1 A few days after the Christmas holidays, Mason finally returned home from his trip. In the past, I would have already been waiting downstairs in the lobby to greet him with a hot coffee. This time, I didn’t even bother getting off the couch. My phone buzzed. His voice came through the speaker with his usual commanding tone. “Come down and help me with my bags.” I took a slow, leisurely sip of my chamomile tea and casually rejected him. “I’m busy. Bring them up yourself.” A few minutes later, while I was reclining in my lounge chair soaking up the afternoon sun, Mason walked through the front door, panting and dragging his heavy suitcase. The second he walked in, he started complaining about how starving he was and ordered me to make him lunch. If this were the old me, I would have immediately rushed into the kitchen to cater to his every whim. But today, I just gave him a blank look and told him I wasn’t feeling well. I told him to order DoorDash. Mason was clearly irritated. He suppressed his temper and tried to explain himself, assuming I was still throwing a fit over the fact that he spent Christmas Day keeping Stella company instead of me. He told me to grow up and stop causing drama. I sat up, smoothed out my hair, and calmly told him I wasn’t angry at all. He lit a cigarette. He stubbornly insisted that Stella was just a fragile girl living all alone in the city. He claimed it was dangerous for her to be lonely during the holidays, and as her friend, it was his duty to be there for her. I simply nodded and gave a flat reply. “You’re right.” Mason stared deeply into my eyes, desperately trying to find the familiar jealousy and desperation he was used to. Finding nothing, he rubbed his temples, claiming he was exhausted from his trip and demanding that I show some understanding. I looked right back at him. I repeated that I wasn’t causing drama, and he didn’t need to explain himself to me. My utter indifference left Mason completely speechless. He awkwardly reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a crumpled plastic bag, tossing it onto the coffee table. He said it was my late Christmas present. Inside the bag was a smooth river stone, the cheap acrylic paint on it still slightly sticky. It was a laughable contrast to the diamond tennis bracelet Stella had flaunted on her Instagram story the night before. I thanked him with a completely expressionless face. There was none of the overwhelming joy he had been waiting for. Mason froze. He demanded to know why I wasn’t surprised or happy. I calmly reminded him that this was the twentieth painted rock he had gifted me over the years. His face instantly turned an ugly shade of purple. Changing the subject, he held out his hand and asked where his present was. I shrugged my shoulders and told him I forgot to prepare one. I pulled out my phone, casually offering to just buy him whatever he wanted right now on Amazon. Mason’s pupils constricted. He clearly never expected me to forget. Every single year, picking out his perfect gift was my absolute biggest priority, even though he never once bothered to get me anything of actual value. The air in the living room seemed to freeze solid. We stared at each other in suffocating silence until I picked up my purse and headed for the door. He grabbed my arm, demanding to know where I was going. “Going out with my friends,” I answered flatly. I pulled my arm out of his grip and walked out the door, completely ignoring the string of curses he shouted behind me. Ever since I started dating Mason, his manipulative complaints about wanting to be my “one and only confidant” made me slowly cut off my entire social circle. My friends all thought I had lost my mind. They knew Mason was suffocatingly possessive, so they eventually stopped inviting me out. But now, I was finally reclaiming the freedom and joy that belonged to me. 2 After a few rounds of fruity cocktails, my friends started pouring their hearts out. “We honestly thought you forgot about us the second you got with Mason. If you ever ghost us like that again, we are officially cutting you out of the group chat.” I downed another shot and nodded aggressively, making a solemn vow. “Forget Mason. Forget men. From now on, the girl squad comes first. I promise I’m just a phone call away.” Since getting together with Mason, I had prioritized him above everything else in my life. Whether it was my career or my personal life, he always took the top spot. I abandoned my own support system and drifted completely away from the people who actually cared about me. Looking back on it now, I was unbelievably stupid. I checked my phone screen. Not a single text from him. By the time I finally satisfied my craving for a night out and headed home, it was already three in the morning. I flipped on the living room lights and instantly spotted Mason sitting on the sofa, his face completely black with rage. I rubbed my eyes, genuinely thinking I was hallucinating. Why the hell was Mason awake and waiting for me at this hour? When Mason smelled the heavy scent of alcohol radiating off my clothes, he didn’t even attempt to help me balance. He just looked at me with pure disgust. He covered his nose and sneered. “Harper, why are you letting yourself go like this? I get that you’re jealous, but you shouldn’t trash your own body. Who are you getting blackout drunk for? Do you actually think this makes me feel sorry for you?” The room was spinning. I was seeing stars, and Mason’s angry face was blurring into double vision. Mason frowned as I stumbled against the wall. He muttered under his breath. “You really think you’re so tough, drinking yourself into a state like this.” “Stella and I are completely innocent. We have a pure friendship. There is absolutely no reason for you to be this insanely jealous, turning yourself into a pathetic mess just to prove a point.” I shook my heavy head. “You’re overthinking it. I only drank this much because I finally realized the truth.” Seeing me sway dangerously, Mason’s voice grew harsh and authoritative. “Harper, what more do you want from me? I swallowed my pride and tried to make peace with you, and you’re still not satisfied? When are you going to stop throwing these tantrums? Why can’t you be gentle and understanding like Stella? I have put up with your attitude for way too long. I am not going to spend the rest of my life walking on eggshells to accommodate you.” My head was throbbing. Hearing his voice only made the pounding worse. I leaned against the doorway, exhausted. “Just stop talking. I need to sleep.” Mason finally shut his mouth. He poured a glass of water and stepped forward, trying to help me toward the master bedroom. An image of him and Stella tangled up together flashed through my mind. I violently recoiled, dodging his touch. I blindly navigated my way into the guest bedroom and locked the door behind me. Mason furiously pounded on the wood. I completely ignored him and fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. When I woke up the next morning and opened the door, Mason was standing there with his arms crossed, radiating a freezing anger. I knew he was furious. But I looked right through him, treating him like empty air. I washed my face, brushed my teeth, and walked right out the door to handle my own business. 3 I went straight to my office and handed in my resignation. The job paid garbage and the workload was miserable. If it weren’t for the fact that the office was located right next to Mason’s building, I would have quit years ago. I was completely done suffering for his convenience. My manager tried begging me to stay, but my mind was made up. A few weeks ago, I finally received an answer to a resume I had sent out on a whim. I was offered a highly lucrative executive position at a globally recognized tech firm. This company had always been my absolute dream. I had actually rejected an initial interview with them a year ago just to stay close to Mason. Thankfully, life gave me a second chance, and it wasn’t too late. After finalizing my two weeks’ notice, I handed off my remaining projects and called my girls to plan a celebration. My friends were thrilled for me. But after a moment of cheering, one of them asked the inevitable question. “What about Mason? Is he relocating with you?” I laughed softly into the receiver. “No. He’s staying here. It’s just going to be me. I’m going to end things with him.” With my work transition handled, I started organizing my visa and immigration documents. I didn’t have any parents. In this country, aside from my small circle of friends, Mason was all I had left. I used to foolishly believe that wherever Mason was, that was my home. But now, Mason had become someone else’s home. I was a stray. A piece of driftwood floating aimlessly, ready to let the current take me wherever I was meant to go. When I returned to the apartment, Mason was right in the middle of getting ready to leave. His hair was perfectly styled. He was wearing brand new designer leather shoes and a tailored suit that highlighted his athletic build perfectly. In his hand, he carefully held an exquisite, custom-made artisan cake. I knew exactly what today was. Today was Stella’s birthday. Mason was heading out to celebrate with her. He was on the phone. When he saw me, he held up a finger, signaling me to stay quiet. Then, his voice melted into absolute adoration. “Be good, okay? I got you everything you wanted. I know exactly what you like. Nothing is too expensive for you, babe.” I didn’t know what the person on the other end of the line said, but Mason let out a rare, genuine laugh. His eyes were overflowing with tenderness. Seeing a smile like that directed at me would have been a miracle. He just kept smiling, acting as if I didn’t even exist. But the second he hung up and locked eyes with me, his brow furrowed, and every trace of joy vanished from his face. He granted Stella’s every single wish. He went above and beyond for her. Yet he couldn’t even spare a basic smile for the woman he lived with. His expression turned dark and gloomy. Without saying a single word, he pushed past me with an aura of total disgust. He refused to stay in the same room as me for even a second longer. The front door slammed shut, loud and aggressive. I knew exactly what this was. Mason was punishing me. He was initiating a cold war. And just like every single time before, it was all because of Stella. In the past, I would have broken down. I would have swallowed my pride, begged for forgiveness, and practically slapped myself in the face to get him to talk to me again. Even when he openly showered Stella with affection right in front of me, I used to brainwash myself into accepting it, convincing myself that to love him meant loving his friends too. But right now, I felt nothing but perfect tranquility. I went to the kitchen and started looking up recipes for authentic pasta. I was moving overseas. I needed to start adapting my palate. 4 Just as I finished eating my homemade dinner, I scrolled past Stella’s new post on Instagram. The caption read: “To be loved is to never go to sleep crying.” The comments section was flooded by Mason’s entire friend group. “Damn, Mason! Sneaking off to spoil your girl again!” I scrolled through the replies. Every single one of his guys was hyping her up. Mason’s friends had always looked down on me. They genuinely believed I was the toxic third wheel standing in the way of Mason and Stella’s epic romance. They firmly believed that if I weren’t in the picture, Mason’s life would be flawless. I looked at Mason’s reply to the thread. His friends were absolutely right. Without me, he really would be happier. Mason had replied: “True love conquers all. The right person will always be standing in your future.” I watched them flirt back and forth like a pair of dramatic high schoolers. The comments were flooded with heart emojis. Then, Zack, one of Mason’s closest friends, chimed in with a teasing comment. “You guys better tone it down. Aren’t you worried Harper will see this? She’s obsessively in love with you, bro. Aren’t you scared she’ll throw a massive fit?” I had politely reminded Mason on countless occasions to establish some boundaries with Stella. It was just basic respect to prevent exactly this kind of humiliating gossip. But his friends always called me a classless, uncultured nag. They told me I acted like his mother, and if I was so desperate to control a man, I should just go birth a son of my own instead of treating Mason like a child. Mason never defended me. He silently endorsed their insults, turning around to verbally abuse me himself, claiming my petty jealousy would ruin his reputation. I didn’t fly into a hysterical rage. I didn’t call him to scream. I just kept casually scrolling through TikTok, listening to music until I naturally drifted off to sleep. When Mason finally came home, I was deep in a pleasant dream. He grabbed my shoulders and violently shook me awake. He glared down at me, his voice dripping with venom. “Harper, do you honestly not give a damn about me anymore?! I was out in the city the entire night. Zack’s fiancée was blowing up his phone every ten minutes checking on him. And you? Radio silence! What the hell is your problem? You never used to act like this!” 5 I rubbed my sleepy eyes, completely baffled by his unhinged temper tantrum. Whenever I used to text him asking when he would be home, he would completely lose his mind. He used to scream at me, “Can you rein in your psychotic control issues?! I am a grown man! I need freedom! Don’t you think you’re suffocating me?!” Now that I was giving him exactly what he asked for, he was claiming I was the villain. I honestly couldn’t comprehend his twisted logic. I didn’t bother dragging up the past. I just gave him a cold, flat response. “You’re out drinking, networking, and providing for us. Wouldn’t you be annoyed if I was constantly breathing down your neck? Plus, you said it yourself. You and Stella are strictly platonic. What could I possibly have to be suspicious or worried about?” Mason looked visibly stunned by my sudden display of “maturity.” Or maybe he was just shocked that I could say Stella’s name without descending into hysterics. He gave a slow nod, awkwardly trying to justify himself. “That Instagram comment was just to make Stella feel better on her birthday. Don’t take what my friends say to heart.” I stared blankly at the edge of the blanket, about to speak, but Mason cut me off. “What is with your attitude? Are you still holding a grudge because I went to her birthday dinner? She has a pure heart. She’s incredibly innocent. Yes, we’ve shared a bed before, and yes, we share drinks, but we have never done anything to betray you. We are best friends. If I didn’t show up for my best friend’s birthday, wouldn’t that make me garbage?” I closed my eyes and let out an exhausted sigh. “I understand. You did the right thing. It’s incredibly late. You should get some sleep.” Mason fell completely silent. His dark, glittering eyes locked onto my face, desperately trying to test if I was secretly holding back a volcanic rage. After thirty seconds, he gave up. He reached out, trying to pull me into a hug. I immediately took a step back, dodging his hands. “We should sleep in separate rooms,” I said evenly. “You must be exhausted from partying all night. I don’t want to disturb your rest.” 6 Mason looked completely lost for a second. Was I actively rejecting him? I had never done anything like this before. Frustrated and deeply annoyed, he slammed the bedroom door and stormed out, leaving me alone in the master suite. The moment the door clicked shut, I went straight back to sleep. Ever since I killed every last ounce of hope I had for Mason, the quality of my sleep had skyrocketed. At six o’clock the next evening, I received a surprise call from my old college mentor, Professor Davis. He had somehow found out I was relocating overseas. He insisted on taking me out to dinner to see me off. I tried to politely decline, not wanting to inconvenience him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He wanted to organize a farewell dinner with a bunch of my old classmates. Faced with his overwhelming generosity, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse. But what I entirely failed to anticipate was that Mason would be sitting at the restaurant table when I arrived. I lowered my eyes, a self-deprecating smile touching my lips. I had completely forgotten that Mason was also one of Professor Davis’s former students. And sitting right next to Mason, with a radiant, victorious smile on her face, was Stella. He actually brought her to my college reunion. They truly couldn’t stand to be apart for a single second. When Mason caught sight of me, he started aggressively gesturing with his eyes, signaling me to take the empty seat beside him. I looked right through him. They looked like the perfect, sickeningly sweet couple. It was better for me not to interrupt their little fantasy and make a nuisance of myself. Stella made eye contact with me from across the table, offering a fake, plastic smile. Then, she stood up, smoothed out her dress, and walked over to me, putting on a sickeningly sweet, innocent voice. “Harper, you don’t mind that I crashed your little reunion, do you? If my presence makes you unhappy, I can leave right now. I was just so bored at home, and Mason insisted on bringing me along so I wouldn’t be lonely.” Mason looked at Stella with profound admiration, clearly incredibly satisfied with her polite little speech. When he looked at me, his eyes were brimming with smug superiority. I smoothed down the edge of my skirt and stood up. “Professor Davis organized this dinner. Naturally, I don’t mind at all.” I sat back down and focused entirely on my food. During the appetizers, my phone started vibrating relentlessly in my purse. I pulled it out. It was a flood of texts from Mason. “I only brought her out of the goodness of my heart. There are absolutely no romantic feelings involved.” “If you’re upset, I apologize.” I scrolled down to the very last message. “When dinner is over, I’m driving you home. Wait for me.” I took a slow sip of my orange juice, typed out a reply, and hit send. “You should drive Stella. I took my own car. It’s not safe for a fragile girl like her to go home alone in the dark.” I switched my phone to silent, shoved it back into my bag, and devoted my full attention to the garlic butter crab and roasted chicken, completely tuning Mason out of existence. The dinner was a massive success. The table was full of laughter and nostalgic stories. Professor Davis’s face was flushed red from the wine. He stood up at the head of the table, raising his glass high in my direction. “Harper, you were always my most promising student. When you first asked me to be your advisor, you told me your ultimate dream was to work overseas. But after graduation, you lost your drive and chose to stay anchored here.” He paused, a deeply emotional smile spreading across his face. “But thankfully, you found your way back to the path! You’re finally moving! You are finally chasing your dream, and I couldn’t be more proud of you! Here’s to a brilliant, shining future!” Tears welled up in my eyes. I was so incredibly moved that he still remembered my ambitions and was cheering me on. Meanwhile, Mason was staring at me with a look of pure, devastated shock. He had absolutely no idea I was leaving the country.

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Catching up with my best friend over dinner, I slid into the curved leather booth right beside her, just like I always did. Halfway through our appetizers, her silver fork slipped from her fingers and clattered onto the hardwood floor. She immediately turned to me, clearly annoyed. “Jenna, you know I’m a southpaw. Why did you slide in on my left side? Our elbows are going to bump all night.” My hand froze halfway to the floor. Ruby was indeed left-handed. But we had a secret pact. She had sworn to me in private that whenever we shared a meal, she would strictly use her right hand. She once told me that if she ever ate with her left hand, it wouldn’t be the real her. 1 It started a couple of years ago. Ruby saw a post online claiming that true best friends always sit on the same side of a restaurant booth. She immediately declared that we would only sit side-by-side from then on. I laughed and called her an idiot. “You’re left-handed. If you sit next to me, we’ll be playing bumper cars with our elbows.” She thought about it for a second, her eyes lighting up. “Simple. Whenever I eat with you, I’ll just use my right hand!” At the time, I figured she wouldn’t last three days. But she actually pulled it off. For two whole years, every single time we ate together, she stubbornly gripped her silverware with her right hand. Whenever she absentmindedly reached for a glass or a piece of bread with her left, she would instantly snatch her hand back, sticking her tongue out at me like a kid caught stealing cookies. She even made a solemn declaration. “If there ever comes a day where I eat with my left hand around you, then that person definitely isn’t me!” Her expression had been so intensely serious when she said it. That was why the memory stuck with me. Yet right now, she was holding a fresh fork in her left hand, flawlessly twirling her pasta. I stared at that hand for a few heavy seconds before bending down to pick up the dropped fork. My fingers were trembling uncontrollably. Was the person sitting next to me not Ruby? Or was this just some twisted little prank she was playing on me? I sat back up, forcing a stiff smile. “Alright, alright, I’ll move to the other side. Don’t be mad.” I picked up my plate and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Ruby’s expression had already returned to normal. She continued eating, casually complaining about the toxic drama at her corporate office. Her tone, her facial expressions, the unique rhythm of her speech. Everything was exactly the way I knew it. I tried to convince myself I was just overworked. My paranoia was playing tricks on me. But the icy chill settling in my stomach refused to melt. A moment later, her boyfriend, Connor, returned from the restroom and naturally slid into the booth beside her. For the rest of the dinner, they chatted about entirely normal, domestic things. Ruby complained that his mother was pressuring them to get married. Connor just smiled, fed her a bite of his dessert, and promised they would tie the knot by the end of the year. Everything looked perfectly, painfully normal. Until Ruby absentmindedly took a massive bite of a stuffed mushroom from the appetizer platter. My heart violently seized. “Why are you eating the mushrooms?” Connor paused, looking at Ruby in genuine confusion. “Yeah babe, don’t you hate mushrooms?” Ruby blinked, looking slightly flustered before waving it off with a complaining tone. “Well, your mom puts mushroom broth in every roast she makes. I guess I just got used to it.” Connor smiled sheepishly, leaning in to kiss her cheek, completely oblivious to the world around them. But a cold sweat broke out across my skin. Connor always thought Ruby avoided mushrooms because she was a picky eater. But I was the only one who knew she was deathly allergic. Freshman year of college, a dining hall worker had accidentally ladled mushroom gravy onto her mashed potatoes. She didn’t notice and took two bites. I had to ride with her in the back of an ambulance while she went into anaphylactic shock. Since that night, she wouldn’t even touch a plate if a mushroom had been near it. You can mimic someone’s mannerisms. You can memorize their habits. But a biological physical reaction does not lie. I sat there for the rest of the dinner watching her closely. Ruby didn’t show a single sign of an allergic reaction. Her skin remained flawless. Her breathing was perfectly even. She even stole another mushroom off Connor’s plate. The last shred of warmth drained from my body. The woman sitting across from me was absolutely, without a shadow of a doubt, not Ruby. Which meant… where was the real Ruby? 2 I practically threw myself onto my bed as soon as I got home, staring blankly at the ceiling while my mind spun out of control. I desperately tried to map out the timeline. When did Ruby change? A week ago, she had been perfectly fine before leaving for a VIP music festival in London. The morning of her flight, she sent me a voice memo. “Jenna, I’m heading to the airport! Let me know if you want anything from the duty-free shops.” Once she landed, she texted me every single day. Videos from the concert floor, pictures of fish and chips, the glittering night view from her hotel window. I rolled over, opened our chat history, and scrolled up to the day of the concert. She had sent a video from the VIP pit. The camera was shaking wildly, drowned out by the screaming crowd. I could hear her screaming over the noise. “Jenna, this is incredible! I’m totally coming back next year!” I watched it over and over again. It was definitely her face in the video. The voice belonged to her. There was absolutely nothing suspicious about it. But the more flawless it looked, the heavier my dread became. It didn’t feel like she was sharing a fun moment with her best friend. It felt like someone was deliberately trying to prove she was still alive. If the Ruby sitting in the restaurant tonight was a fake. Then who was sending me these messages? And what about Connor? Did he know the woman sharing his bed was an imposter? I didn’t sleep a single wink that night. First thing the next morning, I drove straight to the local police precinct. “I need to report a missing person. My best friend is gone.” The officer at the front desk was a man in his thirties named Officer Collins. He told me to sit down and walk him through it slowly. I spilled everything. I told him how Ruby had come back from London acting like a completely different person. How she didn’t know the secret habits only the two of us shared. And how she had eaten an allergen that should have put her in a hospital, yet suffered zero reaction. Officer Collins listened, his expression growing increasingly skeptical. He typed a few things into his computer and sighed. “Ma’am, we just ran a check on Ruby Hensley. She is currently at her registered home address.” “Her phone is active. Her social media is updating normally. She posted a photo of her dinner just last night, correct?” I nodded frantically. “Under these circumstances, we cannot open a missing persons case.” Panic clawed at my throat. “But she isn’t Ruby! The woman in her apartment is a fake!” Officer Collins looked at me like I belonged in a psychiatric ward. “Ms. Sutton, you are claiming this woman is an imposter, yet all her social ties, her legal identification, and her digital footprint match perfectly.” “Do you have a single piece of hard evidence to prove she is fake?” I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat. I only had my intuition. And a secret dining pact between two best friends. None of that held up in a court of law. Officer Collins stood up, his tone shifting into a stern warning. “Ms. Sutton, if you continue to press this, I will have to escort you out for obstructing police business.” I was practically thrown out of the precinct. Standing on the concrete steps, the bright morning sun made my eyes burn with unshed tears. Three years ago, Ruby’s parents were killed in a horrific highway pileup. I was the only family she had left in this world. If she was still alive, she was waiting somewhere in the dark for me to save her. And if she was already… gone, then I was going to find her and bring her home. My phone buzzed with a new text. It was from Ruby’s account. A picture of a sad-looking sandwich with a caption. “The deli downstairs is getting worse every day!” Just her usual, casual complaining about her lunch break. I stared at the screen, my fingers turning numb. The fake Ruby had her phone. If the real Ruby had wanted to contact me, or warn me… A sudden memory hit me like a freight train. I sprinted to my car and sped all the way back to my apartment. Buried in the back of my closet was a clunky, outdated smartphone from our college days. Ruby was a brilliant coder. Back then, she had built a private, encrypted messaging app just for the two of us to gossip on. When we upgraded our phones after graduation, we slowly forgot the app existed. I tore through a shoebox, found the old phone, and frantically plugged it into a charger. The screen flickered to life. I found the greyed-out icon for her custom app. I tapped it. There was one unread message waiting on the screen. Received: Seven days ago, 2:37 PM. It was only three words. “Hide and seek.” 3 I stared at those three words, my pulse pounding violently against my ribs. Seven days ago. 2:37 PM. According to her itinerary, Ruby was supposed to be in the air, halfway to London at that exact time. Her phone should have been in airplane mode. Sending a message over cellular data would have been impossible. Unless… she never got on that plane. I grabbed my current phone and dialed the airline’s customer service hotline. “Hi, could you please check the passenger manifest for a flight to London last week? I need to know if a ‘Ruby Hensley’ actually boarded the plane.” The representative ran the search and delivered the crushing truth. “I can confirm that a passenger named Ruby Hensley checked in her luggage at the kiosk, but she never scanned her boarding pass at the gate.” A freezing shudder violently wracked my body. Ruby never went to London. Yet she had sent me a video from the VIP pit of the concert later that night. Which meant the real Ruby had already been taken before the flight even departed. And “Hide and seek” was the final breadcrumb she managed to drop for me. I stared at the screen, desperately trying to decode the hidden meaning. Hide and seek. It was a game we had played constantly since we were little kids. Back in her childhood backyard, she would always hide behind the giant ceramic water barrel near the flowerbeds, and I would always find her in seconds. But that was too obvious. If she was just referring to an address, she wouldn’t have used a riddle. So what did it mean? I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing myself to mentally catalog every place we had ever been together. The old neighborhood from our childhood had been bulldozed for condos. The diner near our high school was shut down. The arcade we used to skip college classes for was now a strip mall. Eliminating those, I started thinking of places on the outskirts of the city that fit the theme of hiding. Abandoned factories, half-built construction sites, overgrown state parks… Everything felt plausible, yet entirely wrong. I opened the map on my phone, aimlessly zooming in and out of the county borders. And then my eyes snagged on the name of a deeply remote township. High Ash Springs. H, A, S. The exact same initials as “Hide And Seek.” In that split second, every instinct in my body screamed that Ruby was out there. I quickly zoomed in on the map. High Ash Springs was located in the eastern foothills. It was a completely isolated, impoverished mountain community wedged between two jagged peaks, lacking even a properly paved access road. It was eerily familiar. And its isolated geography made it the perfect place to hide a body. I looked up from the glowing screen. I couldn’t be one hundred percent certain this was what her message meant. But even if there was a one-in-a-million chance, I had to take it. Terrified of alerting the imposter, I opened our regular chat and sent a casual text to “Ruby.” “Work just dumped a massive out-of-town project on my lap. Gotta leave for a few days. Let’s grab drinks when I get back!” She replied instantly. “Ugh, the worst! Have a safe trip!” The bubbly, sweet tone was sickeningly accurate. I packed a heavy duffel bag, threw in two portable power banks and a heavy-duty flashlight, and drove my car onto the interstate. High Ash Springs was even more desolate than I had imagined. After leaving the highway, the road degraded from asphalt, to cracked concrete, to nothing but loose gravel and packed yellow dirt. After driving for almost four brutal hours, my headlights finally illuminated the weathered stone sign marking the town limits. The moment I saw it, a cold sweat drenched the back of my shirt. Because I had been here before. Two years ago, Ruby, Connor, and I took a weekend road trip. Our GPS supposedly glitched, and we ended up hopelessly lost in this exact town. Ruby had been sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window at the decaying cabins. “This place would be perfect for a horror movie,” she had joked. If Ruby was truly trapped out here against her will. Then Connor was absolutely involved. Because on that road trip two years ago, Connor was the one behind the wheel. He was the one who set the GPS. And he was the one who “accidentally” took the wrong exit into this forgotten valley. From the very beginning, he was the only one who knew this place existed. 4 I slumped back against the driver’s seat, completely paralyzed by the realization. Connor and Ruby had been dating for three years. He treated her like royalty. If she worked a late shift, he would sit in his car outside her office until midnight just to walk her out. If it rained, he was standing at the subway exit with an umbrella. When she had horrible cramps, a mug of hot ginger tea was always waiting on her nightstand. They had already booked their wedding venue for December. Their engagement photoshoot was scheduled for next month. Why would he do this? And who was the fake Ruby living in her apartment? I didn’t have time to fall down that rabbit hole. Finding Ruby was the only thing that mattered. I forced myself out of the car, locking the doors behind me. A few elderly locals were sitting on their porches in the fading afternoon light. They watched me approach with openly hostile, guarded eyes. I walked up to each of them, asking if they had seen a strange man and woman pass through town a week ago. But their thick, isolated accents were nearly impossible to decipher. Even with wild hand gestures, I got absolutely nowhere. Just as the sun began to dip behind the tree line, a rugged, middle-aged man finally approached me. “You lookin’ for a guy traveling with a really pretty girl?” My head snapped up. “Yes! You saw them?” I frantically pulled out my phone, showing him a photo of Ruby and Connor. The man squinted at the screen. He didn’t say a word, just casually rubbed his thumb and index finger together. I understood immediately. I dumped out my wallet, shoving all the emergency cash I had on me into his calloused palm. About four hundred dollars. He weighed the cash in his hand, but his greedy eyes dropped to my wrist. I was wearing a solid gold Cartier bracelet. It was a birthday gift from my mother, and I had never taken it off. Without a second of hesitation, I unclasped the gold and pressed it into his hand. The man finally smiled, satisfied. He pointed a dirty finger toward the towering peaks. “They went up the mountain.” According to the local, a torrential downpour had just passed through seven days ago when an expensive sedan rolled into town. “Car was too low to the ground for these dirt roads. Got stuck in the mud on a steep incline.” “I helped the guy push his car out. He threw me a hundred bucks for the trouble.” “There was a woman sitting in the passenger seat…” He paused, scratching his jaw. “Didn’t get a good look at her face. But the hair color and the fancy clothes matched your picture.” My heart plummeted into my stomach. “Which way did they go?” “Up that one.” The man jutted his chin toward the eastern ridge. “Cross over that peak and you hit the neighboring county line. Nothin’ up there but an abandoned logging camp. Trail’s washed out, nobody ever goes up there.” “Did you see them come back down?” The man shook his head. “Nope. Ain’t no cell service up there either. Don’t know why any city folks would wander up there.” I stood completely still, staring at the pitch-black silhouette of the eastern mountain. My heart hammered wildly against my ribs. 5 The sky had gone completely dark. Trying to navigate an unfamiliar mountain trail at night was a death sentence. I retreated to my car, reclined the driver’s seat, and forced myself to wait out the night. I didn’t sleep. I couldn’t. Ruby’s face played on an endless loop behind my eyelids. When we were kids, she used to wear her hair in two messy pigtails, her crooked canine teeth showing whenever she laughed. In middle school, she chopped her hair into a pixie cut and cried for three days when a substitute teacher mistook her for a boy. In college, she got her heart broken by a frat boy. I walked thirty laps around the track with her while she sobbed, swearing she would never trust a man again. Then she met Connor, and she believed in love again. She told me Connor was different. Connor genuinely cared for her soul. I buried my face in my arms, my tears soaking silently into my jacket sleeves. Connor, what the hell did you do to her? The second the sky began to turn a bruised purple, I was awake. I didn’t go back into the village. I drove straight to the nearest county sheriff’s station. “I need to report an emergency.” “My best friend and I were hiking the eastern ridge yesterday and we got separated. She never came down the mountain.” I lied. It was the only way to guarantee they would send a search party into the woods. Just as I hoped, the mention of a missing hiker in a dangerous, unmapped forest triggered an immediate response. Within thirty minutes, they had assembled six deputies and two search-and-rescue dogs. The search team was led by a grizzled veteran named Officer Collins, his skin deeply tanned from decades in the sun. The dogs were pure professionals. The second we hit the tree line, they started barking wildly, dragging their handlers deep into the dense underbrush. The deeper we ventured into the suffocating woods, the heavier my dread became. If Ruby was actually out here, was she even still alive? Suddenly, both dogs stopped dead in their tracks, letting out a synchronized, ferocious howl before sprinting forward. I was stumbling over exposed roots, struggling to keep up. By the time I ripped through the final wall of thorny bushes and spilled into a small clearing, I heard one of the deputies yell. “We’ve got a body!” … Lying in the center of the muddy clearing was a corpse that had been partially unearthed by wild scavengers. It barely looked human anymore. The decomposition was brutal. The skin was mottled black and purple, bloated and grotesquely swollen from the humidity. Her facial features were entirely erased. Maggots writhed inside the empty eye sockets and along the jawline. The air was thick with the suffocating, putrid stench of rotting meat. But I knew it was my Ruby. She was wearing the custom, rhinestone-studded t-shirt I had designed for us to wear to the London concert. And wrapped around her decaying wrist was a braided silk bracelet I had brought back for her from a temple in Kyoto. Three years ago, when I tied it around her wrist, I had told her: “This is for protection. You’re going to live a long, beautiful life.” But my Ruby was only twenty-eight. She loved feeling beautiful. She spent an hour and a half on her makeup every single morning. She would twirl in front of her full-length mirror three times before stepping out the door. And now she was lying in the filthy dirt, being consumed by insects. I collapsed to my knees in the mud, my body violently convulsing with sobs. Officer Collins walked over, placing a heavy, sympathetic hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get you back to the precinct.” I followed him down the mountain in a completely dissociative haze. Ruby’s remains were bagged and transported to the county morgue. He told me they needed to perform an autopsy to determine the cause of death. I don’t remember how I survived the rest of that day. I only remember Officer Collins eventually leading me into a private interrogation room. “We found something inside the victim’s body. Something she left behind for you.” I stared at him blankly. Inside her body? Officer Collins plugged a tiny, blood-stained microchip into a forensic laptop on the table. A sharp burst of static filled the sterile room. First came the frantic rustling of leaves, like someone crawling desperately through thick brush to hide. Then came the sound of ragged, terrified breathing. And then, I heard Ruby’s voice. “Jenna… if you’re hearing this recording, it means I’ve already been murdered.” “I have a terrifying secret to tell you.” 6 The recording continued. Ruby’s voice was broken and breathless, shaking with pure adrenaline. She was running. “Jenna… if there ever comes a day… where you realize someone else has taken my place… you have to be careful…” A burst of heavy static. “Connor. He…” A sudden, sickening thud echoed through the speakers, like someone tripping and smashing into the dirt. Immediately following it was the terrifying crunch of heavy boots closing in fast. Someone was hunting her. “Ruby!” I screamed her name out loud in the sterile room, as if she could somehow hear me across time. In the recording, Ruby didn’t speak another word. There was only the sound of her gasping for air, thorns tearing at her clothes, and the heavy boots getting closer and closer. Then came a violent, scraping noise, like a piece of plastic being crushed and discarded into the grass. Her final words were a barely audible whisper, fragile as glass. “Jenna, you know my most precious thing… you know what it is!” The recording abruptly cut out. The silence in the room was deafening. Officer Collins hit the spacebar on his keyboard, turning to look at me. “We extracted this microchip from the victim’s stomach contents. It appears to be the core memory board of a digital voice recorder.” “Right before she died… she smashed the plastic casing of the recorder and swallowed the chip raw.” I bit down on my lower lip so hard my mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. She swallowed it. She knew she was going to die. She knew there was no escape. So she swallowed the evidence. Because she knew that as long as her body wasn’t entirely destroyed, as long as someone eventually found her, her final words wouldn’t be erased. She traded her life to deliver this message to me. “Ms. Sutton,” Officer Collins said softly, sliding a paper cup of water across the table. “Are you alright?” I reached for the cup. My hands were shaking so violently I spilled half the water onto the metal table. “Do you know what she meant by her ‘most precious thing’?” he asked. I didn’t answer. I was desperately trying to figure it out. This was her second clue. “Hide and seek” was the first. “My most precious thing” was the second. I closed my eyes, digging through decades of memories. What did Ruby value above everything else? She used to joke about it all the time. She always said her most precious possession was me—the best friend who had stood by her side for twenty-eight years. But if the answer was that simple, she wouldn’t have used her dying breath to encrypt it. It had to be something tangible. Something hidden. My eyes snapped open. I pushed my chair back violently. “Officer Collins, I need to go somewhere right now.” “Where?” “The cemetery. Where her parents are buried.”

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At dinner, my 5-year-old son ate the last fried chicken piece—the one my stepdaughter always claimed. My wife immediately removed me from the family group chat for the 28th time, her voice icy: “Don’t even ask to rejoin until you teach your son to respect his sister.” What stung more was seeing her ex-husband’s sarcastic Instagram story minutes later: “Five years married, still treated like a stray dog. Guess who?” My boy was crying hysterically, fingers down his throat, trying to gag up the piece to give it back. In that moment, I snapped awake. I set my fork down, held my trembling son, and said with certainty, “If there’s no room for us here, we’re leaving.” Weeks earlier, he’d asked if I could divorce Mommy. When I asked why, he said in his small voice, “I don’t think Mommy loves us. She only loves Harper and Harper’s dad.” He went on, recalling how my wife used her Christmas bonus for them instead of his piano lessons, and gave away my birthday watch after Harper threw a fit. “She always kicks you out of the chat. You always have to beg to come back.” Then he broke me: “If you’re staying just for me, I’d rather not be your kid. I just want you happy and free.” Tears fell before he finished. This time, I was truly done. I was walking away. 1 Pamela froze for two seconds, her fork hovering in the air. “What did you just say?” I held my son tight against my chest. My voice was dangerously quiet. “I said, I want a divorce.” My ten-year-old stepdaughter, Harper, lit up. She dropped her fork onto her plate with a loud clatter. “Mom, do it! Let him leave! Then you and Dad can finally get back together.” Pamela shot her a warning glare. “Eat your dinner.” Harper rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t hide her excited smirk. She muttered under her breath, “It’s true anyway. Once the loser leaves, my real dad can come home.” The loser. I had been married to Pamela for five years. Not once had Harper ever called me “Dad.” She barely even called me by my name. She usually just yelled “Hey” or called me “the loser.” And Pamela never corrected her. She acted completely deaf to it. Pamela leaned back in her dining chair, studying me. Her tone softened into something patronizing. “Owen, what kind of tantrum are you throwing now? Is this seriously just because I kicked you out of the group chat?” I didn’t answer. She let out a heavy sigh, looking at me like I was an unreasonable toddler. “Look at the situation and tell me who is in the wrong here.” Finn shrank against my chest, his little fists gripping my shirt tightly. Pamela pointed at him. “He knows Harper loves the fried chicken drumsticks, but he still fought her for it. As a father, you should be teaching him to yield to his older sister, not coddling him.” “All I did was tell you to discipline him, and now you are threatening me with a divorce?” I stared at the single, half-eaten drumstick sitting on Finn’s plate, and my heart turned to lead. Harper liked fried chicken, which meant she was entitled to the entire bucket. Just a few minutes ago, there was exactly one piece left. Harper had pushed her plate away and loudly announced she was stuffed. Only then did Finn dare to reach for it. He had barely taken a single bite before Harper snatched her fork back up and screamed, “I wanted to eat that! Why are you stealing my food?!” Pamela had been scrolling through her phone. She glanced up, didn’t ask a single question, and instantly removed me from the family chat. It was the twenty-eighth time. Seeing my silence, Pamela assumed she had won the argument. Her tone grew sharper. “Harper isn’t your biological daughter, which means you should be going out of your way to treat her better. But what do you do? You encourage Finn to steal food right off her plate.” “If you cared about Harper even half as much as you care about Finn, I wouldn’t have had to do that tonight.” “I am just trying to remind you to be fair. Stop playing favorites.” Playing favorites? My mind flashed back to when we first got married. Harper was five. She suffered from terrible night terrors, waking up screaming and crying for her real dad. I was the one who paced the living room floor, holding her against my shoulder, rocking her back to sleep night after night. When Finn was born, I was terrified Harper would feel left out, so I spoiled her even more. When she spiked a 103-degree fever in the middle of the night and Pamela was out of town on a business trip, her biological father, Trent, refused to answer his phone. I was the one who held her in the emergency room waiting area until dawn. Finn was barely a year old at the time. I had to dump him at a neighbor’s house. When I picked him up the next morning, he had cried so hard he lost his voice. Yet, in their eyes, I was just a biased, toxic stepdad. Pamela looked at me, her voice softening just a fraction. “Alright, enough drama.” “Make Finn apologize to Harper. Have him promise he won’t do it again. I’ll monitor his behavior for a few days, and if he acts right, I’ll add you back to the chat.” I stared into her eyes. These were the same deep, beautiful eyes that made me fall for her on our very first blind date. When I found out she was a divorced mother of one, my own father had grabbed my arm and begged me to walk away. “Owen, what are you doing? She has a kid, and her ex-husband is still hovering around. If you marry her, you’ll just be a punching bag for all their baggage.” I refused to listen. I naively believed that if I was just kind enough, patient enough, and loved them hard enough, I could thaw her heart and become a real part of this family. But five years had passed. I was still just an outsider who could be deleted from the family group chat at the drop of a hat. “Pamela, in your heart, do you even consider me family?” She blinked, clearly caught off guard. I kept going. “If I am your family, why is there no space for me in a stupid text thread?” Her brow furrowed, a flash of genuine confusion crossing her face. “Everything has been perfectly fine. Whenever you fix your attitude, I always invite you back in, don’t I?” Perfectly fine? Yes, perfectly fine because every single time, I swallowed my pride and apologized. I did it because I loved her. I did it because I desperately wanted to belong. And later, I did it because Finn was too young, and I wanted him to grow up in a complete home. But now, I was exhausted down to my bones. “Twenty-eight times. Every time I don’t perfectly cater to Harper’s mood, or whenever I upset your ex-husband, you kick me out without asking a single question.” “But Trent divorced you six years ago, and he has never been kicked out of that chat.” “Pamela, who is actually your husband?” 2 The color drained from her face. “Are you really going to start being insanely jealous over nothing again? Trent is Harper’s biological father. He stays in the chat so we can easily communicate about our daughter.” Communicate? I let out a bitter, hollow laugh. My eyes burned. “And what about me? Every time you kick me out, I have to completely humiliate myself. I have to suck up to Trent, and I have to beg Harper for forgiveness, just so you’ll bestow the honor of adding me back.” “Pamela, have you ever, for a single second, considered how that makes me feel?” She fell silent. Suddenly, Finn wriggled out of my arms and sprinted to the kitchen trash can. “Mommy, don’t be mad at Daddy! It’s my fault! I’ll give the chicken back to Harper…” As he spoke, he shoved his fingers deep into his mouth, gagging violently over the plastic bin. I lunged forward and grabbed his hands. “Finn! Finn, stop! Do not do that, it’s not your fault!” He collapsed against my chest, sobbing so hard he couldn’t catch his breath, his little face flushed crimson. Harper pointed at him from the dining table and burst out laughing. “Mom, look! I told you he was a manipulative little brat. The loser taught him how to play the victim perfectly.” Pamela didn’t even stand up. She just sat there, her eyebrows pulled together in annoyance. “Look at this. This is because you baby him. He’s five years old and he already knows how to emotionally blackmail adults.” As a mother, she didn’t ask if Finn was choking. She didn’t ask if he was okay. I suddenly remembered last winter. Harper got into a scuffle on the playground and scraped her knee. Pamela got the call at work, burst into tears, abandoned a major client meeting, and drove like a maniac to the school just to carry Harper to urgent care. A month later, Harper purposely tripped Finn in our living room. His forehead slammed into the corner of the glass coffee table. Blood poured down his face, soaking his shirt. Pamela barely glanced up from her laptop. “He’s fine. Kids bump into things all the time.” I was the one who drove a screaming, bleeding Finn to the hospital alone. He needed four stitches. He cried the entire time. When we got home, Pamela didn’t ask how he was. She just accused me of being dramatic and seeking attention. Thinking about that day, I picked Finn up and stood tall. Pamela assumed I was finally backing down. She leaned back in her chair. “Take him to his room and calm him down. When he stops screaming, come back out, clear the table, load the dishwasher, and help Harper with her math homework.” I didn’t say a single word. I just carried Finn to his bedroom. As I shut the door behind us, I heard Harper’s gloating voice echo through the hall. “Mom, he is totally faking it. He’s just waiting for you to go in there and beg him. My dad told me Owen is a manipulative snake.” Pamela sounded irritated. “Let him throw his little fit. Ignore him and he’ll snap out of it.” A few minutes later, I heard the familiar chime of a FaceTime call connecting in the living room. Harper had called her grandparents. She immediately started whining. “Grandma! The loser is acting crazy again.” “His bratty kid stole my food, and when Mom yelled at him, he threw a massive tantrum and locked himself in the bedroom. He won’t even clean the kitchen! He said he wants a divorce.” My father-in-law scoffed loudly through the phone speaker. “That guy is getting more pathetic by the day.” Then, Trent’s voice echoed from the screen. He must have been at their house. “Come on, guys, don’t be too hard on Owen. I’m sure he has his own insecurities. I just feel so terrible for my little Harper…” My mother-in-law immediately chimed in. “What insecurities? The man can’t even cook a decent meal. Harper is our precious angel. She is a growing girl. Why should she have to walk on eggshells just to eat a piece of chicken in her own house?” “He’s completely biased. He only cares about his own blood.” “Things were so much better when you were still around, Trent…” Harper sounded incredibly smug. “Exactly, Grandma! That loser treats me like garbage. He is nothing like my real dad. My dad actually loves me.” “Mom, when are you going to divorce him? Dad is literally waiting to marry you again.” Trent chuckled softly. “Harper, sweetie, don’t say that. Your mom is a married woman.” “He’s not a real husband! I’ll never accept him!” Pamela murmured something low. I couldn’t make out the words. I sat on the edge of the bed, holding Finn against my chest, feeling an absolute, suffocating wasteland inside my soul. Five years. I had bled myself dry trying to take care of every single person in this family. When Pamela’s mother threw out her back, I spent hours every day making homemade bone broth and riding the subway across the city just to deliver it to her while it was hot. When her father had a heart attack and was hospitalized, Pamela was “too stressed” to deal with it. I took all my vacation days and slept in a hard plastic chair beside his hospital bed for a week, so exhausted I was hallucinating. And in return? I didn’t get a single word of gratitude. Meanwhile, Trent had been divorced from Pamela for six years, and her parents still lovingly treated him like a son. I closed my eyes, refusing to listen to the FaceTime call anymore. Finn gently tugged at my collar. “Daddy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have eaten the chicken…” I looked down at his terrified, tear-streaked face, and my heart physically ached. “Finn, Daddy is going to take you away from here. Is that okay?” He blinked his swollen eyes. “To where?” “To a place where you can eat all the fried chicken you want, and nobody will ever yell at you.” He thought about it for a second, then whispered, “Is Mommy coming?” “Do you want Mommy to come?” He shook his head violently and buried his face in my neck. “Mommy only loves Harper. She doesn’t like me at all.” I hugged him fiercely. “Okay. Then Mommy isn’t coming. It’s just going to be you and me.” 3 That night, Pamela didn’t come into the master bedroom. It was her standard playbook. She was giving me the silent treatment, waiting for me to crack and apologize. But she didn’t realize that after twenty-eight times, I was completely done punishing myself and my son for her ego. The next morning, my alarm went off at 6:00 AM sharp. Normally, I would jump out of bed, cook a full breakfast, iron Pamela’s blouse and Harper’s uniform, and then gently wake them up. I would serve them, clean up their dishes, and then drive Harper to school. Today, I reached over, turned off the alarm, pulled the blanket over Finn, and went back to sleep. When I woke up again, I checked my phone. It was 8:40 AM. The apartment was dead silent. A few minutes later, panicked, heavy footsteps pounded down the hallway. The bedroom door flew open. Pamela stood there, her hair a tangled mess, frantically trying to zip up her pencil skirt. “Why didn’t you wake us up?!” Harper poked her head around Pamela’s hip, her face twisted in fury. “This is all your fault! I’m going to be late for homeroom and my teacher is going to scream at me!” Pamela stormed into the room, her face dark with anger. “You didn’t even make breakfast? Do you have any idea what time it is?” I didn’t get out of bed. I just gently patted Finn’s back as he stirred from the shouting. Ignored, Pamela’s scowl deepened. “Are you seriously still throwing a fit? Over a piece of chicken? Really?” “Fine! I’ll add you back to the chat, okay? Is that what you want?” She snatched her phone from her pocket, tapped the screen a few times, and shoved it in my face. “There. Happy now? Get up and make us something to eat!” I didn’t look at her. I picked up my own phone from the nightstand, opened the family chat, and pressed “Leave Group.” Then, I went to her contact and hit “Block.” Pamela’s face instantly dropped. Harper kept whining loudly. “Mom, I am starving! We have to go right now!” Pamela glared at me, turned on her heel, and slammed the bedroom door so hard the walls shook. A few minutes later, I heard the chaotic clatter of pots and pans in the kitchen, followed by Harper complaining about how disgusting the food tasted. A moment later, Pamela shoved the bedroom door open again. “Harper has a parent-teacher showcase at school today. I just got an email from my boss, there’s a crisis at the office and I have to go in. You need to go to her school.” “No,” I replied flatly. “Call her real dad. I have plans today.” Her expression turned venomous. “Plans? What kind of plans could you possibly have?” I threw off the covers and started digging through the dresser for Finn’s clothes. “I have an appointment with a divorce lawyer.” She froze. The anger melted into genuine shock. “Owen, have you lost your mind? You are seriously dragging us toward a divorce over a minor argument?” I completely ignored her and focused on getting Finn dressed. Harper yelled from the front door. Pamela stared at me for three long seconds. “You want to play hardball? Fine. Let’s see how long you can keep this pathetic act up.” She spun around and dragged Harper out the door. I made Finn a quiet breakfast, called into work to use a personal day, and took him straight to a lawyer friend’s office downtown. While Finn played with a box of Lego in the lobby, I sat in the office and had my friend draft an airtight divorce agreement. Just as we walked out of the law firm into the afternoon sun, my phone buzzed. It was Pamela. I had unblocked her just in case of emergencies. I answered, and her voice came through shrill and frantic. “Harper got hurt at school! You need to get to the hospital right now!” “What happened?” “The parent showcase! Because no one was there, she was running around the bleachers by herself, fell, and severely injured her leg! They took her to the ER. I am locked in a conference room and cannot leave. Get over there now!” I didn’t miss a beat. “Tell Trent to go. I am not her father.” Dead silence on the other end of the line. Then, her voice exploded, practically shattering the speaker. “Owen! What the hell is wrong with you?! If you had just gone to the school like I told you to, she never would have fallen! This is your fault, and you won’t even go check on her?!” Standing under the bright sunlight, a cold, empty laugh escaped my throat. “Pamela, you spent five years telling me I don’t care enough about her. Since I am already convicted of the crime, I figured I might as well show you what not caring actually looks like.” I hung up the phone. I looked down at my son. “Finn, you want to go to the amusement park?”

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Five years ago, Logan’s tech startup went bankrupt, leaving him drowning in a mountain of debt. At the time, I was pregnant with his child. But I was terrified that if I stayed with him, we would end up starving on the streets. So, without a single word, I packed my bags and ran away, taking our unborn baby with me. The next time I heard his name, it was five years later. Word on the street was that he had become the ruthless, undisputed head of the multi-billion-dollar Sinclair family empire. But there was a catch—a horrific car accident had allegedly left him permanently sterile. As fate would have it, right around the exact same time, my son was diagnosed with a severe illness, and I desperately needed a massive amount of money to save his life. I bit my lip, swallowed my pride, and grabbed my little boy’s hand. “Come on, sweetie. Mommy is going to take you to see your daddy.” 1 Lying in his hospital bed, little Leo rolled his eyes at me with zero hesitation. “Mom, are you losing it? Didn’t you say my dad died a long time ago?” I let out an awkward, dry laugh. “Oh, well, he was really, really sick back then. I thought he was going to die. But, surprise! The doctors fixed him.” Leo’s eyes suddenly lit up like fireworks. “Does that mean I can get fixed by the doctors and go home, just like Daddy?” I nodded firmly. “Of course you can!” Kids are so easy to trick. A few simple words, and he believed me completely. Walking out of his hospital room, I reopened the browser on my phone. The screen displayed a massive headline from a major financial news outlet, reporting that the CEO of Sinclair Enterprises was left infertile following a catastrophic car crash. At first, I honestly thought it was just some guy who happened to share the same name. But when my thumb slipped and I clicked the article, my heart dropped. The man in the high-resolution photo didn’t just share Logan’s name—he had Logan’s exact face. There are no coincidences that massive in this world. There was only one logical explanation: Logan had lied to me, too. He was never the broke, struggling kid from the wrong side of the tracks that I thought he was. He was the heir to an empire. Standing in that sterile hospital corridor, I didn’t know whether to scream or cry. But at the very least, for Leo’s sake, this was a godsend. I immediately booked two first-class plane tickets to New York City for the next morning. When my mom arrived at the hospital to drop off dinner, I was already throwing clothes into a suitcase. “Another business trip? Are you trying to dump the kid on me again?” she grumbled, setting the Tupperware on the table. “I told you exactly what was going to happen five years ago. I told you not to have this baby, but you refused to listen. And now that he’s here, you constantly dump him on me. I am supposed to be enjoying my retirement, but instead, I’m trapped in this house playing nanny.” I glanced nervously at the bed. Leo was awake, watching us. I lowered my voice to a harsh whisper. “Mom, please. Can you stop saying that in front of him? He’s little, but he understands. It hurts his feelings.” “Oh, whatever. You did it, but I’m not allowed to talk about it…” “Mom. If you have nothing else to do, go give Leo a hug. Tomorrow morning, I am taking him to New York.” I cut her off sharply. She froze. Then, she grabbed my arm and dragged me out into the hallway. “Did you scrape together enough for the surgery?” she demanded, her voice dropping. “No, wait… where did you get that kind of money? You’ve been raising a kid by yourself for five years. You don’t have a dime to spare.” I kept my eyes on the floor. I had zero intention of telling my mother the truth right now. “Just drop it, Mom. Honestly, I have no idea when we’ll be back.” “You can finally go enjoy your peaceful retirement. Leo and I won’t be dragging you down anymore.” My mom’s face instantly hardened into a furious scowl. “You little brat. You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? You know perfectly well I just talk tough, but I love that kid.” She waved me off dismissively. “Forget it. I’m not wasting my breath on you. I’m going to go see my grandson.” 2 Early the next morning, my mom squeezed Leo so tight she could barely breathe, sobbing hysterically in the hospital lobby. “Leo, my sweet boy, Grandma is going to miss you so much.” “Once the doctors fix you up, you hurry right back to Grandma, okay?” See? People are always like this. They complain when you’re around, but the second you actually try to leave, they act like the world is ending. Just before we stepped into the Uber heading to the airport, my mom shoved a debit card into my coat pocket. “I called around and borrowed some cash. It’s not a fortune, but it’ll help in an emergency. You know the pin. Take good care of my boy.” I waved from the window as the car pulled away, but my stomach was in knots. If my mom knew my actual plan was to hand Leo over to Logan and walk away, she would literally murder me. My own heart felt like it was being run through a meat grinder. But to guarantee Leo got access to the absolute best medical care in the world, this was a trip I had to take. Sitting on the plane, I leaned close to Leo and started laying down the ground rules. “Listen to me, Leo. From now on, whenever there are other people around, you have to call me ‘Auntie.’ Do you understand?” “Why?” Leo tilted his little head, his face entirely scrunched up in confusion. I took a deep breath and patiently fed him a lie. “Think about it. When your dad was super sick, I didn’t stay and take care of him. He is probably incredibly mad at me. If he finds out I came back, who knows how he might try to punish me?” Leo blinked his big eyes, only half understanding. “Mom… are you not going to stay with me at Daddy’s house?” Guilt slammed into me so hard I couldn’t even look him in the eye. “Once the doctors make you all better, Mommy will come right back and pick you up.” “You promise you aren’t tricking me?” “I would never.” “Pinky promise.” “Okay. Pinky promise.” 3 I didn’t go straight to Logan. Instead, I used every resource I could find to track down Logan’s mother, Melora Sinclair. We met at a tiny, obscure coffee shop in Brooklyn that completely clashed with her custom Chanel suit. She kept her oversized designer sunglasses on, sitting rigidly in the cheap wooden booth. “You are claiming you have a child? And that this child belongs to my son?” She spoke first, her sharp gaze slowly dragging from my face down to Leo, who was sitting quietly beside me. The very next second, her entire demeanor shattered. “Oh my dear Lord… is this a carbon copy of Logan?” She practically lunged across the table, grabbing Leo’s small hands, examining his face with frantic excitement. “This… this is exactly what Logan looked like as a little boy! Exactly!” Melora wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest. From the day I found out I was pregnant to the day I gave birth, Logan was entirely absent. But regardless of the angle, Leo was the spitting image of his father. I slid a thick manila folder across the table. It contained Leo’s complete medical history, his birth certificate, and all his identity documents. “Leo was diagnosed with a severe congenital heart defect a year ago. He requires immediate, highly specialized surgery.” “If your family has any doubts whatsoever, I fully support a DNA test.” Melora’s face turned deadly serious. She stared at me intensely. “And you are the boy’s…” “I have no relation to the child. I am simply acting on behalf of someone else.” “If the Sinclair family is willing to claim this boy, I will disappear immediately.” Melora stood up, stepped outside the coffee shop, and made a rapid phone call. Ten minutes later, a sleek black SUV pulled up, and she escorted us to the most elite private hospital in Manhattan. Shortly after we arrived, a man in a sharp suit delivered a sealed plastic bag containing a single strand of dark hair. The moment the rapid DNA results were handed to her, Melora’s eyes lit up like the Fourth of July. While the pediatric specialists whisked Leo away for a preliminary workup, Melora opened her designer handbag, pulled out a massive stack of crisp hundred-dollar bills, and slid them across the waiting room table. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “The Sinclair family will ensure this boy has everything he could ever need.” I politely pushed the money back. I had fully intended to raise this boy myself. But clearly, fate had other, much crueler plans for us. As I turned to walk away, Leo suddenly ran out of the examination room and grabbed the hem of my coat. “Auntie… you promise you aren’t tricking me, right?” His big eyes were bloodshot and brimming with tears. He hadn’t forgotten our deal on the plane. I crouched down and gently cupped his cheek. Because of his illness over the last year, he looked so much smaller and more fragile than other boys his age. I was a terrible mother. I had failed him. I fought back the tears burning the back of my throat and forced a smile. “Did you forget? We pinky promised.” 4 I didn’t leave the hospital until I physically saw the Sinclair family’s private security detail escort Leo into the ultra-luxury VIP pediatric suite. When I finally got back to my cheap hotel room, my chest felt like a hollow, echoing cavern. It felt like someone had reached in and violently ripped out the most important piece of my soul. I collapsed onto the stiff mattress and stared blankly at the popcorn ceiling. I have no idea how much time passed. I was violently jolted awake by my cell phone screaming on the nightstand. It was an unknown New York number. I hesitated for a second, then pressed answer. “Where are you?” A low, vibrating male voice filled the speaker. “Who is this?” I asked on pure instinct. It took me a solid five seconds to realize why the voice sent shivers down my spine. How many nights had we spent tangled in the sheets, sweating and breathless, while he whispered exactly how much he loved me right into my ear? “You know exactly who this is. Send me your location.” It wasn’t a request. It was an absolute command. My fingers clamped around the phone in terror. “I’m sorry, you have the wrong number.” I panicked, hung up the phone, and threw it across the bed. My heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. After five entire years of absolute radio silence, why the hell was Logan calling me? And how on earth did he get my number? Before I flew to New York, I had done my research. Logan was currently unmarried. He only had one long-term girlfriend who had been by his side for a few years. If the media reports about his accident were true, Leo was going to be the only heir to the Sinclair empire. That was the exact reason I was so dead-set on handing Leo over to them. Growing up in the Sinclair mansion was infinitely better than growing up in a tiny apartment with me. But my situation was different. I was the ex-girlfriend who abandoned him during the absolute darkest, poorest year of his life. I didn’t have the guts to ever cross paths with him again. The next morning, I planned to sneak into the hospital, get one last glimpse of Leo from a distance, and then head straight to JFK to fly home. As I carefully crept down the VIP corridor toward his suite, I peered through the glass. Logan was sitting by the bed, wearing a razor-sharp, custom-tailored suit. He was completely focused on peeling an apple with a small knife. He didn’t look like he had aged a day, but his aura was completely different. The raw, imposing wealth radiating from him was suffocating. Looking back, it was almost comical that I genuinely believed he was just some broke kid struggling to make rent. Sitting up in the hospital bed, Leo was clearly impatient. Before Logan even finished peeling the apple, Leo leaned forward and took a massive bite right out of his hand. The two of them locked eyes and broke into identical, brilliant smiles. Watching them, my vision blurred with hot tears. Maybe… maybe this really was the absolute best ending for everyone. I looked down and aggressively wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. But right at that exact second, Logan’s head snapped up. His eyes locked onto the small window in the door, staring directly at the spot where I was standing. My heart completely stopped. I violently threw myself backward, flattening my spine against the wall. I held my breath, praying to God I moved fast enough. A few seconds later, the bright sound of Leo’s laughter echoed from inside the room again. 5 It was blatantly obvious that Logan adored the boy. That was all I needed to know. I could finally breathe. I pulled out my phone and pulled up the airline app, looking for the earliest flight back to Chicago. I desperately needed to keep my brain occupied. If I stopped moving, the crushing reality of what I had just done would drown me. But as I stared at the screen, walking down the crowded hospital corridor, the words were just a blurry mess. Before I realized what was happening, I slammed hard into someone walking the opposite way. “Oh! Miss, are you alright?” A soft, polite voice asked. I snapped my head up and froze. If my memory of the tabloid articles was correct, the woman standing right in front of me was Chloe, Logan’s long-term girlfriend. I panicked and waved my hands frantically. “I’m fine! I’m so sorry, totally my fault.” I turned to sprint away, but Chloe gently grabbed my arm. “I saw you walking from down the hall. I just wanted to ask, is the pediatric VIP wing in that direction?” I went completely rigid. She was going to the pediatric wing. She was going to see Leo. I couldn’t help but stare at her. Chloe was undeniably stunning. But she had a very soft, gentle, entirely non-threatening beauty. In one hand, she held an absurdly expensive basket of imported fruit. In the other, a massive, limited-edition Lego set. That was why she couldn’t brace herself when I completely bulldozed into her. I opened my mouth, trying to figure out how to answer her, when a chillingly familiar voice echoed from down the hall. “Chloe.” My spine instantly turned to ice. Chloe looked up, her face breaking into a bright smile. She stepped past me, walking toward Logan. “This hospital is an absolute maze! I was walking in circles for ten minutes.” Logan gave a low, noncommittal hum. His eyes darted past her. “Who were you talking to?” I don’t know if I was just being paranoid, but it felt like a sniper’s laser was burning a hole right between my shoulder blades. Chloe brushed it off casually. “Oh, just a stranger. We accidentally bumped into each other.” A wave of relief washed over me. I turned my head down, desperate to escape. But then Logan’s voice cracked through the hallway like a whip. “You. Turn around.” There was zero doubt in my mind. He was talking directly to me. Chloe instantly picked up on the tension. She reached out, lightly touching his arm. “Logan, what are you doing? She’s just a stranger. And she didn’t hurt me, I promise. Just let it go, don’t make a scene.” Ah. So Logan was just being fiercely protective of his girlfriend. I couldn’t help but find my own panic slightly pathetic. It had been five years. No one stays stuck in the past forever. What the hell was I so terrified of? I took a deep breath, slowly turned around, and looked directly at Chloe. “I am so sorry again for bumping into you.” For the entire agonizing ten seconds it took me to apologize, Logan’s eyes were locked onto my face like a predator. He didn’t say a single word. 6 The second I walked out of the hospital sliding doors, I booked it straight to the airport. Sitting in the back of the cab, Logan’s terrifying, dead-eyed stare played on a loop in my head. I remembered back to five years ago. His startup had completely collapsed, and aggressive debt collectors had actually tracked down our apartment. I emptied my savings account, withdrew the last fifteen thousand dollars I had to my name, and shoved it into his hands so he could pay off the worst of the sharks. Logan had looked at me with that exact same intensity. Then, he had pulled me into a crushing hug. “Baby, I can’t take your money. I promise you, I swear to God, I am going to make it.” “The second I make it, I am going to put a ring on your finger.” At the time, I didn’t think he was just feeding me empty promises. When we first met, if you combined both our bank accounts, we wouldn’t even break two hundred bucks. We rented a tiny, miserable one-bedroom apartment in a bad neighborhood. Rent was eight hundred a month. I took the bedroom and paid five hundred. He slept on a thrift store couch in the living room and paid three hundred. We split the utilities right down the middle. In the beginning, neither of us ever imagined we would end up falling in love. Logan had an absolutely relentless drive. He regularly worked on his laptop until three in the morning. One night, I came home late from drinks with some girlfriends and found him still hunched over his glowing screen. I casually held up a styrofoam box. “I brought back some leftover wings. You want them?” Logan practically launched himself out of his chair. “Yes!” We sat on the cheap carpet, eating cold wings, and talked for hours. That was the night I found out he had blown up his relationship with his wealthy family and walked out, swearing he wouldn’t return until he had built an empire with his own two hands. Not wanting to kill his vibe, I offered some generic encouragement. “With how hard you grind, as long as you find the right market, you’re guaranteed to succeed.” Logan looked at me, and I swear there were literal stars in his eyes. Maybe it was because I was the only person who offered him genuine support and a lifeline during the absolute darkest chapter of his life. But as soon as his startup finally gained a little traction, he asked me out. We stayed in that same miserable apartment. Except we weren’t splitting the rooms anymore. We were both sleeping in the bedroom. And Logan quietly took over the entire rent payment. It felt like our lives were slowly, steadily climbing toward the light. And then reality hit us with a baseball bat. Logan spent every waking hour drowning in a sea of toxic debt. He was barely coming home. And right at the absolute peak of the crisis, I found out I was pregnant. At first, I didn’t have the guts to tell him. I just wanted to help him survive the immediate financial bloodbath. But then, one afternoon, I came home early and overheard him on a phone call. “What is going on between me and Serena is none of your damn business. Stop interfering in my life, okay?” “Relax. Dating is one thing. When it comes time to actually pick a wife, I will reconsider my options.” I was Serena. I was so incredibly furious I saw red. I thought to myself, This guy is literally bankrupt and running from loan sharks, and he still has the audacity to act like a billionaire playboy? Did he honestly think every woman on earth was going to orbit around his massive ego? I was genuinely terrified that if I stayed with him, I would end up starving to death in a gutter. So, I made the split-second decision to dump him. Just to twist the knife, I left a handwritten note on the kitchen counter. I look at you and I see absolutely zero future. We’re done. I’m sure you understand. After all, I have the right to chase someone who can actually provide for me. Then, I blocked his number, blocked him on every social media platform, and vanished. It wasn’t until I was sitting on the Amtrak train halfway back to my hometown that I remembered one crucial detail. I was still carrying Logan’s baby. 7 For a brief, insane moment, I considered turning around, marching back to the apartment, screaming in his face, and telling him about the pregnancy. But then I remembered the absolute garbage he spewed on that phone call. I realized going back would just be volunteering for more humiliation. He never, for a single second, envisioned a future with me. As for the baby… Since he was already here, I decided to just let fate run its course. Over the years, I occasionally heard whispers about Logan through the grapevine. Apparently, his company had miraculously risen from the ashes. He paid off all his debt and was expanding aggressively. I immediately blocked the friend who told me. I had zero interest in hearing about his meteoric rise. Later, after I gave birth to Leo alone, my mom was furious. She complained constantly. But the very first time Leo giggled and reached for her face, my mom’s harsh voice melted into absolute honey. Ever since my dad passed away, my mom had been entirely hollow. It felt like Leo finally gave her a reason to wake up in the morning. She took care of the baby, and I worked double shifts. The days bled together. It was exhausting, but it was peaceful. Until Leo caught a “bad cold” that wouldn’t go away, and that peace was entirely obliterated. Sometimes, late at night, I honestly wondered if I had committed some horrific atrocity in a past life. Because every single time I thought my life was finally stabilizing, the universe would violently smash a brick into my face. … Snapping back to reality, I realized my face was completely drenched in tears. Great. How the hell am I going to explain this to my mom when I get home? My flight wasn’t until 2:00 PM. I still had an hour to kill sitting at the gate. Right on cue, my phone vibrated with a FaceTime call from my mom. Every instinct in my body screamed to decline it. But my mom is relentless. If I didn’t answer, she would call the airport police and report me missing. Defeated, I swiped the green button. “Where is my Leo?” The very first words out of her mouth. She didn’t even say hello. I rubbed my nose, trying to sound casual. “He’s right here, playing.” “Show him to me.” I purposefully jerked the camera toward the empty seat next to me. “He’s throwing a fit. He doesn’t want to be on camera.” My mom wasn’t an idiot. “Serena, are you at an airport gate? I thought you were checking him in for surgery! Why are you coming back so fast?” “Point the damn camera at Leo right now. I just want to say hi.” I stared at the screen, entirely frozen. “Serena! What the hell kind of game are you playing?” “Are you completely ignoring your mother now?!” Honestly, I couldn’t even process what my mom was yelling anymore. Because staring back at me on my phone screen, hovering just inches behind my right shoulder, was Logan’s face. He was standing right behind me. My mom was still screaming through the speaker. “Serena! If anything happens to my grandson, I swear to God I will end you!” “Mom, I gotta go!” In a blind panic, I jammed my thumb onto the red end-call button. I forced myself to take a shallow breath, plastered on a neutral face, and slowly turned around. “Can I help you?” Considering he currently had physical custody of my child, I couldn’t exactly pretend I had never met the guy. Logan glared down at me, his jaw clenched so tight I thought his teeth would shatter. “Serena. You are just as completely heartless as you were five years ago. First you abandon me, and now you are throwing your own son in the trash?” What do you mean, I abandoned him?! I shot to my feet, my own anger flaring up. “Get your story straight! I didn’t abandon you, you completely betrayed me first!” And wait—he already knew Leo was my biological son. Well, obviously. Unless he suffered a traumatic brain injury in that car crash, any idiot could do the math. Logan scowled, his dark eyes swirling with something I couldn’t read. I pushed forward. “Look, if you actually feel sorry for Leo, then once he recovers from the surgery, can I please come back and get him?” “Not a chance in hell.” Exactly as I predicted. The absolute second the Sinclair family knew this boy existed, my chances of ever getting him back dropped to zero. “Fine. Then take good care of him. I will make sure I never show my face to him again.” Logan was going to marry a billionaire heiress. Leo was going to have a wealthy, connected stepmother. My presence would only be a toxic, humiliating complication for their perfect family.

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My name is Sienna. This was supposed to be my sixth year with Sebastian. That day, I accidentally overheard a conversation between him and his secretary. The secretary asked if the little girl was still throwing a tantrum. Sebastian let out a scoff and said that no matter how fiery she was, she couldn’t hold a candle to the way Sienna used to be. The secretary quickly agreed, laughing about how no one could have predicted that the wild, untamable Miss Sienna from back then would turn into someone so incredibly obedient, never daring to step a toe out of line. But Sebastian just frowned. He said Sienna was docile now, yes, but she had also become painfully boring. I stood frozen outside the door, feeling like a lifeless statue carved out of clay. So that was it. I was the girl he was talking about. The one who used to be fiercely stubborn, but had now become so blindly obedient that I was completely unrecognizable. 1 Through the half-open door, the rise and fall of their conversation drifted out into the hallway. I had just raised my hand to push the door open when I suddenly heard my own name. “I think she’s just taking advantage of the fact that I spoil her.” “Fiery?” Sebastian sneered. “Even on her worst day, she doesn’t have half the fire Sienna had back then.” The men inside chuckled, eager to please him. “Miss Lily is young, after all. She won’t even turn nineteen until after the holidays. It’s totally normal for her to be a bit childish and throw tantrums.” “Sienna was exactly that age back then.” Sebastian seemed to get caught up in the memory, falling silent for a brief moment. “You all saw it. You know exactly how wild and fierce she was.” “But look at her now. She’s so well-behaved she wouldn’t dare breathe in the wrong direction.” The sycophantic laughter started up again. “You’re absolutely right, sir. Back then, none of us could have ever imagined Miss Sienna becoming so incredibly tame.” Someone else chimed in. “I remember it perfectly. She had a lethal temper. If I hadn’t ducked fast enough that one night, that heavy glass ashtray would have split my skull wide open.” Sebastian laughed along. “Now that she’s older, she’s gotten soft and utterly dull.” “Looking at Lily… I actually see a faint shadow of how Sienna used to be.” As he spoke, he suddenly turned to his secretary. “Go book a flight.” “For tonight. I’m flying back to New York.” “Are you flying back personally just to coax her?” The secretary sounded genuinely surprised. Sebastian didn’t deny it. “The patriarch isn’t feeling well. I need to go check on him. Dropping by to see Lily is just on the way.” “There are no more commercial flights tonight. The earliest private slot is at 3 AM. Would you like to reschedule…” “Book the 3 AM slot.” Sebastian cut him off without hesitation. 2 I slowly lowered my hand. Inside the room, the conversation carried on, but they had already moved on to other, meaningless topics. I didn’t push the door open. I just stood there, entirely rigid. Like a wooden carving. It wasn’t until the harsh, overly bright hallway lights began to make my eyes sting that I finally blinked, turned around, and slowly walked toward the elevator. The Sienna that Sebastian was talking about was me. The girl whose personality used to be incredibly stubborn and unyielding. The girl who had rejected his massive, extravagant romantic pursuits over a dozen times. The Sienna who used to dramatically quote cheesy proverbs about how wealth could never corrupt her and power could never bend her. And now, I had morphed into a girl so submissive that I didn’t even recognize my own reflection. As I stepped into the elevator, my phone buzzed. It was Sebastian. “Why aren’t you here yet?” “Something came up. I’m not going to make it.” “Alright. We’re wrapping up here anyway. I’ll be home soon.” Sebastian’s voice was as warm and gentle as always. “Be a good girl and wait for me at home, Sienna.” But he didn’t come home soon. I took a shower. My mind was wide awake, so I just sat on the living room rug, staring blankly into space. It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that the rain began to pour. The front door clicked open, and Sebastian strode in, bringing the freezing, damp scent of the rain with him. “You’re not asleep?” He seemed slightly taken aback. A fleeting second of guilt seemed to flash through his eyes. But it was only a second. He walked over, leaned down, and brushed his thumb against my cheek. Then he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I have to fly back to New York.” “Grandpa is sick. I’m really worried about him.” He spoke quickly, his voice low and a bit hoarse. His brows were pulled tightly together, and a heavy shadow of concern covered his face. If this had been any other day, my heart would have ached for him. But right now, looking at his face, studying every microscopic shift in his expression, I just felt a sickening urge to laugh. Was flying back to coax Lily really just a coincidence? Or was checking on his sick grandfather the actual coincidence? I doubt Sebastian even knew the answer to that himself. But it was glaringly obvious that his performance right now was so good he was even fooling himself. 4 “Sebastian, it’s raining outside.” I pointed toward the dark windows. A sudden, violent crack of thunder ripped the pitch-black sky wide open. It was a thunderstorm. My absolute biggest phobia. It was also the exact same weather we had six years ago, on the night we finally got together. “I’m scared.” I reached out and tugged the hem of his jacket, my pale lips pressed into a tight line. I looked up at him. I looked deep into his eyes. I saw the tiny reflection of myself in his pupils. Seeing the fragile, desperate hope written all over my own face made me want to cry. Six years of deep, consuming love couldn’t just be erased overnight. I kept telling myself that. If he didn’t leave… if he just agreed to stay with me… “Sienna, I absolutely have to go back.” Sebastian gently but firmly pried my fingers off his jacket. His tone was so resolute it bordered on freezing. “You have always been so understanding. What is wrong with you tonight?” Saying that, he turned around, shrugging off his damp coat as he walked toward the walk-in closet. “Come here. Help me pack.” “I’ll be gone for at least a week.” “But don’t worry, I won’t miss your birthday.” “And I definitely won’t miss our anniversary.” He stopped and looked back at me over his shoulder. His dark hair was slightly damp from the rain, clinging softly to his forehead. It made his deep, dark eyes look incredibly warm and affectionate. He didn’t look like the arrogant, untouchable elite he usually was. I stood up and offered him a small smile. I walked right past him and headed into the closet. I pulled out a massive, oversized hardshell suitcase. Sebastian chuckled. “Why do I need a bag that big? I’ll be back in a few days.” I thought about it for a second. He was right. But you couldn’t exactly wear recycled outfits to go see a brand-new girl. A girl with a temper that fiery definitely wouldn’t swallow that kind of disrespect. I packed a few essentials. Throughout the process, Sebastian kept checking his luxury watch, his eyes brimming with blatant impatience. My heart felt like a massive boulder, slowly sinking into the dark depths of the ocean. There were no violent waves or dramatic crashes. Just a few silent bubbles rising to the surface as it disappeared. I finally realized that letting go of six years of love only took the space of a single heartbeat. 5 Sebastian left. The heavy rain finally stopped. A faint, pale glow appeared on the horizon. The weather forecast said today was going to be a beautiful, sunny day. I started packing my own belongings. The things I absolutely needed went into my largest suitcase. Everything else went into cardboard boxes. I called a moving company to come and junk it all. Right before I walked out the door, I took off the ring that had sat on my left hand for six straight years. Sebastian had personally slid it onto my finger. He had promised me it was a priceless heirloom, passed down only to the wives of the Prescott family. But the Prescott family despised my ordinary, working-class background. They flat-out refused to accept me. They certainly never would have handed over a family heirloom to a nobody like me. I knew the truth. I knew it was just an expensive replica he had custom-made to keep me happy. And back then, because I was so desperately in love with him, I was perfectly willing to let him trick me. The ring was valuable, yes, but a fake was still a fake. I opened the front door and dragged my heavy suitcase out into the hall. I didn’t look back a single time. Just like I didn’t look back the day I decided to walk toward him. I gambled my heart, and I lost. I could accept that. 6 On his third day back in New York. The patriarch was perfectly fine and had already been discharged from the hospital. Lily had been successfully coaxed back into a sweet, obedient angel. His elite circles were throwing welcome-back parties for him every single night. Sebastian’s schedule was packed to the absolute brim. It wasn’t until a rare, quiet moment of downtime that someone casually mentioned Sienna’s name, snapping him back to reality. It had been exactly three days. He hadn’t received a single phone call from Sienna. There wasn’t a single text message waiting for him on his phone. His brow furrowed. He remembered that the night he left, the sky was tearing itself apart with a thunderstorm. Sienna was terrified of thunderstorms. Her father had died in a brutal hit-and-run on a night exactly like that. It was a trauma she could never outrun. A sudden wave of regret, mixed with a sharp sting of guilt, hit his chest. Why hadn’t he just waited until morning to fly out? It would have only been a few hours. Lily’s sweet, bubbling laughter echoed across the room. His wealthy friends were teasing her, treating her like an adorable little pet. Sebastian suddenly remembered what it was like when he was chasing Sienna. He had finally managed to convince her to come out for a drink. But because these exact same arrogant trust-fund kids had disrespected her and her roommate, Sienna completely lost her mind. She literally flipped the table right in front of them. She used her razor-sharp tongue to curse those spoiled brats into the dirt. And because he was standing right behind her, actively clapping and cheering her on, his friends were furious but completely powerless. They had been forced to swallow their pride and apologize to her face. Thinking back on it now, the memory was both hilarious and ridiculous. Over the last few years, the passion between him and Sienna had slowly faded. He frequently used checking on his grandfather as an excuse to linger in New York and fool around. But those girls came and went. They bored him entirely too quickly. Until he met Lily. But looking at her now, why did he ever think Lily was anything like Sienna? Sienna would never sit there like a good girl and let a bunch of men treat her like a joke. Sienna wouldn’t just blush and look down when they made dirty comments. When Sienna got angry, her eyes burned like actual fire. She would put her hands on her hips, tilt her chin up defiantly, and say something incredibly naive but entirely fearless: “You think having a little money makes you a god? I don’t give a damn about your wealth.” Sebastian couldn’t help but laugh out loud. He pulled out his phone, deciding to finally call her. But the call couldn’t connect. He lit a cigarette and stood on the high-rise balcony for ten minutes. Then, he called one of his subordinates upstate. Half an hour later, the man called back. His voice was trembling with absolute terror. “Miss Sienna moved out.” “She hired a moving company to haul everything away.” “The only thing left is a ring sitting on the coffee table.” Sebastian’s grip on his phone tightened so hard his knuckles turned white. “Did she leave a message?” “No, sir. I searched the entire apartment.” “She didn’t leave a single word behind.” Sebastian let out a dark, furious laugh. He realized that the exact insult he threw at Lily applied perfectly to Sienna. She was just taking advantage of the fact that he spoiled her. For the last few years, he had completely abandoned the luxury of New York high society just to live with her in that boring, quiet little town. His parents and elders refused to accept her, and he had fought them brutally for it. During their first few years together, he even skipped his family’s elite holiday galas just to spend New Year’s Eve with her. Who the hell was he? He was Sebastian Prescott. Since when did he ever lower his head and sacrifice his own comfort for anyone else? On the other end of the line, the subordinate didn’t even dare to breathe. It took a long time before Sebastian finally spoke, his voice dripping with ice. “Change the locks.” This was his territory. Walking out was easy, but if she thought she could ever waltz back in, she was out of her mind. 7 The seventh day. This was the day he was originally supposed to fly back. But Sebastian didn’t pack his bags. Sienna’s birthday was in five days. And exactly five days after that was their anniversary. Compared to her birthday, Sienna had always cared way more about the anniversary. Sebastian figured that, at the absolute latest, she would crack by that day and come crawling back. The twelfth day. Sebastian spent the entire day feeling inexplicably restless and on edge. A reminder popped up on his calendar. Sienna’s birthday. It felt like a physical needle in his eye. He opened the app and deleted it entirely. His friends had set up a massive party. After the first club, they immediately moved to a second lounge. He brought Lily along. The girl had completely shed all her defensive thorns. She sat glued to his side, looking as obedient as a porcelain doll. They were deep into the liquor when someone suddenly brought up Sienna’s name. “Seb, are you and that Sienna girl officially done for good?” Normally, even when he came back to New York, he never stayed longer than a week. No matter how gorgeous the girls were, his core focus always remained tied to Sienna. But this time, the vibe was completely different. Everyone was betting that Sienna was officially ancient history. Sebastian didn’t even lift his eyes. He held his whiskey glass in one hand, twisting a strand of Lily’s hair around the fingers of his other hand. “We’ve been done for a while.” “Hell yes!” Carter shot up from his leather booth, practically rubbing his hands together in excitement. “I’ve been waiting for this day until I was blue in the face!” “She used to walk all over us just because you backed her up. She was practically stepping on my neck.” “Now that you’ve dumped her, I want to see exactly how cocky she can be. If I ever run into her again, I swear to God I will destroy her!” A lot of the guys in the room had suffered under Sienna’s absolute refusal to tolerate their garbage. Instantly, the room erupted into passionate agreement. Lily looked around the room with wide, innocent eyes. “Who is Sienna? Is she really mean? You guys seem to hate her.” “She is the absolute worst! A total nightmare!” “Little girl, whatever you do, do not act like her. Girls like that always meet a miserable end, got it?” Lily turned back to Sebastian, pressing her soft body against his chest. “I’m the best-behaved girl in the world now, aren’t I, Sebastian?” Sebastian looked down. He clearly saw the calculated, desperate fawning hiding in her eyes. Even though she was trying her hardest to hide it, he saw right through it. He had seen that exact same pathetic, groveling look from people his entire life. He was utterly disgusted by it. He had just raised his hand to push her away when the heavy VIP doors were suddenly shoved open. “Holy shit, guess who I just saw downstairs?!” “Who? Why are you screaming?” “It’s Sienna! Sienna just walked past the bar! With that exact same arrogant attitude, I would recognize her if she turned to ash!” “What the hell is she doing here?” “Seb, is she stalking you? Is she here to beg for you back?” “I told you guys she wouldn’t just quietly walk away. She was definitely waiting for tonight to pull some massive stunt!” “Seb, if she comes crying to you, you aren’t going to get soft, are you?” The arrogant bravado of the rich kids instantly dropped a few notches. After all, every single one of them had seen exactly how obsessively Sebastian used to protect her. And none of them could genuinely predict what Sebastian was actually thinking right now. Sebastian’s hand, which had been meant to push Lily away, suddenly dropped to her cheek. He lightly pinched Lily’s soft skin, lazily lifting his gaze. His eyes locked onto the half-open door of the VIP room. He could faintly make out a slender shadow standing just outside in the hall. It had to be Sienna. He had honestly thought her pride would hold out a little longer. He assumed she would at least wait another five days. He didn’t expect her to lose her patience this quickly. Sebastian suddenly felt the heavy, suffocating dark cloud that had ruined his entire day completely evaporate. He leaned back lazily against the leather cushions. He purposely raised his voice, letting his tone drag with absolute arrogance. “No. I like good, obedient girls like Lily now.” “Whoever wants to deal with a wild thorn like that can have her.” The shadow cast on the hallway floor gave a violent, sudden tremble. The corner of Sebastian’s mouth curled up into a smirk. He was willing to bet money that Sienna wouldn’t last three seconds before she charged into the room. After all, with a temper as explosive as hers, how could she possibly swallow an insult like that?

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On the day of my prenatal checkup, the doctor and my husband forcibly took me into the abortion operating room. I was just about to ask if there had been a mistake. But my husband calmly spoke up: “There’s no mistake.” “I’ve taken in a female college student, and she’s pregnant too. I promised her that in this life, I would only have one child.” My voice couldn’t stop trembling: “What do you mean?” He smiled and said: “I just want you to adopt Nina’s child. I’m making you abort your own child because I’m afraid you’ll be biased in the future and treat my child with Nina badly.” He calmly handed me the surgery consent form: “Be good, sign it, and my wife you’ll always remain.” I gave him a deep look, then turned and staggered toward the operating room. “Ethan Turner, I hope you don’t regret the decision you made today.” He didn’t know that in this world, I was the only one—the only one who could bear him a child. Because he, suffering from azoospermia, was destined to be infertile.

I woke up three days later. The first words I heard were: “Mr. Turner, you really took a huge risk this time. Not only did you force the abortion of an eight-month fetus, but you also demanded her uterus be removed at the same time. Your wife almost bled out—we nearly lost her.” Ethan’s indifferent voice responded: “I promised Nina that I’d only ever have one child in this lifetime—hers and mine. The safest way to ensure that is to have Sophia’s uterus removed so she can’t conceive again.” His gaze swept over and met mine directly. Ethan showed no sign of panic. He reached over to tuck the blanket around me, saying with a touch of helplessness: “You heard? I had no choice. Nina said that only if the wife is disabled and unable to bear children can we legally adopt. Since you needed the abortion anyway, I figured I’d have your uterus removed at the same time. Save you from going through another surgery.” Seeing tears in my eyes, he gently wiped them away, saying with slight mockery: “I didn’t expect removing the uterus during pregnancy would cause hemorrhaging. Lucky for you, the elite gynecologist I hired for Nina was already at the hospital. You benefited from Nina’s good fortune and survived.” My whole body trembled as I mustered all my strength to slap his face. My heart felt like it was tearing apart: “Ethan, you’re not human.” But my hand only grazed his cheek weakly, leaving not even a red mark. A petite figure suddenly screamed and rushed over, slapping me hard across the face. I fell back onto the bed, the oxygen tube slipping off as I gasped for air. Looking up, I saw a young woman with tears in her eyes, standing in front of Ethan, shouting at me: “How dare you hit him! Do you know he’s been standing guard outside the ICU for three whole days because of you? If I hadn’t brought him nutrition meals every day, he would’ve collapsed.” “The man I care so deeply about—why should he be your tool for venting your emotions?” I didn’t miss the flash of emotion and tenderness in Ethan’s eyes. I had seen that look before. It was the same look he gave me when I got alcohol poisoning from drinking on his behalf and miscarried our first child. It was the same look when debt collectors threatened to chop off his hand, and I knelt crying and begging them, pawning my mother’s only keepsake to buy his freedom. I had done so much for him. But in the end, it couldn’t compare to a single tear from his new love. My heart felt like it was being stabbed with a dull knife, over and over. I propped myself up, looking at their affectionate display, and laughed bitterly: “Should I be grateful to him then? Grateful that for you, he aborted my full-term baby, secretly removed my uterus, nearly killed me, yet still deigned to stay by my bedside until I woke up?” Nina’s tears fell like broken pearls. She stared at me stubbornly: “It’s all my fault, okay?! I’m the one who hurt you! I’ll atone for it, okay?!” Like a madwoman, she shoved Ethan aside, grabbed the fruit knife from my bedside table, and thrust it toward her own belly: “I’ll cut out my baby and my uterus right now to make it up to you, okay?!” Ethan grabbed her tightly, gripping the knife handle as blood dripped down continuously. He looked up at me coldly, frozen in shock: “Sophia, are you satisfied now?” He carefully lifted the unconscious Nina in his arms and left without looking back, leaving only one sentence: “Seems I’ve been too good to you, making you think you can do whatever you want. Since that’s the case, you’d better learn what suffering really means.” I watched his retreating figure, laughing through my tears. The man who once promised to cherish me forever and never let me suffer had finally died in the passage of time. Ethan’s bodyguard coldly dragged me up and threw me out the door. “Starting today, everything Mr. Turner gave you will be taken back. If you want to keep staying in this hospital room…” I smiled bitterly and turned to leave. “No need. I don’t want anything from Ethan anymore.” My phone and wallet were all confiscated. Because they were all things Ethan had given me. Penniless, I stood on the street, desperately trying to flag down a car to take me home. But every time a kind person stopped, Ethan’s bodyguard would dutifully say: “If you’re not afraid of offending Mr. Turner of Empire Group, go ahead and let her in your car.” They would shake their heads helplessly at me and quickly drive away. The bodyguard looked at my barely-standing body and said coldly: “Mr. Turner asked me to tell you, this is what happens when you defy him and refuse to obey. If you’re willing to apologize to Miss White and agree to personally care for her during her pregnancy, he’ll have me take you home.” I turned a deaf ear, simply started walking step by step toward home.

Blood dripped down my thighs onto the asphalt road, drawing sideways glances from passersby. But I was completely numb, walking step by step until darkness fell and I finally reached my front door. The brightly lit room drove away the cold of the deep night. I raised my already frozen fingers and entered the passcode, but was met with an error beep. I gritted my teeth and entered the code again and again, the system repeatedly telling me it was wrong. Finally, the maid, annoyed beyond patience, strode over and opened the door, saying coldly: “Ma’am, stop trying. Until you apologize to sir, you can’t use anything sir bought.” “This house was bought by sir. If you don’t apologize, you can’t come in.” She looked me up and down and sneered: “If you ask me, just apologize already. What kind of status does Mr. Turner have? There are plenty of women out there waiting to take your place. Look at yourself—no family background, no looks. Over thirty and now you can’t even have children…” “He has another woman pregnant outside, and he still hasn’t divorced you. He’s already being good to you. What are you making a fuss about…” I interrupted her softly: “I won’t go in. I just need to get one thing.” The maid choked, then said sarcastically: “Everything you own was bought by Mr. Turner. What could possibly belong to you? You’re not planning to steal Mr. Turner’s jewelry and bags to sell, are you?” I said calmly: “I just want to get my medical test results. Is that not allowed?” The maid rolled her eyes, went upstairs, and threw down a manila envelope at me. I picked up the envelope and looked at the azoospermia report with Ethan’s name on it, smiling silently. This was the pre-marital medical examination report from when Ethan and I got married ten years ago. The moment I received the test results, my feelings were mixed. I didn’t know how to tell Ethan about this. Proud as he was, how could he accept being a defective man? How would his peers use this to suppress him? But fortunately, the doctor told me a secret—my physiology was special. I could activate Ethan’s inactive sperm and conceive. “Miss Cole, Mr. Turner is truly blessed to marry you. You’re the only person with such a special constitution I’ve ever encountered…” I had thought I would bury this secret in my heart forever and never let Ethan know. But I never imagined that one day, I would have to reveal this secret myself. I took out the little change in my pocket, made more than a dozen copies of this document, and handed them to a courier. Each copy had the address of a company hostile to Ethan and the private contact information of those CEOs. I said softly: “Please deliver these as quickly as possible. Just tell them this is a gift from Mrs. Turner. They’ll definitely give you a generous tip.” Ethan, this is my final gift to you before I leave. I hope you like it. Leaving the marital home Ethan and I shared, I returned to the small studio apartment where we lived when we started our business ten years ago. Back then we were dirt poor, living only in the most run-down rental in the urban village. The environment was terrible, but we were happy then. Too poor to afford anything but instant noodles, Ethan would lie and say he’d eaten well at business dinners, dumping both portions into my bowl. And late at night I’d see him standing at the sink, drinking glass after glass of tap water to fill his stomach. Our wedding ceremony was held in that shabby rental too. No banquet, just a plain silver ring that cost less than a thousand dollars. This place meant everything to me. So even after we moved to a luxury villa worth a hundred thousand per square meter, I secretly bought that rental property, fantasizing that when Ethan and I grew old, we’d move back there to live. I never imagined that one day, when my marriage to Ethan ended, I would return to where we first began.

I turned the doorknob and pushed open the door to see two intertwined figures on the sofa. And the matching couple’s pajamas I had treasured in the closet—the ones Ethan and I once wore—were now on Ethan and Nina. My mind went blank. I couldn’t control my questioning: “Ethan! How could you bring her here! You know this is our—” Before I could finish, Nina had already efficiently slapped herself across the face. With a swollen face, she stood in front of Ethan, glaring at me with tears: “Mrs. Turner, I just wanted to understand Ethan’s past life, so I begged him to bring me here.” “If you’re unhappy, I can kneel and apologize to you. Just please stop hurting him.” Ethan was heartbroken. He cupped her face, blowing on it repeatedly. He looked coldly at the bodyguard. The bodyguard behind me immediately grabbed my arms. His hand like a fan slapped my face hard. Over and over, my ears rang. I don’t know how long it lasted before they finally stopped and released me. I fell to the floor. Ethan looked at me with an expressionless face: “Sophia, why do you insist on making yourself miserable? If you’re not feeling well, just go home and rest. Why did you have to follow us here to cause trouble?” I smiled bitterly: “Go home? Do I still have a home? Is it even my home anymore?” I looked at him with red eyes, tears mixing with nosebleed dripping on the floor: “Ethan, why did you bring her here…” “You can fool around with her anywhere you want! Why did you have to defile this place!” “The thirty-year-old Ethan is already rotten to the core. Why do you have to destroy the only memory the twenty-year-old Ethan left me?” Ethan’s eyes flickered for a moment, but then turned to anger: “I’m rotten to the core? How am I rotten? Sophia, don’t forget—if it weren’t for me, you’d be stuck in this cramped rental for life!” “Don’t forget, the money you used to buy this place came from my account! This place belongs to me too! I can do whatever I want with it!” He laughed bitterly in anger: “You say I’m defiling this place by coming here?! Forget defiling it—even if I blow up this dump, it’s none of your business.” He had his men drag me out and placed several pounds of explosives outside the shabby building. With one command, the house that held our only happy memories together was reduced to rubble. In the flames filling the sky, my tears wouldn’t stop falling. Ethan stared at the tears on my face. His anger dissipated somewhat, his tone cold: “Sophia, what do I have to say to make you understand?” “I gave you the status of Mrs. Turner. I let you live in the best villa. I let you carry bags worth hundreds of thousands. Even the clothes you’re wearing now are haute couture that ordinary people could never afford in their lifetime. Haven’t I been good enough to you?!” “You’re already thirty years old. You’re not young anymore. Do you really expect me to still love an aging you?” “I give you the dignity of being my wife, I give you a comfortable life. All you need to do is turn a blind eye and accept Nina and the child. Is that so hard?” I met his gaze and said word by word: “I’m not willing.” “Ethan, you’ve erased everything we had with your own hands.” “Let’s divorce.” Anger and irritation flashed in Ethan’s eyes. He looked at me and said flatly: “Divorce? Impossible. Even if I don’t love you anymore, you’re still my most important person. I won’t divorce you.” He looked at me, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, I’ve never wronged you. If anyone’s been wronged, it’s Nina—I couldn’t give her a proper status, making her stay with me without name or title in her best years.” “I was going to give you some dignity, but I didn’t expect you to be so unreasonable, making things this ugly.” He turned around, knelt on one knee, pulled out a huge pigeon-egg diamond ring from his pocket, and said affectionately to Nina: “Nina, I regret meeting you so late.” “I can’t give you a proper status in this lifetime, but I want to give you the grandest wedding and let everyone know you’re the one I love most.” Nina covered her mouth, her eyes reddening, but she still turned her head away, looking dejected: “I can’t accept! I love you, so I’m willing to put aside my self-respect and degrade myself to be your mistress, but I don’t want everyone to know I’m your mistress!” “Unless…” She turned to look at me: “Unless Mrs. Turner witnesses our wedding and admits in front of everyone that the unloved one is the real mistress, that she’s the third wheel!”

I looked expressionlessly at the malice in the young woman’s eyes. Seeing my silence, Ethan said coldly: “Sophia, don’t forget—your parents’ ashes are buried in the cemetery I bought.” “You wouldn’t want them to end up like this house… would you?” My heart felt like a huge chunk had been carved out with a knife. Even breathing tasted like blood. I slowly nodded. “Fine. I’ll go.” Nina broke into a smile and threw herself into Ethan’s arms. He took Nina to order wedding dresses and book the venue. Before leaving, he paused. Rarely, he explained to me peacefully: “Sophia, it’s just a wedding. It won’t shake your position as Mrs. Turner.” I said calmly: “Okay.” He looked at me deeply, finally showing a smile: “You don’t need to take care of Nina during this time. Rest well in the hospital. After the baby is born, we’ll take the child on a family trip. Consider it my compensation to you.” I still calmly said okay. Only then did Ethan leave satisfied. On the wedding day, Ethan was afraid I’d cause trouble, so he had bodyguards take me to the dressing room early to watch over me. Nina acted coquettishly, saying her wedding dress was too heavy and she couldn’t put on her shoes. “Mrs. Turner, help me out.” Ethan frowned slightly, instinctively looking at me. I lowered my eyes, knelt down, lifted the wedding dress, and helped her put on her shoes. Ethan looked at me with a complicated expression, pursing his lips as if wanting to say something, but Nina pushed him. “Honey, I’m thirsty. Go get me some orange juice.” Hearing this, Ethan smiled and ruffled her hair, then turned and walked out. As soon as he left, Nina kicked me in the chest. She looked at me mockingly and said: “Sophia, you don’t think I’m some gold digger clinging to a rich man, do you?” “You probably don’t know—Ethan and I have been in love for nearly ten years too.” Seeing the shock in my eyes, she smiled viciously: “Ethan said I was too young and shouldn’t suffer with him, so he only dated me while marrying you.” “He was afraid of wronging me. The first money he earned, he told you was taken by debt collectors, but actually he bought me designer bags. Every time I felt wronged, he’d have those people come to your house and stage debt collection scenes, taking the money to buy me bags.” “One million eight hundred thousand in total. Oh, and there was a worthless bracelet that I threw away.” My whole body trembled uncontrollably. One million eight hundred thousand—that was the money I earned over those years to pay off Ethan’s debts. At my most exhausted, I even collapsed on the assembly line and nearly got pulled into the machinery. When Ethan found out, he held me trembling, saying it was his fault. How ridiculous that I comforted him then, smiling and saying I didn’t blame him… It was all fake! He’d been lying to me all along! Nina kept chattering: “Later when you got pregnant, I was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So he staged a scene with business partners, getting you so drunk you miscarried. You don’t even know—when you were unconscious in the operating room, he was calling me, begging me not to be angry at him.” These words hit me like a bludgeon. Everything went dark before my eyes. Nina’s face suddenly turned vicious, full of resentment as she looked at me: “But he loves me so much, yet still won’t divorce you and marry me!” “You’re just relying on Ethan’s soft heart and sentimentality, relying on the fact that you suffered through his startup days with him to suppress me.” She suddenly laughed: “Tell me—if Ethan knew you hurt the child in my belly, would he still care about that bit of history between you two?” All my hair stood on end. I immediately turned to run out. Behind me, Nina grabbed a champagne bottle and smashed it hard against her own belly, screaming. “Ethan! Save me!” The dressing room door was kicked open by Ethan. He grabbed my wrist and threw me to the floor. His eyes were bloodshot as he looked at Nina collapsed on the ground, blood spreading from under her dress. “It wasn’t me…” My explanation was choked off by Ethan’s hand around my throat. His eyes blood-red, he roared at me: “Sophia! You won’t even spare a child! You disgust me!!” “You caused Nina to lose her child. Don’t blame me for going after your dead parents.” Through my terrified, agonized tears, he directly ordered: “Dig up Sophia’s parents’ graves. Grind their bones to dust and flush them down the sewers.” “No!” I screamed: “Ethan! You maniac! The dressing room has surveillance cameras! Go check them! It wasn’t me!!” Sophia trembled as she stood up, turned and ran toward the window: “Without the child, what’s the point of living? I might as well die!” “Mrs. Turner, frame me however you want!” Ethan’s face changed drastically. He shoved me aside and rushed over to grab Sophia. He looked at me with a cold expression, saying each word clearly: “Sophia, you’ve exhausted the last bit of affection I had for you. For hurting my love and my child, I won’t let you off.” He said coldly: “Send her to prison. Tell the people inside to take good care of her.” “I don’t want her to have a single good day in there.” … Ethan ran red lights all the way to the hospital. He carried Nina and rushed directly into the emergency room: “Save my love and my child! If you can save my child, I’ll donate ten million to your hospital!” The on-duty doctor was startled and stared at Ethan in shock: “Mr. Turner?” He frowned, looking at Ethan, then at Nina lying pale and fragile on the bed. He asked in confusion: “Your child? Mr. Turner, you have azoospermia and are infertile. How could you have a child?”

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On our wedding anniversary, I put on sexy lingerie and nervously sent my sexually indifferent husband a selfie. Our chat history was nothing but 1s and 2s. Me: “Working late tonight?” Him: “1” — meaning yes. Me: “Coming home tonight?” Him: “2” — meaning no. This time, instead of a number, he sent a 60-second voice message. I played it. A woman’s moans came through: “Wait until I finish having sex with Professor Moore, then I’ll send him back.” “You take care of his daily needs. I’ll take care of his physical needs. Nice and clear division of labor.” My hands trembling, I closed the app, got dressed, and drove to the lab. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan holding a woman, moving wildly. Heavy breathing, stifled moans — he had never treated me like that. But I was his wife. I stood outside the door for a very, very long time. Finally, I raised my hand and knocked. When Ethan emerged, his expression was calm. Not a trace of embarrassment at being caught in the act. His dark eyes settled on my face. After a moment’s pause, he spoke deliberately: “Let’s talk about this at home.” His slender hand reached toward me. I didn’t move. For the past twenty years, whether it was dates, confessions, proposals, or even the pathetically rare sex we had — I’d initiated all of it. “Fiona?” For once, he used my nickname, but his head was still tilted to the side, his gaze directed behind him. Looking at that woman whose face he was carefully blocking with his body, shielding her from view. My nose stung. I forced a dry laugh: “Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Only then did he turn his head. The look in his eyes now held guilt and pleading. “Fiona, can we just go home first? Please?” Without waiting for a response, he grabbed my collar and roughly pulled me aside. Then he turned back and gently instructed the woman: “You should go. Quickly!” The clicking of high heels drew closer and closer. Ethan’s gaze followed her retreating figure, growing more distant. He watched her so intently that he didn’t even notice the cut on my cheek from where I’d been scraped against a nail on the wall. Ethan hadn’t always been this cold to me. During those college years when his condition improved, he’d acted like a normal person, caring about my joys and sorrows. After we married, he’d cancel urgent meetings and experiments on nights when I had my period, using his burning palms to warm my stomach. He’d clumsily write me love letters by hand before my birthday, trying to make up for the regrets of our youth. But those warm, sweet memories couldn’t compete with the pain on my face right now. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I forced them back. Taking a deep breath, I shook off his hand: “Stop looking. She’s gone.” His body stiffened. He hesitated, not daring to turn around. This time I didn’t wait for him. I headed to the car first. We arrived home close to 11 PM. The moment I changed out of my shoes, hands lifted me from behind and placed me on the sofa. I turned to see Ethan retrieving the first aid kit, kneeling before me. The concern in his eyes didn’t seem fake. “I’m sorry…” I didn’t respond, letting him carefully treat my wound while his neck was still covered in hickeys. Just like years ago when we exchanged wedding rings, when he’d publicly vowed to love me forever. The same posture. The same eyes. But everything had changed. Blood-stained cotton balls fell into the trash. As Ethan closed the first aid kit, I held out my hand to him: “Your phone.” He didn’t move, but the concern in his eyes faded, replaced by barely suppressed impatience. “Don’t make trouble for her. I’ll end things with her.”

I bit down hard and laughed. This man’s earlier concern, his kneeling — it was all for this moment. So I wouldn’t make trouble for the woman who held his heart. How could I possibly listen? Brushing past him, I grabbed his phone from the table. The lock screen showed that woman’s shy, smiling face. The password was still my birthday. But the pinned chat on his SnapChat had been changed to this woman named Chloe. Their chat thread was incredibly active. He replied to her every message instantly. But my chat with him was a wasteland. The last message was from half a month ago. “Coming home for dinner?” He hadn’t replied. The next day after work, he’d sent a dismissive: “Too busy, forgot.” I knew he had a national-level project underway, so I’d been understanding, not making a fuss, racking my brains to make him nutritious, healthy meals. But I never imagined that all the care I gave him, he’d spent on someone else. Even his “busy” was just being busy screwing someone in the lab. [Your wife hasn’t seen you in half a month. Are you coming home tonight?] [Bored with her. Not going.] The hand gripping the phone trembled slightly. Twenty years. The best years of a woman’s youth. I’d spent it all on this man, and all I got in return was “bored with her.” Those words blurred through my tears into an indistinct mess. I bit my lip, forcing my eyes open wide, reading word by word. Reading how this rigid man who’d lecture about physics even during sex had dressed up in costumes to play elaborate roleplay games for this woman. Reading how at the science award ceremony I’d begged him multiple times to take me to — events he’d always refused — he’d brought her instead, letting her accept congratulations in my place, under my name. Reading how when Chloe asked him “Do you like your wife or me?” he’d replied without hesitation: “She’s old now, loose down there too. Can’t compare to you.” Turning the entire first half of my life — spent devotedly helping him ascend to greatness — into one massive joke. My eyes burned. I returned the phone to Ethan. The more I read, the more I felt like a complete fool. “Fiona, I’m a man. I have needs and desires. Things with her got out of hand, we couldn’t help ourselves.” “I hope you can understand and not make a scene. Let’s just end this here, okay?” His voice remained gentle. Even his lies sounded so convincing. But I stubbornly wanted answers. I pointed at the pinned profile picture, my voice hoarse: “Of all people to cheat with, why her? Why the woman who killed your parents?” I raised my voice, grabbing his collar, my words tearing through the air: “Have you forgotten how your parents could have lived, but she ran them over again and again, grinding them into pulp?” Ethan turned his face away. After a long pause, he finally spoke: “She was young then. It wasn’t intentional.” “And my parents shouldn’t have been out that late at night. They brought it on themselves…” I carefully savored those two sentences. And couldn’t help but laugh bitterly. Laughing at my own blindness. When Ethan’s parents died and his relatives refused to take him in, Chloe — afraid he’d press charges — had systematically driven him insane. She’d made him crawl on the ground and drink urine, bark like a dog, spreading videos of it everywhere. His miserable state was burned into my memory for twenty years. Even after he recovered, I’d kept track of Chloe’s whereabouts. But I never anticipated this. Not only had Ethan forgiven his parents’ murderer first, he’d climbed into bed with her. During every night he’d lied about working late, he’d tried every position with her. He said they couldn’t help themselves, overcome by passion. So what were my meddling twenty years worth? Thunder rumbled as his phone rang simultaneously. Ethan didn’t even glance at me before answering. “Ethan, my thesis data got rejected. If I miss tonight’s deadline, my entire project is ruined…” Chloe’s voice was sweet and cloying. The man’s throat bobbed as he immediately rushed to the entrance to change shoes, not forgetting to coo at her: “Don’t worry, baby. I’m coming right now.” He responded as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if I didn’t exist. I whirled around and blocked his path: “You’re not going!” Ethan frowned, irritation rising in his eyes. “Fiona! This is about Chloe’s future. She’s not useless like you. Get out of my way!” The word “useless” nailed me in place. I forgot how to react. Ethan’s patience completely evaporated. He grabbed my collar and shoved me aside. My wound struck the corner of a cabinet. I hissed in pain. Instinctively, I called out: “Ethan, it hurts…” The only response was the earth-shattering slam of the door.

Liquid dripped down my face. I didn’t bother with it. Like a walking corpse, I pulled out tonight’s lunch box of food I’d lovingly prepared. Opened the lid, grabbed my fork, and mechanically stuffed the still-warm food into my mouth, chewing as if punishing myself. But thinking about how this lunch box had also been at the lab tonight made my mouth, my stomach, churn with revulsion — like I’d swallowed countless needles. I rushed to the bathroom and retched into the toilet. As tears streamed from my eyes, the doorbell rang. It was Ethan’s supervisor. “Fiona, Ethan’s at City General Hospital. Get here quick!” Instinctively, I asked: “What happened? Is he okay?” Before he could answer, a strange woman’s sobbing voice came through the phone: “If it weren’t for helping me get that corporate data, you wouldn’t have been forced to drink so much you got gastric bleeding!” “I’ll go heat up some milk for you right now…” Ethan’s weak voice protested: “Don’t… just stay with me. Let her do that kind of grunt work.” “Is that… appropriate?” “Why wouldn’t it be? Taking care of people is her only talent. Remember this — your hands are meant for writing papers, conducting experiments, winning awards. They shouldn’t be wasted in a kitchen…” My throat felt like it had been scraped raw, like a fire burning it over and over. I stared at my gaunt, withered reflection in the mirror. Suddenly I understood. In this genius physicist’s eyes, I — his wife — was only fit for menial labor. Only fit to serve. Elevate his mistress to the clouds. Reduce his wife to a maid. What a perfect arrangement. “Fiona, Ethan’s bleeding quite a bit. When are you coming?” I wiped away my tears and spoke slowly into the still-connected call: “Boss, I won’t be coming to the hospital. But feel free to invite me to the public denouncement when his affair with Miss Chloe gets exposed!” I hung up. My heart felt no better. I drifted ghost-like to the bedroom, gazing at the bright moon hanging high. Suddenly, I laughed softly. Ethan had probably long forgotten that back then, I’d been the top student at our university besides him. He’d already been specially recruited by the National Physics Research Institute. For my sake, he’d secretly torn up that offer letter, insisting on going to another city with me for college. I’d gotten angry at him for the first time: “Are you crazy? How can you waste your talent like this?” He’d stubbornly shaken his head, his eyes redder than blood. “Wherever you go, I go. Without you, I don’t want anything!” He’d even taken that offer letter covered in tape and knelt at my parents’ door, kowtowing repeatedly. “Uncle, Aunt, please believe me. Fiona is my entire life.” “I’d rather die than let her down.” When Ethan was serious, stars would appear in his eyes. And I’d naturally believed him completely. When he said forever, I thought he meant forever. Later, I gave up my studies, became a homemaker, lost myself in his ever-ascending career, becoming increasingly marked by domestic mundanity. I earned no praise, only insults calling me “useless.” Life really is full of reversals. Just like tonight — I’d gone to the lab to tell him he was going to be a father. What should have been a surprise turned into a nightmare.

The next day, when I returned home from the lawyer’s office, my parents suddenly called. Their tone was unusually stern. “Fiona! Tell us the truth. Did you do something to betray Ethan?” I was stunned. I didn’t know how to explain that Ethan had cheated and I wanted a divorce. After a few seconds of stunned silence, I chose to deflect. “Mom, Dad, nothing like that happened…” My mother’s heavy breathing came through the phone. “Our house got splashed with red paint by some woman named Chloe. She says you’re shameless, that you seduce her husband every night!” “What’s going on? The neighbors are all pointing fingers at us, saying you couldn’t control yourself, that while Ethan was working late, you were out there sleeping around…” My hot-tempered father snatched the phone away, shouting at the top of his lungs: “Are you really that cheap? That desperate? Because of you, people are talking behind our backs. Your mother’s fainted several times… If you don’t fix this, we’re cutting you off!” Bang! The call disconnected. Almost simultaneously, a soft laugh came from the bedroom. The door opened. Chloe stood inside. She looked younger than her profile picture, with luminously pale skin and bright eyes. In her hands were the shredded pieces of my pregnancy test results. “Like the gift I sent your parents?” She smiled sweetly. But it made my blood run cold. I pulled out my phone to call the police while demanding: “How did you get in here?” She slapped the phone out of my hand. Shaking her head with a mocking laugh: “Stupid! Your husband gave me the key, obviously.” I stood frozen, my entire body shaking with rage. She looked at me, tilting her head with a smile. “Can’t handle this already?” “What if I told you I don’t just have your house key — I also have his project authorship rights and his research institute paycard? What would you do then?” I took a breath, forcing down the fury rising in my chest. “You saw it yourself. I’m carrying his child. I’m his legitimate wife. He won’t destroy his academic career and future for you!” She froze for a second. Then burst out laughing. “Really?” She suddenly stood up, slowly walking toward me, her eyes dropping to my still-flat stomach. Lips curling, her voice drawling slowly: “You think having a baby will tie him down? Just like you thought spending twenty years with him would guarantee you his whole life?” “Stupid! So stupid!” She threw her head back, laughing wildly. Her voice was shrill and piercing. Then I watched as her hands slowly moved to her own stomach. Her clothes were thin. Thin enough that I could clearly see her swollen belly. Chloe glanced at my stunned expression, her face unable to hide her gloating. “Fourteen weeks along. Ethan said once he finishes this current project, he’ll tell you he wants a divorce. He’s even reported it to his superiors.” “If I were you, I’d spread my legs and find another man…” Fourteen weeks… Fourteen weeks ago, she’d already had a key to my home. She’d probably been in my marital bed, on the sofa, even in the shower — in every corner of our shared home. He’d mounted this woman, taking her again and again. The clinking sounds of lab equipment bottles came crashing back into my ears. Boom! My carefully maintained composure shattered under the weight of my rage. I grabbed the ashtray from the table and hurled it at her. Ahhh! She couldn’t dodge in time. It hit her squarely, blood streaming from her forehead. The suffocating pressure I’d been holding back, mixed with fury over my parents being terrorized, formed a tidal wave. I didn’t stop. Instead, I lunged at her like a madwoman. Straddling her body, I grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the table. Bang! Her piercing screams were music to my ears in that deadly silent space. The blood spurred me into deeper frenzy. I tore at her scalp while cursing at the top of my lungs: “Bitch! Whore! Husband-stealing slut! Why don’t you just die! I’ll kill you!” I’d lost all reason. Completely consumed by rage. Chloe’s face was covered in blood. Her forehead crimson, her nose crimson, her mouth crimson. She screamed until her voice went hoarse. But I showed no mercy, clawing at her face, biting her ear, kicking her stomach with my feet. She shrieked as blood seeped from between her legs in a spreading stain. I stared at the bright red beneath her, pausing for a few seconds. Just those few seconds — and my lower abdomen took a brutal kick. Pain exploded across my belly. My entire body flew backward. Splurch! Flesh pierced through. The tip of an umbrella protruding from the entryway plunged deep into my body. No! I heard Ethan’s terrified scream.

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I found an old phone in my husband Ethan Lloyd’s coat pocket. The password was his first love’s birthday. Inside were records of every time they had sex — in his office, in the bathroom of the café downstairs, even in our marital bedroom. “Lily, is it fun invading other people’s privacy?” I turned around. Ethan was standing in the doorway. I was exhausted. This time, I didn’t bother fighting with him. I just said calmly, “Let’s get a divorce.” Ethan smashed the phone on the floor right in front of me, his expression utterly indifferent. “That’s all in the past.” He asked, “Still want the divorce?” I nodded seriously. “Yes.” “Enough. Stop making a scene.” Ethan frowned, clearly impatient. “Be good. Once the project wraps up at the end of the year, I’ll make time to take you skiing in Hokkaido, okay?” When I didn’t respond for a long while, Ethan’s lips curved into his usual careless smile as he tapped my forehead with his fingertip. “I’m not lying this time. I mean it.” I almost wanted to laugh. “Not lying this time.” So he knew he’d lied to me countless times before. He’d promised that Hokkaido ski trip years ago, postponing it year after year. For our usual movie dates, I was always the one waiting alone at the theater entrance until showtime. When he said he’d pick me up, I’d stand there soaked by the rain, never seeing his car. Ethan always broke his promises to me. So now, saying this like it was some kind of favor, some reward. “No need,” I said, taking a deep breath before repeating firmly, “Ethan, I want a divorce.” This time, the man’s expression turned cold, his patience completely exhausted. “Lily, you’re being completely unreasonable.” “Go to Hokkaido or don’t—I’ve already given you the chance.” “Don’t come crying to me later about how I didn’t keep my word.” With that, he grabbed his coat from the sofa and turned to leave. He didn’t even touch the dinner I’d carefully prepared to his taste. I remained silent too. For the first time, I didn’t try to make him stay, not even for one more minute. Ethan paused at the door, glancing back at me. I had already sat down and begun eating quietly by myself. He slammed the door. Like he was venting some fury. My heart had long since stopped hurting—only a barren wasteland remained. I used to think that someone as superior as Ethan would never stoop to mundane domesticity. But it turned out he would cook for the girl he loved. Just to earn one compliment from her. The cuts on his hands, the burns from hot water—they all became badges of love. He’d even said such childish things: “Cooking for someone you like really does feel so happy.” “I want to cook for Claire for the rest of my life, fatten her up so no one else will try to steal her from me.” Reading those records made me realize for the first time how much of a joke I was. The next day, I met my lawyer best friend at a café and asked her to draft a divorce agreement. “What happened with you two? Why is it this serious this time?” My friend looked shocked. She knew better than anyone how much I loved Ethan. In past arguments, we’d have a cold war at most. “I’m really tired,” I said, looking out at the traffic. “You know what? She came back.” Just that one pronoun, and my friend understood. Claire Bennett. Ethan’s unforgettable first love. That name was like a tiny needle lodged in my heart. Never drawing blood, but causing pain from time to time. I’d never even seen her in person, yet her existence had affected me for five whole years. Ethan said personal space was important, but he and Claire had shared a music account. Ethan didn’t like his life being public, but his old social media was filled with traces of that girl. The art exhibitions he took me to featured Claire’s favorite painters. He complained that shopping with me wasted time, yet he’d once browsed every antique market in the city with her. Two years of dating, three years of marriage—Ethan had never truly removed her from his heart. And I was more like companionship during his single period. A habit. A second choice. “Alright, leave the divorce agreement to me—I won’t let you get the short end of the stick!” My friend said worriedly, “But Lily, have you really made up your mind?” “I told you from the start—this man isn’t right for you. He hasn’t cleared his heart, and being with him means you’re just hurting yourself.” “But you had to go and fall for him anyway, wouldn’t listen no matter what I said.” I lowered my eyes, stirring the coffee in my cup. “Some lessons have to be learned the hard way.”

The sky was heavy and gray. Rain started pouring without warning. My friend’s husband came to pick her up. “Didn’t I tell you not to come?” “How could I let you get caught in the rain? Lily, come with us—I’ll drop you off first.” I smiled and shook my head. “You two go ahead. I’ll sit here a bit longer.” I used to envy their genuine care and consideration for each other. Why were Ethan and I also married, yet there was always an invisible wall between us? Why? The answer was simple. He just didn’t love me enough. Yet I’d deceived myself for so long, thinking he simply didn’t know how to love. When the rain lightened, I got up to leave. I happened to see a familiar Audi pull over by the curb. The woman in the passenger seat wore a cream-colored dress, with slightly curled hair and a gentle demeanor. Ethan got out from the other side, walking this way. It seemed he was passing by and wanted to grab coffee. Seeing me, he remained expressionless, only raising an eyebrow slightly. He probably expected me to greet him first, but I just looked down at the rideshare app on my phone. Maybe I was distracted—I accidentally missed a step and twisted my ankle. Ethan glanced over again, frowning but saying nothing. He went into the café and ignored me. I endured the pain in my ankle and continued waiting for my ride. Soon, Ethan came out carrying two takeaway coffees. “Let’s go.” “Isn’t this what you wanted—for me to give you a ride?” His tone carried cold impatience. “…I didn’t.” Ethan didn’t bother arguing and simply pulled me into the car. Then he handed me one of the coffees. I didn’t take it, so he just set it aside. The entire ride was silent. The atmosphere in the car was stifling. Claire suddenly pressed her hand to her forehead. “Ethan, I think my blood sugar’s dropping. Do you have any candy?” Ethan naturally reached into the glove compartment and handed her a chocolate. “I’ve reminded you so many times, but you never learn.” Claire took it with a soft laugh. “I get too busy and forget. Good thing you’re here.” They naturally started chatting about old times—mutual acquaintances, shared experiences. Their words carried an effortless understanding. And I sat in the back seat like an out-of-place audience member. The scenery outside flew backward. We passed Fairview Park, where the giant Ferris wheel slowly turned. My first date with Ethan had been here. Legend said couples who kissed at the top would be happy forever. I’d stolen a kiss from him then. He’d stared at me for a long while. I thought it was one of our few shared sweet memories. Later I learned that Ethan’s biggest regret was never bringing Claire here to ride that Ferris wheel. Fragments of the past flashed through my drowsy mind. Mostly my one-sided expectations and his dismissiveness. I closed my eyes and fell asleep. When I opened them again, the car had stopped outside our building. Claire had gotten out at some point. Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to look at my swollen ankle, his brow furrowed. “Lily,” his voice was low, “does it have to be like this?” I looked up, confused. “If you wanted me to pick you up, you could’ve just said so. Did you really have to use such a stupid method to get my attention?” His tone was steady but carried barely detectable irritation. I didn’t know what he was irritated about. Perhaps he was annoyed that I’d interrupted his alone time with his first love. “Ethan, you’re overthinking it.” “I didn’t ask you to drive me.” He probably thought I was being stubborn and scoffed. “Oh? So what’s your plan—crawl home like this?” “I can call a cab.” I looked at him. “Ethan, I don’t need you to survive.” “I used to cling to you because I loved you. That doesn’t mean I’m helpless without you.” “Leave? Lily, try leaving and see if I’ll come begging for you back.” The man’s eyes darkened again. I had no desire to waste more words on him. Anyway, once the divorce papers reached his hands, he’d know this time I wasn’t making a scene—I was serious.

I pushed the car door open, trying to get out myself. But he got out first and scooped me up in his arms. His movements weren’t gentle, but he didn’t let me fall either. Inside, he found the medicine kit and awkwardly sprayed medication on my ankle, his expression still cold. “Don’t do this again.” I silently watched him complete this task. Ethan was always like this—giving me a slap, then a piece of candy. Hot and cold, making me second-guess myself countless times. Did he have even a shred of genuine feeling for me? Agonizing over whether someone loves you is truly stupid, yet I’d been stupid for five years. It was time to wake up. Too tired to keep guessing his thoughts, I casually said thanks. Ethan stood in front of the sofa, motionless. “Anything else?” Ethan pressed his lips together. “Don’t you have anything you want to ask me?” I shook my head calmly. Actually, I’d already checked Claire’s social media. Yesterday she’d posted on Twitter—a photo of a plane landing. The caption read “Waiting for you.” I’d scrolled through all the comments but didn’t see any trace of Ethan liking or commenting. But I knew he would go. And indeed, that’s what happened. “I’m really tired. I want to sleep.” I stood up. “I’ll sleep in the guest room tonight.” Ethan grabbed my wrist. “Lily!” Unusually, he took the initiative to explain. “Claire and I aren’t what you think.” “I picked her up this time because she just got back and isn’t familiar with the area. I was just helping out.” I made a sound of acknowledgment. “As you should.” Ethan studied my face, as if trying to find some trace of insincerity. “Lily, she and I ended a long time ago. We’re just ordinary friends now.” I nodded disinterestedly. “Got it.” Ethan pulled me into his arms, for once taking the initiative to kiss me. His burning body heat transmitted through our clothes—a warmth I’d once craved most. He knew I liked physical intimacy and thought one kiss could placate me. But I turned my head away. Ethan was clearly stunned. He completely hadn’t expected me to refuse. His expression darkened. “Lily, my patience has limits too. You’d better not push it too far.” That night we slept in separate rooms. Ethan left me the master bedroom and took the guest room himself. When I woke the next morning, the house was quiet—he’d already left. My expression remained neutral as I went to the company and submitted my resignation. If I was going to leave, I’d do it completely. I’d only stayed at this company because of Ethan anyway, to work alongside him, to have more time together. But at work, he’d hidden our marriage, saying it wouldn’t look good. Not only that, he deliberately kept his distance from me. When subordinates needed to accompany him on business trips, he never chose me. In meetings, he treated me like I was invisible. Even when I completed a major project independently, I never earned his praise. This cold attitude made colleagues think Ethan must have something against me. Or that I’d offended him privately. HR was one of the few people at the company who knew about my relationship with Ethan. “You’re leaving?” “Ethan only said to demote you, he didn’t say anything about resignation…” I froze. “Demotion?” HR nodded, looking at me with sympathy. “Your position was taken by someone parachuted in from abroad. Ethan specifically arranged it.” I felt a chill spreading through my heart. I heard my own trembling voice: “Her name—is it Claire Bennett?” “Yes, that’s the name.” I could barely stand and steadied myself against the desk. Even though I was leaving anyway, hearing this news still felt like an earth-shattering defeat. At the company, Ethan had never given me any special treatment. I’d climbed to the director position through my own abilities, step by step. And he just handed it to her.

Tonight was the company anniversary with a gala event. Before officially resigning, I still attended. At least I needed to claim my year-end bonus. In front of everyone, Ethan publicly announced Claire Bennett’s hiring on stage. He even specifically told everyone to take good care of the new colleague. People whispered: “Oh my God, is this really something our stone-faced Ethan would say?” I sat in the audience listening, dutifully applauding. Ethan’s gaze drifted toward me, as if observing my reaction. The next second, Claire beside him wobbled in her heels, and he immediately turned to steady her. Halfway through the banquet, I went to the terrace for air and heard Ethan talking with his friend. “What, another cold war with Lily?” He swirled his wine glass carelessly. “Yeah.” His friend sighed. “When will you ever take the initiative to apologize and comfort her? Girls like her are rare.” “I know.” “Then why’d you bring Claire here to humiliate Lily? This will only worsen things between you two. What if Lily really can’t take it anymore and leaves?” “She won’t.” Ethan paused, then continued with certainty, “Lily will never leave me.” He was still that confident. Thinking I’d give in like every time before. I was about to turn and leave when Claire’s voice sounded behind me. “What a coincidence. Want to have a drink together?” Claire naturally walked to my side, her tone intimate as if we were old friends. “I forgot to greet you last time. You’re Lily, right?” “Sorry for taking your position as soon as I arrived.” The remark carried a double meaning. I caught the provocation in her words and asked coldly, “Claire, are we close?” She smiled even more brightly. “I don’t know much about you, but you must know quite a bit about me, right?” I knew she must have seen my visitor record in the logs. Seeing that I still wouldn’t take the bait or show the fury she’d imagined, Claire grew unhappy and simply poured the wine in her glass onto herself, letting out a cry. The aloof man nearby immediately changed expression and rushed over. “Lily, what are you doing?” I clenched my fist but didn’t explain. I just threw the wine in my glass at his face. Amid the gasps around us, I laughed coldly. “This is what I did.” A waiter quickly brought towels. Ethan wiped the wine from his face, those eyes dark as a frozen pond watching me with inscrutable meaning. In the end, he said nothing and left the banquet with Claire. I watched their retreating figures and simply pulled out my phone to send a message. “My resignation letter and divorce papers are both on your desk.” “Remember to sign.” After sending it, I blocked and deleted his number. I went home to grab the luggage I’d already packed, discovering two tickets to Hokkaido. Did Ethan actually think that while I’d been packing these days, I was looking forward to going to see snow with him? Expressionless, I tore the ticket with my name on it in half. Without looking back, I left the city.

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When I discovered that my adoptive parents’ family had stolen my “luck,” I decided to let it all go. I started slacking off. I daydreamed in class, handed in blank exams, and voluntarily sat next to the worst student in our grade. The result? My slacking off got me accepted into Stanford, my adoptive sister didn’t even get into a community college, and my adoptive parents’ business was on the verge of bankruptcy. They knelt and begged me to try hard again. I sneered: “Move aside. Don’t block my way to inheriting a multi-million dollar fortune.” 1. After receiving another abysmal report card, I jumped into the river. Standing on the bridge, the disappointed faces of my adoptive parents flashed through my mind. They said, “Maya, why did you do so poorly again?” My adoptive sister, Chloe, sneered from the side, “You pretend to work so hard all the time, but the truth comes out during the exams.” I defended myself quietly. I wasn’t pretending. I really was trying my best. I only slept five hours a day, attended four tutoring classes on weekends, and had stacks of study materials piled high. I even memorized vocabulary words while eating and walking. But hearing this only made Chloe laugh louder. She said, “Maya, if you work so hard, why are you always at the bottom of the class?” Out of more than six hundred seniors, Chloe consistently ranked in the top three, while I was always somewhere past four hundred. To her, I was practically dead last. I had no answer, but Chloe wouldn’t let it go. “Either you’re a liar, or there’s something wrong with your brain.” She leaned in and whispered in my ear, her words feeling like a curse: “Either way, you’re just trash. What’s the point of you even being alive?” “Maya, why don’t you just die?” Later, I kept asking myself: What is the point of me being alive? My grades were terrible, nothing went right, and the people around me treated me like a jinx, avoiding me at all costs. I closed my eyes and leaped into the freezing river. 2. [Congratulations on awakening the ‘Slacker System.’ Activation successful. Wishing you a happy life where all your wishes come true.] A robotic voice echoed in my head. Just as I opened my eyes, a wave of nausea hit me. After coughing for what felt like ages, I finally felt a bit better. I looked around, my emotions a tangled mess. I didn’t die. I had learned the whole truth and awakened the Slacker System. It turned out I was originally supposed to have a happy, fulfilling life. But my adoptive parents’ family schemed to steal my “luck” (qi yun). The harder I worked, the happier they became, and the unluckier I got. I felt the [Slacker Progress Bar] in my mind. It was a metallic cylinder, with the number 0% displayed right above it. When that number hits 100%, I will get my luck back and live a normal life. A cold wind blew, and I couldn’t help but shiver, pulling my jacket tighter around me. All those agonizing memories finally made sense. My adoptive parents pushed me to study relentlessly, nearly driving me insane. It was all just to ensure Chloe got excellent grades and their business thrived. That’s why, no matter how much Chloe cried and complained about me, they insisted on keeping me around. I had begged them for familial love, but from beginning to end, they only saw me as a tool to be used. The people I thought were my family were actually the culprits who pushed me to despair. I swear I will make them pay. 3. By the time I walked home, it was already dark. My adoptive parents’ family was having dinner, laughing and talking. Seeing me walk in, they instantly went quiet. Chloe let out a cold snort: “Oh, you know how to come home? I thought you did so badly on the test you were too ashamed to show your face.” My adoptive father put on a fake smile: “Maya, it’s okay if you didn’t do well. Just try harder next time.” He looked so high and mighty, pretending to be magnanimous. They were waiting for me to apologize, to reflect on my mistakes, and to promise I would work even harder next time. Well, they were going to be disappointed. Under their watchful eyes, I walked into the kitchen, scooped a heaping bowl of rice, and sat straight down at the dining table to eat. The atmosphere grew even weirder. Chloe’s eyes widened: “How dare you sit at the table?” Right. Chloe never let me eat at the table. She said I was too much of a jinx and that eating with me would bring her bad luck. In the past, my adoptive parents always humored her, and I just swallowed my pride. But I wasn’t going to hold back anymore. “I’m hungry, so of course I’m going to eat. What, when you’re hungry, do you go eat shit? No wonder your breath stinks.” Chloe’s eyes widened even further. Glare all you want, I thought. See if your eyeballs pop out. I continued shoving the delicious, fragrant ribs into my mouth. So good. Having just walked through the gates of hell, I was feeling a lot bolder. If I wasn’t even afraid of dying, why should I be afraid of Chloe? 4. Chloe was furious. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by my adoptive father. “Maya, even if you didn’t do well, you shouldn’t take it out on your sister.” “I spent three thousand dollars to enroll you in a new tutoring center. As long as you try hard, I don’t mind spending the money.” I kept my head down and kept eating, not saying a word. On the surface, he was doing it for my own good, but deep down, he knew exactly who he was doing it for. But his words were like adding fuel to the fire for Chloe. What she hated most was how much “effort” and money my adoptive parents spent on me. If we had been at school, she would have shoved me into the trash cans by now. Ignoring Chloe’s venomous glare, I took another bite of rice and said flatly, “I’m not going.” But my adoptive father was just informing me. My unusual behavior today had exhausted his patience. “You have to go. Also, there’s a physics competition this weekend. You’re entering it with Chloe.” Ever since we were little, whatever Chloe did, I had to do too. If she took dance classes, I had to take them too. If she entered a singing competition, I had to enter too. Even for the smallest, most insignificant competitions, I had to tag along. The only difference was that she always took first place, and I was always dead last. “Dad! Why are you making this loser go again?” “I’m not going.” Chloe and I spoke at the exact same time. 5. Chloe turned her head and glared at me viciously. “A loser like you going is just a waste of a spot.” I suddenly realized that Chloe probably didn’t know about the luck-stealing scheme. Otherwise, she would be forcing me to enter the competition. In her mind, all her good grades were purely due to her own brilliance, and had absolutely nothing to do with me. She just genuinely hated me. She saw me as a jinx who brought bad luck and stole her parents’ affection. She felt fully entitled to her smooth, successful life and treated me as her personal punching bag. But Chloe, everything you have was originally mine. You stole it all from me. I sneered, put down my bowl and chopsticks, and got up to leave. As I was walking up the stairs, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Chloe, Mom told you before, even recycled cardboard can be sold for cash. A loser obviously has her uses too.” I looked back and met Chloe’s gaze. She smiled arrogantly, looking incredibly smug. I smiled too. Because the number on the [Slacker Progress Bar] had just jumped to 7%. We have plenty of time. Let’s see who has the last laugh. 6. On the day of the physics competition, my adoptive father drove Chloe and me to the testing center. He instructed Chloe: “Just focus on the exam. After you’re done, Dad will reward you with a new Macbook.” Then he turned to me with a meaningful look: “Maya, do your best.” I smiled: “Okay.” Chloe scoffed disdainfully: “Doing her best won’t help. She’s destined to be dead last.” I watched my adoptive father’s car drive away, then turned and walked in the opposite direction of the testing center. Chloe grabbed my arm: “Where are you going?” She looked at me suspiciously: “You’re not planning on skipping the exam, are you?” I shook off her hand: “Yep.” Chloe: “…” I smiled: “I hope you get a great score.” Chloe’s face turned black as coal. She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Maya, are you sick in the head?” “If I am, do you have the cure? If not, shut the hell up.” I turned and walked away, leaving Chloe cursing at me from behind. I wanted to see if Chloe could still get good grades without me there to siphon luck from. 7. I spent the whole morning wandering around the park, feeding stray cats while watching my slacker value rise to 18%. Not bad, not bad. Breaking free from the Vance family’s control is just around the corner. I hummed a tune as I walked into the school. The moment I reached my desk, my mood plummeted. My desk was covered in scribbles: Loser, Coward, Parasite… Next to the colorful writing was a crudely drawn turtle. I pulled some tissues out of my backpack and tried to wipe it off, but the marker wouldn’t budge. My desk mate watched me and suddenly said, “Stop wiping. Isn’t what’s written there pretty accurate?” I glanced at her: “Chloe told you to write this, didn’t she?” She admitted it readily: “Yeah, so what? You…” “Nothing.” I smiled at her, and while she looked completely confused, I flipped her desk over! The lid on her water bottle was open, and water spilled all over the floor. “Ah!” The loud crash of the desk hitting the floor, mixed with my desk mate’s scream, instantly drew the attention of the entire class. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Harris, had just walked in and was startled. “What is going on here?” he asked, frowning as he walked over. I spoke before my desk mate could: “I want to change seats.” Mr. Harris’s frown deepened until it looked like it could crush a fly. “You are always causing trouble. Your grades are terrible, and you’re always getting into conflicts with your classmates. Tell me, who would even want to sit next to you?” Mr. Harris spoke loudly, but no one in the class made a sound. It was true. Who would want to sit next to a loser who brought bad luck? Besides, who would dare risk offending Chloe, who had great grades and a wealthy family, just for me? 8. My desk mate’s eyes were full of schadenfreude. She was probably already plotting how to make my life miserable later. I had to change seats. I simply picked up my desk and moved it to the very back row. If no one wanted to sit with me, I’d just sit by myself. But Mr. Harris looked at me strangely: “You want to sit next to Julian?” Before I could answer, the whole class erupted. “Maya wants to sit next to the school delinquent?” “Is she crazy? Julian never lets anyone sit next to him. I heard the last guy who tried was bullied into transferring schools.” Julian, the school delinquent, was notorious for his explosive temper and for being someone you did not want to mess with. He was always late, always leaving early, and his grades were at the very bottom. Rumor had it he put a classmate in the hospital, but his family paid to cover it up. The teachers were afraid to discipline him, and the students were even more terrified of him. The back row was very empty. The delinquent’s desk sat isolated in a large, open space. Uh, even though I wanted to be a slacker, I didn’t want a death wish. Just as I was about to say never mind, the back door creaked open. I turned my head and saw Julian walking in. 9. Julian’s arrival pushed the tension to a boiling point. I watched helplessly as he walked into the classroom and glanced at me when he reached his desk. Everyone’s eyes darted between the two of us. I even heard someone whisper, “Is Julian going to kick Maya across the room?” My desk was still a foot away from his. I shouldn’t… get kicked across the room, right? But to my surprise, Julian just sat down with a cold expression and didn’t say a single word. At first, I was pretty nervous, terrified that the delinquent would get annoyed and turn into Chloe 2.0. But later I noticed he just slept during class. Occasionally, he’d pull out an advanced physics textbook and scribble in it. I finally relaxed. It seemed the delinquent was actually quite reasonable. I felt bad for even comparing him to Chloe; that was an insult to him. While I was lost in thought, Mr. Harris called on me: “Maya, pay attention in class. Your grades are already terrible. Aren’t you embarrassed if you don’t even try?” The class erupted in laughter. In their eyes, I was probably just a worthless loser who had completely given up. But this was exactly what I wanted. 10. That afternoon after school, I watched Chloe get into the family’s Maybach and drive off. Of course, that was Chloe’s “private car,” and I wasn’t allowed to ride in it. According to my adoptive parents’ schedule, I should be heading to the fifth tutoring center I was newly enrolled in, finishing up around 11:00 PM, and then walking home. I’d be working harder than a rented mule. I rolled my eyes and walked straight into a Korean BBQ place I had been craving for a long time but never had the chance to try. The BBQ was delicious, and my slacker value kept rising, eventually stopping at 28%. Today’s achievements were quite remarkable. I felt pretty good about myself. But my good mood came to a screeching halt the moment I walked through the front door. My adoptive parents were sitting on the sofa, waiting for me, and they didn’t look happy. Sigh, this family is really a buzzkill. 11. I wiped the smile off my face and put on my usual submissive expression. Then I ignored them and headed straight for the stairs. That’s when my adoptive mother spoke up: “Maya, come here. We need to talk.” I didn’t move. I just asked what they wanted. My adoptive father frowned, clearly dissatisfied with my rebellious behavior. “Maya, you’ve been making a lot of mistakes lately. First, you talked back to your sister, and now you’re not listening to your parents either. I used to think you were a good kid. Even though your grades weren’t great, you worked hard. Why is your character getting worse and worse?” He then listed my “crimes” one by one, including but not limited to talking back to the homeroom teacher, changing seats without permission, sitting next to the worst student in the grade, and skipping tutoring. Blah, blah, blah. He delivered his final verdict: “Maya, you need to reflect on your actions. Write a ten-thousand-word apology letter.” I raised an eyebrow slightly: “Really? Chloe is the one who needs to write an apology letter. She struts around school acting like a tyrant…” My adoptive father yelled: “She is your sister!” “Not by blood.” I added calmly: “And neither are you.” “Chloe called me a parasite, but I think there are three vampires living in this house.” My adoptive parents looked shocked and uneasy, clearly guilty. I snorted and turned around to see Chloe standing on the stairs in an evening gown. Ugh, so annoying. I just glanced at her, and Chloe immediately started showing off: “Mom had this dress custom-made for me. Jealous?” “I’m performing a solo dance at the school anniversary gala. Liam, the most popular guy in school, is playing the piano for me. And the principal is going to publicly commend me for getting first place in the physics competition.” Chloe smiled smugly and arrogantly: “A loser like you will probably never have a chance like this in your next life.” 12. It was clear the Vance family was taking this opportunity very seriously. They even had a high-end designer gown made and hired a photographer to follow her around, determined to steal the spotlight. On stage, Liam played the piano, and Chloe performed her solo dance under the spotlight. I heard a classmate next to me whisper in admiration: “Liam and Chloe look so good together! Both gorgeous and both top students…” In the audience, my adoptive parents were accepting compliments from other parents, smiling so wide they looked like blooming flowers. “Your daughter is truly outstanding. Not only is she beautiful, but she’s also incredibly talented. I heard she even got first place in the physics competition?” My adoptive mother’s eyes crinkled so much you could barely see them: “Oh, well, they haven’t announced the results yet, but I’m sure she got first…” The Dean of Students chimed in, kissing up to them: “Chloe is an exceptional student. She’ll definitely take first place.” I looked at Chloe on stage and felt sick to my stomach. Two years ago, Chloe and I both made it to the final four in a dance competition. But the day before the finals, she pushed me down a flight of stairs. As a result, I broke my leg, and Chloe took third place. Afterward, my adoptive parents just brushed it off, saying Chloe didn’t do it on purpose and telling me to be the bigger person. Just like they clearly knew Chloe bullied me at school but chose to turn a blind eye. 13. After the performances came the awards ceremony. The Vice Principal walked onto the stage to read the list of commended students. Chloe’s name wasn’t there. I sneered inwardly as a murmur spread through the students. A parent nearby asked in surprise: “Why isn’t Chloe’s name on the list?” My adoptive parents, who had been holding their heads high with pride, suddenly looked very uncomfortable. My adoptive father frowned and asked: “Did they accidentally skip her name?” The Vice Principal might be old and have bad eyesight, but his hearing was perfectly fine. And, he was quite petty. He glanced at my adoptive father, read the list again with a straight face, and then shook the paper, as if saying, See? It’s really not here. The gesture was so comical I actually laughed out loud. That laugh was like adding fuel to the fire for my adoptive father. He snapped at the sweating Dean of Students: “I suspect foul play. There is no way Chloe isn’t on that list.” But the Vice Principal was even more blunt: “Well, she isn’t! Chloe scored dead last!” As soon as he said that, the entire auditorium erupted. 14. The Vice Principal was truly furious. Our school ranked among the top two in the state, and we had never had such a terrible score in a competition before. The Dean of Students invited my adoptive parents backstage, and they angrily called me to come with them. When we went in, Chloe was crying and hugging Liam. When she saw me walk in, she hugged him even tighter, looking like she wanted to be glued to him. The Dean of Students coughed awkwardly, and Liam pushed Chloe away. My adoptive parents, however, acted as if they didn’t even notice their daughter hugging a boy. Right now, they only cared about the competition results. “Mr. Zhang, what exactly is going on here?” The Dean’s expression grew even more awkward: “Um… Chloe’s name really isn’t on the list… there was no mistake. They double-checked the exams when the scores came out. There’s definitely no issue…” My adoptive father raised his voice: “Mr. Zhang, you have to give us a reasonable explanation. Chloe has always been in the top three of her class. It’s impossible for her to score that poorly, unless…” He paused and turned his gaze to me. “Maya, you went and took the physics competition exam, didn’t you?” I met his gaze and heard Chloe’s shrill voice. “She didn’t! Dad, she didn’t go. She must have sabotaged me!” My adoptive father ignored her, staring fixedly at me: “Maya, answer my question. Did you take the competition exam?” I took a deep breath and met his eyes. “No.” 15. A deathly silence fell over the backstage area. Liam and the Dean of Students were shocked by the word “Dad,” looking back and forth between me and the Vance family in astonishment. My adoptive parents’ faces turned a sickly green, while Chloe looked completely bewildered. After a long pause, my adoptive father finally spoke through gritted teeth: “Very well… Maya, you actually dare to rebel. It seems we’ve been too lenient with you.” “We raised you all this time, and you turn out to be an ungrateful wretch.” “Get on your knees and apologize!” I coldly watched his furious, humiliated display: “What did I do wrong?” “Was I wrong for not letting Chloe bully me? Or was I wrong for not letting you siphon my life away?” My adoptive father’s face flushed bright red with anger. Just as I thought he was going to hit me, a weak voice broke the silence: “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt…” We all looked over and saw a student peeking out from behind the curtain. He pointed at the piano and whispered: “Um, the microphone on the piano is still on…” 16. The fact that Chloe and I were sisters quickly spread throughout the entire school. The impact was no less than dropping a nuclear bomb. After all, who in the entire senior class didn’t know that Chloe hated me? Every time report cards came out, she would publicly humiliate me. She called me a loser, a jinx, saying anyone who got close to me would be cursed with bad luck, which led to me being isolated by the whole school. Now, Chloe was throwing a tantrum and refusing to come to school, so my adoptive parents got her a long-term medical leave. Without her there, the air at school felt fresher. And my slacker progress bar was almost halfway full. I was in a great mood, feeling like my life was looking up. What’s more, I had made my first friend— I poked Julian’s arm: “Hey, let me tutor you.” After becoming desk mates with Julian, I discovered that he wasn’t the ruthless delinquent the rumors made him out to be. He was clearly just a quiet, misanthropic teenager. Correction: a handsome, good-tempered, but quiet, misanthropic teenager. Julian looked up from his comic book, his expression complicated: “Are you joking?” I blinked. Was Julian looking down on me? As my slacker progress bar had been rising, my luck had improved significantly. At the very least, I didn’t suffer any sudden “illnesses” during exams and was able to comfortably finish my papers. My class ranking slowly climbed from past 400 to around 200. Although it wasn’t high, it was certainly better than Julian’s zero-point exams, right? “You always bring me breakfast. I have to repay you.” Julian looked a bit uncomfortable: “No need.” Julian was great in every way, except his misanthropy was too strong. I racked my brain for a bunch of reasons to persuade him when I suddenly heard someone calling my name. “Maya, Mr. Harris wants to see you in his office.” 17. As I walked to the office door, I heard my adoptive mother’s voice. “Mr. Zhang, I heard the results of this midterm exam are tied to college recommendation spots?” “Yes, Chloe’s past grades have been excellent. As long as she performs normally this time, getting a recommendation will definitely be no problem.” “Mr. Zhang, Chloe is always outstanding. I’m not worried about her.” My adoptive mother let out a long sigh and continued: “The main issue is Maya. She’s been very rebellious lately. She won’t listen to anything her father and I say, and she’s caused a lot of trouble for the school.” “Since the child is struggling, we hope you can keep an eye on her. This midterm exam is very important, and she absolutely must participate.” “Oh, you’re being too polite! It’s truly a parent’s heavy burden! I will definitely make sure Maya takes the midterm exam. I’ll personally watch her walk into the testing room.” I pushed the door open and walked in. My adoptive mother was shoving a gift bag into the Dean’s hands. Both of them froze when they saw me. I walked straight over and sat on the sofa: “It’s fine. Don’t mind me. Keep giving gifts, keep taking them.” The Dean’s face turned red and pale alternately, and he let out two awkward laughs. My adoptive mother put the gift bag under the desk: “What nonsense are you talking about?” Then she handed another gift bag to me: “I bought this for you.” My adoptive mother wasn’t good at trying to please me. Her smile was as stiff as a mannequin’s. I frowned and looked at her: “Stop smiling. You’re scaring me.” She immediately dropped her smile and shot a look at the Dean of Students. The Dean understood immediately. “Um, Maya, the teacher called you here to talk about your recent behavior. Let’s put the competition behind us. The teacher will just assume you were under too much pressure. The midterm is coming up, and you need to work hard.” The two of them went back and forth, but it boiled down to one thing: I had to take this midterm. “Got it.” I couldn’t be bothered to listen anymore and stood up. My adoptive mother’s eyes were full of expectation and calculation. I smiled slightly: “I will take the midterm.” If they wanted to use me to pave the way for Chloe’s future, they shouldn’t blame me for becoming the “stumbling block” on their path. 18. I don’t know how much my adoptive parents bribed the Dean of Students. On the day of the midterm, he watched me walk into the testing room and stood by the door for a good while, only leaving satisfied when he saw me start writing. During the six exams, he showed up six times, thoroughly confusing the proctor and making me a target of intense scrutiny. Let him watch. I was as calm as could be. He was standing too far away anyway. He couldn’t see that I was writing all the answers on scratch paper. … When I walked out of the school gates, I immediately saw Chloe and my adoptive parents. Chloe was holding a bouquet of flowers, surrounded by her lackeys, looking arrogant as if she had just won a war. My adoptive mother asked with a smile: “Chloe, how do you think you did this time?” Chloe looked smug: “I thought the questions were very easy. I’ll definitely take first place.” Her lackeys immediately hyped her up: “Chloe, you’re amazing! A lot of people said the questions were super hard this time.” “Yeah, Chloe is just too good.” They were making a lot of noise, bursting into laughter every now and then. The commotion attracted reporters who were interviewing students at the gate. They pointed their cameras at Chloe: “Excuse me, could we interview you?” Chloe proudly lifted her chin and said elegantly: “Sure.” “I heard you say the questions were easy this time. May I ask which school you’re from? How are your usual grades?” Chloe answered, and her lackeys chimed in, painting a glorious picture, basically hyping Chloe up like a goddess from heaven. My adoptive parents got in the shot too. When the reporter asked how they raised such an outstanding daughter, my adoptive father spoke with a proud tone: “Of course, it’s because our family has good genes. And Chloe is very hardworking. Talent plus hard work leads to success.” I watched in amazement. What a shameless family. Chloe noticed me standing in the crowd. Her smile froze for a second, but then she smiled even more arrogantly: “Some people are just born without the brains for studying, so they shouldn’t waste their effort. They’d be better off dropping out early and doing manual labor. At least they’d be contributing to society.”

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I was the craziest actress in Hollywood. Because I was bound to a “Superstar System.” If I didn’t focus on my career, the system would literally make me explode! 1 Other people come to Hollywood to be movie stars. I came to be a Special Forces operative. [886 photos posted, 3 dance studio videos, 2 recording studio videos, and 8 daily vlogs in two months. Is Chloe Thorne in Hollywood to be a Navy SEAL?] [That’s not all! My girl Chloe has 3 upcoming movies, 2 reality shows in the pipeline, and zero scandals since her debut. I heard she’s starting a new shoot tomorrow. I seriously suspect she has a system.] When my agent, Monica, read those two top comments out loud, I was right in the middle of picking the script for my next project. “Chloe, you’ve been working non-stop since you debuted the year before last. Don’t you want to take a few months off this year?” Monica advised me. I wanted to rest too, but if I rested, my system would throw a fit. It would kill me. That’s right! I actually have a system. Ever since the finale night of the talent show, I was automatically bound to the “Superstar System.” The main quest of the “Superstar System” is: [Win the Academy Award for Best Actress within three years.] [Quest Success: Reward of $800 billion.] [Quest Failure: Explode and die.] [Please note: While progressing through the main quest, side quests will be randomly triggered.] Tell me, do I dare to rest? “No,” I refused decisively. “Monica, didn’t director James Cameron send over a script? Why don’t I see it?” Monica pursed her lips: “The female lead for Cameron’s project has already been decided.” “It’s Olivia Vance.” Olivia Vance. My former teammate from the limited-time girl group that had already disbanded. On the night of the finale, I beat Olivia by a single vote. Olivia was a product of capital; she had numerous financial backers behind her. They were supposed to guarantee her first place, but I came out of nowhere. I had too many organic votes from the public, so many that even the organizers couldn’t suppress them. So I debuted in first place, and she took second. For the past two years, she had been secretly competing with me. Although she stole quite a few leading roles from me, unfortunately, the persona her backers gave her was the “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood.” Therefore, her acting roles were limited, and I could still snatch some good scripts that slipped through her fingers. But this movie by James Cameron, Shadows, I absolutely would not yield to her. Because two months ago, I completed my third side quest. The system gave me a crucial piece of information. James Cameron’s movie Shadows will be nominated for the 78th Academy Awards, and the actress playing the female lead will win Best Actress. Which means—the Oscar. The 78th Academy Awards ceremony is in December of this year, exactly the third year of my main quest’s time limit. I had to get the female lead role in Shadows, even if it killed me. “Monica, is Director Cameron in L.A. right now? I want to invite him to dinner.” Monica paused for a moment: “Director Cameron has a dinner meeting with Olivia at 9 PM tonight.” I frowned: “Monica, if I hadn’t asked, were you not planning to tell me?” “Chloe, you’ve developed too fast these past two years.” “The agency talked to me a couple of days ago. They want you to rest for a year, slow down your pace.” Understood. Olivia was applying pressure. Unable to keep up with my pace, she could only resort to such despicable methods to force me to stop. “Monica, you should be able to get the address for Director Cameron’s dinner tonight, right?” Monica remained silent for a long time, picked up her phone, and forwarded me a location pin. 2 At 9:15 PM. Wearing stilettos, I pushed open the door to VIP Room 1. When Olivia saw me, she was visibly surprised. “Director Cameron, what is the meaning of this?” “You invite me to dinner and call…” Before Olivia could finish her sentence, I threw a glass of water right in her face. “Bitch! You homewrecker, I’ll teach you to steal my man!” Olivia was stunned, frozen in place. I followed up with slap after slap to her face. Slapping her cheeks bright red. “I saw you and David coming out of the hotel!” “Do I have to catch you in bed to get you to admit you’re a homewrecker?” “Chloe Thorne! Are you crazy?” “What homewrecker?” “Is there something wrong with your brain?” Olivia, finally reacting, covered her face, her eyes red, feeling incredibly wronged. I calmed myself down and sat down next to Olivia. I grabbed her hand and apologized sincerely. “Sorry, Olivia. I made you act out a scene with me without you knowing.” “But, your acting seems a bit rusty.” Olivia was furious. She shook off my hand and glared at me viciously: “Who knew you were acting?” I looked at James Cameron, who was sitting there perfectly composed, with a hint of surprise in my tone: “Director Cameron, is this the female lead you chose?” “A female lead who doesn’t even remember the highlight scene from the script?” James Cameron took a deep breath, looking up at me: “Chloe, there’s no denying your acting is very good, and you fit the female lead in Shadows perfectly.” “But Olivia is the female lead designated by the investors. I have no choice.” “Also, who showed you the script for Shadows?” “I did.” Before I could answer, someone else beat me to it. The door to the private room was pushed open again, and a broad silhouette appeared along with a cold, deep voice. “Has Director Cameron considered changing investors?” We both looked in the direction of the voice. James Cameron immediately stood up, a hint of trepidation in his voice: “Mr., Mr. Sterling?” “What brings you here?” Arthur Sterling smoothly sat down next to me, his expression nonchalant: “Ms. Thorne asked me to come, so I came.” Arthur Sterling. The most powerful and influential businessman in the New York elite circle. He started from nothing and single-handedly crushed all the flourishing enterprises in the city during his prime. He fought his way out from among thousands of companies. To this day, he can command the wind and rain in any circle. In the sixth month after my debut night, I triggered the first side quest. The quest was: Within three months, fan engagement must reach 80%, and New York elite Arthur Sterling must actively initiate the strategy process towards you. Actively initiate the strategy process? Meaning, fall in love with me? I stayed up all night researching “Arthur Sterling.” When I found out he had half the entertainment industry in the palm of his hand, I posted 88 beautiful photos for marketing the very next day. For those three months, I trended countless times and was active on Twitter almost 24/7. Under my diligent efforts, finally, in the third month, the task was completed. That night, I received a call from an unknown number: “Is this Ms. Chloe Thorne?” “Mr. Sterling would like to invite you to dinner.” “I’m sorry, my schedule is full recently. Please contact my agent.” Yes, I refused. Even though latching onto Arthur meant I would never have to worry about resources for the rest of my life. But there was a rumor that Arthur once had a girlfriend who was kept like a caged bird. After getting together with Arthur, she was restricted from taking intimate scenes and couldn’t interact with any opposite sex. I couldn’t do that. I wasn’t willing to give up my career to become someone else’s accessory. After that day, I found an opportunity. I met Arthur on a very formal occasion. It was when I won my first Best Singer award, and it was also the first time Arthur, as the organizer, came to present an award to a singer. I knew with my eyes closed that Arthur was there for me. On the glittering stage, he personally handed the shining golden trophy into my hands. I bowed slightly, leaning close to his ear: “Mr. Sterling, I’m sorry, I really couldn’t make time last time.” “You know, other people come to Hollywood to be female stars, but I came to be a Special Forces operative.” “Can I buy you dinner next time?” Arthur looked up and met my eyes for a second: “On call, anytime.” 3 The next time I contacted Arthur was exactly 1 hour before arriving at the private room. I called him from the production van. “Is this Mr. Sterling?” “Ms. Thorne, it is.” “Are you free tonight? For dinner?” “I can be.” “Then,” I was a little nervous, “Would you mind if I used you for a bit?” The other end of the line went silent for a few seconds. Then, a deep male voice sounded: “Let’s hear it.” I told Arthur my entire plan. Two minutes after hanging up, he sent a file and two voice messages: — Shadows.docx — “I’m not in the city; I’ll arrive a few minutes later than you.” — “Call me if anything happens.” Arthur wasn’t in the city? He was out of town? And he rushed back for me? I admit, in that moment, I was nervous. “Director Cameron, does the industry really not care about acting skills anymore?” Arthur’s gaze was cold, his voice lazy but carrying a hint of sarcasm. “Mr. Sterling, I can’t decide this either.” “If I don’t use the actor they designated, the investors will pull their funding, and I won’t be able to shoot this movie.” James Cameron frantically explained to Arthur. Olivia, sitting next to me, started to look uncomfortable, her face showing distress. After all, no one in all of New York didn’t fear Arthur. “I’ll have them withdraw their investment. I’ll take over.” “The opening ceremony is set for tomorrow.” “The female lead is Chloe Thorne.” The business was handled before we even ate. When Arthur does things, he really is all about high efficiency and cutting the crap. “Good! Good!” “I was planning to send the script to Chloe anyway.” “If she isn’t the female lead, this movie of mine really would be ruined.” James Cameron hurriedly agreed with Arthur, kissing up to me. Arthur ignored him, casually checking the watch on his wrist. Then, he leaned in, close to my ear, and whispered: “I have something to do. I’m leaving first.” The warm breath brushed my ear, making it feel hot. I thought since Arthur had done me such a huge favor, he would definitely ask for something in return. I had even prepared my excuse for politely declining him tonight. But he just left without another word. It seems that in this high society blinded by money and luxury, there are still people who live with clear heads. 4 After Arthur left, I held Olivia’s hand again, pretending to be sympathetic: “I’m sorry, Olivia. Director Cameron said you weren’t up to par.” “I’ll be taking this female lead role.” “Oh, and I forgot to tell you.” “There was only one slap in the script. The rest were payback for the stunt double on your last movie.” Olivia had a slapping scene in her last movie too. She could have easily gotten it right in one or two takes, but she intentionally messed up over a dozen times. It caused the stunt double to suffer soft tissue damage to her face. Most importantly, this stunt double wasn’t just anybody. She was the one who debuted in 9th place the year we did, our former teammate. The “Only Pure White Jasmine in Hollywood” sure was pure white. Olivia was furious, but she didn’t dare raise a hand to hit me. Because with her fragile little frame, she absolutely couldn’t beat me. She could only resort to insulting me with her words resentfully: “Chloe, you speak as if you’re so much nobler than me!” “I have financial backers, don’t you too?” “Did he just whisper in your ear to go wait for him at the hotel and tell you to hurry up?” “Arthur did you such a huge favor.” “Aren’t you going to get played to death tonight?” I sneered: “Olivia, everyone in the industry knows you have a suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower.” “Every Tuesday night, the lights on the top floor stay on all night.” “Whenever I got off work late and passed by there, I used to think, as a fellow woman, if I had enough power, I definitely wouldn’t let you become a plaything for capital.” Olivia didn’t seem to fully grasp what I was saying. “What do you mean?” I changed my tone, unable to hide the smirk on my lips: “But then I thought about it, it seems no one forced you back then.” “You proactively climbed into the beds of those executives yourself.” “Looks like you brought it upon yourself.” Olivia went crazy. She grabbed whatever was on the table and threw it at me. I quickly stepped back, dodging her attack. “Olivia, you’re still exactly the same as you were back in the factory. When you lose an argument, you just go crazy.” Teaching her a little lesson was enough; I didn’t plan on dragging out the fight. So I shifted my gaze to James Cameron: “Director Cameron, I will be on time for the opening ceremony tomorrow.” “I hope we have a pleasant collaboration.” As I left, I heard James Cameron sigh: “Olivia, why did you have to provoke her?” 5 After that day, Arthur never contacted me again. I was pressed for time and the tasks were heavy. Operating on the principle of “less is more,” I didn’t actively contact Arthur either. The shooting schedule for Shadows was set for 4 months, and 3 months had already flown by. The shooting progress was very smooth. I figured it must be under Arthur’s protection. The last month was entirely outdoor location shoots. Today was a scene where I fell off a cliff by the ocean. I had to jump into the sea from an 8-story-high cliff. Even though I had wire protection, in this stormy weather, I was still a little nervous. [Scene one, take one.] The moment the clapperboard snapped, filming officially began. Wearing a white wedding dress, I looked at the camera with tear-filled eyes, then ran desperately towards the edge of the cliff. The rain mixed with the tears on my face. The moment I leaped over the cliff and soared through the air, the entire movie was elevated to its climax. But, when this perfect take finally ended, what welcomed me wasn’t the director’s praise and the crew’s cheers, but the freezing, bone-chilling seawater. I don’t know what went wrong with the wire, but the moment I lost my balance— It snapped. Before I could even call for help, I was knocked unconscious by the waves. … When I was about to slip into nothingness, I heard someone calling me: “Chloe!” “Chloe!!” His voice was strange yet familiar. I wanted to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt so heavy. Ultimately, I couldn’t open my eyes. I only heard him gently say in my ear: “Chloe, you must stay safe.” 6 When I woke up again, I was in a psychiatric hospital. My hands and feet were tied to a hospital bed. “Is anyone there?” “Why am I tied up?” “Monica! Monica!” … I yelled for a long time before a nurse in a white coat finally came in. “What are you yelling for?” “You can leave when you’re cured. If you don’t cooperate, we’ll give you a sedative.” “I’m not sick!” “Who diagnosed me? I just had a little accident on set. There’s nothing wrong with my brain!” “Let me make a phone call; I’ll have someone come pick me up!” The doctor in the white coat sneered: “See, you’re talking nonsense already, and you still say you aren’t sick.” Then, she slammed a file she was holding onto the table next to me: “Who told you to offend someone you shouldn’t have?” “The boss said, if you sign this agreement, you can leave immediately.” “Otherwise, stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of your life.” “What agreement?” I stopped struggling and forced myself to calm down. The doctor untied my hands and feet. I picked up the agreement and laughed in anger when I saw the name of the first party. The person who set this trap for me was the backer behind Olivia, the chairman of the Pegasus Group—Marcus Pegasus. This agreement laid out three demands. After my contract with my current agency expires, I will sign with Pegasus Entertainment. In any resource conflict between me and Olivia, I will unconditionally yield to her. I must visit the suite on the top floor of the Pegasus Tower once a week. My hand clutching the agreement tightened inch by inch. This wasn’t an agreement; this was an insult. I tore the agreement to shreds and threw it in the doctor’s face. “Tell Chairman Pegasus, I’d rather die than submit.” The doctor scoffed: “Doing it the hard way, I see.” I had been in the psychiatric hospital for a week. Aside from the doctors on routine rounds, I hadn’t seen anyone else. Logically, if my agent Monica couldn’t find me, she would have called the police that very day. What’s more, I had so many dedicated fans and was under intense public scrutiny. How many people had Marcus Pegasus bought off? What exactly was the situation outside right now? Taking a step back, the investor for this movie was Arthur Sterling. How did Marcus Pegasus dare to make a move on me? Could it be that something happened to Arthur? Then who was the person speaking in my ear after I fell off the cliff? … The more I thought about it, the more confused I became. I frustratingly ran my hands through my hair. “System, System!” I called out in my mind. I wanted to ask this “Superstar System” if I was still on track with the main quest. I felt like if this kept up, I wouldn’t become a superstar. I’d become a super psycho. I called out to the system dozens of times, but didn’t hear a single response. Could it be that after the fall, it automatically detached from my body? I didn’t know… My head hurt so much it felt like it was going to explode. 7 Another week passed, and I finally found a way out. The window in the hospital room bathroom was a little loose. I used a chair to smash the latch open. At 2 AM, I climbed out the window in the dark. The whole building was terrifyingly quiet. Looking around, I realized I was the only one on this floor. The night was a bit cold, and the eerie wind blew straight into my hospital gown. I hunched my shoulders and ran towards the first floor with steady, light steps. I figured that once I escaped this hellhole, I would immediately borrow a passerby’s phone to post on Twitter. As long as I stirred up public opinion, Marcus Pegasus wouldn’t dare act so recklessly again. But imagination is beautiful, and reality is harsh. When I reached the first floor, I looked at the main door secured with three padlocks, and a deep sense of powerlessness washed over me. I circled the first floor again and again. When I confirmed that this was the only exit, I felt a bit desperate. I walked back the way I came, step by step, but every floor was sealed with a grid of wire mesh security grilles. Just like that, I climbed all the way to the top floor. One door on the top floor wasn’t locked. I pushed the door open and walked to the edge of the parapet under the dim light. I climbed onto the parapet and sat on it. The view from the top floor was excellent. Looking up, I could see the city lights in the distance and a sky full of stars. Looking down, I could see my bottomless, uncertain future. After trying so hard for so long, it seemed that with my own strength, I still couldn’t fight against capital. Now there were only two paths laid out before me: Either become Marcus Pegasus’s plaything and money-making tool, or jump from this 8th floor and end it all. Either way, I was not going to stay in this psychiatric hospital for the rest of my life. Actually, I already had an answer in my heart. There was only one path I could take. Just jump! Otherwise, if I’m discovered later, I won’t even be able to die if I wanted to. I placed my hands on the parapet and stood up. [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [DANGER ALERT!] [Detecting suicidal tendencies in the host. The system is about to detach from the host’s body.] Hearing the voice inside me, I smiled self-deprecatingly: “So you’re still here. Since even you can’t resolve this situation, it looks like my quest really has reached its end.” “System, next time find a host with a bit more capability!” “Don’t end up with an ending like mine.” I closed my eyes, and tears slipped from my eyelashes. “Chloe!” Just as I was about to jump from the roof, a roar pulled me back from the brink of death. This voice was exactly the same as the one I heard when I fell off the cliff. I turned towards the sound and saw a helicopter hovering above the roof. It slowly descended and landed steadily. I clearly saw the person sprinting out of the helicopter. “Arthur?” While I was still in a daze, he had already pulled me down from the parapet. “I’m sorry, I dragged you into this,” he apologized to me in a low voice. I looked up and caught a glimpse of the powerlessness in his eyes. Whether in public or private, I had never seen him look so defeated. “It’s okay.” “It’s going to be okay.” “Everything will be okay.” I comforted him with three sentences in a row. Actually, it wasn’t just to comfort him; it was also to comfort myself. Arthur carried me onto the helicopter. The helicopter took off, taking me away from this torturous place. 8 Rain pattered against the helicopter windows, and the cabin was deathly quiet. “What happened? Tell me,” I spoke first. A cynical smile leaked from the corner of Arthur’s mouth: “I was set up.” I learned from Arthur that three months ago, he was backstabbed by his best friend. Problems kept popping up in his company one after another. The night I called him, he was in a neighboring city dealing with the company’s financial issues. For the past three months, he had been flying non-stop domestically and internationally, drinking glass after glass at business dinners. Despite such difficulties, he still helped me secure Shadows. Hearing this, I was somewhat moved. I, who swore to only focus on my career and forsake love, actually felt a pang of sympathy. I thought, if I hadn’t completed the side quest concerning Arthur back then, would he not have encountered all this? Arthur said Marcus Pegasus wanted to acquire all properties under his name. He refused, so Marcus Pegasus reached his claws out to me. The issue with my wire happened because Marcus Pegasus had someone tamper with it. When he received the video of my fall sent by Marcus Pegasus, Arthur was on his way to the airport. He said thank god, thank god he arrived in time. After giving me CPR, I regained consciousness. I gently touched my lips. CPR? I had absolutely no memory of it. Arthur said that when he saw I had regained consciousness and noticed my agent Monica nearby, he left. He originally thought Marcus Pegasus’s revenge ended there. Who knew all he wanted was more than just to give Arthur a warning. He also wanted my life. It seems even Monica had been bought off by him. I also told Arthur about what happened in the psychiatric hospital over the past two weeks. When he heard about the agreement, I could see the anger practically overflowing from Arthur’s eyes. “How much longer can you hold out at the latest?” I asked, counting the days. “Right now, the cash flow is completely broken. I can hold out until the end of the year, at the absolute most.” “That’s enough,” I said, falling silent for a moment. “You must wait for me. I’ll figure something out.” Arthur kept his head down and said softly: “Chloe, with your profession, you can’t earn the capital I need.” “Trust me.” I looked at him with a firm gaze. Arthur didn’t speak. We fell into silence once again, each preoccupied with our own thoughts. A long while later, I noticed the helicopter was about to enter the airspace over New York. “Where are we going?” I asked. “My house,” Arthur replied. “No, let’s go to the White Mansion Villas.” Arthur and I exchanged a look: “That’s…” “Monica’s house,” I interjected. Arthur frowned involuntarily: “Monica has already been bought off by Marcus Pegasus. If you go to her…” “I have leverage on her,” I paused for two seconds. “I need a phone.” Arthur blinked, didn’t ask further, and handed over his own phone. “Passcode,” I asked softly. “0207.” My eyelashes fluttered slightly. February 7th, my birthday. After unlocking the phone, I logged out of his ID and logged into my own. I should be thankful that I had backed up all the evidence back then. “Can I open your photo album?” I asked for permission beforehand, afraid of invading Arthur’s privacy. Arthur’s gaze fell on my face. After a long pause, he said: “You may.” With his permission, I opened the photo album, and pictures of me came into view one by one. If these weren’t all photos taken from a third-person perspective, I would have thought my own selfies had all synced over. Unable to contain my curiosity, I clicked on a few photos. This one is… The debut night two years ago. This one is… The set of my first web drama. But at this time, I hadn’t triggered the first side quest yet. I snapped my head up and looked at Arthur. His gaze had long since shifted away from me, looking out the window. Could it be that he fell in love with me not because of the reward after I completed the quest? “Arthur, when did you start liking me?” I asked, my voice carrying a barely perceptible tremor. “Very early. A very long time ago.”

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