The Brandi family had two adopted sons. One was me. The other was Lace. On the day Annie Brandi, the eldest daughter, got engaged to Lace, she was in a car accident. Both her legs were crippled. Lace cried as he tore up the engagement. And I, to repay a debt of gratitude, married Annie. After the wedding, I took care of her for ten full years. I helped her through rehab, helped her stand again. For her, I gave up my chance to go to college. But I never expected that on the day she finally stood up and took over the family business, she would suddenly announce she was bringing Lace back home—Lace, who’d been scammed out of all his money by a sugar mama—and that she wanted to divorce me. I’d raged and questioned her. I’d smashed everything in the house. I’d even begged on my knees. But Annie remained stubborn as ever. Even my adoptive parents felt that someone like me—who never even went to college—was no longer worthy of Annie in all her current glory. In my fury, I coughed up blood right there and leaped from the top floor of the Brandi family mansion. When I opened my eyes again, I’d returned to the day the Brandis were choosing a husband for their daughter. …

Old Mr. Brandi stood on the platform, his eyes and brows radiating joy. “Today is not only Annie’s twenty-second birthday, but also the day she chooses her fiancé.” “The Brandi family and the Andrews family have been friends for generations. We’ve watched both Carter and Lace grow up since they were children.” “Annie, tell us—who do you choose?” Mrs. Brandi smiled gently beside him. “I’m guessing our daughter will choose Carter. This boy has been steady and responsible since childhood, and he’s helped Annie so much.” Whether in academics or ability, I was far superior to Lace. Everyone in the Brandi family had already privately decided it would be me. In my previous life, it was also today. Annie chose Lace without hesitation. I suppressed the love in my heart and planned to apply to the farthest university possible and never come back. But that very night, Annie was in a serious car accident. Both her legs were crushed in a compound fracture. Lace coldly tore up the engagement agreement at the hospital and ran away that same night. Annie clenched her fists but silently accepted it. Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Under invisible pressure, to repay the Brandi family’s kindness in raising me, and for my own pathetic secret crush— I gave up my guaranteed admission to Harvard and married her, crippled as she was. I took care of her for ten full years. In return, after she stood up again, she brought Lace back and kicked me out. She even forged psychiatric evaluation documents and drove me to jump to my death. The memories receded like a tide. While I was lost in thought, Annie had already grabbed Lace’s arm without hesitation. “Dad, Mom, I choose Lace.” The whole room erupted. Mrs. Brandi froze. “Annie, did you misspeak? Carter, he…” “I didn’t misspeak!” Annie cut her mother off sharply. “In this life and the next, I could never choose Carter!” Annie clutched Lace’s arm tightly, a triumphant smile curling at her lips as she continued, “Dad, since I’ve already chosen Lace, it’s not appropriate for Carter to stay with the Brandi family anymore.” “Give him some money and have him move out today.” “From now on, he has nothing to do with the Brandi family or the Andrews family assets!” “I never want to see his face again for as long as I live!” The words were utterly heartless. Old Mr. Brandi frowned deeply. “Annie! What are you thinking? We raised Carter too. How can we just throw him out?” “If we don’t throw him out, who knows what vicious things he’ll do behind our backs?” Annie sneered. “I’m doing this for the Brandi family’s peace.” I raised my head and met Annie’s gaze. In the depths of her eyes lurked deep disgust, wariness, and even a trace of hatred. I understood immediately. She had been reborn too. In the previous life, after she stood up again, she’d listened to Lace’s manipulation. She became convinced that I’d deliberately bribed the driver to cause that car accident to get her, that I’d destroyed her legs. She also became convinced that I’d used underhanded methods to drive Lace away and stolen what should have been his. So she hated me to the bone. Seeing her now, looking at me like I was a snake, the weight that had been hanging in my chest suddenly lifted. I’d been struggling with whether to stop tonight’s horrific car accident. Since she was so determined, believing that staying away from me would set everything right— Then I would grant her wish. “Fine.” Annie was clearly stunned, her brow furrowing tightly. I stepped forward, standing tall, my voice calm. “Mr. Brandi, Mrs. Brandi.” “Annie’s right. Since she’s made her choice, it really isn’t appropriate for me to stay.” Without acknowledging the shocked looks around me, I turned and headed upstairs. I pushed open my bedroom door, feeling a liberating sense of relief. I packed a few changes of clothes and the belongings my birth parents had left me. As for the luxury watches and sports car keys the Brandi family had bought me over the years—I didn’t touch a single thing.

After packing everything, I carried my suitcase back downstairs. The people in the hall hadn’t dispersed yet. Annie looked at my suitcase and let out a cold laugh. “Carter, stop playing hard to get. Let me tell you, don’t even think about any more schemes. I won’t let you manipulate me like you did bef—like you used to!” “Once you walk out that door, you’ll never get a single cent from the Brandi family!” I stopped. “Annie, don’t worry.” “The Brandi family’s money doesn’t interest me.” “But before I leave, there are some things that belong to me that I need to take.” I pulled out a document I’d prepared earlier from my bag. “Mr. Brandi, these are the core patent rights to the Andrews family technology that my birth parents left behind.” “Since I’ll have nothing to do with the Brandi family from now on, please sign this document and return these patents to me.” Old Mr. Brandi’s expression shifted. Lace immediately sneered from the side. “Carter, have you lost your mind?” “Those Andrews family patents are completely outdated. What use are they to you? You think you’re going to get rich off that junk?” Annie’s face was full of contempt. “Dad, give them to him! Since he insists on being so petty about it, return those useless papers to him. That way he can’t go around saying the Brandi family coveted the Andrews family’s assets!” Old Mr. Brandi hesitated. Years ago, my parents had died in a car accident while saving the Brandi couple. To silence public gossip, the Brandi family had adopted both Lace and me. Naturally, the Andrews family’s business and patents came under Brandi family “management.” Over the years, the Brandi family had already sucked dry all the Andrews family assets they could liquidate, leaving only these foundational technology patents they considered obsolete. “Carter, why put yourself through this? You’re a grown man—what use are these to you?” Old Mr. Brandi said with false concern. “This is the only memento my parents left me. Sign it.” My tone was firm, leaving no room for negotiation. The intermittent glances from surrounding guests put pressure on both Old Mr. Brandi and Mrs. Brandi. With a flourish, Old Mr. Brandi signed the transfer agreement and stamped it with the Brandi family seal. I carefully checked the documents, confirmed everything was in order, and put them in my bag. They had no idea that these seemingly outdated foundational patents would become the most critical breakthrough in the new energy technology sector over the next three years. In my previous life, Annie had used these patents—which I’d given away for nothing—to propel the Brandi family to become the wealthiest in the West. In this life, I would never again hand them the knife handle. “Mr. Brandi, Mrs. Brandi, the debt of raising me is greater than heaven itself, but my parents already repaid that debt with their two lives.” “From today on, I, Carter, and the Brandi family are even. All ties are severed. We owe each other nothing.” Annie stared at the suitcase in my hand, sneering. “Nice act. Just don’t come crawling back the moment you step out that door.” I glanced back at her. “Annie, I wish you and Lace a lifetime of happiness.” “Whatever you do, don’t regret this.” With that, I walked out of the Brandi family mansion without looking back. The night wind felt cool against my face. But I felt that this was the freest day of both my lives combined. Less than half an hour after leaving the Brandi family, a torrential rain hit the West. Wild wind whipped sheets of rain against the taxi’s windshield. I sat in the back seat, quietly watching the blurred nightscape outside. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “Sir, heading to the airport in this weather? Catching a flight?” I nodded. “Yeah. Going East.” “This rain is crazy. There’s been a bad accident on the overpass up ahead. Road’s closed. We’ll have to detour.” The driver muttered as he turned the wheel. Hearing the words “car accident,” my eyes flickered. Calculating the time—yes, it would be right about now. I pulled out my phone and opened the local Western news feed.

Sure enough, a bright red headline popped up. [BREAKING! Serious accident on Western overpass—black Maybach crushed by dump truck, owner suspected to be daughter of Brandi family conglomerate!] Below were several blurry photos from the scene. The front of the Maybach was completely deformed, the driver’s cabin crushed into a heap of scrap metal. A shocking pool of blood on the ground had been washed across the pavement by the rain. The news updated in real time: [Brandi family heiress’s legs trapped by deformed cabin, compound fracture, facing risk of permanent disability.] Looking at the photos on the screen, my finger paused. In my previous life, because I’d been worried about her, I’d secretly followed their car. When the accident happened, I’d risked the car exploding and smashed the window with my bare hands, nearly giving my life to drag her out. Because of my timely rescue, though her legs were disabled, the nerves were preserved. That’s why she’d had hope of standing again later. But in this life, she’d been trapped in that deformed car for a full half hour before firefighters got her out. She’d missed the optimal rescue window. Those legs of hers were finished. Annie, enjoy the rest of your crippled life locked together with your true love. I expressionlessly swiped away the news. Then I opened the back of my phone and pulled out the SIM card. I rolled down the window and tossed it out. The tiny chip was instantly swept away by the rain, disappearing into the dark sewer. In my previous life, to take care of her, I’d given up my guaranteed admission to Harvard. In this life, I’d already contacted a top professor in Harvard’s finance department in advance. Tomorrow morning, I’d report to her lab. I was going to pursue the bright future that truly belonged to me. As for Annie— That was the path she chose. … At that very moment, at Western General Hospital. The red light outside the emergency room had been on for five solid hours. When Old Mr. Brandi and Mrs. Brandi arrived, Mrs. Brandi’s legs gave out and she fainted. Lace stood in a corner of the hallway, his face ashen, irritably tugging at his tie. The emergency room doors swung open. The attending physician walked out covered in blood, his expression grave. “Mr. Brandi, we saved her life.” “But… your daughter’s legs suffered compound fractures with massive nerve death.” “We did everything we could, but she’ll likely… spend the rest of her life in a wheelchair.” The words hit like a thunderbolt. Lace’s eyes went wide in disbelief as he staggered back a step. Spend her life in a wheelchair? Crippled? Lace had dreamed of taking over the Brandi family empire! If Annie was crippled, wouldn’t he have to spend his whole life serving a paralytic and enduring people’s pitying stares? Just imagining it made Lace feel nauseated. Several nurses wheeled out a hospital bed. Annie was still unconscious, her legs wrapped in thick bandages, blood still seeping through. The air reeked of blood and disinfectant. Lace recoiled in disgust, afraid the blood would stain his expensive shoes. “Lace…” Old Mr. Brandi looked at him with red-rimmed eyes. “You’re the one Annie cares about most. You have to stay with her.” Lace forced on an expression of grief, his voice stiff. “Mr. Brandi, don’t worry. I’ll definitely take good care of Annie.” “I… I’m going to smoke a cigarette and collect myself. Then I’ll come stay with her.” With that, he turned and hurried toward the end of the hallway without a backward glance.

The next morning, Annie woke to excruciating pain. As the anesthesia wore off, her legs transmitted tearing agony mixed with a strange numbness. She stared at the white ceiling as her memory gradually returned. Feeling the pain in her lower body, something suddenly occurred to her. A moment later she relaxed, weakly managing a pale smile. Why had she still gotten in an accident even after driving Carter away? Whatever. Carter just loved her too much. She knew it—he was definitely playing hard to get, so desperate to take care of her. Depending on his behavior going forward, maybe she could forgive him after all. But in this life, without that scheming Carter getting in the way— Her Lace must be standing guard by her bedside like a devoted protector, right? “Lace…” she called hoarsely, struggling to turn her head. But the bedside was empty. No sign of Lace. Only Mrs. Brandi sat there with swollen eyes, looking like she’d aged ten years overnight. “Mom… where’s Lace?” An ominous feeling rose in Annie’s chest. Hearing her voice, Mrs. Brandi’s tears spilled over again. “Annie… stop looking for him.” “That ungrateful traitor—he ran.” “When he heard your legs were crippled, he went back to the villa overnight, cleaned out your safe, tore up the engagement agreement, and fled the country.” Annie’s brain went blank with a buzzing sound. “Impossible!” She struggled violently, and the searing pain in her legs made her gasp. “Mom, you’re lying! Lace loves me so much—how could he run?” “Did Carter drive him away!” She shouted incoherently. A nearby nurse couldn’t take it anymore and cut in coldly. “Miss Brandi, last night when the doctor announced you might be permanently disabled, the disgust in Mr. Lace’s eyes—everyone in our entire department saw it clear as day.” “He complained that the blood on your legs was dirtying his designer shoes. He used smoking as an excuse and ran faster than a rabbit.” The cold beeping of medical equipment filled the hospital room. Each sound seemed to mock her self-deception mercilessly. Annie stared at the empty doorway. Her heart felt like it was being crushed by an invisible hand. How could this be? Without Carter’s scheming, why did she still have the accident? Why did Lace still run? What went wrong? Just then, an unexpected figure appeared at the door…

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I was reborn, brought back to life on the very day my roommate wanted to swap online boyfriends with me. Waking up from the excruciating pain of being stabbed, I heard Isabella complaining to Chloe, who was on the bed opposite, about her online boyfriend. “I suggested going to the movies, and he said, ‘How about studying at the library instead?’ I suggested a walk in the park, and he said, ‘How about a lab project instead?’” Isabella rolled her eyes. “Three months of online dating, never met, never spent a dime on me. It’s so boring.” She saw I was awake, hopped off her bed, and grabbed my arm. “Catherine, you have an online boyfriend too, right? Why don’t we swap?” I looked at her, saying nothing. In my last life, I refused her. And what was the result? My online boyfriend was a good-for-nothing jerk, pretending to be a rich kid online, sweet-talking me into dating him. I fell for his lies, flunked my exams, and only got into an average university. After graduation, he conned me into taking out online loans, and I ultimately died by a debt collector’s knife. Meanwhile, Isabella’s online boyfriend was a brilliant student, excelling in both academics and character. He pushed her to study, got into a top-tier university himself, and dragged her along to an elite institution. They went from college sweethearts to walking down the aisle, but on their fifth wedding anniversary, Isabella’s secret lover burst in and stabbed her. That’s when everyone found out she’d been cheating, embezzling funds, and faking her degree all these years. Now, looking at Isabella’s expectant gaze, I nodded. “Okay.”

The first thing I did after getting Isabella’s social media account was link it to my phone. Isabella scoffed, watching my actions. “Seriously? I won’t go back on my word.” I ignored her. In my last life, she didn’t go back on her word, but in this life, I wasn’t going to gamble. After logging in, the last message in the chat history was from the guy, asking Isabella to the library, to which Isabella had responded with a sarcastic eye-roll emoji. I scrolled further back. They had been chatting for three months, and the total word count was less than what my online boyfriend and I exchanged in a week. Every time, he initiated the conversation, asking how many problems she’d solved that day, which concepts she didn’t understand, or if she needed help organizing her notes. Isabella would usually reply with “Mhm” or “Oh,” and most of the time, she didn’t reply at all. For three months, Isabella found him unromantic and never even met him. He, however, kept actively asking her to the library, but Isabella always made excuses to push him off. Perhaps it was this contrast that made Isabella conclude he was a boring bookworm, which conveniently benefited me. It had been three days since their last chat, and Isabella hadn’t replied. I quickly tapped the input box, typed a few words, deleted them, and repeated the process several times before finally sending a message: 【Isn’t meeting like this a bit too casual?】 He replied quickly: 【Then what do you want to do?】 I thought for a moment, then typed: 【Let’s go for a run on the track tonight. 800 meters. The loser does ten practice tests.】 This time, he paused for a few seconds. I stared at the screen, my palms a little sweaty. A message popped up: 【Okay.】 I breathed a sigh of relief. Even though I was reborn, my memories of studying hadn’t faded. This life, I had a chance to turn things around. I immediately got out of bed, packed my backpack, and got ready to leave. Isabella was chatting with Chloe, laughing loudly. “I’m meeting my boyfriend for bubble tea tonight. There’s a new trendy spot that just opened, and I haven’t been able to go, but tonight someone’s finally treating me!” She glanced at me, her tone boastful. “My new boyfriend? He’s so generous. You can tell he’s willing to spend money on me.” I didn’t reply, just slung my backpack on and walked out the door. After dinner, I waited for him by the track. My heart was pounding, not because we were meeting, but because I knew this man could change my destiny. In my last life, the first time I met my online boyfriend, Federico, he dragged me to a bubble tea shop, ordered two of the most expensive drinks, and then told me he’d forgotten his wallet. I ended up paying. I wondered if Isabella would manage to get anything out of him this time. Footsteps sounded behind me. I turned and saw a guy walking over. He was tall, with clear, sharp eyes, and held a bottle of water. His name was Gabriel, and in my last life, I’d seen his face on TV. I felt a little guilty and avoided eye contact. He looked at me, then handed over the water. “Warm up first, or you’ll cramp.” I took the water and started jogging slowly behind him. Neither of us spoke; only our footsteps and breathing filled the track. When we finished, I leaned on my knees, panting. Gabriel stopped beside me, glanced at his stopwatch. “Four minutes and two seconds. You lost.” “Ten practice tests,” he said. “Start tomorrow.” I looked up at him. In the moonlight, his expression was serious, and he looked handsome and fresh. “Okay.” My heart thumped uncontrollably, and my face began to flush. He nodded, then turned and walked away. I stood there, watching his retreating back, then looked down at the water bottle in my hand. My heartbeat returned to normal. Catherine, you don’t need a man; you need a top-tier university. By the time I returned to the dorm, it was almost ten. Though my legs were wobbly from exhaustion, I felt incredibly happy. In my last life, this was the day I started down the wrong path. This life, no more. I looked at Isabella’s bed; it was empty. Chloe poked her head out. “Isabella said she’s not coming back tonight. She went to an all-night karaoke with her online boyfriend.” I didn’t reply, just lay back on my bed and closed my eyes.

From that day on, Gabriel and I started studying together. I’d be in my own classroom during class, then go find him after. We’d work on our respective problems in a corner of the library, occasionally swapping notebooks with our incorrect answers. He spoke little when explaining problems, but every word hit the mark. Once, I got stuck on a function problem. He looked at it for two seconds, then tapped a number on the paper with his pen tip. “You missed this condition.” I reread the problem. Sure enough. “How do you see that so fast?” I asked, a little unconvinced. “Because I’ve seen all the problems you’ve gotten wrong,” he said. “Your main issues are careless calculations and missing conditions, not a lack of understanding of the concepts.” I froze. He’d even looked at my incorrect answers? I buried my head deeper, pretending to be diligently working on the problem. But my heartbeat was too loud; I was afraid he’d hear it. Meanwhile, Isabella started skipping classes frequently, and her allowance grew. In the dorm, she’d look at me with disdain, always flaunting things subtly. “Federico bought me another bag. Do you know, that brand costs thousands?” I advised her, “You should really study. Exams are coming up.” Isabella rolled her eyes. “You’ve been spending too much time with Gabriel, your brain’s become a stick in the mud just like his.” She glanced at the practice test I was working on and scoffed. “What’s the point of studying all day, every day? Women, you’ve got to enjoy yourself while you’re young.” I didn’t say anything more. Some paths, you only know they’re pitfalls after you’ve walked them yourself. I had already walked that one once. The day exam results came out, I had moved up thirty-two places. I snapped a picture of my report card and sent it to Gabriel: 【Thank you.】 He replied with a picture of his own report card. He’d also improved, ranking fifth in his grade. I smiled at the screen. Isabella, seeing me smile, leaned over to look and her face immediately soured. “What’s so great about getting lucky?” she suddenly blurted out. “Everyone knows what your real abilities are. Don’t think just because you got lucky on a test once, you’re hot stuff.” I put my phone away and ignored her. The class bell rang, and Federico came to the classroom door to find Isabella. She went out for a moment, and when she returned, a new bracelet adorned her wrist. Isabella deliberately extended her hand and waved it in front of me. “Pretty, right? Federico bought it for me. It cost thousands.” I glanced at the bracelet. I’d had one just like it in my last life. At the time, I thought it was a designer brand and carefully treasured it. Later, I found out it was fake, costing less than fifty dollars to make. Isabella saw I wasn’t speaking, assumed I was envious, and smugly withdrew her hand. “What good are good grades? Marrying into wealth isn’t about scores; it’s about having good judgment and knowing how to pick a man.” I remembered Federico’s cold, detached expression as I lay dying in my previous life. “Yes,” I said. “You definitely need good judgment.”

Because of this improvement, I trusted Gabriel’s abilities even more and studied harder. Isabella’s grades, however, plummeted, and she couldn’t keep up with her classes anymore. Her gaze towards me grew increasingly strange. Then, the rumors started. Chloe secretly told me, “Isabella’s been going around telling people you and Gabriel are dating, just so he’ll help you cheat on tests. She also said…” “Said what else?” “She said you don’t know how much you ‘gave up’ to improve your grades, that you’re too young to be so immoral, clinging to Gabriel because he’s smart, and tomorrow you’ll be fawning over the school’s bad boy because he’s handsome.” She looked at me, cautiously. “She also said you have no self-respect.” My hand, holding the pen, tightened. Chloe looked at me worriedly. “Catherine, maybe you should keep some distance from Gabriel? Until this blows over.” “I’m not dating,” I said. “We’re just studying together.” Chloe opened her mouth, about to say something else, when our homeroom teacher suddenly appeared at the classroom door. “Catherine, to the office, please.” In the office, Isabella stood in the corner, a smirk of schadenfreude on her face. Gabriel was there too, standing beside his homeroom teacher, Mr. Davies. I was a little nervous, but my expression was calm. Ms. Hayes, my homeroom teacher, asked, “Catherine, what’s your relationship with Gabriel?” “Study buddies,” I quickly said. “Gabriel and I both struggled with certain subjects, so we’re tutoring each other.” Isabella cut in, “Does tutoring require you to always be glued to each other? Together during breaks, together during evening study, and even together coming and going on weekends?” I ignored her, intending to continue explaining, when Gabriel suddenly spoke. “I like her. Is that a problem?”

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After getting clawed by Taylor again,I finally drove myself to the ER. The nurse peeled the towel away and sucked air through her teeth. “Honey.Honey.” Four claw marks from my shoulder damn near to my wrist.Deep enough to see pink. “Your beastman ever been through socialization training?” “Graduated top of his class.” Taylor Jones.Pureblood silver fox.Rank-S compatibility.Five hundred thousand dollars—my entire savings.Every overtime shift.Every packed lunch.Every dollar I didn’t spend on myself for three years. Twelve months ago,he begged me to choose him.Before anyone found out he was infertile. Now my phone was buzzing. “It’s just a scratch.Did you seriously go to the hospital?” “Dramatic much?” “I’m hungry.Come home and cook.” Then a fourth message.A screenshot sent to the wrong thread.Dinner reservation.Eleven Madison.Two seats.Tonight. That would be Ava. Ava.Grade-A human.Family money.She wanted Taylor for her bloodline program.Taylor played along.She didn’t know he was infertile.Nobody did except me and the Bureau. I paid dollars to save him from being discarded.Now he was helping another woman build a family. I locked the phone.Set it facedown on the exam table. One hour later I walked into the Beastman Bonding&Registration Center. “I’d like to replace my beastman.” The receptionist pulled up my file.Eleven months and three weeks of cohabitation.Ten days from permanent bonding. “Can I ask why you’ve decided to request a replacement?” “He doesn’t like me.” “…Excuse me?” “I think your training program failed.I’ve met strays that behaved better than him.If this is what a certified companion beastman looks like…then I think dogs deserve an apology.” Walking into the Center brought back the memory of how pitiful Taylor had looked that day.Before Taylor was diagnosed infertile,his auction price had once made financial headlines.He begged me to pick him up.

The receptionist’s face scrunched up.”That really shouldn’t happen.Hostile rejection from a bonded beastman is extremely rare.” I shrugged.”Guess I’m just unlucky.” “No—Ivy,please.”She stood up.”If there was a breakdown in our training process,that’s on us.That is not on you.” “This time,”I said,”I’m hoping you can match me with a dog type.” She gave me a soft smile.”Come with me.” I followed her through frosted glass doors into the back.Long hallway.Clean lighting.It reminded me of the first time I came here—how nervous I was,how carefully I’d counted the money in my account three times before walking in. In the new era,male beastmen had taken over most reproductive roles.When I bought Taylor,he cost five hundred thousand dollars.Every overtime shift.Every packed lunch. The showroom was bright and sleek.Holographic profiles rotated on a massive screen—face after face.Leopards.Snow lynxes.All gorgeous.All trained.All way out of my price range now. I watched them cycle through. “Is there…anything else?” “What type are you looking for?” “Dog type.Golden retriever,maybe.”I’d read online that golden retriever beastmen were naturally affectionate. “I’m so sorry,Ivy.No canine models available right now.”She paused.”But given your situation,we can put you on priority.First in line.” “…Okay.” She walked me back toward the lobby.As we passed through the corridor,a thick registration handbook started slipping under her arm.Something fell from between the pages. A photograph.Landed faceup on the tile. I bent down before thinking. Cold gray eyes.Sharp vertical pupils.Broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. And behind him—pointed ears.Silver-tipped. A fox. The receptionist noticed and sighed.”He’s actually the most obedient beastman we’ve ever trained.” I was still holding the photo.My thumb had landed right across his chest without me realizing. “Then why isn’t he assigned?”

“Corporate wanted to test a new market segment with him.” She hesitated.”But most humans won’t take foxes.Too unpredictable.He’s scheduled to be sold to an underground beast arena tonight.” “A fighting pit?” She nodded.Didn’t look happy about it.”He was raised for companionship since he was a kid.Temperament conditioning,emotional regulation,all of it.And they’re sending him to a cage.” She lowered her voice.”The ones they send there get torn apart.Sometimes there’s not even enough left to send back.” I looked at the photo again.Gray eyes straight into the camera.Not angry.Not sad.Just waiting. “I don’t care about fertility,”I said.”I just wanted someone—or honestly,maybe a dog—to come home to.Is he really obedient?” Her face lit up.”Extremely.” I looked at the photo one more time.Another fox.After everything Taylor put me through,I was really about to choose another fox. “Then I want this one.” “…For real?” “If nobody else wants him.” They brought him out for inspection. Taller than I expected.Broader.But the way he carried himself was small—shoulders curved in,chin tucked. He lowered his head.”I hope you’ll take me with you.” A pause. “The sooner the better.” Then he knelt.Right there on the tile floor.This six-foot-something fox beastman,on his knees in front of me. I didn’t move.Nobody had ever knelt for me before.Not once. He looked up and his ears—somewhere between a dog’s and a cat’s—pricked slightly toward me.Like he was already listening for what I needed. A good-looking guy with zero confidence.That got me.I won’t pretend it didn’t. I was done for. The paperwork took another hour.The receptionist handed me a sealed contract folder.”Ivy,I think he’s really lucky to have met you.We’ll deliver him to your registered address this evening.” “Thank you.” After finishing at the center,I headed to the mall.Place was packed the way it always was.Everyone tired from work. But happy.

Most of the people there were low-grade humans with their equally ordinary beastmen.Just regular couples doing regular shopping on a regular Tuesday night. Maybe one day that could be me.I took the subway home.Walked up four flights with the bags cutting into my fingers. I unlocked the apartment door and heard the TV already on. My hand froze on the knob for half a second. Taylor was home.He was never home.Usually he was out with Ava until midnight.But there he was,sprawled across the couch,tail flicking lazily over the armrest. It lashed once when he saw me. “Where the hell were you?You didn’t even make dinner.” “Living broke with you is bad enough.”He leaned up on one elbow.”Now I can’t even eat.” “I figured you’d eat at Ava’s.”I set the bags down by the door.”You don’t like my cooking anyway.” I said it simply:”Last birthday I spent all afternoon in the kitchen.You threw every dish in the trash.” He didn’t say anything to that. I crouched by the bags and started pulling stuff out.Chew sticks.A steel grooming comb.Fish oil supplements.I lined them up neatly beside the sofa. Taylor appeared behind me at some point. “…You’re treating me like a dog now?” I kept my face turned away from him. He picked up the comb between two fingers.”I don’t need this cheap stuff.My fur would get wrecked with a comb like this.” He glanced at the fish oil.”This brand isn’t even pure enough.” Then,quieter than before:”Whatever.Since you already bought them…I guess I can try.” “They’re not for you.”

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I’ve had a special ability since childhood—I can hear shadows speak. My father and stepmother didn’t believe me. They thought I was deliberately lying to get their attention. My stepsister, Lily, mocked me as a freak and rallied the girls at school to ostracize me. After graduating from college, Lily hooked up with a mafia boss. But on the eve of their wedding, the mafia boss was shot and fell into a coma. When he woke up, his memories were stuck at age ten. Lily immediately called off the engagement: “Make me marry an idiot? Absolutely not! I’d rather die than marry him!” Facing the mafia boss’s armed family downstairs, my father fell into despair. Just then, I heard the mafia boss’s shadow speak: “That bitch Lily! The doctor said my amnesia is only temporary. With proper care, I’ll recover in three months.” “I already bought her an island and a villa, planning to give them to her as gifts. Guess she doesn’t need them now! Once I recover, I’m going to kill her!” When I heard about the island and villa, my eyes lit up. I took the initiative and said to my father: “Dad, I’m willing to marry him in her place!”

Lily, who normally bullied me relentlessly, rushed over and hugged me when she heard I’d take her place: “Luna, you’re really willing?” I nodded. She hugged me tighter: “That’s more like it! I’ve always been so good to you, always looked after you at school. Now you’re marrying him in my place—it’s only right.” “Besides, it’s not like any man wants you anyway. Even though Jason has become an idiot, he’s handsome and has a great body. You’re not losing anything by marrying him.” She glanced at Jason standing by the door and licked her lips: “Honestly, I’m a little reluctant to let him go!” I pushed her away without retorting. Getting away from this family and earning an island and a villa—I really wasn’t losing anything. But Jason’s shadow was already trembling with rage. “Lily, you always pretended to be pure and gentle, always said your sister Luna bullied you—turns out it was all lies! You’re the vicious one!” “If I weren’t just a shadow, I’d strangle you right now!” I shrugged and went downstairs to invite Mrs. Grant to tea, then said to her: “I’m the Grant family’s eldest daughter. If you don’t mind, I’m willing to marry Jason in my sister’s place.” Mrs. Grant’s face had been filled with worry. After Jason was shot, they announced to the outside world that he would recover quickly. If he got dumped at this critical moment, other mafia factions would think Jason was down and the Grant family was finished. They’d move to absorb their territory. I had clearly become the Grant family’s lifeline. Mrs. Grant grabbed my hand excitedly: “You’re really willing? But Jason hasn’t recovered his memory yet, so we can’t hold a wedding ceremony.” “As long as you take good care of him and fulfill your duties as a wife, when he wakes up, I’ll definitely give you a generous gift.” I nodded obediently: “I’m very good at taking care of people. I’ve been tutoring since I was sixteen to earn my tuition.” Jason’s shadow said in surprise: “Her family isn’t poor though? Why would she need to earn her own tuition?” I pretended not to hear the shadow’s words and worked hard to sell myself. “I can also teach music. I’m very patient…” My stepmother eagerly chimed in: “That’s right, Luna was born to serve people. She can also do laundry and cook.” “Having her take care of Jason is perfect. I agree to this marriage. You should take her back right away.” My stepmother threw me out the door like discarding trash, unable to wait another moment. And my father, as always, let my stepmother bully me without intervention. Jason’s mother smiled, then stood up and said to me: “Come with us. Don’t bother bringing luggage. I’ll have the servants prepare new things for you.” At that moment, Jason actually came over on his own, took my hand and said: “You’re my wife? I want you to build LEGOs with me!” The moment I walked out the door, Lily’s shrill mocking voice came from behind: “A freak and an idiot—a perfect match.” Jason’s shadow cursed: “That bitch Lily! When I wake up, I’m giving Luna ten million immediately, just to piss Lily off!”

After returning to the Grant house, Mrs. Grant wiped away tears sadly: “Jason was shot in the head. It’s a miracle he’s even alive. But the doctor said as long as he’s well cared for and given enough affection, he can recover his memory in three months. But if he suffers another shock, he might stay like this forever.” “I was going to tell Lily this, but she was so heartless she refused before I could even finish.” “Luna, during this time, you must take good care of Jason. Nothing can go wrong!” What Mrs. Grant meant was that I needed to stay by his side to help awaken his memories. At the same time, Jason’s current condition couldn’t be seen by outsiders. She was busy fending off attacks from competitors. So she needed someone trustworthy to stay with Jason twenty-four hours a day. Jason’s shadow sighed: “I thought Lily would stand by me through thick and thin, but she completely broke my heart.” “I wonder if this Luna will be the same as Lily…” I smiled slightly. Then I brought Jason, who only had memories up to age ten, to the study. “Didn’t you want me to build LEGOs with you?” “Yes!” Jason, who was six-foot-three with an eight-pack, actually showed an innocent smile. I tapped his chest, then said: “I can keep you company, but on one condition! After we finish the LEGOs, you have to let me read to you.” This was also what Jason’s mother had instructed—read him company financial reports, political and economic books. It would help him recover his memory faster. Then I heard the shadow’s praise: “Seems like she’s more reliable than Lily. But I need to keep observing.” I started competing with Jason to build LEGOs. Unsurprisingly, I won. Then I took out finance books and history books and started reading to him. The shadow sighed again: “That Lily has reading disabilities. I didn’t expect Luna to be so smart—she even understands finance books and can analyze international situations. I wonder what other surprises she has that I don’t know about.” I smiled secretly. It seemed I’d already won his initial trust. The next day, even Jason’s mother looked at me with new eyes. I had just finished shaving Jason’s beard, making him look much more refreshed. A newly released movie was playing on TV, and I’d explain things to him from time to time. Jason liked pineapple smoothies, so I made them for him. Jason’s mother said: “Since his memory got stuck at age ten, he’s never been this well-behaved.” On the second night, after I finished reading to Jason, he insisted I stay. “My bed is huge. Just sleep next to me.” Looking at his sexy chest muscles under his pajamas, my face turned red. If I didn’t know he hadn’t recovered his memory yet, I might have actually fallen for him. Before turning off the lights, I secretly glanced at his shadow. The shadow was in a good mood: “This Luna really is pretty good. Once my body fully recovers, I’ll definitely give her a grand wedding and make her my real wife.” My face turned even redder. I hugged my blanket and lay down beside him, quickly hearing his even breathing. That night, I slept very well.

Later, while I was taking care of Jason, his shadow kept talking to itself: “How does Luna know I love Italian opera? Looks like she did her homework. Not bad.” “The company’s stock price went up. Looks like the crisis is over.” “She’s just like my mom. When I was little, my mom also made me eat carrots.” “Ah, this carrot cake smells so good! Too bad I’m just a shadow!” Under my care, in less than a month, Jason recovered some of his memories. But his memories were confused. Sometimes he was like a ten-year-old child, sometimes he suddenly became twenty years old and acted like he didn’t know me at all. One afternoon, I had just washed my hair and was blow-drying it when he suddenly had the expression of an adult and asked me: “Who are you? Why are you in my bathroom?” I was startled. I wanted to explain to him, but then I remembered the doctor had warned that he couldn’t be shocked at all during these three months. So I answered: “I’m a new maid your mother hired.” “How come I don’t know about this?” Jason grabbed my wrist and moved closer. I heard his shadow say anxiously: “This idiot, that’s your wife! You’re hurting your wife! Let go of her right now!” I explained to Jason: “My family kicked me out, and Mrs. Grant kindly took me in. Please don’t fire me. I have nowhere else to go…” Jason’s expression softened. After warning me, he let go of my hand and said: “This is my private bathroom. Don’t come here anymore!” After hearing his words, the shadow got even angrier: “If you can’t speak properly, just shut up! She’s your wife. You two will be showering together in the future!” Hearing the shadow’s complaint, images of us showering together quickly flashed through my mind, making my face burn. I said to Jason: “I’m sorry, Mr. Grant. I’m new here and don’t know the rules. I promise I won’t come to your private bathroom again.” After saying that, I hurried away with my head down. Later, during a hospital checkup, the doctor said excitedly: “Mr. Grant is recovering faster than expected! His memory is gradually returning. As for the memory confusion, it should stabilize in about a week!” Jason’s mother gripped my hand excitedly: “Thank you, Luna! After he recovers next week, I’m going to throw a party to show all our competitors that Jason is in top form.” News of Jason’s recovery somehow reached Lily’s ears. One afternoon, Lily suddenly came to see me. She glanced at Jason sitting on the lawn making butterfly specimens, then roughly dragged me to a corner. “I heard Jason is going to recover his memory? He still looks like a ten-year-old idiot to me.” I sneered: “Why do you care so much about my husband?” Lily slapped me across the face: “Your husband?” Lily pointed at my nose and warned me: “If Jason really does recover, you better get lost. I’m the woman Jason truly loves anyway!”

The shadow in the distance saw me getting bullied and roared: “Bitch! How dare you hit my wife! Luna, fight back!” “Once my body and memory fully recover, I’m definitely not marrying you! The only wife I recognize is Luna!” After saying this, he paused: “But speaking of which… after I recover, will I be able to keep my recent memories? What if I forget everything?” “Oh no, what if my body really forgets and thinks Lily was the one who took care of me? What do I do?” “I’m just a shadow! How can I tell myself?” Rubbing my cheek, I felt equally anxious. If Jason really married Lily after this, not only would my island and villa be gone, but Lily would take crazy revenge on me! The shadow quickly said: “I almost forgot about my mom. She already knows Lily is a bitch. And she knows Luna is already my wife.” “No matter whether I remember Luna in the future or not, my mom definitely won’t let me marry Lily.” But unexpectedly, Lily thought of this too. She immediately went to find Mrs. Grant. “You know how much Jason loves me. I didn’t want to break off the engagement before—my parents forced me to! Today I secretly came to see you because I want to tell you that I’ve always loved Jason.” “Please give me another chance. Let me stay by Jason’s side and take care of him!” After speaking, Lily actually knelt down crying. And Mrs. Grant actually seemed to waver. She consulted with me awkwardly: “Luna, you’ve worked hard during this time. But Jason really did love Lily before, and Lily has always been a kind girl. Maybe she really was forced by your parents to break off the engagement.” “How about you just let them be together? Don’t worry, I’ll give you a generous bonus and a villa.” Seeing me nod obediently, the shadow exploded: “Luna, can you have some backbone? Why are you handing over your achievements to someone else?” I sighed. If Jason liked Lily, what was the point of fighting for him? I might as well take the money and quickly leave this place to live a peaceful life. The shadow lamented in frustration: “Forget it, I can’t count on anyone. I’ll just have to work hard to retain these memories myself!” After Lily won over Mrs. Grant, to be safe, she released news to the media early: “My wedding with Mr. Jason Grant will be held next month.” Everyone outside thought it was Lily’s devoted companionship that created Jason’s miraculous recovery. It was time to go to the hospital for rehabilitation treatment again. The doctor said: “This should be the last treatment! If this treatment goes smoothly, Mr. Grant will fully recover!” And the shadow started getting anxious: “Luna, I hope after this treatment, my damn brain can remember everything between us!” I clasped my hands together. I hoped for the same. But none of this was under my control. Lily stood beside me and mocked: “Soon, I’ll become Jason’s real wife.” After a long wait, when Jason walked out of the treatment room, although his appearance hadn’t changed, his eyes were completely different. They were sharp and fierce, with a cold edge. I thought, this is it. He definitely doesn’t remember me. Lily eagerly rushed over: “Jason, you’ve finally recovered! I’m Lily, the one you love most! Do you know how sad and scared I’ve been these three months?” For some reason, I felt a sourness in my heart, even jealousy. Dejected, I was about to leave. The next second, Jason suddenly spoke: “These three months, you were really that sad?”

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When the new intern, Dylan, texted me at midnight for the ninety-ninth time to ask if a 12-point font was larger than a 10-point font, I didn’t lose my temper. Just like the previous ninety-eight times, I calmly typed back: Yes, Dylan. 12 is bigger. Not only did I keep my patience, but I also signed off on his transition from intern to full-time, handing him the only “Outstanding” rating on our team’s annual review. It was a lesson learned the hard way. In my previous life—before the universe reset the board—I had let my exhaustion show. I’d snapped at him, telling him not to make such rookie mistakes again. That single, impatient remark had planted a seed of absolute malice in his chest. It all built up to the day of our corporate retreat, celebrating what was supposed to be a nine-figure deal. But before we loaded onto the bus, the client sent a text that made my blood run cold: Final confirmation letter hits your inbox tomorrow at 3:00 PM. You have exactly one hour to sign and return it. Miss the window, and I’m signing with your competitor. 1 At 2:55 PM the next day, my eyes were glued to the bottom-right corner of my laptop screen. Meredith’s voice, sharp and unyielding, echoed in my head: “Lauren, the final letter goes out at three. I’m giving you exactly sixty minutes. I need the signed, scanned copy back by four, or the deal is dead.” Meredith was known in the industry as the “Time Tyrant.” The rumors weren’t exaggerated; she once tore up a multi-million-dollar contract on the spot because a partner arrived two minutes late to a Zoom call. She didn’t do second chances. For this nine-figure account, our entire agency had bled for six months. Twenty-seven pitch revisions. Five rounds of rigorous data audits. I had personally flown to Chicago three times just to corner her in hotel lobbies for a five-minute pitch. We were at the goal line. There was zero room for error. Before we left for the Catskills retreat, I’d made sure to log the situation with my department manager, Cecilia. But she was too busy laughing at some joke Dylan was telling, waving me off with an irritated flick of her wrist. “Got it, Lauren. Just handle it,” she’d muttered. Left with no choice, I prepared for the worst on my own. Seeing me tucked away in the corner of the lodge’s lounge, Dylan strolled over, a glass of juice in hand. “Hey, Lauren. Everyone’s out by the lake, and you’re in here grinding. You’re making the rest of us look bad.” I didn’t have the bandwidth for him. “Crucial deadline,” I muttered without looking up. But he wouldn’t let it go. He raised his voice, pitching it so the rest of the lobby could hear. “Come on, what work could possibly be more important than the team retreat? Cecilia literally said this weekend is about unwinding. You’re being such a try-hard right now!” Cecilia strolled over, her brow furrowed. Without asking for context, she immediately threw her weight around. “Lauren, shut the laptop. I said this is a retreat. Stop acting like the martyr Director of Marketing. You’re bringing everyone down.” I swallowed the bitter taste in my mouth, forcing my voice to remain even. “Cecilia, Meredith is emailing the final confirmation letter at three. I have to be ready to sign it.” “Meredith?” Cecilia sneered, a smug, self-satisfied look crossing her face. “The deal is practically in the bag. It’s a formality. Why are you acting like the sky is falling? Stop being dramatic, Lauren. The company doesn’t stop spinning just because you take an hour off.” My hands began to tremble with sheer frustration. “You don’t understand how strict she is! One minute late and she pulls the plug!” “Come on, Lauren,” Dylan chimed in, flashing a bright, easygoing smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “If Cecilia says it’s fine, it’s fine. Don’t be a party pooper. Come join us.” He reached out, his hand sweeping toward my laptop lid. I slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch my things!” The rejection seemed to trigger something dark beneath his sunny facade. The warmth drained from Dylan’s face in an instant. Before I could process the shift, he lunged forward, grabbed my laptop with both hands, and slammed it onto the hardwood floor with terrifying, violent force. A sickening crack echoed through the high-ceilinged room. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of black dead zones. The aluminum chassis twisted out of shape, the hinge snapping to reveal the delicate, frayed wiring beneath. My laptop—my entire life’s work for the past six months—was dead. My ears started to ring. I scrambled toward the wreckage, but two of my colleagues grabbed my arms, pinning me back. “Lauren, calm down! Just breathe!” Meanwhile, Dylan had already retreated behind Cecilia, his face a mask of calculated panic. “I didn’t mean to… Lauren, oh my god, I’m so sorry. My hand slipped, I swear…” He looked so fragile, so utterly distraught, that to anyone else, I looked like the aggressor. 2 I wrenched myself free from their grip, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears as I screamed at Cecilia. “That was the only way I could access the server! The Apex account is worth over a hundred million dollars, and the email comes in at three! How am I supposed to review the contract now?!” Cecilia just scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Stop catastrophizing. I told you, the deal is done. It’s a rubber-stamp process. Stop throwing a temper tantrum and ruining everyone’s weekend.” Dylan peeked out from behind her shoulder, his voice dripping with false contrition. “Yeah, Lauren. I said I was sorry. It was an accident. Don’t let it ruin the retreat. That’s what really matters, right?” I didn’t have time to fight them. My mind raced, clawing for a lifeline. The backup. I had saved a compressed project file on my phone just in case. It would be a nightmare to review and sign on a tiny screen, but it was a chance. I reached into my pocket. But Dylan was fast. It was as if he had anticipated my move. Before my fingers could even grip the phone, he snatched it right out of my hand. In one fluid, devastating motion, he flung it across the room. It arced through the air and met the stone fireplace hearth. The glass shattered with a sharp, final pop. Absolute panic clawed at my chest. My laptop was destroyed; my phone was useless. Every bridge to the outside world had been systematically burned. I couldn’t access the email, I couldn’t review the files, and I couldn’t even call Meredith to beg for more time. The grandfather clock in the corner chimed softly. The hands crawled forward. 2:58 PM. Two minutes left. I spun around, looking at the colleagues I had mentored, the people I shared drinks with every Friday. “Please,” I begged, my voice cracking. “Someone lend me a phone. Just one call. I’m begging you.” But they avoided my gaze, shifting their weight uncomfortably. One guy looked down at his hiking boots as if they were the most interesting things in the world. Another stared out the window. A few slipped quietly behind Cecilia’s shadow. “Come on, Lauren, Cecilia’s right here. Don’t make a scene…” someone muttered. “Uh, my phone’s dead.” “Yeah, mine too. I left it in my room to disconnect.” Their excuses were hollow, cowardly. Not a single person would throw me a lifeline. Then, the heavy brass pendulum of the grandfather clock struck the hour. Three deep, echoing chimes. Three o’clock. My heart dropped into a cold, dark abyss. It was over. Six months of sleepless nights, a nine-figure contract, the survival of our team—all evaporating in the mountain air. No. I refused to let it end like this. A sudden surge of adrenaline broke through the despair. Wrenching myself away from the hands trying to hold me back, I bolted toward the front desk. “A computer! Do you have a computer? Let me borrow it, please!” I gasped, grabbing the young clerk’s arm. He blinked in terror, shrinking back. “I… I’m sorry, ma’am. We only have the reservation system computer, and it’s locked in the manager’s office.” “Where’s the manager?” “He’s off-site today. I don’t have the key.” The last ember of hope died. 3 I couldn’t accept it. My brain was screaming: Get out. Get to town. Find a car. I spun on my heel and sprinted toward the double doors of the lodge. We were deep in the wilderness, but if I could just flag down a passing car on the main road, I might still have a chance. But I didn’t even make it to the porch. Two pairs of heavy hands clamped onto my arms, jerking me backward. Cecilia’s loyalists. “Let me go!” I thrashed, but their grip was like iron. Cecilia sauntered over, looking down her nose at me. “You’ve completely lost your mind, Lauren. No one is leaving this resort today. You are going to participate in this team-building event if it kills you.” Dylan slipped his arm through hers, playing the peacemaker. “Cecilia, don’t be too hard on her. Lauren’s just stressed. Maybe… we should just let her cool off by the door?” But even as the words left his mouth, he caught the eyes of the two men holding me and gave them a subtle, vicious nod. They tightened their grip until my shoulders ached. I was pinned against the doorframe, a public spectacle for the entire office. I struggled, screamed, and eventually, swallowed every ounce of pride I had left. I begged. Tears of frustration and sweat stung my eyes. I offered to apologize, to swallow whatever resentment they had, if they would just let me reach a phone. But their faces remained cold, resolute in keeping me trapped. The steady tick-tick-tick of the lodge clock sounded like a countdown. My vision blurred, focusing only on those black hands. 3:40 PM. Twenty minutes left before the offer vanished into thin air. Twenty minutes. The realization burned like acid in my throat. Out of the depth of absolute despair, a raw, primal survival instinct took over. “Get the hell off me!” I roared. I threw my entire weight to the left, ramming my shoulder into the chest of the guy holding my left arm. He gasped, his grip slipping. Before the other could react, I grabbed his wrist and twisted it with everything I had. He cried out, releasing me. Now. I lunged forward, straight at Cecilia. She hadn’t expected me to break free; the smug smirk was still plastered on her face when she saw the fury in my eyes. She tried to step back, but she was too slow. I reached out and ripped her iPhone straight from her manicured hand. “Lauren! Have you lost your mind?!” Cecilia’s shriek pierced the lobby. The entire room erupted into chaos. “Get her!” “Get the phone back!” Dylan shouted, leading a small stampede of colleagues heading straight for me. I clutched the phone to my chest. This was my last stand. Dodging grasping hands and flailing arms, my fingers flew over the screen, dialing Meredith’s number by memory. Someone caught a handful of my hair, ripping my head back in a flash of blinding pain. I ignored it, pressing “Call” with a shaking thumb. Ring… Ring… “Give me my phone!” Cecilia was on top of me. With a burst of desperate strength, I shoved her back and curled into a tight ball on the floor, using my knees and elbows to shield the screen. And then, the line picked up.

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The day I found out I was pregnant was the same day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer. Terrified of shattering my family with the news, I kept the pregnancy a secret. I wanted to use my remaining time to record eighteen years of birthday messages for the child I would never get to watch grow up. But I never expected that through a strange glitch in the recording software, I would end up face-to-face with myself from seven years in the future. “The birthday videos I recorded… she watched them every year, right?” I had asked my future self. “My best friend, Melanie, promised she’d be her godmother. It’s been seven years—did Melanie ever get married? Did anyone stand by her side as maid of honor, the way I wanted to?” The future version of me let out a hollow, bitter laugh at the mention of Melanie’s name. “Melanie didn’t raise your daughter, Cara. Two months after you supposedly died, she married your husband, Jared.” “She deleted every single one of those videos. She told your little girl, ‘Your mother abandoned you.’” “Your daughter is six now. She has no idea you ever existed. She calls Melanie ‘Mommy.’” “Jared tells everyone she’s gentler than you ever were. More understanding. He says Melanie is the woman he should have married in the first place.” “Melanie even kept a journal. In it, she wrote a note thanking you for having terminal cancer, for politely stepping aside so she could take your place.” “Cara… your stomach cancer is a lie. Melanie forged the pathology reports. You aren’t sick at all…” … “Drink this while it’s hot, sweetie. I asked the clinic director to add some extra herbs to help soothe your nerves.” When Melanie pushed open my bedroom door, the tablet’s screen flickered and died, the battery completely drained. The voice of my future self vanished into the sudden silence. I sat frozen against the headboard, my fingers gripping the edge of the duvet so hard my knuckles turned white. The blood drained from my face, leaving me entirely numb. “Why are you so pale? Is your stomach hurting again?” Melanie set the thermos down on the nightstand, leaning over with an expression of frantic worry as she pressed her palm against my forehead. Her hand was warm, but a violent shudder went straight down my spine. Jared and I had been married for three years, and I’d always believed our love was bulletproof. Melanie had been my best friend since high school. We shared everything. She was the one who stood by my side as I picked out my wedding ring. I couldn’t breathe. Just seconds ago, my future self had looked me in the eye and laid bare the ugliest truth: the two people I trusted most in this world had been sleeping together behind my back. And my terminal diagnosis? A brilliant, malicious fiction designed by Melanie herself. “Cara, you’re scaring me. Let me go get Jared.” Melanie’s eyes welled with tears instantly, and she spun toward the door to call him. “I’m fine,” I said, catching her by the wrist. The sheer force of my grip startled even me. Melanie stiffened, a flicker of genuine shock washing over her eyes before she quickly masked it. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I forced a fragile, trembling smile. “Just a sudden wave of nausea. I’m okay now.” Melanie let out a long breath, clasping my hand in hers as her tears spilled over. “You have to fight this, Cara. Miracles happen every day. You can’t give up.” As she spoke, she unscrewed the thermos lid with practiced ease, pouring a thick, dark brown broth into a ceramic bowl. A bitter, medicinal stench mixed with a faint, metallic coppery smell bloomed in the air, instantly suffocating the bedroom. Instinctively, my hand drifted down to my stomach. A tiny heartbeat was beginning to form there. Just eight weeks along. If the woman on that screen was right, then this wellness broth wasn’t a cure. It was a slow-acting poison. “Melanie,” I whispered, staring directly into her tear-filled eyes. “If… if I don’t make it. Promise me you’ll take care of Jared. Okay?” Melanie’s hand jolted. A few drops of the dark brown liquid splashed onto my pristine white sheets. “What are you talking about!” she cried out, her voice cracking with dramatic pain. “I won’t let you die! If you dare abandon me, Cara, I will never forgive you!” If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have wept with gratitude. Her performance was a masterclass. She even timed her tears perfectly, letting one heavy drop fall right onto the back of my hand. “Hey, sweetheart, what’s going on?” The door opened, and Jared stepped in, still wearing his overcoat. He rushed to my side, his eyes filled with a desperate, crushing tenderness as he pulled me into his chest. “Are you hurting? Should we go to the ER?” Leaning against his shoulder, listening to the steady, rhythmic thump of his heart, I felt like I was being buried alive in ice. I tilted my head slightly and caught it—the briefest, most clandestine look exchanged between Jared and Melanie. It was reassuring, intimate, and silent. Melanie gave a nearly imperceptible nod, then looked down to dab her eyes. “Jared, please talk some sense into her,” Melanie murmured. “She’s talking about dying again.” Jared tightened his embrace, his voice thick with a sickeningly sweet devotion. “Don’t talk like that, baby. I don’t care how much it costs. I’ll spend every penny we have to save you.” I watched them play their parts. This beautiful, spacious master bedroom had become a theater, and I was the tragic fool they expected to applaud before my final curtain call. “Okay,” I said softly, gently pushing Jared back. I reached out for the bowl in Melanie’s hand. “I’ll drink it.” But just as the rim touched my lips, I let my wrist go limp. The bowl tilted, spilling the dark broth all over the duvet—while a small portion drained perfectly into the plastic Ziploc bag I’d taped inside my long sleeve. “Oh my god! Be careful!” Melanie gasped, grabbing a box of tissues to dab at the mess. Jared sprang up, heading straight to the closet for clean pajamas. “I’m sorry,” I murmured, looking down at my hands. “I just… I don’t have any strength.” Melanie sighed, glancing at the clock on the wall. “It’s getting late. I should head home and let you rest. I’ll come back tomorrow.” Resting my head back against the pillows, I stared out at the pitch-black sky. “Jared, walk her down. It’s too late for her to walk to her car alone.” Jared grabbed his keys from the dresser, kissing my forehead. “Lie down, sweetie. I’ll be right back.” I nodded sweetly. But the second the front door clicked shut, every ounce of warmth vanished from my face. I threw back the covers, peeled the plastic bag from my sleeve, and hid it safely in my vanity drawer. Then, grabbing my heavy wool coat, I slipped out into the cold night after them. In the shadow of the entryway, under the dim yellow light of the courtyard, Melanie was looking up at Jared. She tilted her chin up, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into a deep, desperate kiss. They clung to each other like star-crossed lovers. I stood behind the glass door of the lobby, my nails digging so deep into my palms that they nearly broke the skin. They kissed for what felt like an eternity. When they finally broke apart, Melanie rested her cheek against his chest, taking his hand and placing it gently over her flat stomach. Jared froze. Then, he gathered her in his arms, lifting her slightly off the ground. Through the chilly night air, his trembling, ecstatic voice carried straight to me: “Are you serious? I’m going to be a dad?” Melanie nodded, her face lit with a radiant smile. “The doctor said it’s almost eight weeks.” A violent ringing filled my ears, deafening and cold. Eight weeks. My baby was eight weeks, too. Jared had held me once, whispering that he never wanted kids because he couldn’t bear to see me suffer through childbirth. It was all a lie. He didn’t hate the idea of a family; he just didn’t want one with me. “I can’t keep lying to Cara,” Jared said, taking a deep breath, his tone suddenly resolute. “I’m telling her tomorrow. We’re getting a divorce.” But Melanie grabbed his lapels, panic flashing across her face. “Are you out of your mind? She has terminal stomach cancer, Jared! The shock of a divorce will kill her!” Jared ran a hand through his hair, his frustration palpable. “Then what do you want me to do? Your belly is going to start showing soon. I won’t let my child be born a bastard.” Melanie shook her head, tears spilling over as if she were the victim here. “Just wait. Wait until she… until she’s gone. We’ve already ruined her life, Jared. Let’s at least give her some peace in her final months. Let it be our penance.” Jared fell silent. He reached out, gently wiping her tears away with his thumb, and sighed with deep adoration. “You’re too good for this world, Melanie.” I stood frozen in the pitch-dark lobby. Blood was pooling in the creases of my palms, but I couldn’t feel the physical pain. I had been betrayed, mocked, and poisoned. And yet, in their twisted narrative, I was the obstacle making the “saintly mistress” suffer. “Stop driving back and forth with that soup every day then,” Jared said, his hand resting on her stomach with a tenderness I’d never seen from him. “You’re pregnant. I can’t have you exhausting yourself. I’ll make up excuses to come over to your place instead.” Melanie leaned into him, humming softly in agreement. I couldn’t listen to another word. I turned around, crept back up the stairs, and slid under the cold sheets of our bed. Don’t worry, future Cara, I thought, staring at the ceiling. Since you gave me this second chance, I won’t let history repeat itself. I’m going to live. And I’m going to watch them burn. The next morning, I went to a different hospital across town. “Ms. Morton, your stomach lining is perfectly healthy. There isn’t a single trace of any tumor or malignancy.” I stared at the medical report in my hands, my vision blurring with hot, angry tears. “But… my previous report said…” I handed over the “diagnostic report” Melanie had given me. The doctor scanned the paper, his brows furrowing into a tight line. “This stamp is forged. It’s a very clever imitation, but our hospital’s official seal has a microscopic watermark in the bottom right corner. This one doesn’t have it.” I took a deep, steadying breath, slipped the forged report back into my bag, and walked out of the clinic. The crisp autumn air hit my face, but for the first time in months, my mind was crystal clear. As soon as I got into my car, my phone rang. It was Diana, a college friend who worked in toxicology at the state lab. “Cara, the results for the soup sample you sent over came back.” Her voice was heavy. “There’s definitely something in it. Aside from some mild sedatives, there’s a chemical compound designed to induce severe gastric spasms and chronic vomiting. If taken long-term, it alters specific blood markers, perfectly mimicking the symptoms and pathology of terminal gastric cancer.” My grip on the steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white. “I understand. Thank you, Diana. Keep that lab report safe for me.” I hung up, slumped over the steering wheel, and let the tears fall. I wept for the three years of devotion I had wasted on a monster, and for the lifetime of sisterhood I had foolishly believed in. But I gave myself exactly ten minutes. When the timer went off, I wiped my face, retouched my makeup in the rearview mirror, and drove home. The moment I stepped through the front door, Jared rushed out of the living room, barefoot and frantic. The relief on his face was almost convincing. “Cara! Where the hell have you been!” He threw his arms around me, pulling me so close it bruised my ribs. I could feel his body trembling, his voice cracking with emotion. “Do you have any idea how terrified I was? Why weren’t you answering your phone?” “I called Melanie, and she said she hadn’t heard from you either. I was out of my mind, Cara… I thought you did something crazy…” He cupped my face, his eyes red and brimming with tears. His panic was a masterpiece of acting. “Please, baby. Promise me you won’t do this to me again.” I watched him perform. Looking at the face I used to adore, I felt absolutely nothing. Just a vast, cold emptiness. If I hadn’t stood in the shadows last night, I would have fallen for this routine for the rest of my short life. I took a slow breath and patted his back with a dry chuckle. “Come on. Since when do you cry like this?” I slipped out of his embrace and sat down on the sofa, keeping my voice soft and detached. “Jared, when I’m gone, you’re going to have to learn how to take care of yourself.” Jared’s face paled. He rushed over and knelt on the hardwood floor in front of me. “Don’t say that! You’re going to beat this, Cara. We’re going to grow old together.” I looked into his eyes and smiled. “Jared, while I’m still strong enough to walk around… I want to throw a living funeral.” Jared blinked, completely thrown off. “A what?” “A living funeral,” I said, enunciating every word clearly. “I don’t want to be lying in a casket, unable to see who came to say goodbye. I want to look everyone in the eye and say it myself while I still can.” A flicker of unease crossed Jared’s eyes before he masked it, squeezing my hands. “Okay. If that’s what you want, sweetheart, we’ll do it.” I smiled warmly, squeezing back. “Thank you. I want Melanie to help with the venue and decorations. Is that okay?” He lowered his gaze, hiding the brief panic in his eyes. “Of course. She’s your best friend. She’d love to do that for you.” When Melanie arrived at our place, she grabbed my hands, her eyes instantly overflowing. “A living funeral? Cara, please don’t think like that! You’re going to get through this!” I leaned back against the cushions, looking frail. “Melanie, it’s my final wish. I’m running out of time. No one knows my taste better than you. I won’t trust anyone else with this.” Melanie choked back a sob and nodded, though her eyes darted briefly to Jared standing near the kitchen counter. From that day on, Melanie became a permanent fixture in our house. Under the guise of planning my final farewell, she and Jared spent every waking hour together. On the first day, we went to a high-end florist. I pointed to a picture of imported white bellflowers, mentioning how much I loved their symbolism of unchanging love. Jared frowned. “Bellflowers are too plain. And they wilt too fast.” But a second later, he pointed to a massive display of expensive, deep pink Freud roses. “Wrap those up,” he told the florist. “Ninety-nine of them.” I thought they were for me, but he spun around and handed the bouquet to Melanie. “Melanie’s been working so hard for us. These roses are hypoallergenic. Great for pregnant… I mean, great for sleep. Girls love flowers in their rooms.” Melanie blushed, accepting them with a playful roll of her eyes. On the second day, we were finalizing the menu for the reception. Sick and exhausted from the “poison” in my system, I murmured that I’d love some of that special wild mushroom risotto from the bistro downtown. Jared glanced at his phone, sighing. “Cara, downtown is an hour away with traffic. I have a major meeting this afternoon. Can I just DoorDash you something?” I didn’t say anything, just nodded. But half an hour later, I walked past the kitchen and saw a pot of organic bone broth and bird’s nest simmering on the stove. Jared was carefully adjusting the flame, whispering to Melanie in the hallway, “You’ve been looking pale lately, Melanie. I made this premium wellness soup for you. You have to finish every drop.” On the third day, we drove up to a cemetery in the foothills. The wind was freezing at that elevation. Jared immediately ushered Melanie into the heated VIP lounge. “You have a delicate constitution, Mel. Stay in here and have some hot tea.” Then he turned to me, his tone dry and businesslike. “Cara, you need to choose your own plot. Let’s head up the ridge.” I stood in my thin wool coat, shivering in the biting wind for an hour, while he lazily pointed at various headstones, impatient to get back inside. The day of the funeral, the hall was packed. The decorations felt less like a funeral and more like an intimate celebration of life. Amidst the sea of white chrysanthemums, Jared stood by my side in a tailored black suit, his expression a picture-perfect mask of grief. Melanie stood right behind us in the family section, her eyes puffy and red, looking as though she might collapse at any moment. As the guests arrived, many broke into tears upon seeing my pale, thin frame. “Thank you all for coming today,” I spoke into the microphone, taking Jared’s hand as I walked up to the small stage. The spotlights caught us, and I felt his palm slick with nervous sweat. “This is my farewell. Before I go, I want to take a moment to thank the two most important people in my life.” I looked toward Melanie and gestured with a warm smile. “Melanie, please, come up here.” Under the watchful eyes of our friends and family, I held my husband’s hand on my right, and my best friend’s on my left. “First, I want to thank my husband. The day I got my diagnosis, he drove all over the city just to find the roasted chestnuts I was craving.” Soft sniffling rippled through the crowd. Jared squeezed my hand, looking down at me with absolute, fabricated devotion. “Second, I want to thank Melanie. When she found out I was sick, she stayed up late every night researching treatments, booking specialists, and comforting me.” Melanie covered her mouth, a perfect tear sliding down her cheek. “Third, I thank Jared again. No matter how sick or gaunt I became, he never turned away. He made sure I had warm broth every single night.” “And finally, I thank Melanie. She promised me that if I leave this world, she will live well on my behalf, and take care of the man I love.” With every word, the room grew more emotional. Several of our closest friends were openly sobbing. I saw the subtle tension drain from Jared’s and Melanie’s shoulders. They thought this was the perfect handoff. They thought they had successfully fooled me to my grave. Then, I paused. The warm smile melted from my face, piece by piece. “But today, on this very special occasion, I have one final gift for the most important people in my life.” I turned around, facing Jared. I leaned in, standing on my tiptoes to whisper in his ear, in a voice meant only for him: “Jared, let’s talk about our divorce.” Jared’s body went completely rigid, his features freezing in place. Before he could react, I added in a soft, mocking purr: “You sign over everything, and I keep Melanie’s pregnancy a secret.” Jared’s pupils dilated with sheer terror. I took a step back, pulling my hands free from both of them. I raised the microphone, looking out at the crowd, my voice suddenly clear and cutting through the silence. “And now, everyone, please look at the screen behind me…”

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I ran into Denis at the clinic during my prenatal checkup. That morning, he had slipped out of the house early, claiming a sudden crisis at the office. Yet here he was, hovering over his foster sister, Susie, guiding her with a protective tenderness that made my chest tighten. He was completely devoted to her early pregnancy, while I—five months pregnant with his child—stood there entirely alone. I walked up to him and handed him a slip of paper. “Since you’re here, sign this.” Guilt flickered across his face. He quickly signed the paper without even looking at the content, eager to explain himself. “Susie’s husband is out of town on business, and she couldn’t handle the checkup alone. I only lied about work because I didn’t want you throwing another tantrum like last time.” He was terrified of Susie being inconvenienced for a single morning, but perfectly fine leaving his five-month-pregnant wife to navigate a crowded hospital alone. It was laughable. But instead of screaming or crying like I used to, I simply took the paper back, turned, and walked away. Startled by my quietness, Denis called out after me. “Wait, Nicole. What did I just sign?” I paused, a bitter smile touching my lips. “An abortion consent form.” 1 Denis froze, but before he could process my words, Susie’s hand slid around his arm. She looked at me, her eyes wide with carefully manufactured disapproval. “Nicole, I know you’re upset that Denis is here with me, but you shouldn’t make sick jokes like that!” As always, one word from Susie was all it took to dismantle Denis’s doubts. His furrowed brow smoothed out, and he gave me a weary, patronizing sigh. “Honey, stop playing games. Let me finish helping Susie, and I promise I’ll come straight home to be with you.” Five years. One thousand, eight hundred and twenty-five days. I had heard variations of that promise thousands of times. On our first anniversary, he said, “Once I get back from taking Susie on her birthday trip, I’ll take you to see the sunrise in Maine.” On my first birthday after we married, he said, “Let me finish helping Susie move, and I’ll be home to blow out your candles.” The night I was t-boned by a truck and rushed to the ER in an ambulance, he said, “Once Susie’s fever breaks, I’ll drive over.” The truth was, those promises never came to fruition. Susie always had a new crisis, a new demand. And in Denis’s life, I was always a secondary thought, forever relegated to the back of the line. I clutched the signed form, spun on my heel, and walked back toward the OB-GYN ward. Waiting for my name to be called, I rested my palm on my belly. One last time, I whispered to myself. I will give him one last chance. If he came looking for me before they called my name, I would walk away and keep the baby. Minutes bled into an hour. Finally, the PA system crackled to life. “Number thirty-two. Nicole Kelly.” The page repeated three times. The hallway remained empty. I laughed quietly at my own foolish hope. Standing up, I slipped my wedding ring off my finger and tossed it into the trash can. Then, I pulled out my phone and sent a pre-scheduled email to HR: I am officially applying for the relocation to our London branch. … By nightfall, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Denis: It’s late. Why aren’t you home yet? Clutching my empty, aching stomach, my face pale, I got into a cab and typed back: On my way. The driver, a warm-hearted older man, noticed my shivering. “Rough night, miss? You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Why didn’t your husband pick you up?” “He’s busy,” I replied quietly. When Susie called, he always had time. But when I called him terrified because a stranger was tailing me down a dark street on my way home from work, he told me to call an Uber. “There are streetlights everywhere, Nicole. Stop being paranoid.” I never asked him for a ride again. The driver shook his head in disapproval. “No man should be too busy to pick up his sick wife.” I stared out the window. It began to rain, blurring the city lights. As we neared my building, I sent Denis one last text: [It’s pouring and I don’t have an umbrella. Can you meet me at the gate with one?] His reply was instant: [On my way down.] The cab pulled up. I asked the driver to wait a minute. But one minute became ten. Ten became thirty. Denis never showed. I dialed his number. Seven times it went straight to voicemail. On the eighth, he finally picked up. “Where are you?” I asked. “The thunder scared Susie,” he said, his voice entirely casual. “I had to drive over to keep her company.” “Then how am I supposed to get inside?” A sudden, dramatic gasp echoed from his end of the line, pulling his attention away. “I have to go,” he said hurriedly. “You’re always healthy, Nicole. A little rain won’t hurt you. I’ll make you some warm ginger tea when I get back—” The call went dead before he even finished the sentence. The driver gave me a look of pure pity. He handed me a spare umbrella. “Take it, kid. Go get some rest.” I held my phone tight, a dull, heavy ache settling in my chest. I transferred an extra hundred dollars to the driver, took the umbrella, and stepped out into the cold rain. 2 I stepped into the dark apartment and flicked on the light. Sitting on the entryway console was a luxury maternity lumbar massager. I recognized the brand immediately. I had looked at it dozens of times during my first trimester but couldn’t bring myself to spend the eight hundred dollars. Back when my back was aching constantly, I had complained to Denis. He had merely kissed my forehead and said, “Hang in there, sweetie. It’ll pass.” And now, here it was. But I didn’t need it anymore. I picked up the box and slid it into the bottom of the closet. I didn’t leave the hallway light on for him like I usually did. I just went straight to bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, someone shook my shoulder roughly. “Nicole! Where is the package I left in the entryway? Did you take it?” My head throbbed. I blinked through the darkness, disoriented. “What?” Denis’s voice flared with irritation. “The maternity massager. Did you hide the massager I bought for Susie? She’s in her first trimester and her back is killing her. Why do you always have to take things meant for her?” My mind cleared instantly. Of course. It wasn’t for me. I got out of bed, ignored his glaring eyes, walked over to the closet, and handed him the box. “Don’t worry. I didn’t touch it.” I remembered our third anniversary. He had come home with a delicate silver heart pendant. Assuming it was for me, I had eagerly tried it on and turned to show him. His face had stripped of all warmth. “Take it off. It’s not yours.” I froze, hurt paralyzing me. He didn’t wait. He reached out and snatched it from my neck, leaving a red scratch across my collarbone. Later, while applying ointment to the scratch with guilt-ridden hands, I asked him quietly, “Who was it for?” The tenderness immediately returned to his eyes. “Susie. She’s been wanting it for months. It cost me half my monthly bonus.” I waited for him to mention my gift. When he didn’t, I asked, “And what did you get me for our anniversary?” He blinked, then casually pulled a cheap pink claw clip from his briefcase. “Here. This is for you.” I found out later that the clip was a free gift-with-purchase. Susie didn’t want it, so it became mine. The signs of his indifference had always been there. I had just chosen to ignore them. Suddenly, a paper bag was shoved into my hands. Having put away the massager, Denis guided me toward the sofa. “I brought you some warm ginger tea. You got wet in the rain. Drink it so you don’t catch a cold.” I set the bag on the coffee table. “I’m not hungry.” He opened the container anyway, frowning. “You’re eating for two, Nicole. Don’t be childish. Do it for the baby.” A bitter smile touched my lips. My stomach was already flatter, but he hadn’t even looked closely enough to notice. When we first got married, if I so much as nicked my finger slicing an apple, he would panic, rushing to find antiseptic and band-aids. By the time he was done fussing, the scratch would already be healed. I used to laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck, telling him he was overreacting. “I can never overreact when it comes to you,” he’d whisper, holding me tight. “You’re my whole world.” But promises are cheap. He had a foster sister—his secret first love. They had dated in secret for eight years before his parents found out and forced them apart. To him, I was merely the safe, acceptable compromise. “Drink it while it’s hot,” he urged, pressing the thermos into my hands. To avoid an argument, I took a few sips. But within minutes, my chest tightened. My airway began to close, and hives erupted across my arms. I grabbed his wrist. “What… what did you put in this?” His eyes widened in panic. “Just brown sugar and ginger… and a little peanut powder for flavor. Nicole, what’s happening?” “I’m calling 911! Stay with me, Nicole, please…” His hands shook violently as he held me. In my fading consciousness, I realized it had been years since I had seen him this terrified for me. The ambulance arrived, and they loaded me onto a gurney. But just as Denis was about to climb in after me, his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone he had set only for Susie. He hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. Susie’s sobbing voice filled the air. “Denis, I cut my wrist on a glass bottle! There’s so much blood… please help me…” Without a second thought, he stepped back from the ambulance. “I’m coming, Susie. Don’t panic. Apply pressure to the wound…” The paramedics yelled at him, but he was already running toward his car. My gasping, suffocating state wasn’t enough to make him stay. I spent the night in the ICU under an oxygen tent, battling severe anaphylactic shock. The next morning, I opened my eyes to see my mother sitting by my bedside, her eyes red from crying. “When the hospital called, I thought my heart was going to stop,” she whispered, stroking my forehead. “Everyone knows you have a lethal peanut allergy, Nicole. How could you have ingested it?” Before I could answer, the door swung open. Denis walked in, ushering a tearful Susie inside. 3 I looked at Denis. “Did you know there was peanut powder in that tea?” Susie stepped forward, sobbing. “I’m so sorry, Nicole! Please don’t blame Denis. It’s my fault!” “I read an article saying peanuts are great for prenatal development, so I suggested he grind some into the tea. I didn’t mean to…” I closed my eyes, forcing down the rage. “You knew I was severely allergic. You put it in there anyway. Are you trying to kill me?” Before Susie could even whimper, Denis shielded her behind his back. “Nicole, that’s enough. Susie is gentle and kind. She was only trying to help.” My mother, unable to contain her fury, stood up and slapped Denis hard across the face. “How dare you?” she spat, her voice trembling. “Nicole is your wife! She was carrying your child, and you’re defending this girl over her?” Denis touched his reddened cheek, his first instinct to defend her: “Mom, Susie isn’t an outsider. She’s my… she’s my sister.” Susie rushed to touch his face, glaring at my mother. “How could you hit him? We’re just trying to help!” My mother’s anger boiled over. “Save the fragile little victim act, you manipulative snake—” But in the next second, Denis shoved my mother away to protect Susie. My mother lost her footing, her head striking the sharp metal corner of the bedside table. Blood began to seep onto her hair. Denis stood over us, his eyes cold as he kept Susie behind him. “Mom, you can hit me, and I’ll take it. But Susie is pregnant. No matter what, you do not put your hands on her.” “You protect your own, and I protect mine. You care about Nicole; I care about Susie.” He cast a freezing look at me. “I’ll come back when you’ve calmed down.” With that, he guided Susie out of the room. I scrambled out of bed, weeping as I called for a nurse. As my mother’s head was being bandaged, my chest ached with a physical, suffocating regret. I regretted every single second of the five years I had wasted on him. My mother tried to comfort me. “I’m fine, sweetie. Don’t cry. It’s bad for the baby.” I wiped my tears. “There is no baby, Mom.” She froze. “What?” “I had an abortion three days ago. And I’m divorcing him.” After a long silence, my mother pulled me into her arms, gently patting my back. “Whatever you decide, I’m with you. You have me, Nicole. Always.” I buried my face in her shoulder and finally wept for the marriage that had died long before the child did. Three days later, my relocation request was approved. I booked a one-way ticket to London for that very night. 4 I went back to the apartment to pack my things. To my surprise, Denis was actually home. He was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, simmering a pot of soup. In the living room, Susie was lounging on my custom-ordered sofa, wearing my favorite silk robe, eating chips while watching a reality show. When she saw me, she didn’t bother to sit up. “Oh, hey, Nicole. I’d get up, but my doctor said I need bed rest. Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge.” She acted more like the mistress of the house than I ever had. Denis emerged from the kitchen, acting as if nothing had happened. “You’re discharged? Why didn’t you call me? I would have picked you up.” “I made some nourishing soup for Susie. There’ll be leftovers if you want some.” I ignored him and went upstairs to pack. Behind me, I heard Susie’s whiny pout. “Denis, is Nicole mad at me?” “Don’t worry about it,” he replied easily. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. She’ll get over it in a few days.” That was his signature move: the cold shoulder, waiting for me to exhaust my own anger so he could pretend nothing had happened. But today, the cycle ended. When I rolled my suitcases downstairs, Denis was blow-cooling a spoonful of soup for Susie. He froze when he saw the luggage. “Why are you packing? Where are you going?” “A business trip,” I said flatly. He frowned. “You’re five months pregnant. Why is your company making you travel?” Then, his eyes drifted down to my midsection. He stiffened. “Your stomach… it’s…” Before he could finish, a sharp crash shattered the silence. Susie had knocked her bowl off the side table. Hot soup and grease splattered across the handmade rug I had spent weeks picking out. Susie wailed in pain. Denis immediately scooped her up, his face pale with worry. As he rushed past me, he threw a command over his shoulder: “Don’t leave yet. Wait for me to get back. My firm has a partnership with your agency—I’ll make them cancel your trip.” I didn’t answer. He didn’t care. He ran out the door with her in his arms. I took one last look at the place we had shared for three years. On the mantel sat a framed photo of Denis and Susie. In the display cabinet were matching mugs they had painted together. The gallery wall was filled with photos of their trips. My entire existence in this apartment fit into two small suitcases. I closed the door, walked out, and hailed a cab to the airport. When my flight landed in London, I turned on my phone. It exploded with hundreds of missed calls and texts from Denis.

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The exact moment my son was about to slide the gold band onto his bride’s finger, I burst through the chapel doors, still smelling of river silt and death. I marched straight up the altar, snatched the ring from his hand, and pushed the bride aside. “The wedding is off,” I announced, my voice cutting through the soft organ music. “My son is not getting married.” Ted stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. “Mom, what the hell are you doing? Gloria and I went through absolute hell to get here. When you nearly drowned in the reservoir last summer, she was the one who performed CPR and saved your life!” Roger, my husband, hurried up the steps, his brow furrowed as he grabbed my arm. “Ruth, have you lost your mind? Gloria just paid off our half-million-dollar debt. How can you be this ungrateful?” Gloria, her eyes turning red, reached into her satin bridal clutch and pulled out a box of pain-relief patches. “Mom… I know your back is acting up from the recovery dive today. I always keep these on hand for you. I didn’t ask for a single dime in a prenup, and I didn’t care about having my name on the house deed. If I did something wrong, please tell me.” The guests in the pews began to whisper, their judging glares pinning me as the classic, bitter mother-in-law. Gloria knelt before me, lifting a cup of warm chamomile tea she had taken from the reception table. “Mom, whatever it is, I promise I’ll change.” I looked down at the steaming tea. With a swift kick, I sent the porcelain cup shattering across the altar. “I said the wedding is off,” I cold-shouldered her. “You will never set foot in my house.” 1 Ted grabbed my hands, his face a mask of desperation. “Mom, please. It took us so long to build this life. You approved of her. You gave us your blessing!” I thought of the cold, stiff body I had just dragged out of the dark river currents an hour ago. A violent, hollow ache bloomed in my chest. I forced myself to shove my son away. “If you marry her,” I said, each word heavy as stone, “you no longer have a mother.” Ted froze, utterly shattered. Gloria let go of her bouquet, gathered the heavy tulle of her white gown, and dropped to her knees on the floor. “Mom, tell me what I did. I love Ted with all my heart. Please don’t cast me out.” One of our old neighbors stood up from his pew to play peacemaker. “Ruth, this is crossing the line. We’ve all seen how much Gloria does for your family. She’s treated you and Roger like her own parents.” It was true. Gloria was an orphan, and from the moment Ted brought her home, she had showered us with devotion. When Roger was hospitalized last winter, she stayed up for three nights straight coordinating with specialists. My job as a search-and-recovery diver took a brutal physical toll on me; Gloria was always there with expensive therapeutic supplements and massages. When Ted was struggling to find a job, she used her connections to secure him a position, slowly lifting our family out of a dark financial hole. Every holiday, she made sure we had the finest gifts, ensuring we kept our heads high in front of our peers. The neighbor shook his head at my silence. “You’re acting like a monster, Ruth.” I glared back at him. “If she’s so perfect, take her into your own home.” Roger’s temper finally flared. “You’ve ruined everything, Ruth! On our son’s wedding day, you’ve made us a public joke!” Gloria wept, her delicate updo falling apart as she bowed her head to the floor. “Mom, I beg you! Don’t do this. Roger, please talk to her. Don’t let her tear us apart.” I kicked her away from me. “Stop howling. Nobody died. Get your miserable face out of my sight!” Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted at the chapel entrance. My chest tightened. It was them. Frankie, a notorious local loan shark, strolled down the aisle with two burly men behind him. “Well, look at this. I figured a wedding would bring in plenty of cash gifts. Time to settle the interest, Ted.” Gloria stood up, her face tear-stained as she shielded me. “We paid you the settlement last week—” Frankie sneered. “That was the principal, sweetheart. This is the interest.” While they were distracted, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911. Ted lunged at me, his voice cracked with panic. “Mom, what are you doing? Why are you calling the police? If they investigate me, my life is over!” The massive debt Ted owed wasn’t a family expense; it was the result of his underground sports gambling. For months, I had stayed silent, terrified of ruining his future. But today, looking at the chapel doors, I knew I had to do it. If I didn’t call the law now, our family would be entirely consumed. Gloria’s expression shifted into something sharp and desperate. “Mom, I can cover the interest. We don’t need the police. Think about Ted’s career!” I slapped Ted’s hand away from my phone, my gaze icy. Ted looked at me with pure betrayal before pulling Gloria into his arms. The police arrived within minutes. Frankie and his thugs were arrested for extortion, and Ted was led away in handcuffs for his involvement in the illegal gambling ring. Gloria chased the squad car down the asphalt road, tripping over her long train, falling repeatedly until her white silk dress was stained with mud and blood. When she dragged herself back to us, her eyes were swollen and her voice was a raspy whisper. “Dad, Mom… Ted is gone, but I’ll stay. I will take care of you. From now on, you are my real parents.” I spat on the ground near her feet. “You’re a jinx. Get the hell away from us.” 2 I went back to the altar, apologized to the remaining guests, and returned every single cash gift. When we finally unlocked our front door at home, Roger’s rage exploded. “What is wrong with you?” he screamed, smashing a glass against the kitchen counter. “You put our own son in a cell! You threw away a girl who would have laid down her life for us! You’ve destroyed this family!” I sat on the sofa, silent, staring at the wall. The image of that cold, gray skin beneath the river water refused to leave my mind. Roger and I had been married for nearly thirty years, and he had never once raised his voice at me like this. “If you think she’s so perfect,” I said quietly, “go live with her.” The doorbell rang, followed by a neighbor’s frantic shouting through the screen door. “Ruth! Get down here! You need to see what your daughter-in-law is doing!” I walked to the window and looked down. Gloria was crawling up our suburban driveway. At every step, she bowed her head to the pavement, clutching a bag of groceries. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered on the lawn, filming her on their phones and whispering. After what felt like hours, her raspy voice echoed through our front door. “Mom… I know I must have displeased you. Please, forgive me.” The fabric over her knees was torn, soaked through with blood and dirt. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her face was raw from crying. I opened the door. Gloria’s eyes flickered with a desperate hope. “Mom…” I picked up a bucket of ice water I had prepared and threw it directly into her face. “You’re a curse,” I said. “Get off my property. My family wants nothing to do with you.” The freezing water drenched her white clothes, making her body shiver violently, her teeth clicking together. Yet, she remained kneeling. “Mom, no matter how you treat me, I will wait for Ted.” Roger tugged at my sleeve, whispering frantically in my ear. “Ruth, that is enough. Whatever she did, she’s paid for it. This is torture.” I threw him a glare so venomous he immediately stepped back. Gloria kept her head bowed, her posture suggesting she would freeze to death on our porch before she gave up. I turned back into the house, walked to the trash bin, and pulled out a dry wreath of decorative wild roses—thick with long, jagged thorns—that we had discarded weeks ago. I tossed them onto the concrete right in front of her. “You want to show your sincerity?” I sneered. “Kneel on those.” Gloria’s face lost every ounce of color. She stared at the sharp, woody thorns, bit her lip, and shifted her weight directly onto them. The thorns pierced her thin trousers, sinking deep into her skin. Crimson blood bloomed across the wet white fabric. Sweat beaded on her forehead as she trembled, barely keeping herself upright. I pulled out my phone, opened a decibel meter app, and tossed it onto the porch beside her. “Make sure your groveling hits at least fifty decibels. I want the whole neighborhood to hear your apology.” With that, I stepped back and slammed the heavy oak door shut. By late afternoon, Roger ran into the living room, holding his phone like it was a live grenade. “Ruth, you’re trending. The local forums are tearing you apart. Look at the comments.” 3 Roger held the screen in front of my face. “She made her kneel on thorns? This is literal domestic abuse. The poor girl’s face is completely white.” “Didn’t this girl pay off their family debts? What a nightmare of a mother-in-law.” Outside, a heavy fist pounded on our door. “Ruth! Gloria collapsed!” Through the peephole, I saw her slumped over on the porch, her knees covered in deep punctures, blood pooling on the concrete. I didn’t unlock the door. Eventually, the outraged onlookers lifted her up and rushed her to the local clinic. Roger peered through the blinds, his expression filled with guilt. “Ruth…” “She brought this on herself,” I replied coldly. “If you feel so bad for her, we can file for divorce tomorrow.” I walked into the bedroom and locked the door behind me. The next thing I remember, I was waking up to the smell of gasoline and cold wind. I was outdoors, tied tightly to a wooden post over a tall pile of dry firewood. A crowd of people wearing cheap plastic masks surrounded me in a tight circle. In the center stood a man holding a megaphone. “Welcome, everyone, to the Court of Public Justice.” My heart hammered against my ribs as I struggled against the rough hemp rope chafing my wrists. The man with the megaphone began listing my crimes to the crowd: ruining my son’s wedding, sending him to a holding cell, and torturing my devoted daughter-in-law until she was hospitalized. Muttered agreements rippled through the masked crowd. “She’s a psychopath. Classic codependent mother.” “She’s a recovery diver. She spends too much time with corpses. She’s probably lost her mind.” The host stepped forward, holding a lit torch close to my face so the cameras could capture my panic. “Remember, we are cleansing our community of monsters!” He tossed the torch into the dry wood beneath me. Flame caught instantly, roaring up the pine logs. The heat hit me in a wave, scorching my skin. I screamed, the smoke filling my lungs. Just as the fire began to lick at my shoes, the distant, rising wail of police sirens cut through the night. “Run! The cops!” The self-righteous crowd dissolved into chaos, scattering into the dark woods. Through the thick smoke, a figure rushed toward the flames. It was Gloria. Ignoring her bandaged knees, she tore at the burning ropes, pulling me down from the platform just as the structure collapsed. “Mom! Are you okay? I’m sorry I took so long to find you,” she sobbed, dragging me to safety. Roger arrived seconds later, panting, and helped support my weight. As soon as the smoke cleared from my throat and I felt my legs under me, I grabbed a discarded wooden branch from the dirt and struck Gloria across her shoulder. “You bring nothing but trouble!” I screamed. “It’s because of you I was targeted!” An officer rushed over to pull me back. “Ma’am, stop! If it weren’t for your daughter-in-law tracking your phone’s signal, we wouldn’t have found you in time.” Roger joined in, pleading with me. “Ruth, please. Gloria literally discharged herself from the clinic to hunt for you. Her knees are permanently ruined because of this.” Gloria kept her head low, her shoulders shaking as she wept. “I’m sorry, Mom. If my presence causes you this much pain, I will never show my face to you again.” She wiped her tears, her voice small. “But your home isn’t safe anymore. The internet knows where you live. I have a small condo downtown. You and Dad should stay there for now.” I spat on the ground near her shoes. “Save your crocodile tears.” 4 After the madness of the kidnapping settled, I returned to my shift at the search-and-recovery unit. The moment I walked into the station, the atmosphere turned freezing. My coworkers avoided my gaze. During lunch, they sat at the far end of the cafeteria, whispering whenever I looked up. By mid-afternoon, the captain called me into his office. “Ruth, you’re a senior diver here,” he said, staring at his coffee mug. “This isn’t the old days when we operated as independent volunteers. We represent the county now. Your personal affairs… they’re reflecting poorly on the department.” I understood. The video of the wedding and the porch incident had gone viral. As I walked out of his office, a younger diver stepped into my path, looking deeply conflicted. “Ruth… your daughter-in-law is out front.” He looked at me with genuine disappointment. “You’ve always been so patient with us when we made mistakes on deep dives. Why are you acting like this toward her?” I ignored him and pushed past. Gloria was standing near the front desk, distributing boxes of pastries and coffee to the on-duty staff. I marched over, grabbed the boxes, and threw them into the industrial trash bin near the door. “Who gave you permission to come here? Get out!” A colleague stepped in to shield her. I pointed a finger at his face. “Those things are poison! Eat them if you want to end up in a body bag!” Gloria stood frozen, looking small and humiliated. The colleague gently guided her out of the lobby to spare her further public shame. Before I could even catch my breath, the station alarm blared. A dispatcher radioed in: a body had been spotted caught in the rapids of the Blackwood River. The Blackwood was notorious for its unpredictable undercurrents. Most of the team hesitated, but with the body about to wash down the spillway, I threw on my dry suit and oxygen rig, diving straight into the freezing, turbulent water. “Mom!” Gloria’s voice screamed from the shoreline. I fought the current, reached the submerged debris, and secured the recovery harness around the victim’s waist. But as I turned to swim back, a sudden surge slammed me against a submerged boulder. A sharp, white-hot pain flared in my lower back—my old spinal injury flared up instantly. My limbs went entirely numb. As the dark water began to drag me down, a hand gripped my safety harness, pulling my head above the surface. Gloria, drenched and pale, dragged me onto the muddy bank. She collapsed beside me, coughing up river water. My colleagues rushed over, wrapping us in emergency blankets. One of them looked at me, shaking his head. “She jumped in the second she saw you go under, Ruth. We couldn’t even grab her. You have no idea how lucky you are to have her.” I gritted my teeth against the agony in my back. “If you want this curse, you can have her.” Gloria broke down, her cries raw and desperate. “Mom, what did I do? Why do you hate me so much? Just tell me what to do to make you happy!” The rest of the team looked at me with disgust. “She paid off your son’s debts, Ruth. She just saved your life twice.” Gloria dragged herself over, kneeling in the wet gravel before me. “Mom, I’m sorry I lost my temper. Please, if it makes you feel better, just hit me.” I didn’t hesitate. I slapped her across the face with all the strength I had left. The force of the blow knocked her sideways. Her head struck a jagged rock on the shoreline, and her body went completely limp. My coworkers gasped, rushing forward to check her pulse while someone shouted for an ambulance. By the time we reached the hospital, Roger had arrived, his face pale with anxiety. “Ruth, when does this end? What did that girl ever do to deserve this?” I watched the red light of the emergency room through the glass partition. Without a word, I reached into my coat pocket, pulled out a folded piece of paper, and slapped it against his chest. Roger unfolded it. As his eyes scanned the text, the color drained from his face. He clutched his left arm, gasping for breath, and collapsed onto the linoleum floor.

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The day the Harrington Group collapsed into bankruptcy, my husband, Alex, was pushed off a cliff to protect me. His body was never found. To pay off the mountain of debt he left behind, I had no choice but to step onto the stage of a dim, neon-lit underground club. Three years later, as I stood in the center of that stage wearing nothing but a cheap silk slip dress, a familiar voice cut through the rowdy, whistling crowd. My former best friend, Camille, stood right in front of the stage, pressing a hand over her mouth to suppress a giggle. “Oh, Alex, you won again!” “Who would’ve thought Elsa loved money so much that she’d actually survive in a place like this for three whole years just for you?” I froze on the stage, my eyes locked onto Alex—alive, breathing, and standing right there. With a completely indifferent expression, he stepped up and snatched the cash right out of my hand. “Elsa, I knew you only loved me for my money. It was wrong of Camille and me to make that bet, and I’m sorry for faking my death and bankruptcy to test you.” “But you’re still a Harrington. How could you humiliate yourself—and me—by exposing yourself in a filthy place like this?” “Whatever. I know you did it for me. But let’s not keep this dirty money.” He tossed the bills into the air, letting them flutter down like dry leaves. My chest felt hollowed out, as if a rusted blade had carved out my heart. A cruel, fleeting prank to him. But for me, it meant falling from my heights as the principal dancer of a world-renowned contemporary ballet company to a cheap novelty act, dancing for the amusement of drunk strangers. What he didn’t know was that I had already paid off his supposed massive debts. And the money he just threw away? It wasn’t dirty. It was every cent I had saved—now that I was dying of stomach cancer—to buy a quiet burial plot where I hoped we could rest together. … My mind went entirely blank. Instinctively, I dropped to my knees to gather the scattered bills. But Alex grabbed my wrist, his grip tight and suffocating. His brow furrowed in deep disgust. “Stop it! Look at yourself. How did you let yourself sink this low?!” The physical pain in my chest finally caught up to me, sharp and agonizing. I looked down at my cheap, threadbare dress, at my bruised knees, and let out a dry, quiet breath of a laugh. When I didn’t say anything, his eyes flared with irritation. “Fine. I’m apologizing, okay? What more do you want?” Beside him, Camille’s eyes welled with tears. She whispered softly, “Elsa, please don’t be mad. If you hadn’t… well, Alex wouldn’t have felt the need to test you like this. He still loves you. Don’t make him angry, please?” I looked at her, my lips still curled in that hollow smile. “So, I should thank you? Thank you both for conspiring to drag me into hell?” She flinched, her shoulders trembling as she reached out to grab Alex’s sleeve. “No, Elsa, it wasn’t like that…” “Enough!” The brief flicker of warmth in Alex’s eyes vanished. He shoved me away. “You chose this! You chose to degrade yourself!” I lost my balance and crashed hard against the cold, sticky floor of the club. My stomach violently spasmed. A copper-sour taste surged up my throat. I bit my lower lip hard, forcing the nausea and the blood back down. Alex’s gaze softened with a brief, conflicted hesitation. He reached a hand out toward me, then quickly pulled it back, hardening his expression. “I already apologized. What else do you want? Do you have to make a scene and embarrass us both?” I didn’t hear him. I blocked out his voice, waiting for the worst of the spasm to pass before pushing myself up. One by one, I began picking up the crumpled bills. Irritated, Alex stepped over and snatched the small stack from my fingers again. “I said, don’t touch this dirty money! Are you deaf?” My eyes burned, tears hot and uncontrollable. “It’s my money. I earned it. How is it dirty?” He laughed, a harsh, mocking sound. “Earned it? By stripping? By selling yourself?” He stopped mid-sentence. Seeing how the color drained from my face, he looked away uneasily. “Elsa! You were a principal dancer. Now you’re here, shaking your body for change. Are you really going to tell me this was all for me?” Camille sighed, her voice dripping with pity. “Elsa, even if you were desperate for cash, you shouldn’t have thrown away your dignity like this.” She paused, her eyes lingering on my bare shoulders with unmistakable contempt. Emboldened by her words, Alex glared at me. “If you had an ounce of self-respect, you would’ve found any other job. You only stayed here because it’s easy, fast money.” I stared at him, stunned. Then, a laugh escaped me—bitter and sharp. “What other job, Alex? What else can I do? Go back to the stage? Audition for the ballet?” I dragged myself up, ignoring the throbbing pain. Under their watchful eyes, I took two uneven, halting steps forward, dragging my stiff right foot behind me. “Look at me, Alex. I’m a cripple. I can’t dance anymore.” Three years ago, when Alex faked his death, the loan sharks cornered me at our front door. They dragged me down the steps. Someone planted their heavy boot on my ankle and pressed down until the bone shattered. When I finally woke up in the hospital, I had lost our baby. And I had lost my career forever. I looked down, reaching out to snatch my money back from his hands. I needed this cash. My life had been a miserable tragedy. Now that I was dying, the least I could do was buy a piece of earth to bury myself in. Alex’s eyes flared red. He kicked a nearby speaker cabinet, the heavy thud echoing through the empty venue. “Who did it?! Who did this to you?!” The club owner, who had been watching from the shadows, scurried over. He exchanged a quick, knowing look with Camille before speaking. “Mr. Harrington, back then, she got involved with some wealthy businessman. His wife found out and had her beaten… It had absolutely nothing to do with our club!” A rush of blood roared in my ears. I screamed at the owner, “You’re lying! That’s a lie! I never did that!” Alex froze. The disgust and contempt in his eyes returned, colder than before. Before I could say another word, his hand swung out, slapping me hard across the face. “Elsa, you are pathetic.” I collapsed onto the freezing floor. The impact shattered the fragile hold I had on my stomach. I turned my head and retched, dark blood splattering across the concrete. As my vision began to fade into black, I thought I saw Alex’s face twist in sheer panic, rushing toward me. I closed my eyes. If there was a God, I prayed I would never have to see him again. When I opened my eyes, the sterile smell of disinfectant filled my nose. I was lying in a hospital bed. Alex was standing nearby, flipping through a medical chart. He looked up, his expression a tangled mess of emotions. “I gave you everything when we were together. How could you ruin yourself like this?” My fingers curled against the coarse hospital sheets. Did he know? Did he finally look at the chart? Camille, her eyes red, gently took my hand. “Elsa, stop being so stubborn. The doctor says your stomach ulcer has worsened. If you keep pushing yourself, you’re going to kill yourself.” I stared at her. I caught the brief, frantic flicker of panic in her eyes, and in that instant, I understood everything. But I didn’t say a word. I was too tired. I just wanted to go home. Even if home was a damp, dark basement apartment of less than a hundred square feet, it was better than being near them. I reached up and pulled the IV needle from the back of my hand, my voice flat and hollow. “This is none of your business.” Alex lunged forward, pinning my hand down, his brows knitted together. “Stop acting out! You’re sick, Elsa. Let them treat you!” I looked up at him. I didn’t even have the energy to be angry. I just let out a soft sigh. “Alex, I don’t have any money.” I picked up my cheap, cracked phone from the bedside table, unlocked it, and showed him my bank account balance. $104.23. That was everything I owned in this world. I glanced around the luxurious private suite. A dry laugh caught in my throat. “This room must be expensive. Thousands a night, right? My life is cheap. I don’t belong in a place like this.” My words seemed to cut through him. His eyes turned glassy and red. “Who says your life is cheap? Elsa, as long as I’m here, you will have a good life. I promise you.” The words poured out of him automatically, and then he froze. The room fell into a heavy, suffocating silence. I lowered my eyes. I knew what he was remembering. He was remembering the past. When we were in middle school, my father passed away, and my mother treated me like an unwanted burden. I rarely had enough to eat. But the moment Alex saw me, he clung to me. “You look so sad,” he had said, tilting his head. “Does nobody want you? Can I take care of you instead?” I had shrunk back, terrified and confused. But he kept his word. He took care of me. He brought me fresh breakfast every morning. He walked me home every day after school, holding my hand tightly. Camille had quickly befriended me too, pretending to be my sister, but I could always see the sharp, venomous envy hiding behind her smiles. Once, a group of girls locked me in a bathroom stall and poured buckets of ice-cold water over my head. Through the door, their laughter rang out: “Elsa, you’re nothing but a stray dog! Wagging your tail for Alex’s scraps. It makes me sick just looking at you!” I had curled into a tight ball on the wet floor, too terrified to make a sound. Suddenly, the door was kicked open. Alex stood there, his face dark with fury. “Who says Elsa is cheap? As long as I’m here, she will have the best life!” He had lifted me gently into his arms, wrapping his dry jacket around me, whispering sweet promises. Standing behind him, Camille’s gaze had been like a poison-tipped blade. Back then, I truly believed Alex was a gift from heaven. So, without a second thought, I clung to him. And he had patted my back, repeating over and over, “I’ll always be here. I’ll make you the happiest girl in the world.” I believed him. And for a long time, he kept that promise. He treated me like a princess, helped me cut ties with my toxic mother, and gave me a safe space to focus on my dancing. For the first time in my life, I felt cherished. Until the year we graduated from college. A massive leak of the Harrington Group’s confidential files caused their capital chain to snap, bringing the company to the brink of bankruptcy. Alex went mad trying to find the traitor. In the end, every single piece of evidence pointed directly to me. My mind went blank. I denied it frantically, desperately. But I couldn’t explain the sudden, mysterious transfer of $500,000 into my mother’s bank account. He had stared at me, his eyes bloodshot, his hands shaking. “Tell me you didn’t know. Tell me it wasn’t you.” I nodded desperately, looking into his eyes. “It wasn’t me, Alex. Please, you have to believe me!” He was silent for a long time before finally pulling me into his arms. At the time, I thought the storm had passed. I forgot that, through it all, he had never actually said the words: I believe you. The sharp sting on the back of my hand snapped me out of the memory. Dark red blood was backflowing into the IV tube. I pinched the needle and pulled it out without hesitation. Blood welled up immediately, but I ignored it and swung my legs out of bed. Before I could even stand straight, a white-hot pain stabbed through my stomach, twisting my insides. As I began to fall, a pair of warm arms caught me by the waist. The familiar, woody scent of his cologne filled my senses. I pushed him away with all the strength I could muster, leaning against the wall as dry heaves tore through me. Alex’s face turned an angry shade of bruised purple. He grabbed my wrist and threw me back onto the mattress. “Elsa! What the hell do you want from me?!” He towered over me, the veins on his temples pulsing. “You almost destroyed my family’s legacy back then, and I didn’t even hold it against you!” “I only asked you to pay back that $500,000 so we could put it behind us and start over! Why can’t we just live our lives?!” The copper taste rose in my throat again, but nothing came up. My lungs felt squeezed. Unable to speak, I fumbled through my bag, pulled out a bottle of cheap over-the-counter painkillers, and swallowed two dry. I sat there trembling, waiting for the medication to take the edge off. It seemed my condition was worse than I thought. Even the high-dose pills were barely working anymore. I took a ragged breath and looked up, exhausted. “Alex… I’m sorry. I was too greedy back then.” Too greedy for his warmth. Too dependent on his presence. I stared blankly at the ugly, jagged scar winding around my right ankle. “I paid the money back. I paid the price… Please, just let me go home.” Camille gently tugged on his sleeve. “Alex, don’t get upset. Why don’t you step outside and clear your head? Let me talk to Elsa.” His face was dark. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out. The silence in the room stretched until I finally forced my raspy voice to break it. “It was you, wasn’t it? All of it.” Camille let out a soft, mocking giggle. “Well, look at you. Not as stupid as you look.” I didn’t answer. The quiet girl in school who suddenly became the target of relentless bullying. My estranged mother, who somehow managed to get her hands on a $500,000 transfer from my account. I would have to be blind not to see the patterns now. Suddenly, the door was kicked open. A group of burly men rushed in, dragging me off the bed and forcing me onto my knees on the cold floor. Camille stepped up, her face twisting into something ugly and unrecognizable, and slapped me hard across the cheek. “Elsa, you worthless stray dog. What makes you think you can steal my Alex?” “We grew up together! He belongs to me! You filthy bitch!” With every word, another heavy blow landed on my face. My cheeks burned and swelled, while Camille watched my agony, her lips curling into a satisfied smile. She slowly reached into her designer bag, pulled out a black-and-white printout of an ultrasound, and waved it in front of my face. “Recognize this, Elsa? The little bastard you couldn’t even manage to carry to term.” My pupils dilated. Something inside me snapped. I broke free from the guard’s grip and lunged forward, desperately clawing for the paper. She scoffed and planted her heel directly into my chest. I flew back, hitting the metal frame of the bed. A mouthful of dark blood sprayed across the floor. I glared at her, but the men pinned me down again, their fists and boots raining down on my back and ribs. The baby I never got to hold. My only real family. He had only lived inside me for four months. Before he could even open his eyes to see the world, he was gone, leaving behind nothing but this crumpled piece of paper to prove he had ever existed. Blood dripped from my lips, mixing with my tears on the linoleum. I coughed, my voice cracked and broken. “Give it back… Camille, please… give it back…” My vision blurred into a hazy, crimson smear. Then, a furious roar echoed from the doorway. “What the hell are you doing?! Get away from her!” Alex rushed into the room, shoving the men aside and scooping me into his arms. His eyes were wide with panic. Camille’s face paled for a fraction of a second before her eyes filled with tears. “Alex… these people said she was sleeping with some married man and got pregnant with his bastard…” She cut herself off, feigning shock, and tried to hide the ultrasound behind her back. The arms holding me instantly went rigid.

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Ever since I was a little girl, my mother had one golden rule: “You’re the older sister, Hannah. You have to let Lexie have her way.” And so, I yielded. I gave up my toys, my snacks, and eventually, the chance to go to a four-year college. My SAT scores were high enough for a good state school, but my mother insisted we couldn’t afford tuition for two kids. So I stepped aside, entered the workforce early, and started grinding to make a living. When Lexie finally graduated from community college, she complained that every entry-level job was too exhausting and didn’t pay enough. She ended up crashing on my parents’ couch for three years, doing absolutely nothing. Meanwhile, I worked for five years, dutifully sending eight hundred dollars home every single month. My mother promised she was putting it in a high-yield savings account for my future wedding fund. I believed her. For five long years. Until the afternoon I took a sick day and went home early. I walked through the front door only to hear my mother boasting to our neighbor over the fence: “I’ve managed to put away twenty grand for Lexie. It’ll cover the down payment on a new SUV, no problem.” Lexie. My jobless younger sister. I confronted her the moment the neighbor left. “Where did that twenty thousand dollars come from?” Her face instantly hardened. “It’s money I saved. Do I need your permission to spend my own money? Your sister needs a reliable car for job hunting. Shouldn’t you be helping her anyway?” Lexie strolled out of her bedroom, wearing a brand-new designer jacket I’d never seen before. She didn’t even look up from her phone. “Hannah, it’s just twenty grand. Once my career takes off, I’ll pay you back tenfold.” I stared at her face—a face that looked so much like mine—and said, “You’re not getting a single dime of that money.” 1. The air in the living room turned to ice. My mother stood up abruptly. “What did you just say?” “I said, no. That’s my money. I’m keeping it.” My mother’s face flushed red, and she pointed a trembling finger at the front door. “Get the hell out of my house! If you won’t support your sister, you don’t belong under this roof. I don’t have a daughter like you!” I stood my ground. I didn’t move. Lexie leaned against the wall, sipping her iced coffee, and chimed in with a mock sigh. “Hannah, Mom’s blood pressure is up. Don’t be so dramatic. Just let it go for once.” I ignored her. I turned, walked into my bedroom, pulled open my desk drawer, and shoved my birth certificate, social security card, and passport into my bag. My mother chased me into the room. When she saw what I was grabbing, she went completely ballistic. “You ungrateful leech! You think you can just cut us off?” She lunged forward, grabbing my bag and yanking it toward her. I held on tightly. Then, she slapped me across the face. A sharp, stinging pain bloomed across my cheek. My grip loosened. She grabbed my bag, flung it out into the dark hallway, and followed it by throwing my coat, my phone charger, and a bag of groceries I’d brought home. “Go! And don’t you dare come crawling back!” I knelt in the dim hallway, picking up my belongings one by one. Lexie stood in the doorway, cradling her drink, a faint, smug smirk playing on her lips. I zipped my bag, stood up, and walked down the stairs. Behind me, my mother’s voice echoed down the stairwell. “If you walk out that door, you’re dead to me!” The motion-activated light in the lobby was broken. It was pitch black. By the time I reached the street, night had fallen. The streetlights cast a dim, amber glow over the asphalt. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from my mother: Transfer the twenty thousand to my account, and I’ll let you come home. I didn’t reply. A moment later, another text arrived: Keep being stubborn. Let’s see how long you survive out there on your own. I slid the phone into my pocket and hailed an Uber. The driver asked where to. “Back to the city,” I said. As we pulled away, I looked back at the second-story window. The blinds were drawn tight. No one was watching me leave. 2. When I got back to the apartment I shared, my roommate, Fiona, was still awake. Fiona was six years older than me and worked as a Director of Operations at a tech firm. She usually worked late, so we didn’t cross paths often, but she’d always been easygoing and kind. She saw my suitcase and the red mark swelling on my cheek, but she didn’t pry. “Have you eaten?” I shook my head. She went into the kitchen, whipped up a bowl of quick garlic butter noodles with a fried egg, and set it in front of me. I ate in silence, my tears dripping into the bowl. She slid a tissue across the table and sat quietly, waiting until I finished. Once the bowl was empty, I poured my heart out. I told her about the eight hundred dollars a month, the twenty thousand dollar “wedding fund,” the SUV down payment, the slap, and being thrown out. Fiona didn’t offer the usual platitudes like “she’s still your mother.” She just asked one question: “Do you still have the transaction records?” “Yes, on my banking app.” “Take screenshots. Print out the bank statements. That’s your paper trail.” I blinked, confused. “What paper trail?” “Your mother explicitly stated she was holding that money to save for your future. Legally, that’s a custodial or bailment arrangement, not an unconditional gift. You can sue her to get it back.” I froze. Sue my own mother? It had never crossed my mind. Fiona noticed my hesitation and patted my shoulder. “Don’t stress about it tonight. Get some sleep. We’ll talk in the morning.” The next morning, Fiona was already in the living room when I woke up. She handed me a business card. “My company has an opening for an administrative manager. Nine-to-five, weekends off, eighty thousand a year.” “Your experience as a coordinator at your current agency makes you more than qualified.” “I already submitted your resume to HR. The interview is next Monday.” My hands trembled as I held the card. “Fiona, I don’t know what to say…” “Don’t thank me. You’re a hard worker, Hannah. I’ve seen how diligent you are. That’s worth more than a flashy resume.” I tucked the card away, my throat tight. For the first time in my life, someone valued me for my capability, not my utility to someone else. Not because I was the “older sister who had to sacrifice,” but because I was competent. I took a deep breath. It was time to move forward. But then, the phone calls started. First, Lexie. “Hannah, Mom was so upset she couldn’t sleep all night. Just swallow your pride, transfer the money, and apologize. Is dragging the family through this drama really worth it?” “That is my money, Lexie.” “Your money is family money! Mom raised you. How can you be so selfish over a few bucks? If you don’t pay up, Mom says she’s going to show up at your office and make a scene. You want your coworkers to see that?” I hung up. Then, my father called. His voice sounded incredibly weary. “Hannah… your mother speaks harshly, but she has a soft heart. Just come home, apologize, and let’s put this behind us.” “Dad, what did I do wrong?” Silence stretched over the line. “She’s still your mother.” “And I’m still her daughter.” I hung up. Finally, my mother called. Her voice was like shattered glass. “Hannah, I’m asking you one last time. Are you giving us that twenty thousand or not?” “No.” “Fine. Don’t regret this.” She slammed the phone down. I didn’t fully grasp what she meant by “regret” until Monday. My interview at Fiona’s company went incredibly well. The department VP practically hired me on the spot, telling me I can start next week. I walked out of the office building feeling lighter than I had in years. Then my phone rang. It’s Tyler, a colleague from my current job. “Hannah, where are you? Your mom and sister are outside the office lobby holding a giant poster board!” My head spun. When I rushed back to my current workplace, a small crowd had gathered near the entrance. My mother was holding a cardboard sign that read: HANNAH IS AN UNGRATEFUL DAUGHTER WHO ABANDONED HER SICK MOTHER! Lexie was filming on her phone, narrating live. “This is my heartless sister. She’s been working for five years, hasn’t given our family a single cent, and now she’s completely cutting us off…” My mother spotted me and raised her voice, projecting to the onlookers. “Look at her! There she is! I raised her for twenty-eight years, and now that she’s making good money, she treats me like trash!” People in the crowd whispered and pointed. “That’s awful.” “No matter what, that’s her mother.” My face burned with a hot, suffocating shame. Security finally arrived and escorted them off the property. But minutes later, my phone rang. It’s HR. “Hannah, you didn’t report to your desk today, and you didn’t request PTO. Furthermore, the incident outside our lobby has caused a significant disturbance. The partners feel this reflects poorly on the firm. We’re going to have to let you go.” I don’t bother explaining. There’s no point. I stood on the sidewalk, staring up at the building where I spent three years of my life. The afternoon sun was blinding. On my phone, Lexie’s video was already circulating on local community Facebook groups. The comment section was brutal. What a terrible daughter. Her poor mother. Find out where she works, she deserves to be exposed. I sank onto a concrete bench, burying my face in my hands. Then, Fiona called. “Hannah, I just heard. Did your mother show up at your office?” “Yeah. I got fired.” Silence on the other end for a few seconds. “Don’t be afraid. You passed your interview here. You start next Monday. If your mother tries to cause a scene at our building, our security team will have her arrested for trespassing.” I stood up. My legs were trembling, but I took a step forward. This time, I wasn’t backing down. 3. The new company was called Stratus Tech, an enterprise software firm. Fiona was the Director of Operations. I reported directly to her as the Administrative Manager, making eighty thousand a year—nearly double my previous salary. On my first day, Fiona showed me around. It was a tight-knit team of about forty people, and the atmosphere was collaborative and professional. I sat by a large window overlooking a row of birch trees. The leaves were still green, whispering in the breeze. I took a deep breath. A fresh start. But within forty-eight hours, the storm caught up with me. Somehow, my mother tracked down my new office address. On Friday afternoon, she and Lexie showed up. This time, there are no signs. They bypassed the main security gate by tailgating an employee, slipped into the reception area, and my mother literally flung herself onto the lobby floor, wailing. “My own daughter has abandoned me! I have nowhere else to go!” Lexie stood beside her, playing to the room. “Can anyone help us? My sister makes six figures now and won’t contribute a dollar to our sick father’s medical bills. She has no soul!” Employees started stepping out of their cubicles. Some looked uncomfortable; others pulled out their phones. Fiona stepped out of her office, her face set in stone. “Mrs. Davis, this is a private place of business. You need to leave immediately. Any family matters must be resolved privately.” My mother glared up at Fiona. “Are you her boss? Let me tell you, this girl is a snake. If you keep her on your payroll, she’ll ruin your company.” Fiona didn’t engage. She picked up the house phone and called building security. Two burly security guards escorted them out of the lobby. As the elevator doors closed, my mother’s voice echoed down the hall: “Hannah! Get out here! If you don’t give me my money, I’ll come back every single day!” I stood behind the glass partition, my hands slick with cold sweat. Fiona walked over and spoke softly. “This can’t go on, Hannah. If they keep disrupting the office, leadership will eventually have to step in.” “I know.” “Have you decided? Are you going to keep taking this, or are you ready to end it?” I clenched my fists. “I want to end it. For good.” Fiona nodded. “A close friend from college is a family law attorney. She specializes in domestic disputes and asset recovery. I’ll send you her contact info.” That night, I text the lawyer, Nancy. She’s in her early thirties, sharp and completely no-nonsense. I laid out the entire timeline: the bank transfers, the text messages, the online harassment videos Lexie posted. Nancy replied almost immediately: The paper trail is solid. The fact that your mother repeatedly used the phrase ‘saving it for your future’ in writing is crucial. Legally, she was acting as a custodian. It was never a gift. We can file a civil suit for the return of the twenty thousand dollars. Additionally, their harassment at your workplace and the defamatory videos online—which have thousands of views—constitute targeted harassment and defamation. We can pursue civil damages and file a police report. “I want to sue. On all counts,” I texted back. Are you sure, Hannah? Once we file, there’s no going back. It will permanently sever your relationship with your mother. “It was severed a long time ago.” Nancy began drafting the paperwork. I set my phone face down on the nightstand and stared at the ceiling. The streetlights outside filtered through the curtains, casting long, watery shadows. My phone buzzed. A voicemail from my mother. Her voice was hysterical. “Hannah! I heard you’re getting a lawyer to sue me? You ungrateful bitch! If you take me to court, I’ll swallow a bottle of pills and make sure everyone knows it was your fault!” I don’t reply. In the past, those threats would have terrified me. I would have stayed up all night, crying, terrified she’d actually do something desperate. But now, the fear was gone. I knew she won’t do it. She loved herself far too much. And besides, she still had an SUV to buy for Lexie. 4. After the legal complaint was served, my mother went absolutely ballistic on the family group chat. Hannah is actually suing me! Look at what this heartless monster is doing to her own mother! But this time, the chat was mostly silent. My Aunt Susan finally posted: Helen, you took twenty thousand dollars of Hannah’s hard-earned money. If she wants it back, you should pay her. Dragging this into a courtroom is embarrassing for the whole family. My mother immediately fired back: Shut your mouth! Easy for you to say when it’s not your kid turning on you! Whose side are you on anyway? Susan didn’t reply to the group. Instead, she sent me a private text. Hannah, don’t back down. I’ve got your back. I’ll testify in court if you need me to. Thank you, Aunt Susan, I replied. But before our court date, my mother took her frustrations out on my father. Since his construction injury years ago, my father had run a tiny neighborhood convenience store, selling newspapers, snacks, and soda to scrape by. My mother stormed into his shop, knocked over several metal display racks, and sat on the floor weeping. “Look at the daughter you raised! She’s suing me! Are you just going to sit there and do nothing?” My father knelt silently, picking up the scattered bags of chips and candy. He didn’t say a word. Once she screamed herself hoarse, she left. The next morning, my father called me. His voice sounded older, thinner than usual. “Hannah… can you… can you drop the lawsuit?” “Dad, that’s my life savings.” “I know, sweetheart. But your mother… her nerves are shot. She can’t handle this stress.” “When she brought Lexie to my office to humiliate me and get me fired, did she care about my stress?” The silence on the line was heavy. “Your sister… she’s pregnant.” My stomach dropped. “Her boyfriend walked out when she told him. She’s going to have to raise this baby alone. Your mother was planning to use that twenty thousand to help her get a reliable car and set up a nursery.” “Hannah, please… just do this for your sister…” “Dad, I’ve spent twenty-eight years doing everything for Lexie. Haven’t I paid enough?” My father sighed and hung up. I held the phone to my ear, my fingers cold. It wasn’t anger that I felt. It was just a profound, freezing numbness. Sensing that intimidation wasn’t working, my mother tried a different tactic. She asked Aunt Susan to broker a truce, inviting me over for a “family dinner” to talk things through. Fiona warned me not to go. “You know exactly what she’s doing. It’s a trap.” I thought about it, but I went anyway. Not because I was wavering. But because I wanted to see exactly how far she was willing to go. I arrived at my parents’ house at dusk. The neighborhood was quiet. My mother was sitting on the sofa. For once, the television was turned off. Lexie was holed up in her bedroom, the door shut tight. My mother forced a tight, awkward smile. “You’re here. Sit down, let me get you some tea.” I sat on the edge of the armchair, refusing the tea. “You said you wanted to settle this. How?” My mother rubbed her palms together. “Hannah, I’ve been thinking. I’ll pay you back the twenty thousand. But I have to do it in installments.” “Over what timeline?” “Ten years. Two hundred dollars a month.” I did the math. Over ten years, that doesn’t even cover the full principal, let alone the interest or inflation. “No. I won’t accept an installment plan. I want the lump sum returned immediately.” My mother’s expression instantly sours. “I don’t have that kind of cash lying around! Your sister is pregnant, she needs resources!” “That’s your problem, not mine.” “Hannah!” My mother stood up, her voice rising. “Are you trying to drive me to an early grave?” “You’re the one driving us both there.” “Fine. Fine.” Suddenly, she stopped shouting. She sat back down, her voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. “If you won’t drop the suit, don’t blame me for what happens next.” She gets up, walks into her bedroom, and shuts the door. A cold knot formed in my stomach, but I pushed it aside, stood up, and left the house. The very next day, my father landed in the emergency room.

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