After being adopted by a wealthy family, my three older brothers hated me. When I performed in front of a crowd, my fingers were pierced by needles hidden under the piano keys. As blood poured from my hands, they stood in the crowd, watching with cold indifference. But in the middle of the night, someone slipped into my bed to secretly bandage my wounds. I called out softly, “Brother.” His fingers tightened, roughly bruising my lips. He gritted his teeth and demanded: “Do you even know which brother I am before you call out?” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. It didn’t matter which one he was; he wasn’t the one I wanted to call “Brother.” 01 The news of rising star jewelry designer Chloe Vance returning to the US dominated the trending charts. In the video, she wore sunglasses and bright red lipstick, looking as radiant and captivating as a rose soaked in morning dew. Reporters shoved microphones in her face, swarming around her: “Miss Vance, we heard that the piece that won the International Gold Award was your debut work. Could you share your inspiration with us?” “Miss Vance, elements like doves and feathers frequently appear in your designs. Do they hold a special symbolic meaning for you?” “Miss Vance, rumor has it you’ve already signed with the design studio under the Sterling Group. Does this mean wedding bells are in the near future for you and the CEO of the Sterling Group?” Chloe stopped walking, looked at the cameras, and smiled slightly. “You’ll all have the answers to those questions very soon.” She pulled her left hand out of her trench coat pocket. On her slender ring finger, a massive diamond ring sparkled brilliantly. “My fiancé and I will soon be…” The video abruptly cut off. I pulled my gaze away from the black screen and looked up at the man holding me in his lap. He casually tossed the remote aside, took my hand, and pressed it against the black and white piano keys. “Break time is over. The fingering we just practiced—do it ten more times.” I nodded obediently. “Okay, Julian.” Julian Sterling’s hand paused, a hint of pleasure coloring his voice: “After you finish practicing, I’ll take you to pick out a pretty dress. We’re going to the Vance estate together tonight.” “Julian, are you taking me to meet my future sister-in-law?” His breath suddenly hitched, and he spoke with near-irritation: “…No.” I didn’t say another word. I gently pulled my hand free and began to play. His long, calloused hand rested motionless on the high-octave keys for a long time. My fingers occasionally brushed past his as I expertly pressed the keys in between his hands. The brief brush of our skin was as light as a feather. The melody of Für Elise flowed exceptionally smoothly. Julian stared intently, but he never lifted his hand. 02 Julian and Chloe had gotten engaged two years ago. That was when I first entered the Sterling household, just starting my senior year of high school. Chloe had eagerly arranged for me to transfer to a prestigious private prep school. As the third son of the Sterling family, Liam Sterling, was in the same grade, Chloe put on the airs of a future sister-in-law: “Mia is just a young girl in a new environment. It’s always safer to have her own brother keeping an eye on her.” “I’ll be studying abroad for two years. Having a little sister in the house will keep you guys entertained.” “Just make sure you don’t scare her.” She smiled slyly, reaching out to pat my head. I ducked to avoid her touch. A flash of darkness crossed Chloe’s eyes before she picked up her designer bag and gracefully walked away. A lot happened during the two years she was away. For instance, I became the target of severe bullying at that elite prep school, and my grades plummeted. Chloe’s younger brother, Carter Vance, was a notorious, reckless rich kid. He took a liking to my face and began making loud, public declarations of love around campus. After I rejected him to his face, he flew into a humiliated rage and swore he would make it impossible for me to stay at that school. My textbooks and assignments would be reduced to confetti by the next morning. Whether I opened the classroom door or a bathroom stall, I would be drenched head to toe by a bucket of dirty water. Flying stationery and random trash would strike me from every angle when I wasn’t looking. Being shoved and pushed amidst mocking laughter became a daily routine. They spread vicious rumors about me, claiming I was the one seducing Carter, that I was stalking him after he rejected me, and that I was desperate to climb into his bed. One guy maliciously taunted me to my face: “If you can’t climb into Carter’s bed, I won’t mind settling for you. Name your price. We all want a taste of the Sterling family’s new ‘miss’.” The group erupted in laughter. Liam, sitting nearby seemingly unbothered, finally grew irritated upon hearing the last sentence and spoke up: “That’s enough.” The guy looked from me to Liam, reeling in his laughter as he prepared to leave. I clenched my trembling fists and slapped him hard across the face. He flew into a rage: “You fucking—” That day, he kicked my desk over and shoved me to the ground. My head slammed into the sharp corner of the desk. The overwhelming metallic scent of blood filled the air, and my consciousness began to blur. It was Liam who rushed me to the hospital. Lying in the hospital bed, I clung to his shirt, refusing to let go. Even while unconscious, I cried out: “Brother, please don’t leave me.” When I woke up, I had forgotten everything from my past. I looked at Liam, who was keeping watch by my bed, and asked him timidly: “Are you my brother?” From that day on, the gloomiest, most fearful adopted daughter of the Sterling family became a docile, flawless princess. 03 I attended Chloe’s welcome-back banquet arm-in-arm with Julian. I wore a pale blue princess gown handpicked by him. Around my neck was a dazzling necklace he had personally fastened for me—a white dove pendant. The dove’s eye was a massive, brilliant Graff pink diamond. Under the banquet lights, it was blindingly beautiful. Chloe greeted us with a smile, but her pupils constricted when her gaze swept over my neck. She looped her arm through Julian’s other arm, forcing a strained smile: “I thought when you won that diamond at the auction, you were going to use it for an engagement ring. You’re spoiling your little sister a bit too much, aren’t you?” I tactfully pulled my hand out of Julian’s arm. “What are you talking about, Chloe? For something as important as an engagement, Julian obviously has something even better prepared for you.” Chloe’s eyes widened, her voice full of surprise: “Really? Julian, then I…” “Mia.” A gentle, familiar voice cut into our conversation. A man wearing gold-rimmed glasses walked up to me, looking sharp and elegant in a white peak-lapel suit. He held a glass of red wine. His voice was as rich as the vintage in his hand, yet it made my spine go rigid: “Haven’t you forgotten everything? How is it that you specifically remember your ‘sister’ Chloe?” “That’s hardly fair.” I steadied my nerves and reached for his wine glass: “Tristan, Julian has a picture of Chloe in his study. Don’t act like I don’t know that.” The corner of Julian’s mouth quirked up. He didn’t deny it. Chloe looked bashful, gazing at Julian with ever-growing affection. I looped my arm through Tristan’s and gave the engaged couple a sweet smile: “Julian, Chloe, I won’t be the third wheel here.” “Tristan, let’s go over to the dessert table, okay? I want some red velvet cake.” Tristan led me away. Behind us, Julian stared at my arm linked with Tristan’s, his expression bordering on displeasure. Chloe had to call his name several times before he snapped out of it. 04 At the dessert table, Tristan took his wine glass back from me. “You’re still young. You shouldn’t drink too much.” I playfully shoved half a spoonful of cake into his mouth: “Tristan! I’m a sophomore in college now. I’m an adult.” “Is that so?” He chewed slowly, his eyes behind the lenses dark and unreadable, a smile playing on his lips: “Then you can only have one sip.” He held the wine glass to my lips. I tilted my head back. The deep red liquid flooded my mouth and flowed down my throat, bringing a fiery heat. He showed no sign of pulling his hand away, so I kept drinking. I drank until a rosy flush spread across my pale skin. I drank until I choked and started coughing softly. Tristan finally lowered the glass, thoughtfully patting my back: “Greedy little cat.” “I told you not to drink too much, and you didn’t even know when to stop.” His warm palm pressed against my bare back. My cheeks burned as I smiled dizzily at him. Tristan’s hand lingered for only a second before someone pushed it away. A suit jacket landed on my shoulders, enveloping me in the faint scent of verbena. Liam’s clear voice sounded highly displeased: “Tristan, why did you let Mia drink so much?” “That Miss Vance just said she wanted to hear our Mia perform on stage. I don’t think she can…” “What do you mean, she can’t?” I clutched my chest and looked up, just in time to see Julian striding over with a cold expression. He was walking so fast that Chloe could barely keep up, having to jog to catch him while lifting her dress: “Julian…” Julian turned sideways and firmly grasped her hand. Ignoring Chloe’s suddenly flushed face, he looked only at me: “Your sister-in-law wants to hear you play. Go play.” “Julian, you…” I gently placed my hand over Liam’s, my eyes bright and innocent. “Julian has spent so much time teaching me the fingering. It’s only right that I show Chloe the results.” I sat down on the piano bench. A sharp, silvery gleam caught the light in the gaps between the keys, making me think back to the night of the high school anniversary gala. Without my knowledge, Carter had signed me up for a solo piano performance. I had only recently “lost” my memory, and Julian’s sudden interest in teaching me piano was only a few weeks old. I could only play beginner-level exercises. I forced myself onto the stage. And on a keyboard lined with hidden needles, I played until my hands were dripping with blood. The disjointed, horrific melody drew a chorus of boos from the audience. I retreated from the stage in humiliation, only for Carter to corner me and warn me: “Don’t actually think of yourself as some princess. You’re nothing but a toy the Sterling family picked up to pass the time while my sister is abroad.” But then again, who isn’t a toy? I smiled and placed my hands on the keys. The next second, the powerful chords of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 5 echoed through the banquet hall. I struck the keys with all my strength. The pain was bone-deep. Blood splattered, yet it felt exhilarating. I watched the crowd in the audience, watching me with casual detachment. Julian caught sight of the red spreading across the black and white keys. For a moment, he looked as if he wanted to walk toward me. Tristan whispered in his ear: “Didn’t you say she was just a toy?” Julian stopped moving. He also placed a restraining hand on Liam’s shoulder. When the piece ended, I stood up to take a bow. The droplets of blood splattered on my dress looked like vivid rose petals. As the thunderous applause died down, gasps of horror erupted. I heard Chloe let out a perfectly feigned shriek of panic: “Oh my god, what happened?! Who… who messed with her piano beforehand?!” 05 The Vance family doctor haphazardly bandaged my hands. He didn’t even bother to disinfect the wounds. Chloe apologized profusely, yet her eyes held no real remorse. She looked at me like I was an ant. Her apologies were purely to display her grace as the Vance heiress and to protect the reputation of both families. Just as the Sterling family knew exactly who the culprit was but remained silent—also to protect the families’ reputations. In the end, I was just a toy kept on a whim. It wasn’t worth making a fuss over a toy. On the ride back to the Sterling estate, the alcohol hit me. I curled up and fell asleep, whimpering in pain in my dreams. It was Julian who carried me back to my room. He looked at the blood seeping through the bandages, his expression complex: “If you knew it was going to hurt, why didn’t you stop?” “I couldn’t embarrass you, Julian.” I sat up, arguing earnestly: “You taught me how to play. With so many people listening, if I messed up or stopped halfway, it would look so bad for my teacher.” He froze for a moment, then awkwardly looked away from me and strode out of the room. “No practice for the next few days. Just rest.” I replied with a sweet, obedient “Okay.” “Goodnight, Julian.” I slept very poorly that night. In my hazy consciousness, I felt like a dark, beastly gaze was fixed on me. Sharp pain shot through my injured fingers intermittently. I snapped my eyes open and saw a dark figure lying beside me, gently dabbing ointment onto my fingers. His movements were clumsy, but incredibly tender. I drifted in a daze for a second, then called out to him: “Brother.” The man scoffed. He slowly finished wrapping the fresh bandage around my hand, tying a tight, forceful knot. I flinched in pain. In that moment of clarity, tears welled up in my eyes. He leaned over the covers, pressing his weight onto me. His fingers, smelling of antiseptic, ground roughly against my lips. His voice was low and furious: “Do you even know which brother I am before you call out?” I lowered my eyes and stayed silent. His anger flared. He sneered ominously in my ear: “So now you play mute with me? But when it comes to Julian, you do exactly what he tells you. So incredibly obedient.” I buried my face in the crook of his neck, my hot tears hitting his skin. He seemed burned by the touch, freezing instantly. I sobbed into his ear: “I thought you would come save me.” “My hands hurt so much… Why didn’t you come save me, Liam?” Liam clumsily pulled me tight, using his sleeve to wipe my tears: “It’s not your fault… I don’t blame you anymore, Mia. Please don’t cry, okay?” “It’s all Julian’s fault. He shouldn’t have agreed to marry into the Vance family, and he shouldn’t have used you to please that woman.” “Trust me, Mia. I won’t let her hurt you again.” But she had already hurt me. Over and over again. From the needles in the piano to the maliciously orchestrated bullying. And even earlier, before I had even entered the Sterling home. She had destroyed the only thing I had left to hold onto. 06 At the breakfast table the next morning, it was just Tristan and Liam. The maid said Julian had left for the office early. As soon as I sat down, Tristan joked about my hands: “Who wrapped these for you? They look like mummies. How are you supposed to eat breakfast?” “Come here. Let me re-bandage them.” A maid immediately brought over the first-aid kit. I glanced at Liam’s dark expression, hesitated for a moment, and then walked over. The bow Liam tied came undone with a single pull from Tristan. Liam set down his knife and fork, crossing his arms as he watched: “I thought they were wrapped perfectly fine. If Mia can’t use her hands to eat, I’ll feed her.” Tristan leaned over, patiently and methodically unwinding the gauze layer by layer. Behind his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes were focused entirely on my hands, not even glancing at his younger brother: “They were bundled into a clump. If Mia can’t use her hands, how is she supposed to go to class and draw today?” I was a jewelry design major. The series of “accidents” during my senior year of high school inevitably took a toll on me. I didn’t get into the top university. Julian made the executive decision to enroll me in a local college near the Sterling estate, demanding that I commute from home every day. We had a disagreement when it came to choosing my major. He was very unhappy with my choice of jewelry design. “A girl your age should study literature, history, or philosophy. Why choose something like this?” I hugged his arm and pleaded: “I know the Sterling Group is expanding into the jewelry market. I just want to be able to help you in the future, Julian.” “From now on, I’ll design all your tie clips, brooches, and cufflinks!” Julian’s lips curled into a smile, and he didn’t argue any further. After breakfast, Liam and I went to campus. In class, the senior sitting next to me, Sarah, frowned when she saw my fingers: “What happened? How did you get hurt this badly?” “Just a little accident. I’m sorry, Sarah. I might need to delay submitting the drafts by three days.” “It’s fine.” After class, Sarah took me to her dorm and pulled a tube of ointment from her drawer. “This is amazing for surface wounds. Try it.” My heart ached with gratitude as I thanked her. The Sterling family didn’t know about the design studio Sarah and I had started together. Sarah never asked me why I didn’t just intern at the design studio owned by the Sterling Group, opting instead to start from scratch. She had just looked at my past design portfolio and immediately made the call: “Your style is very distinct. I think we can get commissions.” During all the time we didn’t have class, we ran around, visiting factories to find suppliers. We went from a two-person operation relying on word of mouth to the moderately sized “Chrysalis Studio.” This was the other world where I could breathe freely, far away from the Sterling family. Sarah reminded me again: “Don’t rush to draw for the next few days. Let your hands heal. We have plenty of time.” I nodded, watching as she opened her laptop. A familiar design draft was prominently displayed on a tab she hadn’t closed. Countless dazzling colored gemstones and brilliant gold formed a magnificent crown. In the center of the crown was a dove encrusted with white diamonds. It was posed to take flight, holding a flower made of red diamonds in its beak, looking like it was dripping blood. “Sarah, do you know Chloe Vance?” Sarah scrolled with her mouse: “I know who she is, but we’re not close.” “She’s been in the news a lot lately. I’ve looked at her early work. Honestly, every piece is breathtakingly brilliant.” “But for some reason, her later style completely changed. Even though she’s still praised online, I feel like there’s a huge disconnect from her early work.” Sarah looked thoughtful as she spoke. Then, she suddenly realized something: “I’m sorry. I forgot that your brother is engaged to the Vance family. Was I out of line by saying that…” “It’s fine, Sarah. You’re right.” I stared at the screen. The dazzling light of the jewelry stung my eyes. Those pieces never belonged to Chloe Vance in the first place. And the Sterlings were not my family. 07 The Sterling and Vance families began discussing a wedding date. Chloe’s social media updated almost daily, showcasing her either trying on wedding dresses or picking out wedding rings. She playfully complained about Julian: “When will you finally put down your work to spend time with me? I’m always picking out things alone. My fans are going to suspect we’re not doing well.” Julian finally took a weekend off to accompany her to look at wedding dresses. I used the excuse of a rescheduled class to avoid coming home during the day. By the time my hand was fully healed, the design draft I had given Sarah had been manufactured into a finished product. The craftsmen were incredibly skilled. Every detail of the brooch was flawless. Even Sarah couldn’t put it down. “If this doesn’t become a best-seller, it would be a crime. You’re our cash cow, Mia.” “The first piece of the ‘Kapok’ series is a brooch. Have you thought about what to make next?” I smiled and said, “Let’s do a bracelet.” I started pulling frequent all-nighters, staying at the studio for several nights in a row. One day, while I was in class, I suddenly got a call from Julian. His voice carried an unprecedented rage: “Mia, come home immediately.” My heart pounded frantically as I rushed back to the Sterling estate. Julian was sitting in the living room, with Chloe sitting beside him. Even Tristan and Liam were there. This interrogation-like setup made my steps falter. I stood at the doorway, looking confused: “Julian, did you need me for something?” Julian didn’t say a word. Chloe tugged his sleeve and smiled at me: “Oh, it’s not a big deal. Mia just spent a few nights out. It’s not like she was out doing anything bad.” “She’s a young, beautiful girl. It’s completely normal for her to have a boy she likes…” So it was about me not coming home. I thought the secret about the studio had been discovered early. I relaxed and walked further inside, feigning calmness: “What are you talking about, Chloe? I don’t have a boyfriend.” “Then what were you doing every night?” Julian’s expression softened slightly, but his eyes were still frighteningly dark: “If I hadn’t been talking to Tristan, I wouldn’t have even known you haven’t been home for days!” “And you two! Why didn’t you keep an eye on her?!” Liam lazily raised his hand: “I asked Mia. She said she had assignments to rush and spent the nights pulling all-nighters in the metalworking studio of her jewelry design department.” “How can you sleep comfortably in a classroom…” Chloe smiled slyly: “Mia, it’s okay to go out and get a hotel room to rest with a classmate.” As expected of a Vance. Her methods of spreading rumors were exactly the same as her brother’s. Julian clearly understood the implication of her words. His face turned ugly again: “Mia, have some self-respect.” Tears welled up in my eyes. I looked at him sadly, my voice choking: “Julian, you’re accusing me.” I unzipped my backpack and pulled out a thick stack of design drafts. “I was in the classroom the whole time. I really didn’t go out and get a hotel…” “Enough.” Julian stood up, his face full of irritation. He walked past me with long strides, coldly dropping a single sentence: “Don’t let me find out you’re staying out all night again.” “Otherwise, you’re changing your major.” The drafts were hit by the coat draped over his arm. My grip loosened, and the snow-white pages fluttered all over the room. I crouched down to pick them up, large teardrops falling one by one. Tristan and Liam stayed to help me. Chloe originally wanted to chase after Julian, but her peripheral vision caught something. She suddenly leaned in close to comfort me: “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have spoken out of turn. I’ll go explain it to Julian.” She patted my shoulder, secretly slipping a piece of paper from the stack behind me, quickly crumpling it up and stuffing it into her bag. 08 After that, I spent my nights at the Sterling house. The light in my bedroom stayed on late into the night. Someone would always come knocking. Sometimes it was Tristan, sometimes it was Liam. Sometimes they came together. I couldn’t hide it fast enough, and they saw the pattern on the paper. It was the second piece of the Kapok series: the Kapok flower bracelet. Fortunately, they didn’t know much about jewelry, so they naturally didn’t connect it to the Kapok brooch that had been gaining popularity domestically. They didn’t know it was my design. Tristan was a partner at a law firm, and Liam dreamed of becoming a race car driver. “You’re staying up later than me every day. Don’t tell me you’re making a wedding gift for Julian?” Tristan asked me with a half-smile. I looked up from the pile of drafts, feigning surprise: “How did you know, Tristan?” “The day my drafts fell, the final sketch went missing. I have to work overtime to redo it.” I explained shyly, my face flushed. Tristan stopped smiling. After a long pause, he looked at Liam with a sneer: “Our older brother is certainly lucky.” Liam snorted and walked out. Once the design drafts were finalized, I began the handcrafting process. I brought some equipment from the studio into my bedroom and continued working through the nights. Julian only had the maids report to him daily to confirm I slept at home. But Tristan and Liam practically witnessed the creation of the very first finished Kapok bracelet. Given the color scheme and diameter, it was clearly not meant for a woman. Tristan examined it in his hand for a while, making a motion to slip it onto his wrist: “Looks like a good fit.” I glared at him, grabbed his wrist, and pulled the bracelet off: “That’s for Julian. Don’t break it.” Liam leaned lazily against the doorframe, watching us bicker with a cold expression: “You ungrateful little brat. Two of your brothers are here keeping you company, and all you care about is the one who’s absent.” “If you’re making a wedding gift, it should be a pair. What does it mean to only make one for Julian?” I carefully placed the bracelet into a velvet box and flashed him an innocent smile: “I don’t have enough time. The wedding is coming up so fast. I’ll make one for Chloe later.” In reality, I had already finalized the design for the women’s version of the bracelet. After the factory-produced finished product passed inspection, the women’s bracelet—the second piece of the Chrysalis Studio’s Kapok series—was already available for sale. That weekend, I stayed home, which was unusual. Sarah called me, her tone uncharacteristically serious: “Mia, during the design process of the Kapok bracelet, did anyone see your drafts?”

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When the newly crowned A-list pop idol Cole Mercer wanted to hard launch his relationship, I begged him to think of his career. He agreed. But his non-celebrity girlfriend left a suicide note and vanished forever. The next day, Cole went on Twitter to accuse me of controlling his life. I was struck and killed by a car driven by his crazed stans. He smiled as he watched me take my last breath. “Does it hurt? The day she left, I hurt more than you.” When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day he said he wanted to go public. I didn’t stop him. I just watched coldly as he made his high-profile announcement and shot to the top of the trending charts. 1 Three minutes after Cole’s post went live, our talent agency exploded. Phones were ringing off the hook. The entire internet was demanding to know if the relationship was real. The CEO was furious. “He’s only 22! Does he want to ruin his career?! Is this girl some billionaire heiress worth throwing his future away for?” When he found out Cole’s girlfriend was just an ordinary girl, the CEO completely lost it. He cursed Cole for being a whipped idiot, and then he screamed at me for not stopping him. Actually, I had stopped him. And then I died. In my previous life, on the night Cole took home the “Artist of the Year” award at the Music Video Awards, he suddenly told me he wanted to go public. He said it was a promise he made to his girlfriend—that on the day he made it to the top, he would give her the official title she deserved. A pop idol going public during the peak of his career is career suicide. Not to mention, he was just about to kick off a massive arena tour. I urged him not to backstab his fans right after winning an award they voted for. I told him fans don’t spend thousands of dollars on him just to buy his condoms. He could give her the title in private; there was no need to broadcast it to the world. Ultimately, Cole agreed. But his girlfriend believed he had betrayed their love. She left a dramatic goodbye letter and vanished into thin air. Half a year later, the police found her body washed up by a riverbank. She had a three-month-old fetus in her womb. Cole went insane. Even though the police ruled it an accidental death following an emotional dispute, Cole stubbornly insisted that I had killed her and their unborn child. The next day, Cole posted a lengthy statement online, accusing me of manipulating his life. He claimed that from the day he debuted, I had restricted his personal freedom and forced him to do all the fan-service things he hated. He successfully redirected all the fans’ intense dissatisfaction onto my head. He even used a burner account to leak my home address to his most unhinged stalker-stans, inciting them to seek revenge. On the day I was run over by a car driven by his fans, his usually terrible acting skills reached their absolute peak. Crying on the outside, he leaned in close to my ear, his voice dripping with smug malice. “If you hadn’t stuck your nose where it didn’t belong, she wouldn’t have died. “You’re just my manager, not my mother. You don’t get to dictate my life. “You tried to use my fans to threaten me, and in the end, you died by their hands. “Watch and see. Even if I go public, those brain-dead fans will still throw their money at me to buy my condoms.” Is that so? If he really hard-launched his relationship, would his rabid fans buy him condoms, or would they buy knives? Last time, I didn’t get to see the answer. So this time, I wanted a front-row seat. 2 The CEO issued an ultimatum: fix this PR nightmare immediately. But Cole was dead set on his official announcement. He changed his social media passwords, turned off his phone, and completely dropped off the grid. Under the CEO’s barrage of insults, I voluntarily offered my resignation. The chaotic office fell dead silent for a second. Then, the CEO erupted again. “Your artist just blew a massive hole in this company, and you’re telling me you’re quitting?!” I scoffed coldly. In my past life, when Cole’s fans were organizing a witch hunt against me online, the company was the first to cut ties. They claimed I was just a temporary contractor, forcefully fired me without severance, and even had security beat up my elderly parents when they came to the headquarters to demand justice for me. I took off my company ID badge, my tone even. “I managed him for seven years. For seven years, I brought him up from an unknown trainee to the top. I never caused this company an ounce of trouble. He insisted on going public this time, and my hands are tied. “If the PR department needs my help, I’ll actively cooperate. But as for Cole Mercer, from this day forward, he has absolutely nothing to do with me.” My absolute resolve shocked my colleagues. “But you spent years cultivating him! You finally made him an A-lister, how can you just walk away?” Everyone knew the blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into him. The irony was, the only person who didn’t see it was Cole himself. I stayed by his side for seven whole years. For seven years, I exhausted myself pushing him step by step from obscurity to the pinnacle of fame. He said he was afraid of the dark; I left the lights on and slept on the studio couch to keep him company. He said he had social anxiety; I drank until I was sick at networking dinners to secure sponsorships for him. He said he was bad with words; I wrote all his sweet, fan-pandering posts to solidify his fanbase. When he was about to go on tour, I meticulously supervised the audio engineers to cover up his atrocious live vocals. These were my professional duties, and I never asked for his gratitude. But in the end, it all became the very knife he used to stab me. The CEO snapped: “Let her go! She’s just a manager. I refuse to believe the company will collapse without her.” He was right. Nobody dies just because someone else leaves. The same went for me. Honestly, leaving Cole Mercer meant I was going to live a much better life. 3 Because Cole changed his passwords, the relationship announcement sat at the top of the trending charts for a whole day before the company finally managed to suppress it. In just 24 hours, his announcement post amassed hundreds of thousands of comments. Half of them were from his loyal stans, aggressively spamming emojis and copy-pasted blessings to drown out the hate. The other half was pure outrage and cursing. [I stayed up all night voting for you yesterday, and today you give me a sister-in-law? Am I crazy or are you?] [Why did you have to announce it? Couldn’t you date in secret? Did you have to shove it in our faces?] [I’ve spent over $30,000 on your merch and albums. I haven’t missed a single tour date. And you repay me with a girlfriend?] [I’ve spent over $100k! And he takes my money to fund his little romance. I’m gonna throw up!] [If you make a living off your fanbase, you serve the fans. Otherwise, quit being an idol.] [Turns out only the fans cared about your career. I want my three years back.] There were countless other comments too vulgar to even repeat. The comment section was quickly restricted, then shut down entirely. His fans were running themselves ragged in the fandom Discord and Reddit threads, desperately waiting for his explanation. But their precious idol was spending these few days taking his new girl on a luxury vacation. I handed over my work accounts, returned to my apartment which I hadn’t seen in ages, and scrolled through my personal phone while eating chips. A life without Cole Mercer was wonderfully quiet. It wasn’t until I saw a photo of him and his girlfriend hiking on his private Snapchat story that I remembered—early in his career, when I was terrified of missing an emergency text, I had added him on my personal account. After becoming an A-lister, Cole’s ego inflated so much he was practically floating. Posting a picture like this on his private story right now… was he trying to speed-run his own cancellation? In the photo, there was a new tattoo on his inner forearm. It was the letter “S”. I had seen that letter before. Back when Cole first won his debut survival show, a friend of mine who ran a major pop-culture gossip account told me she received a tip. It was an intimate photo of Cole with a girl, and the tipster’s handle had the letter “S” in it. I knew Cole’s girlfriend was named Sierra Knox. It had to be her. Out of professional habit, my brain instantly went into conspiracy-theory mode. I instinctively tapped on Cole’s profile, wanting to warn him to be careful of being used for clout. Thankfully, the moment I opened the chat, I caught myself. My hand slipped, and I accidentally double-tapped his profile icon, sending a notification. When I refreshed my feed, the photo was gone. He had probably blocked me. But I didn’t care. Whether he was truly in love or getting played, it had absolutely nothing to do with me anymore. 4 A few days later, the relationship announcement on Cole’s official Twitter was deleted. Thanks to the tireless efforts of his fans, his timeline and subreddits were once again a picture of peace and harmony. Any dissenting voices were immediately swarmed and attacked. You could only find the genuine outrage and mass-unfollowing if you searched his specific anti-fan nicknames. But I had protected him too well in the past. He didn’t even know what his own anti-names were. He genuinely believed his fans still supported him unconditionally. Normally, if this issue wasn’t brought up again, it would just fade away. The internet has a seven-second memory. Once the heat died down, they would make up some excuse to cover it up, and it would be history. As for the fans who unstanned him, after his arena tour finished, many would eventually come crawling back. But right when the company issued a statement claiming Cole’s account had been hacked and the relationship post was fake… At midnight, screenshots of Cole’s private Snapchat story suddenly leaked online. It was the exact photo grid of him and his girlfriend on vacation. The person who leaked the screenshot even thoughtfully blurred out the “S” tattoo on his arm. This was the first time I actually smiled seeing Cole hit the top of the negative trending charts. After years of frantically cleaning up his messes, I was thoroughly sick of it. As the public backlash rapidly escalated, the company’s “hacked” statement became a laughingstock. Those devoted fans who swore they believed he was single became an even bigger joke. Cole was getting ripped to shreds online. Even the paid bot farms couldn’t drown out the hate. The company tried to divert attention by dragging other male celebrities down, fabricating dating rumors about them. Cole, convinced I was the one who leaked the screenshot, called to scream at me. He called me toxic, jealous, and morally bankrupt, and threatened to have his fans cyberbully me. I told him I didn’t do it, but he refused to believe me. “I blocked everyone else from seeing that story except you! And you’re telling me you didn’t do it?!” I laughed. “You shot the arrow yourself. Whoever leaked it, you’re the one who has to take responsibility for your actions. As for who did it… take a wild guess.” He raged: “You just wait!” I ignored him, hung up, and blocked his number. Over the next few days, my personal phone number suddenly received a flood of unknown calls. Thinking they were friends, I instinctively answered. The moment I picked up, someone started demanding I issue a clarification for Cole’s relationship. I was stunned. Besides my close friends and family outside the industry, only Cole knew this number. He must have leaked it. The fan on the other end aggressively interrogated me. “Have you seen Cole’s negative trending topics? Why hasn’t the PR team suppressed the heat yet? Are you even his manager?!” I sighed and explained that I had already resigned. The fan got even more agitated: “He’s in the middle of a massive crisis, and you have the nerve to quit?!” If there were an Olympic eye-rolling competition, I would definitely win gold. Just as I was about to hang up, the voice on the other end demanded furiously: “Why can other people clarify their rumors, but you guys can’t?” “Clarify what?” “The relationship! Tons of male stars had dating rumors the past two days and they all clarified it.” I was speechless. “Because they aren’t actually dating.” “What kind of attitude is that? You don’t care at all, do you?! He’s about to kick off his fourth arena concert!” Me: “Is caring going to magically fix it?” “You just wait! I’ve recorded everything you said, and I’m going to report you to the agency!” 5 I went viral. Because of Cole. But it wasn’t because he posted a hit piece accusing me of controlling his life like in my last life. It was because… His mega-fan posted the recording of our phone call to Stan Twitter. At first, the fans in Cole’s community mass-attacked me, calling me irresponsible and threatening to dox me. But as they pushed the hashtag onto the trending page, more and more ordinary people clicked on the video. After listening to the whole conversation, instead of siding with the fans, the general public erupted in mockery. [I’m allergic to stupidity. This staff member has the patience of a saint.] [Joke of the year: ‘Why can they clarify?’ ‘Because they aren’t actually dating.’ Why can’t you guys clarify? Reading comprehension is key here.] [Why are you yelling at the staff? I feel like she was trying her best. Holding back laughter must have been tough.] [I thought the staff member was trying to trick the caller at first, but realizing this is a genuine fan is just embarrassing.] [I finally know what kind of people argue with me online.] [That fan’s family must have banged their heads against the wall praying to God for that level of delusion, hahahaha!] Having been a manager for years, I had anticipated this outcome. I just didn’t expect the other party to actually dare to expose it. Seeing the public narrative turn against them, Cole’s die-hard stans panicked and started trying to do damage control. [She’s not a Cole fan! She’s a hater in disguise trying to ruin him!] [No one actually believes this, right? It’s obviously a staged recording. They probably paid someone to act it out.] [Our boy is doing great. You all should focus on your own lives, you have way too much free time.] Of course, no one believed these excuses. It only made the onlookers mock the fans’ intelligence even more. And the mega-fan who originally leaked the call was immediately branded a “hater” and excommunicated by the fandom. That girl could never have imagined that the fans who initially supported her would turn into blades aimed at her throat in an instant. Her original intention was to fight for Cole’s rights, but she ended up as the target of internet-wide bullying. Under the immense pressure, she suffered a mental breakdown. She posted a long, emotional essay on Twitter, condemning the gossip accounts that stole her video, condemning the fans who turned on her, and crying about how she had loved Cole for six years only to be labeled a hater. The moment the post went live, she was mass-reported and her account was suspended, leaving behind only a blurry screenshot. Soon after, Cole’s agency released a statement claiming the phone recording was a fabricated stunt directed by anti-fans for clout, urging everyone to continue supporting Cole’s upcoming concert. This was met with cheers from the remaining fans. [Finally cleared his name! I only believe what he says!] And that mega-fan, now branded an anti, was drowned in an avalanche of online abuse, just like I was back then. No one spoke up for her. Of course, she brought it upon herself. But back then, in the eyes of the public, wasn’t I also seen as bringing it upon myself? Meanwhile, the person who threw us onto the roasting spit hid behind the scenes without saying a word. Well, not exactly without saying a word. Cole logged onto his secret burner account, furiously typing away, trashing the mega-fan for being useless and telling his fans to mind their own business. The bad news was: no one knew about this burner account. The good news was: I did. Karma comes for everyone eventually. I pulled up Cole’s burner account and screenshotted every single one of his tweets. Then I called my pop-culture insider friend. “I’ve got a scoop that’ll get you 100k followers overnight. Want it?” 6 [What a bunch of r*tarded fans, nothing but a nuisance. Loved me for six years? Go die then.] [I’m an adult, I can date whoever the hell I want. My own mom doesn’t care, who do these fans think they are? Bunch of psychos.] [Hahahaha, I knew it. Even if it gets exposed, these idiots will still line up to give me their money.] [Why aren’t the concert tickets sold out yet? That frost-tipped loser next door sold his out. Hurry up and buy them! Just buy ten each and it’s sold out, you useless trash.] I sat in my new apartment, snacking on sunflower seeds while reading Cole’s greatest hits. The ones trending were only a fraction of it. I didn’t even need to leak the rest; the bloodhounds on the internet naturally dug up the rest. Not only did they find him insulting his fans behind their backs, but they also found his burner account casually using derogatory nicknames for other celebrities and liking negative news articles about his rivals. Now the floodgates were open. Cole’s fans cursed him for being two-faced, and fans of the rival celebrities he insulted joined the bloodbath. His fans couldn’t believe that the idol who posted sweet, fan-loving messages every day was actually this kind of monster. Joke’s on them, I was the one writing all those sweet messages. The rival fandoms were even more in disbelief that there was a top-tier idol dumb enough to openly trash other celebrities on a burner account. Why wouldn’t they believe it? You don’t need a high IQ to be an idol. Quite the opposite, actually… I’ve said it before, if you know, you know. If the entertainment industry ranked status by IQ, at least half of them would have to retire. Cole’s social media experienced a massive wave of unfollowing, dozens of times worse than when he announced his relationship. I read through the posts from fans detailing the hardships of supporting him over the years and the pain of being backstabbed. I couldn’t help but sigh. To fans, an idol lacking talent, having poor character, or even breaking the law can be forgiven. But when the knife actually cuts into their own skin, that’s when it truly hurts. Of course, there were still delusional fans who refused to yield even with the knife at their throats. [A burner account of unverified origin is making you all this crazy? Unless he admits it himself, I will support him forever!] I saw that coming. Special thanks to the internet regulations requiring IP addresses to be displayed. People can lie, but IP addresses don’t. With the combined efforts of multiple fandoms, Cole’s burner account IP address history was dug up completely. Every single time he posted, the location perfectly matched his public flight and event schedule. Furthermore, the device used was a newly gifted sponsored phone—only a handful of celebrities in the entire industry had one. Unless someone stole his phone during every single trip just to tweet from a burner, it was impossible to spin. Faced with this massive headwind, even the most rabid fans couldn’t defend him. Cole was cursed out so badly he deleted the burner account and turned off comments on his main. The endorsements that once belonged to him dropped him for other stars. The upcoming concert came to a grinding halt. Fans demanded refunds en masse, totaling over ten million dollars. Cole’s team was desperately trying to hire crisis PR firms across all platforms. Unfortunately, this was a completely unsalvageable disaster. No one wanted to take the job. In a panic, Cole pulled his ultimate trick. He posted a long statement on his main account, claiming the burner account wasn’t his, the mega-fan was a hater, and the girl in the photo was just a friend. And at the very end of this post, I saw a very familiar maneuver. [My social media has always been controlled by my manager. I was unaware of these posts. If anything inappropriate was said, I apologize on her behalf.] The moment this post went live, the fans climaxed. They rallied on Stan Twitter, vowing to hunt me down and seek justice for their precious boy. 7 In my past life, Cole used this exact method to accuse me of controlling him, dumping all the dirty work he did onto me. He thought he could use the same trick to clear his name and push me into the abyss again. But he overlooked one thing. Back then, he had a spotless record and hadn’t lost any fans. But now, with undeniable proof dropping one after another, his credibility was already overdrawn. If I didn’t even have the ability to protect myself now, I would have lived my second life for nothing. What was even more amusing was the company. To cut their losses, they actually made Cole push his concert dates up early. They claimed it was due to “unforeseen circumstances,” but everyone knew the real reason. Cole turned off his comments, but he couldn’t turn off quote retweets. The quote retweets were filled with questions and mockery directed at his explanation. [What does this mean? Are you saying the burner account was run by your manager?] [Wait, if your social media is entirely controlled by your manager, does that mean all those sweet messages to fans were written by her too?] [What a great scapegoat. What did the manager ever do to you?] [Didn’t his manager quit? How is the burner account still active? Who are you trying to fool?] [His profile literally has a picture of his girlfriend.] [How does someone like this still have the nerve to hold a concert? Refund the tickets!] Cole thought his statement would win back fan support, but he was met with a wave of skepticism instead. Furious, he picked one of the replies and quote-tweeted it: [If I am lying about even half a word, I will send myself to prison.] [That sounds so familiar. I feel like I’ve heard it somewhere before.] [Bullshit! You’re the one who gave me the manager’s phone number!] [Whoa, looks like we got some tea.] [Check her profile, there’s proof of Cole burning bridges after using a fan.] I clicked into the profile. It was the mega-fan whose account had been banned. She made a new account and spilled everything: how Cole used her to smear his manager, and how he begged her not to expose his voice memos afterward. Because it was a new account with no traffic, no one paid attention at first. Cole’s statement ironically gave her exposure. [I spent almost a million dollars on him. When he used me, he called me his ‘only true sister.’ Then he kicked me to the curb and mass-reported my account. Today, I’m going to show you all the disgusting face of your ‘idol’!] She posted every single transaction she ever spent on Cole, along with chat logs of Cole telling her to incite fans to smear rival celebrities and his manager. Everyone finally realized that the glamorous top-tier idol was actually doing so much dirty work behind the scenes. The calls for him to retire and be blacklisted grew louder and louder. Unfortunately, he only had terrible moral character; it wasn’t quite at the level of a ban-worthy legal offense yet. His few remaining fans were still fighting on the front lines, claiming they supported him for his professional work, not his personal life, and vowed to attend his concert. They even hyped up his live performances, claiming he “ate CDs for breakfast” (meaning he sounded identical to studio recordings). Stan Twitter was a complete mess, tearing each other apart. I silently ate my popcorn, not in a hurry at all. Because Cole’s hastily rescheduled concert was about to begin. When the time came, I would let them see what “eating CDs” truly sounded like. 8 The day before the concert, the company was still aggressively marketing Cole, praising him as the strongest vocalist of the new generation, stable as a CD live. I spat in disgust. The videos the company released were all pre-recorded. Cole’s actual singing ability… let’s just say it had nothing to do with a CD. He was about as pitch-perfect as my neighbor’s dog. “With vocals like yours, you want to hold an arena tour?” “Come on, please help me out. That frost-tipped loser next door is doing a tour. I can’t let him beat me.” “He’s doing a tour because he can actually sing! Can you?” “I can’t sing, but I can just lip-sync!” I was shocked: “Cole, this is a concert. Fans paid money and bought tickets to hear you sing live, not to watch you move your mouth. Lip-syncing an entire concert? Do you want the fans to tear you apart?” “I’ve seen K-pop groups lip-sync at concerts, and their fans don’t yell at them.” 9 He only paid attention to the worst habits of others and ignored everything good. I was so angry at Cole I almost developed a stress ulcer. What was even more infuriating was that he secretly recorded backing tracks behind my back. But Cole was still somewhat obedient back then. He didn’t dare fully lip-sync under my watch. We used a heavy backing track for his concerts. At the time, no one noticed, and he hadn’t yet entered the mainstream public eye. But this time, things were different. The next day, Cole’s fourth arena tour date proceeded as scheduled. The first three shows were completely sold out, but this time, affected by the wave of refunds, the arena wasn’t even half full. A large group of fans shouted for refunds outside, creating a highly entertaining scene. During the concert, Cole used the opportunity to cry to the fans about his innocence and how wronged he was. He cried until his voice was hoarse, crying so hard it made people’s hearts ache. Fans at the venue, desperate to salvage their idol’s reputation, recorded and live-streamed the entire thing, declaring they would make the people who framed him pay. Then things got interesting. One second, Cole was crying so hard he could barely breathe. The next, when the music started, his voice was completely unaffected—smooth and stable as a CD. Even more hilariously, it was an upbeat dance track. On the jumbotron, Cole had tears streaming down his face, but the vocals blasting through the speakers were incredibly cheerful. This jarringly disconnected performance left the audience totally stunned. The fan live-streaming didn’t realize the danger. She was still in her stream praising her idol for his professionalism and amazing vocals, saying his crying didn’t affect his singing at all. Random onlookers who clicked into the stream laughed out loud, then immediately sent the clip to a famous live-performance critique YouTuber. The YouTuber analyzed it: Cole was 100% lip-syncing. Honestly, you didn’t even need an analysis. Anyone with functioning ears and eyes could tell. Someone even dug up audio from a previous Cole concert and found it was identical to this one. While Cole lip-synced his heart out on stage, the YouTuber aggressively exposed him online. By the time the concert ended, the fans who had been immersed in their idol’s “perfect vocals” finally realized what happened and quickly shut down the stream. Unfortunately, it was too late. A complete chain of evidence had been preserved. The fans who had previously spent money to see Cole’s concerts felt completely scammed. Because the fallout was so severe, consumer protection authorities stepped in to investigate the mass fraud complaints. Before Cole’s afterparty even finished, he received a summons. Rumor has it that when he was taken away, he tried to use his A-list status to threaten the officials. But they didn’t care at all and forcibly hauled him in. And I, as his former manager, was also called in to assist with the investigation. I ran into Cole at the precinct doors. 10 He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, covering his face completely. When he saw me, his mouth twisted in a snarl, ready to interrogate me. “You did this, didn’t you? You set me up! Just because my fans hit you with a car in that other life, you want to ruin me like this?!” Cole clenched his fists and lunged at me, but was blocked by security. So he also remembered his past life. But why was he still so brainless? “I’m innocent! Besides exposing your burner account, nothing else has anything to do with me.” Cole was shocked. His eyes widened, trying to catch a lie on my face. “If it wasn’t you, who else could it be? Who else hates me this much…” I shrugged. “Who knows?” Unfortunately, with Cole’s IQ, he wouldn’t get it. “Hmph, stop pretending. Only you know about those things. Don’t think ruining my reputation will actually do anything to me.” I couldn’t be bothered to explain, silently watching him act tough. He threw a threat at me: “Last time I crushed you effortlessly. Believe it or not, I can do it again this time.” I gave him my best customer-service smile: “Is that so? I don’t believe it.” Cole glared at me, fuming. Soon, his question would be answered. While I was giving my statement, my insider friend sent me a photo packed with highly sensitive information. Although it was pixelated, I immediately recognized Cole’s girlfriend, Sierra Knox, linking arms with a tall man in black. It wasn’t a secret to me that Sierra had another guy on the side, but the words my friend typed next revealed a massive bombshell. “I was actually there to photograph someone else, but I ended up snapping this girl by accident.” “Who is the other guy?” She sent me an unblurred photo of the guy in black. I saw a head full of frosted tips. “Cole’s arch-rival, Dylan Vance.” The name “Dylan” made me think of the police report regarding Sierra’s accidental death in the previous life. The report did mention that “Ms. Knox” and a “Mr. Vance” had a physical altercation due to a romantic dispute, but I never expected that “Mr. Vance” to be Dylan. “I also heard that Dylan has a relative who is a high-level executive at [Major Social Media Platform].” So that was it. No wonder Cole’s continuous stream of negative trending topics stayed up so smoothly; someone was fueling the fire from the shadows. During this time, Cole was busy dealing with scandals and prepping for his concert. He probably had no time for Sierra. Sierra took that opportunity to hook up with Dylan. If it were just Dylan caught in a dating rumor, fans would probably accept it since he was actually a talented singer. But this time was different. Sierra had publicly exposed her intimate photos with Cole online. That face… even with the pixels, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who recognized her; Cole’s fans would definitely spot her too. It had been over four months since Cole announced his relationship. Looking at the timeline, these two might even have a baby on the way. After Cole finished being questioned, he walked past me. This time was just an inquiry; they let him go after getting the facts. He didn’t suffer any substantial loss. Through the glass window, Cole looked smug and shot me a provocative gesture. I smiled as I watched him leave, calculating in my head how to break the good news to him that he was getting played.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “420128”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Landon Prescott was the boyfriend I tricked into a relationship. He was deaf. My absolute favorite thing to do was take out his hearing aid when we were tangled up in the sheets, whispering filthy things right into his ear. Until I discovered he was actually the sole heir to the Prescott empire. So, the night we broke up, things got incredibly ugly. Landon, his eyes red and furious, told me to get the hell out. So I did. It wasn’t until three years later, when news of his impending engagement broke, that I finally dared to sneak back to Chicago. Landon looked at me, his face cold and utterly unreadable. But the second we were alone, he turned around and bound my wrists with his leather belt: “Where do you think you’re running to this time?” “My… fiancée.” 01 I lowered my head, pretending to adjust my camera settings. My palms were already slick with sweat. I didn’t expect to run into Landon so soon. “Mr. Prescott, don’t let Piper’s age fool you. She’s practically swept every international photography award over the past few years,” Monica, the senior editor, patted my shoulder and joked. “It took a small fortune to poach her all the way from Los Angeles.” “I promise you won’t regret agreeing to let us shoot your first-ever magazine cover.” Landon Prescott’s gaze swept over me coolly, completely devoid of emotion: “Is that so?” “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Ms. Collins.” It was the most standard, corporate pleasantry imaginable. I lowered my voice, trying to make it sound richer, or at least different from how I sounded years ago: “Of course, Mr. Prescott.” Landon nodded, not sparing me another glance. I lowered my eyes, my eyelashes trembling slightly. He hadn’t recognized me. Makes sense. I had changed my last name. A medical mask covered half my face, and based solely on my outfit, no one would ever connect the person standing here with the bright, arrogant Piper from the past. Throughout the entire shoot, Landon was incredibly cooperative. With just a slight prompt from me, Landon would flawlessly hit the perfect angle. Behind me, the crew was buzzing with whispers: “Mr. Prescott’s physique is insane, right? I’m literally drooling.” “This Piper Collins is no joke. No wonder Monica paid top dollar for her. Her grasp of anatomy and muscle structure is incredible! Just looking at the monitor, you can feel the raw sexual tension radiating from him under that shirt.” I suddenly zoned out. My memory flashed to a younger boy with a flushed neck, completely bare. Even though I had painted him countless times, he was still painfully shy. Of course, that was only during the first half. I don’t know why, but every time I reached the latter half of the painting process, the location would inexplicably change. The bedroom, the sofa, the bathtub, against the floor-to-ceiling windows. It always ended with me exhausted to the bone—more exhausting than drawing ten anatomy sketches! I angrily kicked him: “Landon, you do this every single time!” “I’m never painting you again! I’m finding a new model! One with an eight-pack!” Landon gripped my ankle and said nothing. After a long moment, he leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth: “Piper, I’m sorry.” I paused. Is he recognizing his mistake and promising to change? The next second, Landon took out his hearing aid. Four boxes of condoms, all different flavors. I didn’t get out of bed for a week. Dammit, and he even apologized. How polite of you. But eventually, we still broke up. That night, things got incredibly ugly. Landon’s eyes were red-rimmed, his voice freezing cold: “Piper, this is the last time. I don’t give second chances.” I kept my head down and gave a low “Mhm.” Landon clenched his jaw, scoffing: “Fine. Get the hell out.” “Don’t ever let me see your face again.” “Otherwise, I swear I’ll kill you.” 02 During a break in the shoot, I found a moment to go back to the equipment room to grab a lens I had left behind. Behind me, a shadow fell over me. A familiar woody fragrance drifted into my nose. I turned around stiffly, feigning composure: “Is something wrong, Mr. Prescott?” Landon looked down at me, his gaze exactly the same as years ago. I held my breath, my fingernails digging fiercely into my palms. I can’t lose my cool. “Nothing.” “Just looking around.” Landon’s eyes were pitch black, his smile faint: “But you, Ms. Collins. What are you so nervous about?” I covered my trembling right hand: “The camera is heavy. Holding it for too long makes my hands shake.” “Is that so?” I lowered my head: “Mr. Prescott, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to the set to prep.” Without waiting for his reply, I turned to walk away. “Ms. Collins,” Landon called out, stopping me. “If someone who betrayed you suddenly appeared in front of you again, what would you do?” 03 My breakup with Landon was ugly, but it could definitely be categorized as a betrayal. And knowing Landon’s personality, if he had recognized me, he would have exposed me immediately. He wouldn’t be acting this cold and detached. I steadied my breathing, turned slightly, and spoke with a smile, adopting a purely professional tone: “Mr. Prescott, while I don’t know the history between you and this person, I believe people should always look forward. There’s no need to stay fixated on the minor details of the past.” “Minor details? You’re very magnanimous, Ms. Collins.” Landon curled his lip. “But what if I insist on holding onto it?” “Mr. Prescott, that is your private matter. I am just a photographer; I’m afraid I can’t help you there.” Landon stared at me without speaking. My feigned composure felt like it was going to shatter at any second. After a long pause. “True,” Landon smiled. “Just a photographer.” 04 The entire shoot went very smoothly, wrapping up an hour earlier than scheduled. After seeing Landon off, I started packing up my gear. Zoey, a production assistant, ran over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the door: “Piper, hurry! Something big is happening outside!” “What’s wrong? Did someone—” My words caught in my throat. The plaza outside the studio was covered in roses, with candles spelling out my name in the center. How should I describe it? It was incredibly tacky. I had already rejected Wyatt three times, but he still wouldn’t give up. He even orchestrated this massive, public scene, creating a completely humiliating situation for me. No one knew how awful my face looked under my mask right now. I’m allergic to pollen. Thank God I was wearing a mask. I turned to leave, but Wyatt blocked my path. He held a bouquet of flowers: “Piper, I really, really like you.” “I promise I’ll treat you well.” “Just say yes, please?” For a moment, my mind drifted. I had said those exact same words to Landon once. 05 My initial attraction to Landon was purely superficial. Out of all the people I had ever met, only Landon perfectly matched my ideal type. A bartender at a club, yet he had an aura that screamed ‘do not approach.’ He wore a hearing aid, which only added to his cold, fragile aesthetic. It was only later that I found out the club belonged to the Prescott family. I was obsessed. I used every trick in the book—relentless pursuit, deception, persuasion. Finally, I managed to coax him into my bed. That night, I whispered so many sweet nothings into his ear: “Landon, I really, really like you.” “Landon, I promise I’ll treat you so well. The absolute best.” “Landon, let’s be together, okay?” Landon lifted his head from my neck, his dark eyes staring intensely into mine: “Do you really… like me that much?” I didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze the turbulent emotions in his eyes: “Mhm. Really.” Landon’s voice was hoarse: “If you promise me that you will only ever love me for the rest of your life, then we’ll be together.” At the time, I didn’t think deeply about his use of ‘the rest of your life.’ I lifted my head and bit his lip: “Okay, only you.” It was only after we got together that I realized Landon’s cold, ascetic persona was a complete act. He was greedier than anyone. I loved taking off his hearing aid during the heat of the moment and whispering dirty things in his ear, screaming recklessly. Watching him try to endure it, even though he couldn’t hear. I was arrogant and had a terrible temper. Landon accommodated me, coaxed me, and let me do whatever I wanted. It made me believe we really would be together for the rest of our lives. Until I accidentally saw a photo of Landon and his father on his phone. A summer afternoon, Landon’s fingers gently running through my hair. The warm hum of the hairdryer next to my ear. It turned out Landon’s last name, Prescott, was the Prescott family. My heart felt like it had been plunged into an ice bath. 06 The cheering crowd snapped me back to reality. At some point, Wyatt had dropped to one knee. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” More and more people gathered. The cheers grew louder. More and more people were pulling out their phones to record. My cringe reflex was in overdrive. I took a deep breath, reining in my temper: “Wyatt, I—” My wrist was suddenly clamped in a vice grip. Long, bony fingers squeezed so hard it hurt. I looked up. Our eyes locked. The dark, elongated eyes, like spilled ink, felt like a massive net, threatening to swallow me whole. Landon’s tone was freezing: “Piper, we’re going home.” 07 “What? Afraid I drugged it?” An entire table of food, and every single dish, even the soup, was loaded with chili peppers. I’m the one who loves spicy food. Landon always preferred mild flavors. I paused, completely unable to read Landon’s current intentions. And this apartment—the one we used to share—was actually bought by Landon. I stood up: “Thank you for getting me out of that situation today, Mr. Prescott. It’s getting late, I should be going.” Landon looked up at me, scoffing: “Mr. Prescott? Piper, you’re really quick to draw a line in the sand, aren’t you?” “Since you’re back, shouldn’t we catch up?” I lowered my eyes: “We have nothing to catch up on.” “Nothing?” Landon’s jaw tightened, his voice dripping with mockery. “Right. After all, even if I died right in front of you, you probably wouldn’t even blink.” Landon stared at me, his face as coldly composed as ever, but the veins on his neck were bulging. I looked at him and said softly: “Landon, we are both adults. There’s no need to hold onto the past—” “The past? You’re calling everything we had ‘the past’?” Landon interrupted me, his tone hardening. “Piper, you never fucking loved me at all, did you?” “If you didn’t love me, why did you ever come near me?” Landon gripped my wrist, his eyes dark and brooding: “Piper, I warned you.” “If I ever saw you again, I’d kill you.” “You won’t do it, Landon,” I met his gaze. “I know you.” “You know me? What do you know about me?” “That I’m obedient? Innocent? Compliant? Generous?” Landon scoffed. “I was faking all of it, Piper.” “It was just a disguise to please you.” “Ruthless, selfish, and vindictive. That’s who I really am.” I took a deep breath and said quietly: “Landon, it was my fault for suddenly appearing and bothering you.” “I’ll go to the agency tomorrow and resign. I promise that after—” “Piper.” Landon’s face darkened, his words spoken through gritted teeth. “I really want to cut you open to see if you even have a heart.” The grip on my wrist tightened. The distance between us vanished, our breaths mingling. In Landon’s eyes, desire churned. I struggled fiercely: “Landon, let me go!” The tension was like an arrow about to leave the bowstring. The next second, Landon’s pupils abruptly dilated. He suddenly released me, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes. After a long pause, Landon curled his lip. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or himself: “Fine. Well done, Piper.” 08 Landon slammed the door as he left, locking me inside the apartment. I only then realized my phone must have fallen out in his car. The clock ticked past 3:00 AM, and Landon still wasn’t back. The closet was lined with rows of brand new women’s sleepwear, all thin and provocative. This wasn’t my style. It must be for Landon’s fiancée. Landon was getting engaged. He owned countless properties; why did he have to bring her here to live? A wave of sour bitterness filled my chest. I violently slammed the closet door shut and went to the bathroom to wash up. While washing my face, I noticed several red spots blooming on my neck and collarbone. I belatedly remembered the bouquet Wyatt had shoved toward me. Dammit. Not only did he humiliate me, but he gave me an allergic reaction. The bedroom door was suddenly pushed open from the outside. Landon, his steps unsteady, walked toward me. The smell of alcohol instantly filled my nose. I scrunched my nose: “Why did you drink so much?” Landon’s voice was hoarse: “After you break up with him, we can pretend everything between you two never happened.” I was stunned: “What does that mean?” Landon’s eyes were tinged with red as he chuckled softly: “What? You can’t bear to part with him?” I dried my hands: “Landon, you’re drunk.” Landon stared at me. The next second, he violently yanked me toward him, turning his head to bite and suck on the side of my neck. A sharp pinch of pain accompanied a tingling sensation. Landon bit down hard: “Piper, if you were going to mess with me, why didn’t you go all the way?” “Why is there someone else?” I instantly realized what he meant and hurriedly explained: “Landon, I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” I pushed him away, creating some distance: “Look closely at these red marks. They’re not hickeys, it’s an allergic reaction! A pollen allergy.” Landon’s cold fingertips traced along my neck, inch by inch. After a long pause, he spoke: “What about me? Do you want to sleep with me?” I froze, not fully processing his words. The next second, Landon pulled off his belt and bound my wrists. The world spun, and my back hit the cold porcelain of the bathtub. I struggled to prop myself up: “Landon, snap out of it. You’re getting engaged.” Landon turned on the water valve, and warm water flowed over my legs. “Yes. So, do you accept my proposal?” Landon looked at me, enunciating every word, “My fiancée.” I was instantly stunned: “The engagement news… was a fake story you released?” “If it wasn’t, how could I get you to come back?” Landon took off his hearing aid and placed it on the shelf. “Piper, I warned you.” His long legs stepped into the bathtub, kneeling on either side of my waist as he leaned down: “If I ever saw you again.” “I would definitely kill you.” 09 My brain buzzed, blood rushing to my head. With Landon’s strength, he could absolutely do what he said. I frantically raised my hands to stop him from getting closer: “Landon, let’s go somewhere else and talk properly, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake. Landon… couldn’t hear. But the next second— Landon grabbed both my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head, and leaned in close to my ear: “As long as you promise you won’t pass out halfway through, I’ll talk to you.” I froze instantly, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning: “Y-you… you can hear me?” Click. The lights went out. The darkness, accompanied by the damp, rising steam, amplified every sensation. Landon chuckled softly: “I never said I couldn’t hear.” “It’s true that I couldn’t hear very well when I took the hearing aid out initially, but someone was always so unapologetically loud.” In the darkness, his voice carried a seductive, alluring tone: “I liked it very much.” ? So all those dirty things I used to say… Landon heard every single word, loud and clear? My face instantly burned. A million imaginary Barbie Dreamhouses were being built by my curling toes. How should I put this? I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I had no choice but to try a Hail Mary. I pitched my voice higher, faking a tearful, pitiful whimper: “Landon, my wrists hurt.” “Let me go, please?” Landon paused, the grip on my hands subconsciously loosening. This trick always worked flawlessly. I seized the opening and aimed a vicious kick at Landon. But as if he had anticipated it, he caught my leg mid-air. Landon’s fingertips lightly grazed the sole of my foot: “Baby, it’s not a good habit to kick people.” “I’m not letting you escape this time.” The world spun again as our positions reversed. The water splashed against my waist, a tempestuous storm. Landon’s hand pressed firmly down on my lower back: “Piper, say my name.” I bit my lip and turned my head, refusing to answer. Landon didn’t get angry; he abruptly sat up. The sudden movement brought tears to my eyes: “Landon, you’re a fucking bastard!” Landon’s tense body pressed against the shell of my ear, his voice hoarse: “Baby, you’re so beautiful.” ? He actually used the dirty words I used to say against me. A raging hurricane. Landon gave me no room to breathe. I dug my nails fiercely into his back. Heavy breathing, accompanied by the frequent flashes of white light in my mind. Again and again, hovering on the edge of the abyss. Landon kept talking, but I couldn’t hear clearly anymore. My bones felt like jelly, and my vision began to blur. “After all these years, you still haven’t improved,” Landon lifted me from the bathtub, a clear note of pleasure in his voice. “Hold on tight. If you fall, I’m not catching you.”

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The boyfriend I tricked into a relationship. He was deaf. My absolute favorite thing to do was take out his hearing aid when we were tangled up in the sheets, whispering filthy things right into his ear. Until I discovered he was actually the sole heir to the Sterling empire. So, the night we broke up, things got incredibly ugly. Julian, his eyes red and furious, told me to get the hell out. So I did. It wasn’t until three years later, when news of his impending engagement broke, that I finally dared to sneak back to Chicago. Julian looked at me, his face cold and utterly unreadable. But the second we were alone, he turned around and bound my wrists with his leather belt: “Where do you think you’re running to this time?” “My… fiancée.” 01 I lowered my head, pretending to adjust my camera settings. My palms were already slick with sweat. I didn’t expect to run into Julian so soon. “Mr. Sterling, don’t let Harper’s age fool you. She’s practically swept every international photography award over the past few years,” Monica, the senior editor, patted my shoulder and joked. “It took a small fortune to poach her all the way from Los Angeles.” “I promise you won’t regret agreeing to let us shoot your first-ever magazine cover.” Julian Sterling’s gaze swept over me coolly, completely devoid of emotion: “Is that so?” “Then I’ll leave it in your capable hands, Ms. Thorne.” It was the most standard, corporate pleasantry imaginable. I lowered my voice, trying to make it sound richer, or at least different from how I sounded years ago: “Of course, Mr. Sterling.” Julian nodded, not sparing me another glance. I lowered my eyes, my eyelashes trembling slightly. He hadn’t recognized me. Makes sense. I had changed my last name. A medical mask covered half my face, and based solely on my outfit, no one would ever connect the person standing here with the bright, arrogant Harper from the past. Throughout the entire shoot, Julian was incredibly cooperative. With just a slight prompt from me, Julian would flawlessly hit the perfect angle. Behind me, the crew was buzzing with whispers: “Mr. Sterling’s physique is insane, right? I’m literally drooling.” “This Harper Thorne is no joke. No wonder Monica paid top dollar for her. Her grasp of anatomy and muscle structure is incredible! Just looking at the monitor, you can feel the raw sexual tension radiating from him under that shirt.” I suddenly zoned out. My memory flashed to a younger boy with a flushed neck, completely bare. Even though I had painted him countless times, he was still painfully shy. Of course, that was only during the first half. I don’t know why, but every time I reached the latter half of the painting process, the location would inexplicably change. The bedroom, the sofa, the bathtub, against the floor-to-ceiling windows. It always ended with me exhausted to the bone—more exhausting than drawing ten anatomy sketches! I angrily kicked him: “Julian, you do this every single time!” “I’m never painting you again! I’m finding a new model! One with an eight-pack!” Julian gripped my ankle and said nothing. After a long moment, he leaned down and kissed the corner of my mouth: “Harper, I’m sorry.” I paused. Is he recognizing his mistake and promising to change? The next second, Julian took out his hearing aid. Four boxes of condoms, all different flavors. I didn’t get out of bed for a week. Dammit, and he even apologized. How polite of you. But eventually, we still broke up. That night, things got incredibly ugly. Julian’s eyes were red-rimmed, his voice freezing cold: “Harper, this is the last time. I don’t give second chances.” I kept my head down and gave a low “Mhm.” Julian clenched his jaw, scoffing: “Fine. Get the hell out.” “Don’t ever let me see your face again.” “Otherwise, I swear I’ll kill you.” 02 During a break in the shoot, I found a moment to go back to the equipment room to grab a lens I had left behind. Behind me, a shadow fell over me. A familiar woody fragrance drifted into my nose. I turned around stiffly, feigning composure: “Is something wrong, Mr. Sterling?” Julian looked down at me, his gaze exactly the same as years ago. I held my breath, my fingernails digging fiercely into my palms. I can’t lose my cool. “Nothing.” “Just looking around.” Julian’s eyes were pitch black, his smile faint: “But you, Ms. Thorne. What are you so nervous about?” I covered my trembling right hand: “The camera is heavy. Holding it for too long makes my hands shake.” “Is that so?” I lowered my head: “Mr. Sterling, if there’s nothing else, I’ll head back to the set to prep.” Without waiting for his reply, I turned to walk away. “Ms. Thorne,” Julian called out, stopping me. “If someone who betrayed you suddenly appeared in front of you again, what would you do?” 03 My breakup with Julian was ugly, but it could definitely be categorized as a betrayal. And knowing Julian’s personality, if he had recognized me, he would have exposed me immediately. He wouldn’t be acting this cold and detached. I steadied my breathing, turned slightly, and spoke with a smile, adopting a purely professional tone: “Mr. Sterling, while I don’t know the history between you and this person, I believe people should always look forward. There’s no need to stay fixated on the minor details of the past.” “Minor details? You’re very magnanimous, Ms. Thorne.” Julian curled his lip. “But what if I insist on holding onto it?” “Mr. Sterling, that is your private matter. I am just a photographer; I’m afraid I can’t help you there.” Julian stared at me without speaking. My feigned composure felt like it was going to shatter at any second. After a long pause. “True,” Julian smiled. “Just a photographer.” 04 The entire shoot went very smoothly, wrapping up an hour earlier than scheduled. After seeing Julian off, I started packing up my gear. Chloe, a production assistant, ran over, grabbed my arm, and dragged me toward the door: “Harper, hurry! Something big is happening outside!” “What’s wrong? Did someone—” My words caught in my throat. The plaza outside the studio was covered in roses, with candles spelling out my name in the center. How should I describe it? It was incredibly tacky. I had already rejected Carter three times, but he still wouldn’t give up. He even orchestrated this massive, public scene, creating a completely humiliating situation for me. No one knew how awful my face looked under my mask right now. I’m allergic to pollen. Thank God I was wearing a mask. I turned to leave, but Carter blocked my path. He held a bouquet of flowers: “Harper, I really, really like you.” “I promise I’ll treat you well.” “Just say yes, please?” For a moment, my mind drifted. I had said those exact same words to Julian once. 05 My initial attraction to Julian was purely superficial. Out of all the people I had ever met, only Julian perfectly matched my ideal type. A bartender at a club, yet he had an aura that screamed ‘do not approach.’ He wore a hearing aid, which only added to his cold, fragile aesthetic. It was only later that I found out the club belonged to the Sterling family. I was obsessed. I used every trick in the book—relentless pursuit, deception, persuasion. Finally, I managed to coax him into my bed. That night, I whispered so many sweet nothings into his ear: “Julian, I really, really like you.” “Julian, I promise I’ll treat you so well. The absolute best.” “Julian, let’s be together, okay?” Julian lifted his head from my neck, his dark eyes staring intensely into mine: “Do you really… like me that much?” I didn’t have the mental capacity to analyze the turbulent emotions in his eyes: “Mhm. Really.” Julian’s voice was hoarse: “If you promise me that you will only ever love me for the rest of your life, then we’ll be together.” At the time, I didn’t think deeply about his use of ‘the rest of your life.’ I lifted my head and bit his lip: “Okay, only you.” It was only after we got together that I realized Julian’s cold, ascetic persona was a complete act. He was greedier than anyone. I loved taking off his hearing aid during the heat of the moment and whispering dirty things in his ear, screaming recklessly. Watching him try to endure it, even though he couldn’t hear. I was arrogant and had a terrible temper. Julian accommodated me, coaxed me, and let me do whatever I wanted. It made me believe we really would be together for the rest of our lives. Until I accidentally saw a photo of Julian and his father on his phone. A summer afternoon, Julian’s fingers gently running through my hair. The warm hum of the hairdryer next to my ear. It turned out Julian’s last name, Sterling, was the Sterling family. My heart felt like it had been plunged into an ice bath. 06 The cheering crowd snapped me back to reality. At some point, Carter had dropped to one knee. “Say yes! Say yes! Say yes!” More and more people gathered. The cheers grew louder. More and more people were pulling out their phones to record. My cringe reflex was in overdrive. I took a deep breath, reining in my temper: “Carter, I—” My wrist was suddenly clamped in a vice grip. Long, bony fingers squeezed so hard it hurt. I looked up. Our eyes locked. The dark, elongated eyes, like spilled ink, felt like a massive net, threatening to swallow me whole. Julian’s tone was freezing: “Harper, we’re going home.” 07 “What? Afraid I drugged it?” An entire table of food, and every single dish, even the soup, was loaded with chili peppers. I’m the one who loves spicy food. Julian always preferred mild flavors. I paused, completely unable to read Julian’s current intentions. And this apartment—the one we used to share—was actually bought by Julian. I stood up: “Thank you for getting me out of that situation today, Mr. Sterling. It’s getting late, I should be going.” Julian looked up at me, scoffing: “Mr. Sterling? Harper, you’re really quick to draw a line in the sand, aren’t you?” “Since you’re back, shouldn’t we catch up?” I lowered my eyes: “We have nothing to catch up on.” “Nothing?” Julian’s jaw tightened, his voice dripping with mockery. “Right. After all, even if I died right in front of you, you probably wouldn’t even blink.” Julian stared at me, his face as coldly composed as ever, but the veins on his neck were bulging. I looked at him and said softly: “Julian, we are both adults. There’s no need to hold onto the past—” “The past? You’re calling everything we had ‘the past’?” Julian interrupted me, his tone hardening. “Harper, you never fucking loved me at all, did you?” “If you didn’t love me, why did you ever come near me?” Julian gripped my wrist, his eyes dark and brooding: “Harper, I warned you.” “If I ever saw you again, I’d kill you.” “You won’t do it, Julian,” I met his gaze. “I know you.” “You know me? What do you know about me?” “That I’m obedient? Innocent? Compliant? Generous?” Julian scoffed. “I was faking all of it, Harper.” “It was just a disguise to please you.” “Ruthless, selfish, and vindictive. That’s who I really am.” I took a deep breath and said quietly: “Julian, it was my fault for suddenly appearing and bothering you.” “I’ll go to the agency tomorrow and resign. I promise that after—” “Harper.” Julian’s face darkened, his words spoken through gritted teeth. “I really want to cut you open to see if you even have a heart.” The grip on my wrist tightened. The distance between us vanished, our breaths mingling. In Julian’s eyes, desire churned. I struggled fiercely: “Julian, let me go!” The tension was like an arrow about to leave the bowstring. The next second, Julian’s pupils abruptly dilated. He suddenly released me, a storm of emotions raging in his eyes. After a long pause, Julian curled his lip. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or himself: “Fine. Well done, Harper.” 08 Julian slammed the door as he left, locking me inside the apartment. I only then realized my phone must have fallen out in his car. The clock ticked past 3:00 AM, and Julian still wasn’t back. The closet was lined with rows of brand new women’s sleepwear, all thin and provocative. This wasn’t my style. It must be for Julian’s fiancée. Julian was getting engaged. He owned countless properties; why did he have to bring her here to live? A wave of sour bitterness filled my chest. I violently slammed the closet door shut and went to the bathroom to wash up. While washing my face, I noticed several red spots blooming on my neck and collarbone. I belatedly remembered the bouquet Carter had shoved toward me. Dammit. Not only did he humiliate me, but he gave me an allergic reaction. The bedroom door was suddenly pushed open from the outside. Julian, his steps unsteady, walked toward me. The smell of alcohol instantly filled my nose. I scrunched my nose: “Why did you drink so much?” Julian’s voice was hoarse: “After you break up with him, we can pretend everything between you two never happened.” I was stunned: “What does that mean?” Julian’s eyes were tinged with red as he chuckled softly: “What? You can’t bear to part with him?” I dried my hands: “Julian, you’re drunk.” Julian stared at me. The next second, he violently yanked me toward him, turning his head to bite and suck on the side of my neck. A sharp pinch of pain accompanied a tingling sensation. Julian bit down hard: “Harper, if you were going to mess with me, why didn’t you go all the way?” “Why is there someone else?” I instantly realized what he meant and hurriedly explained: “Julian, I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” I pushed him away, creating some distance: “Look closely at these red marks. They’re not hickeys, it’s an allergic reaction! A pollen allergy.” Julian’s cold fingertips traced along my neck, inch by inch. After a long pause, he spoke: “What about me? Do you want to sleep with me?” I froze, not fully processing his words. The next second, Julian pulled off his belt and bound my wrists. The world spun, and my back hit the cold porcelain of the bathtub. I struggled to prop myself up: “Julian, snap out of it. You’re getting engaged.” Julian turned on the water valve, and warm water flowed over my legs. “Yes. So, do you accept my proposal?” Julian looked at me, enunciating every word, “My fiancée.” I was instantly stunned: “The engagement news… was a fake story you released?” “If it wasn’t, how could I get you to come back?” Julian took off his hearing aid and placed it on the shelf. “Harper, I warned you.” His long legs stepped into the bathtub, kneeling on either side of my waist as he leaned down: “If I ever saw you again.” “I would definitely kill you.” 09 My brain buzzed, blood rushing to my head. With Julian’s strength, he could absolutely do what he said. I frantically raised my hands to stop him from getting closer: “Julian, let’s go somewhere else and talk properly, okay?” As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my mistake. Julian… couldn’t hear. But the next second— Julian grabbed both my wrists with one hand, pinning them above my head, and leaned in close to my ear: “As long as you promise you won’t pass out halfway through, I’ll talk to you.” I froze instantly, feeling like I’d been struck by lightning: “Y-you… you can hear me?” Click. The lights went out. The darkness, accompanied by the damp, rising steam, amplified every sensation. Julian chuckled softly: “I never said I couldn’t hear.” “It’s true that I couldn’t hear very well when I took the hearing aid out initially, but someone was always so unapologetically loud.” In the darkness, his voice carried a seductive, alluring tone: “I liked it very much.” ? So all those dirty things I used to say… Julian heard every single word, loud and clear? My face instantly burned. A million imaginary Barbie Dreamhouses were being built by my curling toes. How should I put this? I wanted to run, but I couldn’t. I had no choice but to try a Hail Mary. I pitched my voice higher, faking a tearful, pitiful whimper: “Julian, my wrists hurt.” “Let me go, please?” Julian paused, the grip on my hands subconsciously loosening. This trick always worked flawlessly. I seized the opening and aimed a vicious kick at Julian. But as if he had anticipated it, he caught my leg mid-air. Julian’s fingertips lightly grazed the sole of my foot: “Baby, it’s not a good habit to kick people.” “I’m not letting you escape this time.” The world spun again as our positions reversed. The water splashed against my waist, a tempestuous storm. Julian’s hand pressed firmly down on my lower back: “Harper, say my name.” I bit my lip and turned my head, refusing to answer. Julian didn’t get angry; he abruptly sat up. The sudden movement brought tears to my eyes: “Julian, you’re a fucking bastard!” Julian’s tense body pressed against the shell of my ear, his voice hoarse: “Baby, you’re so beautiful.” ? He actually used the dirty words I used to say against me. A raging hurricane. Julian gave me no room to breathe. I dug my nails fiercely into his back. Heavy breathing, accompanied by the frequent flashes of white light in my mind. Again and again, hovering on the edge of the abyss. Julian kept talking, but I couldn’t hear clearly anymore. My bones felt like jelly, and my vision began to blur. “After all these years, you still haven’t improved,” Julian lifted me from the bathtub, a clear note of pleasure in his voice. “Hold on tight. If you fall, I’m not catching you.” 10 “What? Planning on just walking out like this?” Behind me, the bathroom door opened. The scent of body wash mixed with steam rolled out. Julian leaned against the doorframe. A bead of water slid from the tip of his hair, down his chest, reaching his waist, and finally disappearing beneath his V-line— My face instantly flushed, my eyes darting away: “N-no, I’m just going to the bathroom.” “You’re walking to the living room to use the bathroom?” Julian walked over and scooped me up in a bridal carry. I was wearing Julian’s hoodie, which barely covered the top of my thighs. I felt awkward and instinctively tried to struggle. As if expecting it, Julian pressed his hand against my leg: “Don’t move, unless you want to go another round.” I turned into a statue. “Eat breakfast.” I paused. He even made breakfast? “Or do you want me to feed you?” I shook my head frantically and grabbed a sandwich, gnawing on it. Silence hung between me and Julian. After a long while, Julian spoke: “When do you have time?” I was a bit lost: “What do you mean?” Julian slowly pulled out a napkin and wiped his hands: “To get the marriage license. To get married.” “You can pick out the wedding dress first. Next week—” I choked violently: “W-wait a minute! Marriage license? Marriage?!” Julian shot me a look: “What? Are you regretting it?” I exploded instantly: “What regret? I never agreed! What is there to regret?” Julian said nothing, pulled out his phone, and hit play. A few seconds of audio was enough to make my face turn bright red. “Stop, stop, stop!” I sprang up and lunged to grab the phone from Julian’s hand. I didn’t get the phone, and my feet got tangled, almost making me fall. Thank god Julian caught me. I stammered in panic: “Th-th-that doesn’t count! Words spoken at a time like that can’t be taken seriously!” “Is that so?” Julian rubbed my wrist bone and looked up. “But you also said you loved me.” “I took it seriously.” I froze, my voice hoarse: “Julian, I—” My words were cut off by the sound of the front door opening behind me: “Why are there women’s shoes here? Julian, you sly dog—Harper?!”

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My husband went through a breakup and has been crying himself to sleep every night. I pretended not to hear him, thinking I was handling our boundaries perfectly. But then he accused me of not caring about him. “Harper, I give you a $300,000 allowance every month.” “And this is how you brush me off?” I felt deeply ashamed. So, I called my eight boyfriends over to the house to take turns counseling him. After all, men understand men better, especially when there are so many of them. I didn’t expect him to have a complete meltdown. 01 Nathaniel has been acting weird lately. He stopped going to the gym and quit racing his sports cars. He even changed his Instagram bio to: “I was planning our future, while you were planning your exit.” He used to be out all night, but now he comes home earlier than I do. I flicked on the light and saw him lying on the couch, looking miserable and utterly shattered. Given his state, it was highly likely he had broken up with his latest little canary. As his legally wedded wife, I simply tiptoed to the bedroom door, closed it, and let out a sigh. Thank goodness things with my boyfriend…s are stable. We’re practically glued at the hip, wishing we never had to be apart. … I thought, given how fast Nathaniel changes women, he’d snap out of this heartbreak haze in no time. But his crying got worse every night. At its peak, the bed was literally shaking. I pretended not to hear it, priding myself on mastering the art of marital boundaries. I didn’t expect Nathaniel to suddenly turn around, his eyes swollen like walnuts, and indignantly accuse me: “Harper, I’ve been crying for days, and you’ve been playing deaf the whole time. “You’re just afraid of inconveniencing yourself. “Is this how a wife should act?” I was completely bewildered by his yelling. It took me a few seconds to process it. He actually wanted me to comfort him?! Ha! Men! He gets his heart broken by some girl outside, and he comes home to cry to his wife. We’re married, sure, but it’s not that I wasn’t willing to comfort him. It’s just that I’m madly in love right now, and he’s heartbroken—I couldn’t empathize at all. What if I said the wrong thing and triggered bad memories? The less you say, the fewer mistakes you make. Meeting Nathaniel’s expectant gaze and red nose, I simply offered a flat “Oh.” Nathaniel lost it. He bolted upright from under the covers, pointed a finger at my nose, and raged: “Harper, I give you a $300,000 monthly allowance. “You went from a country farm girl to the Mrs. Sterling everyone envies. “And this is how you repay me? “Do you have no conscience?” Nathaniel unloaded on me. I lowered my head, drowning in guilt. Back then, when I was raising pigs on a farm in Texas and dreaming of getting rich overnight. Nathaniel showed up. He declared: “I hate the arranged marriage they set up for me. I’m going to marry a country pig farmer to piss them off. “Her. She has the goofiest smile.” Just like that, I miraculously became Mrs. Sterling. On our wedding night, turning his handsome profile to me, Nathaniel coldly tossed a black Amex card at me. He delivered the most romantic lines in the world: “Harper, you are just a tool I married. If you’re smart, don’t harbor any unrealistic fantasies. I, Nathaniel Sterling, could never fall for a pig farmer. You may look decent, but we belong to different social classes. “From now on, we live our own lives. To compensate you, I’ll give you a $300,000 monthly allowance. “Don’t complain it’s too little. For a pig farmer like you, this is all you’re worth.” Complain it’s too little? Never. That was $300,000 a month! Besides, this was my area of expertise. I had just buried an old sugar daddy two years ago. This time, there were no annoying stepchildren, no monster-in-law, a husband who never came home, and I didn’t have to have kids. This was a blessing people would fight for. Tonight, it was my duty to soothe him. I slowly reached out, awkwardly patting Nathaniel’s back. My eyes were sincere and full of deep sympathy: “Don’t be sad. Next time, just find one who doesn’t already have a husband.” 02 Before I could say another word. Nathaniel was so enraged his mouth was twitching. He looked like he needed an ambulance. Before slamming the door on his way out, he dropped a threat: “Harper, if you don’t figure out a way to make me feel better, you can kiss this month’s allowance goodbye.” What? That was a death sentence! What was I supposed to do about my eight sweethearts? Winter was coming, and I was counting on that money to buy them custom-tailored luxury coats. I could suffer a little, but they were young and had delicate skin; they couldn’t just settle for anything. I was so anxious I couldn’t sleep. In the middle of the night, I texted a newly added, aloof guy with killer abs on Snapchat. It had been days, and he only ever replied with a lukewarm “Oh.” He was so damn hard to flirt with. Almost as challenging as the old man’s son, Sebastian Reed. Thank God I ran away immediately after the old man was buried. Unable to find a good conversation starter, I just threw caution to the wind and asked: “Hey cutie, my friend’s husband got dumped and cries himself to sleep every night. It’s breaking my friend’s heart. How can she cheer her husband up?” To my surprise, he replied instantly. “It’s simple. Have your friend’s boyfriend comfort him. Men understand men better.” I slapped my thigh. That was brilliant! Why didn’t I think of that? So, the next day. I prepared a feast with top-shelf liquor. I called my eight boyfriends to the house to take turns counseling Nathaniel. After all, men understand men better, especially when there are so many of them. I refused to believe he couldn’t get over it. Boyfriend #1: “Nate, bro, you’re the golden boy of the Manhattan elite. How can you let a woman who doesn’t love you drag you down like this?” Boyfriend #2: “Nate, if she’s gone, she’s gone. The next one will be sweeter.” Boyfriend #3: “Nate, if it’s really that bad, why don’t you try a silent retreat at a monastery for a while?” Boyfriend #4: “Yeah! Yeah! I’ve heard the ‘Wall Street elite turned Zen monk’ aesthetic is huge right now.” With that, Boyfriend #4 pulled out a singing bowl and was about to start chanting with Nathaniel. That wasn’t going to work! I quickly gave Boyfriend #6 a look. Number Six had high emotional intelligence and was a much smoother talker than the rest. He pushed through the group and familiarly threw an arm around Nathaniel’s shoulder: “Nate, bro. A bad breakup or terminal cancer—which do you choose?” Nathaniel stopped crying, thought about it seriously, and answered: “Breakup.” “A breakup or a lifetime of poverty—which do you choose?” “Breakup.” “There you go!” Number Six clapped his hands in satisfaction. “Still sad?” “I guess not as much.” The eight of them had successfully completed their mission. Nathaniel and I watched them leave. For the first time, there was a spark in Nathaniel’s eyes when he looked at me. “Harper, I always thought you were a boring country bumpkin. I never expected you to have such an interesting group of people around you. “Honestly, I’m starting to get curious about you. Maybe you will become the real Mrs. Sterling someday. “If you behave well, I might even consider having a kid with you. “After all, for you women, a child is security. “By the way, what’s your relationship with them?” I was still reluctantly waving goodbye to the eight of them. I answered without thinking: “Boyfriends. These are just the ones from this year; I broke up with last year’s batch. “I’ve got my eye on another one recently. He only posts ab pics on Snapchat, but based on my years of experience, I guarantee he’s super hot. “Too bad he’s so aloof. He barely even replies to my messages. “Hahaha, makes me want him even more!” After saying that, I chuckled creepily for a few seconds. Then I realized what I had done. Damn it. I just outed myself. 03 Nathaniel’s face looked worse than I had ever seen it. The veins on his forehead were bulging, and his jaw was clenched so tight his teeth were grinding. He looked ready to skin me alive. I opened my mouth to explain, but he grabbed my wrist and slammed me hard against the wall. “Harper, I underestimated you. “Tell me the truth, how many times have you cheated on me?” I shakily raised a hand, making a swearing gesture: “I swear, never enough to fill two poker tables at once.” Sob. I was just worried there would be too many people and they wouldn’t get along. Nathaniel laughed, though he was furious: “Great! Taking my allowance and partying harder than me. You’ve really got skills. “If the guys in my circle found out, where would I put my face? “Harper, I don’t think you need to be Mrs. Sterling anymore.” With that, Nathaniel smashed the most expensive vase in the house and stormed out again. I was terrified. My cash cow was divorcing me. This time, I was genuinely panicking. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep. Desperate, I went to Nathaniel’s favorite high-end lounge to find him. In the dimly lit VIP room. Nathaniel sat slouched in the center of the sofa, surrounded by a group of innocent-looking girls. I counted—exactly eight. His imagination was too limited. If it were me, I would have called sixteen. “Well, well, what brings the wife here?” His trust fund friends saw me enter and immediately sat up, looking like they were ready for a show. “Here to drag Nate home?” “Since when did Nate become so whipped?” Hearing this, Nathaniel snorted coldly and mocked: “She really thinks she’s Mrs. Sterling. Overestimating herself.” “Don’t mind him, sister-in-law. Nate just likes to play. “He’ll settle down when he’s older.” I bit my lip and stayed silent. My teary eyes made me look like a fragile, stubborn little flower, humbly begging her lover not to abandon her. “Hubby, I was wrong. Please don’t divorce me. “You are my hero, my true love, the one I want to grow old with. “Without you, I’m a fish out of water. I can’t survive. “Even if you find ten more girls, I don’t mind, as long as you remember to come home.” My passionate confession moved the guys who were hoping for drama to tears. “She loves him so much!” “She’s literally a hopeless romantic.” “What I said earlier was messed up.” The guy slapped his own face. “I’m so jealous Nate has a wife who loves him this much.” Nathaniel’s ego was massively stroked in front of his bros. He shooed away the girls around him, leaving me to help entertain a VIP guest with them. Word was, this VIP came from a prominent family but didn’t rely on his background. He came to New York alone two years ago and now controlled the local economy. Even a born-and-bred elite like Nathaniel had to walk on eggshells around this outsider. In a word: a total boss! I was dying of curiosity to know who this VIP was. The last person who surprised me that much was that psycho, Sebastian. Speaking of Sebastian, he had probably inherited the Reed family empire by now, calling the shots in LA, and married a girl with a background equal to his. They probably even had a second kid on the way. While I was still here, hustling like crazy. I wanted to cry! However, when the VIP room door slowly opened, and I saw the man walk in with his usual aloof expression, sharp features, and an aura that was gentle yet unapproachable… I was dumbstruck. It was Sebastian Reed. He was the VIP they were talking about. What a small world. Why wasn’t he staying in LA? What was he doing here? Was he… here to get revenge for that night? My mind flashed back to the scene of tying his hands and pinning him beneath me. The young man with red eyes, stubbornly saying: “Harper, have you forgotten who you are? You are my stepmother. Do you have no shame? “Stop this right now!” 04 I completely ignored him, ripping off his last piece of clothing: “I didn’t sign a marriage license with your old man, what kind of stepmother am I? “Aren’t you going around spreading rumors that we’re sleeping together? Today I’ll show you what that really means.” What followed was behavior worse than a wild animal, absolutely reprehensible. The high-and-mighty young master of the Reed family was ruined by me just like that. Afterward, Sebastian refused to admit defeat, viciously warning me: “Harper, you better pray you never fall into my hands.” I didn’t take it seriously. When he fell asleep from exhaustion. I pulled my pants up and fled in the dead of night. Just thinking about how furious he must have been when he woke up the next day and couldn’t find me to vent his anger made me feel incredibly satisfied. I thought I would never cross paths with Sebastian again in this lifetime. I didn’t expect us to run into each other tonight. Knowing his petty, vengeful personality, he would definitely tear me into pieces. After all, rumor had it the Reed family’s wealth was built on some shady business. Ugh… it was all the alcohol’s fault. As a good woman, I just made a mistake any woman could make. I prayed to Buddha that he wouldn’t spot me. So I quietly backed up behind the crowd, planning to slip away when they weren’t looking. Success was right in front of me. When suddenly, a waiter pushed the door open. I was exposed in broad daylight. And that sharp gaze immediately locked onto me. “Mrs. Sterling bears a striking resemblance to an old acquaintance of mine. If you didn’t look closely, you might think they were the same person,” Sebastian said lightly, glancing at me. A cigarette was lit between his fingers, the smoke slowly rising. My heart leapt into my throat. Nathaniel’s friends joked: “What a coincidence! Could this old acquaintance be your ex-girlfriend, Mr. Reed?” Sebastian chuckled: “She was my stepmother. She ran away the very night the old man was buried. I have no idea what she was running from. Was she worried my family couldn’t afford to keep her? What do you think, Mrs. Sterling?” “Me?” I shakily wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Maybe she was just too kind and didn’t want to be a burden to you.” “Kind?” Sebastian looked as if he had heard a hilarious joke. “This stepmother of mine is a textbook toxic woman. While the old man was still alive, she blatantly cheated on him.” “What? That’s insane!” “There are women like that in the world?” “Our sister-in-law is nothing like her. Sister-in-law is absolutely devoted and deeply in love with Nate. And she is incredibly innocent. Besides Nate, there will absolutely never be a second man. Right, Nate?” Nathaniel’s grip on his glass tightened so much it almost shattered. “That’s right. Besides me, Harper will absolutely never have a second man.” Nathaniel’s friends shot me looks, clearly wanting credit for hyping me up. I facepalmed in despair. You guys are absolute geniuses. Sebastian raised an eyebrow: “Mrs. Sterling sounds like a truly wonderful woman. “If I manage to find that stepmother, I’ll definitely bring her back to my family and treat her with all the ‘filial piety’ she deserves.” 05 The last few words were said through gritted teeth. After finishing, he forcefully stubbed out his cigarette. I suddenly felt a suffocating sensation, like someone was choking me. I couldn’t say a word of my suffering. Is it possible that the guy I hooked up with was your old man’s lover? I was just a tool who took $10 million to be his cover. Why was all the blame being pinned on me? I was more wronged than a falsely accused martyr. I shakily put down my wine glass, my face pale, and said to Nathaniel beside me: “Hubby, I just remembered I have soup on the stove at home. I need to go back first.” Sob, that kid’s intimidating aura is even stronger than it was two years ago. The way he stared at me sent shivers down my spine. Once out of the room, I wanted to slap myself a few times. “Harper, Harper, you brought this on yourself. Why didn’t you just take the money and run? Why did you have to go out of your way to offend that psycho Sebastian? “When he goes crazy, he even starts rumors about himself. “No, I need to figure out a way to run.” Suddenly, a pair of strong, powerful hands grabbed my arm and pulled me into an empty room next door. Before I could react, I was pinned against the wall by Sebastian in a highly compromising position. No, seriously, why do all you VIPs and elite heirs love cornering people against walls? If you guys aren’t sick of it, I am. Sebastian irritably yanked his tie loose, completely stripping away his previous gentle and refined demeanor. “I was wondering why I couldn’t find you. You were hiding in the countryside. Harper, you really are full of surprises. “You kept claiming you’d fight me for the inheritance once the old man died. So why did you run away when he actually died? “I honestly thought you’d stay and fight me for the rest of our lives. “Why are you trembling? Are you really that afraid of me?” I was practically in tears. I’m just a few years older than you, how brave do you think I am? Cause trouble and run, just waiting to get payback? “Harper… no, I should call you Mrs. Sterling now. Two years, and you don’t have anything to say to me? “Or is Mrs. Sterling so forgetful that she’s already forgotten what she did to me that night?” Sebastian furrowed his brows. The grip on my wrist tightened, leaving a red mark on my pale skin. I fought back the pain, tears welling in my eyes, and looked at him pitifully. “Sebastian, you think you’re so smart. Have you ever considered I might have had my reasons? “Actually, I have a split personality. “The one who did those absurd things to you was my second personality. I was afraid she would hurt you, so I was forced to leave.” “Harper, do you think I’m that love-struck old man, so mesmerized by you that I’d believe this kind of garbage?” Sebastian angrily pinned my palm against the wall and leaned in close. Suddenly being this close, my heart involuntarily sped up. This guy Sebastian is absolutely not meant to be viewed up close. Those eyes are like a fox spirit’s, totally captivating. At the time, I only wanted to scare him. Who knew I wouldn’t be able to control myself and actually kissed him. Sebastian struggled at first, but later he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me back even harder than I was kissing him. Taking a step back, wasn’t he at fault too? You guys have no idea, my back was practically broken the night I ran away. Who on earth said the first time is always fast? It really depends on the person. “Played with me and ran, didn’t even leave a word, and went off and married someone else. Harper, what do you take me for?” 06 I got it. He wanted me to compensate him. I caught on immediately: “I have some savings.” “Do I look like I need your spare change?” “I have extra fingers. Do you want to chop one off to cool down? But let’s get this straight: you can only chop off one.” “I’m not the freaking mafia! How many times do I have to tell you?” This wouldn’t work, that wouldn’t work. I just threw it all out there: “I still have a spot open for a sugar baby. Do you want the job?” Sebastian’s face turned completely black. He clenched his fists, eyes wide with anger: “I am not going to be the other man. Divorce him.” ??? This plot development is weird. It feels like the evil stepsister wanting to be the female lead. Did he actually catch feelings from that one night? I shook my head vigorously. Absolutely impossible. Back when I was at his family’s estate, he hated the sight of me and constantly made my life difficult. We fought openly and secretly for two years. Even his old man would shake his head and sigh, claiming life was unbearable and he wanted to die early. No, wait, he wanted to go to heaven early for some peace and quiet. Several times, I caught the old man secretly trying to pull his own oxygen tube. Thank goodness I stopped him in time. To sum it up. He definitely wants revenge. But why was his method of revenge sending me flirty texts? For several days in a row, Nathaniel got blackout drunk and had to be carried back by his friends and his driver. Strange. I didn’t see him get this drunk when he went through his breakup. Out of curiosity, I asked his friend. His friend sighed: “Don’t even mention it. Last time, the business deal didn’t go through. For days now, Sebastian has been drinking with Nate like his life depends on it, making sure Nate doesn’t go home sober. “If you didn’t know better, you’d think Nate stole his wife.” I silently lowered my head, not daring to make a peep… The next afternoon. When Nathaniel woke up, I was in the living room binge-watching a show. After freshening up. He suddenly said he was taking me out to eat. The location was a romantic couples’ restaurant. Before the food even arrived, he expressionlessly tossed a bank card at me. “There’s $5 million in there. Take this money and break it off with those guys, and I’ll pretend this never happened. “Harper, this is my final bottom line. “Don’t let it happen again.” I nervously took the bank card: “Thank you, Hubby.” It really was time to switch out for a new batch of guys. Suddenly, there was a loud crash behind me. I turned to look. A pure-looking waitress had accidentally dropped a bottle of red wine. The manager rushed over upon hearing the noise. He started berating the waitress. I was just enjoying the show. Who knew Nathaniel would suddenly lose his mind, roll his eyes at me, and take large strides over to shield the waitress. 07 “How much is it? I’ll pay for her.” Seeing that the person was Nathaniel, the manager quickly adopted a respectful attitude. But the waitress was as stubborn as a mule, giving off major female-lead-in-a-drama vibes. “No need. I can pay for it myself.” The manager almost died of anger. “With your $4,000-a-month salary, how are you going to pay for it? Do you know how much this bottle costs? Selling yourself wouldn’t even cover it.” Nathaniel shot the manager a displeased glare. He uncharacteristically humbled himself: “Stop trying to be brave. Between us…” “There is nothing between us. I don’t need your help.” Feeling deeply insulted, the waitress had an emotional breakdown, covered her mouth, and trotted toward the back kitchen. As she ran, she shot me a fierce glare. Nathaniel didn’t hesitate to chase after her. The onlookers, including myself and the manager, were stunned. What a dramatic couple. More entertaining than a reality TV show. Jokes aside. I was very curious to see how dramatic the next part of the plot would be. So I followed them. Sure enough, when I reached the door of the locker room. I heard ambiguous sounds coming from inside. My heart pounded wildly. Through the crack, I could clearly see the two people kissing passionately inside. It was Nathaniel and the waitress from earlier. It looked like she was the little canary Nathaniel was keeping. “Mr. Sterling, we’re already broken up, what are you doing? “If your wife sees, she’ll call me a homewrecker. “Don’t… ah…” The girl’s soft, sweet voice was shattered by Nathaniel’s thrusts. I was too absorbed in watching. I accidentally bumped the door. The people inside noticed and immediately stopped their shameful actions. I turned to run, but unexpectedly crashed into a solid chest. Sebastian! In a moment of desperation, I tried to push Sebastian forward. But he anticipated my scheme a step ahead. He pulled me and hid in the locker room next door. In the cramped space, Sebastian and I were pressed tightly together. The atmosphere was indescribably weird. I shuffled my feet, trying to get further away from him. Then I heard Sebastian’s deep voice from above: “What exactly are you holding onto with him?” 08 I stubbornly replied, “Love.” Sebastian chuckled lightly. “That doesn’t sound like you. To you, love is more like a take-it-or-leave-it accessory.” I didn’t answer. When Sebastian walked me to the door, he suddenly blurted out out of nowhere, “Harper, you have all these boyfriends… what exactly are you looking for?” I didn’t understand what he meant at the time. It wasn’t until the day I arranged to meet my boyfriends that it clicked. That afternoon. I changed into a black dress and a black coat, determined to look as melancholic as possible. They had been with me for six months. Even though we hadn’t slept together, they had provided plenty of emotional value. So I wasn’t going to shortchange them. I arrived at the coffee shop. From a distance, I saw the eight of them taking up two whole tables. A wave of emotion washed over me. I remembered the first time I met them. The salesgirl saw me sitting in the middle and thought I was a modeling scout, looking at me like I was a snack. Until I pulled out a bank card and placed it on the table. She gave me a thumbs-up, her mouth hanging open in shock. I didn’t care about what others thought. I held their hands, overwhelmed with sadness: “There’s $5 million in here. Split it among the eight of you. Go find some good girls to marry. “Just pretend… pretend I never existed.” With that, I covered my face and stood up to leave. Number One, his eyes completely red, stopped me. Number Six pushed the bank card back to me: “Sister, keep this money for yourself. Someone has already arranged everything for us.” “Don’t worry, Sister, we’ll be fine.” “The time we spent with you was wonderful, we’ll always remember you.” “Let’s not contact each other anymore.” With that, the eight of them walked away without looking back. Leaving me standing there, completely dumbfounded. Who the hell stole my scene?! My favorite part of dating was breaking up—handing over the payout while looking deep into their eyes and saying, “I love you so much, but we can never see each other again.” Now, it felt like I was the one being bought off and dumped. I was so angry my whole body was shaking. Six months of build-up. Ruined! It had to be Sebastian, that bastard. Sebastian’s explanation was: “I don’t even want to be the other man, and you want me to be number nine? “Harper, I, Sebastian Reed, am not that kind of guy. You have to take responsibility for me.” I was so furious I almost smashed my phone. I stormed home, and before I could even take a sip of water, Nathaniel shoved me in front of several effeminate-looking men. “Please, gentlemen. She has a gala to attend tonight.” A few hours passed. I stepped out of the room wearing an elegant, minimalist haute couture gown. Nathaniel and his buddies were dumbstruck. “This is the sister-in-law?” “Oh my god, dressed up, she’s prettier than a movie star.” “Nate, I suddenly feel like you don’t deserve her, hahaha!” Their exaggerated reactions were understandable. To maintain my image as a pig farmer, I usually dressed as frumpy as possible. All for the sake of professionalism. That’s why Nathaniel kept calling me a country bumpkin. He thought I wasn’t good enough for him. Now, wearing this glamorous outfit, it felt like I was back in the Reed household. Even though the old man and I were in a fake marriage, he never skimped on my living expenses. And Sebastian was the same. Whatever I wanted, it would appear in my room the next day. At the gala, I caused quite a stir. No other reason than everyone knew I was the country girl Nathaniel brought home to piss off his parents. They didn’t expect me to look nothing like they imagined. “That’s Mrs. Sterling?” “I heard she got plastic surgery to win Nathaniel back.” “What a hopeless romantic, embarrassing all of us women.” ??? Wait, who started these rumors? You high-society people actually believe this garbage? I shook my head in disappointment, then retreated to a corner to text the aloof guy with abs.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “420125”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When I was eighteen, Vaughn Sterling, with a cigarette dangling from his lips, hooked his finger into the back tie of my dress and dragged me out of hell. “You guys don’t want her?” “Fine, I’ll keep her.” Later on, he trapped me against his chest, deliberately tempting me: “I’m getting sick of hearing you call me ‘Uncle Vaughn.’ Want to change it?” I suppressed my frantically beating heart: “C-change it to what?” The man’s voice carried a wicked smile: “We’re not related by blood anyway. What do you think?” 01 My first meeting with Vaughn Sterling was far from pleasant. That day, I was watching the family shop as usual. Exhausted, I had just rested my head on the counter and fallen asleep. Hearing a noise, I jolted awake and stood up. The first thing I saw was a face that was far too handsome. It was aggressive. Seductive. He looked exactly like the beautiful, dangerous immortals described in fantasy novels. I stared at him in a daze, not realizing he had already called out to me several times. “Tsk,” Vaughn’s eyes glinted with a layer of disgust. “Little girl, you’re drooling.” The moment he said that, I snapped out of it. Muttering an apology, I sprinted to the bathroom to clean myself up. When I returned, my messy braids were undone, falling loose down my back, and my face was washed clean. “Are you looking to buy a bottle, or do you need a room?” I looked at the man sitting in the wicker chair, biting down on a cigarette. My eyes were glued to his long, crossed legs; I couldn’t look away. My family originally just ran a small local liquor store, but because we were near a scenic national park, my dad had converted the second floor into a motel to host tourists. Vaughn only wanted a bottle of our craft bourbon. But as his eyes swept over my face, he suddenly pulled back the hundred-dollar bills he had laid on the counter. He changed his mind. He said he was staying the night. “What’s your name?” he asked. “Avery,” I answered honestly. “Got a boyfriend?” It was phrased as a question, but the man clearly didn’t care about the answer. He grabbed my wrist and yanked me forward. Vaughn’s legs trapped mine, and his long, elegant fingers effortlessly slipped under the hem of my shirt. 02 “How old are you?” His tone was frivolous. Feeling a dangerously unusual vibe, I violently pulled myself away. My back slammed into the wooden liquor cabinet, hurting so much it messed up my breathing. “I’m… I’ll be eighteen in less than a month.” The man’s gaze slid over my chest. He didn’t believe me. Until he spotted the high school textbooks sitting on the counter nearby. He believed me. “Fuck.” The cigarette slipped from Vaughn’s fingers and fell to the floor. He looked annoyed and embarrassed. “You’re an underage kid, and you’re out here watching the shop in the middle of the night?” “My… my dad told me to.” He looked incredibly angry. I was so scared I shrank into the corner. My nose stung, and I let out a few pathetic, stifled sobs. Hearing me cry, Vaughn rubbed his temples in frustration and buttoned up his previously loose shirt. He left. I thought he wouldn’t stay here anymore. But a little while later, he came back holding several large shopping bags. “I’ve never coaxed a kid before.” “Eat this, and you’re not allowed to cry anymore.” He tossed the bags to me. I opened them and saw food, snacks, and gadgets—things I always wanted but could never afford. I was a little happy. But not just because of the gifts. After doing all that, Vaughn didn’t rush upstairs. Instead, he lay back in the wicker chair by the door, closing his eyes to rest. He didn’t say a word. But I knew he was intentionally staying with me, giving me courage in the dark. He probably didn’t know. That was the safest, most peaceful night I had experienced since my mom died. 03 Vaughn paid me several crisp hundred-dollar bills. Enough to cover his room for a long time. I used to dread coming home from school, but now I couldn’t wait. Because Vaughn only showed up at night when I was watching the shop alone. When the weekend finally arrived, I woke up early and busied myself downstairs. But I never saw him come down. I was frustrated that I didn’t have an excuse to go find him, until I realized the ancient water heater was acting up again. It was practically a godsend. When I went up to deliver a kettle of hot water, he wasn’t fully awake. His silk shirt hung loosely, his belt unbuckled. He looked like a wealthy heir recovering from a wild night of indulgence. I didn’t dare look at him. I put the kettle down and tried to leave, but he raised an arm to block me: “Kid, grab me a towel.” His voice was low, raspy, and lazy. A shiver ran down my spine, and it felt like something was going to jump out of my chest. The motel towels were cheap bulk buys my dad got from the flea market. After thinking about it, I ran to my own room and grabbed a brand-new towel. I also made a piping hot glass of honey water. When I dropped off the kettle, I had smelled a faint scent of alcohol on him. However, when I went back, I saw Vaughn flirting with a female tourist. The man’s large hand, with its prominent veins, gripped the curvy woman’s waist without an ounce of tenderness. Half of his head was hidden behind her bare shoulder. … The scene was too intense for me. My body lost all its strength, and I couldn’t breathe. Crash. The glass cup shattered at my feet. The boiling water splashed, and I cried out in pain. At that exact moment, Vaughn stopped what he was doing. 04 “Are you cursed or something?” Vaughn grumpily grabbed my ankle and ran it under cold water in the sink. To escape his annoying family drama, he had specifically chosen this remote, secluded town. Figuring there were plenty of women around, he hadn’t brought anyone with him. But he had been here for almost a week and hadn’t found anyone to his liking. He had just bumped into one, and I ruined it. “I’m sorry…” I kept my head down, my eyes burning red. “Just my bad luck.” Seeing that I was on the verge of crying, Vaughn quickly changed his tune, his voice softening considerably: “Alright, I don’t blame you.” Only then did I break into a teary smile. I don’t know if the morning’s incident ruined his mood, but surprisingly, Vaughn didn’t go out. After treating my burn, he stayed downstairs the whole time. He either teased the stray dog in the yard or tossed me pieces of candy, hovering around me. “You look like a good student, but you’re doing terrible on these practice problems.” His gaze fell on my workbook. My face flushed red, and I used my body to block his view: “I… I missed a lot of classes…” “So there are a lot of things I haven’t learned.” “Why?” Vaughn paused, tapping his cigarette ash into an ashtray. “My dad doesn’t want me to go to school.” Just mentioning that man made my back and cheeks sting with phantom pain. “He makes me work… if I don’t finish, I can’t go out.” Hearing my words, the man didn’t say anything. He pulled up a chair and sat right next to me, his long legs almost brushing against mine. “Give me the book.” 05 Seeing me unresponsive, Vaughn gave a lazy smile: “What? You think a degenerate like me doesn’t know how to study?” “Relax. I’m more than qualified to teach you.” He really didn’t look like the type to sit quietly and study. He had an aura that suggested he was raised in extreme wealth and luxury. Plus, the things he did made him seem like a playboy heir treating the world like his playground. But who could have guessed? This man had earned dual PhDs from a top Ivy League university by the time he was twenty. Half-skeptical, I handed him the textbook. To my surprise, Vaughn was incredibly good at teaching. He explained things so clearly that I understood instantly, and my efficiency in solving problems skyrocketed. Just as I was immersed in the joy of learning, I realized he only had two days left before his checkout date. An unspeakable sadness filled me. The night before he was supposed to leave, I was miserable. Until— Vaughn slid a platinum credit card across the counter. “Extending my stay.” “I need to see your report card with my own eyes. Otherwise, I won’t feel any sense of accomplishment.” He didn’t specify how many days he was staying. Holding that card, I practically wanted to jump for joy. 06 The day the quiz grades came out, I ranked first in the class. It was the first time I got a perfect score in Physics. I was so excited I cooked two extra meat dishes to thank Vaughn. But instead of him, I ended up waiting for my dad, who had been gambling heavily for the past two weeks. He had lost money again. Carrying the suffocating stench of alcohol and violence, he flipped the table full of delicious food. Then, he mercilessly grabbed a cane and started whipping me. His arrogant curses and the whistling sound of the cane breaking the air rained down on me like a storm. I scrambled to dodge, begging for mercy, hoping to awaken whatever conscience he had left. But it only resulted in more brutal abuse. This nightmare, which had lasted for nearly ten years, finally ended when Vaughn appeared. Hiding in a cabinet, I watched him kick my dad squarely in the chest, sending the pathetic man flying several feet away. As if that wasn’t enough, Vaughn stepped hard on the hand that held the cane, grinding his heel into it. I turned my head away, unable to watch. Until—someone opened the cabinet door. Along with a sliver of daylight came Vaughn, his eyes full of heartbreak. He knelt in front of me, blocking the view of my deranged father, who was desperately stuffing the cash Vaughn had dropped into his pockets. “Don’t be afraid.” Vaughn brushed aside the sweat-soaked hair sticking to my face. When his gaze fell on my torn, tattered dress, a dark, heavy gloom settled in his eyes. He smoothly pulled my exposed straps back into place, wrapping his jacket around me. Then, he carried me out. My emotional state was a wreck. The man patiently coaxed me for a long time, letting me wipe my tears and snot all over his neck. Once I stopped crying so miserably, he finally stood up, wanting to take me to the hospital. “No…” I stopped him, shaking my head. These injuries would heal on their own. I had no money for the hospital, and I was terrified of hospitals. Unable to persuade me, Vaughn had someone rush over with a bunch of medical supplies. My dad hadn’t left, and Vaughn was afraid I’d be beaten again. So, he just let me sleep in his room. 07 When I woke up, the room was eerily quiet. Vaughn’s room was completely filled with his scent. It smelled amazing and seemed to have a sleep-inducing effect on me. The moment he went to cook, I fell fast asleep. “Vaughn?” I called out tentatively. The next second, a silk ribbon was suddenly tied over my eyes. I nervously clenched the blankets beneath me. But I relaxed when I smelled his familiar scent. When I opened my eyes, the room was pitch black. There was only a single cluster of warm light. It was coming from candles on a birthday cake. “Happy birthday, Avery.” This was the first time Vaughn had called me by my full name. Such an elegant name coming from his mouth sounded incredibly beautiful. My voice choked up: “How did you know…” Ever since my mom died, I hadn’t celebrated a single birthday. As long as my dad didn’t beat me, I considered it a birthday gift. “Saw a text notification pop up on your phone.” Vaughn teased: “Good thing you’re a heavy sleeper. Otherwise, where would I find the time to prepare this?” “First time celebrating a birthday with someone. You’re pretty lucky.” The man casually wiped away my tears and used his thumb to dab a bit of frosting onto my nose. “Make a wish.” Originally… I only had one wish. But now, looking at Vaughn, I thought I had a second one. 08 Maybe I was too greedy. My birthday wish didn’t come true. In fact, I didn’t even get to see Vaughn one last time before he left. It was raining heavily in town. I sat at the cherry wood desk as usual, staring at my blank test paper. If Vaughn hadn’t left, he would be sitting here, peeling walnuts for me, teasing me in his lazy drawl: “Wow, as expected of my student. You’re so smart.” Humans are like that. Once you taste sweetness, you never want to eat bitterness again. Even though I had made do for over a decade, after tasting the food he cooked, everything else felt impossible to swallow. Even though I was used to wearing ill-fitting old clothes, after wearing the pretty dresses he bought me, everything else felt unbearable. I bit my lip and wiped the tears from my face. I wrote a few words on the paper: Test into a college in his city. My wish was to go to a university in the same city as him. But I was too naive. Because my dad had no intention of letting me study. Worse, the day after Vaughn left, he tried to marry me off to a creepy, older bachelor in the next town to settle a gambling debt. A few older women held me down on the bed, forcing me into a cheap red dress. I cried and begged him not to sell me. But that so-called “father” had long lost his humanity. He pulled my hair and laughed triumphantly: “No one to protect you this time, you worthless money-drain.” “You hung around that guy every day, I thought you were going to fly up the social ladder and become a phoenix. But all he did was pay some useless tuition fees for you.” “But he gave me an idea. While you’re still pure, I can get a good price for you. If you run off with some wild man one day, I’d lose out, wouldn’t I?” Hearing those words, I felt like I was plunged into an ice cave. My hands and feet were bound with thick rope. I had nowhere to run. 09 But I never expected that Vaughn would come back. When he carried me out of the car, his tone was casual: “Kid, I haven’t been gone that long and you’re already in trouble? Are you a magnet for trouble or what?” Seeing that handsome face, I immediately burst into tears. It was the aftermath of extreme terror. I clung to Vaughn like a koala, refusing to let go. He tried a few times to peel me off him, but seeing how clingy I was, he finally compromised and let me hold him. My dad and that older man were beaten severely. When they crawled up from the ground, they spewed filthy curses at Vaughn, telling him to mind his own business. Seeing him unfazed, my dad went completely crazy, grabbing a weapon to hit me. He had taken that old man’s money to gamble. I had to marry him today, whether I wanted to or not. Afraid of dragging Vaughn into it, I proactively dropped to my knees to beg my dad. But I was grabbed by the back of the neck and lifted up. “Following a piece of garbage like this, it’s normal to be a little cowardly. However…” “A teacher for a day is a father for life. It makes sense for me to educate you on his behalf, right?” The last sentence was directed at my dad. Before I could react, Vaughn pressed something cold and metallic into my palm. A metal pipe. Then he grabbed my arm, raised it high, and brought it down hard. Smack. The man who was arrogant a second ago instantly turned into a puddle of mud, lying on the ground groaning endlessly. “Understand, kid?” “This is how you deal with scum. You have to hit them where it hurts. Efficiency is key.” Vaughn used real force that time. My palm was numb from the impact. But my heart felt incredibly vindicated. 10 My dad said he was going to call the cops. But when he saw the look in Vaughn’s eyes, he suddenly became very quiet. I didn’t know why. Then I saw Vaughn smiling, stepping on my dad’s head, and gesturing to the older bachelor with his finger. I don’t know what the man said, but the old man, already pale with fright, looked like he had seen a ghost. He trembled like a leaf. “You… you sold your daughter to me, so she’s mine! Now I’m giving her to him.” “I… I don’t want her anymore. It’s none of my business. Whoever wants her can have her.” “I don’t want her.” Vaughn was very satisfied. With a cigarette in his mouth, he hooked his finger into the back tie of my dress, pulling me toward him. “Hmm? None of you want her?” “Fine, I’ll keep her.” After saying that, he lifted my chin, forcing me to look up. In my line of sight, Vaughn’s narrow eyes were devilishly captivating. He exhaled a puff of white smoke. He asked me: “Kid. Want to come with me?” 11 I followed Vaughn back to the Sterling estate. Seeing that castle-like architecture, I truly realized that Vaughn and I were not from the same world. The men and women in uniforms called the man beside me “Young Master.” I had only seen scenes like this on TV. I was so nervous I could barely take a step. Until a large hand rested on the back of my head, and Vaughn unceremoniously ruffled my hair. “What are you spacing out for? We’re home.” That simple phrase “we’re home” made my eyes sting and filled me with deep anxiety. Back in my hometown, I had agreed so readily. I never stopped to think… would Vaughn’s family hate me? However, facts proved I was overthinking. I didn’t expect that only one person lived in this massive house. And it was an older man. Vaughn called him by his full name, Arthur Sterling. The man in his fifties just called him a little brat. I was totally confused. Thankfully, the housekeeper reminded me that this was Vaughn’s biological father. I had to call him Grandpa. Grandpa was thrilled by my arrival. Not only did he prepare a lavish family dinner, but he also excitedly told Vaughn to take me to pick out a bedroom. Dresses and jewelry were sent to my room by the pile. He treated me exactly like his own granddaughter. Even the maids in the house affectionately called me “Little Miss.” Overnight, I went from hell to heaven. 12 Vaughn transferred my school records at lightning speed. He enrolled me in the best prep school in the city. I was happy at first, until the pretty class president led the charge to isolate and bully me. Only then did I understand… class is an uncrossable chasm. At my strong request, I enrolled as a sponsored, low-income student. For my daily commute, I chose the most eco-friendly option: taking the bus. Probably because I was too out of place among those rich kids, they targeted me. I didn’t tell Vaughn about this. But he noticed something was wrong. “Tell me, what happened?” The man first checked my forehead to ensure I wasn’t sick, then looked at me expectantly. I mumbled: “Studying… is a bit hard.” This wasn’t a lie. Compared to my small-town school, this place focused much more on comprehensive development. Just the spoken language classes alone made me feel inadequate. Vaughn didn’t think this was a big deal. He said he would hire tutors for me, adding that I was very smart and catching up to the top students was only a matter of time. Finally, he looked at me, his tone teasing: “Also—kid, do you think I’m just a decoration?”

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When no one was looking, he pinned me against the wall and kissed me. “Tali, you belong to me. “No matter where you run, I will find you.” His voice burned with a feverish madness. I trembled in his grip. After all these years, his “sickness” seemed to have only grown worse. 1 I stepped through the front door and froze. Silas Vance was sitting in our living room. Five years ago, I had dumped him. Back then, he was a boy who had begged me to stay, a boy who looked like he would die without me. Now, the boyishness was gone. He was dressed in a crisp, perfectly tailored white shirt and black slacks. His dark tie was knotted with military precision. He looked every bit the corporate elite. I stood there, paralyzed. I never imagined our paths would cross like this. The world is a cruel place. My father was getting remarried. His bride? My ex-boyfriend’s mother. And the two of them had already moved into our house. Silas and I locked eyes for a split second before I jerked my gaze away. “Tali. “This is Silas Vance. He’s older than you, so you should treat him as your brother. “Actually, you two went to the same high school. What a small world, right?” My father began enthusiastically introducing my ex-boyfriend to me. 2 “Hi, Tali. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Silas smiled at me and extended his hand, acting as if this were our very first encounter. My fingers curled into a tight fist at my side. Compared to his effortless composure, I was a nervous wreck. Our breakup hadn’t been civil. I had discovered his secret. He was sick. He was obsessively possessive and deeply unstable. I had found his journals. I had seen the darkness in his mind. He had written about things he wanted to do to me—locking me away, making sure I could never leave him, making sure he was the only person I would ever see. Those words were filled with a raw, violent intensity. God knows how terrified my teenage self had been when I read them. “Tali, your brother is talking to you.” My father nudged my arm, prompting me to respond. “Hello,” I forced out. The words felt like stones in my mouth. At dinner, my mind was a chaotic mess. The food tasted like ash. Every time my eyes accidentally met Silas’s, I looked away, my heart hammering against my ribs. I couldn’t finish the meal. Eventually, I made an excuse and bolted to my room. I grabbed my phone and texted my best friend. [Gwen, do you know what Silas Vance has been up to all these years?] [Is he okay? Did he… ever date anyone else?] This was the first time since the breakup that I had dared to ask about him. Gwen’s reply came almost instantly. [Where did this come from?] [I haven’t heard of him dating anyone. He’s doing great, actually. He started his own tech firm. I think they’re about to go public.] [He’s a genius, Tali. But seriously, why did you dump him back then?] [He was obsessed with you. He would have done anything you asked.] [Actually… there’s something I never told you. I didn’t want to freak you out or make you feel guilty.] [Tali, Silas tried to kill himself.] [It was right after you broke up with him and moved away for college.] [They said there was so much blood. He barely made it.] I stared at the screen, my vision blurring. My hand began to shake. The weight of that word—suicide—felt like a physical blow. 3 I couldn’t sleep that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I thought of what Gwen had said. Even after all this time, the gravity of it felt suffocating. What was he thinking now? After all these years, did he still feel something for me? Or had he finally let it go? And what about his “condition”? I sat up and reached for my water bottle, only to find it empty. Sighing, I slipped out of bed and headed to the kitchen. In the heavy silence of the house, a tall figure approached from behind. By the time I realized I wasn’t alone, Silas was already standing beside me. He was still wearing the same white shirt and slacks. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing the lean, corded muscle of his forearms. Being alone with him in the dark, with that new information echoing in my head, made me bite my lip in panic. “Do you… do you need water?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. “Yeah.” Silas gave a short nod and handed me his glass. I took it and filled it for him, my movements jerky. “Tali.” His deep, resonant voice drifted down from above me. “How have you been? Were you happy while you were away?” “Yeah. I was fine,” I whispered. “Silas, I… I hope we can just be civil.” My mother passed away years ago. Now that my father had found happiness with Silas’s mother, I truly wanted him to have a good life. I wanted everyone to be happy. “Can we just let the past be the past?” Silas didn’t answer. He just stared at my face with those dark, unreadable eyes. “Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll take that as an agreement. “Silas, we’re not kids anymore. You know what I mean.” I spoke firmly, my eyes reflexively darting to his wrist. He was wearing a silver watch on his left hand. A dark thought flashed through my mind, but I suppressed it immediately. I wouldn’t let myself go there. “It’s late. I’m going back to bed.” I hurried past him, my heart racing. I could feel his gaze burning into my back all the way down the hall. The next morning, I left the house early to avoid him. But fate had other plans. I walked into my job interview, and the man sitting across the desk from me—my potential boss—was Silas. 4 I hadn’t expected this. When I was told the CEO wanted to interview me personally because my resume was “impressive,” I actually felt flattered. Then I walked into the top-floor office and saw Silas. “Sit.” He gestured to the chair across from his mahogany desk. He looked perfectly at ease. On the desk, I saw a takeout bag from my favorite breakfast spot from college. He hadn’t forgotten. But for me, that wasn’t a good sign. It was a warning. “Tali, you left so early this morning you didn’t have breakfast. “Eat.” I hesitated for a few seconds before dragging myself to the chair. “I didn’t know this was your company.” If I had, I never would have applied. “I know.” Silas nodded. He picked up a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, and lit it. He used to be the “golden boy” in school—the perfect student. I couldn’t even associate the image of him smoking with the person I used to know. “Do you mind?” I shook my head and opened the food container. I was actually hungry. The atmosphere in the office was suffocating. Even though Silas was acting normal, I knew deep down—he still loved me. He slid a folder across the desk toward me. I looked down. [Diagnostic Report] was written in bold letters. My heart skipped a beat. “Tali, I’m better now. “Those things you saw in my journal… I admit, I had those thoughts. “But I know the difference between fantasy and reality. “I’m not a monster. I would never actually hurt you.” I cut him off before he could continue. “Silas. “My boyfriend is coming into town today. “I have to go pick him up from the airport.” I looked up and saw the mask of composure slip. His face went dark, the “civil” facade vanishing instantly. To be honest, during all those years apart, I hadn’t been completely indifferent. There were nights when I missed him. There were moments when I thought about going back. But those thoughts died yesterday. Knowing our parents were together made any future for us impossible. I wanted to draw a hard line between us. Silas looked like he was on the verge of a breakdown. He stared at me, his pupils blown wide. My rejection had hit a nerve. In that moment, he looked just as dangerous as he had five years ago. 5 I fled his office. That evening, I brought Leo home. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Leo.” I held Leo’s hand and introduced him to my father, while keeping my eyes on Silas, who was standing behind him with a stony face. “A boyfriend? “Tali, you never mentioned him.” My father looked Leo up and down, then smiled warmly. He seemed to approve. “I wanted it to be a surprise. “I’m an adult, Dad. It’s not that shocking. “Also… I’ve been meaning to tell you, I’m planning on moving out. “The new job I got is pretty far from here.” I took the opportunity to make my move. “Moving out?” My father frowned, hesitating. “Which company? If the commute is an issue, you can always work for me,” Silas interjected, his voice like ice. I ignored him completely. “Dad, I lived on my own while I was abroad. I can handle it. Besides, you and Elena need your space. I don’t want to be the third wheel. “Please, Dad? Just say yes.” I grabbed my father’s arm and started pleading. “Fine. If that’s what you want,” my father finally relented. I felt a wave of relief. An hour later, I was in my room packing. Leo was waiting for me downstairs. Silas appeared in my doorway. He marched into the room and closed the door behind him. “How long has this been going on with that guy? “You’re really going this far to avoid me? “Tali, this is your home. If anyone should leave, it’s me.” “You’re overthinking it. I’m just moving for work. As for Leo… “I don’t think I owe you an explanation.” I stopped packing and looked him in the eye. “Silas, we’re over. We’ve been over for five years.” The truth was, Silas was right. I was running. Leo was just a friend I’d asked to play the role of my boyfriend. I wanted to kill two birds with one stone: convince Silas I’d moved on and find an excuse to move out. “Tali, break up with him.” “No.” Silas grabbed my wrist. His grip was so tight it was painful. I winced. He loosened his hold slightly but didn’t let go. “Tali, please. Don’t do this.” “Silas, it’s over. “If you didn’t hear me the first time, I’ll say it again. “I don’t go back to my exes. Especially not the ‘sick’ ones.” I made my words as cruel as possible, hoping to finally break his obsession. “I’m better. “Tali, I showed you the report. I’m not sick anymore. “I’m normal.” Silas spoke through gritted teeth. His eyes were red. He looked like he was about to cry. He had cried once before, when he was begging me not to leave. That image was burned into my mind forever. My heart wavered for a second, but I stayed firm. “Silas, who knows when you’ll relaspe? “You’re unstable. You can’t just ‘fix’ that.” 6 I dragged my suitcase downstairs. “Your ‘brother’ is watching us from the top of the stairs,” Leo whispered as he took my bag. “Ignore him.” I had to play the part. At the bottom of the stairs, I looped my arm intimately through Leo’s. “This is a mess, Tali. “Seriously, the way he looks at you… it’s borderline psychotic. You sure you’re going to be okay?” Leo joked once we were outside. “Are you scared?” “No.” Leo laughed and leaned in close. “Honestly, Tali, you should consider making us official. “We could be great together.” “In your dreams.” I rolled my eyes and nudged him. At 10:00 PM, Leo dropped me off at my new apartment. I waved goodbye and headed up the elevator. The move had been rushed. I hadn’t even looked at the place before signing the lease. Luckily, the agency had sent over a cleaning crew, and since it was fully furnished, I just had to unpack. I was on a video call with Gwen. “So you moved out? “Tali, do you really hate him that much? “I mean, he’s clearly still in love with you. “The guy is gorgeous, successful, and obsessed with you. Most girls would kill for that.” “My dad is married to his mother, Gwen. How are we supposed to be together? “I’m not going to ruin my father’s marriage.” Click. The sound of the front door opening echoed through the apartment. I froze. My blood ran cold. Someone had just walked in. 7 A burglar? Panic flared in my chest. Since when was the security in this neighborhood so bad? I looked around frantically for something to use as a weapon. Nothing. The place was empty except for my clothes. I ran to the bedroom door, intending to lock it. But of course, things couldn’t be that simple. I discovered the lock on the bedroom door was broken. I couldn’t lock it. The sound of footsteps approaching the bedroom door made me forget how to breathe. It was too late to call the police. My hands were shaking so hard I could barely hold my phone. I tried to stay calm and started dialing 911. Thud. Just as I was about to hit ‘call’, the door was kicked open. I gasped, my heart stopping. Silas. It was him. How did he get in? “Tali, you look nervous. “Did you think it was a stranger? “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.” Silas looked at me, a faint, dangerous smile playing on his lips. I was still in shock. It took me a long time to find my voice. “What are you doing here? “How did you get in? “This is my apartment. You have no right to be here. “Get out. Now.” My voice was weak, lacking any real authority. I was still reeling from the shock. I frowned, trying to look imposing. “Silas. “Leave. I’m not going to tell you again.” “Where’s your boyfriend? “Is he not here?” Silas raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes scanning the room. I gritted my teeth and tried to push him out. But the next second, he grabbed my wrists and pinned me against the wall. 8 Silas’s left hand was behind my head, protecting me from the hard surface. His large frame pressed against me, pinning me in place. “What are you doing? Let me go!” The intimacy of the situation, the predatory look in his eyes… I felt a wave of danger. “Silas. “Let go. Get away from me.” “I can’t.” Silas buried his face in the crook of my neck. The gesture was far too intimate. “Tali. “You’re not really with that guy, are you? “You did all of this just to get away from me, didn’t you? “You’re so naive, Tali. Do you really think I’d let you go that easily? “Never. I’m never letting you go. You’re mine. “Actually, I’m glad you moved out. “It makes this much easier. “I’ve missed you so much. Every minute we were apart, I was thinking about you. “Stop running. It’s useless. No matter where you go, I’ll find you. “I was going to take it slow, but you pushed me too far.” He started kissing my face, my neck, his movements frantic. “Silas, stop! Silas!” I called his name, trying to reason with him. He was insane. Completely insane. How could he do this? Everything felt so surreal, so wrong. My struggles were useless against his strength. “Heh.” A long time later, after he had kissed me until my lips were numb, he whispered in my ear, his hand still tight around my waist. “Tali, I can feel it. You still feel something for me.” My face burned. The Silas I used to know would blush if I even flirted with him. This man… he was a professional. And I hated myself because, for a second, I had kissed him back. 9 “Silas, that’s enough.” I bit my lip and tried to push him away. Through the fabric of his shirt, I could feel the hard lines of his torso. “That was just a reflex. it didn’t mean anything. “Leave. Now. “If you don’t, I’m calling the cops. “This is breaking and entering. And you’re… you’re assaulting me.” I held up my phone, trying to look like I meant it. It was a bluff. I didn’t want to call the police. I didn’t want my father to find out about any of this. “Breaking and entering? “Tali, did I forget to mention? Your lease doesn’t start until next week. The agency just gave you the keys early. This week doesn’t count toward the rental period. “I’m just visiting my own property. “And as for the ‘assault’… didn’t we use to do this all the time? “You used to love it. “Just now, you were more into it than I was.” Silas gripped my chin, his calloused thumb tracing my lips in a slow, agonizingly intimate motion. My head was spinning. This was his property? How was that possible? “I bought this place today. “I heard you were looking at this unit, so I contacted the owner and made him an offer he couldn’t refuse.” He explained it so casually, as if buying an entire apartment on a whim was perfectly normal. “We’re over. We’ve been over for five years. “Silas, I’m not going back to you. “I told you, I don’t want to be with someone who’s mentally unstable. “I don’t do ‘crazy.’ “I don’t love you anymore. I don’t want you.” Crazy. That was the second time I’d called him that today. I knew how much it hurt, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him gone. The air in the room seemed to go still. “Heh.” After a long silence, Silas tilted my head up and looked me in the eye. He was smiling. “You despise me? “Fine. “But it doesn’t matter. Even if you hate me, even if I disgust you, I’m not letting go. “Tali, you were right.” His expression turned dark, his voice dropping to a low, gravelly whisper. “That medical report I showed you today? It was a fake. “I’m not better. I never was. “In fact, I’m worse.” I stared at him in horror. He was admitting it? It was all a lie? “Are you scared?” He saw the fear in my eyes and his smile widened. “Then be a good girl. Don’t provoke me. Stay by my side. “Tali, don’t push me. You don’t want to see what I’m capable of when I lose control. “A ‘crazy’ person in a state of distress… there’s no telling what might happen.” His cool fingertips brushed against my cheek. I was frozen, unable to move, unable to breathe. “I heard what you said in your room earlier. “You’re worried about our parents, aren’t you? “Then you better behave. Because if you don’t, I’ll tell them everything.” 10 I looked at the man in front of me and couldn’t find a trace of the gentle boy I had known. He had changed. He was manipulative. Forceful. He was using tactics he never would have used on me before. And I could see the madness burning in his eyes. “Silas, what’s the point? “You’re being selfish. You’re forcing me to stay against my will. When did you become so cruel?” “Cruel?” Silas seemed to savor the word. He laughed, a dark, jagged sound. “If being cruel is what it takes to have you, Tali, then I’ll be the most heartless man on earth.” He had found my weakness. I gave in. But I wasn’t going to make it easy for him. I decided to treat this as a lapse in judgment, a temporary madness. I would hide my feelings. I would never admit that I still cared about him. Once our parents were married, I would leave the country again. If I was gone, he would eventually move on. Just like he had for the past five years. That night, Silas held me as I slept. I tried to pull away, but he wouldn’t let me. His arms were like iron bands around me. He had taken off his watch. The scars on his wrist were clearly visible in the moonlight. I felt a pang of horror. Knowing about it was one thing; seeing it was another. The scars were deep and jagged. Silas had truly intended to end his life. Sensing my gaze, Silas moved his wrist, trying to hide the scars. “It’s ugly. Don’t look.” “Silas, why? Why did you do it?” I whispered. “If I said it was because of you, would you care more? “Probably not.” He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I didn’t do it for you. It had nothing to do with you. “Does that make you feel better? “It was just the illness. I was depressed. I had suicidal tendencies. It was normal. “Maybe I should have cut deeper. Then you wouldn’t be stuck with a psycho like me.” “Don’t say that.” I frowned, reflexively defending him. Silas didn’t say anything else. He just pulled me closer and kissed my ear. I went rigid. “Don’t worry. I won’t touch you tonight.” My heart tightened. We were only ten days away from the wedding. 11 The next morning. When I woke up, Silas was in the kitchen making breakfast. I stood in the living room and watched him for a long time, my heart a heavy weight in my chest. He used to make breakfast for me all the time. Back then, I really thought we would be together forever. I have a bit of a flighty streak. I used to think I could never stay with one person for long. I thought I would get bored. But with Silas, I never felt that way. Before I found his journals, before I knew he was “sick,” I was happy. I loved his attention. I loved how he took care of me. I loved flirting with him and watching him blush. And having a genius boyfriend meant I never had to worry about my homework. He was patient. He would even do it for me when I was feeling lazy. “Awake? “Come eat.” Silas turned and looked at me, his expression perfectly natural. I trudged over to the table. “Relax. “Tali, why do you look so miserable? “We’re back together. This is a celebration. “Smile for me, okay?” Silas gave me a small smile. The darkness from last night was gone. But unlike him, I couldn’t find anything to smile about. “Your condition… “Have you been seeing anyone for it? Silas, what if… what if I went with you to see a specialist?” My approach to the problem back then had been immature. Now that I was older and couldn’t escape him, I wanted to try and help him face it. Maybe if he got treatment, he would be able to let me go. “There’s no point. “You said it yourself—you can’t ‘fix’ this. “Why waste the time? “If you’re worried about me hurting you—” Silas’s dark eyes locked onto mine. “I promise you, as long as you don’t try to leave, I won’t do anything. “You know that even if I hurt myself a thousand times, I could never hurt a single hair on your head. “Your dad called this morning. He’s going to check out the wedding venue tonight. I told him I’d bring you.” I panicked. “Why did you say that? You should have let my dad tell me himself. What if he suspects something?” “What is there to suspect? Tali, you’re being paranoid. I’m your brother now. “Your dad is happy we’re getting along. “Besides, I told him you’re going to work at my firm. I told him I’d take care of you. He agreed. He doesn’t want you working for some stranger who might treat you badly.” I bit my lip. Silas in this state was impossible to argue with. An hour later, I was in Silas’s office, staring at the new workstation he had set up for me. He had made me his personal assistant. We were in the same office, in the same room. He intended to keep me under his eye twenty-four hours a day. 12 [Gwen. [How much more do you know about Silas’s past few years?] I sat at my desk, only a few feet away from Silas, and texted Gwen again. [?] Gwen’s reply was immediate. [You disappeared halfway through our conversation yesterday. [Why are you asking about him again? [I told you everything I know. [Tali, seriously, I think you’re overthinking this. [Your parents’ marriage shouldn’t be a dealbreaker. [If you love someone, you should be with them. [Silas has clearly been pining for you for years. It’s hard to find that kind of devotion these days. Why won’t you just give him another chance? [You’re never going to find anyone who loves you as much as he does.] I stared at the message for a long time. [I don’t care. I’m not going to be selfish. I’m not going to make things difficult for my father. [After the wedding, I’m leaving the country again. [I’m not coming back.] [You’re leaving again?] [Yeah. It’s the only way Silas will let it go. [To the world, he’s my brother now. [We can’t have any kind of romantic involvement.] [So you’re just running away again? Tali, why? Why are you doing this to yourself?] [Because it’s the right thing to do. It’s the only choice.] I bit my lip as I typed the reply, unaware that every word I sent was being mirrored on Silas’s screen. He had installed a camera in the plant right next to my desk.

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My best friend hid her identity as a billionaire heiress and told me, “For ordinary people like us, no matter how hard we try, we can never cross the class divide.” She pushed me to smoke, skip class, get into fights, date losers, and even worse… After graduation, I hit a dead end everywhere I went. I ended up dragging my sick, broken body into a factory for minimum wage, unable to even scrape together enough money for my daughter’s life-saving medicine. She, on the other hand, seamlessly took over her family’s empire, becoming a celebrated, untouchable CEO, marrying her perfect match, and living a flawless life. At my absolute lowest, I begged her to lend me fifty bucks just to buy a box of painkillers. She laughed so hard she practically doubled over. “I told you a long time ago, Sarah. Ordinary people like you are bottom-tier trash, generation after generation. “You’re a nobody. You have to accept your fate.” But… was that really my fate? Later, the factory exploded. I was buried in a sea of flames, dying with a heart full of agonizing regret and hatred. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day of high school. 01 Following a deafening blast, a rolling wave of heat crashed over me. I was huddled in the corner of the factory floor, staring in absolute despair as the wall of fire rapidly closed in. There was nowhere to run. I was going to burn alive. I squeezed my eyes shut, but when I opened them again, I felt the cool, crisp breeze of late summer. Outside the window, cicadas were humming. On the desk in front of me, tucked inside my faded, worn-out pencil case, was a crumpled piece of paper. On it, written in deliberate strokes, were the words: Fate is in my own hands. I had returned to when I was fifteen years old. The first day of high school. The timelines overlapped in my mind, and the phantom, agonizing pain of being consumed by fire still lingered. I broke out in a cold sweat. Suddenly, I heard a timid voice beside me. “Excuse me… are you… are you Sarah Jenkins?” I looked up and saw the fifteen-year-old Chloe Sterling. Right now, she was wearing a faded, hand-me-down hoodie, carrying a backpack that was frayed at the edges. She looked at me with a face full of shy admiration. It was a staggering contrast to the Chloe I saw at the end of my past life—dripping in designer brands, her makeup flawless, looking down at me from her high-rise office like I was an insect. My memories of her in my past life were too agonizing. Beneath the desk, I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. I steadied my breathing. “Yes, I am.” “It really is you! I… I’m so lucky. I can’t believe I’m in the same class as the famous valedictorian from Southside Middle School. “You look exactly like you did in the local paper—smart and pretty. A lot of the guys at my old school had a crush on you.” She sounded just as excited as she did the first time we met in my previous life. But this time, I caught the fleeting, malicious sneer hidden deep in her crescent-moon eyes. Of course. In both my past life and this one, in her eyes, I was nothing but a “bottom-tier peasant.” I was the prey she had selected long ago to play with and destroy. And my crossing paths with her wasn’t her “luck,” as she claimed. It was entirely the handiwork of her powerful, elite mother. The scene of my final meeting with her in my past life flashed before my eyes again. Back then, my little girl was critically ill. The doctors shook their heads and said there was nothing more they could do, advising me to just buy some strong painkillers to ease her suffering. But my abusive husband and my mother-in-law refused to spare even fifty dollars. They said since she wasn’t a boy, it was better if she just died. Desperate, I went to Chloe. She sat in her luxurious corner office on the top floor of the Financial District, looking down at the destitute, broken version of me, laughing uncontrollably. “Sarah, I told you a long time ago. Ordinary people like you are bottom-tier trash, generation after generation. “Your parents are, you are, and naturally, your daughter is too. “You’re a nobody. You have to accept your fate.” It was only then that I learned the truth from her own mouth. “Idiot! Did you really think I wanted to be besties with you? “If my mom wasn’t in the middle of a critical corporate promotion, do you think she would have pulled me out of my elite private prep school and sent me to that dump of a public high school? “I didn’t want to go at first either, but my mom said, ‘Sweetheart, let’s play a game, okay?’ “She told me she’s loved this game since she was young. It’s called—’Destroying the Life of an Ordinary Person.’” She smiled and leaned across her mahogany desk. “My mom said that an ordinary person who can’t handle temptation is incredibly easy to break. They’ll fall step by step, all the way down into a bottomless hell, until it’s too late for regrets. “I thought the game sounded fun, so I immediately picked out my target. “…It was you. The straight-A, beautiful scholarship kid clawing her way out of the slums.” She stood up, her gaze raking over me from head to toe. My utter ruin and misery were on full display. “Looking at you now, I’d say I won!” That day, I left her corporate tower a hollow shell of a human being. My mind spun, endlessly replaying my twenty-three years of life, watching myself plummet into the abyss. I thought of all those brilliant, shining dreams I once had, dreams that were never realized. I broke down crying on the bustling streets of downtown Boston. But there is no medicine in this world to cure regret. Three days later, my sweet, understanding little girl closed her eyes in agony for the last time. Shortly after, the factory exploded, and I burned to ashes. … I bit my lip hard, feeling the tidal wave of pure hatred surging in my chest. Since I’ve been given a second chance at life. This time, I will rewrite the narrative. I will keep my destiny firmly in my own grip. And I will make those who deceived me, manipulated me, and ruined me pay a devastating price. … Right now, Chloe was lowering her head. “Sarah, the truth is, I come from a really poor family just like you. I don’t have any friends at this school…” Her voice trembled slightly. “Maybe… could I be your friend?” There were a few seconds of dead silence. I quietly raised my eyes to look at her. Then, I flashed her a brilliant, welcoming smile. “Of course you can. “Welcome to my world… Chloe Sterling.” 02 Chloe became my desk mate. She studied diligently, treated everyone kindly, and acted so sweet and innocent that no one had their guard up around her. During recess, she would vividly recount to me how she took care of her paralyzed mother in bed, how she endured her chronically alcoholic, gambling father, and how she worked grueling shifts at a diner under the scorching summer sun just to save up for her own tuition. When she reached the emotional climax of her story, she would bury her face in her arms on the desk and sob, her shoulders shaking violently. Then, with tear-blurred eyes, she would ask me, “Sarah, I read your interview in the paper. All these years, things must have been incredibly hard for you too, right?” I watched her put on her little show with icy detachment. In my past life, I fell for this hook, line, and sinker. I bared my soul to her, treated her with absolute sincerity, and never doubted her for a second. I even took the fall for her crimes, leaving a permanent criminal stain on my permanent record. Thinking back on it, I was remarkably stupid. Right now, she was biting her lip. “Where a person is born dictates everything. Does all our hard work even mean anything…?” “Yeah, you’re right,” I interrupted her, stealing her lines. “For ordinary people like us, no matter how hard we try, we can never cross the class divide.” A look of genuine shock flickered across Chloe’s tear-stained face. She probably didn’t expect my mindset to crumble this easily. In my past life, whenever she asked me this, I would always answer with fierce conviction: “It’s hard, and life is tough, but I still have hope. “I believe I can change my destiny through hard work. “Hope and effort are the best things in this world. “Chloe, you have to hold onto hope and keep working hard. That’s the only way to keep moving forward.” It took her a long time and a lot of meticulous plotting to gradually break down my psychological defenses. Like the time she used the excuse of “handing out flyers” to drag me—while I was stressing over where my next month’s $150 of grocery money would come from—to the gates of an elite private school. She made me watch the trust-fund kids who were born with silver spoons in their mouths, living in luxury, entirely ignorant of the world’s suffering. Like the time when I was studying day and night for the State Math Olympiad, and she “accidentally” let it slip that even though my grades were the best, the spot for the competition had already been rigged and given to the principal’s niece. Like when I slowly started to break down and doubt if I could really change my fate, she shared stories with me of straight-A kids from small towns who got into Ivy League schools, only to graduate and end up working dead-end, soul-crushing corporate jobs, exhausted and miserable. Like when I was entirely disillusioned and felt my life was hopeless, she repeatedly egged me on to skip class, get blackout drunk at bars, and then… In the trap she so carefully laid out, I slid into the abyss step by step. She was a very patient predator. But I decided to “help” her along this time. “Since working hard is useless anyway,” I said, closing my textbook. “We’re done studying for the day. “Come on, Chloe. I’m taking you somewhere fun.” “Huh?” 03 When we were in the club, drinking and dancing wildly to the heavy bass. Chloe looked genuinely terrified. It wasn’t an act. A pampered little princess like her had truly never set foot in a grimy, chaotic place like this. In my past life, when she eventually brought me here, she had made ironclad preparations. She had someone clear out all the dangerous individuals beforehand and planted bodyguards all around us before she dared to step inside with me. “Chloe, don’t just stand there! Come party!” Armed with the clubbing experience from my past life, I expertly popped open a bottle of high-proof liquor and, before she could protest, forced her to chug several gulps. “Drink up, Chloe! A good buzz cures everything!” She choked, unable to speak, her eyes wide with panic. I took the opportunity to “accidentally” bump into her. She stumbled forward and crashed right into the chest of a sweaty, sleazy older guy. “Ah! What are you doing! Don’t touch me! “If you touch me again—I’ll have my mom ruin you—let go! “Do you know who my mom is? She’s—” Her words died in her throat as her eyes met mine. Even in this situation, she chose to hide her identity. She was dead set on finishing her game of “ruining my life.” I laughed coldly in my heart. I pretended to step forward to protect her, but “clumsily” shoved her even closer to the sleazy guy. I clearly remembered that in my past life, this was exactly how she pushed me toward a man riddled with incurable diseases, and then… I clenched my fists so hard my knuckles turned white. Eventually, the sleaze got bored, muttered, “Dammit, she’s flatter than a board,” and turned away. Chloe’s eyes were full of humiliation. Her rims were red, and her lip was bleeding—I didn’t know if the guy bit her or if she bit it herself in panic. “I’m so sorry, Chloe. I didn’t protect you.” I pretended to cry in a panic. “Let’s call the cops! The police will definitely—” “Absolutely no cops!” She cut me off instantly. “Why? That was basically assault!” I played dumb. I knew exactly why. Because her mother, Victoria Sterling, was a major power player in Boston. She was currently in the middle of a massive corporate acquisition and couldn’t afford even a whisper of negative PR. And her father, Richard Sterling, the CEO of Sterling Enterprises, didn’t give a damn about Chloe or her mother. He was busy keeping a mistress—his first love—and an illegitimate daughter on the side. The mistress and the illegitimate daughter were watching the Sterling empire like hawks. If rumors of Chloe being involved in a sordid nightclub scandal leaked, her ruthless father would absolutely abandon her and pivot to grooming his favored illegitimate daughter instead. So she didn’t dare. She could only swallow the humiliation. “I… I don’t have any money or power. I’m scared he’ll come after me.” “Oh… I guess you’re right…” I nodded helplessly, then shook my head vigorously. “Then let’s never come back to a place like this again. I had no idea it was so dangerous.” “No, no, no! This was just a fluke!” She grew even more frantic, terrified that this would traumatize me and I wouldn’t return to this den of vice. “Besides, didn’t we come here to have fun? I had a great time! We should definitely come back!” “Really?” I acted worried. “Of course! Look at me—” She forced a smile brighter than the sun, purposefully swaying her hips to brush against random guys, even hiking her short skirt up dangerously high. “Sarah, you should come have fun too!” She was enthusiastically inviting me to join in. Little did she know, every single move she made was being watched by someone standing not too far away. His face was a mask of absolute disgust. And I had known from the very beginning that he would be here tonight. 04 By the time Chloe crawled back through the school gates, reeking of cheap alcohol, it was past midnight. She was utterly humiliated and exhausted. I could hear her stifled sobbing from the top bunk. But I felt absolutely nothing. Once the top bunk finally fell silent, I quietly got out of bed, grabbed my textbook and pen, and headed up to the dormitory roof. Here, I was closest to the bright, silver moonlight. Under the glow of the moon, I reviewed the day’s math lessons. Everything was quiet, save for the gentle summer breeze. Having lived through the displaced, horrific misery of my past life, just having the chance to hold a book and study made me feel unspeakably blessed. The wind brushed against my face. I pulled that crumpled piece of paper from my pencil case. Fate is in my own hands. I unfolded it gently. On the back, written by my ten-year-old self, were my dreams. [Get into Harvard.] [Take Mom away from this dead-end town.] I will make them come true. Hope and hard work are the greatest things in this world. 05 When Chloe finally woke up, it was already 11:00 AM. It was Saturday morning, so sleeping in was normal. The teachers hadn’t noticed anything off about us. She groaned, hungover and nursing a splitting headache, and got up to pour a glass of water. I proactively handed her a cup of warm water and casually mentioned, “Wow! It’s already the 10th. Time flies.” She froze mid-sip, sobering up instantly. “What day did you say it is?” I smiled. “The 10th.” “The 10th!” She snatched my phone, checked the date, then the time, muttering, “I’m dead. I am so dead.” Still wearing the alcohol-stained mini-skirt from last night and unmatched flip-flops, she bolted out of the dorm. I admired her frantic, pathetic retreat for a moment. Once she was completely out of sight, I calmly sat back down, smiled, and opened my math book. August 10th. For her, it was indeed a day of critical importance. She had forgotten in her drunken stupor, but I hadn’t. On this exact day in my past life, Arthur Sterling, the patriarch of the Sterling family, flew back from his retirement estate in Europe. On paper, he was just visiting his children and grandchildren. In reality, everyone knew he was evaluating the heirs. Because the person who truly held the power in the Sterling family wasn’t Chloe’s father, but Grandpa Arthur. Chloe and her mother had been preparing for this day for months. Wardrobe, etiquette, smiles, posture—they had even meticulously rehearsed her dialogue, determined to impress the old man. But right now, Chloe had vomit crusted in her hair, reeked of cheap liquor, wore an indecent skirt, mismatched sandals, and had breath that could strip paint… sprinting straight toward the Sterling family luncheon. It was going to be a spectacular show. I checked the time and sent a pre-drafted message: [Mia Sterling, are you ready?] The reply came instantly: [Ready. Thank you.] Forty minutes later, the highly anticipated Sterling family luncheon, hosted at the city’s most luxurious hotel, went live on a local news stream. “5… 4… 3… 2… 1… “Welcome, viewers, to the live coverage of the most high-profile private gathering of the Sterling family in the past decade. “Sources confirm that Arthur Sterling arrived at the venue at 10:00 AM this morning and has been enjoying intimate conversations with the younger generation—” Before the reporter could finish, a shrill scream cut through the broadcast: “Why won’t you let me in! I am the CEO’s legitimate daughter—” The camera immediately whipped toward the commotion. I watched Chloe’s furious back as she tried to physically ram her way into the banquet hall. The security guards at the door looked at her outfit with blatant disgust. “Miss Sterling has been inside keeping Mr. Sterling company all morning. Miss, if you keep making a scene, we will call the cops.” “What?” Chloe was stunned for a few seconds before her rage boiled over. “That’s impossible! The Sterling family only has one daughter—” Her screaming abruptly ceased as the grand doors of the banquet hall slowly opened. “What is all this racket?” A commanding male voice echoed out. It was Chloe’s father, Richard Sterling. “Chloe…” He froze for a fraction of a second. Once he recognized his own daughter, his face turned black with rage. “Why are you so late? And what the hell are you wearing!” “Dad…” Chloe’s voice cracked with tears. She tried to push past the bewildered security guards to grab her father’s arm. He ruthlessly threw her off. Richard glanced at the live cameras, clearly suppressing volcanic anger. “Is this how your mother raised you? “Get the hell out of here! What are you standing around for? You’re a total embarrassment!” “Dad, I just want to see Grandpa—” Chloe’s tears started streaming down her face. “Before your grandfather sees you looking like a streetwalker, get out—” “Who wants to see me?” A kind, laughing voice interrupted. A young woman, supporting an elderly man with silver hair, slowly walked out. It was Grandpa Arthur. “Grandpa—” Chloe looked at him like a savior and bypassed her father, but the moment she clearly saw the girl next to him, she lost her mind. Her voice spiked into a screech. “Mia? Why are you here?” “Sister, I’m here to see Grandpa, just like you.” Mia was dressed in an elegant, tailored vintage dress, her sleek black hair tucked neatly behind her ears. She looked poised, dignified, and smiled warmly. “You’re a bastard child! You have no right—” “Ahem.” Grandpa Arthur cut her off. He was still smiling kindly, but his ancient, calculating eyes swept over Chloe, taking in every detail without a shift in expression. “Chloe, is it? “Last time I saw you, you were just a little girl. Look how much you’ve grown.” “Grandpa, it’s me. I haven’t seen you in over ten years.” Chloe took a step forward. Grandpa Arthur kept his smile but subtly took a half-step back to avoid her. He turned to a middle-aged woman in a silk suit standing on the periphery. “Victoria, take Chloe to go change and clean up. I know this is a family luncheon, but dressing like this isn’t quite appropriate, wouldn’t you agree? “I know you’re busy with your career, but you can’t neglect your child’s upbringing and education.” “I am so sorry, Dad. I’ll take her to change immediately… Chloe is usually very obedient and has wonderful manners. It’s my fault, I’ve been too busy lately to keep a proper eye on her…” Victoria wanted her daughter to shine today, never expecting her to spectacularly self-destruct at the most critical moment. Her smile was strained, failing to mask her sheer panic and embarrassment. Grandpa Arthur merely chuckled, noncommittal, and turned back to Mia. “Let’s go, Mia. Tell Grandpa more about your internship experiences at the corporate level this summer.” “Yes, Grandpa.” The group turned and walked back into the hall. As Richard turned, he shot a look at his secretary. Two seconds later, the live broadcast was cut. A few minutes after that, the embarrassing video of the Sterling family luncheon and all related comments quietly vanished from the internet. Naturally, every photo of Chloe was wiped perfectly clean. That night, every major financial outlet ran the exact same headline: [Patriarch of the Sterling Empire Returns: Heir Apparent Selected.] The accompanying photo was a high-definition shot of Grandpa Arthur and Mia standing at the entrance of the banquet hall, chatting intimately—a picture-perfect image of family harmony. 06 When Chloe finally came back to the dorm, her eyes were severely swollen. She crawled into bed without a word. She was still wearing that chaotic mini-skirt. She hadn’t changed, and she hadn’t washed her hair. I knew then that she hadn’t been allowed back into the banquet. I quietly finished the practice exam in my hands. Chloe had absolutely no energy to bother with a “bottom-tier peasant” like me tonight. Her phone started buzzing. “Mom, leave me alone, okay? Are you going to keep screaming at me? “Do you think I wanted to look like that? It’s all because—” She shot a look at me and stopped herself. “Skip the lecture. Just tell me how we fix this— “What? Really? “I’m coming right now.” She practically vaulted out of bed, shot me a wary glare, and hurried out of the dorm room. I silently followed her. In the deserted stairwell, her voice grew loud and arrogant again: “Yes! Yes! The Harringtons will definitely back me up! Chase and I have been engaged since we were kids. They won’t just stand by and watch me lose my inheritance. “This is perfect. If the Harrington family speaks up, the old man can’t refuse! “I’ll be on my best behavior. I swear I won’t let that bastard Mia steal the spotlight again. “Thanks, Mom! Love you so much! “Uh huh. Don’t worry, Mom. “…” Victoria Sterling obviously wasn’t going to just sit around and wait for death. Richard wasn’t going to help them. In fact, he had been waiting for this exact opportunity. In my past life, after learning the truth, I frantically searched the internet for any information about Chloe and her family. I found a lot of buried gossip. When Richard was young, the woman he truly loved was Mia’s mother, Elena Davis. But Elena came from a working-class background and couldn’t help Richard’s “grand ambitions.” So he dumped her, married Victoria, and had Chloe. A year into his marriage, once his career was secure, he rekindled his affair with Elena and had Mia. From then on, his heart belonged entirely to Elena and Mia, sparking endless high-society rumors. For all these years, he had likely been waiting for an excuse to divorce Victoria without damaging his reputation, so he could legitimize Elena and Mia. Victoria knew all of this, of course. So when Chloe was little, Victoria aggressively courted the Harrington family, successfully locking in an arranged engagement between Chloe and the Harrington heir, Chase. Wary of jeopardizing the massive corporate ties with the Harringtons, Richard hadn’t dared to make a move all these years. Now, Victoria was playing her trump card, having the Harringtons intercede on Chloe’s behalf. But… even if the Harrington family elders were willing to pull Chloe out of the fire for the sake of their profit margins, would Chase Harrington—a notorious, arrogant playboy—actually agree? I smirked. And turned back to the dorm.

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1 Toby needed a new kidney. The uremia was destroying his body, and my husband insisted I be the one to give up a part of mine to save him. On the day of the transplant, I turned off my phone and completely vanished. My entire family went absolutely feral trying to track me down. It took four full hours before I finally showed my face. Because of my absence, Toby missed the critical window for surgery. He didn’t make it. My relatives branded me a cold blooded monster. They stirred up a media frenzy, spinning a narrative that I didn’t deserve to be called a mother. I just sat there, slowly taking a sip of my dark roast coffee. “His father is still breathing, isn’t he? Why didn’t he go under the knife?” … I was touching up my lipstick in the bathroom when Jeff’s call finally came through. His voice was frantic, breathless. “Serena, where the hell are you? They are rolling Toby into the operating room right now. Where are you!” “I am at home.” My tone was dead flat. Jeff snapped. “Are you out of your mind? Look at the time. Get your ass over here!” I hung up on him without a second thought, picked up my mascara, and looked at my reflection. I was not in a rush. In my past life, I had been exactly like him. When I first heard about Toby’s failing organs, my heart shattered. Jeff relentlessly pressured me to donate, and I caved. The surgery ruined me. My health deteriorated rapidly, and I ultimately died of kidney failure. Thinking about it now, it was utterly absurd. We were both his parents. Why was Jeff completely exempt from the sacrifice? I had autoimmune issues. I was never the ideal candidate. Yet Jeff pushed, and Toby wept, begging me to save him. Blinded by maternal instinct, I gave up my kidney without a second thought. My body never recovered. Looking back, Jeff had been way too eager. He was more desperate than the surgeons. I had originally planned to find a willing donor on the registry, even offering to cover all expenses out of my own pocket. Jeff had violently opposed the idea. He pointed a finger in my face and yelled that other people had families too, that we couldn’t just throw money around and act selfish. “He is our own flesh and blood, Serena! You are his mother. Why can’t you make a sacrifice for once?” From day one, he manipulated me into agreeing, and when the time came, he practically shoved me toward the scalpel. I pulled out my phone and opened his Amazon account. It wasn’t paranoia. Jeff’s behavior had been setting off alarm bells for weeks. His iMessage history was spotless, almost surgically scrubbed. But shopping apps tell a different story. I knew his passcode, and the moment I saw the recent chat logs with a third party seller, my blood turned to ice. A searing rage clawed its way up my throat. I took screenshots of everything and forwarded them to my cousin, Marcus. “Look into this. Dig up everything you can.” Then, I powered off my phone. I finished my makeup, took my sweet time eating a croissant at a downtown cafe, and did a little window shopping. It wasn’t until eleven in the morning that I finally strolled through the hospital doors. Jeff was pacing outside the surgical ward, his face twisted in pure rage. The moment he spotted me, he lunged. “Where the hell have you been! Our son has been waiting for you for hours!” I looked at him with absolute indifference. “I thought about it, and I am backing out. My immune system is wrecked, and the specialists said I am high risk. You should do it.” Jeff recoiled as if I had slapped him. “How can I do it! I am the man of the house. If my body breaks down, who is going to provide?” I stared deep into his eyes. My gaze was sharp enough to draw blood. Jeff realized he had slipped up and quickly shifted tactics. “Serena, can you really bear to watch Toby suffer? He is on death’s door, and he is only twelve. I am begging you. Save him. I will transfer every single asset I own into your name. Just please!” Tears streamed down his face. He dropped to his knees right there on the linoleum floor. Nurses, doctors, and passing families stopped to stare. A crowd was forming. Jeff’s agonizing desperation clashed perfectly with my icy composure, painting me as the wicked stepmother straight out of a nightmare. Just then, the double doors of the operating room swung open. “The boy is crashing. What is the hold up!” the scrub nurse demanded. Jeff grabbed my arm and shoved me toward her. “Take her! She is the mother!” I shook him off and held up my hands. “Sorry. I had a heavy breakfast. I am not cleared for anesthesia.” Jeff looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel. “You did this on purpose! That is your own flesh and blood, and you are letting him die! You are a monster!” A wail echoed down the corridor as my mother-in-law, Martha, pushed through the crowd. “My poor, sweet grandson!” She locked eyes with me. “Do you have a heart of stone, Serena? That is your baby!” Right behind Martha was a younger woman. Ruby. The live-in nanny Jeff had hired. Ruby rushed forward and grabbed my hands. “Serena, please don’t be mad. Toby’s life is on the line. You have to save him!” 2 Ruby’s face was deathly pale. Her panic looked incredibly genuine. Jeff tugged at my sleeve. “Serena, I am begging you. Just go in there. I swear to God I will never do you wrong. Just do it!” The wailing and begging echoed off the sterile hospital walls. The crowd was whispering, pointing fingers, casting disgusted glares my way. I let out a heavy sigh, secretly pinching my own thigh hard enough to force tears into my eyes. “It is not that I don’t want to help. I physically can’t. You saw my blood work, Jeff. What if I don’t wake up from the anesthesia?” Martha practically jumped out of her shoes. “He is your son! How can you be so incredibly selfish!” I shot her a freezing glare. “Jeff is his biological father. Why isn’t he on the table?” I paused, letting the silence hang. “Besides, I already ate. If they put me under now, I could aspirate and die. Is that what you want, Martha? You want me dead on that table?” Cornered, Martha spat out the first thing that came to her mind. “So what if you die? You are not as important as my son and my grandson!” I just stared at her. The crowd gasped. Realizing she had exposed her true colors, Martha quickly tried to backtrack. “You promised him, and now you are backing out. You planned this, didn’t you!” Before I could tear her apart, the doctor pushed Toby’s gurney out into the hall. “The patient’s vitals are dropping. We don’t have a donor kidney. We are taking him back to the ICU.” Toby weakly turned his head toward me, tears spilling down his hollow cheeks. “Mom, why won’t you save me? Am I going to die?” His lips were cracked and blue. His small, trembling hand reached for mine. “Please, Mom. Just help me.” It was a sight that would shatter any human heart. And it shattered mine. In my previous life, seeing him ravaged by illness tore my soul to shreds. And what was my reward? After the surgery wrecked my body, he never even bothered to step foot in my hospital room. Everything made sickening sense now. I gently patted Toby’s frail hand. “I can’t help you, baby. But your dad is right here. It is him. He is the one who refuses to give you his kidney.” I stood up and pointed right at Jeff. “He didn’t make this child by himself. Since I am disqualified, it is his turn. Don’t worry, Jeff. Once you donate, I will hire the best nurses to take care of you.” I grabbed Jeff’s arm and physically shoved him toward the doctor. “He is my husband. His pre-op labs are flawless. He is the biological father. He is a perfect match!” Jeff’s face turned a nauseating shade of green. He dug his heels in. “No. I am not a match. I…” I let out a dark chuckle. Right at that moment, my phone buzzed in my pocket. A text from Marcus. I dropped Jeff’s arm. He instantly cowered behind his mother, shooting me a look of pure, venomous hatred. I glanced at the files Marcus had just sent. A chill ran down my spine. So that was the truth. “What is the matter, Jeff? Are you scared?” I mocked him. “If you don’t have the guts to do it, keep my name out of your mouth. Take him back to his room.” Toby gripped my fingers, refusing to let go. “Mom… am I really going to die?” Looking at his chalky face, a cold light flickered in my eyes. Martha started howling again. “Oh, Toby! Your mother refuses to save you. What are we going to do! What did our family do to deserve a curse like this woman?” She turned to her son. “I told you not to marry her, Jeff. We are not from the same world. She is venomous!” Jeff dropped to his knees beside the gurney, clutching Toby’s frail body. “I am so sorry, buddy. It is all Dad’s fault. Dad is useless.” Meanwhile, Ruby, the faithful nanny, suddenly turned to the crowd, waving her hands. “Who are you people? Stop recording us!” I glanced over. Several bystanders had their smartphones out, camera lenses aimed directly at my face. “Everyone on TikTok needs to see this! This psycho is letting her own kid die!” one teenager yelled. “What a cold blooded bitch.” “She doesn’t even deserve to breathe.” The toxic whispers swarmed around me like flies. 3 I didn’t utter a single word. I just stood there, completely still, watching the father and son put on their little theatrical performance. A faint, cynical smile touched my lips. Ruby stepped up and grabbed my sleeve again. “Serena, please. He needs you. He can’t survive without you.” I ripped my arm out of her grasp. “If you want him saved so badly, save him yourself. I am not doing it.” Toby looked at me, utterly betrayed. “Mom, what are you saying? You are my mother. Why won’t you save me!” “Because you are not solely my burden to carry. Your father is standing right there.” I smoothed out the wrinkles in my tailored blazer. “I am done here, Jeff. If you want a savior, look in the mirror. I have a board meeting to catch.” “Stop right there!” Jeff roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. “Are you psychotic? Are you screwing someone else? This is your flesh and blood, and you are leaving him to die. You are out of your damn mind!” He turned to the crowd, his eyes wild. “Look at her! This is Serena, the Director of Sales at Apex Global! She is throwing her own son in the trash!” Jeff outing my corporate identity made things crystal clear. This man was desperate. If he couldn’t bully me into giving up my kidney, he was going to nuke my professional reputation. What was his endgame? My eyes drifted to Ruby. Why was a simple nanny injecting herself into family trauma, deliberately drawing the crowd’s cameras toward me? I hoisted my leather tote onto my shoulder and turned on my heel. Jeff lunged and grabbed my strap. “You are not leaving until you explain yourself!” “There is nothing to explain. I have work to do. He is your problem now.” I shoved him backward and walked away. Jeff’s voice chased me down the hall. “Serena! If you walk out that door, you are going to regret it for the rest of your life!” I tuned him out entirely. The second I stepped out of the automatic hospital doors, I sent a picture of Ruby to Marcus. “Look up this woman for me too.” In my previous life, I had died way too fast. I never had the luxury of putting the pieces together. But looking at it now, none of these people made sense. Why was the nanny so frantic? Why was she directing the mob to film me? And Martha’s slip of the tongue was the nail in the coffin. While waiting for Marcus to work his magic, I headed to the office. The moment I stepped onto the sales floor, the air shifted. I could feel the hostile stares burning into the back of my neck. They weren’t even trying to hide it. A few junior executives muttered loudly as I walked by. “How does she even have the nerve to show up today?” “Corporate shark. I guess you have to be dead inside to make it to Director.” “God, I feel sick for that poor kid.” I tightened my jaw. News traveled fast in the digital age. I had barely sat down at my desk when the intercom buzzed. It was Mr. Gallagher, the CEO. “Serena. I saw the viral clips. You need to get your personal life under control. Take a few days off. Go home.” My stomach dropped. There were wolves in this company waiting for me to bleed. I had clawed my way to the Director’s chair. If I walked out now, by the time I came back, my office would belong to someone else. Women in corporate America already had targets on their backs. Being a high powered executive made me a prime target for resentment. Now, with my domestic drama plastered over the internet, my career was on the verge of going up in smoke. “Mr. Gallagher, I promise you, I am being set up. You know my track record. Apex Global will not suffer from this.” “And…” Before I could finish the sentence, the glass doors of the sales department violently swung open. Jeff stormed in, bypassing security. “Are you happy now, Serena!” he screamed, his voice cracking with hysteria. “Toby is dead!” “Get your ass out here, you heartless bitch!” Toby was dead?!

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1 The first autopsy I performed as a forensic pathologist was on my murdered parents. I completed the procedure, closed the final incision, and collapsed. A burning fever consumed me, leaving me bedridden and delirious for three days. But my fiancé, Richard, the lead prosecutor on the case, did the unthinkable. In court, he argued for a reduced sentence, securing a lenient involuntary manslaughter conviction for my parents’ killer. After the trial, he approached me, gently holding the killer’s daughter’s hand. He looked at me with sickly-sweet tenderness. “Sylvia, Jillian will live with us now. We’ll sponsor her education. She was just accepted into a top university. She’s severely depressed after losing her father—we can’t take away her will to live.” Behind him stood nineteen-year-old Jillian, her cheeks glistening with delicate tears. But the look she gave me over his shoulder was pure provocation and triumph. I stared at his hypocritical face and let out a hollow laugh. “And my parents? They were stripped of their right to breathe!” Richard clutched my cold hands, speaking like a condescending saint. “Sylvia, be the bigger person. Your parents spent their lives sponsoring students. Taking Jillian in is what they’d want from heaven.” I snatched my hands away. “Oh? So you do remember!” Richard’s face went pale. A sharp flicker of guilt flashed in his eyes. He remembered perfectly well: the first student my parents ever sponsored was him. … “Sylvia, I have never forgotten everything they did for me. I know it is hard for you to accept their sudden passing, but this is not Jillian’s fault.” Richard stepped protectively in front of Jillian. His defensive posture made it look as though I was the monster in the room. Jillian peeked out from behind his broad back, her voice trembling with manufactured sobs. “Sylvia, please! Just give me a chance to survive!” “I promise I won’t be a burden. I will do all the chores, I will study hard, and I will spend the rest of my life repaying you and Richard.” She kept repeating his name with such breathless adoration. It was as if Richard was her personal savior. “Sylvia, you need to calm down. I am taking Jillian out to get something to eat.” Like a frightened little rabbit, Jillian scurried after Richard. My phone started buzzing relentlessly in my coat pocket. Forcing down the grief and rage threatening to choke me, I opened the screen. It was my college alumni group chat. [Richard is a saint. Repaying hatred with kindness. Truly a man of the people!] [Seriously. The man gets a light sentence for the guy who killed his fiancé’s parents, and now he is taking in the killer’s daughter. I could never reach that level of enlightenment.] [Honestly, do you guys think Richard has other intentions with this girl? Sylvia’s parents haven’t even been dead a week, and he is already moving her into their house. If you tell me nothing is going on, I call bluff!] Someone immediately tagged the last speaker. [Delete that! Do you not realize Sylvia is in this chat?] Seconds later, those messages vanished from the screen. But the invisible knife twisted in my chest refused to disappear. My fingers flew across the keyboard. [My engagement to Richard is officially canceled. Please spread the word. From this moment on, he and I are completely severed!] I hit send and permanently left the group chat. By the time I gathered my shattered emotions and returned home from the forensic institute, my blood boiled over all over again. I pushed the front door open. Jillian was sitting on the plush sectional my late mother had specially picked out, happily watching television while digging into a massive bag of chips I had bought for myself. And Richard was in the kitchen, wearing an apron, boiling pasta. Something inside me snapped. A blinding wave of fury severed my last nerve. I marched over, snatched the bag of chips right out of Jillian’s arms, and hurled it into the trash can. “Why are you in my house? Get out!” Richard immediately rushed out of the kitchen, pulling Jillian behind him. He furrowed his brow, confronting me with a look of deep disappointment. “Sylvia! We already discussed this this afternoon. Are you still throwing a tantrum?” My voice shook with absolute rage. “I never agreed to anything! Do you even remember who bought this house? Have you completely forgotten the entire purpose of this place!” He answered with infuriating calmness. “I haven’t forgotten. Your parents bought this for us to use as our bridal home.” I stared at the tall, imposing man standing in my living room and let out a chilling laugh. “So you do know! My parents bought this! They died before they ever got the chance to stay here, and you have the audacity to move their killer’s daughter in!” Richard’s eyes darkened, a swirl of conflicting emotions surfacing in his gaze. Right on cue, pathetic little whimpers drifted from behind his back. “I am so sorry! Sylvia, please have a little mercy. Just give me a corner to sleep in! Treat me like a stray dog or a rescue cat. I truly have nowhere else to go!” She reached out, trying to grab my hand while sobbing hysterically. I instinctively swatted her away. But Jillian exaggerated the motion entirely, throwing herself violently onto the hardwood floor. Richard snapped out of his daze and immediately rushed to help her up. “Richard, I am fine. If she really hates me this much, I should just leave!” I watched her cheap little theatrical performance with dead eyes. It baffled me how a brilliant prosecutor who could instantly spot a suspect’s lie couldn’t see through a teenager’s pathetic manipulation. I grabbed her fluffy pink tote bag from the entryway and threw it at her feet. “If you are leaving, then hurry up. You are not welcome here.” Tears spilled down Jillian’s cheeks in dramatic streams. She clutched her bag, her eyes red and puffy, pretending to walk toward the door. A large hand grabbed her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “Sylvia, enough is enough! Jillian is staying here, and my promise to fund her education remains completely unchanged!” I grabbed a glass water tumbler from the coffee table and smashed it right at his feet. “On what grounds!” He glared at me with absolute ice. “On the grounds that my name is the only one on the deed. You have absolutely no right to kick her out!” 2 I froze for several agonizing seconds. The memory hit me like a physical blow. Because I had been out of the country for a specialized forensic training program, Richard was the one who accompanied my parents to purchase this house. The only reason his name was the sole name on the deed was because my parents already treated him like their own flesh and blood. “Richard grew up right before our eyes,” my mother’s gentle voice echoed in my mind. “He lost his parents in the line of duty, but he has always been so fiercely independent. I don’t want a piece of real estate to make him feel inferior in this marriage.” That was it. They didn’t want him to feel insecure about marrying into wealth! My parents funded this bridal home to relieve his financial burden, not for him to turn it into a sanctuary for the daughter of the man who slaughtered them! “Richard, I dare you to look at my parents’ memorial portrait and say that again. What gives you the right to forgive their murderer on their behalf?” My voice was trembling uncontrollably. “I am not forgiving him on their behalf. I am simply executing the law with a degree of human warmth.” He frowned, his face twisting with impatience. “Sylvia, you study the law too. Stop being so overly emotional. The verdict is final. We need to look toward the future.” His tone shifted into hard concrete. “My decision is final. I already had the housekeeper prepare the guest room for her.” Without another word, he escorted Jillian up the stairs, shielding her as if she were made of priceless glass. This beautiful house was the last tangible piece of my parents I had left. And now, it was infected by the daughter of my enemy. If my parents knew the boy they had lovingly sponsored for a decade would turn out like this, how much agonizing regret would they feel? I walked up to the second floor, my entire body shaking. Under the warm glow of the guest room lamp, Jillian was twisting the hem of her shirt while Richard softly comforted her. “Don’t be scared. Treat this place like your own home from now on.” “Thank you, Richard. You are so good to me.” Tears shimmered in her eyes. It was the exact kind of fragile, damsel-in-distress routine designed to trigger a man’s savior complex. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I walked into the master bedroom, shoved a few clothes into a duffel bag, and walked out of that pathetic excuse for a “bridal home.” The moment I returned to the cramped dormitory at the forensic institute, I pulled out my phone and dialed Rowan. He was my senior from university, now a ruthless senior partner at a top-tier corporate law firm. I was taking Richard to court. I was going to tear that house right out of his hands. Over the next few days, Richard showed up at the institute a few times. His goal was always the same: to mentally beat me into accepting Jillian. He told me how Jillian woke up before dawn every single day, scrubbing the house spotless. He constantly demanded I come back home. He claimed that because of my unforgiving nature, Jillian was eaten alive by guilt and losing weight by the day. When he spoke of her, his voice was dripping with undeniable heartache. “Sylvia, Jillian never had a good life growing up. I just want her to feel a little warmth. You don’t understand the psychological toll of being a poverty-stricken student. We cannot punish a child for the sins of adults.” Then, he tried to play the emotional manipulation card. “Just like what you did for me. I was a terrified orphan once too. I just want you to embrace Jillian the way you embraced me.” I looked at him with dead, vacant eyes. “Keep your guilt. I already filed the lawsuit, Richard. That house was bought with my parents’ pre-marital assets. I highly suggest you start looking for a new apartment.” Richard turned purple with rage. He spun on his heel and stormed out without a single word. A few days later, a colleague casually mentioned spotting Richard and Jillian at a high-end shopping district. He was buying her designer dresses and the newest smartphone. He even drove two hours out of the city just to buy a specific pastry she casually mentioned craving. One evening, I needed an old case file from my mother’s forensic archives. After my shift, I drove back to the house. As soon as my car pulled into the driveway, I noticed the lights in the study were on. My mother had designed that study herself. After they passed, I had moved all of their personal belongings into that room and locked the door. Who was in there? The blood froze in my veins. I sprinted up the stairs to the second floor. The heavy oak door was wide open. And the sight inside instantly shredded whatever sanity I had left. 3 The classic, elegant mahogany study had been desecrated. It was now a nauseatingly pink princess room. Jillian was sitting cross-legged on a brand-new canopy bed. And in her hands, she was holding my mother’s original, handwritten autopsy journals! Just then, Richard walked in, a bright smile on his face. “Sylvia, you finally came to your senses! Don’t worry, I am covering all of Jillian’s expenses…” I cut him off, screaming at the top of my lungs. “Where are my parents’ belongings? What did you do to the things in this room!” Seeing my explosive anger, his smile vanished, replaced by an annoyed scowl. “They were just some old things. I told the housekeeper to box them up and shove them in the basement storage.” “Old things?” I was shaking so violently I could barely stand. “Richard, those were my parents’ final possessions! Who gave you the right to touch this room!” “Sylvia, calm down.” Richard grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side, lowering his voice. “It was Jillian. She said she wanted to study medicine so she could become a doctor just like your mother and atone for her father’s crimes. Your mother’s journals are incredibly useful to her.” I stared at him, refusing to believe what I was hearing. “So, you just let her defile my mother’s life’s work?” “She is just using it to study.” He spoke with absolute entitlement. “You are already a top forensic pathologist. That basic theory is useless to you now. But to Jillian, it could change her entire future. Sylvia, if your mother is watching from above, she would want her hard work to guide a young mind, right? Just look at it as doing a good deed.” A good deed! There it was again. His favorite weapon. He always did this. He would stand on his little moral pedestal, arbitrarily deciding what was “useless” to me, and then gaslight me for being unreasonable and unaccommodating. I lunged forward and ripped the notebook right out of Jillian’s hands. The pages were covered in neon highlighter and senseless, colorful doodles. “Is this her version of studying?” Jillian immediately shrank back, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. “I have always studied like that. Color coding helps me memorize things…” Richard looked completely unbothered. “She just made some annotations. Didn’t you highlight your books in college?” I looked at him, and suddenly, I just felt bone-deep exhaustion. I wiped the stray tears from the corners of my eyes, walked straight down to the dusty basement, and dragged every single box of my parents’ things out. But as I packed my car, I realized something critical was missing. I marched back into the house and stood directly in front of Richard. My voice was terrifyingly calm. “Richard. The joint account we set up for our wedding. Did you touch it?” Richard’s face tightened. His eyes darted away from mine. “Jillian’s tuition and living expenses required an upfront deposit. I just… temporarily reallocated the funds.” “Reallocated?” A miserable, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “Richard, five minutes ago you were bragging about paying for her expenses out of your own pocket. That account held three hundred thousand dollars of my parents’ money meant for my dowry. How did you even have the face to touch it?” “Sylvia!” My words hit his fragile ego like a bullet, and he lashed out. “Stop obsessing over the money! Why do you always have to be so petty over every little thing? Why can’t you just be accommodating and gentle like Jillian?” “Gentle?” Pushed to the absolute brink of a psychological breakdown, the tears finally spilled over. “So in your twisted mind, treating the daughter of my parents’ murderer like a beloved sister, throwing away my mother’s legacy, and giving my wedding dowry to pay for her college is what makes a woman gentle and accommodating?” My interrogation left him completely speechless. Right on cue, Jillian started her waterworks. “Sylvia, please don’t blame Richard! It is all my fault. I will pay back every cent. I will get a job. Even if I have to sell my own blood, I will pay you back!” Richard immediately pulled her into his chest, stroking her hair. “Jillian, don’t worry about it. I will handle it.” Then, he lifted his chin and glared at me with pure disdain. “Sylvia, you are behaving worse than a nineteen-year-old girl who just lost her father.” “I know the money was your dowry. Once we are officially married, I will surrender my entire paycheck to you every month as compensation.” “But I have one non-negotiable condition. You have to make peace with Jillian and let her stay!” Hot tears mixed with a bitter, self-deprecating smile on my face. He was treating our marriage like a charitable donation, using his mediocre salary as leverage in a hostage negotiation. And all of it was for Jillian. It was utterly pathetic. The man who once swore on his life to protect me forever, to never let me suffer a single injustice, had mutated into a monster I didn’t even recognize. Since the rot was this deep, nothing else he said mattered. “Richard, we are completely, utterly done.” 4 I took all of my things and left. Richard didn’t even try to stop me. It wasn’t until a week later that my phone lit up with his texts. His tone was as arrogant and condescending as ever. [Sylvia, stop throwing this tantrum and come home. Jillian knows she messed up, and I already lectured her.] [Are you really going to hold a grudge against a teenager? Grow up and stop acting like a spoiled brat.] I stared at the messages, feeling absolutely nothing but disgust. I didn’t even bother replying. Just as I was about to hit the block button, an anonymous text popped up. [Sylvia~ Please don’t be mad! Richard actually misses you a lot. He cooked a candlelight dinner for me tonight, and the steak you usually like was so delicious. He even took me on the Ferris wheel and promised to bring you next time!] I scoffed. The only person dumb enough to fall for this blatant manipulative garbage was a brainwashed idiot like Richard. I swiftly blocked both of their numbers and deleted their contacts. A few hours later, an unknown number called me. The voice on the other end was loud and frantic. “Hello? Ms. Sylvia? I am calling from the memorial park! Your fiancé is up here trying to dismantle your parents’ graves! Did you authorize this?” Before the groundskeeper could even finish, a deafening crash echoed through the receiver. “Hey! Stop the machine! Why the hell did you smash the headstone?” The call abruptly dropped. Panic seized my chest. I broke every speed limit getting to the cemetery. When I arrived, the pristine marble headstone was shattered in half. The protective casing of the burial vault was cracked, exposing the urns inside to the dirt and the wind. My blood pressure spiked to lethal levels. Jillian was cowering behind Richard like a frightened quail. He shielded her with his body. “If you are angry, take it out on me! This has nothing to do with her!” My heart had died a long time ago. I ignored his pathetic “hero protecting the maiden” routine and dropped to my knees, silently brushing the debris away from my parents’ resting place. Seeing that I wasn’t going to attack Jillian, Richard’s defensive posture relaxed. A sliver of guilt actually managed to cross his face. He knelt down, reaching out to help me clear the rubble. But the moment his fingers hovered near my parents’ urns, a violent wave of nausea hit me. I whipped my arm back and delivered a brutal, open-handed slap squarely across his left cheek. A bright red handprint instantly blossomed on his skin. “You don’t deserve to touch their ashes! Ten years ago, you pulled me out of a fire. Today, I am sparing your life. We are completely even.” Richard panicked. He grabbed my wrist with a vice grip. “Sylvia, listen to me! Jillian’s dad died of a sudden heart attack in prison. The priest said he needed a blessed, high-ground plot so his soul could find peace.” “I never wanted to smash the stone! The crane arm of the backhoe accidentally swung into it. It was a mechanical failure! Are you really going to blame me for an accident?” “This is the most exclusive cemetery in the city. There were no other plots available. I just needed to borrow a piece of your family’s estate. If your parents were alive, they would have agreed to let me do this!” I was genuinely in awe of his bottomless audacity. “My parents are dead because her father ran them over with a truck.” Richard froze. He subconsciously took a step back, but his stubborn pride refused to break. “But… Jillian’s dad is dead too. He paid for his crimes with his life. You can’t keep holding onto this hatred.” I clutched my parents’ urns tightly to my chest. “Get the hell out of my sight. I am calling the cops.” The police arrived swiftly. Because Richard had no legal authorization, he was forced to pay for the property damage and was slapped with a formal warning. I refused to let my parents stay in a place tainted by his presence. I purchased a plot at a completely different private cemetery and relocated them. After the graveyard incident, Richard tried relentlessly to contact me from burner numbers. I rejected every single one. It wasn’t until the day of our civil lawsuit regarding the house that the calls finally stopped. Strangely, Richard never showed up to the courthouse. As a prosecutor, he knew perfectly well that failing to appear would result in a default judgment against him. That afternoon, right after I secured the victory, my assistant Ben sprinted into my laboratory, hyperventilating. “Dr. Sylvia! It is bad! Look at the news! Prosecutor Richard is in critical condition!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “420120”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel