My husband’s first love suddenly had a depressive episode and jumped from a building. In a fit of rage, he dragged me, eight months pregnant, to a drop tower ride, ordering someone to forcibly strap me in. “If you hadn’t deliberately provoked Scarlett, why would she have a depressive episode and jump?” Suffering from acrophobia, I tearfully apologized to him, begged him to let me go, and promised I would never appear before Scarlett again. But he just shook his head coldly. “Evelyn, for the sake of the child, I won’t divorce you.” “But the pain you caused Scarlett, I’ll make you repay it a hundred, a thousand times over!” He had them set the ride to run for an hour, then turned and left. As the drop tower slowly climbed higher, I struggled and screamed in terror. The moment my body lost all sense of gravity, a warm gush of fluid rushed out of me. Three days later, he finally remembered me, still suspended on the drop tower. “Evelyn, Scarlett is fine now. If you kneel and apologize to her, I’ll let you down.” What he didn’t know was that the high-flying drop tower was already drenched in blood, and the child he had long anticipated had been violently thrown from my body, reduced to a bloody mess…

“This morning, Dr. Miller called me. He said that woman didn’t go for her prenatal check-up. What new trick is she trying to pull to get my attention?” Asher Thorne spoke, his brows tightly furrowed, a flicker of disgust in his eyes. Mr. Henderson, the old butler standing by, paled slightly and spoke with a trembling voice, “Sir, Madam… I don’t think she’s been let down yet. And Madam has acrophobia; she doesn’t even dare go out onto the second-floor balcony normally. She’s also in her late pregnancy. What if something happens?” Hearing this, Asher’s expression paused, then he asked, puzzled, “Is that so? Evelyn has acrophobia?” Without waiting for the butler to finish, he waved his hand dismissively, “It’s just a drop tower, not a real jump. Let her feel scared; maybe then she won’t bully Scarlett again.” At this, the old butler dared not say more. The amusement park manager, however, couldn’t help but interject, “But three days ago, Madam was crying hysterically at first, and then there was no sound at all. She’s carrying your child, sir; that’s your flesh and blood. Don’t you want to check on Madam…?” Asher’s expression instantly shifted from understanding to contempt. “I knew she was faking her acrophobia. How else could she make no sound at all while sitting on a drop tower? Evelyn is as calculating as ever. Fine, let her stay on the drop tower for another day. Tomorrow, bring her to Scarlett to kneel and apologize, and we can put this behind us.” With that, he waved his hand, cutting off the manager’s next words, and walked towards the bedroom. On our marital bed, Scarlett Vance lay half-naked. Asher gently walked to her side, his Adam’s apple bobbing. The next second, he leaned down and kissed her swollen lips. The person on the bed moaned, opening her eyes. Gently, she tried to push Asher away. “Asher, this is your and Evelyn’s marital bed. Evelyn will be heartbroken if she finds out.” “And about what happened earlier, Asher, I just love you too much. I thought if I died, Evelyn wouldn’t cause trouble for you because of me anymore. I never wanted you to punish her for my sake. How about I go apologize to Evelyn?” Scarlett bit her lower lip, looking sad and remorseful. Just as expected, seeing Scarlett like this, Asher couldn’t hold back anymore: His large hand roughly massaged Scarlett’s breasts, and he flipped her over, pinning her beneath him. “Scarlett, you’re just too kind. If it weren’t for you back then, I’d be dead. Even your acrophobia is from saving me. When I think of someone as gentle and kind as you being pushed to jump by Evelyn, my heart aches. If there’s a next time, even if she’s carrying my child, I’ll make her pay with her life…” Asher tenderly kissed the small scratches Scarlett had from her fall, his eyes filled with heartache.

The two of them were intimate on my marital bed. The wedding photo by the bedside shook. Looking at the picture of myself, full of deep affection, and a cold Asher. I realized then that even souls have tears. But Asher, you don’t need to wait for a next time. Because… I was already dead. At that time, I, terrified, wanted to run. He watched, eyes wide open, as I, clutching my eight-month pregnant belly, scurried around like a headless chicken. Finally, he ordered his bodyguards to drag me back. Losing patience, he pinned me to the drop tower and strapped me in. He watched, eyes wide open, as I screamed and wailed in terror as the drop tower ascended higher. When the gush of fluid came from my lower body, I cried, telling him my water broke, begging him to save our child. He hesitated for a moment, but Scarlett, nestled in his arms, softly reminded him, “I thought Evelyn’s due date wasn’t for another week? But she does look really scared. She even wet herself before going up. Maybe just let it go? I’m fine…” The next second, Asher’s face was filled with disgust. “Evelyn! You’re truly sickening, using our child as a bargaining chip for attention. You stay up there and reflect!” A hundred meters up, the cold wind made my teeth chatter, and my stomach pain grew worse. Realizing the baby was about to be born, I desperately tried to break free from the ropes binding my hands, until I tore off a layer of skin, gaining a tiny bit of freedom. It wasn’t until the third ascent of the drop tower that I tried again with all my might and finally heard a kitten-like cry. But, utterly weak, I didn’t realize that the drop tower had already reached the very top again. I didn’t even get a clear look, couldn’t tell if my baby was a boy or a girl. The next second, due to extreme weightlessness, she plunged downwards. I frantically tried to grab her, but with old injuries on my hands, I couldn’t hold onto the child. I screamed and cried heartbrokenly, only able to watch that tiny body fall and turn into a bloody mess. And my fresh blood, from top to bottom, streamed through the air, like a bloody rainfall in June. I stopped breathing amidst my painful screams. And what was Asher doing then? He gathered the city’s most renowned doctors, all just to ensure Scarlett’s minor arm scratches wouldn’t leave a scar. He bought 9,999 roses, snapped up a one-of-a-kind piece of jewelry, and presented it to Scarlett, simply hoping his frightened first love would no longer be scared. And when others tried to report news of me to him, he impatiently interrupted, “Even if she died, she brought it upon herself.” ……. “Alright, her due date is in two days. Bring Evelyn over to apologize to Scarlett. She was so scared she wet herself earlier; she must be filthy. Make sure she cleans up before she comes.” Asher worked with Scarlett sitting on his lap. Scarlett’s small hand drew circles on his chest. “Maybe just let it go? I believe Evelyn didn’t mean it. After all, I shouldn’t have come back. But I just wanted to be by your side; I really didn’t want you two to fight because of me.” Asher lovingly caught her mischievous hand. “Scarlett, you’re my savior. For that alone, I will always protect you. She is my wife, and she should tolerate you with me. Yet she deliberately targets you and provokes you every time.” “I can’t even imagine, if the fire department hadn’t saved you in time, I might never forgive myself in this lifetime.” Hearing this, a trace of unnaturalness flashed across Scarlett’s face. She shrunk her neck and said no more.

My lips curved into a bitter smile. Six months ago, Scarlett, who had been abroad, suddenly returned. Asher said she was alone and helpless, and without a word, brought her to live with us. At first, I didn’t think much of it. I even felt it was hard for a young woman and took care of her in every way. Until one time, she poured a glass of red wine over her own head, then knelt and repeatedly kowtowed to me, begging me to let her go. After that, Asher’s gaze towards me began to change. That day, he completely ignored my explanations, threw me into the attic for three days without food, and sternly warned me, “Evelyn, you’ve disappointed me too much! Scarlett’s significance to me is beyond your imagination. If you target Scarlett again, even if you are my wife, I will make you pay the price.” Such incidents occurred repeatedly afterwards, and Asher’s gaze towards me grew colder and colder. I had originally planned to divorce Asher after the baby was born. But I never expected Scarlett to suddenly jump from a building. And the culprit behind her jump was the abusive messages and vicious voice mails I supposedly sent her. Those words were indeed hard to accept, but they weren’t mine. But Asher didn’t believe me. His heart ached for Scarlett, to the point of redness in his eyes. He even disregarded our unborn child, determined to avenge his beloved. “Sir… Madam… she seems to be… you should really go see for yourself.” Asher froze. Then, his face filled with impatience. “After all this time, she still dares to throw a tantrum?!” The amusement park manager hesitated, finally saying with difficulty, “No, sir, it’s just that Madam… seems to have stopped breathing…” Asher’s large hand, embracing Scarlett, stiffened. After a few seconds of silence, he smiled indifferently. “Her methods of escaping punishment are getting more elaborate. To avoid kneeling and apologizing to Scarlett, she’s even thought of faking her death?!” “Tell her, even if she’s dead, she has to apologize to Scarlett first! Otherwise, don’t blame me for being unkind!” Cold sweat began to trickle down the amusement park manager’s forehead. He wanted to say more, but seeing Asher’s furious face, he eventually retreated. Scarlett looked up innocently. “Asher, maybe just let it go? Even though Evelyn doesn’t like me and makes things difficult for me, she is still your wife. As long as I can be by your side, I can bear it.” Asher held her tighter. “Scarlett, you don’t need to be afraid of Evelyn, that narrow-minded woman. She can’t compare to a single strand of your hair. This time, I’ll teach her a lesson so she’ll know her place in the future.” “But…” “Alright, just listen to Asher. You can’t go wrong.” A tear fell on the back of my hand, and only then did I realize that, at some point, I had been crying profusely. Do souls also feel pain? Asher said no more, but for the rest of his work, he was restless. In the span of an hour, he casually glanced towards the door no less than ten times. Finally, he slammed his laptop shut, rubbing his hair in frustration. Completely out of patience, he gently coaxed Scarlett, “Scarlett, I don’t know what Evelyn is up to. I’ll go grab her now and make her apologize to you.”

Arriving at the entrance of the amusement park. He strode inside. Before he even got close, he saw the blue drop tower stained with blood. The smell of blood still lingered in the air. He covered his nose. “Why does it smell so bad? What exactly is Evelyn up to?!” The amusement park manager, hearing this, had cold sweat pouring down his forehead. “Sir, why don’t you see for yourself…” He stepped aside. Revealing me, covered by a white sheet, and a small, white-sheeted lump. Asher’s large hand hovered between the two white sheets. Unconsciously, his brows furrowed into a deep frown, a hint of hesitation in his eyes. I clutched my chest, anticipating what he would see next, my heart aching to the point of suffocation, yet I couldn’t tear my gaze away. Finally, he reached for the tiny lump. The moment he lifted the sheet, a sharp scream came from behind him. “Asher, why did you bring a dead cat’s body over?!” Scarlett shrieked, burrowing into Asher’s arms. Asher’s still-panicked face froze, then quickly seemed to snap back to reality, kicking the child’s body away. He then ordered someone to find a few stray dogs, and the beasts, smelling meat, swarmed over. I screamed and lunged forward, but I couldn’t do anything. I wildly questioned him, tore at him, but it was useless. I was just a soul now; no matter how much pain I felt, no one could see it. But I was truly unwilling! What did I do wrong?! What did my child do wrong?! Looking at the remnants on the ground, a malevolent glint flashed in Scarlett’s eyes. “Stop playing tricks! Where is Evelyn?! Where is she?!” “Wasn’t it enough that she provoked Scarlett into jumping? Now she’s using a dead cat’s body to scare her! I never knew she was so vicious!” “Evelyn, aren’t you most concerned about your child? If you don’t come out now, after the baby is born, we’ll divorce, and you won’t win custody! You’ll never see your child again in this lifetime!” I sank to the ground, crying and laughing blankly. Yes, my parents were gone. Asher had also betrayed me. The only thing I cared about most was this child. But she was killed by her own father, and in the end, her body was completely gone! Asher Thorne! You will go to hell! He shouted furiously, demanding I get out. But no one responded to him. Finally, the amusement park manager bit the bullet and walked over, slowly pulling back the white sheet covering my body, and stammered, “Sir, Madam is right here! As for the child, you just fed her to the stray dogs…”

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For three years, I was Ethan Vance’s secret lover and exclusive ghostwriter. By day, I was his most useless, decorative assistant, a target for ridicule; by night, I was the stand-in in his arms, desired and exploited, paving his way to the top with my talent. He always said my words had a special spark, that I was indispensable to him. Until his long-lost love, Serena Monroe, joined the company. He then shamelessly put her name on all my hard work, casually telling others, “She’s just a ghostwriter. Once Serena gets the hang of things, she can be let go.” He thought I’d grovel like a dog for scraps. But what he didn’t know was that I stayed by his side not for him, but for the top-tier resources he controlled. Now, my portfolio was glittering with success. Ethan Vance, I’m done being your stepping stone! “Mr. Davis, this ‘Starfall Project’ proposal is an absolute stroke of genius! Especially that core concept of reverse marketing, it’s simply brilliant! Whose masterpiece is this from your esteemed company?” In the spacious, bright top-floor conference room, Mr. Davis, the client, showered us with praise, excitedly pounding the table. I stood in the most inconspicuous corner of the room, my clicker tightly clutched in my hand. My palms were slick with cold sweat, but I forced myself to remain calm, my gaze instinctively drawn to the man seated at the head of the table – Ethan Vance. He was my direct supervisor, and my secret boyfriend of three years. This one-hundred-and-twenty-page proposal was the fruit of my grueling effort, having pulled seven all-nighters, researched thousands of competitor files, and even pushed myself to the point of stomach bleeding. Every single word, every chart, was steeped in my blood and sweat. I was fully convinced that this time, Ethan would finally keep his promise and give me the credit I deserved in front of the client. However, Ethan merely smiled, his handsome yet uncaring face beaming with triumph. His long fingers gently pointed to Serena Monroe, who sat beside him in a designer Chanel suit, her makeup meticulously applied. “Mr. Davis, you have a keen eye. This is Serena Monroe, our newly appointed Creative Director. She’s an Ivy League graduate with top honors, and she personally spearheaded this project.” Boom— Something exploded in my head. A ringing instantly drowned out everything around me. Serena Monroe? She’d only been with the company for less than three days! She hadn’t even grasped our company’s core business logic. All she did every day was sip afternoon tea and touch up her makeup in the office. She couldn’t even format a PowerPoint presentation! How dare she claim my hard work as her own? I stared hard at Ethan, trying to find a flicker of guilt or a hint in his eyes. But there was nothing. He didn’t even spare me a glance. Serena demurely lowered her head, perfectly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her voice sickly sweet: “Mr. Davis, you flatter me. It was just a fleeting inspiration. Mostly, it’s thanks to Ethan’s excellent leadership; he gave me so much inspiration.” “Hahahaha! What a talented couple, a powerhouse duo indeed!” Mr. Davis burst into laughter, then changed the subject. “However, Ms. Monroe, I have a question regarding the third phase of implementation. How did you derive that emotional resonance conversion rate estimation model?” The air in the conference room suddenly went silent for a second. Serena’s smile froze. She looked at Ethan for help, her eyes holding a look of pure, unadulterated cluelessness. How could she possibly know the derivation model? She didn’t even know what that phrase meant! Ethan’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. Then, under the table, he gently kicked my foot. He turned his head, glaring at me with extreme impatience, and in a low voice audible only to the three of us, he commanded, “Summer Reed, what are you spacing out for? Prompt her!” My heart, at that moment, utterly froze. Three years. Like a ghost hidden from the light, I hid in his shadow, ghostwriting countless viral campaigns for him, helping him climb from a regular supervisor all the way to a branch VP position. He always liked to hold me late at night, stroking my hair, saying, “Summer, your words have such a spark. Others only see my brilliance, but only I know you’re my soul. Once I secure my position, I’ll make sure you stand proudly in front of everyone.” I believed him. Like a fool, for that vague and ethereal promise, I willingly endured the cold shoulders from everyone in the company, content to be a “decorative assistant” who only served tea and water. But now, with his dream girl back, I didn’t even qualify as a shadow. I had become a mere prompter, to be discarded at any moment. I took a deep breath, forcing down the metallic taste of blood rising in my throat. I walked behind Serena, bent down, and with extremely clear articulation, recited the complex derivation model word for word. Serena repeated it, stammering, like a parrot mimicking a machine. Mr. Davis, though still a bit confused, finally nodded in satisfaction and signed the contract worth tens of millions. After the meeting, the crowd dispersed. Ethan sat in his chair, loosening his tie, and casually tossed an envelope at my feet. “Good job today, didn’t mess up. Here’s your bonus.” I glanced down at the thin envelope. It contained at most five thousand dollars. The commission for this project was at least half a million. I bent down to pick up the envelope, a self-mocking cold smile playing on my lips. “Thank you, Mr. Vance.” Ethan stood up, looking down at me condescendingly. “Summer, I know you feel wronged. But Serena just returned to the country and needs some impressive achievements to establish herself. You’re just an associate degree holder. Even if your name was on it, the client wouldn’t take you seriously. Be sensible, and there’ll be plenty of benefits for you later.” “I understand,” I replied submissively, my voice so calm it even scared myself. “Good that you understand.” Ethan patted my cheek, satisfied. “Go book a Michelin-starred restaurant for Serena. I’m celebrating her success tonight.” I turned and walked out of the conference room. The moment I closed the door, I took out my phone and opened my banking app. Looking at the transfer that had just arrived in my account, I couldn’t help but smile. That was the last bit of money I’d secretly earned from freelancing and stock trading over the years. With those five thousand dollars, I had finally saved enough for my brother’s last surgery and completely paid off the usurious loans our family owed. Three years of shackles shattered into dust at that moment. Ethan Vance, did you really think I loved you so much I’d lost myself? You were wrong. I initially got into your bed, becoming your secret lover, solely for the top-tier project resources you controlled—resources I could quickly monetize. Now, my portfolio was thick enough to open doors at any top company in the industry. I owe you nothing. Just you wait, Ethan Vance.

The next morning, I walked into Ethan’s office as usual, carrying a warm black coffee. He was leaning back in his chair, chatting and laughing with Serena. Seeing me enter, Serena immediately wiped the smile from her face and put on the air of a superior director. “Assistant Reed, just put the coffee down,” Serena said imperiously. “Oh, by the way, I heard you have an idea bank on your computer, filled with creative drafts from over the years? Could you copy it for me? I’m a bit short on inspiration lately.” I sneered inwardly. That was my accumulated treasure trove of material from three years of day and night work, my core competitive advantage. She thinks she can just open her mouth and claim it? “Director Monroe, those are just rough drafts, completely disorganized. I’m afraid they’d offend your eyes,” I said, feigning apprehension, lowering my head. “Why are you talking so much nonsense?” Ethan tapped the table impatiently. “Serena asked you to copy it, so copy it. It’s your honor if your subpar stuff can give Serena some inspiration. Go quickly!” “Yes, Mr. Vance.” I obediently retreated. Back at my desk, I opened the folder named “Inspiration Bank” and transferred all core, valuable proposals to my encrypted cloud drive. Then, I downloaded hundreds of generic, free PowerPoint templates and cliché ad copy from the internet, bundled them into a folder, named it “Core Creative Library,” and sent it to Serena. Trying to get something for nothing? Dream on. That afternoon, while making tea in the pantry, I called my headhunter. “Hello, Mark? It’s Summer Reed. Yes, have you seen my portfolio? …Okay, Starwing Media? No problem, I can interview anytime.” Starwing Media, the undisputed industry leader, and Ethan’s company’s biggest rival. Hanging up the phone, I felt a huge weight lift from my shoulders. That evening was the company’s celebration banquet. The banquet hall buzzed with lights, laughter, and clinking glasses. Ethan, with Serena on his arm, moved among investors and major clients, elevating her to a pedestal. As the nominal “chief assistant,” I was relegated to the furthest table, crammed with a few interns. “Hey, look at Summer Reed, she looks so pathetic. She followed Mr. Vance for three years and couldn’t even get a title. Now that his official girlfriend is back, she’s completely out of the picture.” “Right? An associate degree holder, really thought she could become a Cinderella story. She only had some looks, good enough to warm Mr. Vance’s bed, that’s all.” The colleagues’ whispers stung like knives, but I just continued eating the food on my plate, expressionless. What were a few cold words? Compared to what I was about to do, this was just a warm-up. After a few rounds of drinks, a corpulent, greasy-faced Mr. Hayes, a key channel partner for the company and notoriously lecherous, swayed over with a drink in hand. “Well, well, isn’t this little Summer? Why are you hiding here drinking alone?” Mr. Hayes plopped down beside me, his greasy hand brazenly rested on my thigh, giving it a hard squeeze through the thin fabric. My body froze, my stomach churning with nausea. I shot up, backing away a couple of steps, and said coldly, “Mr. Hayes, you’re drunk. Show some respect.” “Don’t act so high and mighty!” Mr. Hayes, his pride wounded, grew angry. “Everyone knows you’re Ethan Vance’s cast-off! What, Ethan Vance gets to sleep with you, but I can’t even touch you? Spend a night with me tonight, and I’ll get you a big deal!” The commotion drew everyone’s attention. Everyone stopped what they were doing, watching me like a show. I looked at Ethan. He stood not far away, glass in hand, his eyes as cold as if he were looking at a stranger. Not only did he not step in to stop it, but a smirk played on his lips, as if enjoying the spectacle. At that moment, my last illusion about him shattered completely. This was the man I had spent three years with. In his eyes, I was nothing more than a plaything to be used to appease clients. Just then, Serena Monroe sauntered over, swaying her hips. She daintily grabbed Mr. Hayes’s arm, cooing, “Oh, Mr. Hayes, why bother with an ignorant assistant? Come, Serena will toast you. Consider it an apology on her behalf.” Mr. Hayes’s attention immediately shifted to Serena, his eyes lecherously fixated on her cleavage. “Ms. Monroe is much more sensible. Fine, I’ll give Mr. Vance some face!” Serena turned, looking at me with a triumphant gaze, and falsely said, “Assistant Reed, aren’t you going to thank Mr. Hayes for his generosity? In the future, in the workplace, keep your eyes open and don’t always cause trouble.” I looked at the despicable pair and suddenly found it utterly comical. Without a word, I picked up a glass of red wine from the table and, to everyone’s stunned silence, splashed it directly onto Mr. Hayes’s greasy face with a loud “splash”! “Ah! You bitch!” Mr. Hayes shrieked, clutching his eyes and cursing. The entire hall fell silent. Ethan Vance’s face turned ashen. He rushed over, raising his hand to slap me. “Summer Reed! Have you lost your mind?!” I met his gaze without fear, and coldly uttered three words: “I was disgusted.” With that, I walked out of the banquet room without looking back, leaving the mess behind me entirely.

The next morning, I arrived at the company on time, wearing high heels and exquisite makeup. I didn’t report to Ethan’s office. Instead, I went straight to my desk, took out a cardboard box, and began packing my things. Just as I placed a few professional books into the box, Serena Monroe stormed over, absolutely furious. “Summer Reed! What garbage did you send me yesterday! All those messed-up templates and nonsensical copy—that’s your ‘creative library’?! You dared to mess with me!” Her sharp voice shattered the quiet of the office, and everyone peeked out to watch the show. I paused, slowly raised my head, looking at her with a half-smile. “Director Monroe, how can you call this messing with you? Aren’t you an Ivy League graduate with top honors? True creativity comes from the mind; those basic materials are just a foundation for a genius like you. Or… can you not even understand these simple things and have to rely on copying my original drafts to get work done?” “You!” Serena’s face flushed crimson as I struck a nerve. Her eyes suddenly darted around, and she spotted the black external hard drive on my desk, which I hadn’t unplugged yet. That was my personal hard drive, containing all my hard work from the past three years, including the preliminary outlines of several major, unreleased proposals. She lunged at it like a madwoman, ripping out the hard drive, clutching it tightly in her hand, her face twisted in a sneer. “Fine! If you won’t give it to me, I’ll destroy it! I’ll make sure you get nothing either!” With that, she turned and ran towards the water dispenser, threatening to throw the hard drive into the boiling water. “Serena Monroe! How dare you!” I was utterly enraged. I charged forward, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked hard. “Ah!” Serena let out a bloodcurdling scream. Her hand loosened, and the hard drive dropped onto the carpet. I kicked the hard drive behind me and then delivered a resounding slap across her face. “Smack!” The crisp sound of the slap echoed through the office. Serena clutched her face, looking at me in disbelief, tears instantly welling in her eyes. “Summer Reed! What are you doing!” A furious roar came from behind me. Ethan Vance strode over, charging forward, and roughly shoved me away. His force was immense. I was completely unprepared and crashed heavily into the corner of a nearby desk. An excruciating pain shot through my lower back, and I groaned, falling to the floor. Ethan didn’t even glance at me. He lovingly embraced Serena, carefully checking the red mark on her face. “Serena, are you okay? Does it hurt?” Serena leaned into Ethan’s chest, crying her heart out, tears streaming down her face, and pointed at me, accusing, “Ethan, I just wanted to borrow some files from Assistant Reed’s hard drive to look at. Not only did she refuse, but she called me useless and even hit me… I’m so scared…” Ethan suddenly turned his head, his eyes like knives, glaring at me. “Summer Reed! You’ve gone completely out of control! Serena is your superior; how dare you lay a hand on her? Apologize to Serena immediately! Otherwise, I’ll have HR fire you right now!” I leaned on the table corner, struggling to stand. The pain in my lower back made me break into a cold sweat, but my spine was ramrod straight. I looked at the man I had once loved, hated, and now only felt disgust for, and suddenly I laughed. A laugh that was incredibly relieved, incredibly defiant. “Fire me? Ethan Vance, you’ve got it wrong.” I walked to my desk, picked up the already packed cardboard box, and slammed the pre-printed resignation letter onto his face. “It’s me who’s firing you.” Ethan was stunned by the resignation letter. Then, his face twisted into an expression of extreme contempt and mockery. “Resign? Summer Reed, have you lost your mind? What do you think you are without me? A useless associate degree holder, what else can you do besides writing a few cringeworthy copies? Believe it or not, the moment you walk out that door, no company in this industry will dare hire you!” “Within three days, you’ll be crawling back on your knees, begging me to take you back!” I looked at his arrogant and smug face and felt only sadness. “Ethan Vance, remember what you said today. I hope our paths never cross again.” Clutching the cardboard box, I walked out of the company doors without looking back, ignoring all the shocked, scornful, and mocking gazes. The sunlight outside was blinding, but I felt a warmth and freedom I had never experienced before. Begging you in three days? Sorry, but I already have an offer for Creative Director at Starwing Media.

Starwing Media, located in the core area of the city’s most bustling Central Business District. When I stepped into the top floor of the building, I was greeted by Starwing’s CEO, Liam Kincaid. He wore a impeccably tailored dark grey bespoke suit. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were deep and sharp, exuding the calm composure and intimidating presence of someone at the top. Unlike Ethan Vance’s superficiality, built on stolen achievements, Liam Kincaid was a true industry titan—decisive, with keen insight. “Summer Reed?” He flipped through my portfolio, his long fingers tapping rhythmically on the desk. “This ‘Starfall Project’—the industry credits Serena Monroe for it, but after reviewing the underlying logic and writing style, it’s identical to the other cases in this portfolio. You wrote it, didn’t you?” My heart skipped a beat, then I nodded candidly. “Yes.” Liam Kincaid closed the folder, a hint of admiration playing on his lips. “Ethan Vance is truly a fool, treating a raw talent as a mere stepping stone. Welcome to Starwing, Director Reed. Here, we only value ability, not background.” “Thank you, Mr. Kincaid.” I took a deep breath, feeling my blood stir with excitement. Life at Starwing was incredibly busy but immensely fulfilling. Without menial tasks and endless emotional manipulation, I could finally dedicate all my energy to the creative work I loved. Liam Kincaid gave me immense authority and trust. Leading my new team, we brainstormed day and night, tearing things down and rebuilding, then tearing down and rebuilding again. In just one month, the “Project Lumina” full-case marketing campaign I spearheaded became an overnight sensation. Not only did it secure Starwing its biggest S-tier client of the year, but it also shattered industry conversion rate records. My name, “Summer Reed,” appeared prominently on the front pages of major industry media for the first time. No longer someone’s assistant, no longer someone’s shadow, I was Starwing Media’s Star Creative Director! Meanwhile, Ethan Vance’s life was going downhill. Without me, his ghostwriter, the quality of his company’s creative output plummeted. Serena Monroe, that incompetent woman, couldn’t hold up the facade at all. Her cobbled-together proposals were torn apart by clients. I heard that in just two months, Ethan had lost three major clients. His company’s performance was cut in half, and the board of directors put immense pressure on him. He finally panicked. He started frantically calling and SnapChatting me. “Summer, have you thrown enough of a tantrum? Come back, your position is still waiting for you.” “Summer, Serena really is incompetent, I admit I was wrong. As long as you come back, I’ll promote you to Associate Director immediately!” “Summer Reed! Don’t push your luck! Do you think Starwing really values you? They’re just using you to get at me!” Looking at those messages on my screen, which ranged from patronizing offers to desperate fury, I found it utterly ridiculous. I immediately blocked his number and turned my attention to preparing for the next, even bigger project.

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I was suffering from a rare form of retrograde amnesia. Every morning I woke up, I’d forgotten everything that happened the day before. My husband, Christian, was my only memory anchor. Every day, he would patiently tell me, “You’re Price, 29 years old, my wife, and we’re very much in love.” Until I found a filled diary deep within the study. Flipping to the first page, it was my handwriting: “Don’t believe anything Christian says.” “Cowell isn’t his cousin, she’s his childhood sweetheart.” “You’re not sick; he’s the one who’s been poisoning you.” Today was the 1001st time I’d discovered the truth, and the first day I decided to play along. I opened my eyes that morning, my mind a complete blank. “Awake?” I turned my head and saw a man in a bathrobe sitting on the edge of the bed. “Who am I?” I asked, instinctively. The man smiled, reaching out to ruffle my hair. “You’re Price, my wife. You’re sick; you forget everything from the day before.” He pointed to a photo frame on the nightstand. “That’s our wedding photo.” In the picture, I was in a wedding dress, leaning against him. But strangely, the photo’s edge had obvious creases. “Then who are you?” “Christian.” He held my hand, his fingertips warm. “Your only memory anchor.” I nodded, accepting the explanation. Christian helped me out of bed, squeezed toothpaste onto my brush, and even meticulously combed my hair. “What do you want to do today?” I looked at myself in the mirror. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything.” “Then leave it to me.” Christian wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “We have a family doctor coming for a recheck this morning. This afternoon, I’ll take you for a walk in the garden, and tonight…” Before he could finish, the doorbell rang. Christian released me, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly. “That must be Dr. Cowell.” I followed him downstairs. A woman in a white coat stood in the living room. She turned around, and her eyes clearly brightened when she saw Christian. “Christian, how is Price today?” Christian naturally walked over to Cowell, taking the medical bag from her hand. Their fingers brushed as they exchanged it, and neither pulled away. Cowell looked at me, a swift, appraising look flashing in her eyes. “Price, let’s measure your memory baseline today.” For the last question of the test, she pointed to Christian. “Who is he?” “My husband.” Cowell’s pen paused, and the corners of her mouth turned up. “Basic cognition is still present, but Christian, I still recommend increasing the dosage.” She finished packing her instruments. As she stood up, her fingers casually brushed the back of Christian’s hand. I sat on the sofa and watched Cowell stand on tiptoe at the door, whispering something in his ear. When he closed the door and returned, his face had resumed its programmed tenderness. “Price, what do you want for lunch today?” I stared into his eyes. “What did she tell you outside just now?” Christian froze for a moment. Then, a scrutinizing look flashed in his eyes. “Why are you asking that?” I lowered my head, twisting the hem of my shirt. “She comes every day. She’s so good to me.” “Dr. Cowell is just doing her job.” Christian pulled me into his embrace. The faint scent of cedarwood on him was the same as the scent on Cowell. “Price, you have to remember, in this world, I’m the only one who truly cares about you.” “Don’t believe anything anyone else says.” I nodded obediently, leaning against his chest, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

Christian went to the office in the afternoon, and I was alone, sunbathing in the yard. Paul, the housekeeper, brought me fruit, looking at me as if he wanted to say something. “Mrs. Price, do you really not remember anything?” I shook my head blankly. “Christian says I’m sick.” Paul’s lips parted, and he ultimately sighed. “Then listen to Mr. Christian. He’s looking out for you.” As he turned to walk away, I heard him murmur. “Poor thing, she can’t even hold onto what her parents left her…” I was about to ask more, when the sound of a car engine reached the yard gate. Cowell arrived with her medical bag, an apologetic look on her face. “So sorry, Price, I forgot to give you your shot this morning. Just remembered and came right over.” With that, she took out a syringe. “This is a new nerve-boosting medication. Christian agreed to start you on it today.” I instinctively recoiled. But she grabbed my hand, her grip surprisingly strong. “Price, be good. It’s for your own good.” I struggled a bit, and she immediately frowned. “Don’t move around, or it’ll hurt.” The needle pierced my skin, and before long, I fell into a heavy sleep. I had a terrible dream. In the dream, I stood at the edge of a cliff. Christian and Cowell embraced. “Price, jump! Jumping will set you free!” I didn’t want to, I wanted to run away. But Christian blocked me, forcing me step by step to the very edge. “Price, once you’re dead, I’ll get all the shares!” With that, he suddenly shoved me off. “Ah!” I jolted awake, but no one was around. Through the greenhouse glass, I saw two people talking. I shook my groggy head and suddenly spoke. “Christian, are we really married?” Their conversation stopped abruptly. Christian turned his head, his eyes in that instant becoming terrifying. He walked towards me, step by step. “Why are you asking that?” His gaze made me tremble with fear. “I just found it strange. Why do we only have one wedding photo?” “Why is there no trace of my past anywhere in this house?” He gripped my hand, so hard my bones ached. “Because you’re sick, Price.” “When you have an episode, you destroy things – you tear up photos, smash furniture.” “To protect you, and to protect our memories, I’ve put everything away. Don’t you trust me?” He looked at me, his eyes flashing with pain. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have doubted you.” Christian’s expression softened, and he pulled me into his arms. “It’s okay. I know you’re sick. I’ll stay with you until you’re cured.” I leaned on his shoulder, my gaze drifting over it to Cowell, who still stood nearby. Perhaps due to the medication, I fell asleep exceptionally early that night. At 2 AM, I woke up, thirsty. I got out of bed, fumbled my way to the kitchen, and as I poured water, I noticed the light in the greenhouse was still on. On a strange impulse, I walked over. Through the glass, I saw Cowell sitting in a wicker chair, wearing a bathrobe. Christian stood behind her, leaning over to massage her shoulders. “Was today’s dosage too strong? She actually started to suspect things today.” His voice carried to me. Cowell tilted her head back, resting the back of her head against his stomach. “Suspicion is normal. That drug damages the memory region. Over time, people become paranoid and even develop persecution delusions.” She reached out and clasped Christian’s wrist. “Christian, are you getting soft?” “No.” He smiled, an expression of indifference I’d never seen before. “This is what she owes me. If she hadn’t forced me to marry her back then, I’d already be a corporate high-flyer!” Cowell laughed. “Just three more months, and her cognitive function will be permanently damaged.” “Then she’ll truly be sick, and no one will ever find out.” Christian laughed heartily. “Exactly. By then, I’ll have her parents’ fortune, and we can finally truly be together!”

I stood in the darkness, fragmented images suddenly surging forward. Christian crushing pills and putting them in my milk. Cowell holding a syringe, smiling gently and saying, “This is for your own good.” Back then, I had frantically written in my diary, “Don’t trust them.” So I really had kept a diary, really discovered the truth! But every day I woke up, I would forget. In the greenhouse, Cowell stood up, turned, and wrapped her arms around Christian’s waist. She buried her face in his chest. “These years, pretending to be your cousin has been so exhausting.” Christian gently stroked her back. “Just a little longer. The paperwork for the Howard family’s asset transfer will be done soon.” “You deliberately got close to her back then just for her parents’ inheritance, didn’t you?” “What else?” Christian laughed, his voice laced with mockery. “Who would truly love a fool stupid enough to be tricked every day?” I clamped my hand over my mouth, desperate to escape, but my foot stepped on a dry twig. The lights in the greenhouse instantly went out. I ran back to the bedroom as fast as I could, scrambling under the covers, my heart pounding like it was about to burst. The door creaked open. Christian stood in the doorway, not turning on the light. He walked over and reached out, touching my forehead. “Price, where were you just now?” I forced myself to sound groggy, like I’d just been woken up. “What? I’ve been sleeping.” He didn’t speak. His fingers slid from my forehead down to my neck, stopping on a purplish bruise, pressing lightly. It hurt so much I almost cried out. “Had a nightmare? You’re sweating a lot.” I bit my lip. Christian leaned down, close to my ear. “Price, remember, you can go anywhere in this house, except the greenhouse in the backyard.” “It’s too damp there; it’s bad for your illness.” I nodded, not daring to make a sound. He smiled, satisfied, and tucked me in. “Sleep. Everything will be fine tomorrow when you wake up.” He left, the door not quite closed. I heard him tell Cowell in the hallway, “She might have found out. Move the plan forward!” Only when the hallway was completely quiet did I dare to open my eyes. Christian had said that the study held the things I tore up during my episodes. I remembered where the key was. I crept barefoot into the study. When I opened the door, a musty smell assailed me. Shredded photos, smashed ornaments, half-torn books — all piled in a corner. I saw the bottom shelf of the bookshelf. One book’s thickness seemed off. I pulled it out and opened it; the book was hollowed out. Inside was a leather notebook. I opened the first page, and it was my handwriting. “March 15th, Christian gave me a new medication today. I pretended to swallow it, then turned and spat it into the toilet.” “When Cowell came to check, I deliberately said my head hurt. The excitement in her eyes couldn’t be hidden.” “May 20th, our wedding anniversary. Christian gave me a necklace. That night, I found a transfer record to Cowell on his phone. How ironic.” I turned page after page. The diary recorded the time and place of their every secret meeting. The last page contained only one large line, written in red marker. “Price, escape! They will kill you!” My hands began to tremble violently. Bang! I heard the front door open downstairs. I hastily shoved the diary back into its place. I had just run back to the bedroom and lay down when the door was pushed open. Christian stood in the doorway. He turned on the light, holding a syringe, medicine dripping from its tip. He walked over, smiling. “Price, you went to the study, didn’t you?”

I shook my head frantically, tears streaming uncontrollably. “I checked the study door lock. There are new scratches on it.” Christian sat on the edge of the bed, reaching out to caress my face. “Why aren’t you obedient?” I trembled with fear. “Christian, I really didn’t. I just went to the bathroom.” “Stop pretending.” He suddenly ripped off the covers, grabbed my ankle, and dragged me to the edge of the bed. “The mud on the bottom of your feet isn’t wiped clean. There are your footprints on the study floor.” My entire body went stiff, unable to speak. Christian raised the syringe, pushed it, and liquid sprayed from the needle’s tip. “I originally wanted to let you live for another three months, but you’re not behaving.” He smiled. “Tonight, it ends.” The moment the needle pierced my skin, I lifted my foot and kicked him in the chest. Christian hadn’t expected me to still have the strength to resist. He fell backward, and the syringe flew out of his hand. I rolled off the bed, scrambling towards the door. Before I could run two steps, he grabbed my hair from behind. “Do you think you can escape?” He dragged me back, slamming me onto the bed, his knee pressing down on my legs. The pain made my vision go black, but I gritted my teeth and forced out the words. “Christian, if you kill me, the police will find out!” “Find out?” He scoffed, glancing at me. “You have retrograde amnesia; everyone knows that.” “You forget everything every day. When you have an episode, you self-harm and attempt suicide.” “Tonight, you had an episode and injected yourself with an overdose of medication. What does that have to do with me?” He leaned down, close to my face. “Cowell will testify for me, saying your condition had already reached an uncontrollable level.” “Do you think anyone will suspect me?” Christian released my hair, getting up to pick up another spare syringe from the floor. In that split second, I fiercely pulled out the phone I had hidden under my pillow. The screen was lit, on a call, the number was 911. I held up the phone, my voice trembling. “Christian, you’ve been talking for three minutes. The operator heard everything.” He froze, his face instantly turning ashen. Outside the door, an urgent knocking suddenly sounded. “Open up, police!” Christian looked at me, then let out a cold laugh. “Price, when did you recover your memory?” I didn’t answer. I just clutched the phone, shouting with all my might towards the door. “Help me!” The door was crashed open. Two uniformed police officers rushed in, followed by someone holding a body camera. Christian took a step back, a smile quickly plastered on his face. “Officers, it’s all a misunderstanding. My wife is sick; she was having an episode just now.” The leading officer raised a hand to interrupt him. “Mr. Christian, we have recorded everything you just said.” “Now, please come with us.” Christian’s smile froze on his face. He turned to look at me, a cold smirk on his lips. The police handcuffed him and escorted him out. As he passed me, he suddenly stopped. He turned his head, and in a voice only I could hear, said. “Price, do you think this is over?” “Don’t forget, Cowell is still out there.” I suddenly looked up. At the end of the hallway, Cowell stood in the darkness, holding a scalpel. She smiled at me, then disappeared down the staircase. The police chased after her, but I heard a flurry of urgent footsteps downstairs. Then, everything fell silent. I collapsed onto the floor, trembling uncontrollably. My phone suddenly rang again. A text message came from an unknown number, just one line. “Price, we’re not done yet.”

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For five years, I kept my identity as the heiress to a powerful conglomerate a secret. I willingly gave up my privileged life to help Leonardo fight his way from nothing to the CEO of a multinational corporation. Full of joy, I took my prenatal scan to surprise him, only to see him kneeling through the crack in the door, kissing Tiffany’s slightly swollen belly. When he saw me, he showed no remorse. Instead, he coldly slammed an abortion consent form onto my face. “Tiffany has severe depression. She can’t stand to see anyone else pregnant. Go get the abortion tomorrow. Don’t make me angry.” I looked at the man I had poured everything into, and suddenly, I felt utterly disgusted. For a gold-digger, he wanted to kill my child. But he didn’t know. Everything he owned was merely a toy I had casually bestowed upon him. Since he had no shame, I would take back everything that was mine, with interest! “Mr. Leonardo, Miss Tiffany’s pregnancy is stable, but her emotions absolutely must not be stimulated.” I stood outside the CEO’s office, clutching the ultrasound report that read “Four Weeks Pregnant.” My knuckles were white from clenching so hard. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through that glaring gap, I saw my husband, Leonardo, who was usually so cold and imperious at the office, now kneeling on one knee in front of the leather sofa. He held a bowl of steaming, high-end nutritional broth, carefully blowing on it to cool it down, as tenderly as if he were handling a priceless treasure. Then, he slowly brought it to Tiffany’s lips. “Tiffany, come on, just a sip. For our baby, you need to eat something.” Tiffany was wearing an oversized men’s shirt, its collar slightly open, revealing suggestive red marks. She pushed Leonardo’s hand away with a whine, tears instantly welling up in her eyes, and said with a fragile, tearful look: “Leonardo, you spend every day with me like this. Won’t Aria be angry? After all… after all, she’s your legally married wife. What am I?” Leonardo scoffed, an undisguised look of disgust and disdain flashing across his handsome face. “Why even mention her? What a buzzkill. She’s just a dowdy housewife, always smelling of stale cooking.” “If it weren’t for her being so docile and responsible, like a free live-in maid who could take care of me, I never would have married her.” He put the bowl down and pulled Tiffany into his embrace with a pained expression, kissing her forehead. “You’re the only one in my heart, always have been. As soon as this baby is born, I’ll divorce her immediately and marry you. Everyone will know you’re my true wife.” I stood outside the door, my blood running cold as if drained from my body, shivering from head to toe. Five years. For him, I broke ties with my family, abandoned my esteemed status as the heiress of the Franklin Corporation, and lived anonymously. I endured countless hardships with him in this city. When he was starting his business, he couldn’t attract investors, and he stayed up all night smoking on the rooftop, desperate. It was me who secretly leveraged my grandfather Spencer’s connections, disguised as a mysterious investor, paving the way for him. He worked overtime until he had a stomach hemorrhage trying to rush a project. I never left his side at the hospital for half a month, neglecting myself entirely, preparing him various stomach-soothing broths until my own hair started falling out. I thought we were a couple who had been through thick and thin, with a love as strong as steel. But it turned out, in Leonardo’s eyes, I was just a doormat who practically paid to be his live-in maid. A mere stepping stone, to be kicked aside at any moment to make room for his precious first love. I took a deep breath and suddenly pushed the door open. With a loud “bang,” the heavy solid wood door slammed against the wall, startling the two people who were locked in an intimate embrace inside. Tiffany shrieked, shrinking into Leonardo’s arms like a startled rabbit. Leonardo’s face instantly changed. Seeing me standing at the door, his brows furrowed into a tight knot, his eyes full of the fury of someone whose secret pleasure had been interrupted. “Aria? What are you doing here? Who told you to come in without knocking! You have no manners!” He instinctively spread his arms to shield Tiffany behind him, as if I were some man-eating monster. I ignored his roaring noun and walked in step by step, staring intently at his face, which I had once been so infatuated with, and held up the ultrasound report. “I came to tell you I’m pregnant.” “But now it seems, I’ve come at a bad time. My apologies for interrupting, Mr. Leonardo.”

The office instantly fell into a deathly silence. Leonardo’s gaze fell on the report in my hand, his pupils sharply contracting. But there wasn’t a hint of joy on his face, only a flash of extreme irritation and disgust. Tiffany tugged at his sleeve, her eyes instantly red, tears streaming down her face, her voice trembling like leaves in the autumn wind. “Leonardo… Aria is pregnant too… What about our baby?” “I should just go. I don’t want to break up your family. I’ll just have the baby alone and raise it myself…” She made a move to stand up. Leonardo immediately pressed her back onto the sofa, his face contorted with distress, and quickly reached out to wipe her tears. “What nonsense! The child in your belly is my child, Leonardo’s! Who dares to make you leave! If anyone leaves, it’s her!” After comforting Tiffany, he turned his head and looked down at me, his eyes as cold as poisoned ice blades. “Aria, this child can’t stay.” I thought I misheard, my ears ringing. “What did you say?” Leonardo strode to the desk, pulled open a drawer, took out a pre-prepared abortion consent form, and slammed it down on the table. “I said, go to the hospital tomorrow and get the procedure done.” He pointed at the trembling Tiffany on the sofa, his tone self-righteous: “Tiffany developed a chronic illness after saving me back then. She has severe depression and can’t handle any stress.” “Given her current condition, she absolutely cannot see that you’re also pregnant.” “You’re strong, healthy as an ox. You can have children a couple of years later; it’ll be the same.” I stared at the man before me in disbelief, as if looking at a completely unfamiliar monster. To protect his mistress’s child, he wanted to kill his own flesh and blood? “Leonardo, are you insane! This is our child! The child we’ve longed for for five years!” “Yesterday, you were still touching my belly, saying that if it was a girl, you’d buy her all the best dresses in the world!” “Plans change!” Leonardo interrupted me impatiently, his voice dripping with arrogant condescension. “Aria, don’t be unreasonable. This might be Tiffany’s only chance to be a mother in her life. I must protect her.” “You’ve held my wife’s position for five whole years, enjoyed so much wealth and glory. You should be content.” “Now, for Tiffany, what’s wrong with you suffering a little inconvenience? Don’t look at me like I owe you millions!” I looked at his self-righteous face, my stomach churning, the disgust shooting right through me. “What if I refuse to go through with it?” I gritted my teeth, asking each word distinctly. Leonardo sneered, his eyes filled with overt threat and disdain. “Aria, don’t make me do this the hard way.” “You’re a housewife who hasn’t worked and has been out of touch with society for five years. What do you have to fight me with?” “Without me, you can’t even support yourself, let alone a child!” “Tomorrow morning at eight, I’ll have the driver pick you up for the hospital. Don’t force me to send people to drag you there.” “If things get too ugly, you’re the one who’ll be embarrassed!”

I didn’t cry, nor did I throw a dramatic tantrum like a shrew. Looking at Leonardo’s utterly selfish face, I only found it laughable. I, Aria, the sole heiress of the mighty Franklin Corporation, had wasted five years of my youth on a blind, ungrateful fool. “Alright, I understand.” I calmly put away the ultrasound report, not sparing them another glance, and turned to walk out of the office. Behind me, Tiffany’s sweet, deliberately provocative voice carried: “Leonardo, is Aria mad at me? Her eyes were so scary just now; will she get revenge on us…?” “Forget about that crazy woman.” Leonardo scoffed, his tone full of certainty. “She’s useless without me; she can’t survive. Just scare her a bit, and she’ll calm down. Tomorrow, she’ll definitely go to the hospital obediently.” Listening to Leonardo’s conceited mockery, a cold smile touched my lips. Can’t survive without you? Leonardo, you overestimate yourself. You think you stand at the pinnacle of this city, but you don’t realize that the entire empire beneath your feet belongs to my family, the Franklins. Stepping out of the Leonardo Group building, the sunlight outside made me squint slightly. I took a taxi directly to a top-tier private hospital with extreme privacy. I didn’t get an abortion. Instead, I had the chief physician personally perform the most comprehensive prenatal check-up on me. After confirming that the baby was perfectly healthy, merely a little unstable due to my emotional fluctuations, I walked to the hospital’s quiet VIP garden and dialed a number I hadn’t called in five years. The phone rang three times before it was answered. A voice, old but incomparably authoritative, came through, tinged with unconcealed excitement and trembling. “Aria? Is that you? Is it really you?” Hearing my grandfather Spencer’s voice, my feigned strength instantly crumbled. My eyes welled up, and I fought back tears. “Grandpa, it’s me. I was wrong.” “I shouldn’t have disobeyed you back then, insisting on marrying that animal, Leonardo.” There was a two-second silence on the other end, followed by a heavy sigh, and then the distinct thud of a cane hitting the ground. “Just come back! It’s good that you’re back! The Franklin family doors are always open for you.” “Did Leonardo hurt you? I knew that mean-looking boy couldn’t be trusted!” “Yes.” I took a deep breath, wiped away my tears, and my eyes became cold and sharp. “Grandpa, I want Leonardo to lose everything, to be utterly disgraced. I want him to kneel, begging for death but unable to find it.” “Good!” Grandpa’s voice was firm and powerful, carrying the authority of a superior. “Anyone who dares to bully my granddaughter, Spencer’s granddaughter, I’ll make their whole family pay! It’s time for a shake-up in Las Vegas!” “Mr. Harrison will contact you in ten minutes. Just tell him what you need to do.” “All of the Franklin family’s resources are at your disposal!” After hanging up, I felt the five-year-long burden on my heart finally lift. Leonardo thought I was a soft touch, easy to manipulate. He had no idea that sixty percent of the dark shares in his proudly built Leonardo Group were under my name, Aria’s! He was only able to sit securely in the CEO’s chair because I had been secretly controlling the capital behind the scenes. With just one word from me, his commercial empire would collapse tomorrow. But I didn’t want him to die too easily. I wanted to watch him bleed out slowly, to see everything he owned turn into smoke, making him experience true despair.

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I grew up pampered, always held in the palm of my family’s hand. On the first day of college, my bodyguards carried two suitcases into my dorm room. I stood at the doorway, glanced around, and said: “Keep the AC on 24/7, I’ll cover the electricity bill.” “I’m a light sleeper, so no noise after 11 PM.” “Wipe down the bathroom every time you use it, I’m a germaphobe.” “I can’t do heavy lifting. I’ll pay you $100 to pick up my packages.” My three roommates exchanged confused glances. I looked at them and added: “No offense, it’s just my first time living in a dorm, so I’m laying out the rules upfront to avoid any drama later.” Then I pulled out the welcome gifts I’d prepared: a Chanel bag for each of them. “Thanks for your understanding.” Their eyes lit up, and they exclaimed, “From now on, you’re our Lady Boss!” But then, one girl named Sophia Miller started acting up. She told people behind my back that my gifts were charity, that I looked down on her. “She thinks a little money and a few designer items can make me her slave. I might be poor, but I have pride!” Even more absurdly, my fiancé, Ethan Hayes, flew all the way back from abroad just to defend her. “Evie, can’t you dial it back a little? Sophia doesn’t come from money, how can she pay you back for such expensive gifts?” “Can you please change your arrogant attitude? Stop acting like the whole world revolves around you.” I watched him standing protectively in front of Sophia, and suddenly, I smiled. If you all think I’m a bully, then I’ll show you what a real heiress can do.

My family is well-off, and my friends always tease me, calling me an “heiress.” It’s not entirely a joke, though. After all, I have the backing of a century-old, top-tier prominent family. So when I stood at the door, seeing a dorm room smaller than my own bathroom back home, meant to house four people, my head was spinning. I only stepped inside after a bodyguard had made my bed. My three roommates were standing by, openly scrutinizing me. Their faces showed undisguised exasperation. I glanced at the line of bodyguards by the dorm door and the mountain of luggage taking up half the room. Okay, maybe it was a bit much. I sat on my freshly made bed and smiled as I greeted my new roommates. “Hi everyone, I’m Evelyn Reed. I’m from a prominent family in Los Angeles. We’ll be roommates for the next four years.” “I’ve never lived in a dorm before, so I have a few requests.” “First, the dorm AC should be set to 77°F all day. I’ll cover the electricity.” “Second, I’m a light sleeper, so no noise in the dorm after eleven o’clock.” The three of them looked awkward, their gaze screaming “high-maintenance.” I waved my hand, and a bodyguard brought in three large boxes. “These are gifts from Miss Reed for everyone.” The three girls opened the boxes and stared blankly for a long moment. Full skincare sets, Apple laptops, Chanel handbags. My demands were quite specific, so it was only right to prepare some gifts for them. It’s also a standard move in my circles. What money can buy is often far more cost-effective than owing someone a favor. “I don’t mean anything by saying all this, just want to be clear upfront to avoid any misunderstandings later.” Chloe Davis, a girl with a big personality, quickly accepted my terms. “Oh my God, I thought we were getting a princess, but we got a real princess!” “You’re so generous, I’m almost embarrassed.” I smiled. “Also, I don’t do chores or clean. I’ll pay $500 for cleaning and $100 for picking up a package.” I thought for a moment and continued: “If you’re not willing, I can always ask the dorm next door…” Chloe immediately jumped up, pulling Mia Brown, who was next to her, to her feet. “I’m willing! Of course, we insiders should be the first to interview for serving our Lady Boss!” Mia’s gaze was even more determined than my bodyguard’s. “Lady Boss, I actually know a bit of self-defense. I’ll be your protector on campus from now on!” As everyone slowly warmed up, Sophia Miller, who had been sitting in the corner, tightly clutched her gift bag, biting her lower lip. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, assuming she was just slow to warm up and a bit shy. Little did I know, this person would bring unexpected trouble and ‘surprises’ to my college life.

When did I first realize something was wrong? Girls from the next dorm room would see me in the hallway and, instead of smiling and greeting me as before, would pretend not to see me. In class, everyone except my two roommates kept their distance. I thought I was being sensitive. After all, the places I’d lived growing up had such tight security that I rarely saw neighbors. So I had no frame of reference for this kind of “cold” environment. Until one day, Chloe couldn’t hold it in anymore. I walked out of the shower, drying my hair with a towel, when Chloe suddenly pushed open the door and sat on my bed, her face looking odd. “Evie, have you heard?” “Heard what?” She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and opened a SnapChat group. Scrolling up through the chat history, a girl named Sarah Johnson had posted three messages in a row. “You guys know Evelyn Reed from Class 4? The way she showed up on the first day, bodyguards and all, really thinks she’s a princess.” “She gave her roommates skincare, but the condition was for them to be her servants. $500 for cleaning, $100 for packages. Isn’t that just using money to humiliate people?” “Sophia from the next dorm told us. She said receiving the gift made her feel awful, like she was being humiliated, but she didn’t dare refuse it because she was afraid of offending Evelyn.” After reading those, I admit, I was definitely annoyed. The replies below had already reached almost a hundred comments. Some cursed me for being a nouveau riche, others said I was a rich person with no class. Someone even passive-aggressively sent a string of candle emojis, saying: “Poor Sophia, stuck in a dorm with someone like that.” I handed the phone back to Chloe. “Sophia said all this?” “The chat logs say it was her, but Sophia’s still acting innocent in the group!” Chloe was furious. I scrolled down further. Sophia had posted, feigning distress: “I didn’t mean for everyone to know, I just complained a bit privately to Sarah. Please don’t attack Evelyn, let’s not cause her any trouble.” Chloe rolled her eyes. “Pfft! ‘Privately complained’ and it spread across three classes?” I didn’t say anything. Chloe thought I was angry and added: “Evie, don’t worry about it. These types are just jealous of others’ success. If you want to deal with her, I’ll help you!” I shook my head. “No need. It’s too minor to bother with.” The next morning, on my way to class, I deliberately walked past Sophia’s seat. She was looking down, flipping through a book. I didn’t say anything, just sat in the empty seat next to her. She stiffened. The few girls sitting nearby also looked up and glanced at me. I opened my phone, pulled up that screenshot, and pushed it toward her. “Explain this.” Sophia glanced at the screen, quickly pushed the phone back, and whispered: “I… I just felt a bit uncomfortable, so I complained a few times, it was all just a joke…” I took my phone back and leaned against the chair. “You accepted my skincare, Apple laptop, and Chanel bag, then turned around and told people behind my back that it was charity, that I was using money to humiliate you?” Her eyes quickly reddened. The students around us were already looking our way. Sophia suddenly raised her hand to cover her face, her shoulders trembling, her voice tearful: “Evelyn Reed, what did I ever do to offend you? Why do you have to corner me like this?” She sniffed, then looked up, her eyes showing a mix of grievance and defiance. “You gave me such expensive things. I know you’re rich, but you know my family’s situation, how can I ever pay you back?” “I didn’t even dare use them. They’re just sitting in my closet, and looking at them every day terrifies me. What’s wrong with me complaining a bit to Sarah? Am I not allowed to have feelings?” I sat there silently, watching her performance. Sophia simply stood up, her chair scraping loudly across the floor. “Yes, I’m poor, so I should be eternally grateful for your gifts?” “But who are you to condescendingly decide the nature of our relationship? You humiliated my pride with your money, am I not allowed to feel uncomfortable?” After she finished speaking, her tears fell even harder. The students nearby started whispering to each other. “Evelyn Reed, don’t be too much. Just because you have money doesn’t mean you can bully your classmates!” My voice was flat. “Sophia, done crying?” Her sobs paused. “First, if you felt the gifts were too expensive and you were uneasy accepting them, then bring them back to me tomorrow.” “Second, you think I’m using money to make you a servant, but why didn’t you feel humiliated when you accepted the money for chores?” She opened her mouth, tears still streaming, but couldn’t say anything. I stood up and adjusted my jacket. “I have the SnapChat screenshots saved. I advise you not to push it.” I scanned the surrounding students who were watching. “I don’t care if they believe you, but next time, I won’t be so easy to deal with.” After my warning, she and those in the group chat were quiet for two days. But a week later, I received a FaceTime call from my fiancé, Ethan Hayes.

Ethan is my fiancé. Our families have been close for generations. When we were ten, our parents had dinner together and basically decided our future on the spot. If you scroll up our SnapChat history, the last message before this was “Happy New Year” from months ago. “Evie, is Sophia your roommate?” “You know her?” “She’s a scholarship student my family has sponsored since high school. She called me crying for a long time a few days ago.” I picked at my nail, casually asking: “And?” “She said you gave her very expensive things, and she didn’t dare refuse for fear of being isolated. Later, she mentioned in the dorm that she felt a lot of pressure, and then you gave her a hard time in class.” Ethan sighed, his tone reproachful: “Evie, her family isn’t well-off. Those things are a burden to her. Can you just tone it down a bit? Just interact normally, don’t make such a show.” “I’m telling you this for your own good. Your personality makes it too easy to offend people.” I pretty much understood. Sophia dared to spread rumors behind my back because she had someone backing her up. But she got one thing wrong. Ethan Hayes, he wasn’t in a position to lecture me. I found it amusing. “Ethan, you should know, if I truly wanted to target someone, she wouldn’t even be able to get into Los Angeles.” Ethan was choked up. He was about to speak, but I hung up the phone. Someone who hadn’t bothered to send a holiday greeting in ten years was calling me from overseas just to lecture me over a scholarship student. I tossed my phone onto the table. Chloe leaned over, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Evie, who was that?” “An arrogant idiot.” The next afternoon, Ethan was leaning against his car by the school gate. He was impeccably dressed in a suit, his features carrying the cultivated air of someone accustomed to luxury. Sophia stood beside him, head bowed, eyes red, looking utterly aggrieved. As I walked out of the school gate, Ethan stepped forward and blocked my path. “Evie, let’s talk.” I glanced at the curious stares around us and simply hummed in agreement. In the cafe next to the school, Sophia sat beside Ethan. She kept her eyes downcast, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Ethan got straight to the point: “Evie, what I said on the phone yesterday might not have been clear enough, so I’m telling you face-to-face today.” “Sophia hasn’t had it easy. She fought tooth and nail to get into this university. Whether it’s those gifts or the way you speak, it’s all pressure for her.” I leaned back in my chair, took a sip of my lemon water, and remained silent. Seeing no response from me, Ethan’s brow furrowed even deeper. “You grew up pampered by your family, so you can’t understand the struggles of ordinary people. But since you’re my fiancée, I hope you can show some empathy.” “Sophia has cried to me several times, saying she’s afraid to speak or move in the dorm, terrified of upsetting you again.” Sophia looked up, her voice trembling: “Ethan, please don’t say anymore. Evie wasn’t targeting me. I’m just too sensitive, it’s my fault…” As she spoke, tears welled up again, but she quickly wiped them away with her sleeve, her face still defiant. Ethan’s expression darkened even further. When he turned to me, his voice held anger: “Evie, look at what you’ve driven her to! Can’t you just apologize to her?” I finally put down my cup and looked at Ethan seriously. “Ethan, how old are you this year?” He paused. “What?” “Twenty-five, right?” I chuckled softly. “A twenty-five-year-old man, swayed by a young girl’s few soft words, flying all the way from abroad to stand up for her. Don’t you find that ridiculous?” Ethan’s face darkened. “Evelyn Reed, what is your attitude?” I tilted my head, my gaze sweeping past him to Sophia. “Sophia, I’m asking you one last time: did I bully or humiliate you?” My voice was calm. Sophia bit her lip. “You… you gave them in front of the whole dorm. I didn’t dare refuse…” I scoffed. “You didn’t dare refuse, but then you turned around and told everyone I was giving you charity and humiliating you?” “Fine. If you didn’t dare refuse, then give the items back to me. Go get them now, I’ll wait.” Sophia’s face turned pale. “What? You don’t want to give them back?” I tilted my head, looking at her. “Or have you already opened and used that skincare set? Did you boot up the Apple laptop? Did you swatch the lipstick kit?” Sophia’s tears welled up again. She turned to Ethan, her voice tearful: “Ethan, I didn’t… I didn’t open them. I didn’t even touch the packaging…” Ethan reached out and patted her shoulder, then turned and glared at me. “Evelyn Reed, that’s enough! How much is a skincare set? Do you really have to be so aggressive?” “Sophia’s from a less fortunate background, what’s wrong with her being a bit sensitive? Can’t you be more magnanimous and understanding?” His words made me laugh, and my eyes turned cold. “Ethan, I used real money to buy harmony in the dorm, to ensure four years of peace for four people. Am I in the wrong for that?” Ethan took a deep breath, trying to control his emotions. “Evie, no matter what, your condescending attitude is truly problematic. You’ve always been…” “My childhood pampering is a privilege my family affords me. I don’t owe her anything.” Ethan suddenly stood up. “Evelyn Reed! Don’t be too much! I came here with good intentions to mediate, and you’re making it so awkward?” “Sophia is just a girl. Can your conscience really be clear after humiliating her in front of so many people?” Sophia tugged on his sleeve, sobbing softly: “Ethan, it’s okay, let’s just go. It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have told you…” Ethan glared at me, his chest heaving several times, then suddenly picked up the coffee in front of him and splashed it on me. “Evelyn Reed, I’ll make you beg Sophia for forgiveness.” I was stunned for a few seconds by the coffee splash. When I looked up at them, Sophia’s eyes held undisguised triumph. Coming back to my senses, I blinked hard, letting my eyes redden. Then I took out my phone, snapped a selfie, and sent it to the family group chat with a tearful voice message. “Daddy, Ethan hit me because of a scholarship student! My eyes are all swollen from crying~” Ethan still scoffed from across the table. “Our families go way back! Do you really think selling a sob story will get me punished? You really think you’re a princess!” Three. Two. One. The urgent screech of tires came from outside, followed by the sound of the door being violently pushed open. “Who’s tired of living, daring to lay a hand on my darling?!”

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My eighteenth bonding ceremony with Kael Frost was canceled—again—because of my adopted sister. Mother opened a mind-link, her voice flooding into my head laced with agitation: “Briar’s having another episode. Stomach cramps, bad ones. Your father and I are taking her to the infirmary. Handle the ceremony yourself—you’ve canceled enough of these by now, you’re better at it than anyone.” My lifelong best friend and maid of honor, Liora, was even blunter: “Is your ceremony really more important than Briar’s life? She’s in so much pain she’s nearly blacking out—are you seriously expecting us to stay for the ceremony? Selene, when did you become so heartless?” And my fiancé. I waited a full twenty minutes. All he sent was this: Ceremony’s off. We’ll reschedule. We’ll reschedule. I rolled those words over and over in my mind. He’d used the exact same phrase to dismiss me eighteen times. A bitter laugh slipped through my lips. Suddenly, none of it mattered anymore. The moon still hung at the edge of the sky, pale as a sliver of bone about to shatter. I closed my eyes and silently addressed that moon— Sever it. Every bond I share with them—let it end. Right now. Moonlight flashed behind my eyelids, and a line of silver text crystallized at the center of my vision, visible only to me: Connections severed. Countdown: 72 hours. When the time expires, all who were once bonded to you shall return everything—including their lives. … I opened my eyes, drew a deep breath, picked up the microphone, and walked onto the ceremonial stage. Violets. Everywhere. My bonding ceremony, blanketed in Briar’s favorite flower. Laughable. “My apologies, everyone. Tonight’s ceremony is canceled.” The Northern Realm’s aristocrats exchanged glances, though none looked particularly surprised. “Expected, isn’t it? How many times have they tried over the years? Not once has it actually gone through. If I were the Graves heiress, I’d have stopped showing up ages ago.” “The entire Graves clan dotes on that adopted little sister. Why bother competing? Stepping aside would at least let Selene keep her dignity.” “You don’t understand—Frost operations fall apart without Selene. They’ve tested it more than once. Every time Kael has a falling-out with her, the clan’s holdings take a nosedive. That’s the only reason he hasn’t dropped her.” I descended the stage under the pitying, faintly mocking gazes of the crowd. My lips twitched. This time, it wouldn’t be a mere dip in holdings. I changed into plain clothes and returned to the Graves estate, wanting only to grab a few things before leaving for good. But the moment I pushed open the front door, a procession of people swept into the foyer around Briar, all chattering and laughing. The instant they saw me, every smile vanished at once. Kael’s dark gray eyes clouded with anger, his tone thick with undisguised reproach: “Selene, why didn’t you give any explanation when you canceled the ceremony? You said nothing—now people are going to blame Briar again.” Father cast me a cold glance. “You handled this appallingly. In the past, cleaning up a canceled ceremony never required our involvement. Today, you have thoroughly disappointed me. Issue a statement immediately—say you canceled on a whim, and that it had nothing to do with anyone else.” Liora already had her phone out. “I’ll have the publicist contact the major outlets. If Selene puts out a statement now, we can still get ahead of it. We’ll plant a few narratives online, redirect the discourse toward her—then nobody will even think of Briar…” I didn’t respond to any of it. Not a single word. I simply stared at the silver countdown hovering in my vision. Remaining: 2 days, 18 hours. When the time came, they would lose everything they had. “Selene, what the hell are you staring at?” Kael stepped closer, his impatience reaching its peak. “I’m warning you—if you don’t handle this properly, I can’t guarantee when we’ll schedule the next ceremony.” I lifted my eyes and looked at him for one brief moment. That face I’d once fallen for at first sight now looked like a stranger’s. It didn’t matter. There wasn’t going to be a next time. —

“That’s enough.” Briar chimed in at the perfect moment, her voice a breathy wisp, her slender fingers tugging at Kael’s sleeve. “It’s all my fault… I’m the reason Selene’s ceremony fell through again… There are still auspicious dates this month—please, stop pushing it back…” Halfway through her sentence she broke into a fit of coughing. Kael turned instantly, his palm settling on her back, patting gently. “This has nothing to do with you. Don’t overthink it. Your sister can’t live without me—it makes no difference when we hold the ceremony.” “That’s where you’re wrong.” I finally spoke. My voice was so calm it startled even me. Every expression in the room froze at once. I gave the backpack in my hand a little shake. “I’m leaving.” The words had barely left my mouth. Crack— Mother’s palm struck my face with full force, the sharp sound echoing through the foyer. My head snapped to the side. I tasted iron on my tongue. Her hand was still trembling, her nails digging into her own palm. “You dare cause another scene! All these years we’ve spoiled you rotten. How did a perfectly good child turn out so insufferably willful?” “Leave? And go where? So you can set the whole Northern Realm buzzing with gossip, make everyone think we’re playing favorites? Selene, when are you going to grow up? How could I have raised a daughter like you—you’re not worth half of what Briar is!” The taste of blood spread through my mouth. Yes. Every time before, I’d made a scene. Because I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand why, when it was Briar who shattered Father’s prized ancient fang crown, they decided I was the one who’d smashed it. I didn’t understand why, even with the estate’s security footage, they refused to believe I hadn’t pushed Briar down the stone stairs. Even the moonflowers I’d planted in the garden that triggered Briar’s allergies had been entered into evidence as proof that I was trying to murder her. And this wasn’t the first time Mother had raised her hand. The last time was only two days ago. Briar had wanted to wear the custom ceremonial gown I’d spent six months preparing for the bonding. I said no. And then—right on cue—she fainted. Mother charged at me, shoved me so hard I stumbled, then grabbed a pair of scissors and, right before my eyes, shredded that gown I’d waited half a year for into ribbons. Over Briar, she and I had been driven nearly to the point of drawing knives. So the old me had fought back with everything I had—demanding that someone, anyone, tell me I was right. But this time, I truly didn’t want to fight anymore. Because I’d finally seen it clearly. I am the incarnation of the Moon Goddess. In all the Northern Realm, only those who forged an emotional bond with me could receive the blessings the Goddess bestowed. The day after I was born, the Graves family—teetering on the brink of extinction—were struck overnight by a string of miraculous windfalls. Their power swelled at breakneck speed until they secured their place as the most powerful clan in the Northern Realm. Father’s chronic illness, already deteriorated to a terminal stage, vanished as if it had never existed. Even the elder who treated him couldn’t explain it. My best friend Liora, inseparable from me since childhood, grew more stunning with each passing year and she became Hollywood’s first werewolf to win Best Actress. And Kael. He had been nothing more than a stray low-rank gray wolf roaming the border territories. No parents. No pack. No surname. He scraped by running a market stall at the border bazaar, hounded by enforcement patrols, beaten up by rival vendors. Until one night, he found me—a little girl lost in a night market. I stared up at his handsome face. In that single instant, I fell for him. From that moment on, he awakened as a White Wolf Alpha, his abilities and influence soaring at an impossible rate. He established the Frost Clan, never once losing a business deal or a territorial dispute, and today stood as the man closest to the Alpha King’s throne in all the Northern Realm. All he had to do was complete the bonding ceremony with me—make me his Luna—and the throne would be his. For over twenty years, they’d held me in the palm of their hands, showered me with love. Kael, above all, had treasured me like something precious. Because of me, they’d gotten everything they ever wanted. And then Briar was brought into the Graves household. And everyone changed. —

Briar performed a textbook-perfect faint right in front of me. The arc of her body falling backward was precisely calibrated—graceful enough to land squarely in the arms of the people who’d rushed over at the commotion. Before anyone could even ask a question, Kael had already stepped in front of me—five fingers clamped around my throat, slamming me against the corridor’s stone wall. “Selene, did you hit her again?” His pupils blazed with the dark-gold pressure unique to an Alpha. “Do you actually think I won’t lay a hand on you?” I didn’t even get the chance to deny it. “Guards!” Father’s roar erupted at the far end of the corridor. “Take her away—lock her in the dungeon. Punish her according to clan law!” The dungeon. Damp, dark, and devoid of sunlight all year round. This was my second time being thrown in here. The memory of the first was still knife-sharp. That night, I’d discovered Briar slipping silently into Kael’s bedroom after dark. When I pushed open the door, she was perched on the edge of his bed, her clothes half undone. I confronted them on the spot. But Briar, eyes brimming with tears, offered her defense: she said she’d nearly been snatched by a rogue wolf as a child, which had given her severe sleepwalking. Subconsciously, she explained, she felt safe near Kael. It wasn’t intentional. My parents and Kael believed her without question. Kael even told her gently that if she was ever scared, she could come find him anytime. Back then, my love for him burned at its most intense. I’d been so possessive that I’d issued an order—no female was to hold a position anywhere in the Frost Clan’s inner circle. So that day I’d slapped Briar across the face without a moment’s hesitation. The price was seven days in this dungeon, with nothing but a bowl of cold porridge each day. They didn’t let me out until I was so starved I could barely stay conscious—and agreed to apologize to Briar. This time, they clearly didn’t intend to stop at starving me for a few days. The heavy iron door groaned open. Father walked in, a cane rod gripped in his fist. Kael followed behind him. “Per the Graves family code, the sentence is thirty lashes.” Father’s voice was frigid. “However, Briar took pity on you and begged me on her knees to use the cane instead of the silver whip. Since the cane is lighter than the whip, the count is raised to fifty.” Crack— The first blow landed across my back. A livid purple-red welt swelled up instantly. After a dozen or so, my skin split open. Every strike after that came with a corrosive, bone-deep burn—mercury. The cane Briar had so “kindly” begged them to substitute had been soaked through with mercury. I could barely hold my human form. When the fifty lashes were done, my entire back and arms were a raw, bloody mess. Thin rivulets of blood traced my spine downward, pooling on the stone slab beneath my feet. My body had long since slipped beyond my control, warped into something half-wolf, half-human—a grotesque thing. I curled up in the corner, gasping in great heaving breaths, shaking all over. Father tossed the cane aside, dropped a single remark—”Utterly incorrigible”—and strode out. Kael crouched down in front of me and unfolded a bundle of clothes. “These are the fresh clothes and ointment Briar prepared for you. Selene, she’s always been respectful toward you. As her older sister, you should be looking after her. Why do you insist on assuming the worst about her?” He shook out the garments and “thoughtfully” draped them over my blood-soaked back. The instant the fabric touched the open wounds— It was as if my entire body had been plunged into boiling brine. The pain hit so hard I curled into a ball in a single convulsion, my spine arching, my lengthened wolf-claws gouging into the cracks between the floor stones. “Always so dramatic. Briar goes deathly pale from her episodes and still doesn’t carry on the way you do.” He stood up, tossed out that contemptuous remark, and walked away. The echo of the iron door slamming faded slowly into nothing. It was a long time before I clawed back even a thread of breath. Moonlight filtered through the single narrow slit above, pale and silent. I closed my eyes and silently addressed that moon— Accelerate. I want to sever all connections faster. Silver text materialized in the darkness: Acceleration engaged. Tomorrow at noon, twelve o’clock sharp, all repercussions will descend. —

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At my eighteenth wedding rite with my fiance, everyone was taken away by my adopted sister again. When the temple herald came hurrying over, his voice was anxious and edged with impatience. “Lyra’s stomach illness has flared up again. The king and queen have gone with her to Apollo’s temple for treatment. Handle the wedding yourself. It has been canceled so many times anyway. You have experience.” Lina, the beloved songstress of the Muse temple and the closest friend I had grown up with, clicked her tongue. “Can your wedding vows possibly matter more than Lyra’s pain? She almost fainted from it, and you still expect us to stay here? When did you become so cruel?” As for my fiance, Phaethon, the youngest chariot commander under Ares, he did not even send anyone to explain in person. He only had an attendant deliver a word. [The wedding is postponed. Another time.] Another time. I repeated those words over and over in my heart. He had dismissed me with those words eighteen times. A laugh tugged at the corner of my mouth. Suddenly, all of it felt utterly pointless. “Moirai.” “Cut every thread of fate between me and them.” A familiar voice came from the depths of the temple, like a spindle turning, like the Fates whispering. “As you command. Cleione, daughter of fate, every character’s bond to your golden thread has been severed.” “In three days, they will lose everything they possess because of you.” “Including their lives.” — Watching the three-day countdown appear on the Loom of Fate, I took the bronze staff the priest handed me and walked up to the wedding altar covered in violets. My wedding, and yet the altar was filled with Lyra’s favorite flowers. How laughable. “My apologies, everyone. Today’s wedding rite is canceled.” The nobles and priests below exchanged glances. No one asked a single question. “I knew it would be canceled. After all these years, not one of her weddings, big or small, has ever gone through. If I were the elder princess of this kingdom, I wouldn’t even show my face.” “The whole royal family dotes on the younger one. If it were me, why would I keep fighting my own sister? I would just give him to her. At least then I wouldn’t be a laughingstock across the entire city-state, and I might even earn a reputation for generosity.” “What do you know? The elder princess is no ordinary woman. Whenever Phaethon rejects her, the Phaethon family’s warships sink the next day, and their armories catch fire. After losing several cities testing it, he finally settled down and agreed to marry her.” I left under everyone’s pitying stares. As I listened to their whispers, the curve of my mouth turned sharp with irony. This time, it would not be as simple as a few sunken warships. After changing out of my ceremonial robes and returning to the palace, I meant to gather a few things and leave. But just as I reached the door, I ran straight into a group of people returning with Lyra at their center, talking and laughing around her. The moment they saw me, every smile vanished. Anger rose in Phaethon’s eyes, and his voice carried open blame. “Cleione, why didn’t you explain properly when you canceled the wedding? If you don’t make things clear, that’s your fault. Now everyone will start suspecting it was because of Lyra again.” My father, the king, curled his lip and ordered, “Cleione, you handled this badly. We never had to worry about temple announcements for the previous cancellations. This time you have disappointed me. Go swear before the city-state at once and say it was your own willful behavior that offended Hera.” Lina immediately took out a speaking stone engraved with the mark of the Muses. “I’ll have the bards and gate scribes spread the word right away. There is still time for Cleione to admit fault. Then we can have people in the market curse her a little more, and no one will speculate about Lyra.” Faced with their accusations, I said nothing. I only looked silently at the threads of fate before me, visible to no one but me. Two days left. Then they would be finished. “Cleione, why are you standing there in a daze?” Phaethon walked up to me, his voice thick with impatience. “Let me tell you, if you don’t fix this properly, I can’t promise when the next wedding rite will be.” Lyra finally spoke, soft and fragile. “It’s all my fault. I delayed Brother Phaethon’s and Sister’s wedding. I ruined everything.” “There are still auspicious days at Hera’s temple this month. Please don’t postpone it again…” Before she could finish, she began coughing. Phaethon rushed over at once and rubbed her back. “This isn’t your fault. Don’t overthink it. Your sister will never be able to leave me in this lifetime. It makes no difference when we marry.” “Then you’ve overestimated yourself.” At last, I spoke my first words in a cold voice. Several faces froze. I lifted the bundle in my hand. “I’m leaving.” The words had barely fallen when, in the next second, a sharp slap rang through the entire palace hall.

My head tilted to one side. I gave a self-mocking smile. My mother’s hand was still trembling with anger. “You still dare to make a scene? We spoiled you too much all these years. How did such a perfectly good child become so willful and domineering?” “And you want to leave? Leave for where? Are you trying to stir up gossip across the city and make everyone think we favor one child and mistreat you? Cleione, when will you learn to be sensible? How did I give birth to a child like you? You can’t compare to even half of Lyra!” The taste of blood spread through my mouth. I licked the corner of my lips. Yes. In the past, every time, I would make a scene. Because I could not understand. I could not understand why, when Lyra had clearly broken the sacred cup Father brought back from Delphi, they insisted I had smashed it. I could not understand why, even with the temple’s water mirror recording everything, they refused to believe I had not pushed Lyra down the white stone steps. Even the flowers I offered to Aphrodite, which triggered Lyra’s allergy, became proof that I had deliberately bullied her. This was not the first time Mother had struck me. The last time was only two days ago. Lyra wanted to wear my wedding robe, and I refused. Then she suddenly fainted. Mother came up and shoved me, then used ceremonial shears to cut apart the white gauze robe I had waited half a year for. Because of Lyra, my own mother and I had nearly become enemies. So I made scenes. I wanted everyone to judge who was right. But this time, I truly had not made a scene. I was the only daughter of fate in this world. Only those connected to me could receive the blessing of the golden thread granted by the three Fates. On the second day after my parents gave birth to me, the Shen royal family, whose treasury had been empty and whose kingdom stood on the verge of collapse, suddenly discovered an entire gold mine beneath the sea and became the wealthiest city-state in the Aegean. Even Father’s liver disease, which Apollo’s priests had declared incurable, healed by some miracle. Because Lina had been my friend since childhood, the old scar on her face gradually disappeared, her voice grew clearer and brighter, and she eventually became the most dazzling songstress in the Muse temple. Even kings were willing to offer gold for the sound of her lyre. As for Phaethon. He had once been nothing more than a petty merchant in the market, selling fake bronze wares. He was chased by city guards and beaten by his rivals. Then he saved me when I got lost in the night market, and I fell in love with him at first sight. From then on, he built his own fleet and army. His business prospered, his battles never failed, and at last he became the most valued chariot commander under Ares. For more than twenty years, they held me like a treasure in their palms. Phaethon, especially, cherished me as if I were the apple of his eye. They also gained everything they wanted because of me. But later, Lyra was brought back to the palace. And everyone changed. Father ordered in a heavy voice, “Someone, take away all her things. She is not to carry a single item from the palace.” “Cleione, if you want to leave, fine. But this time, no one will come coaxing you back. Once you leave, we will hold a city assembly before Athena’s temple and sever our parent-child ties with you. From then on, you will no longer be our daughter.” They did not even let me take one piece of clothing before they pushed me out the door. Phaethon sighed and quietly handed me the key seal to a small shrine-house. “You can stay in this cottage. Cleione, we’re truly tired. We don’t want to keep indulging your tantrums.” “How good it would have been if the person I saved back then had been Lyra.” I gave a cold scoff. “You can marry her now.” Phaethon sighed helplessly. “There you go again. Cleione, you know I swore before Hera that I would marry you, and I will not break my word.” “Lyra is a pure, kind girl. I won’t allow you to toss her around in your mouth like some object. Don’t let me hear you say that again.” He turned and walked up the steps. I threw the key seal onto the ground and was about to leave. Lyra suddenly rushed over and grabbed my sleeve. “Sister, don’t go. I shouldn’t have longed for warmth that doesn’t belong to me. I’m not worthy.” “Don’t leave. I should be the one to go. I’ll leave the palace right now…” I knew exactly what Lyra was planning. So I simply stood there and let her clutch me while she pretended to cry. But when she saw that I did not push her away as I used to, she immediately began struggling for breath and fainted at my feet. “Lyra!” “Call Apollo’s priest! Lyra, my daughter!” Everyone rushed over in panic and surrounded her. Phaethon’s eyes were vicious as he seized me by the throat. “Cleione, you still dare lay a hand on Lyra? Do you think I truly can’t bear to hurt you?” So this was what it felt like to laugh when words failed you. I had not even bothered to touch her, and somehow it had still become me attacking her. “Phaethon, I hope none of you regret this later.” “Guards!” Father roared, pointing at me. “Lock her in the underground shrine room and punish her according to family law!”

The underground shrine room was damp and dim. This was the second time I had been locked inside. The first time was still fresh in my memory. It was because I discovered Lyra sneaking into Phaethon’s bedchamber in the middle of the night. I lost my temper on the spot and caught her red-handed on Phaethon’s couch. But in the end, she sobbed that old trauma had made her sleepwalk. She had no idea why she had entered Phaethon’s chamber. She only felt safe there. She had not done it on purpose. My parents and Phaethon believed that explanation without question. Phaethon even told her gently that if she was frightened, she could come to him anytime. Back then, my love for Phaethon was at its deepest. I would not even allow female attendants near him. Other than low-ranking servants, there could not be a single young woman in the entire commander’s residence. So I slapped Lyra across the face, and my parents locked me in this underground shrine room. For seven whole days, they gave me only one bowl of thin porridge a day. Only after I was starved into a daze and agreed to apologize to Lyra did they let me out. This time, however, they clearly did not intend to merely starve me for a few days. When Father came in carrying a cane soaked in pepper wine, Phaethon came with him. “According to royal family law, you should receive thirty lashes. But Lyra felt sorry for you and knelt to beg me to replace the whip with a cane. Since a cane is less forceful than a leather whip, you will receive fifty strokes.” Crack. The cane struck my body, and a red welt rose at once. Father struck me more than a dozen times. The swollen marks gradually split open. Every blow after that carried a numbing, burning agony. I thought of what they had said, that Lyra had begged for the cane. It must have been soaked in pepper wine. “Apologize to your sister!” “Will you apologize or not?” Father could not get the answer he wanted, so his anger only grew. After fifty strokes, my entire back and both arms were covered in wounds. Each gash gaped open, flesh turned outward, thin lines of blood sliding down my spine onto the floor. Pain had numbed my whole body. I curled into the corner, gasping for breath. After Father finished beating me, he threw down the cane and left. Before he went, he left one sentence behind. “Stubborn to the end.” Phaethon walked over and crouched in front of me. “Lyra prepared medicine and clothing for you. Cleione, Lyra has always treated you with respect and courtesy. As her elder sister, and as her brother-in-law, we should both take better care of her. Why must you be so petty and filthy-minded?” “Once you’ve thought it through, hurry up and apologize. Stop making us angry.” He shook out the clothes Lyra had prepared for me. Then, with what he thought was care, he laid them over my back. The instant the fabric touched my body full of wounds, it felt as though I had fallen into salt water. I curled up from the pain. “So delicate.” Phaethon curled his lip and stood. “Lyra turns pale from pain every time she falls ill, and even she doesn’t exaggerate like this.” He left. It took me a long time to catch my breath. “Moirai…” The voice of the Loom of Fate rang beside my ear. “Daughter of fate, would you like to activate pain shielding?” “No.” I gritted my teeth. “I want to speed up the severing of the fate threads.” “Very well. Acceleration has begun. At noon tomorrow, everyone connected to you and blessed by you will suffer the backlash.”

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I ran through the toxic haze. My lungs were on fire. I didn’t care. Six hours ago, my mate’s voice had cut through our matebond: “Clara—rogues everywhere, come save me!” So I came. Briars tore my skin. Poison seeped into the cuts. I felt each one—and kept running. My legs stopped feeling like mine somewhere back there. I didn’t care about that either. “Luna—” My subordinate’s voice cracked through the link. “Get out of there! He was never there.” “He’s with Tessa. Watching her try on your wedding dress.” The words stopped me cold. The ground didn’t move with me. Neither did the haze. Just me. Frozen. “CLARA—RUN!” My wolf’s scream ripped through my chest. I turned. Too late. Emerald eyes ignited in the gloom. A blur of fur and fangs erupted from the dark. I threw my arm up— Teeth sank into my throat! … The night stretched into a mindless eternity. Everything dissolved into a blur of blood, rain, and bone-chilling screams. By the time the first cold rays of dawn hit my face, I was a broken, blood-stained mess. But I was alive. And the Clara who loved Xavier was dead. Bzzz. My phone vibrated. A text from Thomas, my most loyal sentinel. “Luna, I’m sorry. Alpha Xavier has been in contact with her the entire time. Last night, he rented out the Peak Penthouse. He’s throwing her a welcome-back gala.” Then came the video. In the clip, Xavier stood before a grand, gilded mirror. He was adjusting a delicate white veil over a woman’s soft brown curls. He was smiling—that same tender, breathless smile he used to give me before we mated. I checked the timestamp. 9:47 PM. While the rogues were tearing the meat from my bones, he was playing dress-up with his ex. My thumb hovered over the screen, a bead of blood from my mangled hand dripping onto the image, staining Tessa’s perfect, radiant smile. It also shattered the lie I’d spent months forcing myself to believe. Six months ago, Xavier had knelt by my dying father’s bedside. He’d sworn on his wolf’s life that he would never see her again. Ended up…a Lie. Every word out of his mouth had been a calculated lie. I dialed his number. It rang for a long, agonizing minute before he finally picked up. “Clara?” His voice was deep, smooth. In the background, I could hear it—the faint, elegant swell of a violin. “Where are you?” I asked, my voice a hollow shell. “I told you,” He sighed, that patronizing tone creeping in. “Rogues blocked the pass. I’m at the border cabin.” “Are you hurt?” “No. Just a weak signal.” He paused, his voice dropping into a low, practiced hum of concern. “Why are you still awake? Are you scared of the storm?” “Come on, Clara. Don’t be so dramatic. You’re stronger than that.” Stronger? I looked down at my leg. The wound still burned. Blood and mud caked the the empty place where the flesh had been. “Does the cabin have a live orchestra, Xavier?” I whispered. The line went dead silent. “The cabin owner has an old record player,” He chuckled, mocking. “Are you really calling to micromanage me, Clara? I’ve had a long day and I’m not doing this with you.” The classic move. Make me out to be the crazy one. The paranoid mate. Anything to escape accountability. “I’m not fighting, Xavier.” “Then be a good girl and go to sleep,” he said, his voice softening again, though the edge remained. “I’ll bring you those lemon scones from Magnolia’s tomorrow. Your favorite.” Magnolia’s lemon scones. They were Tessa’s absolute favorite. I was highly allergic to them. He hadn’t just forgotten—he had never cared enough to remember. “Okay,” I said. It wasn’t compromise. It was giving up. “Love you. Sleep tight.” The line went dead. I stared at the black screen until a notification popped up. It was a new post from Tessa’s private account. A close-up of Xavier’s hand—unmistakable with his heavy, obsidian Alpha ring—tracing the curve of her collarbone. Her caption: He promised that no matter who he married, I would always be his first priority.

I dragged myself into the Peak Penthouse. My jacket was soaked through, sticking to my skin like ice, and my muddy boots squeaked with every step. The security guard stopped me twice, but when I showed him my wedding photo with Xavier, he let me through with a look of pity. I headed for the VIP elevators. Before I could arrive, the doors slid open. Xavier stood inside. Italian suit. Top buttons undone—that effortless, rugged thing he did. Tessa was draped against his chest. White silk dress. Delicate curls. A veil falling from her hair. That was my wedding dress. “Xavier, my feet hurt,” she whimpered, pouting. Without hesitation, my proud Alpha husband knelt on the cold elevator floor, gently lifting her ankle. “I told you not to wear those heels, princess.” “But they’re pretty!” She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. “You used to love watching me dance in them.” “That was before,” he murmured, his voice dripping with affection. “Now, if you hurt yourself, I’ll have to lock you in my room.” Then Xavier carried her heels in one hand, his other arm securely wrapped around her waist. I stood behind a massive concrete pillar, watching them. A sudden wave of nausea hit me, so violent I had to press my hand against the cold stone to keep from collapsing. Then my eyes met Tessa’s. Her gaze swept over my wild hair, my muddy face, and the dried blood crusting on my leg. A tiny, cruel smirk played on her lips. “Xavier,” she said, her voice echoing in the quiet garage. “Look at that poor girl over there. She looks like a filthy stray.” Xavier didn’t even turn his head. He didn’t waste a single glance on the woman who had almost died in a rogue-infested forest for him. “Don’t look at that trash, Tessa,” he said, pulling her closer to his side. “You’ll ruin your eyes.” Trash… I laughed bitterly—silently. That was it. That was what I’d nearly died for. I watched they walked toward the revolving glass doors. Tessa paused, “Xavier, wasn’t yesterday your Mate Anniversary? If you spent the whole night with me, won’t Clara be mad?” Xavier’s footsteps halted. “Why are you even bringing her up?” His voice dripping with irritation. “I just don’t want her to be jealous. She always keeps such a tight leash on you.” “She’s just bored,” Xavier sneered. “Aside from hovering over me, what else does she even do?” He tossed Tessa’s heels to a valet and yanked off his tie to wipe his hands— the same silk tie I’d hand-picked and given him just yesterday morning. “And yet, you still chose her to be your mate.” Tessa pouted, her voice trailing into a whine. “I only mated her cause she was easy. No drama. The pack wanted a trophy Luna, so I gave ’em one.” With that, he tossed the silk tie into a trash can. He had promised to wear it close to his heart. Now, it was buried under garbage. “Tessa, remember this,” he said, pulling her close. “A mate bond is just about politics and pack duty.” “She is fit to be the Luna. But you are the only one I want to protect.” Tessa beamed, leaning up to kiss his cheek. Then Xavier pulled her flush against him and kissed her back hard. A dull ache flared in my chest—a pain so familiar it had practically lived there for months. Xavier had always told me it was just the bond echoing his injuries from the training grounds. I bought it all. I was so naive. I thought I was just feeling his physical pain, the way mates do. I’d forgotten that betrayal burns just as hot. Then I felt it—a different kind of ache. Lower. Deeper. My pup…was crying. Hurting. My palm pressed flat against my stomach. Right there, a tiny, fragile heartbeat was fighting to survive. A two-month-old pup. I had planned to tell him during our anniversary dinner last night. But then he told me he was trapped by rogues in the Forbidden Forest of Death. I had driven three hours through a deadly storm, braving the rogue wolf scent, crawling through the mud to save him. I thought he was dying. Instead, he was making out with another woman. Their tangled figures blurred before my eyes, and then, I saw a flash of blue fire. Coming from Tessa’s neck. When my gaze caught The Lunar Tear, my breath stopped. Xavier had bought it at an auction three months ago, proudly telling the media it was a gift for his “beloved mate.” So I waited, day after day, expecting him to give it to me on our anniversary. Now, that very sapphire was glittering around Tessa’s neck. It felt like a physical slap to the face.

The cramping in my abdomen grew sharper, an agonizing tearing sensation that made me gasp. I dragged myself to a bus stop, clutching my stomach as I slid onto the metal bench. A black SUV rolled out of the underground garage, stopping at the red light right in front of me. Xavier was behind the wheel. Then my phone rang. His name flashed on the screen. His voice echoed through his car’s speakers, drifting out of his half-open window. “Hey, babe. The roads finally cleared, so I’m heading home now.” His voice was incredibly warm, dripping with that fake, loving concern. “I got those lemon scones from Magnolia’s for you. They’re still warm.” Through his window, I watched him reach over to brush a strand of hair from Tessa’s face. Tessa giggled, biting into a scone he was holding out to her. “Is it good?” he whispered to her, his lips moving silently. “Xavier,” I gripped my phone, whispering. “What’s wrong? Your voice sounds weak. Did you catch a cold?” “If I told you I was standing outside the Peak Penthouse right now…” I stared at his car. “Would you step out and look at me?” A beat of slience. Then, he let out a dry, forced chuckle. “Clara, stop playing games.” “I went to the Forbidden Forest of Death to save you last night.” I said. His laugh vanished. It was replaced by a cold, harsh growl. “Clara, are you insane? I told you I was safe. Why do you always have to create drama?” “Do you have any idea how much trouble you almost cost me? You really want the pack elders asking questions about why you were out there alone?” So that was all he cared about. Not me bleeding in the woods. Not me almost dying. Just what the elders would say. There was nothing left to say. I wanted to hang up— Then the pain hit. A full-body seizure of it, white-hot and blinding. “Xavier, my stomach hurts,” I whimpered, curling in on myself as a warm wetness soaked through my pants. “Then take some medicine. I’m an Alpha, Clara, not a healer.” his voice was cold. Too cold. At the same time, in the passenger seat, Tessa suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach with a dramatic groan. Xavier’s face went completely pale. “Tessa? What’s wrong? Is your stomach flaring up again?” He didn’t even bother to cover the phone. The raw, desperate panic in his voice sliced right through me. “Xavier… it hurts so bad,” Tessa whimpered. “Don’t worry, I’m taking you to the pack hospital right now.” The SUV roared to life, surging forward. The tires kicked up a wave of muddy, freezing street water, drenching me from head to toe. The call went dead. I slid off the bench onto the wet pavement, my vision blurring into a dark, bloody red. Someone was screaming in the distance, calling for an ambulance, but my mind was already slipping away. When I finally opened my eyes, the harsh smell of bleach filled my nose. A nurse was changing my IV drip, her eyes filled with pity. “I’m so sorry, Clara. We couldn’t save your pup.” “You arrived too late. The hypothermia and the sheer physical trauma… it was too much.” I stared at the white ceiling. So that was it. I waited for the tears. For the anger. For anything. Nothing came. I just felt completely hollow. The nurse sighed softly and slipped out of the room. I picked up my phone. The screen lit up with messages from Xavier. “Something came up at the pack house. I won’t be home tonight.” “I left the scones in the kitchen. Make sure you eat them.” “Clara, stop giving me the silent treatment. You were the one acting crazy last night.” He was still playing his usual game, expecting me to crawl back the moment he threw me a bone. I didn’t reply. Instead, I opened a hidden folder on my phone. Inside was all the evidence my private investigator had gathered six months ago. The lease for Tessa’s luxury apartment, the bank transfers, the hotel bookings. I used to think I would use this to scream at him, to demand answers. Now, I just felt disgusted. I called my family’s lawyer. “Mr. Vance, prepare the divorce papers.” “Luna Clara? Are you sure? What about the asset division?” “I only want what belongs to my family. But every single cent he spent on Tessa? I want it clawed back.” After hanging up, I dialed Xavier’s number. He answered almost instantly. In the background, I could hear the steady beep of hospital monitors. “Clara? Done throwing your tantrum?” His tone was insufferably arrogant. “I knew you’d call.” I looked out the window, my mind clearer than it had been in years. “Xavier, let’s get a divorce.”

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1 After my college roommates started getting into relationships one after another, they became obsessed with setting me up. Unable to handle the constant pressure, I did what any desperate person would do; I invented a boyfriend. One evening, after a late-night dinner with the girls, everyone’s significant other showed up to pick them up. To keep my lie from collapsing, I casually lied. “My boyfriend has to work overtime tonight, so he can’t make it.” But the moment we walked out of the restaurant, a sleek black Mercedes executive sedan pulled up to the curb. A driver wearing white gloves stepped out and opened the door for me. “Good evening, Miss Emma. Your boyfriend booked this luxury ride to take you back to campus. It is an honor to serve you.” I froze on the spot. I was single to my very core. The boyfriend was a complete fabrication, a ghost in my own imagination. So who on earth had ordered this car? … “Emma, you are way too modest! This is what you call an ordinary, working-class boyfriend?” “No wonder you kept making excuses when we tried to set you up. You’ve been holding onto a secret millionaire this whole time!” My mouth twitched, but I couldn’t utter a single syllable. During my two years at university, this imaginary boyfriend had been the perfect shield. When my classmates invited me to go to a club until three in the morning and I didn’t want to go, I would say my boyfriend didn’t like me staying out late. When an upperclassman tried to pursue me and I wanted to reject him politely, I would say I was already taken. It was incredibly convenient. But the reality was that I was twenty-one years old and had never even held a boy’s hand. Looking a guy in the eye for more than a second made me want to curl up and disappear. Where would I get a boyfriend? I stole a glance at the driver. He stood by the open door, his back straight as a rod, looking entirely professional. He definitely didn’t seem like the type to make a mistake. “Excuse me, are you sure you have the right person? My name is Emma.” “There is no mistake, Miss Emma. The reservation has your name and phone number. You can check the screen if you’d like.” The driver held out his tablet. The booking platform displayed my name and my exact phone number. My mind went entirely blank. Who was this? I glanced at my roommates out of the corner of my eye. Could they be pulling a massive prank on me? But Lily was busy clinging to her boyfriend’s arm, whispering sweet nothings. Nora was looking down at her phone, a soft, genuine smile on her lips as she texted her guy. Phoebe was tapping her foot, impatiently waiting for her boyfriend to pull his car around. None of the three showed even a hint of suspicion. “Miss Emma, please step inside. Your boyfriend was very specific about making sure you returned to your dorm safely,” the driver urged gently. My roommates began pushing me toward the back seat, and with no other option, I climbed in. The ride was incredibly smooth. The driver didn’t say a single word the entire trip. When we arrived at my dorm building, I opened my mouth to ask for the name of the gentleman who had booked the ride, but the driver simply gave a polite nod, got back in, and sped away. I stood in the chilly night air for a long time before finally walking upstairs. The moment I pushed the dorm door open, I saw a beautifully wrapped gift box sitting on my desk. I hadn’t ordered anything online recently. After hesitating for several minutes, I carefully unwrapped the box. Inside was a complete, high-end luxury skincare set. Just yesterday, I had casually mentioned in the dorm that I wondered if I would ever be able to afford such an expensive brand by the time I turned thirty. A small card rested on top of the bottles. No need to wait until you are thirty. You can have it now. Loving you always, your boyfriend. Phoebe and the others walked in just then. When they saw the famous, incredibly expensive skincare set on my desk, their eyes nearly popped out of their heads. “Oh my god, isn’t this the set that costs over two thousand dollars? Emma, your man is insanely generous!” “Emma, you need to tell us the truth. Is your boyfriend a corporate executive or a trust-fund baby?” I shoved the bottles back into the box, my face pale. “What is wrong? Aren’t you happy to get a gift?” Phoebe nudged my arm. “Did you guys get into a fight?” I didn’t answer. The only people who knew I was dining at that specific restaurant tonight, and the only people who heard me wish for that skincare set, were the three girls in this room. Was it really a prank? But these things cost a fortune. We were all broke college students; who would spend this kind of money just to mess with me? I turned the box over and found the shipping label to check the sender’s information. The sender field was completely blurred out, marked as a private, high-security shipment. It was terrifyingly stealthy. I lay in bed that night, tossing and turning, unable to find a single logical explanation. The next morning, as I walked downstairs with heavy dark circles under my eyes, the dorm supervisor called out to me. “Emma! Perfect timing, someone left breakfast for you!” My heart sank with a terrible premonition. Sure enough, when I took the insulated bag from the courier, I found a warm container of custard-filled cronuts and a hot white chocolate mocha. A card was tucked into the side, the handwriting elegant and smooth. Remember to eat breakfast. Don’t go to class on an empty stomach. Loving you always, your boyfriend. My hand shook, nearly dropping the container. The supervisor offered a knowing, sweet smile. “You’re a very lucky girl.” The courier added, “Your boyfriend was worried you wouldn’t have time to stop by the dining hall before your early class, and he didn’t want you eating cold food. He had me time the delivery perfectly.” A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. The professor had only announced the rescheduled seven AM class on our private group chat late last night. How could this person possibly know my schedule? As the courier turned to leave, I grabbed his sleeve. “Wait! Please, can you tell me what my boyfriend looks like?” The courier stared at me as if I had lost my mind. I forced a strained laugh. “We met online. We haven’t actually met in person yet.” The courier’s eyes lit up with understanding. “I didn’t see him myself, Miss Emma, but with a boyfriend this attentive, you should definitely hold onto him.” I mumbled a thank you, carried the bag to my classroom, and stared at the card. The handwriting was completely unfamiliar. I had never seen it before in my life. It was possible the sender had simply paid the bakery to write the note. The cronuts were still piping hot. They were from a famous bakery located ten miles away from campus, a place I only treated myself to when I won a scholarship. This person knew my exact tastes, my exact schedule, and my exact location. The more I thought about it, the more my skin crawled. Phoebe slid into the seat next to me, her eyes lighting up when she saw the pastry box. “Wow, your boyfriend again? Those pastries are so expensive. I wanted to get them last week, but the price made me walk right out.” She leaned over to read the card, letting out an exaggerated gasp. “He even writes cute little cards! How romantic! Emma, you must have saved a kingdom in your past life.” I offered a weak smile, keeping my mouth shut. If I saved a kingdom, then who was going to save me now? If someone actually had a crush on me, why were they lurking in the shadows, pretending to be a boyfriend I had made up? The gifts kept coming, relentless and precise. When the tip of my favorite fountain pen broke during a lecture, a brand-new one was sitting on my desk the very next morning. When I got my period and was doubling over with cramps, a heating patch and a thermos of chamomile tea appeared in my desk drawer by the afternoon. There was even an advanced calculus problem I had been struggling with for hours. While I stepped out to use the restroom, a page of neatly handwritten steps appeared on my notebook. Every step was perfectly clear, with a small note at the bottom: Keep going, you’re going to do great. And the signature was always the same: Loving you always, your boyfriend. Even my classmates started teasing me. “Emma, when are you going to let us meet this mysterious, perfect boyfriend of yours?” “Exactly! You’ve been hiding him for so long, are you worried we’re going to steal him?” I could only offer awkward laughs to brush it off. But the terror inside me was growing. This person was everywhere. They knew my schedule, my preferences, and my daily struggles. I stopped talking in my dorm room entirely, constantly feeling like a pair of invisible eyes was watching my every move. The breaking point came when I went home for the weekend. My mother confessed that our family’s florist shop was struggling financially and she was thinking of closing it down, even though it was our only source of income. I hid under my blanket that night and cried myself to sleep, telling absolutely no one. The next morning, my mother woke me up, her voice trembling. “Emma, wake up! I just got a call from the corporate office of the Grand Plaza Hotel. They want our shop to be their exclusive floral provider!” I sat up in bed, thrilled. “That is amazing, Mom! Now we don’t have to close the shop!” “But, they also sent this card with the contract.” My hand began to shake as I took the familiar card from her. The joy drained from my face instantly. A gift for my future mother-in-law. Loving you always, your boyfriend. The blood froze in my veins. I sank back onto the mattress, paralyzed. I had cried about the florist shop last night. And by this morning, the problem was solved? Just then, my phone buzzed with an anonymous text message. Don’t cry. I’m here now. I couldn’t take it anymore. I dialed the number in a frenzy of panic. But a cold, mechanical voice replied: “We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is not in service.” I called the Grand Plaza Hotel. The corporate manager told me that their client had strictly forbidden them from releasing any personal information. The terror was suffocating. This person knew about my family’s private financial struggles. It was impossible. Unless… I stripped off my clothes and had my mother inspect my body for any hidden tracking devices. Then, I bought an infrared detector and swept every corner of our house, but found absolutely nothing. I stared at my phone. Was it possible that my device had been infected with a tracking virus? That afternoon, I went to a local electronics shop, sold my phone, and purchased a brand-new device along with a new SIM card under a different number. The transaction cost me a chunk of my monthly allowance, but I was too terrified to care. I didn’t dare stay at home, returning to campus that very evening. Thankfully, over the next three days, no strange gifts appeared. I was just starting to let my guard down when I had a dream. In the dream, a man whose face was obscured by a soft mist spoke to me, his voice low and laced with a gentle sadness. “Emma, did you not like the things I sent you?” “It is almost your twentieth birthday, baby. I’m going to send you a nice, big gift so you can buy whatever your heart desires.” I bolted upright in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. Aside from my mother, no one knew that I had altered my birth year on my identification documents by a year so I could enroll in primary school early. Everyone at university believed I was twenty-one. I had never told a single friend, and my roommates definitely didn’t know. While I was trying to process this, my new phone buzzed. I picked it up. It was a notification from my bank. A wire transfer of three hundred thousand dollars had just cleared. The memo line read: Happy 20th birthday, baby. I dropped the phone onto the floor. The screen remained lit, the massive number staring back at me. Phoebe was woke up by the sound, asking sleepily what was wrong. I quickly snatched the phone and turned off the screen. “Nothing, just a nightmare.” I pulled the blanket over my head, shivering. The dream and the notification had lined up perfectly. The three hundred thousand dollars was exactly what the man in my dream had promised. Could this really be coming from my nonexistent boyfriend? It was completely insane. I tossed and turned until sunrise, heading straight to the bank the moment it opened. I wanted to return the funds, but the teller informed me that they couldn’t process a return without the sender’s verified account information. “Miss, if you are truly concerned about the origin of these funds, I suggest you contact the police.” Her words snapped me out of my daze. Yes. The police. I walked out of the bank, but before I could pull out my phone to dial the emergency line, someone called my name. I turned around to see my university counselor, and beside him stood two uniformed police officers. Before coming to the bank, I had sent a frantic email to my counselor about the mysterious funds, which explained why he was here. “Emma, thank goodness we found you. These officers need to speak with you.” My heart did a violent flip. One of the officers stepped forward, displaying his badge. “Emma? We received a report regarding a series of highly suspicious financial transactions and high-value gifts sent to your name, including a recent transfer of three hundred thousand dollars. We need you to come with us to the station to assist with an investigation.” My head spun. Who had reported this to the police before I could? I followed them to the station, sitting in a stark interrogation room as the questions began to fly. “Who sent these items to you?” “Where did the three hundred thousand dollars come from?” “What is your boyfriend’s name and contact information?” I clutched the edge of my shirt, my palms slick with sweat. “I don’t have a boyfriend. I don’t know who sent those things, and I don’t know who transferred that money.” The officer frowned. “No boyfriend? But everyone at your university has stated that you’ve been in a committed relationship for two years.” “I made him up!” I cried, my voice trembling. “I just wanted to avoid being set up, so I invented him. I don’t have a boyfriend!” The two officers exchanged a dark look. “Emma, we need you to cooperate. The delivery records and the bank transfer are all registered in your name. Do you really expect us to believe you have no idea who is behind this?” “I really don’t know!” Tears began to spill down my cheeks. “I want to know who is doing this more than anyone! I changed my phone, I changed my number, but he still found me. He even knew about my mother’s flower shop!” The officers questioned me for another hour before finally letting me go, telling me to remain in the city and keep my phone active. By the time I walked out of the station, the sky was dark. The freezing wind bit at my face, and my head throbbed with a dull, persistent ache. I kept my head down as I walked back toward campus, constantly sensing someone following me. But when I spun around, the sidewalk was completely empty. I quickened my pace, and as I reached the university gates, I saw Phoebe waiting for me. Her face was twisted in a look of disgust. “Emma, tell me the truth. Are you being kept by some sugar daddy?” I froze. “What?” “Otherwise, where did all those things come from? And that three hundred thousand dollars? Who hands out that kind of cash for no reason?” Phoebe’s voice was incredibly loud, and several passing students stopped to stare. “You’re always acting so quiet and humble, and your family is broke. Who would spend this kind of money on you? Stop pretending, Emma. Everyone knows.” The whispers around us grew louder, and the judgmental stares felt like needles poking into my skin. I stood there, my entire body turning cold. I looked up at the dark sky, and suddenly, a violent, cracking pain exploded in my skull. My legs gave out, and the world began to tilt. But in the fraction of a second before I hit the ground, a rush of understanding flooded my mind. I finally understood what was happening. And as the darkness took me, a strange, frantic hope bloomed in my chest.

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1 Dr. Franklin Prescott was a saint in the eyes of the public. To the medical world, he was a pioneering savior, a man of profound mercy. But to me, he was a monster. He was the man who drove my mother mad and tossed his wife and daughter aside like garbage. Thirty years ago, on a rainy night, my mother caught him in bed with his mistress. The very next morning, she was bound in a straightjacket and hauled off to an asylum. By the time she was finally released, her mind was completely shattered. She ended up giving birth to my younger brother under a cold concrete bridge. I was only six years old when I had to shoulder the weight of our ruined lives. I clawed my way up from the dirt, fighting through the dark until I became the chief psychiatric expert at this very hospital. And today, a very special patient was referred to my clinic. It was Tyler Prescott, the golden boy Franklin had with the mistress who successfully usurped my mother’s place. Tyler had gone drag-racing while wasted, plowing into a crowded bus stop and killing over a dozen people. Now, he was lounging in my office, expecting me to sign off on a forged psychiatric evaluation to get him off the hook. The hospital board has been breathing down my neck, demanding I cooperate. But none of them know that I have been waiting for this exact day for thirty years. … Inside the evaluation room, I kept my eyes on the thick file in my hands. Across from me, a young man in his early twenties sat on the leather sofa, one leg crossed over the other. He kept his head down, scrolling through his phone, occasionally letting out a soft, mocking chuckle. He did not have a care in the world. “Look, Dr. Brooks, let’s not dance around this.” Tyler pulled a thick stack of hundred-dollar bills from his designer bag and slapped it onto my desk. “Just make the report a little vague. Say I suffer from intermittent blackouts. Do that, and this cash is yours.” Tyler Prescott. He was the precious son of my hypocrite father, Franklin, and his mistress, Brenda. Three days ago, Tyler had drunk-driven a heavily modified sports car through a red light downtown. He smashed right into a crowded bus stop, killing four people instantly and leaving nine critically injured. The tragedy sparked outrage across the city. Yet, Tyler had spent less than twenty-four hours in holding before being released on bail. The excuse was a suspected psychiatric episode that required a forensic evaluation. And the doctor assigned to write that evaluation was me. I closed the folder and looked him in the eye. “Tyler, based on all your test results, your mental state is completely normal. I will not sign off on a falsified evaluation to excuse your crimes.” “What did you just say?” “I think I made myself clear.” The lazy smirk vanished from Tyler’s face, replaced by a sudden, ugly rage. He slammed his hands on the desk and stood up, sending the stack of bills scattering across the floor. A few notes drifted onto my white lab coat. “Don’t play the saint with me!” his voice rose to a harsh shout. “My dad is Franklin Prescott. You better think long and hard about whether you want to disrespect his name.” I looked down at the bills on the floor and remained still. He took a step closer, his tone turning smug. “Listen, Dr. Brooks, the alcohol in my system is long gone. If you quietly edit the report, no one will ever know.” “You took over a dozen lives.” “They shouldn’t have been standing there,” he shrugged, entirely indifferent. “I’ll tell you one more time: my dad is Franklin Prescott. A woman with no backing doesn’t climb to chief of psychiatry easily. You should know when to take a helping hand.” His eyes slowly slid from my face down to my collar. “But hey, if you want to play nice with me instead, I’m down. I’m not picky.” I stared at his face. The brow, the bridge of his nose, the curl of his lip, he looked exactly like a young Franklin. He possessed the same condescending arrogance Franklin had shown thirty years ago when he ruined my mother with a single, casual sentence. It made my stomach turn. I picked up the bills that had landed on my coat, placed them back on the desk, and pushed them toward him. “Your father was the one who insisted on inviting the media to witness this process. Every major step of this evaluation has been recorded on video and audio. My conclusion is based entirely on objective medical data. There is no room for negotiation.” Right on cue, the office door was pushed open. Three journalists carrying heavy camera gear filed into the room, and the red recording lights flickered to life. “Good afternoon, everyone. We are live from the hospital for Tyler Prescott’s psychiatric evaluation results…” Tyler had clearly not expected me to actually go through with it. Facing the cameras, I calmly laid out the evaluation process, the tests administered, and the raw data. Then, I delivered the final blow. “The subject, Tyler Prescott, shows no signs of cognitive or psychiatric impairment. He is fully competent to stand trial.” “His decision to drive under the influence was a deliberate act. There are no psychological factors that would limit his understanding of his actions or his control over them.” The live chat on the broadcast erupted. Tyler jumped to his feet, knocking his chair back with a loud screech. “You’re going to regret this! Just wait, my dad is going to ruin you!” He shoved a camera out of his way and stormed out of the office. A reporter tried to follow him for a comment, but Tyler kicked the microphone out of her hand. I stood there, watching his shadow disappear down the hallway. Thirty years have passed. I wonder if my dear father will finally recognize his own daughter. And I wonder if he will remember the woman he broke. As soon as the broadcast ended, I was summoned to the director’s office. “Audrey, you are one of our brightest young minds, you have a brilliant future ahead of you,” Director Crawford said, slamming his teacup onto his mahogany desk. “Do you have any idea who Franklin Prescott is? He is the Vice President of the Medical Association. He chairs three major journals. He practically wrote the state guidelines for psychiatry. If he asks you for a minor favor, you take the exit he offers. Why on earth did you have to pull a stunt like that on a live broadcast?” I stood straight before him. “Director Crawford, the evaluation is based on facts. He committed a crime, and he should face the law.” Crawford slammed his hand on the desk. “He ran people over, which is a matter for the police and the courts! Since when is it a psychiatrist’s job to play judge and executioner?” “Forensic evaluation is part of the legal process. If anyone doubts my findings, they are welcome to request a secondary evaluation through the proper channels.” “You’re lecturing me on the proper channels?” Crawford scoffed, temporarily speechless. He knew as well as I did that the state randomly assigns forensic evaluators to prevent tampering. Even with all their influence, they couldn’t bypass the system easily. “Audrey, it’s good for young people to have principles, but you can’t fight a brick wall. Go apologize to Franklin. Soften the wording of the report, and we can make this go away. He is not someone you want as an enemy.” “The report stays as it is.” Crawford took a deep, trembling breath. “Then you are suspended. Leave your keys and stay out of the ward until this is resolved.” I turned and walked out. By that evening, the internet was flooded with targeted articles about me. #AudreyBrooksEvaluationControversy #InsiderExposesAudreyBrooks A prominent tabloid account posted a scathing update: “An anonymous source reveals that Dr. Audrey Brooks, a young psychiatrist who rose through the ranks via questionable connections, targeted Tyler Prescott after he rejected her personal advances.” Attached was a cropped photo from an academic conference a few years ago, edited to make it look like Tyler and I were sharing an intimate moment. The caption read: “If I can’t have you, I’ll destroy you?” The comment section went wild. How is this woman even allowed to practice medicine? No wonder she wouldn’t sign the papers. She was just mad she couldn’t bag a rich guy. Disgusting. She’s using her position for a personal vendetta. Investigation needed. Then came the coordinated wave of fabricated scandals. Someone posted “wild photos” of me at a nightclub, which were actually heavily edited pictures from a department karaoke night three years ago, with my clothes photoshopped to look provocative. Others targeted my academic record, claiming I had plagiarized my thesis, using the records of another student with a similar name. They even forged a text message exchange showing me negotiating a bribe with a patient’s family. The comments grew viler by the minute. With a face like that, no wonder he turned her down. A psychiatrist? She looks like she belongs in a ward herself. She needs to be fired before she hurts anyone else. The next morning, a crowd of strangers was waiting for me outside the hospital gates. People thrust their phones into my face, recording me, while others deliberately bumped into me. One man waved a consultation slip, sneering, “Hey, Dr. Brooks, my head feels a bit funny. Why don’t you give me a private exam?” The security guards barely managed to push them back. Meanwhile, Franklin Prescott granted an exclusive interview to a major news outlet. He wore his white lab coat, his hair perfectly coiffed with silver at the temples, his expression heavy with sorrow. “As an elder in the medical community, I don’t wish to criticize a junior colleague. However, forensic psychiatry is about human freedom and reputation. When personal emotions are allowed to dictate a professional evaluation, it damages our entire industry.” He never mentioned my name. But everyone knew who he was talking about. The comment section praised him. “Dr. Prescott is a class act. He’s still defending the profession after being targeted like this.” “He has spent his life saving people. To see his son treated this way is heartbreaking.” “This is what happens when good people get taken advantage of.” By that afternoon, the hospital board issued a formal notice. “In light of the severe negative public impact caused by Dr. Audrey Brooks, the board has determined that Dr. Brooks must deliver a formal apology to Professor Franklin Prescott within three days and revise Tyler Prescott’s evaluation. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination.” The HR director hand-delivered the letter to me, adding a quiet warning. “Audrey, don’t say I didn’t warn you. This is your last chance.” I looked down at the thin sheet of paper. A formal apology? Perhaps it was indeed time to pay a visit to the man who ruined my mother’s life. The Prescott estate was nestled in the exclusive gated community in the eastern hills. The driveway was flanked by ancient, manicured pines that had reportedly cost a fortune to import. When the housekeeper led me through the grounds, a lavish afternoon tea was laid out in the garden. Brenda was sitting with a group of wealthy socialites, chatting over fine china. “Brenda, you and Dr. Prescott are truly a fairytale couple,” a woman with a round face gushed. “After all these years, he still dotes on you.” Brenda sighed, putting on a show of elegant melancholy. “Well, we had our share of trials. His first wife was… unstable, to say the least. She put poor Franklin through so much pain.” “Oh, really? Was it that bad?” “It was dreadful,” Brenda shook her head. “She lost her mind right after they married. Screaming, throwing things. Franklin was kind enough to pay for her treatment, but she escaped the facility. She took the kids and vanished. Franklin spent years looking for them.” “How tragic. Dr. Prescott is such a saint to have endured that.” “Exactly. Brenda, you are the one who truly stood by him through the hard times.” My fingernails dug deep into the palms of my hands. Brenda. Thirty years ago, she was just a shampoo girl at a cheap salon near our apartment complex. Now, she was the lady of the manor. Drugged into madness. Sent away out of kindness. Escaped. Every word out of her mouth was a calculated lie. When Franklin had nothing, it was my mother who married him against her parents’ wishes, cutting ties with her own family to support his dreams. For years, Franklin didn’t bring home a single dime, leaving my mother to work triple shifts at a textile factory to keep us fed. When my mother’s parents passed away, Franklin went as far as to block her phone calls, ensuring she never got to say goodbye. And the moment he gained status and wealth, he turned around and slept with a salon girl. When my mother discovered the truth, she didn’t get an apology. She got hauled off to an asylum, injected with experimental sedatives, and systematically driven out of her mind. Brenda raised her teacup, pretending to notice me just then. She tilted her head, her gaze sweeping over me with cold disdain, before turning to the maid. “Martha, you must be getting old. Since when do we let stray dogs into the garden?” The other women smothered their snickers behind their silk napkins. I kept my voice perfectly level. “Brenda, I am here to see Franklin. Tell him I’m here.” “See Franklin?” Brenda arched an eyebrow. “My husband is busy. Come back another day.” Before she could finish, footsteps echoed from the veranda. Tyler stepped down the stairs, dressed in designer loungewear, an unlit cigarette dangling from his lips. He paused when he saw me, then let out a loud, mocking laugh. “Well, well. If it isn’t Dr. Brooks.” He ambled over, hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking down at me with supreme satisfaction. “Regretting your little stunt now?” “It would have been so much easier if you had just listened to me in the first place,” he said, flicking his collar. “But in the end, you still have to crawl back and beg for mercy.” He turned and called out to Brenda, “Hey Mom, I’m heading out!” He brushed past me, deliberately slamming his shoulder into mine as he walked toward a brand-new Porsche parked in the driveway. The car he used to kill those people was still impounded, yet he already had a replacement. The engine roared to life, and he drove off as if he hadn’t a care in the world. I clenched my fists and took a step toward the house. “Dr. Brooks?” A deep, commanding voice called out from behind me. I turned. Franklin Prescott stood there, dressed in a grey cashmere cardigan, his silver hair perfectly styled. He looked at the scene in the garden, bid a polite farewell to his guests, and gestured for me to follow him into his study. The walls of his study were lined with photographs of him shaking hands with city officials and prestigious medical boards. Below them sat rows of trophies. The largest trophy in the center was engraved with the words: To a Healer of Great Mercy. The moment the heavy oak door clicked shut, his elegant demeanor vanished. “Audrey, I’ve looked into your file,” he said, crossing his fingers on the desk. “Making chief at thirty-two is an impressive feat. You are a smart girl. You must know what this evaluation report means for your career.” He opened a drawer and slid a thick envelope across the desk. “Inside is a formal nomination for the state medical board, along with two prestigious offers from private clinics. If you help me with this minor issue, all of this is yours. I will also personally see to it that the online rumors about you disappear.” I didn’t move. His voice softened, taking on a warm, paternal tone. “Tyler is my only son. I am getting old, and he is my legacy. As a doctor, surely you can understand a father’s heart.” “I understand you have a younger brother, and your mother’s mental health is… precarious. You of all people should know that a father will do absolutely anything to protect his child.” He had investigated me. He knew about my brother, my mother, and where we lived. But he still had no idea who I actually was. I reached into my pocket and quietly pressed the record button on my device. “Dr. Prescott, the report stands. If you want to fire me, go ahead.” Franklin had expected me to bow my head. Seeing me defy him, his paternal mask cracked, and he slammed his hand onto the desk as he stood up. “You are a woman with no family, no backing, and no influence. Do you honestly think you can survive in this industry if you cross me?” I reached for the door handle, not bothering to look back. “You can certainly try to stop me.” As I stepped out, the sound of a heavy crystal glass shattering against the mahogany desk echoed behind me. In the garden, Brenda was still laughing with her friends, bragging about how her husband was the most honorable man in the city. The retaliation was swift. The next morning, when I tried to scan my badge at the hospital entrance, the turnstile let out a sharp, grating beep. Access Denied. A security guard approached me, looking apologetic. “Dr. Brooks, the administration has terminated your employment effective immediately. You are no longer permitted on the premises.” I stared at the red light on the scanner for a second, then turned on my heel. When I got back to my small apartment and opened my phone, the internet was already ablaze with new details. They had dug up my mother’s medical history. Audrey Brooks’ mother, Margaret Brooks, was diagnosed with severe schizophrenia thirty years ago. How can we trust a psychiatrist whose own mother is mentally unstable? Is madness hereditary? She should be evaluated herself before she hurts her patients. Worse still, someone had leaked my home address. A small crowd of people with cameras was already gathered outside my building. One man shouted at my window, “Crazy Margaret! Your daughter is a criminal! Come out!” I pushed through the crowd, slipped inside, and immediately drew the heavy curtains shut. My brother, Toby, was holding our mother’s hand, his face pale. “Audrey, what do we do?” My mother was curled into a tight ball in the corner, her hands over her ears, shaking violently. The shouting from the street and the word “crazy” had dragged her straight back to that sterile, white room from thirty years ago. “I’m not sick… please… I’m sorry… don’t send me back… don’t give me the shots…” My heart felt as if it were being squeezed by a cold hand. “Mom,” I knelt before her, gently taking her trembling hands in mine. “You are not sick, and you did nothing wrong. I promise you, I am going to make him pay.” My mother looked at me, a rare spark of clarity returning to her hollow eyes. She reached out and touched my cheek with a shaking hand. “Audrey… I trust you.” I opened my desk drawer and pulled out my notebook, my mother’s original marriage certificate, and the audio recording device. On the television, Tyler was giving another high-profile interview. He sat before the cameras, flashing a smug grin as he held up a stamped document. “The previous evaluation was deeply flawed. I have received a proper diagnosis from an accredited private clinic proving I suffer from intermittent cognitive impairment. I will be cleared of all charges shortly. Thank you all for your support.” I dialed a number on my phone. “I’m ready. Come pick me up.” An hour later, I arrived at the broadcasting studio in a police cruiser. Tyler had just finished his interview and was walking out of the lobby, surrounded by his assistants and bodyguards. When he saw me, he smirked. “Told you so, Dr. Brooks. You couldn’t stop me even if you tried…” But his smirk died the second he saw the badges flashing behind me.

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