1 On our third anniversary, my amnesiac husband suddenly looked at me with red eyes, claiming he’d crossed over from age eighteen. “I’m sorry, babe. How could that bastard betray you? I’m eighteen now. I only love you.” He sobbed, repenting as he blocked his mistress on WhatsApp. I stared, stunned by his smooth performance. For the past year, this version of him had trampled my heart for that woman. Now, he spent every day clumsily trying to please me like a boy in first love. I thought a miracle had come. Until I overheard him on the phone, his tone careless and cruel. “Aly, don’t be mad. Wasn’t the bet to see if she could tell I was faking? Once she’s moved and forgives me, I’ll tell her the truth. I promise I’ll shred her heart for you, okay?” I stopped walking, my heart chilling. There had never been a lover crossing time. He was still twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell. But he didn’t know. I had truly crossed over from eighteen. And the affection that version of me held for him was nowhere near enough to let him humiliate me like this. I stood frozen, my mind in chaos. My memories still stopped before I got together with Adrian. At that time, he had already chased me for an entire year. He delivered breakfast for a hundred days. He stood under my dorm building on countless rainy nights. Only then had I slowly opened my heart. The next moment, I woke up seven years in the future. On the other end of the phone, Aly Shaw was still laughing. “Adrian, you’re so bad.” Adrian’s voice was lazy, full of unconcealed malice. “If I don’t crush her pride completely, how will she learn? All right, I’ll go coax her some more. Sleep early.” He hung up and turned to open the balcony door. When he saw me standing outside, the tenderness on his face instantly switched to panic. With red eyes, he strode over and pulled me hard into his arms. “Babe, I was wrong. I really know I was wrong.” “My head is full of memories from when we were eighteen. I only remember how much I loved you. How could I hurt you for another woman?” If this had been twenty minutes ago, twenty-five-year-old Skye Harper might have cried her heart out and forgiven all the awful things he had done over the past year. But I was eighteen. Three days ago, I had only barely agreed to Adrian’s pursuit. My mind flashed through what he had done this past year. When Skye was sick, he let Aly pour all her medicine into the toilet, saying Skye was faking illness to compete for attention. He threw the cheap silver ring I bought him into the trash, then spent millions buying Aly a three-pound set of gold jewelry. He said, “Aly saved my life. Of course I should treat her like a princess.” On Skye’s birthday, he brought Aly into our marital bed. In that daze, I seemed to feel the pain Skye had felt then. I trembled with anger and shoved him away. Adrian froze for a second, then immediately came close again, tears falling in large drops. “Babe, hit me, curse me, anything. Just don’t ignore me. From now on, I’ll only revolve around you, okay?” I raised my hand and slapped him hard across the face. The sound was crisp. Adrian’s face turned from the force, and five red marks appeared instantly on his pale skin. A flash of fury passed through his eyes. Then he forced it down, turned back, and looked at me with wounded devotion. “Babe, does your hand hurt? If you’re not satisfied, hit this side too.” He grabbed my hand and brought it toward his face. I pulled my hand back and went to the bathroom to wash it. “Adrian Caldwell, stop acting. It’s disgusting.” His body stiffened. His eyes flickered. “Babe, what am I acting about? I really only remember being eighteen…” Before I could speak, the doorbell suddenly rang. Adrian’s expression shifted. He strode over and opened the door. Aly stood outside holding a thermal container, eyes red, looking fragile and pitiful. “Adrian, I made your favorite fish soup.” Adrian suddenly raised his voice and snapped, “What are you doing here? Get out! My wife is home. If you don’t care about shame, I do.” He knocked the container over. Soup splashed onto Aly’s calf. Aly screamed, tears falling rapidly. “It’s okay if you don’t want me anymore. I won’t give up on you…” She cried and ran into the elevator. Adrian slammed the door shut, then turned back with a humble expression, waiting for praise. “Babe, see? I didn’t care about her at all.” I stared at his right hand. When he had knocked over the container just now, his index and middle fingers had crossed discreetly. That was his secret signal with Aly. When twenty-four-year-old Skye discovered that signal, she had confronted him without hesitation, and in return, he threw her out of the car in pouring rain. But eighteen-year-old me only found the signal ridiculous. The moment the door closed, I saw pain flash across Adrian’s face. I ignored him, walked into the guest room, and locked the door. No matter how hard he pounded on it outside. 2 I lay on the bed as seven years of love and hate forced themselves through my mind like a cruel film reel. In the beginning, for those first two years, he had treated me so well it was almost reckless. That was how he made me fall completely. For the first three years after marriage, Adrian still loved me. Wherever we went, he held my hand, afraid I would suffer even the slightest grievance. Everyone in our circle knew that Adrian Caldwell’s bottom line was me. Until the fourth year of our marriage. A car accident destroyed everything. At the edge of life and death, we both tried desperately to protect each other. Adrian jerked the steering wheel, wanting to leave the chance of survival to me. I also unbuckled my seat belt without hesitation and threw myself over him, blocking the shattered windshield with my body. Blood covered my eyes. Before I fell into total darkness, I saw a woman in a white dress running toward the car through the window. That was Aly. Later, I was in the ICU, fighting for my life. Adrian woke up first. When he opened his eyes, the first person he saw was Aly, crying beside his bed. That accident took away his memory. He remembered everything except that he had a wife named Skye Harper. Aly selfishly hid my existence and never mentioned the fact that he was married. With her day-and-night companionship and intimate care, the amnesiac Adrian gradually fell in love with her. Until the day he was discharged. He was full of joy, wanting to be with Aly, only to learn from his assistant that he was already married. Twenty-five-year-old Skye loved Adrian to the bone. She had even almost lost half her life saving him in that crash. What she received in return was his coldness after losing his memory, his violence, and his endless favoritism toward another woman. I slowly fell asleep, my mind going blank. The next morning, I opened the door. Adrian was wearing an apron, carrying fried eggs out of the kitchen. “Babe, I made your favorite runny eggs.” Twenty-five-year-old Skye had forced herself to eat half-raw eggs for a year to match his taste. But eighteen-year-old me was allergic to raw egg. I pulled out a chair, sat down, and pushed the plate into the trash. “I don’t eat undercooked food.” Adrian’s smile nearly slipped. “Isn’t this your favorite?” “My taste changed.” I got up, grabbed my coat, and walked out. He caught my wrist in a hard grip, strong enough to leave a red mark. “Skye, I’ve already humbled myself this much. How long are you going to keep making trouble?” The forcefulness of a twenty-five-year-old man in power showed itself instantly. I looked at him coldly. “Aren’t you eighteen? The eighteen-year-old Adrian never dared raise his voice at me.” His breath hitched. He immediately released me and softened his tone. “I’m sorry, babe. I’m just too scared of losing you. Let me take you out to relax, okay? We can visit our high school.” Without waiting for my answer, he pulled me into the car. The car stopped at the gates of City First High. Adrian held my hand and walked inside, talking nonstop about “our” high school memories. “Do you remember when we secretly flew a kite on the field and got caught by the dean?” I cut him off. “That was you and your first love. I went to Third High.” Adrian froze. He did not remember the details of being eighteen at all. He was relying entirely on the fake memories Aly had fed him, acting deeply in love with me. He awkwardly changed the subject. “Babe, I’ll buy you milk tea. You used to love the taro boba across the street.” He ran over and came back with a matcha frappé with double pearls. That was Aly’s taste. He even casually accepted a tissue from a girl nearby and wiped the sweat from his forehead. That girl was Aly, waiting there on purpose. The two of them exchanged a knowing look. I took out my phone and called a lawyer. “Draft me a divorce agreement. As fast as possible.” Adrian returned and handed me the drink. I smashed it at his feet. Green liquid splashed over his expensive leather shoes. “Adrian Caldwell, we’re getting divorced.” He finally tore off his smile and gritted his teeth. “Skye Harper, you were willing to risk your life for me. Who are you trying to scare with divorce now?” I looked at him. “Done pretending?” 3 He froze instantly, just about to explain. The next second, Aly’s sweet voice sounded behind him. “Adrian, you lost the bet. She figured out you were faking.” “A bet is a bet. Except for that kind of thing, you have to follow all my plans today. Bring her to tonight’s party.” Aly’s voice was not loud, but I heard every word. Adrian glanced at me, the corner of his mouth curving. “Fine. I’ll listen to you.” I turned and walked away, refusing without hesitation. “I’m not going.” But he dragged me into the car, floored the gas, and brought me straight back to the villa. He pulled me into the walk-in closet and threw out a pink floral dress. “Put it on. You’re coming with me tonight.” It was Aly’s favorite style. It was also what Adrian now liked. Twenty-five-year-old Skye had bought a closet full of clothes like this to please him. I picked up the dress and tore it in half in front of him. “Get out.” Adrian’s eyes turned red. He pulled off his tie and locked me inside the closet. “You’ll wear it whether you want to or not. When you soften up, I’ll let you out.” The closed room had no windows. But the one with claustrophobia was the current Skye, not eighteen-year-old Skye. I sat on the floor and stared coldly at the sliver of light beneath the door. At eighteen, what I had most was backbone. Six hours later, the door opened. Adrian stood there coldly, holding a couture gown. He thought I would be like twenty-five-year-old Skye, crying and begging while clinging to his leg. But I stood, dusted off my pants, and walked past him straight to the bathroom. His gaze darkened. He forcibly pulled me back and shoved the gown into my arms. “Change. I’ll agree to one request from you.” The banquet hall was full of lights and wine. Adrian forced me to enter on his arm. Everyone in the circle knew how he had degraded his wife for Aly. Countless gazes landed on me, waiting to watch a show. Aly walked over with a wine glass. Her dress and mine were from the same collection, as if we were twins. “Adrian. Mrs. Caldwell,” she called sweetly. The rich kids around us began teasing. “Mr. Caldwell, even after losing your memory, your taste still leans toward our Aly, huh?” Adrian did not refute them. A cruel smile curved his lips. He turned to me. “Babe, everyone’s playing a game. Shooting. If you lose, you’ll toast Aly and apologize for making trouble this afternoon.” On the table lay a modified air gun and several apples. Adrian had deliberately set up this game to humiliate me and force me to lower my head to his mistress in front of everyone. I stepped forward and picked up the air gun, weighing it in my hand. “What if I win?” Adrian lifted an eyebrow. “Then do whatever you want.” He fired first. The apple ten meters away was struck at the edge and fell to the ground. Pleased, he handed the gun to me. I did not take it. I picked up the spare gun on the table, loaded it, aimed, and pulled the trigger. All in one motion. Bull’s-eye. The apple shattered. The entire room fell silent. At eighteen, I had been a professional shooter on the provincial team. For Adrian, the later me gave up my career and never touched a gun again. I turned, picked up an entire bottle of high-proof vodka, and walked to Aly. “Drink it.” Aly’s face went pale as she looked to Adrian for help. “Adrian…” Adrian’s face darkened. He strode over and knocked the bottle from my hand. “Skye Harper, enough!” He shielded Aly behind him. I looked at him. “A bet is a bet.” “She won’t drink, right?” 4 I stepped forward and slapped Aly across the face with all my strength. Aly screamed and fell to the floor, the corner of her mouth swelling instantly. “This slap replaces the drink. We’re even.” Adrian shoved me hard. I crashed into the long table behind me, pain shooting through my waist. He crouched down and pulled Aly into his arms, then turned and glared at me. “Take her away. Lock her in the basement!” he ordered the bodyguards. Two bodyguards stepped forward and twisted my arms. “You can reflect in there. Without my permission, no one is allowed to give her food or water.” The basement was cold and damp. Using the weak light from my phone, I found a metal stool in the corner. I lifted it and smashed it hard against the high ventilation window. Glass shattered. The wire mesh bent. My hands were cut by glass, blood flowing freely. I stepped on a cabinet and climbed out through the vent. The night wind was freezing. Without looking back, I walked into the dark. At dawn, I returned quietly to the villa with bandages wrapped around my hands. Adrian was not home. I pulled my suitcase out from under the bed and began packing. When I finished, I sat on the edge of the bed and took out my phone. There were hundreds of unread messages, all sent by twenty-five-year-old Skye to Adrian. Humble, pleading, despairing. Adrian, can you come home for dinner today? I made your favorite sweet and sour ribs. Adrian, my stomach hurts. Can you pick me up? Adrian, Aly posted that you two are in the Maldives. Didn’t you say you were on a business trip? I deleted them one by one. Piece by piece, I picked up the dignity she had lost. Passing through the living room, I threw the signed divorce agreement and my wedding ring onto the coffee table. There was also a thick diary on the table. It was where twenty-five-year-old Skye had recorded every detail of the past seven years. I opened to the last page and wrote one line in the wild cursive only eighteen-year-old me would use. Then I pulled my suitcase out and took a cab straight to the airport. At eleven that morning, Adrian pushed open the villa door. In his hand was a box of steamed buns from the south side of the city, something I had “once” loved. He had come to bestow his mercy. “Skye Harper, do you know what you did wrong?” Only silence answered him. He frowned and went to the basement. The lock was intact. But no one was inside. A strange panic rose in his chest. He rushed upstairs to the bedroom. The room was clean, without the slightest trace of a person living there. At once, he saw the divorce agreement and wedding ring on the coffee table. Adrian laughed coldly and took out his phone to call me. “Sorry, the number you dialed has been deactivated.” He froze. His gaze slowly moved to the diary on the coffee table. He opened to the last page. The handwriting was arrogant and bold, nothing like twenty-five-year-old Skye’s restrained, delicate writing. June 2, 2026. I truly crossed over from eighteen. Twenty-five-year-old Adrian Caldwell is complete trash. Thankfully, eighteen-year-old me doesn’t love you at all. Impossible. This had to be Skye’s trick to force him to admit his mistakes. He flipped through the diary and found entries from when I was eighteen. The handwriting was exactly the same. Eighteen. She really was from eighteen. The diary dropped heavily to the floor. Adrian’s mind seemed to be struck by a hammer. Everything went blank. Then the memories he had forgotten suddenly exploded from the depths of his mind.

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1 On our third wedding anniversary, my husband missed our three-year-old son’s retinal surgery because he was accompanying the woman he never got over to a minor follow-up appointment. That day, while packing Theo’s schoolbag, I pressed the button on his recording teddy bear and heard his tiny whisper. “Teddy, I don’t have a daddy anymore. Can you be my daddy?” At a community follow-up visit, the doctor casually asked where the child’s father was. Theo touched the gauze over his eye and said softly, “Doctor, my daddy turned into an angel and flew far away. That place is called Aunt Tessa’s house.” At kindergarten, during a speech event themed “My Family,” Theo stood onstage holding a photo of only the two of us. “My teacher said only dead people can’t take family photos. So my daddy became a star in the sky.” The parents below were all moved to tears. I sat in the corner and did not cry once. Three months later, Tessa left for overseas training. My husband came home exhausted, wanting to hug his own son. The moment Bennett Banks stepped through the door, he saw Theo building a tiny tower out of blocks. Theo looked up at him with complete unfamiliarity in his eyes. “Sir, please don’t step on my daddy’s grave.” “Elise Warren, is this how you teach our child?” Bennett stood in the entryway, his suit jacket draped over one arm. He had just returned from an out-of-town medical conference, still wearing that gentle fatigue from the hospital’s promotional photos. Bennett was the youngest associate director at the city eye hospital. Patient with his patients. Gentle with children. The nurses all said Dr. Banks had steady hands and an even steadier temper. Even when a child cried during an eye exam, he would crouch down and coax them again and again. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” “It’ll be over soon.” But now, looking at the block grave his own son had built, his eyes held only anger. The little tower on the rug was crooked. At the top sat a yellow star-shaped block. Theo crouched beside it, both small hands protecting the star. His right eye was covered with a post-surgery protective patch. His left eye looked wetly at Bennett. Not afraid. Strange. Bennett stepped closer. “Theo, Daddy’s home.” Theo immediately shrank behind me. “Sir, don’t step on it.” Bennett’s face changed. “What sir?” “I’m your father.” Theo lowered his head and carefully straightened the tilted star. “Daddy is inside.” Bennett’s breathing grew heavy. He turned to me. “He’s only three. How does he know what a grave is? Elise, don’t you think teaching him this is cruel?” I stood still. “I didn’t teach him.” “Then who did?” I looked at him. My voice was flat. “You.” Bennett’s brow twitched hard. “Me?” I walked to the TV cabinet and picked up the recording teddy bear. I pressed play. Theo’s soft little voice came out. “Teddy, Daddy didn’t come again today.” “The doctor said surgery kids have to be brave.” “But I’m not brave.” “Can you be my daddy?” The living room fell silent. Bennett’s face turned faintly pale. Three months ago, Theo had retinal repair surgery. The day before the operation, Bennett had promised him personally: “Daddy will be there.” That morning, Theo sat outside the operating room holding his teddy bear, staring at the elevator. Every time the doors opened, he looked up. “Mommy, is it Daddy?” But Bennett never came. Ten minutes before Theo was wheeled in, Bennett sent me a message. Tessa has her minor follow-up today. She’s scared of hospitals. I’ll stay with her for a bit. Theo has you. He won’t miss me for this short while. That “short while” lasted twelve full hours. When Theo woke from anesthesia, his eyes wrapped in gauze, his first word was not about pain. He touched his eyes and asked me, “Mommy, can Daddy not see me anymore?” Bennett took the teddy bear from my hand and turned it off. His throat moved. “Elise, I didn’t mean to miss it.” “Tessa had just finished her procedure. She really couldn’t manage alone.” “I had already spoken with Theo’s surgeon beforehand. Nothing was going to go wrong.” I laughed once. “So in your mind, not showing up still counts as being there?” Bennett’s face darkened. “Don’t be sarcastic.” Then he crouched in front of Theo and took a box from his suitcase. “Theo, Daddy brought you a gift.” “You used to love stars, didn’t you?” Inside was an imported starry-sky projector. He pressed the switch gently. Blue and purple lights instantly spun across the walls. Before, Theo would have clapped and shouted that it was pretty. Now, Theo covered his right eye and stumbled backward. I shut it off at once. “Bennett Banks!” He froze. “What?” I looked at him. “For six months after surgery, he can’t look at strong flashing lights.” Bennett’s hand stopped in midair. He was an ophthalmologist. Yet he did not know his own son’s post-surgery restrictions. Theo whispered, “Mommy, stars hurt my eye.” Bennett’s face shifted between blue and white. He wanted to explain, but his phone rang. Two words flashed on the screen. Tessa Lane. His expression softened almost instinctively. “What’s wrong?” On the other end, Tessa’s voice sounded tearful. “Bennett, I can’t find my visa materials.” “My mentor said I have to submit the eye evaluation report tomorrow. I really can’t handle it by myself.” “Can you come over?” Bennett held the phone and glanced at Theo. Theo looked back at him too. Very quietly. After two seconds of silence, Bennett stood. “Elise, Tessa’s overseas documents are urgent.” “I’ll help her finish them and come back.” I did not stop him. Theo did not cry either. After the door closed, Theo walked to the trash can and put the star projector inside. Then he hugged the teddy bear and recorded another message. “Teddy, the stars Daddy gave me hurt.” “I don’t want stars anymore.” I held him. His tiny body leaned against me, so light it felt like a sheet of paper that might tear at any moment. After Theo fell asleep, I opened the drawer in the study. Inside was the referral notice from Southport Children’s Eye Center. And a fully organized divorce lawsuit file. I circled a date on the calendar with a red pen. Fifteen days from now. The final check-in day for the Southport expert consultation. I had trusted Bennett too many times. This time, I would not let Theo’s light die inside Bennett’s so-called “next time.” Ten days before the countdown ended, I had just finished a night shift when I received a call from Southport Children’s Eye Center. The other party was polite, but the words made my whole body go cold. “Ms. Warren, Theo’s expert consultation appointment has been canceled.” I thought I had misheard. “Who canceled it?” “The system shows that the child’s father, Dr. Bennett Banks, used internal hospital collaboration privileges to make the change.” I stood in the hospital hallway. The coffee in my hand fell to the floor. Brown liquid splashed over my shoes. The voice continued. “Also, the rehabilitation bed originally reserved has been released.” “If you rebook, the earliest opening is two months from now.” Two months. The doctor had said the three months after Theo’s surgery were the golden period for visual training. If missed, much of his functional recovery could be severely affected. I hung up and rushed home. Bennett was in the study. On the desk lay Theo’s medical records, rehabilitation assessment forms, and an international training guarantee file. Wearing gold-rimmed glasses, Bennett was organizing Tessa’s English documents. That focused expression was one I had seen many times. In hospital promotional videos. At academic conferences. And every time Tessa weakly called his name. But never when it came to Theo. I pulled the medical records away. “You canceled Theo’s specialist appointment?” Bennett looked up, frowning. “Why are you always so aggressive?” “Did you cancel it or not?” He removed his glasses and rubbed his brow. “Tessa needs a pre-departure eye evaluation tomorrow. That Southport expert can issue an internationally recognized report.” “Theo’s condition is already stable. We can rebook later.” I stared at him. “Bennett Banks, you are an eye doctor.” “You know better than anyone that he can’t wait.” Bennett looked impatient. “Elise, of course I know.” “But Theo isn’t an emergency. Tessa only has this one chance to train abroad.” I smiled. “So you gave her our son’s rehabilitation bed?” “It’s not giving.” He sounded perfectly justified. “It’s a temporary resource adjustment.” “Stop making everything sound so ugly.” I lowered my eyes and saw a bank statement on the desk. Two hundred thousand. Transferred from our joint account. Note: Tessa Lane overseas deposit. That money was the second-stage rehabilitation fee I had prepared for Theo. I picked up the statement. “Is this also a temporary resource adjustment?” Bennett paused. Then he quickly recovered his calm. “Tessa is going abroad alone. She needs money for emergencies.” “I’ll make up Theo’s treatment fee later.” The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh. “Later?” “Bennett, how many laters do you have left for Theo?” His face sank. “Elise, stop using the child to morally blackmail me.” “Tessa has had a hard life. Her parents don’t care about her. She’s carried herself this far alone.” “You have a job, a home, and a child. What does she have?” I looked at him. “She has you.” The study went silent for two seconds. Bennett looked away. “I’m only helping her.” I took out my phone and started recording. “Then say it to the camera.” “Say that you personally canceled Theo’s expert appointment.” “And that you transferred Theo’s rehabilitation money to Tessa Lane.” Bennett’s expression changed. “Elise, are you insane?” He reached for my phone. I stepped back. “Aren’t you innocent?” “What are you afraid of?” For the first time, anger appeared in his eyes. “You’re becoming more and more unreasonable.” “Theo is only three, and you’ve made him talk about dead fathers and star graves all day.” “You think that’s loving him?” I slapped him. The sound was sharp. Bennett’s face turned from the force. Slowly, he looked back at me, his eyes frighteningly dark. “Elise.” I gripped my phone tightly. “That slap is for Theo, who waited for you outside the operating room.” A small sound came from the doorway. I turned. Theo stood there holding his teddy bear. He had heard everything. He could not see far, so he touched the wall and walked toward us step by step. “Mommy.” I crouched and held him. Theo stretched out his little hand and touched my face. “Mommy, don’t cry.” I had not cried. But he thought I had. That night, Theo sat on his bed and pressed the record button. “Teddy, Daddy gave my doctor to Aunt Tessa.” “Does that mean I won’t have to see anymore?” I stood at the door, nails digging into my palm. My phone lit up. Tessa had posted on social media. In the photo, Bennett stood beside her, putting documents into a folder. Her caption read: Thank you to the person who always puts me first. Bennett liked the post. I stared at that line. Then I called my lawyer. “Add marital asset transfer, unauthorized cancellation of a minor patient’s consultation, and abuse of medical privileges.” The lawyer was silent for a moment. “Dr. Warren, are you sure you want to go this far?” I looked toward the bedroom, where Theo slept holding his teddy bear. “I’m sure.” “I want him to lose the right to sign even one page of Theo’s medical records.” Three days before we left, the kindergarten held a parent-child class about eye protection. The teacher called me ahead of time. “Theo’s mom, Theo hasn’t been speaking much lately.” “He keeps saying his dad is in the sky.” “If his father is available, it would be best for him to come once.” Bennett agreed. He said he had no surgeries that day and would definitely come. When Theo heard, he sat at the door and waited. He wore a little white shirt with a name tag pinned to his chest. His right eye had the light-blocking protective goggles the doctor required. He touched the goggles and asked me, “Mommy, will Daddy not like this?” I said, “No.” But I did not know either. Before the class began, the classroom door opened. Bennett came. He wore a light gray shirt with his sleeves rolled to his forearms. The moment he entered, some parents recognized him. “Dr. Banks?” “My child’s eyes were examined by you last time.” Bennett nodded gently. “How is the recovery?” The parent smiled at once. “Much better. You were so patient.” That was how he was. Professional, gentle, reliable in everyone’s eyes. The next second, Tessa Lane walked in holding a little boy’s hand. The boy’s name was Toby, Tessa’s sister’s son. Tessa wore a white dress with delicate shimmer makeup under her eyes. When she saw me, she looked apologetic. “Elise, sorry.” “Toby has been saying his eyes feel uncomfortable lately, so I asked Bennett to bring him here to listen.” The teacher froze. “But today is a parent-child activity for this class.” Tessa immediately lowered her head. “Then forget it.” “Toby’s father is away all year. He’s just too envious of other children having dads with them.” Toby looked up at Bennett. “Daddy Bennett, can I sit beside you?” Daddy Bennett. Many parents in the classroom looked over. Bennett did not correct him. He only patted Toby’s head. “Sit.” Theo stood beside me, his small hand slowly tightening around the corner of his shirt. The teacher began teaching eye protection. During the activity, parents were asked to help children with a covered-eye picture identification game. When it was Theo’s turn, he took his card and went onstage. Bennett had just stood when Toby suddenly pointed at Theo’s goggles and shouted: “Why is he wearing that?” “He looks like a little monster.” The classroom went silent. Theo lowered his head, his small hand touching the goggles. I was about to speak when Bennett did first. His voice was not loud, but every word was clear. “Toby, you can’t say that.” I had just breathed in relief. Then he turned to Theo. “But Theo, this is only a kindergarten activity.” “Take the goggles off for now.” I froze. “Bennett?” He frowned. “The classroom lights aren’t strong. There’s no need to make him look special.” “Don’t make other children think you’re seriously ill.” Theo’s hand stopped on the goggles. The teacher also looked awkward. “Mr. Banks, Theo’s mother said he needs to avoid light after surgery…” Bennett said calmly, “I’m an ophthalmologist.” One sentence silenced everyone. All the parents assumed he was right. Theo looked toward me. He could not see my face clearly and only asked softly, “Mommy, should I take them off?” Before I could answer, Bennett had stepped forward. He crouched in front of Theo. The same crouching posture. The same gentle pose. But the words he said hurt worse than a slap. “Theo, be brave. Boys shouldn’t always make everyone revolve around them.” Theo slowly took off his goggles. The white ceiling lights fell into his eyes. He squinted, and the corner of his eye instantly reddened. I snatched the goggles back and put them on him. “Bennett Banks, are you out of your mind?” Bennett’s face turned ugly. “Elise, don’t make a scene in front of the child.” Toby leaned into Tessa’s arms and whispered, “Daddy Bennett, she’s scary.” Tessa patted Toby’s back. “It’s okay. Daddy Bennett is here.” Theo heard it. He put the picture card back on the table. Then he took off the name tag on his chest and tucked it into my bag. “Mommy, I don’t want to play.” After we returned home, Theo did not eat dinner. He only hugged the teddy bear and recorded one sentence. “Teddy, Daddy said I’m not serious.” “Then if it hurts later, I won’t say it.” I sat outside the door. At that moment, I finally understood. The worst way Bennett hurt Theo was not by being absent. It was that he clearly saw the child in pain. Yet he still made the child prove in front of everyone that he did not hurt. That night, I received a message from the Southport doctor. If a post-surgery child develops eye pain, light sensitivity, or tearing, emergency treatment is required. If elevated eye pressure continues, it may cause irreversible optic nerve damage. I saved the message into my evidence folder. Then I changed our train tickets to before dawn the day after tomorrow. The day before we were supposed to leave, Theo woke up looking very pale. He sat on the edge of the bed with both hands covering his right eye. “Mommy, my eye feels swollen.” His voice was very small. I immediately picked him up and rushed to Bennett’s hospital. There were many people in the emergency ophthalmology department. After the nurse saw the initial test data, her expression changed. “His eye pressure is very high.” “How long after surgery?” “Three months.” The nurse stood at once. “Dr. Banks is in the hospital today. I’ll get him.” I held Theo in the hallway. He leaned against me, forehead covered in cold sweat. “Mommy, will Daddy come?” I stroked his head. “The doctor will come.” I did not dare say Daddy. A few minutes later, Bennett came out of an exam room. He saw us immediately. “Why are you here?” I handed him the test sheet. “Theo’s eye pressure is abnormal. The nurse said it needs immediate treatment.” Bennett took the paper. His expression clearly changed when he saw the numbers. He understood. Of course he understood. But just then, the door of the room beside him opened. Tessa walked out. She wore sunglasses and held an English report that needed a stamp. “Bennett, my eyes feel so sore after dilation.” “The doctor said my periorbital repair records need a professional evaluation, or the foreign side won’t accept them.” I looked at her. “Periorbital repair?” Tessa’s face changed slightly. Bennett avoided my gaze. I finally understood. The so-called minor follow-up was not for an illness. It was cosmetic eye-area repair before she left the country. I held Theo tighter. “Bennett, Theo can’t wait.” Bennett was silent for two seconds. “Elise, take him into the waiting room first.” “I’ll stamp Tessa’s report and handle him right away.” I could not believe it. “You know what those eye pressure numbers mean.” Bennett lowered his voice. “I know.” “Then you’re still making him wait?” He glanced at the people around us, impatience entering his tone. “This is a hospital, not a place for you to throw a fit.” “If Tessa doesn’t get this report today, she can’t fly tomorrow.” “I’ll arrange Theo’s care. It’s not like he’ll go blind immediately.” Theo trembled in my arms. He heard it. He understood the word blind. Tessa gently tugged Bennett’s sleeve. “Bennett, maybe you should see Theo first.” Her voice was soft, but her eyes landed on me. In that instant, the corner of her mouth curved almost invisibly. As expected, Bennett felt even sorrier for her. “Don’t worry about it.” “You go in first.” When he helped Tessa into the exam room, his voice softened. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.” The same three words. On Theo’s surgery day, he had never said them to his son. I picked Theo up and rushed straight to the emergency nurse station. “Change doctors.” “Now.” The nurse quickly contacted the attending physician on duty. Halfway through the exam, Theo suddenly screamed. Then his whole body went rigid. His little hands clutched his eye tightly. His mouth opened, but no sound came out. “Theo?” I patted his face. “Theo, talk to Mommy!” He looked at me. Or rather, he tried hard to look at me. But his pupil would not focus.

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I caught the intern trying to sneak a kiss from my husband of convenience. She dropped to her knees in a frantic scramble, tears welling in her innocent eyes. “Mrs. Wyatt, please, please let me go.” In my previous life, I had thrown a massive, hysterical fit and divorced Gideon out of pure spite. As a result, I lost the Wyatt family’s protection, ended up entirely alone, and died a miserable death on the rain-slicked pavement while delivering takeout. Given a second chance at life, I simply stood there. Gideon cast a careless, lazy glance my way. “What, the great heiress wants to divorce me over this?” I didn’t answer. Instead, I reached out and gently took the trembling girl’s hands. “Sweetheart, I’ll be counting on you to help me take good care of him from now on.” “As long as he is happy, I am fine with anything.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw all the color instantly drain from my husband’s face. 1 “What did you just say?” Gideon turned his head to look at me. His face was a blank mask, but his tone dripped with raw disbelief. I could not be bothered to answer him. Releasing Linda’s hands, I turned on my heel, fully intending to walk away. But before I could take a step, his fingers locked around my wrist from behind. “Repeat what you just said.” Before I could even open my mouth, he pressed his lips together and offered an unprompted explanation. “Linda and I are strictly boss and subordinate.” “I got a stain on my tie. She was helping me change it, lost her balance in her heels, and just…” “I know. I believe you.” I cut him off smoothly. Gideon choked on his words, staring at me in heavy, loaded silence. The atmosphere grew suffocatingly tense until Linda suddenly broke it with a pathetic sob. “Mrs. Wyatt, I know you are still angry with me.” “You can yell at me or hit me all you want, but please stop making things so difficult. I am just Mr. Wyatt’s secretary. I cannot afford to lose this job.” This was far from her first time provoking me. When I accompanied Gideon to the annual corporate gala, she had intentionally ordered my custom evening gown in her own measurements instead of mine. Little heart shaped stickers had mysteriously appeared on Gideon’s favorite fountain pen. And whenever a project manager mistakenly referred to her as Mrs. Wyatt, she would just blush fiercely, offering a shy smile without ever confirming or denying it. I used to fight with Gideon constantly over these things. But every single time, he would just furrow his brows, looking at me with exhausted disdain. “Why are you being so petty with a young girl fresh out of college?” The memory washed over me, leaving me utterly numb. I looked at Linda with a calm, unreadable expression. “Why would I make things difficult for you?” “You did not do it on purpose. I completely understand.” Linda froze, her fake tears drying up in sheer confusion. Beside us, Gideon crossed his arms over his chest and suddenly let out a low, dark laugh. He shook his head, one brow arching in amusement. “This is getting boring.” I frowned at him. “What is?” “Playing hard to get. It is incredibly boring.” He scoffed, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. “For a second there, I almost thought you actually didn’t care.” 2 In my past life, I cared entirely too much. We were a marriage of corporate convenience, but we had also been childhood sweethearts. He was the golden boy woven through the entirety of my youth. It was precisely because I loved him so deeply that I could not stomach Linda’s little manipulative games. The first time I really noticed her was when I brought Gideon his stomach medication. He had chronic gastritis. When work piled up, he would routinely skip meals. When Linda pushed the office door open that day, Gideon was holding me tightly, resting his chin on my shoulder like an overgrown child, whining about his stomach ache and demanding that I comfort him. Linda stood frozen in the doorway. The rims of her pretty eyes turned a quiet, devastated red. Later that week, I found a handful of dried shrimp hidden in my catered lunch. I am severely allergic to seafood. The executive chef knew this and would never make such a fatal error. Someone had planted it there with malicious intent. The security cameras had a blind spot right over the pantry, but the footage clearly showed Linda lingering around my lunchbox. Knowing she came from a struggling household and desperately needed money for her mother’s upcoming surgery, I chose not to make a public scene. Instead, I slid a premium bank card across the table to her. I told her to consider it a loan for the medical bills to solve her immediate crisis. “Resign on your own terms and find another job.” But things did not go as planned. That night, Gideon came home enveloped in a glacial silence. Thinking the arrogant board of directors had given him a hard time again, I wrapped my arms and legs around him, murmuring soft comforts into his neck for a long time. That was until he pulled the very same bank card out of his pocket and tossed it onto the coffee table. His face was devoid of warmth. “Look at what you did.” He raised his eyes, fixing me with a stern, judgmental glare. “Linda is not like you. She clawed her way up from nothing to get here. Her life is incredibly hard.” “Even if you are insanely jealous, you do not use money to humiliate her.” I was stunned into silence. That was our very first real fight. Even when I showed him the security footage, he absolutely refused to believe Linda would try to harm me. He genuinely thought I was throwing a pampered heiress tantrum, going out of my way to bully a poor subordinate. As a punishment, he not only paid for her mother’s surgery out of his own pocket but also promoted her to his personal executive assistant. Spending day and night together in the executive suite, they grew increasingly intimate. There was a viral artisan ice cream shop I had been begging him to visit for months. He ended up taking Linda instead. When I confronted him, he brushed it off with a careless shrug. “The kid has a sweet tooth. I was just humoring her.” Linda’s birthday wish was to ride the city’s grand Ferris wheel at sunset with him. He agreed to that, too. They took countless photos together. Linda chose a candid shot of Gideon’s handsome side profile and set it as her social media background. There were times I called my husband, only for Linda’s sickly sweet voice to answer. “Mrs. Wyatt, the CEO is currently changing his clothes.” Her voice purred through the receiver, soft and victorious. “If you need anything, just tell me. I will be sure to pass the message along.” I hung up after seconds of suffocating silence. But minutes later, Gideon called back, his tone absolutely freezing. “What exactly did you say to Linda?” “Why is she sobbing her eyes out after taking your call?” “What will it take for you to believe that there is nothing going on between us? Does bullying a young girl make you feel powerful?” I listened to his accusations, drained of all energy. The fortress of trust I had built in my heart felt like it was drowning in a silent, violent tide. The wind whistled through the newly carved holes, and the pain was agonizing. And then came the day I caught Linda stealing that kiss. On our wedding anniversary, no less. Months of agonizing, unspoken grievances erupted like a volcano. Refusing to listen to any more empty excuses, I lost my mind entirely. I tore the place apart, screaming and crying. I became the crazy, hysterical woman in everyone’s eyes. Gideon watched my meltdown with a deep frown, his eyes chillingly detached. “Are you absolutely insisting on a divorce?” Eyes bloodshot, I gave a firm nod. He stood up slowly, a cruel sneer twisting his features. “I have spoiled you far too much.” “When the Vanderbilt family went bankrupt, I took on tens of millions of your parents’ toxic debts just to clean up their mess. Without me keeping the wolves at bay these past few years, your family would have been driven to suicide.” “If you insist on walking away, you will be blacklisted by Wyatt Corp. Not a single company in this country will dare to hire you.” 3 Throughout our years of marriage, that was the very first time Gideon wielded his wealth and status to crush me. His face was an emotionless mask, his logic ruthlessly clear. It was as if he were sitting at a high stakes negotiation table, threatening an enemy into submission. Perhaps the sight of my silent, broken weeping was too pathetic. His harsh demeanor softened. He calmly pulled me into his arms, pressing a gentle kiss to my wet, trembling eyelids. “Stop making a fuss. I was only trying to scare some sense into you.” “Linda and I have always been completely clean. I am not firing her, and you are going to stop making her life miserable.” “As long as you behave from now on and stop acting so paranoid, we can go back to how we used to be. Understood?” No. I did not understand. The version of me in that past life loved him too intensely. That obsessive love rotted into pure, venomous hatred. I demanded the divorce, fully intending to work my fingers to the bone to pay off those debts myself and sever all ties with him forever. I left every piece of designer jewelry and luxury clothing he had ever bought me inside the Wyatt mansion. I walked out with nothing. Driven to the absolute brink of poverty, I chose to hustle on a delivery bike rather than beg Gideon for a single dime. The final chapter of my story ended with me slipping and crashing my bike on a rain battered street. A speeding car ran over me in the next heartbeat, leaving my face a crushed, bloody ruin. Through the curtain of fine drizzle, a luxury Maybach rolled past. The tinted window lowered smoothly, revealing Gideon’s striking, deeply set eyes. He cast one indifferent, passing glance at my mangled body before looking away. He reached over to cover Linda’s eyes, his voice dripping with gentle protection. “Don’t look.” “It’s gruesome.” He dipped his head to comfort her, a soft smile on his lips, exactly as one would coax a frightened child. Some mistakes only need to be made once in a lifetime. If Gideon liked Linda that much, I had no reason to play the wicked witch trying to tear them apart. There was even less reason to force a bitter divorce, make an enemy out of a billionaire, and bring needless suffering upon myself. The next day, I ran into Linda at the corporate headquarters. I offered her a polite, breezy smile. “Linda, you will be accompanying Gideon on his business trip to Chicago again, right?” Her eyes darted nervously away. “Yes, I am…” I chuckled, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “His hotel suite number is 1081.” Linda’s eyes widened in sheer shock. “You…” If this were the old me, I would have been sick with anxiety at the thought of them traveling alone. Not only would I have demanded they stay in completely different hotels, but I would have required Gideon to check in with me every single hour. “Relax. I am not tagging along this time, and I am not checking up on him either.” I patted her stiff shoulder affectionately. “What I said yesterday stands forever.” “If Gideon truly has feelings for you, I couldn’t stop him even if I tried. I might as well step aside and give you both my blessing.” “Who knows, if he really falls madly in love with you and wants to make you his legal wife, he will have to pay me a massive divorce settlement.” I squeezed her cold hand, winking at her. “I have arranged everything with the hotel staff. Have a wonderful, unforgettable night.” I watched her scurry away, letting out a long, satisfying exhale before turning around. Only to crash straight into Gideon’s dark, indecipherable gaze. “What were you two whispering about?” “Just telling her to take good care of you while you are away.” Remembering something, I offered a helpful reminder. “Oh, and she is giving up her weekend to fly out with you. It is a lot of hard work, so do not forget to pay her double overtime.” The air in the hallway went dead silent the moment the words left my mouth. I stood there with my arms crossed, fully expecting him to praise me for finally being a rational, accommodating wife. Instead, he let out a cold, sharp breath that sounded suspiciously like a sneer. He leaned lazily against the doorframe and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a silver lighter. “Putting on this little show of getting along with Linda… was that entirely for my benefit?” I blinked, genuinely amused by his ego. I used to keep him on a suffocatingly tight leash. Especially after my family went bankrupt, the glaring power imbalance between us turned me into an insecure, neurotic mess. In the beginning, he actually tried his best to soothe my anxiety. “Why do you let your imagination run wild? Who else would want to deal with me besides you?” “Alright, alright. If it makes you feel secure, you have total clearance to inspect my phone and my schedule whenever you want.” But after Linda entered the picture, he gradually turned cold and defensive. “Am I not allowed any basic privacy?” “Can you not give me an ounce of goddamn trust?” Pulling myself out of the memories, I looked him dead in the eye with utter sincerity. “Didn’t you always beg me to give you some freedom? Well, I am finally giving it to you.” Gideon stared me down for a few agonizing seconds before scoffing under his breath. “This little trick of yours… it is honestly pathetic.” With that, he tossed his half smoked cigarette into the nearby receptacle and walked away without looking back. 4 By the third day of the Chicago trip, the aura surrounding Gideon was still dangerously dark. Ever since Serena had caught him in the dressing room that day, a suffocating tightness in his chest simply refused to dissipate. Part of it was irritation at himself. He had knocked back a few drinks at the gala, his reflexes had dulled, and he had failed to dodge Linda’s inappropriate closeness in time. But the vast majority of his frustration was directed entirely at Serena. She was entirely too calm. Those beautiful, historically expressive eyes of hers were now completely vacant, and it was causing a strange, crawling panic to settle in his gut. In the past, every single emotion she felt was vividly broadcasted in her eyes. She never hid a single thing from him. Like that one winter dawn when he had worked straight through the night and failed to come home. Sick with worry, she threw a coat over her pajamas and drove straight to the corporate tower to find him. The building happened to be suffering a localized power outage. She was terrified of the dark, yet she blindly fumbled her way through the pitch black executive floor for nearly twenty minutes. Even though her teeth were physically chattering in fear, she kept calling out his name. When he finally found her and scooped her up into his arms, she was so overwhelmed with relief that she buried her face in his neck, sobbing uncontrollably. Every time Gideon recalled that memory, his cold heart would involuntarily melt into a puddle. Yet now, Serena had not asked to check his phone in weeks. The last time he stayed out drinking all night and returned at dawn, she did not ask a single question. She seemed to have become perfectly obedient. Her attitude toward him was significantly better than before. But something about it felt incredibly, horribly wrong. It made his skin crawl. Gideon eventually chalked it all up to one of her dramatic little phases. She loved him entirely too much. This was definitely just a new, twisted strategy to capture his undivided attention. She had pulled similar stunts in the past. Once, she had literally kicked him out of their penthouse, blazing with fury. “Since you love taking private business trips with Linda so much, why don’t you just go live at her apartment? I am certainly not stopping you.” Gideon had simply squatted by the stairwell door with a cigarette hanging from his lips, not moving a single inch. He just snapped a photo of his packed suitcase and texted it to Linda, instructing her to post it on her social media feed. Ten minutes later, he was watching Serena push open the stairwell door. Her eyes were bloodshot, her face streaked with fresh tears. She looked absolutely ready to catch him in the act of cheating. He had burst out laughing, wrapping one arm around her waist and hauling her effortlessly back inside their home. Serena could never bear to actually leave him. Her recent icy treatment was nothing more than playing hard to get. The second he showed even a fraction of interest in Linda, Serena would instantly panic and come begging for his attention again. Satisfied with his own logic, the heavy knot between his brows finally smoothed out as he swiped his keycard and pushed open the door to his penthouse suite. He had not been intimate with Serena in days. Leaning against the marble wet bar, his throat felt suddenly dry. He casually poured himself a glass of whiskey. After downing half of it, a heavy, unfamiliar heat began pooling low in his stomach. He glanced at the crystal decanter, his brow arching in surprise. An aphrodisiac blend? Did the hotel concierge arrange this? Impossible. A faint sound of running water echoed from the master bathroom. A slow, wicked smile spread across Gideon’s face as he gently set the crystal glass down on the counter. It had to be Serena’s doing. She was the only one who knew his private suite number. Just as he predicted, she was terrified of losing him to another woman and had secretly flown all the way to Chicago to beg for his forgiveness in bed. She was still utterly addicted to him. The corners of his lips curved upward as he pushed open the frosted glass door of the bathroom. The next second, a slender figure wrapped only in a white towel threw herself straight into his chest. Her breathing was ragged, her body trembling with anticipation. His heart flared with heat. He dipped his head, pressing his lips into her damp hair, his voice dropping into a husky, reassuring murmur. “You are the only woman I will ever have.” “I have never looked twice at anyone else, and I never want to divorce you.” “Everything I said back there was just to make you jealous.” The woman in his arms continued to tremble, whispering back, “Mr. Wyatt…” The air in the bathroom instantly froze. It felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped directly over his head. Gideon stood paralyzed for three agonizing seconds before violently shoving her away. His voice cracked like a whip. “What the hell are you doing here?” “How did you get my room number?” She must have bribed someone or used her administrative access to find out. And that laced drink was not Serena’s romantic trap; it was hers. Gideon glared at the woman collapsed on the wet tiles. Murderous rage flashed in his eyes, and he opened his mouth to tell her to get the hell out. Until he heard Linda’s whimpering, terrified voice. “It was… your wife. She gave me your room number.” 5 Late into the night, I lay in bed and tapped open my social media feed. The very first post on my timeline belonged to Linda. It was a dimly lit photo of two hands tightly intertwined against crisp, snow white hotel sheets. The man’s wrist bore a distinct, dark mole. It was unmistakably Gideon’s. In my previous life, after Gideon and I had finalized our vicious divorce, Linda had used every connection she had to make sure their intimate bedroom photos crossed my screen. Back then, I was still holding onto a pathetic shred of hope regarding him. Seeing him physically with another woman completely shattered my sanity. That night, I had called him dozens of times in a manic frenzy. He finally picked up, his voice dripping with icy contempt. “You are interrupting me and my girlfriend.” “Do you want to beg for a reconciliation? Well, you will have to start by getting in line as my mistress.” “After all, you were the one who practically begged for the divorce.” I developed severe insomnia after that, lying awake for nights on end, staring blankly at the ceiling. I kept praying it was all a horrific nightmare. I thought if I just closed my eyes tight enough, I would wake up and everything would be exactly as it used to be. But my reality truly devolved into a living nightmare. And Gideon was the sole architect of my hell. To punish me for leaving him, he leveraged his empire to force me into repaying tens of millions in inherited debt. At his unspoken command, every reputable firm in the financial district blacklisted my resume. I was reduced to selling my physical labor just to afford a single meal. I delivered food in torrential rain, scrubbed restaurant grease traps, and cleaned public restrooms. It was that extreme, bone deep exhaustion that ultimately led to the fatal traffic accident. But in this life, I had not stood in the way of their grand romance. I had practically gift wrapped Linda and delivered her straight to his bed. Gideon had to be thrilled, right? I tossed my phone onto the nightstand, closed my eyes, and fell into the most beautifully peaceful sleep I had enjoyed in years. That was until the rapid, violent ringing of my phone cut through the dead of night like a thunderclap. It was Gideon. His voice sounded incredibly rough, almost ragged. “Were you asleep?” I nodded against my pillow, my voice thick with grogginess. “Is there an emergency?” “Did you—” He hesitated, a sharp intake of breath echoing through the speaker. “Did you check your social media feed tonight?” My guard instantly went up. “No.” His tone darkened, heavy with suspicion. “You always scroll through your feed before you sleep.” I paused, playing the perfect fool. “I was just too exhausted tonight.” Dead silence fell over the line. After what felt like an eternity, Gideon spoke, his voice completely hollow. “Linda somehow found her way into my private suite tonight.” Wow. Why on earth was he telling me this? Was the guilt of post-coital clarity hitting him? I let out an indifferent ‘oh’. “She must have gotten the floor numbers mixed up.” “She must have been terrified, poor thing. Make sure you comfort her properly.” “Was that all you called to tell me?” Gideon’s breathing through the receiver grew visibly ragged and strained. I sighed, entirely dismissive. “Look, whatever you want me to say to make you feel better, just tell me and I will say it.” More agonizing silence. If this were the old me, I would have been frantic, bombarding him with a million questions, begging to know if he was okay. I probably would have thrown on a coat and booked the next red-eye flight to Chicago. But right now, all I wanted was to go back to sleep. “Gideon, do you need anything else? If you don’t have a point to make, I am hanging up.” I squeezed my eyes shut. “I am genuinely, physically exhausted.” And without waiting for the billionaire CEO on the other end to formulate a response, I ruthlessly ended the call.

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With our wedding approaching, I was happily planning our new home. Jason came back from his business trip and brought two boxes of gifts to the office. He gave Gary some exclusive imported coffee beans. He got Daisy a top-tier lavender sleep mist. He carefully catered to everyone’s preferences, but stood completely empty-handed in front of me. He casually tossed a rosewater pastry that Daisy didn’t want onto my desk. “I was in a rush and forgot to count you in. Just make do with this pastry.” Daisy leaned in with a sickly sweet smile. “Jason is so thoughtful. You are such a lucky woman, Annie.” I looked down at the ingredient label. The word ‘rose’ stared back at me, and my heart went completely numb. Seven years together. He had accompanied Daisy to countless floral exhibitions. Yet, he still could not remember that I was severely allergic to roses. The slightest contact could kill me. He didn’t even care about my life anymore. What was I still clinging to? I didn’t humbly remind him like I used to. Instead, I unlocked my phone and calmly contacted our wedding planner. “Please cancel the wedding for next month. I am backing out.” 1 Hanging up the phone, my screen went dark. I pushed the pastry to the corner of my desk, pulled out a wet wipe, and meticulously cleaned my fingers. Through the glass partition, Jason was standing by Daisy’s cubicle. Her eyes curved into a bright smile. When she reached for her mug, her fingertips naturally brushed against the back of his hand. Jason didn’t pull away. “Annie, is the pastry not to your liking?” Daisy’s voice echoed from the doorway. Jason walked in behind her, his brows slightly furrowed. “Why aren’t you eating it?” He glanced at the corner of the desk, his tone practiced and laced with reprimand. “Daisy specifically picked the biggest piece for you. Stop looking so miserable.” I threw the used wet wipe into the trash can. “I don’t like it.” I looked at him, my voice very quiet. Jason looked irritated. He stepped forward and tapped his knuckles against the desk. “Annie, are you throwing another tantrum?” He lowered his voice. “I have been working around the clock on this trip. I genuinely didn’t have time to shop for gifts. Are you really going to make a huge deal out of a pastry?” I stared at his face. After seven years together, there was a time when he would notice if I even frowned slightly. Now, he only thought I was being unreasonable. He had forgotten. Valentine’s Day of our sophomore year in college, he mistakenly bought me a cake with rose extract. I took one bite, suffered acute laryngeal edema, and was resuscitated in the ER for three hours. He knelt by my hospital bed with red, tear-filled eyes, swearing he would never let anything containing roses near me again. Now, a box clearly labeled as a double-layered rose pastry was sitting casually right next to my hand. “I am not throwing a tantrum.” Daisy stepped forward and tugged gently at Jason’s sleeve. “Jason, maybe Annie is just exhausted from the wedding prep.” She offered an understanding smile. “Don’t be mad at her. It is my fault. I didn’t pick something she likes.” Jason patted the back of her hand, the gesture heavy with reassurance. “She is just spoiled.” He turned to me, his tone softening a fraction. “Alright. I will take you to that exclusive Omakase place you love tonight as an apology. We are shooting our wedding photos next week. Cheer up.” I watched him play his familiar game of giving a slap followed by a piece of candy. I used to fall for this routine every single time. As long as he lowered his pride slightly, I would mentally make excuses for him. He was too busy. He was under pressure. He was just careless. But right now, I was suddenly, terrifyingly awake. “No need.” Jason froze. He clearly didn’t expect me to refuse. According to our usual script, I was supposed to take the out he offered, and he would smoothly move on. “Suit yourself.” His face darkened, and he tugged at his tie. “Whenever you are done throwing a fit, you can come talk to me.” With that, he turned and walked out of the office. I lowered my head, my gaze falling on the document sitting on my desk. It was a cross-regional transfer application. The company was opening a new branch in a neighboring city and desperately needed an experienced director to take the helm. Previously, Jason had forbidden me from taking it. He claimed long-distance would ruin our relationship and insisted I shouldn’t disrupt my life right before our wedding. I compromised, even giving up a major promotion just for him. I picked up my pen and steadily signed ‘Annie Bennett’ on the applicant line. The nib scratched against the paper, making a soft, definitive sound. After signing, I swept the rose pastry and its packaging straight into the trash can. Then, I opened my phone and set Jason’s messages to ‘Do Not Disturb’. His last text was still sitting in our chat from the night before. “Coming back tomorrow. Brought a surprise for you.” It turned out his surprise was forcing me to see exactly where I stood. I placed my phone face down on the desk, opened my laptop, and began organizing my handover files. It would take about a week for the transfer approval to come through. That was just enough time for me to wipe my presence clean from this place. 2 At six in the evening, the office slowly emptied out. Jason pushed the door open, his car keys dangling from his fingers. “Let’s go.” His tone was perfectly normal, as if the unpleasantness from the morning had never happened. “We are heading to the Plaza Hotel to finalize the banquet menu. Haven’t you been craving their lobster for days?” I closed my laptop without looking at him. “We don’t need to go.” I stood up and pushed my chair back into place. Jason frowned. He took a step forward and gripped my wrist. “Annie, how long are you going to keep this up?” Exhaustion bled into his voice. “I took the initiative to come pick you up. Can you please just be a little mature?” His palm was radiating heat, but the back of my hand was ice cold. Just as I was about to pull my hand away, his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone for his VIP contacts. Jason paused, immediately releasing my wrist to pull out his phone. The name ‘Daisy’ flashed on the screen. He answered, his tone softening instantly. “What’s wrong?” Daisy’s tearful voice drifted through the speaker, accompanied by faint whimpers about severe stomach cramps and not being able to move. Jason’s expression changed in a heartbeat. “Don’t move. Stay at your desk. I am taking you to the emergency room right now.” He hung up the phone and looked up at me, his eyes filled with an unapologetic, expected sense of apology. “Annie, Daisy is having acute stomach spasms. I have to get her to the ER.” He shoved his keys back into his pocket. “Go set the menu yourself. Pick whatever fits your taste, and I will cover the bill.” He didn’t wait for my response before turning on his heel. Right at the door, he stopped and threw a sentence over his shoulder. “Don’t be petty. She doesn’t have any family in this city. I can’t just leave her.” The door clicked shut, and his hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. I stood frozen, staring at the wrist he had just let go of. He used to do this all the time. Halfway through a movie, Daisy texted saying her apartment lost power and she was scared. He left me sitting in the theater alone. On the day of my wedding dress fitting, Daisy claimed her car broke down. He left me waiting in the bridal boutique in my gown for three hours. Every single time, he would tell me not to be petty. I used to believe it was because he was kind and responsible. Now I knew he simply believed my waiting for him was an unconditional right. I grabbed my purse and took a cab to the Plaza Hotel. The banquet manager was already waiting in the grand lobby. Seeing me arrive alone, he paused in surprise. “Ms. Bennett, is Mr. Mikaels not joining you?” The manager eagerly led me toward the VIP lounge. “The executive chef prepared a special tasting menu for you both today.” “He has other business.” Stepping into the VIP lounge, I saw the menu booklet resting on the table, right next to the schedule for next month’s wedding. The manager flipped the menu open. “Look here. Mr. Mikaels specifically requested that no onions or garlic be used in any of the dishes, and he added your favorite crème brûlée for dessert.” I stared at the name of the dessert, feeling a bitter sense of irony. He remembered that I hated onions and garlic. He remembered that I loved sweets. But he couldn’t remember that touching a rose would kill me. His attentiveness was entirely selective. “Mr. Odell.” I closed the menu and pushed it toward the center of the table. “I am not doing the tasting.” The manager froze, the professional smile stiffening on his face. “Is there something you are unhappy with? We can make adjustments right now.” “It has nothing to do with the food.” I reached into my bag, pulled out the banquet deposit contract, and placed it flat on the table. “Please process the cancellation for me.” The VIP lounge fell dead silent for ten whole seconds. The manager stared at me in disbelief. “Ms. Bennett, the wedding is less than a month away. If you cancel now, the deposit is completely non-refundable. Did you and Mr. Mikaels have a fight? Would you like to take some time to discuss it?” “There is nothing to discuss.” I pulled a pen from my bag and uncapped it. “Deduct the breach of contract fee as stated, and refund the remaining balance to the original account.” Seeing my absolute resolve, the manager wiped the sweat from his forehead and went to fetch the termination agreement. “Are you absolutely certain? This is a sixty-table grand ballroom.” “I am certain.” I signed my name at the bottom of the agreement. No hesitation. No trembling fingers. After signing, I walked out of the hotel. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jason. “Daisy is on an IV drip. The doctor says they need to monitor her overnight.” “Send me a copy of the menu when you are done. I will buy you a new designer bag tomorrow to make up for it. Don’t be mad.” I looked at the message, finding it incredibly laughable. He didn’t even bother asking if I got home safely. He just directly tried to buy off my grievances with material things. 3 Returning to the apartment, I pulled out a suitcase and laid it open on the rug. Jason had purchased this penthouse, but I had personally designed and furnished every inch of it. From the plush rug in the living room to the ceramic plates in the kitchen, every single item held my quiet hopes for our future. Now, I only picked out the things that strictly belonged to me. A few everyday clothes, some professional reference books, and my two work laptops. As for the matching couple’s pajamas and the matching slippers, I didn’t lay a single finger on them. Halfway through packing, the electronic lock on the front door chimed. I paused, shoved the suitcase into the corner of the walk-in closet, and covered it with a few garment bags. Jason pushed the door open, carrying the distinct, sharp scent of hospital sanitizer. Seeing me sitting on the edge of the bed folding clothes, he walked over and wrapped his arms around my waist from behind. He rested his chin heavily on my shoulder, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You aren’t asleep yet?” I didn’t struggle. I just offered a faint sound of acknowledgment. “Are you still angry?” He tightened his grip, his warm breath fanning against my ear. “Daisy is all alone in this city. It is pitiful when she gets sick. I am going to be your husband. Can’t you just be a little more forgiving?” He always did this. He used the softest, gentlest tone to lock a moral collar around my neck. If I said no, I was unforgiving. I was unreasonable. “I am not angry.” I smoothed out the shirt in my hands and placed it in the drawer. Jason seemed to let out a breath of relief. He turned me around and dipped his head, intending to kiss me. I turned my face away. His lips landed awkwardly on my cheek. He froze, his eyes darkening instantly. “Annie Bennett.” He called me by my full name, his tone lacing with a subtle warning. “I am just tired.” I stood up, avoiding his gaze. “We have to go pick up the wedding bands tomorrow.” Hearing the mention of the rings, Jason’s expression immediately softened. We had custom-ordered them from an exclusive private atelier two months ago. The inner bands were engraved with our combined initials. “Alright.” He massaged his temples. “Tomorrow is Saturday. I will spend the entire day with you. We can go check out the location for our wedding photoshoot while we are at it.” He made the promise with absolute certainty. I merely lowered my eyes and said okay. The next morning, we drove to the atelier. The designer smiled warmly, pushing two velvet boxes across the counter. “Mr. Mikaels, Ms. Bennett, your custom rings are ready. Please try them on for sizing.” I opened my box. It was a minimalist platinum band. The inside was cleanly engraved with ‘C.H. & A.B.’ Jason reached out to take his ring, but his phone rang at the exact same moment. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately. “What’s wrong?” Whatever the person on the other end said, Jason’s face hardened instantly. “I left the files in the second drawer on the left side of my desk. Look again. You still can’t find them?” He checked his watch, his brows knitting tightly. “Fine. Don’t panic. I am heading back to the office right now.” He hung up and looked at me. “Annie, Daisy lost the core data she needs for the afternoon board meeting. I have to go back and help her find it.” He grabbed his car keys, his tone hurried. “Try the ring on yourself. If it fits, just bring it home. We can look at the photoshoot locations another day.” I sat perfectly still on the velvet barstool, watching his rushing figure. “Jason.” I called out to him. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. Impatience was already bleeding into his eyes. “Can’t she find it herself?” I looked straight into his eyes, asking with absolute calm. “That data dictates the budget for the next quarter. A junior employee like her cannot handle this kind of crisis alone.” He frowned deeply. “Can you please not lose your sense of priority at a critical time like this?” A sense of priority. It turned out that, compared to our wedding rings, Daisy’s careless mistake was his true priority. “Understood.” Jason seemed satisfied with my obedience today. He walked back quickly, pressed a rushed kiss to my forehead, and said, “Be good. I will take you out for an amazing dinner tonight.” The shop bell chimed, and he was gone. The designer stood awkwardly behind the counter. “Ms. Bennett, about the rings…” I placed Jason’s ring back into its box and pushed it toward her. “Do me a favor.” I looked at the designer, my voice perfectly steady. “I am not taking the men’s ring.” I handed my ring over to her. “Please grind off Jason’s initials on the inside of this one. Leave only my name.” From this day forward, I did not need anyone else’s name permanently carved into my world. 4 On Monday morning, the official approval for my regional transfer was issued. The HR Director called me into her office, looking at me with heavy concern. “Annie, the new branch is basically a startup. Going there means dealing with a lot of hardship. You are getting married in less than a month. Does Mr. Mikaels know you are leaving?” “He doesn’t need to know.” I took the document and steadily signed my name on the confirmation line. “I applied for this unilaterally. I will report to the new office on Friday.” The director sighed heavily and didn’t press the issue further. Returning to my desk, I began wiping all personal files from my computer. Over the next three days, I systematically dismantled the seven years of ties binding me to Jason. I packed the last of my personal belongings from the penthouse and shipped them to the executive housing at the new branch. I quietly exited the group chats with his family, offering zero explanations. I contacted the bridal boutique and sold my custom gown. The one I had waited six months for went at cost to a desperate bride who needed it immediately. Thursday night was my final night in the apartment. I placed my key on the entryway tray. Right next to it, I left the platinum ring, now completely stripped of his initials. Having done all of this, I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked out the door. Friday afternoon, I sat on the high-speed train heading to the neighboring city. The scenery blurred past the window. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Jason. “We are doing your dress fitting tonight. I will leave work half an hour early to pick you up. I promise I will absolutely not be late this time.” A second later, he sent a photo of a bouquet of pink tulips. “Saw these walking past a florist. I thought they suited you perfectly. I will bring them to you tonight.” I looked at the photo of the flowers and my lips twitched in a joyless smile. He finally remembered that I couldn’t touch roses. But he completely forgot that I utterly despised the color pink. I didn’t reply. I tapped on his profile and hit ‘Delete’. The moment the red exclamation mark appeared, I let out a long, shuddering breath of absolute relief. The train shot through a dark tunnel, plunging the cabin into temporary shadows. I closed my eyes and leaned back against the seat. Jason was probably still radiating absolute confidence. He truly believed that as long as he showed up on time tonight with a bouquet of flowers, I would forgive his endless string of absences exactly like I always did. He didn’t know that I didn’t belong to him anymore. At seven-thirty that evening, the city skyline lit up with neon. Holding the carefully selected bouquet of pink tulips, Jason pushed open the door to the penthouse exactly on time. He casually brushed a speck of dust off his shoulder, a self-assured smile playing on his lips. He fully expected to see Annie walking toward him the second she heard the door, reaching out to take the flowers just like she always did. He had even rehearsed the lines in his head. He knew exactly how he would lean down to kiss her, how he would coax a smile out of her. “Annie, I’m home.” However, the only thing greeting him was dead silence and the chilling, empty air of an abandoned space. The confident smile froze on Jason’s face. He stopped mid-motion while taking off his shoes, his gaze instinctively dropping to the entryway tray. Resting silently on the tray was a spare key to the apartment. Right beside it was the velvet box they had just picked up a few days ago. A nameless, suffocating panic violently seized Jason’s chest. He dropped the tulips onto the floor and reached out with trembling fingers to pry the box open. Inside lay the pristine platinum women’s ring. But the inside of the band, where their combined initials were supposed to be, had been brutally ground down. The letters ‘J.M.’ had been ruthlessly erased, leaving behind only a harsh, jagged scar that seemed to silently mock his overwhelming arrogance. Pink tulips lay scattered and crushed across the rug. Jason gripped the ruined ring so tightly his knuckles turned bone white, his eyes instantly flushing a terrifying, bloodshot red.

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“Honey, the soles of my shoes are lambskin and cannot get wet. Please come pick me up.” Just as I hit send on the text to my husband, Bruno, a barrage of glowing text suddenly exploded across my vision in the pouring rain. [I seriously cannot stand this wicked wife. She treats the billionaire male lead like a dog.] [Our sweet heroine just joined his company. Once the male lead gets a taste of her gentle understanding, he will kick this spoiled brat to the curb.] [Hilarious. After the divorce, she has zero real skills. She will end up as a desperate cam streamer just to pay her rent.] Staring at the screen full of floating, malicious words, I clenched my fingers so tightly my knuckles turned white. Right at that moment, Bruno rushed over under a black umbrella, half of his bespoke suit completely soaked by the rain. Noticing my pale knuckles, he paused, then carefully tugged at the cuff of my coat. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. If I drove any faster, I would have been speeding.” 1. The glowing comments were still scrolling frantically above my head. [Thinking about how this villainess actually got to marry the male lead makes me feel so bad for our sweet heroine.] [Just wait until the male lead gets together with the real heroine. Then he will finally know what true love is.] [The more she acts out now, the harder she will fall later. Just thinking about it is so satisfying.] True love? When I lived in a freezing basement with him, splitting a single stale bagel for two meals, where was that sweet heroine? When I sold the house my mother left me and liquidated my dowry to help him survive his financial crisis, where was she? Now that Bruno was a billionaire CEO, she wanted to swoop in and harvest the fruits of my labor? On what grounds? “Sweetheart? Why are your hands so cold?” Bruno lowered his head and rubbed my hands to warm them up. His brow furrowed, his tone incredibly cautious and gentle. But looking at his handsome face, only one thought echoed in my mind. He was going to push me to the brink of ruin for another woman. I pulled my hand back. “I do not want to go home. Take me to the company.” Bruno froze in surprise. “Why do you want to go to the office today?” “I want to wait for you to finish work. We can go home together.” His eyes curved into a brilliant smile. “Okay.” When we arrived at the executive floor, his secretary immediately rushed over to remind him of a pending board meeting. “Sweetheart, go wait in my office. I will be back as soon as I can.” He hurried off, leaving me to walk into the top floor suite alone. Pushing open the heavy oak doors, the first thing that caught my eye was a bag of premium imported oranges sitting squarely on his pristine desk. They were a vibrant, flawless orange, each one carefully wrapped in delicate tissue paper. One glance told me they were ridiculously expensive. Just as I reached out to touch them, the floating comments exploded again. [Villainess, get your hands off! The sweet heroine bought those for the male lead. They are twenty five dollars each!] [She usually only dares to eat discount dollar meals, but she spent that much to buy him premium fruit. She really loves him so much.] [The heroine’s love is true love. The wicked wife only knows how to take and take.] Twenty five dollars for a single orange. She certainly was generous. I turned around, walked straight into the main administrative bullpen, and held up the bag of fruit. “Who bought these oranges?” A girl with a low ponytail timidly stood up from her cubicle. She had a very pure, innocent look. Her eyes were wide and nervous, resembling a frightened deer. “I bought them.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “If the Madam does not like them, I can take them back to my grandmother. She usually cannot bear to spend money on things like this.” The atmosphere in the room shifted instantly. The gazes directed at me suddenly held a heavy layer of judgment. It was as if they were all silently saying: The poor girl was just trying to be nice, why are you throwing your weight around as the boss’s wife? I did not get angry. I simply held up the oranges and smiled brightly. “You misunderstood me.” “These oranges are absolutely delicious. After all, they are twenty five dollars a piece.” The expressions on the employees’ faces shifted again. When they looked back at the girl, their eyes were filled with ambiguous speculation and quiet judgment. The girl’s face flushed a violent crimson. She opened her mouth to explain herself. I did not give her the chance. “Everyone has been working incredibly hard lately. I just ordered a massive shipment of these exact oranges. After work, every single person can go to the reception desk and claim a full box.” The office erupted into immediate cheers. “Thank you, Mrs. Crawford!” “The Madam is so generous!” The girl’s innocent smile completely stiffened on her face. Her hands gripped the hem of her shirt so tightly her knuckles turned white. The floating comments returned with a vengeance. [Ugh, trying to buy people’s loyalty. She is not even spending her own money!] [What else can the villainess do besides spend money? Once the male lead realizes how amazing the heroine is, let us see how long she can stay arrogant.] [Exactly. The male lead belongs to our sweet girl. What is she so proud of?] I looked directly at the trembling girl. “What is your name?” “Sophie. Sophie Hayes.” I nodded slowly, then turned around and walked back into the private office. A short while later, Bruno returned from his meeting. He pushed the door open with a warm smile. “Sweetheart, what were you doing out there earlier?” “Fire Sophie.” His smile froze instantly. “What?” “I said, terminate Sophie’s employment.” 2. Bruno frowned deeply. “Just because of a bag of oranges? She was just trying to be nice.” “She has ulterior motives regarding you.” Bruno stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a soft laugh. He walked over and tried to grab my hand. “You are overthinking things. She is just a young girl fresh out of college. Her work performance is outstanding. She personally secured several major contracts for the marketing department.” “I do not care about your company’s affairs.” I pulled my hand out of his grasp. “But I absolutely despise this person.” Bruno let out a heavy sigh, his tone softening to a coaxing whisper. “Sweetheart, please stop making a scene.” “The company has rules. I cannot just fire top tier talent based entirely on your intuition. What would people say if word got out?” [The male lead is protecting our sweet girl! So romantic!] [Look at the villainess eating her own bitter medicine. So satisfying.] [This is only the beginning. Later on, when she tries to frame the heroine, the male lead directly locks her up in a psychiatric ward.] A psychiatric ward. It felt as though a giant hand had violently crushed my heart. The pain was so sharp I could barely breathe. I looked up at him. His eyes still held gentleness. He still had patience. He was still trying to coax me. But he had no idea that the floating text had already shown me my gruesome ending. I closed my eyes tightly, forcing the turbulent emotions back down into the depths of my chest. “Fine. You do not have to fire her.” Bruno let out a visible breath of relief. “Thank you for understanding, sweetheart.” “Transfer all of your assets and properties into my name. Have it legally notarized.” The massive office fell dead silent. Bruno’s expression turned completely rigid. “Avery, we are in a corporate setting.” His voice dropped into a low, warning register. “Stop being completely unreasonable.” I stared at him, offering absolutely no response. His phone suddenly began to ring. He answered it, exchanged a few brief words, and hung up. He looked back at me. “I have a business dinner tonight. I will have the driver take you home first.” He did not wait for my response. He turned on his heel and walked out. His footsteps were incredibly fast. It looked exactly like he was running away. [Haha, the villainess is getting depressed!] [Serves her right. Demanding all his assets? Let us see if he ever pays attention to her again.] [Later on, when the male lead gets together with the heroine, he voluntarily hands over all his financial power. The difference in how he treats them is obvious.] I honestly do not know how I made it back to the empty mansion. By the time I snapped out of my daze, I was sitting in front of the computer in the study. The floating comments claimed that after the divorce, I would have zero skills and be forced into becoming a desperate cam streamer. What a complete joke. I double clicked a hidden folder on my desktop. It was completely filled with my professional photography portfolios. Alongside the images were scanned copies of several prestigious photography magazine awards. I scrolled through the images one by one. My gaze finally stopped on the very last file. It was a massive photo mosaic. It used thousands of pictures of Bruno and me to form a portrait of his face. Every single small photo was a cherished memory. Except for the very center, right over where his heart should be. That spot was completely empty. It was supposed to hold a photograph of the Northern Lights. Back in college, we had made a solemn promise to go see the aurora together. He told me the Northern Lights were the ultimate symbol of eternal love. Ten years had passed. We never made the trip. Opening a premium job hunting portal, I began filling out a fresh resume. I typed out every single one of my past awards and exhibitions. I attached the link to my digital portfolio at the very bottom. Then, I clicked submit. The very next day, I began picking up all the life skills I had thrown away during my marriage. I started by making my own breakfast. I ignited the stove and poured oil into the hot pan. When I cracked the eggs in, the hot oil violently splattered. A burning drop landed directly on the back of my hand, causing me to hiss sharply in pain. Bruno came sprinting down the grand staircase. He grabbed my hand and shoved it under the running cold water of the sink. “Who told you to do this kind of work?” [The drama queen is at it again. Pretending to be an independent woman.] [Does she seriously think doing this will make the male lead feel sorry for her?] [Hilarious. The male lead is just going to think she has lost her mind.] Bruno forced me to sit down on the kitchen island stool while he gently applied burn ointment to my skin. “Are you still angry about yesterday?” I remained completely silent. “I swear there is absolutely nothing going on between her and me.” “If it truly bothers you that much, I will have human resources transfer her to a branch office out of state.” The floating comments instantly went into a frenzy. [No! If she gets transferred, how will their romance develop?!] [Do not panic. They are the official couple. Even if she gets transferred, destiny will bring them back together.] [The male lead will belong to our sweet girl sooner or later. The wicked wife is just wasting her energy.] “There is no need. How you arrange your personnel is entirely your business.” Bruno looked at me, hesitating as if he wanted to say something more. He told me to sit still and not move. He went back to clean up the mess I had made at the stove and finished cooking the breakfast himself. While we were eating, my phone vibrated quietly on the marble table. It was an interview invitation. Starlight Media. It was the elite entertainment company I had dreamed of joining right after graduation. They exclusively managed top tier celebrities. That included my absolute favorite idol, Asher Lockwood. I clicked accept on the invitation, the corners of my lips involuntarily curling upward. Bruno looked up, his gaze sharpening with suspicion. “Who are you chatting with?” “An interview confirmation. I do not want to be a full time housewife anymore.” I took a large, satisfying bite of my food, my mood significantly improved. Bruno opened his mouth to object, but ultimately swallowed his words. Perhaps he just did not want to ruin the rare peaceful morning. After breakfast, Bruno left for the corporate tower. I stripped off my elegant designer dress and changed into a familiar, comfortable pantsuit. The interview went surprisingly well. However, landing a position at a powerhouse like Starlight Media required passing at least two more rounds of interviews before a final decision was made. Over the next few weeks, Bruno seemed to become increasingly busy. He came home later and later every single night. Occasionally, his clothes carried the faint, lingering scent of a perfume that simply would not wash out. I knew perfectly well that Sophie had not been transferred. But since I had already mentally prepared myself to walk away, I only focused on the path directly under my own feet. 3. It was my first official day on the job. My direct supervisor was a woman in her forties named Valerie. She was sharp, efficient, and incredibly capable. “Avery, I reviewed your portfolio. Your composition shows a lot of unique vision.” “Thank you, Valerie.” “Newcomers always start by shadowing the outdoor location shoots. Can you handle the physical strain?” “Absolutely.” The rookie phase was brutally exhausting. Outdoor shoots meant enduring the scorching sun and biting wind while lugging heavy camera equipment all over the city. After just one week, my face had tanned significantly, and the heavy camera straps had left two permanent red welts across my shoulders. But I genuinely loved it. The moment the lens pulled into sharp focus, the entire chaotic world went completely silent. There was only light and shadow. There was only the exact moment I wanted to capture. One afternoon, I had just powered down my camera and found a spot of shade under a tree to rest. Bruno sent a text message. “Sweetheart, I have another business dinner tonight. Do not wait up for me to eat.” “Do not push yourself too hard at work. You always have me.” Just as I began typing a generic reply, the floating comments flared to life again. [The male lead is finally learning how to lie for the heroine!] [He says it is a business dinner, but he is actually helping the sweet girl move into her new apartment. They are decorating their little home together!] [The male lead looks so handsome when he cooks! Such domestic bliss! They are a perfect match!] Cooking. He had never once cooked a proper meal for me. Back when we first got together, he was so poor his pockets echoed. My heart ached for him, so I fought to do all the cooking to save him time and energy. Later, when he became ridiculously wealthy, he hired private chefs and housekeepers. There was even less reason for him to ever touch a spatula. Yet he was willing to personally cook a meal for that woman. My eyes suddenly felt a little dry and stinging. I set my phone down on the grass and did not reply. It was nearly midnight when Bruno finally returned home. I was lying on my side in the massive bed, my eyes tightly closed. He walked into the bedroom and leaned down, intending to press a kiss to my forehead. There it was again. That foreign perfume. I rolled over, smoothly dodging his lips. “Sweetheart?” “I am exhausted. Go to sleep.” Bruno stood in suffocating silence for a very long time. “Alright. Goodnight.” When I woke up the next morning, there was a thick legal document resting on my nightstand. It was a notarized asset transfer agreement. Bruno had already signed his name at the bottom. The floating comments went absolutely insane. [What the hell? Did the male lead seriously give his entire net worth to the villainess?!] [Do not panic! Legally, it can be reclaimed! A marital asset transfer done before a divorce can be easily revoked in court.] [He definitely just feels guilty for spending so much time with the heroine lately. He is just doing this to keep the wicked wife from throwing a tantrum.] I had almost been genuinely moved. I placed the document back down on the nightstand. Then, I opened my chat with my best friend, Harper, who was a ruthless divorce attorney. “Help me draft a formal divorce agreement. Divide the assets strictly according to standard marital law.” Later that week, Valerie called me into her glass enclosed office. “Avery, we landed a massive contract. The client specifically requested you as the lead photographer.” “Who is it?” “Asher Lockwood.” I completely froze, certain I had misheard her. “Are you serious?” Valerie tossed the glossy contract across the desk toward me, a proud smile on her face. “Dead serious. He specifically reviewed your portfolio and demanded we book your schedule.” The fingers I used to open the folder were trembling slightly. Asher Lockwood. He was the idol I had worshipped since middle school. Back in college, I had starved myself for weeks just to save enough money to buy a ticket to his concert. I ended up fainting in the middle of a lecture hall and became the laughingstock of the entire campus. When Bruno found out, it was the very first time he had ever screamed at me. “Have you lost your mind? What is so great about him? You almost killed yourself over a celebrity!” Years later, when Bruno became a billionaire titan, his corporation collaborated with Asher’s agency several times. Yet he never once bothered to ask for a simple autograph for me. Stepping out of Valerie’s office, my first instinct was to text Bruno and share the incredible news. But remembering his explosive reaction from years ago, my fingers hovered uncertainly over the keyboard. In the end, I typed out a very different message. “I have to go on a business trip. I will be gone for about a week.” It took him over ten minutes to finally reply. “Alright. Do not push yourself too hard. You have me.” Staring at the words “You have me,” I felt an overwhelming wave of dark irony. I had him? He was going to completely belong to someone else very soon. 4. The photoshoot took place on a rugged, secluded beach. I arrived at four in the morning. I set up the heavy tripods, adjusted the exposure parameters, and ran the light tests in the freezing dark. The coastal wind was brutal. The sand whipped against my face, stinging my cheeks, but I was too focused to care. My heart had been racing since last night and refused to slow down. At exactly seven o’clock. A sleek black luxury van pulled up to the edge of the sand. Asher stepped out of the vehicle. He was wearing a simple white t-shirt and dark slacks. His hair was completely unstyled, falling effortlessly across his forehead. He looked almost exactly like the brilliant young boy on stage ten years ago. No, he had changed. He was leaner now. His jawline was sharper, more defined, and his eyes held something deeper. It was the undeniable gravity of a man who had been tempered by time. “Hello, Ms. Avery.” He extended a hand toward me. I took it, my palm slightly slick with nervous sweat. “Hello.” “I studied your portfolio. Your composition is incredibly bold, and your mastery of lighting is phenomenal. I specifically asked Valerie to clear your schedule.” He offered a devastatingly handsome smile. “I hope I did not put too much pressure on you.” “Not at all.” I took a deep breath, forcing my professional mask into place. “I will give you my absolute best.” After the brief introductions, we dove straight into the work. Asher was a dream to photograph. His spatial awareness and connection with the camera were so flawless that he barely needed any direction. I crouched on the wet sand, searching for the perfect angles. The midday sun scorched my back, but my mood was soaring higher than it had in years. During a brief water break, my phone buzzed in my pocket. Harper had sent over the finalized divorce agreement. “Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” I stared at the PDF file. I thought about the lingering, foreign perfume on Bruno’s collar. I thought about the floating comments praising their “domestic bliss.” “Yes.” Rather than waiting around to be utterly discarded, I might as well strike while he still felt a shred of guilt and secure a decent alimony fund. On the third day of the shoot. I was carefully adjusting my aperture settings when the floating comments suddenly erupted into a blinding frenzy. [Oh my god! The male lead and our sweet girl went to Tromsø! The Northern Lights! It is so unbelievably beautiful!] [It is minus twenty degrees in Norway. The male lead was afraid the sweet girl would freeze, so he took off his own designer coat and wrapped it around her! So romantic!] [Holy crap, this is the exact scene from the original novel where they officially fall in love!] [Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!] The heavy professional camera slipped from my trembling hands and crashed onto the sand. “Ms. Avery? Are you alright?” Asher quickly walked over. “I am fine. Just fine.” I crouched down to retrieve the camera. My fingers were shaking so violently that it took me two tries to finally pick it up. The Northern Lights. He had promised to take me to see the Northern Lights. Back in that freezing college basement, he had held my hands tightly and sworn, “Avery, when I finally make it big, we are going to see the aurora.” He said the Northern Lights were the ultimate symbol of eternal love. He made me wait ten agonizing years. And now, he had taken another woman to see them. “Ms. Avery, you look incredibly pale.” Asher bent down, looking at me with genuine concern. “Are you suffering from heatstroke?” “I think I might be.” Asher immediately ordered his assistant to fetch some electrolyte medicine and handed the bottle to me himself. “Go back to the hotel and rest. We can resume the shoot tomorrow.” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. My mind was a complete wreck. Any photos I took right now would be utterly lifeless. “I am so sorry for delaying the production schedule.” “Do not worry about it. Your health comes first.” Returning to my hotel room, I sat numbly on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The air conditioner hummed loudly, blending with the erratic thumping of my heart. Suddenly, I found the entire situation completely hilarious. I had already decided to walk away. Why was I still crying over a broken, ten year old promise? I opened Bruno’s chat and sent over the PDF of the divorce agreement. “If everything looks correct, we can sign this as soon as I return.” I honestly expected him to call me the very second he saw it. I thought he would at least ask me why. But there was nothing. An entire hour crawled by. Bruno did not send a single reply. Around nine o’clock that evening, the doorbell chimed. I opened the door to find Asher standing in the hallway, holding a warm cup of artisan tea. “Feeling any better?” He handed the cup to me. “Much better, thank you. I promise I will make up for the lost time tomorrow.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, I have a favor to ask you.” “Next month is my parents’ golden anniversary. I would love for you to shoot their commemorative portraits. Can you clear some time in your schedule? I will pay triple your usual rate.” I blinked in genuine surprise. “Me?” “Yes. Your lens captures genuine warmth.” “Thank you for the incredible compliment. I would be honored.” “Would you be open to grabbing dinner together? My parents happen to be in town, and we could sit down and discuss the aesthetic direction.” “Absolutely. Let me change into something appropriate.” After Asher headed down to the lobby, I checked my phone one last time. Still no response from Bruno. I changed into an elegant evening dress and headed down to the private dining room Asher had reserved. He and his parents were already seated at the table. “Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Lockwood.” “Sit, sit, please do not be so formal.” Asher’s mother immediately took my hand, her eyes sweeping over me with clear delight. “You are such a beautiful young woman.” “Thank you, Mrs. Lockwood.” Asher sat directly across from me. He offered a warm, reassuring smile and mouthed the words: Do not be nervous. I smiled back. Mrs. Lockwood held my hand, happily chatting about a dozen different things. She talked about her youth with Asher’s father, how they first met, and the trials they overcame to build their life together. “Fifty years.” She patted the back of my hand gently. “Avery, I am leaving these precious photos entirely in your capable hands.” “Please do not worry, Mrs. Lockwood. I will capture them perfectly.” Right in the middle of my sentence, the heavy mahogany doors of the private room were violently shoved open. Every single person at the table turned to look. Bruno was standing in the doorway. He looked exhausted and frantic. His tie was loose and crooked. His eyes locked onto Asher, then shifted to his parents, and finally landed squarely on me. His eyes were bloodshot. “You want to divorce me… for him?” His voice was shaking with raw fury. “You are already meeting his parents?”

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Before my roommate went to meet her online crush, I warned her. I told her Eric was way out of her league, a guy who stood on a pedestal. I told her he would never fall for a big girl. Tears welled in her eyes. Defeated, she let me go in her place. It worked out perfectly for me. I dated Eric, married him, and became the envy of everyone we knew. But after the wedding, he grew cold. Distant. Guilt ate at me. I was a fraud, so I constantly needed proof that he actually loved me. I became suffocating. Tracking his phone, bombarding him with calls, threatening to jump off the roof if he came home ten minutes late. That was my normal. Seven years of that. He finally burned out. Even when I dragged a blade across my wrist, he barely blinked. He just calmly told his assistant to dial 911. When I looked at him with bloodshot eyes and whispered that I might actually die this time, he looked exhausted. “Do it,” he replied. “If you die, I can finally marry someone normal.” He didn’t know I actually meant it. I closed my eyes as the biting hum of an experimental psychiatric treatment took over my senses. I really did die. But when I opened my eyes again, I was sitting on my dorm bed. It was the exact day my roommate was supposed to meet him. I looked down at the expensive white dress she had bought for the occasion. I pulled it off and handed it back to her. “I’m not going.” 1 The rain was coming down in sheets. I remembered this weather from my past life. The wind had been howling. By the time I had rushed to the cafe, I was an hour late, and the white dress Diana had bought me was plastered to my skin. Eric hadn’t asked any questions. He just walked over and draped his warm jacket over my shivering shoulders. It wasn’t until the dessert arrived that I remembered to introduce myself. “I’m Josie.” That was the screen name Diana used. He had paused, then nodded. “I’m Eric.” I walked home that night wearing his jacket. Diana had noticed it immediately. She stared at the floor for a long time before asking in a small voice if he had been disappointed. “Not at all,” I had told her. “He really likes me.” I knew I was breaking her heart, but I was too thrilled to care. She had trusted me with her secret online romance. She had no idea I was obsessed with Eric, too. Besides, Diana had everything. A wealthy family, parents who adored her, an easy life. I had nothing. Why couldn’t she let me have this one thing? I used to envy her. I was jealous of her. But once I had Eric, all of that vanished. I thought we could finally be real friends. “You’re not going? But why?” Diana’s voice pulled me back to the present. Her eyes were red. “Sadie, are you mad at me? I’ll apologize, I swear. But the meetup is in an hour. I can’t go looking like this.” “Diana.” It was the first time I used her real name. I usually called her some teasing nickname about her weight. “Do you trust me?” “I do.” “Then go meet him yourself. He’ll like you. And even if there’s no spark, you guys will make great friends.” She sniffled, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “He won’t. He won’t like a girl who weighs a hundred and sixty pounds. You literally told me that last night.” I swallowed a heavy sigh. “He’s not that shallow. I know him.” “You know him? Since when do you know him?” Did I? We dated for three years and were married for seven. A whole decade. He never truly understood me, and looking back, I didn’t understand him either. The last thing he ever said to me was that he wished I were dead. I spent my whole life trying to prove his love, but in the end, the only thing I proved was his hatred for me. A deep, bone-chilling hatred. “Everyone knows him,” I lied smoothly. “Besides, you didn’t talk to him for months just to score a boyfriend, right?” Her cheeks flushed. “Well, it would be nice. It’s Eric we’re talking about.” Eventually, I talked her into it. She threw on her favorite oversized hoodie and sweatpants and headed out into the storm. I sat by the window, watching the rain. Would Eric like Diana? Probably. In my past life, I once overheard his friends asking about his ideal type. Lively, upbeat, emotionally stable, and above all, kind. “What about looks?” his friend had asked. “Looks don’t matter to me.” I had kicked the door open and demanded to know what he meant by that. He just looked at me with that dead, calm expression. “It means exactly what you think it means. I don’t love you. I could never love a lunatic like you.” I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze. The sky turned bruised and dark before the dorm door clicked open. Diana walked in. She was wearing Eric’s jacket. She sat down on the edge of my bed, staring blankly at the wall. “Sadie, I think he was really disappointed.” 2 I turned to look at her, genuinely surprised. Eric had manners practically coded into his DNA. He wasn’t the type to bank his entire love life on an internet stranger. Even if Diana wasn’t his usual type, he would never let his disappointment show. “Why would you say that? Are you overthinking it?” Diana threw her hands up, her dramatic flair returning. “I sat down and said, ‘Hey, I’m Josie.’ And he kept looking past me. Like he was waiting for some supermodel to walk through the door and say, ‘Just kidding, I’m the real Josie.’” “And then,” she continued, “he asked me like three times, ‘Are you really Josie? The one I’ve been talking to?’ He didn’t drop it until I literally pulled up our chat logs on my phone.” She slumped back against my pillows. “Men are all the same. Shallow. I’m officially giving up on the male species.” “Sadie, I wish I was as pretty as you,” she whimpered, resting her head on my shoulder. “I wish we could swap places. Just for one day.” I stared at the ceiling. She had no idea how much I used to wish the exact same thing. Diana only cried for one night. By the next morning, she was back to her usual self, eating pancakes and cracking jokes. My life slipped back into its familiar, exhausting routine. Classes, part-time jobs, sleep, repeat. “Sadie, sweetie, this is for you.” I had been tutoring for Sarah, a young single mom, for about a year. She was incredibly sweet. She handed me a paper bag. Inside was a thick winter coat and an envelope with a cash bonus. I looked down at my own jacket. The cuffs were frayed to threads. “Thank you, Sarah. You really didn’t have to.” I was packing my bag to leave when the doorbell rang. Sarah trotted over to answer it. “That must be my cousin,” she called over her shoulder. “She brought a friend from campus to fix my laptop.” I didn’t think much of it until the door opened. I looked up, and my eyes locked with a pair of startlingly familiar ones. “Do you guys know each other?” The girl standing next to Eric looked between us, tilting her head. “No.” “We don’t,” Eric said, cutting me off before I could finish my sentence. He was finally free of me. I should have been happy for him. Instead, a sharp, twisting pain flared in my chest. I kept my eyes glued to the floor and squeezed past him. The girl stepped aside to let me through. I knew her. Audrey. She was the daughter of Eric’s academic advisor. His favorite protégé. She was also the reason Eric had brought up divorce for the first time. He had been dead serious. He slid the papers across the kitchen counter. “You can keep everything. The house, the money. I just want out.” He was willing to walk away with nothing just to get away from me. Any sane woman would have taken the deal. But I wasn’t sane. “I’m not signing anything,” I had screamed at him. “If you try to leave me, I’ll kill myself.” He hadn’t even flinched. He just offered a bitter, hollow laugh. “I’ll make sure you get a beautiful funeral. And the day after, I’ll marry someone else.” I had gripped those divorce papers, marched out to the campus lake, and thrown myself in. I knew he wouldn’t let me die. Not in front of him. His moral compass, his family’s reputation. It forced his hand. He dove in and dragged me out. The divorce was never mentioned again. My phone buzzed, snapping me out of the memory. It was Diana. “Hey, I found that doctor you asked about. She’s a college friend of my mom’s. Super highly rated.” “Is she expensive?” “Nah, I told her you were my best friend. She’s giving us a massive discount.” I exhaled a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. In my past life, Eric constantly tried to drag me to a psychiatrist. Every time he brought it up, we ended up in a screaming match. It got so bad I once pulled a kitchen knife on him. I refused to go to a loony bin. That was where my mother died. My father had dragged her there himself. I was six years old when I watched them haul her away. She looked like a feral animal fighting for its life. The next time I saw her was two years later. I had sneaked onto the bus to visit her. A tired nurse walked me down a sterile, bleached hallway. “Is my mom in jail?” I had asked. The locked doors and heavy wire mesh looked like the prisons on TV. The nurse said no. She pointed into a bleak room. Huddled in the corner was a woman with completely white hair, rocking back and forth. “That’s your mother.” When my mom saw me, she reached out her bruised hands. I was so terrified I turned and ran. By the time I finally gathered the courage to go back, she was in a body bag. I knew I was sick. I had known it even when Eric tried to help me. I was just too terrified I would end up like her. But this time, I wanted to try. Diana had told me it was just an illness. You take your meds, you talk to someone, and you get better. I wanted to be normal. I wanted to be healthy. Maybe seeing Eric had triggered something, because that night, I dreamt of what happened after I died. Eric had moved out by then. He was renting an apartment right above Audrey’s. They were in the same major, working on the same projects. They always had something to talk about. Not like us. Every conversation we had felt like walking through a minefield. Audrey had probably never seen Eric lose his temper. Hell, even his own mother hadn’t seen the dark, explosive side of him that I brought out. In the dream, his phone rang. I had been dead for exactly a month. He didn’t even check the caller ID. He just answered with an exhausted sigh. “I thought you’d finally give it a rest. Obviously not.” “Look, I’m coming back tomorrow. Stop calling me. You’re giving me a headache.” “And what was all that poetic bullshit you texted me? ‘Setting you free?’ Did you watch a tragic movie and decide to play the victim again?” He always used his sharpest words on me. With Audrey, his voice was like velvet. The person on the other end finally spoke. “Eric? It’s Audrey. Were you talking to someone else?” Eric froze. He pulled the phone away, rubbed his temples, and let out a harsh breath. “Sorry. What’s up?” “I was wondering if you wanted to catch a movie tonight? I really want to see that new thriller, but I hate going alone.” “Let’s raincheck,” he said quietly. “I’m just really tired.” He hung up. Then he stared at his phone. It was the longest I had ever gone without contacting him since we started dating. Frowning, he grabbed his keys and drove back to our house. The place I had finally called home. But it was completely empty. I had cleared out. The only thing left on the kitchen island was the signed divorce papers. I hadn’t taken a single dime. That was the fate of a fraud. Kicked out with nothing. He tore through the house. I had even taken the potted basil and the little succulent we bought together. I didn’t want to, but he always hated taking care of plants. I knew they would die without me. Eric dialed my number. It rang out. He sent a voice note. “What kind of game is this? You actually signed the papers? You’re really letting me go?” “If you’re serious, come back tomorrow so we can finalize this at the courthouse. I don’t want you dragging this out and ruining my chances of moving on.” Silence. He sat heavily on the couch, glaring at the screen. Just as his thumb hovered over the record button again, the doorbell rang. A dark smirk crossed his face as he walked to the front door. “Could you be any more predictable? I barely hit send and you’re already back—” He pulled the door open. His smirk vanished. It wasn’t me. It was two police officers. “Is this the residence of Sadie Collins?” Eric’s jaw tightened. “What kind of stunt is she pulling now?” “Sir, we found a body.” 3 The color drained from Eric’s face instantly. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Finally, he whispered, “Sadie?” “Sadie.” “Sadie, wake up.” My eyes snapped open. Diana’s face was hovering inches from mine. “What are you doing?” I gasped. She tapped her phone screen. “Our appointment with Dr. Bennett. It’s today.” “Right.” I wiped the cold sweat from my forehead, sitting in stunned silence until my soul fully snapped back into my body. “You’re coming with me?” Diana was already doing her makeup in the mirror. “Obviously,” she said, popping her lips. “But don’t worry, I’ll wait in the lobby. Total privacy.” She held up a pair of massive headphones. “Active noise cancellation. I won’t hear a thing.” I grew up in a tiny, suffocating town where secrets didn’t exist. If someone lost a spoon, the whole neighborhood gossiped about it by Tuesday. Naturally, everyone knew my mother was a crazy woman. I spent eighteen years in that town. No one let their kids play with the crazy lady’s daughter. I hated them all. Diana was my first real friend. After college, she moved back to her hometown, and we drifted apart. I was too ashamed of my toxic life to keep in touch. When she mailed me a wedding invitation, I ghosted her. She had been hurt, but she still mailed me the bridesmaid gift. I remembered opening the box. There was a handwritten card inside. I hope Sadie is always happy. I had ripped it into pieces and thrown it in the trash. Eric had watched me do it, his eyes full of disbelief. “Why do you destroy everyone who tries to care about you?” “She’s not my friend,” I had spat back. “I don’t have friends.” Later that night, I caught him taping the shredded card back together. He left it on my desk. Ironically, when I packed up my life before I died, that taped-up card was the one thing I made sure to take with me. “Diana,” I said softly from the bed. “I’m sorry.” She walked over and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “Are you running a fever? What are you apologizing for?” I just shook my head. When we got to the clinic, the receptionist recognized Diana’s name and waved us right back to Dr. Bennett’s office. The door was cracked open. Diana, being Diana, immediately hunched over and peeked inside. I reached out to pull her back, but she gasped. “Is that Eric? What is he doing here?” I leaned in. Through the gap, I could see the sharp, familiar slope of his shoulders. “It’s him,” I breathed. “You sure?” Diana whispered. Then his low, strained voice drifted into the hallway. “If she has severe control issues… if she constantly lashes out, and sometimes hurts herself… what kind of medication does she need?” Dr. Bennett sighed. “Eric, I’ve told you. I cannot prescribe anything without evaluating the patient in person.” Eric slumped in his chair. He looked utterly defeated. “She won’t come.” The doctor gave him a sympathetic look. “Who is she to you?” Eric was quiet for a long time. “She’s my girlfriend.” Diana’s jaw dropped. She turned to me and mouthed, He has a girlfriend. The conversation wrapped up, and Eric stood to leave. I grabbed Diana by the sleeve and yanked her into the nearest stairwell. Through the heavy fire door window, I watched Eric walk past. The grief in his eyes was suffocating. Who was he talking about? Me? But he didn’t even know me in this timeline. Not really. “Come on,” I said, my voice shaking slightly. “It’s our turn.” Diana shoved me into the office and shut the door behind me. Dr. Bennett was warm. She promised today was just about getting to know each other, though we might eventually have to unpack some ugly boxes. By the time I walked out, it was past noon. Diana knew I was broke, so she dragged me back to the campus dining hall, insisting it was her treat. We had just sat down when my phone rang. It was my academic advisor. She demanded I come to the administration building immediately. “What’s wrong?” Diana asked, seeing my face drop. “I don’t know.” I rarely got called to the office, let alone with that kind of urgency. Diana grabbed my hand. “I’m coming with you. Don’t panic.” My anxiety spiked instantly. I was so used to waiting for the other shoe to drop. When we reached the office, the door was open. I heard a voice that made my blood run cold. “Look what she did to my husband! Do you have any idea how much this has cost our family? And she gets to sit pretty in a fancy university while he’s rotting in a bed!” The advisor was trying desperately to calm her down. Diana’s eyes went wide. “Are they talking about you?” 4 I let go of Diana’s hand and stepped into the room. There she was. Aunt Brenda. And lying in a specialized wheelchair next to her, completely paralyzed, was her husband. Uncle Richard. “Sadie, you’re here. What is the meaning of this?” My advisor rushed over, practically shielding me with her body. “She’s right about one thing,” I said, staring dead at Brenda. I couldn’t stop a dark, twisted smile from spreading across my face. “My only mistake was not hitting him hard enough to finish the job.” If only I hadn’t been half-starved back then. I would’ve had the strength to cave his skull in completely. My advisor grabbed my arm. “Sadie, what are you saying?” I turned to her, letting the tears fall right on cue. “I was thirteen years old. He—my uncle—tried to force himself on me.” Richard’s eyes bulged, bloodshot and manic. He couldn’t move anything below his neck, but his jaw worked furiously. Saliva sprayed from his lips as he made guttural, choking sounds, trying to deny it. “Are you running a school for criminals?” Brenda shrieked. “She’s a psycho! She tried to murder him!” “Who’s a murderer?” a voice cut in from the doorway. Eric stepped into the room. I had no idea how long he had been standing in the hall. He walked right up and stood beside me. His voice was steady and loud enough for everyone to hear. “I only see a brave girl who defended herself against a predator.”

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The night before our senior graduation trip, my roommate stole the secret gaming smurf I had been hiding for three years. Top 100 on the server. Every skin unlocked. An account that had solo-killed pro players three times during private scrimmages. And she was using it to flirt on voice chat until dawn. Using a voice filter. Sending my pictures. Spending my premium currency to buy matching couple skins. When I confronted her, she just laughed. “You aren’t going pro anyway. What’s the big deal if I borrow a stacked account for a bit?” Furious, I tried to change the password. That was when I realized the account was already bound to her phone number. The next day at the esports resort in Santa Monica, her name was plastered across the lobby’s giant screen right next to my ID, branded as an “Academy Team Prospect.” While I stood there paralyzed, glowing text suddenly floated across my vision in thin air. [Why is the side character throwing a tantrum over a smurf account?] [Tessa is finally taking back her rightful stage.] [Zane, hurry up and give your future wife that team jersey!] Zane? I stared at the name, stunned. Wasn’t that the hotshot mid-laner my boyfriend’s pro team had just signed? 1 I first realized my account had been compromised the night before the trip. Our dorm looked like a hurricane had ripped through a shipping center. Three suitcases lay open on the floor. Sunscreen, swimsuits, charging cables, and Polaroids were scattered everywhere. Tessa sat at her desk wearing a headset. Her shoulders shook with giggles. I didn’t pay it much attention until a text message popped up on my phone. [Your gaming account is being rebound to a new device in a different location. Please confirm if this is you.] My fingers froze. The account name was LunarNoCS. It was the smurf account I had kept hidden for three years. It had a gorgeous win rate, sat comfortably in the Top 100 Challenger tier, and had a maxed-out cosmetic inventory. More importantly, it was the account I used to secretly practice mid-lane match-ups to help my boyfriend, Kieran, with his training. Kieran was the captain of the Crown esports roster. He trained constantly, and I never wanted to hold him back. So I practiced behind his back, grinding game after game. Losing until my hands shook. Staying up until 3 AM. Waking up the next day to review my VODs and do it all over again. To me, it wasn’t just a burner account. It was the physical proof of every midnight loss and every hard-fought victory. I immediately opened the game client. Login failed. The screen read: [Account has been bound to a new phone number.] A loud ringing filled my ears. Following the sound of giggling, I walked up behind Tessa. On the spare tablet I usually let her use to watch Netflix, my account was logged in. I hadn’t signed out, and the backup email had still been linked. This wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment crime. She had been targeting my account for a while. Her party microphone was still open. She pitched her voice up into a sickly sweet tone. “Are you going to recognize me at the resort tomorrow?” A lazy male voice responded through her headset. “I’ll recognize you. It’d be pretty hard to forget a playstyle like Lunar’s.” Tessa smiled even sweeter. “Then you have to bring me a team jacket tomorrow, okay?” I reached out and ripped the headset off her ears. “Tessa.” She jumped, nearly knocking the tablet off the desk. “Are you crazy? Don’t sneak up on people.” I stared dead at her. “Why are you logged into my account?” Her eyes darted away for a second, but she quickly straightened her posture. “What’s wrong with borrowing it? It’s not like you’re doing anything useful with it.” I tapped the chat history on the screen. The most recent message was a photo she had sent. A girl in a white dress. A side profile. The beach. It was a picture Kieran had taken of me last summer. Below it was a text: [If you give me a hug tomorrow, I promise I won’t be nervous anymore.] I let out a harsh, disbelieving laugh. “You stole my account, stole my pictures, and you’re catfishing guys online?” Tessa lunged to grab the tablet back. “Don’t make it sound so ugly. It’s not catfishing. He’s a pro player. I just want to network with people in the industry.” I didn’t let go. I kept scrolling up. Matching skins. Flirty voice notes. Pentakill highlight reels I had edited myself. Screenshots of my practice match reviews. She had even sent a selfie of my wrist. The guy’s contact name was saved as [Zane]. My finger hovered over the screen. Zane. The star mid-laner Crown had just dropped a fortune to sign. Kieran had mentioned him to me just a few days ago. “The new kid is pretty arrogant,” Kieran had said while peeling an orange for me in his kitchen. “Stay away from him, babe.” I had teased him for being territorial. It wasn’t so funny anymore. Seeing me go quiet, Tessa seemed to gain confidence. “You already have Kieran. Do you really need to hoard this account too? I just want people to look at me for once. Don’t be so selfish, Luna.” I opened my mouth to tear into her. Suddenly, a line of glowing text drifted right across my line of sight. [Why is the female side character getting so mad? The female lead is just taking back her rightful stage early.] I froze. A second later, more text flooded my vision like a live-stream chat. [The Lunar account was always meant to make Tessa shine.] [Luna is so greedy. She already has a pro boyfriend and she still wants more?] [The identity reveal scene at the graduation trip is going to be epic!] I read the floating words, then looked back at Tessa. She was clutching the tablet, her face twisted in a mask of perfect victimhood. Like I was the one trying to ruin her life. I suddenly smiled. “Okay.” Tessa blinked, caught off guard. I slowly set the tablet back down on the desk. “The graduation trip is tomorrow. We’ll settle this face-to-face.” 2 Tessa’s face changed. “What is that supposed to mean?” I pulled out my own phone and started screen-recording the chat logs. “It means I’m going to sit back and watch exactly how you use my account to shine.” She lunged to snatch my phone, but I took a step back. Jenna popped her head over the edge of her top bunk, a sheet mask still plastered to her face. “Who’s shining? Did a lightbulb blow out?” Maddie walked out of the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of her mouth. “Are we fighting? Let me rinse first.” I turned the screen around for them to see. They read the logs in utter silence. Jenna slowly peeled off her sheet mask. “Tessa, did you steal Luna’s account?” Maddie swallowed hard. “And you’re using her pictures to hit on a pro player?” Tessa’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I wasn’t hitting on anyone. I just love esports so much. I’m not like Luna. Her boyfriend is a team captain. It’s so easy for her to get into the scene.” My voice dropped to ice. “When have I ever used Kieran to get into the scene?” Tessa bit her lip. “Haven’t you? Nobody even knows if you climbed to that rank yourself. Kieran probably duo-queued with you and boosted you the whole way up.” The dorm went dead silent. I stared her down. “Say that again.” Tessa acted like she had just stumbled onto the ultimate truth. “Am I wrong? How could a girl like you get such a high rank? Your boyfriend carries you every night. It’s totally normal.” The holographic comments spiked instantly. [The female lead speaks the truth!] [Luna is just a boosted e-girl. Why is she acting like a god?] [Once Tessa wins on stage tomorrow, Luna won’t have anything left to say.] A sharp ache pierced my chest. I could handle the stolen account. I could call the police over the stolen photos. But casually writing off three years of my blood, sweat, and tears as a man carrying me to the top? That was sicker than stealing. I walked right up to her, forcing her to look up at me. “Tessa, you can steal my login credentials. But you can’t steal my mechanics. The game won’t play itself for you.” Her face went pale. I kept going. “You already signed up for the campus showmatch tomorrow, didn’t you?” Panic flashed in her eyes. I opened our college group chat. Sure enough, she had posted a message half an hour ago. Tessa: [I’ll be playing on my main account to carry everyone to the championship at the showmatch tomorrow night.] Someone had asked: [What’s your main?] Tessa: [LunarNoCS.] A string of shocked emojis followed. [Holy shit, the Top 100 account?] [Tessa, you’ve been hiding this?] [Carry us tomorrow!] She had even replied with a bashful smiley face. I shoved my phone in her face. “You claimed my ID. So tomorrow, you better back it up with raw skill.” She shrank back. “Don’t push me.” I laughed. “Weren’t you the one who stole it?” Tessa looked up, her eyes completely bloodshot now. “Luna, if you’re really that good, just go grind a new account. This one is in my hands now. Whoever’s name is on it, owns it.” I nodded slowly. “Remember you said that.” The floating text was still scrolling by. [The side character is so aggressive.] [Tessa just wants to be noticed, what did she do wrong?] [Tomorrow Zane is going to personally welcome Tessa. Luna is going to get humbled so hard.] I let out a cold laugh. We would see exactly who was getting humbled tomorrow. 3 The next morning, we boarded the charter bus to Santa Monica. The graduation trip was a three-day, two-night event organized by the college. Beach bonding, an esports-themed resort, and a massive collegiate showmatch. It sounded like paradise. If Tessa wasn’t glaring daggers at me the entire ride, my happiness would have easily doubled. She obviously hadn’t slept. Even heavy concealer couldn’t hide her dark circles. I, on the other hand, had slept beautifully. Even though the phone number had been changed, I had already contacted customer support and submitted my ID and three years of purchase receipts. It just needed time to process. Tessa thought I was powerless. She spent the entire bus ride furiously typing on her phone. I didn’t even have to look to know she was continuing her little charade with Zane. Halfway through the drive, Kieran texted me. [On the bus?] [Yeah.] He replied instantly. [Getting motion sick?] [No.] Kieran: [Then are you thinking about me?] I couldn’t help but smile. [Doesn’t Captain Kieran have practice today?] He sent a photo of the team’s training room. Half an iced Americano sat next to his mechanical keyboard. His hand rested on the edge of the desk, veins tracing over his knuckles. [Five-minute break. Specifically to think about you.] My ears grew hot. Just as I was about to type a reply, Tessa’s snide voice drifted over. “Must be nice having a pro boyfriend. Checking up on you even on a graduation trip.” Jenna rolled her eyes. “You can just ask your Zane to check up on you.” Maddie didn’t miss a beat. “Assuming he can even recognize you.” Tessa’s expression soured. My phone buzzed again. A new friend request. The note read: [Zane.] I narrowed my eyes and accepted it. His first message popped up. [See you tonight?] I didn’t reply. He sent another. [Or should I call you Lunar?] My stomach dropped. I took a screenshot and forwarded it straight to Kieran. Kieran’s side went dead quiet for three seconds. Then my screen flashed with an incoming video call. I answered it. His striking, stoic face filled the screen. “Babe.” “Yeah?” He enunciated every single word. “Zane. Added. You?” Seeing his face practically smoking with jealousy instantly lifted my mood. “Yep.” He took a deep breath. “Ignore him.” I rested my chin in my hand. “But the floating text says he’s going to get me into the academy team.” Kieran frowned. “What floating text?” I paused. Right. He couldn’t see the magical novel comments. The text started flying across my vision again. [The captain is so salty.] [But Zane is the official male lead!] [Wait a minute, Kieran’s face is honestly so much better looking though?] Reading the comments, I suddenly felt a surge of confidence. The so-called plot didn’t seem entirely unbreakable. 4 We arrived at the resort right at four in the afternoon. The lobby of the esports hotel was massive, lined with rows of high-end gaming rigs. Neon signs bathed the room in a sharp, electric glow. A giant LED screen in the center of the room displayed the roster for tonight’s showmatch. I looked up and saw it immediately. [Special Guest: Tessa] [In-Game ID: LunarNoCS] [Role: Genius Female Mid-Laner] I stopped in my tracks. Jenna sucked in a breath. “She has zero shame.” Maddie muttered a colorful curse. Tessa acted like she couldn’t hear us. She had deliberately worn the white sun-jacket from my photos. She even had the exact same hair tie on her wrist. An event coordinator jogged over with a bright smile. “You must be Tessa. Zane is already here. He gave you a glowing recommendation to the team manager. Pass the verification match tonight, and you’ll officially secure an academy scouting trial.” The crowd of students around us immediately exploded. “Zane? Crown’s new mid-laner?” “Tessa is actually LunarNoCS?” “An academy trial? She already has one foot in the pro scene!” The coordinator hung a VIP lanyard around Tessa’s neck. It read: [LunarNoCS – Crown Academy Prospect]. Tessa looked down, tracing the plastic badge with her fingers. Then she looked up at me, keeping her voice low. “Look at this, Luna. Sometimes if you’re a step too slow, what’s yours becomes someone else’s.” I pulled out my phone, intending to log in and prove her wrong on the spot. But the app flashed a system warning. [Account is currently under security lockdown. Login disabled.] Tessa’s smile widened. “Don’t bother. I already submitted the supplementary security forms. Whoever this account is registered to is the real Lunar.” My grip on my phone tightened. People in the lobby were starting to call out to her. “Lunar, you better carry us later!” “Tessa, how did you keep this a secret for so long?” “Top 100 mid-laner! Absolute legend!” With every cheer, a heavy weight sank deeper into my chest. I was standing right here, watching someone else slowly erase my name from the scoreboard. Footsteps echoed from the lobby entrance. A group of guys in black esports jerseys walked in. The guy at the front was tall, his jacket unzipped, his eyes lazy and arrogant. The silver Crown logo gleamed on his chest. It was Zane. He was holding a spare team jersey in his hand, walking straight toward Tessa. Tessa’s eyes lit up. “Zane…” The cheering from the crowd nearly took the roof off. The holographic comments were going completely insane. [Here it comes! The female lead’s golden moment!] [A pro player personally handing over his jacket, I’m screaming.] [Luna must be dying of jealousy right now hahaha.] Zane stopped right in front of Tessa. He looked down at her. A second later, he smirked. “Lunar?” Tessa blushed deeply and nodded. “Yeah, it’s me.” Zane extended the team jersey to her. Tessa reached her hands out. My phone screen was still locked on the failed login prompt. Everyone around us was chanting her fake name. Just as her fingertips brushed the fabric of the jersey, a voice sliced through the noise. It was cold, heavy, and absolutely furious. “Who gave you permission to touch that?” 5 I spun around. Kieran was standing by the entrance, a heavy duffel bag in his hand. His baseball cap was pulled low over his eyes. His black jacket was wrinkled from travel, the zipper totally misaligned. It looked like he had bolted straight from the training room and rushed all the way here. He walked past everyone and stopped right beside me. He shoved a warm cup of milk tea into my hands. “It’s hot,” he murmured. I took it, completely stunned. Only then did he lift his gaze to the giant screen. “LunarNoCS. Tessa?” He let out a low, dark laugh. It wasn’t loud, but it silenced the entire lobby. “That ID has been burned into my memory for three years.” He locked eyes with Tessa. His stare was as lethal as a grand finals match point. “Of all the people you could have impersonated, you chose my girlfriend?” Dead silence. Tessa’s hand froze in midair. Zane raised an eyebrow. “Captain, you’ve been hiding her well.” Kieran ignored him. He looked down at me. “She still has the account?” I nodded. His expression turned glacial. Tessa finally snapped out of it. The tears arrived instantly. “Kieran, you can’t just help her steal my account just because she’s your girlfriend.” Whispers broke out across the crowd. “Wait, who’s the real one?” “Tessa can log into the account, so it must be hers, right?” “But the captain literally just said it’s his girlfriend’s.” Tessa cried harder, looking like the ultimate victim. “Luna, isn’t having Kieran enough for you? Why do you have to steal my only opportunity?” The floating comments rushed to her defense. [The female lead is so pitiful.] [Boosted e-girls always act so entitled.] [Tessa literally has the account on her phone. What proof does Luna have?] Before I could say a word, Kieran smiled. He had a beautiful smile. But anyone who knew him understood one thing: the brighter he smiled, the more dangerous he was. “You can rebind a phone number,” Kieran said smoothly. “You can’t rebind raw mechanics.” He glanced over at Zane. “Haven’t you been trying to track Lunar down for six months?” Zane lazily pulled the jersey back. “Yeah.” He looked at Tessa, the amusement in his eyes fading slightly. “She solo-killed me three times in a private server. I’ve been holding a grudge ever since.” Tessa’s face drained of color. “I’m… I’m not feeling well today.” I stared at her. “That’s okay. You were feeling fine when you stole my login.” Maddie let out a loud snort. Jenna started slow-clapping. The event coordinator realized things were spiraling and quickly changed the rules. Instead of a casual showmatch, they set up an identity verification duel. A 1v1 solo lane. Tessa on her so-called “LunarNoCS” account. Me on a brand-new tournament client. Zane would referee. Kieran stood directly behind my gaming chair. He leaned down. “Nervous?” I shook my head. “Not at all.” He chuckled softly. “Good. To crush her? It’s more than enough.” I placed my fingers on the keyboard. In that moment, all the frustration and injustice vanished. I just wanted to teach Tessa a lesson. You can steal an account. You can buy skins. You can steal photos. But you cannot steal the muscle memory someone carved into their hands night after grueling night. 6 Tessa locked in an execution-heavy assassin. She had clearly memorized my match history and knew I played that champion often. But picking the champion doesn’t mean you know how to play them. I locked in an aggressive, lane-bully mage. The moment the game loaded, a massive crowd gathered behind our monitors. Tessa’s hands were visibly shaking. Level one, she missed her first minion. Then she missed her second. The guys watching behind us started muttering. “A Top 100 player missing basic CS like that? Kind of tragic.” Tessa’s face tightened. She suddenly looked up at the coordinator, her eyes glassy. “I’m really nervous. Can I use my own headphones? The crowd is too loud.” The coordinator opened his mouth to object, but someone in the crowd defended her. “She’s being forced to prove herself on the spot, obviously she’s nervous. It’s just headphones, not an aimbot.” Tessa immediately slipped her own noise-canceling headset over her ears. My brow twitched. Level two. I heard a very faint male voice bleeding from her headset. “Play patient. Go in for a trade at level two.” I heard it. Kieran heard it, too. His eyes instantly darkened. I didn’t call it out. She wanted to put on a show? I would let her perform. Following the voice, she pushed forward to pressure me. I took a deliberate half-step back. Thinking I was scared, she blew all her cooldowns at once. A second later, I turned, dodged, and locked her down. Auto-attack. Ignite. Wave management. First blood. The entire room let out a collective “Whoa.” Tessa went totally pale. The voice leaking from her headset sounded panicked now. “Why didn’t you dodge?” Tessa hissed under her breath. “How was I supposed to know her burst was that high?” I tapped my keyboard lightly. “Tessa.” She looked up at me. I gave her a tight smile. “A booster can talk you through it. But your hand is still the one on the mouse.” The holographic chat froze for a split second. Then it exploded. [She hired an Elo-booster?!] [Wait, the female lead is a fraud?] [Hold up, how did Luna even hear that?] Zane walked over, grabbed Tessa’s headset, and pulled it off her head. A frantic male voice echoed loudly out of the earpieces. “Hello? Can you hear me? Stop going in by yourself—” Dead silence in the lobby. The last ounce of color vanished from Tessa’s face. “Pause the match,” Kieran commanded. He looked at the coordinator. “Do we really need to keep verifying?” 7 The staff confiscated Tessa’s tablet and headset. They quickly pulled up the backend logs. She hadn’t just stolen my account. She had contacted an Elo-booster in advance, paying him to remotely dictate her every move during the showmatch. The chat logs were explicitly clear. [As long as I survive the verification duel tonight, I’ll get the Crown Academy tryout.] [Luna won’t do anything about the account anyway. She doesn’t have the guts to make a scene.] The lobby broke out in an uproar. Tessa sobbed, gasping for air. “I just wanted to prove myself so badly!” Jenna scoffed. “Prove that you don’t know how to last-hit a minion?” Maddie twisted the knife. “You suck at the game, and you suck at being a decent person.” Tessa buried her face in her hands. “You’re all bullying me.” I stared at her. “Tessa, you didn’t want to prove yourself. You just wanted to rip off someone else’s hard work and wear it as your own.” She snapped her head up, her eyes venomous. “Luna, stop acting so holy. Who knows if your account is even legit? Everyone knows Kieran probably boosted you.” The room went quiet again. It was the last bucket of dirty water she had left to throw. And the most disgusting one. Some people in the crowd started to murmur in agreement. “I mean, it’s not impossible…” “She’s the captain’s girlfriend. Getting carried by a pro is pretty standard.” “The stats on that account are insanely high for a normal player.” The floating comments flared back to life. [Exactly! Why does Luna get a free pass?] [Tessa was wrong to steal, but Luna isn’t necessarily innocent either.] [Boosted e-girls getting carried by their boyfriends happens all the time.] My hands curled into tight fists. Kieran took a breath to speak, but I stopped him. “Don’t talk for me.” He looked down at me, pausing. I turned to the coordinator. “Aren’t you missing a mid-laner for the main event tomorrow?” The coordinator blinked. “I’ll play,” I said. “Kieran won’t shot-call. He won’t be on stage. He won’t even touch a headset.” I looked right at Tessa. “You think I got carried? Then I’ll let everyone watch. Let’s see if I actually know how to play.” 8 After the scene in the lobby, our college counselor arrived. Tessa was dragged into a conference room. I thought she would finally shut up. But at ten o’clock that night, she posted a massive essay on the campus forum and the college gaming boards. The headline was glaring: [I admit I borrowed an account, but Luna is no saint either.] It was a mix of half-truths and lies. She admitted to logging in, but claimed I had offered to let her borrow it. She wrote: [Luna always portrays herself as this gaming god, but her boyfriend is the captain of Crown. We all know how she really got those ranks.] [I’m just a normal girl with no connections, so they teamed up to bully me.] The comment section exploded. [Playing the victim after stealing an account?] [But honestly, a pro player’s girlfriend being boosted is totally believable.] [We’ll see at the showmatch tomorrow. She’ll get exposed if she sucks.] [Pro groupies need to stay out of the scene.] I stared at the screen, a heavy weight pressing down on my chest. I didn’t want to cry when my account was stolen. I didn’t want to cry when the login was changed. But seeing words like “boosted,” “carried,” and “groupie” made my eyes burn. All those nights I stayed up grinding match-ups. All those early mornings where my hands cramped but I refused to log off. Reduced to nothing but a byproduct of a man’s success. When Kieran knocked on my hotel door, I was sitting on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the wall. He was holding a plastic bag filled with throat lozenges, eye drops, chocolate, and a bottle of warm milk. He set the bag down and crouched in front of me. “You upset?” I looked away. “No.” He didn’t call my bluff. He just reached out and gently brushed his fingers against mine. “Luna.” “Yeah?” “I won’t say a single word tomorrow.” I looked back at him, surprised. His eyes were deeply serious. “I’ll sit at the caster’s desk,” he said softly. “You play your own game. They say you rely on me? Then you beat them so badly they never open their mouths again.” My nose stung. “What if I play badly?” Kieran smiled faintly. “Then it doesn’t matter. But I know you won’t.” He paused, his voice dropping to a gentle murmur. “I believe in you more than you believe in yourself.” The floating comments went dead quiet for a few seconds before a wave of text rolled through. [Wait, I’m actually crying.] [He doesn’t want to win for her. He wants to watch her win for herself.] [Who said he was just blindly obsessed with her? He knows exactly how to love her.] I looked down, finally letting a real smile break through. “Then tomorrow,” I whispered. “You just wait for me to win.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “464460”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

While watching my older brother play basketball, I shot a quick text to my online boyfriend. “Babe, I’m at a game right now.” “No way. Me too, beautiful.” “Really?! Then good luck out there!!” A few minutes later, my brother’s team was getting boxed out by the rival squad. The score was painfully tight. I jumped out of the bleachers, cupping my hands around my mouth. “Go babe! You’re the absolute best!!” Thud. The moment the words left my mouth, the rival team’s captain dropped his basketball right onto the hardwood. 1 “Yes! We got it!!” Final minute on the clock. My brother sank a clean three-pointer, completely flipping the score and securing the championship title. I practically vibrated with excitement, jumping up and down in the stands and waving frantically at him. “Reginald! You were incredible!” “What are you doing here?” My brother grabbed the water bottle I held out to him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his jersey. I told him I had just gone to the campus bookstore to print some syllabi. On my way back, I heard the squeak of sneakers and the buzzer from the court. He had texted me about the finals earlier this week. I remembered, so I took a detour to watch. His teammates started trickling toward the sidelines to hydrate. When they saw me, their eyes went wide. “Pierce! Since when do you have a gorgeous girl hanging around?” “Back off.” Reginald shot his teammate a lethal, warning glare. The guys just laughed it off, though their eyes kept drifting toward me with blatant curiosity. I couldn’t exactly blame them. I was a brand-new freshman. Reginald was a grad student. He had gotten early admission to his master’s program, locked himself in a lab for a major physics project, and hadn’t been home in half a year. He wasn’t even there when I took my finals or applied for colleges. By the time I got accepted into his university, he had essentially moved me into my dorm on day one, patted my head, and vanished back into his laboratory. This was the very first time I was officially standing in front of his friends. “Hi everyone. I’m Harper.” I offered them a polite smile. I was just about to add that I was Reginald’s little sister, but he cut me off entirely. “Alright, show’s over. Head back to your dorm. Text me if you need anything.” He snatched my tote bag off the floor and handed it to me. He stood tall, deliberately blocking his teammates’ line of sight like he was shielding me from a pack of wolves. I blinked, totally lost, but nodded obediently. Whatever. The game was over anyway. I needed to get back to my room and text my boyfriend. I wondered how his game went. “Oh, right. Reginald, that three-pointer was insane. I got it on video. I’ll send it to you later,” I bragged. A highlight reel like that deserved to be immortalized. Reginald’s face softened into an exasperated smile, and he waved me off. I turned on my heel to leave. And immediately slammed face-first into a solid wall of a chest. Smack. “Ow!” My phone slipped from my grip and clattered onto the polished wood floor. I froze in a panic, dropping to my knees to grab it. Before I could even look up to see who I had hit, Reginald’s entire demeanor shifted. He took a sharp, aggressive step forward. “Brooks, what is your problem?!” 2 “She bumped into me.” The voice was cold, flat, and completely devoid of emotion. It felt like a layer of frost settling over my skin. I couldn’t help but shrink back a little as I finally looked at the guy. I recognized him, but I didn’t actually know him. He was the rival captain Reginald had just gone head-to-head with. The same guy who nearly crushed my brother’s team a few minutes ago. “Why the hell were you standing right behind her blocking the way? Apologize to her!” “You’re out of your mind, Pierce.” Maybe the adrenaline from the court hadn’t worn off yet. Reginald’s voice dropped to a dangerous octave. The way he was looking at this guy was entirely different from his usual teasing arrogance. He pulled me behind his back, glaring holes into the other captain. But the other guy wasn’t backing down either. Neither of them gave an inch. The air between them felt thick enough to spark a fire. Seeing the situation escalating purely because of my clumsiness, I tugged anxiously at the hem of Reginald’s jersey. “Reginald, stop. It was my fault. I wasn’t looking.” I had just started college. The last thing I wanted was my brother getting into a fistfight on my account. Reginald set his jaw, turning his back to the guy to look down at me. “Just go back to the dorm. It’s fine.” “Don’t start a fight.” “I won’t.” I gripped the straps of my tote bag tight. I nervously peeked over Reginald’s shoulder at the rival captain. He was already looking at me. His gaze was dark, heavy, and razor-sharp. It was terrifying. It felt like he was trying to nail me to the floor with his eyes alone. I didn’t dare stay a second longer. I mumbled a quick apology to the air and practically sprinted out of the gym. 3 Nope. Absolutely not. I had to tell my boyfriend about this immediately. That guy was a nightmare. The second I unlocked my dorm room door, I pulled up my messages with Ro. “Babe, are you there? I just got so scared.” While I waited for his reply, my roommates filtered in from their afternoon classes. Someone asked if I had actually gone to watch the basketball finals. “Yeah.” “How was it? Which of the Twin Stars won?” I blinked. “Twin Stars?” My roommate stared at me like I had just admitted I didn’t know how to read. “Professor Harris’s golden boys! The physics department prodigies!” Professor Harris was an absolute titan in the academic world. His standards for taking on mentees were notoriously brutal. Because he was retiring in a few years, he had stopped accepting new students entirely. But this year, he made an unprecedented exception and took on two final graduates. He publicly stated they were the brightest rising stars the physics department had ever seen. Before they even officially joined his lab, they had represented the university in an international physics decathlon and brought home gold. The university had their faces plastered on the website’s homepage for an entire month. My roommate pulled up the university’s unofficial Instagram gossip page, scrolling to the paparazzi-style photos the campus admins had posted of the two of them. I took one look. Wait, isn’t that Reginald? He was that much of a big deal? A wave of intense, unbothered pride washed over me. My mood instantly skyrocketed. “Oh. My brother won.” “Your brother?” “Yeah. This guy. He’s my brother.” I pointed proudly at Reginald’s photo on the screen. The dorm went dead silent for a solid five seconds. Then, they burst into laughter. “Harper, stop messing around. How could Reginald Pierce be your brother?” “Exactly. You guys have totally different last names. You don’t even look alike.” I sighed. I knew this was coming. I had heard this exact script hundreds of times since I was a kid. But this time, I came prepared. “Look. Here’s our official family registry, and here’s a family portrait from last Christmas.” I pulled out my phone and swiped to my favorites album, holding it up with a smug grin. My roommates’ jaws hit the floor. I kept going. “I took my mom’s maiden name, Sullivan. He took my dad’s last name, Pierce.” As for not looking alike. That was just genetics. But if you looked really, really closely at our eyes, you could see the resemblance. A moment later, a collective shriek echoed through the dorm. “Oh my god! Reginald is actually your brother?!” “Yep.” They would have met him on move-in day, but he was in such a rush to get back to the lab that he literally dropped my boxes in the lobby and sprinted away. 4 My roommates couldn’t hide their excitement. They practically begged me to introduce them the next time I saw him. They wanted to breathe the same air as a certified campus legend. I agreed easily. No big deal. Then someone asked another question. “What about the other one? Your brother works in the same lab as him. Do you know him too?” “Who?” “This guy.” My roommate swiped to the next photo. She told me this was the other “Star.” I looked down. Wasn’t this the guy I literally just crashed into?! Judging by the photo, it was taken during halftime. He was sitting on the bench, a white towel draped around his neck. Black and white jersey, dark hair pushed back with a sweatband. He was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees, staring down at his phone like he was texting someone. Whoever took this photo deserved a Pulitzer. How did they manage to make a guy with a death glare look like the brooding male lead of a coming-of-age movie? It was the most liked photo on the entire campus page. Mostly because the guy was looking down at his screen with a faint, barely-there smile. What was he smiling at? I had only seen him look like he wanted to commit a felony. “I don’t know him,” I said, shaking my head. My roommates looked a little disappointed and were about to pivot to a new piece of gossip when my phone buzzed on my desk. My boyfriend finally texted back!!! 5 “Hold on, I have to reply to this.” I tuned out my roommates’ chatter and unlocked my screen. Ro: “Beautiful. I just got out of the shower. What happened?” I originally wanted to vent about the terrifying guy at the basketball court. But after the whole conversation with my roommates, the incident didn’t feel like a big deal anymore. “Nothing, babe. Just missed you. How was your game?” The typing bubble popped up. He went quiet for a full minute before sending a single word. “Lost.” Oh no. He must be crushed. My heart squeezed. My fingers flew across the keyboard trying to comfort him. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” “We’ll get them next time.” “It was just a bad matchup.” “In my heart, you’re always the MVP anyway.” I fired off four or five texts in a row. Sensing my panic, he sent back a cute sticker of a cat patting another cat’s head. “It’s probably because I didn’t have you in the bleachers cheering for me.” “The other team had a lot of girls screaming for them today.” Oh, so that was it. I spammed him with a dozen heart-eyed stickers. He went quiet again. But I could see the typing indicator flashing on and off at the top of the screen. He was hesitating. “Babe, do you want to say something?” “Can you send me a picture of yourself?” Huh? Ro: “I just really want to know what you look like right now.” Ro and I met online right before my final high school exams. I had been so anxious that I posted a thread on a college forum asking for study tips and survival guides. He had left a massive, incredibly detailed comment breaking down everything I needed to know. At the very end of his essay, he wrote: “It’s just one normal test. You’ll face a million other tests in your life. Take a deep breath.” When my scores came out, I realized I had enough points to get into Reginald’s university. I went back to the forum specifically to thank him. We kept talking. Eventually, it turned into something real. We had planned to meet up in person. But moving to a new state and dealing with freshman orientation had kept me too busy. The meetup kept getting pushed back. “Sure.” Before we started dating, I had actually dared him to send a picture first. “Let me see those abs.” He had just gotten out of the shower back then, too. Surprisingly, he actually listened. He sent a mirror selfie that completely rewired my brain chemistry. That photo was honestly fifty percent of the reason I flirted so aggressively until he agreed to be my boyfriend. I had wanted to send him a picture of myself back then, but he never asked, and I didn’t want to seem desperate. Luckily, I loved taking photos, so I had a massive backlog of great ones. Without overthinking it, I scrolled through my camera roll and picked a candid I took right before the basketball game today. “Here’s my OOTD for today.” 6 Honestly, my heart was hammering against my ribs. I stared at the screen, waiting in pure agony for his reply. But he didn’t say anything. What was happening? Did he think I was ugly? No way. My mom used to put me in child modeling catalogs. In high school, a talent scout literally tried to stop me at the mall. Plus, my selfie lighting was immaculate. There was no way I looked bad enough to render him speechless. “Why aren’t you saying anything?” “Am I ugly?” I frowned at my phone. Please don’t let this be a disaster. We were supposed to meet up in person soon. I hadn’t even touched those abs yet! I was instantly regretting sending the photo. Then his text came through. “No. You’re beautiful.” “Really? Swear to god.” “I swear.” Thank god. I let out a massive sigh of relief. But the typing indicator popped up again. He clearly wanted to say something else. I waited. And waited. Nothing came through. I didn’t have time to overthink it because my roommates had finally caught on to my giggling. They swarmed my desk. “Harper Sullivan! Fess up right now. Who are you texting?!” “Is that a boyfriend?!” 7 After classes the next day, Reginald texted me to meet him at the graduate dining hall for dinner. “How are classes? Are you adjusting to the dorm? Are your roommates crazy?” He sounded like a stressed-out soccer mom. I nodded along to his interrogation while staring down at the sautéed beef liver on my cafeteria tray. I cringed. I picked up my fork and immediately started shoving every single piece of liver onto Reginald’s plate. “What are you doing? Put that back.” “I hate the texture.” “Tough. You have anemia. You are not skipping your iron.” Reginald’s voice dropped into his serious, authoritative tone. I had no idea who he learned that terrifying glare from, but I had been scared of him since we were kids. Whenever his face went blank like that, I lost all my nerve. I pouted dramatically. Slowly, miserably, I moved the liver back to my plate and started chewing it like it was cardboard. Reginald watched me suffer for a minute before sighing. He stood up to go buy me a juice to wash it down. The second he walked away, Ro texted me. “What are you doing, beautiful?” “Eating. Beef liver is a crime against humanity.” I snapped a tragic photo of my food and sent it to him. “If you hate it, don’t eat it.” “I can’t…” I was just about to explain that I was anemic and my family treated my diet like a military operation, but Reginald returned with a bottle of apple juice. “Who are you texting?” That was fast. I nearly jumped out of my skin. I definitely couldn’t let my overprotective brother know I had a secret internet boyfriend. “Nobody. Just a girl from my dorm.” Reginald didn’t push it. He handed me the juice. “Wash it down. Focus on your food.” “Fine.” I shoveled rice into my mouth. Looking at how casually Reginald was eating, I carefully plotted my next move. “Hey, Reginald. Can you transfer me some cash?” “Didn’t I just send you your allowance last week?” “I had to buy textbooks and dorm stuff. It vanished.” I gave him my absolute best puppy-dog eyes. Reginald sighed heavily and pulled out his phone. “Sent.” I eagerly opened my banking app. “Thank you—wait, why is it so low?” He usually sent me a thousand. This time, it was barely a hundred. “You blow through money too fast. You need to learn how to budget.” I glared at him. “Do you want it or not? If not, send it back.” “I want it, I want it.” Even pocket change was better than nothing. I smiled sweetly and accepted the transfer. Reginald finished his meal and stood up. “I have to get back to the lab to check on a simulation. Finish your food before you leave.” “Got it.” Once Reginald walked away, I lost all motivation to finish the liver. I poked at my rice with my fork. That was when I noticed a guy sitting a few tables behind where Reginald had been sitting. Wait. Wasn’t that the terrifying guy from the gym? He ate here too? Since when? I hadn’t even noticed him sitting there. Curiosity got the better of me, and I stared at Henry Brooks for a few seconds too long. Maybe he felt me looking, because those icy, razor-sharp eyes snapped over to mine. He didn’t say a word. He just picked up his tray and walked right past my table toward the exit. What the hell? I apologized to him yesterday, didn’t I? Why was he still looking at me like I owed him blood money? I shook it off, headed back to my dorm, and texted Ro again. “Babe, did you eat yet?” “Yeah. Just finished.” Then another text popped up. “Do you need money right now?” Huh? What did he mean? Before I could even process the question, a transfer notification hit my screen. [Incoming Transfer: $5,000.00] I sucked in a sharp breath. “Why did you just send me this?!” “For you to spend.” “I have money.” My parents and Reginald already gave me an allowance. My savings account was completely fine. I was just typing out that I didn’t need it, but his next text stopped me in my tracks. “Keep it. It’s a gift. You don’t need to send it back.” “Spending money on my girl is exactly what I’m supposed to do.” My face flushed hot. I couldn’t stop grinning. I slapped my own cheeks to calm down. Fine. I’ll keep it. 8 The next few weeks fell into a totally normal college routine. When I struggled with an assignment, I went to find Reginald. My texting routine with Ro stayed exactly the same as before. The only stressful part was that Reginald took my parents’ orders way too seriously. He insisted on monitoring my dinners. Because of that, there were multiple times Ro would text me right while I was eating with my brother, nearly exposing my entire secret life. Aside from that, I started running into Henry Brooks constantly. In the dining hall, outside the science building, crossing the quad. Obviously, he worked in the same lab as Reginald. Bumping into him wasn’t entirely unnatural. But I had heard rumors from the upperclassmen. Apparently, Reginald and Henry despised each other. If you walked past their lab, you could regularly hear them arguing. “Are they, like, mortal enemies?” I asked a senior in my dorm. “It’s not that deep. It’s physics. Friction creates progress.” Right. That explained why every time I caught Henry looking at Reginald, his eyes were practically shooting lightning bolts. I didn’t think much of it. Until one evening. I had just finished dinner and was lounging in the dorm when my roommate suddenly sat bolt upright in her bed. “Holy crap. You guys, you have to read what just got posted on the campus confessions page!” She dropped a link into our group chat. [Anonymous Confession: What do I do if I found out the girl I like has another boyfriend?] “Another boyfriend? What is this drama? Read it!” The comments on the post were already exploding. The anonymous poster explained that he was planning to meet up with his girlfriend in person soon, but he just discovered she was secretly involved with another guy on campus. [Bro, you’re the side piece!] read the top comment. OP replied: [Shut up. The one who isn’t loved is the side piece.] OP updated again: [I’ve been watching them for days. That guy doesn’t even care about her. He forces her to eat food she hates, he refuses to give her enough money, and he snaps at her all the time.] [It breaks my heart. How do I get her to break up with him?] The replies were pure chaos. Everyone loved a good trainwreck. My roommates were scrolling through the thread like it was a reality TV finale, reading the funniest comments out loud. I couldn’t have cared less. It wasn’t nearly as interesting as Ro’s abs. “This is totally fake for attention,” I said, flipping a page in my textbook. “Who knows? But look at everyone egging him on. This is hilarious.” It really was. People were hyping the OP up, telling him to steal the girl and save her from the toxic boyfriend. My roommate even left a comment telling him to go for it. The craziest part was that the OP actually listened. [Thanks for the support, everyone. I’ve made up my mind. I’m making my move tomorrow.] My roommates howled with laughter. “I can’t believe guys like this actually exist at our school. He’s weaponizing the comments section to steal someone’s girl.” I shrugged. Not my circus, not my monkeys. 9 The next day was Saturday. I went to the library to study. I was trying to grab a reference book off a high shelf, but someone had taken the step stool. I was on my tiptoes, stretching as far as I could, but my fingers kept slipping off the spine. Suddenly, a hand reached over my shoulder and pulled the book down. “Here.” I nearly jumped out of my skin. I spun around and froze. Henry Brooks? What was he doing here? Seeing me paralyzed, he held the book out a little further. “Is this the one you needed?” “…Yes. Thanks.” I grabbed the book and practically bolted to an empty desk. I pulled out my laptop, but when I looked up, Henry was pulling out the chair directly across from me. He sat down. What the hell? Didn’t grad students have private study lounges? Why was he sitting in the general undergrad section? I was confused, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I quickly shot a text to Ro telling him I was at the library, then buried my face in my textbook. When I glanced up a few minutes later, I noticed the guy across from me was typing rapidly on his phone. Oh. He had someone to report to, too? I found that mildly amusing. My phone lit up. Ro: “Good girl. I’m reading right now too.” A massive grin spread across my face. We were so perfectly in sync. But my good mood didn’t last long. Things started getting weird. For the next few days, if I went to the track to run, I ran into Henry. If I went to play tennis, I ran into Henry. I even saw him at the campus swimming pool. Seriously? My brother was practically chained to his desk in the lab dying of exhaustion. Why did this guy have so much free time? Why was he literally everywhere? I glared at Henry from across the pool. He swam like a professional. When he pulled himself out of the water, the droplets traced down the hard lines of his abs. Wow. That was… actually a really nice view. But definitely not as good as Ro’s. I texted Ro immediately, demanding a new ab pic to cleanse my palate. Ro didn’t reply. I packed up my gym bag and walked out to the lobby. It was pouring rain outside. A total torrential downpour. I didn’t have an umbrella. I was about to text my roommates to save me, but I remembered they were both off-campus at their part-time jobs. The rain showed zero signs of stopping anytime soon. “I’ll walk you back.” A black umbrella popped open right above my head. I looked up, then spun around. Henry was standing right behind me. “No… it’s fine. I texted my brother.” “Reginald is running the particle simulator. Phones aren’t allowed in that wing. He won’t see your message for at least two hours.” “…” I swallowed my pride. “Okay… thanks, then.” Henry gave me the faintest, almost invisible curve of a smile. “Let’s go.” When we got to my dorm building, I thanked him again and practically sprinted upstairs. The second I hit the third floor, my phone buzzed. Ro: “I’ll take a picture for you when I get home.” Me: “Okay! Btw, it rained so hard today. I was almost stranded at the pool. Luckily a nice guy walked me back to my dorm with his umbrella.” “…” 10 A few days after the storm, the weather spiked into a brutal heatwave. The campus felt like the inside of an oven. Around noon, I had to run an errand off-campus. By the time I walked back through the main gates, I felt like I was going to melt into the pavement. I passed by the physics building and decided to detour to Reginald’s lab to steal some air conditioning. But Reginald wasn’t there. The only person in the outer lab was Henry. “Looking for Reginald? He went to Professor Harris’s office. You can wait inside.” Normally, I would have made up an excuse and left. But it was over ninety degrees outside. I nodded gratefully, pulled up a stool, and sat down. Henry glanced at me, then pulled a chilled bottle of water out of a mini-fridge and handed it to me. “Drink.” “Thanks…” The lab was split into an outer office and an inner clean room. Henry went back into the inner room to monitor a machine. Through the glass partition, I caught him looking up at me every few minutes. His eyebrows were pulled tight. Then he would look down at his phone and type furiously. I was so confused. I barely knew this guy. We had spoken maybe ten sentences to each other since the semester started. I ignored it, leaning my head against the cool metal of the desk. The heat outside had totally drained me. My vision started blurring at the edges. A moment later, Henry set his phone down and walked out of the inner room. “Harper…” “Yeah?” I tried to lift my head. Right as I moved, the heavy lab door swung open. Reginald walked in. “Harper? What are you doing here?” “Reginald…” I stood up. Maybe I moved too fast, or maybe the heat had finally won. Black spots swarmed my vision, and the floor dropped out from under me. Both guys lunged forward. “Harper!” “Her blood sugar crashed.” Multiple hands grabbed my arms to stop me from hitting the floor. One pair of hands felt different. They were slightly cool to the touch, not warm and calloused like my brother’s. I heard the crinkle of a plastic wrapper. A second later, something intensely sweet was pressed against my lips. I opened my mouth, tasting strawberry. My lips brushed against soft, cool fingertips. Not my brother’s hands. “Brooks, I told you a hundred times no food or drinks in the lab! You’re sneaking candy in here again?!” Reginald’s voice echoed in the room. Wait. So the candy… and the hands… “She’s literally passing out on the floor and you’re lecturing me about lab safety protocols?! Do you even care about her at all?!” Oh. That was Henry shouting. He had candy in his pocket? But his words sounded so weirdly accusatory. I blinked, my vision slowly clearing. I caught the furious look on Reginald’s face. I instinctively grabbed Henry’s wrist. “Don’t talk to him like that.” “…” Before I closed my eyes again, the furious look had completely transferred onto Henry’s face.

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I was the fake heiress of a billionaire family. When the real daughter finally returned, everyone waited for me to lose my mind and fight for their affection. Instead, I packed my bags with record speed. “I can finally leave? Oh my god, thank you. Thank you so much.” The real heiress stared at me in shock. “You don’t hate me?” I patted her shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” “Six in the morning cardio, eight at night curfew, absolute silence at the dinner table, and every single date has to be approved by a corporate board…” The color slowly drained from her face. I gave her a flashy wave. “Good luck with all that. I’m off to taste freedom!” 1 “Incoming call from Bruce. Incoming call from Bruce.” I was slacking off at the office, totally engrossed in a raid on my computer. The sudden ringtone from the family butler startled me so badly my hand jerked, and my character died instantly. “Miss Jenica, Mr. Collins wants you back at the main estate immediately.” I sat up straight, my eyes darting to the calendar in the bottom right corner of my screen. My chest tightened. Could it be that day? “Bruce, is it…” “Yes,” Bruce replied, his tone heavy with gravity. “Miss Lily’s DNA results just came back. Your father has already dispatched a motorcade to pick her up.” I shot out of my office chair like a rocket. In the next cubicle, Gwen was still glued to her screen. My sudden movement made her jump, her eyes wide. “Did you win the lottery or something? Why do you look so happy?” “Better than the lottery!” I shut down my computer at lightning speed, grabbing the little potted succulent from my desk and shoving it into my tote bag. “I’m finally free!” “Okay, but why are you stealing company property?” “I’ve watered this thing for three years. We have an emotional bond.” Half an hour later, I stood at the towering wrought iron gates of the Collins estate, taking a deep breath. This is the last time, Jenica. Just play your part for one final scene, and you can escape this gilded cage forever. 2 Pushing open the heavy oak doors, I found the atmosphere in the living room thick enough to cut with a knife. My dad, my mom, and my older brother, Carter. The three of them sat on the genuine Italian leather sofas in a perfect, rigid triangle. Well, triangles are known for their structural stability. “Dad, Mom, Carter.” I greeted them one by one, the picture of a perfectly raised socialite. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted the manila folder containing the DNA report resting on the glass coffee table. I kept my face entirely blank. Inside, I was doing backflips. Which limited edition designer bags should I take with me tonight? My dad didn’t notice the absolute joy dancing in my eyes. He cleared his throat in a tactical maneuver. “Jenica, sit down. We have some news to share with you…” “I’m the fake daughter swapped at birth, the real heiress has been found, and she’s on her way home right now, correct?” I answered before he could finish. “Where is she? I’ll go greet her.” The sprawling, cavernous living room fell into a dead silence. My entire family looked like they had just swallowed sour lemons. Carter narrowed his eyes at me. “Are you okay, Jenica? Did the shock break your brain?” He paused, his voice softening just a fraction. “If you need to cry, just cry. Don’t hold it in.” “Sweetheart, Mom knows you must be devastated…” “Stop right there. I am absolutely fantastic.” I raised a hand to halt their pity party. “When does my sister get here? Do you need me to help decorate her room?” My dad’s brow furrowed into a deep V. “Jenica, you… you aren’t upset? Daddy still loves you, you know.” “Why would I be upset?” I blinked innocently. “Getting a new sister is amazing.” Three pairs of eyes stared at me with heavy suspicion. They clearly didn’t buy a single word. In the script they had written in their heads, my reaction should have been: A. A total mental breakdown with ugly crying. B. Flipping the coffee table in a fit of jealous rage. C. Passing out cold on the Persian rug. They had even prepared themselves to keep Lily waiting outside until I calmed down from my inevitable tantrum. “Lily is coming home. Your status here…” Carter let the sentence hang, his voice low and warning. It was bizarre. He was actually waiting for me to lose my mind. Too bad. I just blinked at them again, refusing to take the bait. Nobody can exploit me if I make myself completely useless. 3 Carter let out a cold scoff. “So dramatic.” Then, like a grade schooler trying to show off, he waved a hand at Bruce. The butler immediately escorted a girl in a simple white sundress into the room. She was biting her lower lip, her expression a mix of terror and unease. She looked like she was bracing herself for a war. The moment I saw her face, I understood exactly how they had tracked down the real heiress. We couldn’t call them identical twins, but she was an absolute carbon copy of our dad. I took a step forward. Instantly, the family’s collective gaze locked onto me, darting frantically between Lily and myself. Feeling a sudden urge to mess with them, I held back a grin and walked toward her in torturously slow motion. Then, under their horrified stares, I threw my arms wide open. “Sister! Welcome home!” Lily froze like a statue. Her eyes went as round as saucers, looking like a deer caught in headlights. She stuttered over her words. “You don’t hate me? I’m taking your place…” “Hate you? I’m trying to figure out how to thank you!” I had barely finished my sentence when a theatrical, rhythmic sobbing erupted behind me. My mom threw herself forward with the dramatic flair of a daytime soap opera star, pulling Lily into a crushing embrace. “My poor, suffering daughter…” My mouth twitched. I silently shuffled a few steps to the side, giving my dad and Carter enough room to join the performance. The four of them huddled together in a tearful group hug. It was a scene straight out of a prime time family drama. Standing on the sidelines, watching their genuine outpouring of emotion, a tiny, fleeting pang of loss brushed against my heart. But I packed that feeling away almost instantly. While they were drowning in the sentimental atmosphere of their family reunion, I quietly backed out of the room. I marched up the grand staircase and began tossing things into my suitcase with ruthless efficiency. The very first casualty was a heavy hardcover book on my nightstand titled The Elegant Socialite’s Guide to Etiquette. It went straight into the trash can. Twenty minutes later, I reappeared at the top of the stairs, dragging a massive Louis Vuitton trunk behind me. The heartwarming family moment below froze completely. The looks on their faces were pure comedy. “Jenica Collins! What on earth are you doing? Have you lost all sense of decorum?” “I’m making room for my sister, obviously.” Lily stood awkwardly by the sofa. “You really don’t have to do that…” Seeing her distress, I walked down the stairs and gave her a friendly pat on the shoulder. “Girl, do you have any idea what the rules are in this house?” 4 She shook her head, looking utterly lost. I started counting on my fingers. “Every single day starts with a six AM run. If you’re out, you have to be back by eight PM sharp. You cannot make a single sound with your silverware while eating. And if you want to date, you need the family board’s approval.” “Oh, right. I almost forgot. On my first date when I was seventeen, they sent three terrifying bodyguards to shadow us. They scared the poor guy so badly he transferred to a different school the next week.” Her face went paper white. She shot a terrified glance at her new parents. My mom tried to cut me off. “Jenica! Stop scaring your sister!” “I’m not scaring anyone.” Just stating the daily facts. Carter was the sharpest of the bunch. He was the first to realize something was genuinely wrong here, asking me exactly where I thought I was going. “I’m going to be a normal person.” He looked at me like I had grown a second head. Taking a long stride, his tall frame blocked my path to the door. “You’ve been pampered and spoiled your entire life. Do you honestly think you can survive outside the Collins family?” I stopped and gave him a highly mysterious smile. “Carter, care to guess exactly how much cash I’ve been secretly hoarding in my private accounts over the years?” “To be completely honest, I’m just thanking God for finally showing me some mercy.” Carter was left utterly speechless. Lily grabbed the sleeve of my faux fur coat, tears welling in her eyes. “Please don’t go…” I patted her head with motherly affection. “Be a good girl. You are the sole hope of the Collins family now.” With that, I gave them a fabulous wave, gripped the handle of my suitcase, and marched out the front door without looking back. “Good luck to all of you. I’m off to chase my freedom!” Outside, Gwen was idling in the driveway in a massive black G-Wagon. When she saw my outfit, her jaw practically hit the steering wheel. “Jenica, are you eloping?” My heels clicked rapidly against the pavement as I broke into a jog. “This is way better than an elopement. This is a prison break!” I scrambled into the passenger seat and yanked the seatbelt across my chest. “Drive, drive, drive! Step on it before they realize what’s happening.” As the engine roared to life, I took one final look at the sprawling estate I had called home for over twenty years. I let out a maniacal, supervillain style laugh. “I, Jenica Collins, am finally free!” As we peeled down the driveway, I could have sworn I heard my mom screaming from the front porch. “Stop her! That suitcase is stuffed with my crocodile skin Birkins!” 5 “So, bestie, where are we going to celebrate?” Gwen’s question snapped me back to reality. Celebrate. Yes. A monumental occasion like this demanded a proper celebration. I rubbed my hands together in sheer excitement. Pulling out my phone, I opened a note I had created ages ago titled 100 Things to Do After Escaping the Collins Family. I announced my plans with raging passion. “Stop one: Greasy late night chili cheese dogs. Stop two: Loaded nachos from that shady truck. Stop three: That BBQ diner that stays open until 4 AM!” Through the open car window, the cool night wind whipped through my hair. It brought the smell of street food, an intoxicating mix of fried grease and savory spices. Back at the estate, every single calorie I consumed was monitored by a private chef. I couldn’t eat anything fattening. I couldn’t eat anything that might dull my complexion. And I certainly wasn’t allowed anywhere near food that smelled pungent. But right now, I rolled the window down all the way, let out a massive cheer, and screamed into the night sky. “To hell with socialite etiquette. I’m going to eat until I explode!” “Yeah right. With your fragile little billionaire stomach, a few greasy ribs are going to put you straight in the ER.” Gwen paused, delivering a strategic and lethal follow up strike. “Besides, do you think William Sinclair is just going to let you vanish?” I choked on my own spit. My fiery rebellion was instantly extinguished. William Sinclair. Just hearing his name felt like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head. Seeing my silence, Gwen clicked her tongue. “What? Did you just chicken out?” “It’s not about chickening out. Corporate marriages are just an exchange of core assets between two dynasties. The most reliable asset is the biological daughter. Who the hell am I?” I might as well be smart about it and keep my distance voluntarily. “Oh, spare me. You two grew up together. William’s feelings for you are…” “You’re overthinking it.” I shook my head firmly. “It’s purely a business alliance. He’s a ruthless machine. He doesn’t care if his bride is Jenica, Lily, or even my brother Carter. As long as the last name is Collins, it makes no difference to him.” Who was William Sinclair? He was the undisputed heir to the Sinclair empire, a man who had terrified veteran executives at the negotiation table when he was only sixteen. He took over the global conglomerate at twenty, establishing himself as a brutal, blood chilling force in the financial world. To a man like that, feelings were probably the most worthless commodity on the market. Why must happiness be so fleeting? My heart cracked a little as I stared out the window. “He used to be my future husband. Now he’s going to be my brother in law.” 6 By noon the next day, I woke up with a hangover so vicious it felt like a freight train had parked on my skull. I dragged myself out of bed, completely disoriented. Bright sunlight poured through the windows. Squinting at my phone, I saw the time: 1:30 PM. Perfect. I had successfully slept through breakfast and lunch. Classic me. My notifications were exploding with a barrage of texts from Gwen. “So? How was your quality time with William Sinclair last night? Did you guys unlock any new locations? The bed? The couch? Against the mirror? Against the floor to ceiling windows?” “No need to thank me. I know you’ve been thirsting over that man for years. Losing control is only human nature.” [GIF of someone winking aggressively] “Honestly though, Sinclair is looking like a full course meal these days. I’d take a bite myself.” What? What was she talking about? Where did William come from? I dug my fingers into my temples, desperately trying to fish out any fragmented memories from the black hole of my blackout. But my brain offered absolutely nothing. I scrolled further down the chat and saw a video clip. The moment I tapped play, I nearly chucked my phone across the room. Oh god. In the video, my face was flushed bright pink. My eyes were totally unfocused. I was standing with one foot perched on a plastic patio chair at the diner. Looking up at the night sky at a dramatic forty five degree angle, I took a melancholic sip from a Capri Sun pouch and spoke in a deep, philosophical tone. “Gwen, you must remember this life lesson. Love will always betray you. But a double chocolate layer cake never will.” Gwen’s voice could be heard off camera, dripping with disgust. “Are you speaking English right now?” I held up a single, solemn finger directly at the lens. With my other hand, I slowly reached into my tote bag, pulled out a stark white chef’s hat, and placed it on my head with the gravity of a coronation. “The old Jenica is dead. Standing before you now is Jenica the Great. The woman who will make you wait in line for three hours just to buy her signature cheesecake.” Gwen’s sense of humor was practically nonexistent. She was laughing so hard the camera shook violently. “Oh my god, your main character syndrome is out of control… Wait!” Her voice abruptly hitched in the video. “Behind you…” On screen, I scoffed, refusing to look back. “Trying to trick me again? Last time we were at the club you pulled the exact same…” The next second, my on screen self froze solid. Because a long, elegantly pale hand draped itself gently over my shoulder. I turned around in a drunken stupor, locking eyes with a familiar, slightly exasperated pair of dark eyes. It was William. 7 William was dressed in a razor sharp, bespoke three piece suit. His tie was perfectly knotted. He radiated an aura of ruthless corporate elite, looking entirely out of place amidst the greasy smoke of a late night diner. And there I was, foot resting on a plastic chair, wearing a chef’s hat, clutching a Capri Sun. The air in the video seemed to freeze. On screen, I blinked slowly. Suddenly, a massive grin broke across my face, and I reached out to poke his cheek. “Huh? What is William doing in a place like this? Am I dreaming…” I leaned in closer, studying him through a hazy, drunken fog. “But why is this dream version of William so cold? He doesn’t even know how to smile…” Saying that, my hands suddenly grabbed both sides of his face, and I forcefully pushed his cheeks upward. I physically dragged his face into a terrifying “smile”. I even knocked his gold rimmed glasses slightly askew. Behind the lenses, those usually calm, unreadable eyes widened in rare shock. His long eyelashes fluttered. The video abruptly cut off. Me: “…” The phone slipped from my hand and hit the mattress with a soft thud. I slid off the edge of the bed until I hit the floor, burying my face in my hands and letting out a hollow wail of pure despair. “Just kill me now.” Right as I was calculating the logistics of faking my own death and fleeing the country, my phone started ringing. Caller ID: [William the Iceberg] I scrambled to pick it up, my voice trembling like a leaf. “H-hello??” His voice came through the speaker. It was deep, low, and carried a faint, barely detectable trace of exhaustion. “You’re awake?” “A-awake. Yes.” I curled into a ball of shame. “Does your head hurt?” “I-it’s manageable.” “Good. The kitchen is on the second floor. My chef left some hangover soup for you on the stove.” Your second floor? A horrifying realization crashed into me. I looked around. I was in a completely unfamiliar bedroom, decorated in an ultra minimalist palette of black, white, and gray. There was a half empty iced Americano sitting on the nightstand. I was in William Sinclair’s house. “Wait a minute! Why am I at your house?” 8 A heavy silence stretched over the line for two agonizing seconds. “You had too much to drink last night. You threw up all over my suit, and you ruined your own clothes. When I offered to drive you back to the Collins estate, you wrapped your arms around a streetlamp and refused to let go, screaming that you’d rather die than go back.” “Then you grabbed my sleeve, demanded that we elope, and asked if I was willing to run away with you…” Me: “…” “Gwen suddenly remembered an ‘urgent emergency’. She grabbed her car keys and practically sprinted away, looking like a woman on a sacred mission. So, my only option was to bring you here.” I was cringing so hard my toes were cramping. “So… we didn’t… you know. We didn’t do anything inappropriate, right?” “You really don’t remember a single thing from last night? Do you have any idea what you did to me…” His tone sounded utterly incredulous, but he cut himself off before finishing the sentence. My heart rate instantly spiked to a hundred and eighty beats per minute. A thousand wildly explicit scenarios flashed through my brain. The bed. The couch. Against the mirror. The floor to ceiling windows. Did we actually… do it?! Jenica Collins, that is your future brother in law! You are an absolute monster! Worse than a monster! “I remember! I remember! I just… maybe the details are a little fuzzy…” I let out a hollow laugh, desperately trying to cover up the fact that my mind was a total blank. I could hear the metallic tap of a fountain pen against a mahogany desk through the receiver. Tap. Tap. Tap. Beating right against my frayed nerves. A moment later, a faint, almost imperceptible sigh came through the phone. “Jenica.” “Present!” I answered out of pure reflex, standing up straight like a student called on by the principal. “Last night you mentioned…” He paused. “You want to open a bakery?” My heart did a little jump. “Y-yes. That’s the plan.” “Do you need venture capital?” I waved my hands frantically, even though he couldn’t see me. This tiny little business didn’t need Sinclair level investment. I had already done the math. The private stash of cash I’d saved up, combined with the limited edition bags I “liberated” from the estate, was more than enough to secure a storefront. “No, no, I’m fully funded. Just come by and buy a cupcake once in a while. Be my lucky charm.” “Alright,” he agreed easily. “I’ll be there on your grand opening day.” My eyes practically turned into dollar signs. The God of Wealth was gracing me with his presence. I could hear a low chuckle through the phone, a quiet, rich sound that held a hint of genuine amusement. Just when I thought the conversation was wrapping up, he suddenly dropped a sentence entirely out of nowhere. “What if I said I am willing?” I blinked. “Huh?” “Never mind.” His voice instantly snapped back to its usual icy composure, as if that brief moment of vulnerability was just a figment of my imagination. “Get some rest.” 9 After he hung up, my phone screen lit up with a new notification. A friend request hovered on the screen: [Lily Collins has requested to add you as a friend.] Her profile picture was a meme of a crying cat. I hit accept. Almost instantly, a voice memo popped up. Her voice sounded choked with tears. “Jenica, I didn’t realize how exhausting your life has been all these years. How did you manage to survive it?” I stared at the screen, falling into deep thought. How did I survive? By being a coward with zero backbone, obviously. But since she asked so nicely, I had to give her something. [It’s a piece of cake. (Emoji with a rose in its teeth)] Lily seemed amused. “I need to learn from you! I’m going to stay strong!” She followed it up with a [We can do this!] sticker. I replied with a [Head pat] emoji, casually adding, “My new bakery is opening in a couple of days. Do you want to drop by? Infinite free cake for you. You can eat whatever you want, as much as you want.” Nobody in their right mind turns down fresh cake. Lily was clearly touched. “I’m majoring in marketing at college. I’m going to write a dedicated promotional post for your shop on my socials to pay you back… and to pay for the cake!” She sounded as excited as a little kid. I smiled and shook my head, not taking it too seriously. It wasn’t until opening day that I realized how drastically I had underestimated my little sister’s internet clout. 10 The morning sun had barely touched the display window before a massive line snaked out the front door and down the block. Crowds of girls had their phones out, aggressively snapping photos of the pastries in the glass case. “It’s true! This is the place the ‘Sweet Tooth Detective’ recommended!” “I saw the viral post too! This tiramisu looks insane. I have to review this for my followers!” “Oh my god, I am literally crying over this velvet cake. I’ll say it a million times: humanity needs cake like the earth needs the sun!” [Cash App transfer received: $52.00] [Apple Pay received: $88.00] The glorious chime of the register rang out continuously like an angelic choir. My smile grew so wide it threatened to split my face in half. I had no idea I was related to a heavy hitter. Lily ran a massive food influencer account with over two hundred thousand followers. My parents had absolutely no clue. As I counted the cash, I silently repented. Jenica, you terrible person. Look at this sweet angel of a sister, and you’re still secretly thirsting after her fiancé? You are absolute garbage! By noon, the crowd doubled. My hands were moving so fast while boxing pastries that they were practically a blur. Even though I was rushed off my feet, even though my arms were shaking from exhaustion, the feeling was absolutely euphoric. The joy of making my own money, the grounding reality of building something with my own two hands. It was a sensation I had never experienced in the gilded cage of the Collins estate. 11 By six PM, the rush finally died down. I was leaning over the counter, tallying up the day’s revenue, when the brass bell above the door chimed. “Sorry, we’re totally sold out for the day…” I looked up and the words died in my throat. William stood in the doorway, dressed in a sharp charcoal gray three piece suit. Behind him, parked in the fading evening light, his Maybach gleamed with the sinful glow of exorbitant wealth. Just looking at him standing there, I could practically hear the money whispering in the air. Damn. The man I had my eye on really was built differently. That aura was unmatched. He walked up to the counter, his dark eyes locking onto me. He looked genuinely surprised. “In all the years you lived at the estate, I’ve never seen you look as happy as you did today. I honestly thought you only opened a bakery because you had nowhere else to go.” I chuckled, happily stacking a pile of bills. “Mr. Sinclair, you just don’t get it. If everyone in the world is busy being a billionaire CEO or a high society socialite, who is going to bake all the soft, delicious cakes?” “Besides, someone in this world has to play the role of the ordinary person.” “No dramatic ups and downs, no cutthroat boardroom battles. Just quietly existing in the background, playing a small, happy part in the universe.” William listened quietly. After a long moment, his gaze swept over the completely empty pastry displays. His voice turned slightly hoarse. “On my way here, I saw someone walking down the street carrying one of your boxes. They looked incredibly happy.” He paused, lowering his voice. “I imagine it must taste wonderful.” “It’s a shame I was too late.” “I’m sorry. It seems like… I’m never able to show up by your side at the right time.”

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Before faking my death, I decided to take revenge on the arrogant rich kids at my private school. I borrowed ten thousand dollars from each of them. Seven years passed. Everything settled. They had all risen to the top, powerful enough to cover the sky with one hand. Some even had fiancées now. They probably didn’t even remember who I was. So I quietly returned to finish my final mission: The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze. On the second day of following one of them, I was tied up on his bed. Just as I trembled in terror, he looked down at me with unfamiliar, arrogant eyes. “Don’t send me random little rats like this. Send her to my brother. Isn’t this his type? He’s been looking for girls like her for years.” 1 The man by the bed was talking on the phone, bored and careless. At the same time, his cold gaze swept over me. I wore an ordinary long-sleeved shirt and pants, with black-framed glasses on my nose. A painfully ordinary outfit. I had been quietly following him, watching him from the shadows. The system had just announced in my head: [The cannon-fodder villainess’s regretful, bitter, shadowy gaze: Target One complete.] Then I was dragged onto this soft bed. Reid Ashford cursed into the phone without mercy. “You sent this to my bed? A girl so plain she’d disappear in a crowd?” His face looked terrible as he reached out with long fingers, about to untie me. Then the person on the other end said something. Reid paused. His dark eyes narrowed and fixed on me. “What? She was following me?” He tapped the speaker button. A trembling voice came from the phone. “Yes, Mr. Ashford. I noticed this girl had been following you. I brought her here so you could decide what to do with her.” So Reid, who had untied me halfway, tied me back up again. After receiving my file, he scanned it briefly and tossed it aside. “Turns out we went to the same prep school.” “You… don’t know me?” I asked carefully. Reid looked like he had heard something absurd. He laughed, mocking and bright. “Are you someone important? Do I need to know you?” I froze. Seven years had passed. Maybe there had been plenty of pretty girls around him, so seeing my face did not jog his memory. But there was no way he could see my name, know we went to the same private school, and have no impression of me at all. Because Reid had been the cruelest one to me back then. He forced me to be his lackey, made me orbit around him. My breakfast would be thrown into the trash by him. Then he would make me call him “sir” and beg him to let me eat. Only then would he lazily feed me his own breakfast. “Like a little rat.” He would usually say it casually, then pinch my cheeks while they puffed from chewing. Reid hated me from the first time he saw me. If he was the reckless, dazzling young heir, then I was the invisible girl hiding in my own world, too quiet to speak. Until one day, I accidentally stepped on the watch he had dropped. I was so frightened I could barely stand. Without thinking, I knew it had to cost a fortune. He curved his lips coldly and crooked a finger at me. “Rooftop. Little rat.” That evening, he casually removed my black-framed glasses and threw them aside. Then he grabbed my hair. My heavy bangs were pulled back too. He paused. The cold disgust in his eyes was replaced by something else. He raised an eyebrow and swept his gaze over me with interest. “Didn’t expect that. You’re actually pretty. So why do you act like a rat? You don’t even dare look me in the eye.” I timidly stepped back. Secretly, I thought to myself that I hadn’t known either. But ever since the system appeared and told me I was the dark, timid cannon-fodder villainess in a melodramatic romance novel, I had accepted it. My insecure, gloomy existence was only there to contrast the male leads’ brilliance and the heroine’s bright confidence. Reid waited for my answer. I failed to squeeze out a single word. He impatiently pinched my face hard. Unexpectedly, he did not punish me or make me pay for the watch. He made me his follower instead. Running errands for him. Letting him tease me. Until I borrowed ten thousand dollars from him. Then secretly threw his backpack into a dirty ditch. Then faked my death. 2 Reid said calmly, “I had a car accident two years ago and forgot a lot of things. But…” He sneered. “Don’t tell me you’re my ex-girlfriend from before the amnesia.” “No, no, no…” I denied it quickly. Learning that he had lost his memory, I quietly breathed in relief and forced a smile. “Sorry. I won’t follow you again.” He looked down at me, and I could not tell whether he believed me. A moment later, just like years ago, he lazily removed my black-framed glasses and pinched my jaw, forcing me to lift my head. I still did not look at him. My lashes trembled lightly. “Although I hate rats,” Reid said with a half-smile, “my brother likes them.” “No!” I instantly struggled and looked up. Reid had lost his memory because of the accident, but his brother definitely had not. And I had seen his brother’s methods. “That’s not up to you,” Reid said coldly. 3 Reid brought me straight back to the Ashford estate. I struggled the entire way. But since he never untied me, my struggle was useless. Reid curved his lips and pressed down my restless legs. “What are you pretending for? You were the one following me. Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested in your type. My brother is, though. If you manage to hook him, your effort won’t have been wasted.” I stayed silent and ignored him. In my head, I asked the system, [What are my chances of escaping?] The system sounded disappointed in me. [You don’t want an opportunity handed to your face? How else will you complete the mission? You could follow Reid because he goes to racetracks and bars every day. Is Warren Ashford the same?] I suddenly understood. [Good point.] But I was still scared. After all, I still owed him money. The system patiently advised, [It’s only a little money. Warren is so busy, and you’re so ordinary. How could he possibly remember you?] I agreed. [True.] After the system comforted me, I calmed slightly. The system said, [Mm-hm. Keep going.] During the years I had faked my death, the system told me the plot had already deviated. The male leads never met the heroine, and the heroine had gone abroad to study and build her career. But my mission had not changed. Thank goodness. That reassured me. I was just waiting to complete the mission and collect the money. For the next few days, Reid was not around. He locked me in the enormous estate. Technically, it counted as imprisonment. But there was a butler, maids, and a chef. I ate, slept, slept, and ate. Until one morning a week later, countless staff poured into the mansion and began decorating. I leaned over the bedroom balcony and looked down. “Today is Warren Ashford’s birthday.” The system said, [If I remember correctly, before you faked your death, he made you prepare birthday gifts for him every year.] Meaning, how could I not remember his birthday? I said silently, “It wasn’t only him asking for birthday gifts. There were two others too. I didn’t have money…” The system said, [Didn’t they give you money?] I said seriously, “Once they gave it to me, it was mine. What did that have to do with their birthday gifts?” The system: […Oh.] 4 The estate was decorated magnificently. Champagne towers stood in several places, and the whole mansion was soaked in a grand, extravagant birthday atmosphere. That evening, many people in formalwear arrived. From the third floor, I could hear the lively noise below. Reid came back too. He threw a dress at me. A moon-white short dress. Not exactly flashy, more fresh and elegant. Except for the huge bow at the waist cutout. I shook my head. “I’m not wearing it.” Internally, I complained. Even with amnesia, Reid had not changed at all. Back in school, he had constantly tried to make me wear short skirts for him. Now too. Reid lifted his eyes. “Don’t tell me you plan to go down dressed like that.” What was wrong with my outfit? White T-shirts were simple. Black pants were casual. I whispered, “I could also not go down.” Reid laughed from anger. “Then why did I keep you here?” He dragged me to the balcony and lifted his chin toward the lively garden below. His tone was sarcastic. “Everyone else is wearing gowns. You want to be special? Though even if you wear the dress, you won’t be as pretty as those women.” I said, “It’s not like I asked to come.” Just then, noise rose downstairs. Several warm greetings followed. The main character had arrived. I saw the man stepping out of the car at the entrance immediately. He wore a crisp suit. A quiet, gentle girl held his arm. She looked timid, as if she had never seen a scene like this. Compared with seven years ago, when he had still carried some youthful coldness, Warren Ashford was now entirely mature, with the ease of someone in power and the ability to hide every emotion. Reid looked down and clicked his tongue. “My brother’s here. I’m going down.” “Change or don’t,” he said, pinching my face with a half-smile. “Maybe my brother likes them this plain.” I froze. Before I could process his meaning, he pushed the door open and left. He seemed certain I did not dare go downstairs. And did not dare run away. “Wait here nicely,” Reid said lazily. “Don’t look so miserable. If my brother likes you, you’ll get a lot of money. If he doesn’t, you’re free. I’ll give you some cash too. How’s that?” I frowned lightly. “But your brother clearly has a date tonight…” “Oh,” Reid said carelessly. “He changes them often.” Then the door closed. Listening to his footsteps fade, I stood there as the evening wind brushed past. While I was dazed, I noticed Warren downstairs turn his head slightly. His gaze seemed about to move toward me. I crouched down at lightning speed and slowly crawled back into the room. Over the past few days, I had thought a lot. Although the chance of Warren remembering me was indeed small, seven years ago, he had been a genius with a terrifying memory. And he held grudges. These untouchable heirs were not good people. As long as there was even the slightest possibility of being recognized, I could not gamble. Besides, Reid might recover his memory someday. Even more terrifying. Wasn’t it just a shadowy gaze? When the time came, I could apply to be a cleaner at Warren’s company, fully disguise myself, and mop floors every day. There would always be a chance to watch him from the shadows. 5 Once the party downstairs began and everyone was busy drinking, I quietly opened the door and slipped out. The next second, I ran into several well-dressed people in the hallway. They were chatting. “Is the lounge on the third floor?” I startled. They noticed me too. The girl in the center was the same one who had been holding Warren’s arm earlier. When she saw me, she paused. “You are…?” I pressed my lips together. “I’m… uh, the housekeeper’s daughter. Yes.” Someone immediately questioned, “Can a housekeeper’s daughter stay upstairs?” The girl seemed to realize something. The others did too. Their gazes toward me turned disgusted. “So you’re some servant’s daughter. Here to steal things, right? I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford.” Someone agreed, voice contemptuous. “Yeah. Look at her. Guilty as hell.” My eyes widened. “Wait.” The girl was firm and turned toward the stairs. “Today is Mr. Ashford’s birthday. I won’t let theft happen here.” “I was brought here by Reid Ashford!” I blurted in panic. Her steps stopped. Then she turned back suspiciously and scanned me again. “You? Brought by him? How is that possible?” The way she looked at me was completely different from the shy expression she had worn beside Warren. Just then, a careless voice sounded. “What’s going on here?” Everyone turned. Reid raised an eyebrow, looking slightly surprised by the scene. The girl immediately explained. “We came up to find the lounge and saw her sneaking around the hallway. I thought she was a thief and was going to tell Mr. Ashford. But she said you brought her here.” Seeing Reid, I breathed in relief. He could prove I was not a thief. But the air strangely fell silent. After a while, Reid pulled his lips coldly. “You said you saw her in the hallway?” The girl nodded quickly. “She looked very suspicious. Like she had just stolen something and was trying to run.” Me: “…” “Run?” Reid repeated with a fake smile. I suddenly had a bad feeling. Sure enough, his next words were cold. “She is a thief.” The girl’s eyes lit up at his confirmation. She glared at me again. “Not only a thief, but a liar too. I’m going to tell Mr. Ashford and let him deal with you.” Her little leather shoes tapped quickly as she ran downstairs. Her voice softened again. “Mr. Ashford…” I froze in place, my whole body cold. I looked at Reid in confusion. Reid leaned against the hallway wall with his arms crossed. His dark eyes fell on me, cold and superior. After a moment, steady footsteps sounded, drawing closer. The girl complained softly. “Mr. Ashford, luckily I was sharp enough to catch this person stealing upstairs…” “She even lied and said your brother brought her.” I lowered my eyes in despair. My heart pounded from nervousness, almost breaking through my chest. Then my vision went black. The world spun, and I fell sideways. In the last second before consciousness disappeared completely, I landed in a warm embrace.

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