can get your hands on, just enough to fool the early rejection tests.” “Twenty million, plus your career. A fake surgery in exchange for all that. Do we have a deal?” Ian was shaking all over, sweat soaking through his white coat. A full five minutes passed before he gritted his teeth and picked up the bank card with trembling hands. “Fine… I’ll do it.”

The next morning, I got my hands on that marriage certificate. Liam stayed stone-faced the entire time, not even glancing at me once he finished signing, before shoving me straight into the car headed to the hospital. That afternoon, the red light above the operating room came on. I went under anesthesia and slept right through it. When I woke up, I was already back in the VIP room. A sharp pain throbbed in my side — Ian had cut a long incision, just to make it look convincing. I weakly opened my eyes. Liam was standing by the window, on the phone. He turned at the sound of movement, his eyes still cold as ever. “You’re awake?” I let out a faint “mm-hm,” putting on a pained expression and clutching my side. “Liam… is Lily okay?” “The surgery was a success.” Liam walked over to the bed, looking down at me, his tone carrying not a trace of gratitude — only warning. “Vera, now that you’re Mrs. Hayes, behave yourself. I’ve transferred this downtown condo to your name. You’ll live here from now on. You’re not to show your face around Lily without my permission.” He dropped a set of keys and walked out without looking back. I watched him go and let out a cold laugh. Not show my face? Don’t worry. I’ll have both of you begging to see me before this is over. Over the next two weeks, I used “post-surgery recovery” as an excuse to comfortably settle into the condo, running up charges on Liam’s supplementary credit card without any shame. Hermès bags — I bought ten at a time, rotating through the colors. Designer gowns — I had the sales reps come straight to my apartment for fittings. Jewelry — anything with diamonds, I swiped the card without blinking. My phone buzzed constantly with bank notification texts. Liam saw it all, of course, but he didn’t say a word. In his eyes, this was just a vain, greedy woman cashing in her “payment” for the kidney. The more he looked down on me, the less he’d see me coming. But the gaudy bags and watches weren’t the point at all. I resold every piece of luxury I bought, converting it all to cash. Add that to the remaining thirty million from the original fifty-million-dollar check, and I had a serious amount of liquid capital building up fast. I was going to use that money to plant a time bomb right at the heart of Liam’s business empire. Two weeks later, my “wound” had “healed.” And Lily had “recovered” and been discharged. To celebrate Lily’s new lease on life, Liam rented out the most luxurious yacht in the city and threw a massive charity gala. As Liam’s secret wife — the one he kept hidden in the shadows — I wasn’t supposed to show up. But I was going to show up anyway.

The yacht deck shimmered with silk and champagne, the air thick with chatter and clinking glasses. Lily, dressed head to toe in a pristine white designer gown, looked like a delicate little flower nestled against Liam’s side, soaking up everyone’s well wishes. “Lily really is blessed. After such a serious illness, and look at her, glowing already.” “Right? It’s all thanks to Mr. Hayes. He searched the entire country to find a matching donor.” I walked into the ballroom in a low-cut red gown that turned every head, champagne glass in hand, ten-inch heels clicking against the deck with every confident step. The moment I appeared, every pair of eyes in the room locked onto me. Liam’s face darkened instantly. He stormed over and hissed under his breath, “Vera! Who let you in here? Get out!” I blinked innocently, pitching my voice just loud enough for the people nearby to hear. “Liam, we’re legally married, aren’t we? You’re throwing Lily a recovery party — how could your own wife possibly miss it?” The room erupted into murmurs. Everyone stared at us, stunned. Liam was married? And not to Lily? Lily’s face went rigid for a split second before she composed herself, her eyes welling up as she walked over, the picture of fragile grace. “Vera… no, Mrs. Hayes. I know you must resent me for taking Liam from you, but today is supposed to be my happy day. Please, don’t make a scene. Okay?” [High alert! The bitch is about to pull a move!] [She’s going to fake-fall into the pool and frame you for it! Host, get ready!] The golden text floated into view again. I looked at Lily’s pitiful, innocent face and let a knowing smirk tug at the corner of my mouth. Fake-falling into the water? So predictable. Just as Lily moved closer, getting ready for her “accidental” stumble, I gasped loudly and grabbed her wrist first. “Watch out, Lily!” I gripped her wrist with all my strength and let my own foot catch on something at the same time. A loud thud. It wasn’t Lily who went into the pool — it was the two of us, crashing hard onto the deck together! And I was the one underneath, taking the full impact! My side slammed directly into a raised edge on the deck. “Ahh—!” I let out a piercing scream, clutching my side, my face going white as a sheet, cold sweat breaking out across my forehead. The whole room went dead silent. Liam’s eyes blazed with rage. He shoved Lily aside and scooped me up into his arms. “Vera! Are you okay?!” I trembled as if I were in agony, pointing at Lily, tears streaming down like rain. “Liam… it hurts so much… my stitches must have torn open… it was her… she pushed me…” Lily stared at me, dazed, sitting on the floor in disbelief. “I didn’t! Liam, I never pushed her! She tripped on her own!” “Enough!” Liam roared, and for the first time, the look he gave Lily was sharp and cold. “Lily, Vera just donated a kidney to save your life. And you push her, now, of all times? I am so disappointed in you.” Lily had no defense, bursting into hysterical tears. I rested against Liam’s chest, eyes closed, looking utterly weak — but at an angle no one else could see, my lips curled into a wild, triumphant grin. You want to play the innocent flower with me? Sweetheart, I wrote that playbook.

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