Since childhood, I’ve been sickly and weak, prone to coughing and dizziness. The day my wealthy parents brought me home, the imposter who stole my identity tried to frame me by faking a fall down the stairs. At that exact moment, my blood sugar crashed. I collapsed, tumbled down, and stopped breathing. My terrified parents rushed me to the hospital. Barely revived, my brother stormed in, grabbed my collar, and threatened me. His rage triggered a heart attack, and the monitor flatlined. Panicked, he fled for a doctor. That evening, the imposter pretended to jump from the hospital roof, crying that my return left her no place. Without a word, my brother dragged me to the edge. My severe acrophobia struck—my legs gave way, and I fell. My parents arrived with food just in time to see it. The air froze, then their eyes turned red with fury as they screamed. My brother and the imposter stood there, stunned and terrified. 1. A frantic team of doctors worked through the night, and finally, my heartbeat returned. Seeing Mom and Dad’s ashen faces, Scarlett’s voice was laced with a desperate cry. “Mom, Dad, I really didn’t push her. She just fell somehow…” Mom finally looked up, eyeing her suspiciously. “Then tell me, why would Luna, a patient just out of critical care who can barely walk, inexplicably find herself on a thirty-story rooftop?” Scarlett was choked into silence, unable to utter a single word for a long time. “I dragged her up there!” My brother, Conor, quickly stepped in front of Scarlett, adopting a protective stance. “Ever since she came back, you’ve all been ignoring Scarlett more and more, which is why Scarlett almost did something desperate today. So, it’s all Luna’s fault, shouldn’t Luna apologize to Scarlett?” “If you ask me, she’s incredibly manipulative! She knew there were safety barriers below the rooftop today, that’s why she deliberately put on this whole act, just to gain sympathy and frame Scarlett!” I had just opened my eyes from a dizzying haze, and hearing those words, my heart clenched violently. Not only was my body fragile, but my psychological resilience was even weaker. So, the next second, my legs gave out, and I knelt directly onto the floor from the bed, trembling uncontrollably. “Mom and Dad, Conor is right. It was all me, trying to gain sympathy and frame Scarlett, that I deliberately climbed onto the rooftop and fell.” “No one dragged me up there by force, and no one forced me to apologize without understanding the situation. All of this was voluntary. Please don’t blame Conor and Scarlett.” “Conor, don’t be angry anymore. I’ll apologize to Scarlett right now.” As I spoke, I timidly tugged at Scarlett’s sleeve, trying to force a smile at her. “Scarlett, I’m sorry…” Before I finished speaking, two streaks of blood unexpectedly trickled from the corners of my mouth. I casually wiped them away, smearing blood all over my face, and could only helplessly stretch my lips into a wider smile. Scarlett screamed, backing away several steps as if she had seen a ghost. Mom’s eyes rolled back, and she rushed forward to gently press me back onto the bed, her hands shaking as she wiped my face. Dad’s face darkened completely, and with a thump, he slammed the table, making it hum. “Look at what you’ve done! What have you pushed Luna to do?! Her health is already so fragile!” At these words, Scarlett’s eyes immediately turned red with injustice. Conor widened his eyes in disbelief. “Mom and Dad! You actually believe Luna?” “I looked into her past. She’s begged on the streets, acted as an extra in film sets. Playing the victim and acting comes naturally to her, doesn’t it?” “Otherwise, have you ever seen a normal person like her, spitting blood after a few words, or fainting after a few steps?” “She’s clearly putting on an act!” Seeing Mom and Dad’s expressions soften, Conor’s eyes lit up, as if he’d just thought of something. With decisive action, he yanked me off the hospital bed without a word, pulling out my oxygen tube. “Mom and Dad, look, I’ve pulled out her oxygen tube, but her heart monitor is still beeping perfectly fine, isn’t it?” “If you ask me, her heart condition is probably faked too. If she were truly unwell, something would have happened by now.” “So, she must have bribed the doctors to falsify her medical records…” I instinctively shook my head, wanting to tell them it wasn’t true. I had just been terribly tormented by human traffickers years ago. Even though I was lucky enough to escape and survive, my body suffered lasting sequelae. But I couldn’t speak anymore. The familiar suffocating sensation surged, my face turned purple, and large gushes of blood poured from my mouth. Conor was still rattling on, while my heart monitor, amidst its “beep-beep” alarm, once again flatlined. They turned back halfway through their words, only to see this scene. The air froze for a moment. The next second, the hospital room erupted in chaos—screams, shouts, utter pandemonium. “Luna!!” Mom and Dad pushed Conor away, frantically catching my collapsing body. “Doctor! Go call the doctor now!!!” Conor froze for a second, looking at his blood-soaked hands. He then gasped, scrambling out to call the doctor. Scarlett, ignored by everyone for the first time, stood stunned, stamping her feet in anger. But at that moment, no one could pay attention to her. Amidst all the shouts, my world slowly plunged into darkness. 2. The next day, I was startled awake by the sound of the door being kicked open. Before I could even make out the situation, my brother Conor dragged me off the bed, and my vision swam. “Don’t you dare put on an act here!” Conor loomed over me, his eyes filled with disgust. “I spent all last night thinking, and it finally hit me. Did you hear that Scarlett needed a kidney donation, so you’re deliberately feigning this sickly appearance to avoid it?” “The blood could be pre-prepared blood bags, and the doctors and machines could be fake.” He sneered, “Luna, your little tricks might fool Mom and Dad, but they won’t fool me.” Mom and Dad’s footsteps paused as they entered the room, clearly having overheard Conor’s words. That very night, they immediately invited a renowned international doctor to conduct a thorough re-examination of me. Conor not only vetted the doctor strictly but also stood guard at the hospital room door throughout, preventing any communication between me and the doctor. The imposter, Scarlett, also arrived. She spoke softly, her eyes slightly red. “Mom, Dad, Conor, it’s okay. If Luna isn’t willing to donate a kidney, then let me just die. At least I’m content to spend my last days with you all.” As she spoke, tears began to fall. Conor was heartbroken, patting her back to comfort her. “Scarlett, don’t worry. With me here, no one can bully you. Luna will donate that kidney today, whether she wants to or not!” “You said… you want patient Luna to donate a kidney?!” The doctor walked in, holding my medical report, his expression subtle as he heard this. Conor immediately raised his voice. “What’s wrong with her donating a kidney? It’s not like she’ll die!” “If Luna still wants to be a part of this family, this is what she should do!” The doctor looked at Conor as if he were an idiot. “Patient Luna has a missing right kidney, suspected to have been violently removed by external means. Preliminary assessment indicates she suffered abuse.” Conor’s expression froze. Scarlett’s look of grievance also cracked for a moment. But she quickly recovered, tugging pitifully at Conor’s sleeve. Conor immediately came to his senses, cleared his throat, but his tone was noticeably less self-assured. “Can’t donate a kidney… then blood, surely?” He found a new angle, straightening his back. “Scarlett’s condition can also be treated with blood donation.” “As long as Scarlett gets a blood transfusion, her condition will improve more thoroughly. This shouldn’t be a problem, right?” Mom and Dad exchanged glances, their expressions softening a few degrees. Donating a kidney was indeed hard to accept, but donating blood… it didn’t seem like such a big deal. “Then draw blood,” Dad said in a low voice. “Luna’s body is weak, but a little blood shouldn’t be an issue.” Mom didn’t argue, just looked at me, a hint of reluctance in her eyes, but eventually turned her head away. “Blood donation?” The doctor repeated the word. His tone was somewhat odd. “Are you sure you want to use patient Luna’s blood?” 3. “Of course, we’re sure!” Conor frowned impatiently. “She’s just a bit weak, what’s wrong with drawing some blood? Scarlett’s condition is urgent!” The doctor was silent for two seconds, then opened the report in his hand: “But Luna suffers from severe aplastic anemia, platelet dysfunction, Factor VII deficiency, hypoproteinemia, chronic myelodysplastic syndrome, chronic blood-borne infectious disease…” As his words fell, the hospital room became so quiet you could hear a pin drop. In the silence, I slowly raised my hand, cautiously speaking, “Um, I’m willing… to donate blood to Scarlett…” Scarlett’s face instantly turned ashen. She shook her head, backing away. “No, no… not necessary…” She paused, then reacting, her eyes reddened again, this time with genuine emotion. “Sister, why are you deliberately targeting me like this?” “You know you have so many illnesses, yet you say you’re willing to donate blood to me. Are you deliberately trying to harm me?” I stared at her blankly, before I could even react, she had already pulled up her sleeve. A few small red rashes appeared on her fair arm. “Look!” She pulled a bouquet of roses from her bag and violently threw them at me. “I went home yesterday and found a bouquet of roses under my bed. Those are my most severe allergen! The maid said Luna secretly placed them under my bed the first day she came home!” “I really don’t know why Luna keeps targeting me…” I stared at the bouquet, eyes wide, and timidly shuffled my bottom backward. “Mom and Dad!” Conor, seeing my reaction, was as excited as if he had finally caught me red-handed. “Look at how guilty she looks! I bet she put them there, deliberately trying to harm Scarlett!” “She’s just jealous of Scarlett, she just wants to drive her out of this home! Luna, how can your intentions be so malicious?!” “Get rid of the flowers now!!!” The doctor’s face changed drastically. He pushed Conor aside, rushed over in a few steps, and kicked the roses on the floor away. “The patient has a severe pollen allergy; contact with flowers will immediately induce anaphylactic shock! Prepare for resuscitation immediately!” As if to confirm his words, large patches of red rashes visibly bloomed on my skin, my lips turned purple, and my eyelids uncontrollably rolled upward. In my blurred consciousness, Conor was still stubbornly saying, “She’s acting again, isn’t she? Luna, you’re really something, in just half a day you’ve already bribed another doctor…” “Enough!!” Dad roared, interrupting him. “Dr. Lin is an expert we invited from abroad! You personally vouched for him! Even the examinations were done while Luna was unconscious, and we watched the whole time! Could Luna have bribed him while she was unconscious?!”

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I’ll never forget that afternoon. When the campus’s brightest guy asked my best friend out for the tenth time, she pointed at me and said, “She’s struggling just like you. You two are perfect for each other.” A light sparked in his eyes when he looked at me. Ten years later, he was on the Forbes billionaire list. At a grand celebration, he thanked me for my decade of support, and everyone envied my title as Mrs. Muniz. Then, at a star-studded gala, I saw my friend—her wealthy husband had just died by suicide. That night, he threw a divorce agreement at me. “If you hadn’t hogged the title of Mrs. Muniz, she could’ve come to me for help.” We argued fiercely—our first fight in ten years. He froze all my accounts, but I wouldn’t sign. Then came the news: my mother was critically ill. I begged him to help, but he wouldn’t spend a penny. I watched her take her last breath. My father shoved me, shouting, “Why cling to him? You could’ve saved your mother!” My brother looked at me with hate. My five-year-old son sobbed, “Mommy, why didn’t you save Grandma?” That night, he smirked. “How much longer will you cling to this position?” I silently gave him the signed papers. I won’t cling anymore. Now, I’m going to find my mother. … When the signed agreement was pushed towards him, his cigar-holding hand froze. He didn’t even notice the burning tobacco singeing his fingers. “So compliant this time?” “Yeah.” He leaned closer. “What’s your game? Just say it.” “I’m going to find my mom.” Adam chuckled. “What, transferring your aunt to another hospital?” I froze. I looked at him, surprised. “Your aunt’s illness, only the hospital I recommended can treat it. If you go to her, where would you transfer her?” He… didn’t know Mom was dead. A bitter smile flashed across my face. “That, you don’t need to worry about.” With that, I stood up and dragged my already packed suitcase. I had so few belongings that one suitcase wasn’t even full. After arguing with him for so long, I had sold almost all my valuables. But it still wasn’t enough for Mom’s surgery. Perhaps Dad was right. I was the one who killed Mom. I deserved to atone. Opening the door, my neck was suddenly grabbed. I was pressed against the wall. “Playing hard to get?” Adam looked down at me. “You never agreed to sign before, now you’re so submissive.” “What, after you leave this door, what are you planning to do to Sarah?” It was always like this. He always judged me with the most malicious intentions. In the past, I would have smashed things in the house, reminding him that I was his wife of nearly ten years. But now, I simply smiled. “Choke me to death. Perfect, widowhood will automatically dissolve our marriage.” His hand recoiled as if burned. He stared at me in disbelief for a moment. Seeing that I didn’t try to evade him, he muttered “crazy” and turned to leave. I found a rented room. I had accumulated a lot of sleeping pills. If I took them all, I could quietly slip away. I looked at the gray, bare branches outside the window. I smiled. I opened the pill bottle. A loud crash. My hand trembled. The pill bottle fell to the floor, pills scattering everywhere. Adam clutched my arm, a cold sneer on his lips. “I knew you were too compliant signing that agreement. You were planning to kill Sarah!” Before I could explain, I was forcibly dragged away. The car stopped in an open field on the outskirts, and I was pulled out. I was roughly shoved in front of Sarah Evans. She wore a sequined performance outfit, her arms and legs covered in bruises. Her eyes red, she looked at me. “Chloe, even if I’m down and out, I still have morals! I never wanted to break up your family. Why would you tie me up and have me assaulted? If Mr. Muniz hadn’t arrived in time, those animals you hired would have killed me by now!” Looking at those people I didn’t recognize at all, I said coldly, “I didn’t.” “Still denying it?” Adam gripped my chin. “These people confessed you instigated it. What, could Sarah have orchestrated this herself?” Sarah quickly exchanged a glance with the thugs. They suddenly burst into tears. “Madam! Are you going back on your word?” “Yeah, Madam! You said you’d take care of anything that happened!” “You said Ms. Evans was a prostitute and there was nothing to worry about! If we had known she was Mr. Muniz’s favorite, we wouldn’t have dared even with a hundred guts!” Sarah began to sob softly. Adam’s hand on my chin almost crushed my bones. “If you keep playing tough, forget about your mother’s medical expenses entirely!” I looked at him, my eyes red. Then I suddenly smiled. “Mother? She’s gone! What medical expenses?” Adam’s pupils constricted. The next second, a harsh slap landed on my face. “Now, just to be spiteful, you’ll say anything!” Sarah suddenly spoke up. “Chloe, even though Mr. Muniz and you have some disagreements, he never took it out on your aunt. Even I, an outsider, know that Mr. Muniz has a dedicated medical account for your aunt, depositing hundreds of thousands every month.” I froze. I looked up at Adam. His expression was cold, just as it had always been. How could such a man give Mom hundreds of thousands a month for medical expenses? If that were true, how could Mom have died! They were all lying to me. Using a phantom account to threaten me into divorce. They were all lying to me… Adam said coldly, “Even now, are you still refusing to admit it?” I took a deep breath. “What do you want from me?” “Kneel and apologize to her.” “Oh, no need, we’re after all best fr—” Sarah was about to object, but I had already knelt down and respectfully bowed my head. “I’m sorry.” Adam looked at me in disbelief. I stood up, brushing the dirt from my knees. “If there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.” The pills scattered on the floor of my rented room, I hadn’t taken them yet. “Stop.” A knife was placed on the table. Adam said coldly, “Sarah suffered so much because of you. Do you think a mere apology will suffice?” I turned back. He sneered, “However many cuts she endured, you will too.” Sarah clutched the scrapes on her arm, her eyes instantly red. “Fine,” I said. It seemed there was no other way to die. I picked up the knife and savagely plunged it towards my heart. “Chloe!” A hand gripped mine, holding the knife. Adam struggled against my strength. I stared at him. The tip of the knife moved another two inches closer to my heart. “Chloe!!” I clutched the knife handle. He clutched my hand. “If you want your child thrown into an orphanage, then stab that knife in now!” I froze. “Chloe, I won’t raise that bastard.” I opened my mouth. Blood trickled from my lips. “You…” He cut me off. “If you really want to die, take that bastard with you. That face, so much like yours, disgusts me!” That’s right… Adam hated me. So, Leo… he would hate him too… If I died, no one would truly care for Leo. Maybe Adam would even find people to bully him… The knife was violently pulled out. I coughed up a mouthful of blood, stumbled, and he caught me in his arms. Before losing consciousness, I heard his sharp cry. “Ambulance! Call an ambulance!” When I woke again, I was lying in a VIP hospital room. Adam looked at me with a cold sneer. “Your methods are getting more sophisticated. Even faking a suicide attempt looks so real.” I looked at him. He curled his lips into a sarcastic smile. “Sarah was right, you really are suited to be an actress.” He left. I lay alone on the bed, staring at the white ceiling, clutching my chest. That same afternoon, I knocked on my brother Rob’s door. On the table, Mom’s memorial photo still sat. On the sofa, was the scarf Mom hadn’t finished knitting for him. It was getting cold, and she had meant for him to wear it. Seeing it was me, he immediately moved to close the door. I stuck a hand in the gap. “Rob, I’m here to ask you for a favor.” Rob turned his head away, refusing to look at me. I entered the house. He sat on the sofa, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t smoke or drink. After Mom died, he took up both. “I’m sorry, Rob. I should have listened to you from the start.” He blew out a smoke ring, saying nothing. “I shouldn’t have been so unwilling to give up these ten years, I shouldn’t have argued with you and Dad over Adam. I should have listened to you from the beginning and given Mrs. Muniz’s position to Sarah Evans.” “I’m sorry…” Rob sneered. “What good is ‘I’m sorry’? Can ‘I’m sorry’ bring Mom back?” I choked. He looked at me. “It’s because you were always so focused on jealousy that Mom died!” The last few words were gritted through his teeth. “How could I have a sister like you!” I lowered my head, my voice trembling. “But Rob… I beg you, please take care of Leo.” He froze. “Adam won’t take care of him.” “I don’t ask you to treat him as your own child.” “At least, don’t let him be bullied.” Rob stared at me, then suddenly let out a cold laugh. “What, playing the victim?” I remained silent. “Leo has a mother like you. He’s naturally unlucky.” “Rob, I beg you.” “Get out.” “Rob…” “Get out!” An ashtray smashed near my foot. “Get out! Don’t dirty Mom’s eyes here!” I turned back. Mom’s memorial photo was on the table, smiling kindly at me. I knelt down and bowed deeply. Then, I turned and knelt before Rob, bowing my head. “Rob, I’m counting on you.” Without waiting for his astonished gaze, I turned and strode out. I walked out the door and got into my car. Rob’s voice came from the doorway. “Don’t ever come back! Go die wherever you want! Don’t say you’re my sister! The Reid family has no sister like you!” I gripped the steering wheel, tears streaming down my face. It was okay if I was cursed. I knew. Rob wouldn’t abandon Leo in the end. I started the car and drove away. The sleeping pills sat quietly on the table. I lay on the bed in my rented room. I set a timed message for my landlord, to be sent in twenty-four hours, asking her to contact a funeral home for me. My last bit of jewelry, once sold, would fetch over twenty thousand dollars. Not enough for Mom’s surgery. But enough to compensate the landlord for any losses. After doing all this, I reached for the pills. The door suddenly burst open. My throat clenched. I uncontrollably threw up. Adam grabbed my chin. His eyes red. “What have you done?! What have you and your mother done to Sarah!!” Adam had never been so distraught. Even in the past, when we fought fiercely over a divorce agreement, he would only give me a cold glance and toss out a line like: “Fine, we’ll take our time. Let’s see who outlasts whom.” I had never seen him so enraged. Just as I was wondering what was going on, Sarah Evans appeared at the doorway. Her performance outfit had long been replaced by a custom-made silk dress, but it was now tattered. There was a trace of blood at the corner of her mouth. She rushed forward like a madwoman, slapping me fiercely across the face. “How can you be so vicious! You and your mother won’t be satisfied until you destroy me!” I stared at her blankly. Her chest heaved. “I told you, I have morals, I would never break up your family with Mr. Muniz! We were best friends, for heaven’s sake. How could you be so utterly insane, having your mother send me messages, tricking me into visiting her at the hospital?” “And then having a bunch of animals take intimate photos of me!” I chuckled. Sure enough. Another setup. But I was so tired. Too tired to explain anymore. Sarah began to sob. “If Mr. Muniz hadn’t found me, my intimate photos would be all over the internet by now!” “How convenient,” I said, not even lifting an eyelid. “Every time I ‘frame’ you, Adam shows up just in time.” She froze. I smiled, looking up. “It’s as if you arranged it in advance.” Bang! I was shoved violently. The back of my head hit the wall. Adam, furious, threw a stack of photos in my face. “Are you saying Sarah used such methods to disgrace herself, just to compete with you?!” In the photos, Sarah’s clothes were tattered, her eyes filled with terror. She was forced to look at the camera by countless hands. Her eyes were full of humiliation and tears. At first glance, it was indeed heart-wrenching. But on closer inspection, the angles and compositions of these photos were too polished. As if someone had written a script in advance. My hand under the covers clutched the unfinished sleeping pills. I sneered. “Nicely shot. Could pass for art.” “You!” Sarah covered her mouth. I looked at Adam. “What do you want, Mr. Muniz? Beat me up or throw me in jail? Whatever it is, hurry up, I have things to do.” Adam’s fist trembled slightly. “That would be too easy for you.” A dozen burly men entered from the doorway. “Naturally, to treat someone as they’ve treated you, is the most effective!” I froze. Cameras were set up in no time. Adam coldly instructed from the doorway. “Shoot her exactly as you shot Sarah.” With that, the door closed. Before I could even make a sound, my mouth was covered. Sarah’s photos were carefully staged. My photos, however, were genuine humiliation. In no time, a hundred photos were taken. My shirt buttons had already popped onto the floor. I lay on the bed, my eyes vacant. Adam inspected the photos, took the negatives, and sneered. He came to my bedside, leaning over. “You know, if your mother saw these photos of you, would she just drop dead?” I stared at the ceiling, saying nothing. He sneered. He got up and called his subordinate. “Get the car ready. To the hospital. To see the old lady.” “Yes!” He walked away. My hand from under the covers came out. The sleeping pills. Finally, I could take them. Mom, I’m coming to apologize to you. I’m sorry. Don’t hate me. At this moment, Adam was walking downstairs. His subordinate called again.

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My relationship with Ryan Maxwell had been a secret for eight years. Today, April Fool’s Day, a popular streamer and host, Sierra Thorne, publicly tagged Ryan online, posting a photo of them holding hands. Her caption claimed he was hers, both in-game and out. The internet exploded. This “girl-chases-boy” pairing instantly topped the trending charts, with fans showering them with blessings. I immediately called Ryan, but he casually dismissed it, saying it was just Sierra’s April Fool’s joke for her fans, and she’d delete it tomorrow. Then, I heard Sierra’s voice in the background, laced with mockery, saying I was being a sore loser, taking an April Fool’s joke seriously. The surrounding chatter blurred. I stared at the new jungle pathing analysis I’d just finished writing on my desk, and suddenly, the past eight years of my dedication felt utterly meaningless. I tore up the analysis paper. Calmly, I told Ryan to go public with their relationship; there was no need to delete the post. 1 Silence hung on the other end for a moment. Then, I heard the voices of Ryan’s teammates: “Seriously? Max, your girlfriend is such a drama queen.” “You have me on speaker?” I realized. Everyone had heard what I said. “Yeah. Everyone was having a good time until your call ruined it.” Ryan’s voice held a hint of annoyance. “I’ll talk to you properly when I get home tonight. Can you please stop making such a big deal out of it? Sierra was just kidding.” I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and said faintly, “Whatever. We’re done.” Then, I hung up, rubbing my aching stomach. Ever since he won the world championship last year, Sierra had been openly pursuing him. He’d gone from actively avoiding her and even refusing her interviews to openly flirting and bantering with her on camera. Everyone called them the sweetest open secret in esports. Every boundary-crossing act, he’d dismissed as “just a joke.” On April Fool’s Day, he even went along with an “official announcement” joke. I, his real girlfriend, who had been with him for eight years, from his unknown days in the academy team to reaching the pinnacle of the world stage and winning the World Championship – a girlfriend he had never once mentioned on stage – felt like the real joke. He wouldn’t have even ranked first in the European server, let alone joined a pro academy team, if it weren’t for my work. 2 I sat on the sofa from afternoon until dark. He didn’t come back for me. In the past, he would have rushed home immediately, but this time, he didn’t. It wasn’t until nine that evening when Ryan finally returned. He reeked faintly of alcohol and pulled me into his arms without a word. “Still mad, babe? I already told Sierra to delete the post and make a statement saying it was a fake prank. Don’t be mad anymore, okay?” After he spoke, I took out my phone to check. Sierra had indeed posted: [That last post was fake, haha (someone’s shy QWQ)! Happy April Fool’s, everyone! P.S. Hope I can post the same thing next Valentine’s Day, meow~] The accompanying picture was a selfie of her with her arms around Ryan’s neck, their faces pressed close together. Looking at the almost provocative caption and selfie, I just had to laugh bitterly. I wriggled out of his embrace and sat up. “You really think her post is okay?” He sat up too, his previously gentle expression hardening. “What’s wrong? Didn’t she say it was fake? Why are you being so nitpicky?” “Am I being nitpicky?” My eyes instantly welled up. Staring at Ryan’s face, a face I had loved for eight years, a bitter ache of injustice filled my heart. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?” He said, his face cold. “The girl’s just a bit lively, likes interacting with her fans. And fans love it; it brings me more hype and endorsement deals. What can you do now besides act like a nagging old woman? Just compete with other women?” “Have I ever made you work these past few years? Haven’t I been supporting you? Sierra graduated from a top university, she’s a famous gaming host. You just have to pick on her,” he sneered. “You’re not just jealous she’s better than you, are you?” The moment he finished speaking, I slapped him across the face, my voice trembling. “Get out! Without me, would you have achieved what you have today?” He stood there, his face icy, and left me with one last remark: “Don’t get ahead of yourself just because you play a few games. Have you ever played in a real competition?” With that, he slammed the door, leaving me shaking with rage. 3 Eight years ago, he said he wanted to be a pro gamer, not work a regular job. Because I loved the same game as him, I also wanted him to achieve his dream. So, I started working during the day and spent my evenings helping him analyze patches and figure out the best jungle routes. Because of me, he successfully joined the academy team. The first year, his income was minimal. His family didn’t support him, so our living expenses depended entirely on my meager salary. Ryan told me that once he made a name for himself, he would never let me suffer again. He promised to take care of me, forbidding me from working. Then, armed with my research, he ranked day and night. Until the transfer period, his era finally arrived. When he signed his big contract, he hugged me, spinning me around our tiny rented apartment several times. He said, “My darling Nora, you’re amazing! Way better than those clueless coaches now! Quit your crummy job; you’ll be my personal coach from now on!” Back then, I thought we needed each other. So I quit my job, helped him with replays, accompanied him in ranked games. While others had an off-season, he always had his private training sessions with me. Not wanting to add to his pressure, I secretly took on some coaching and boosting jobs to earn money for our living expenses. His prize money, he saved, planning for our future wedding. Later, he grew stronger and stronger, becoming a true golden-tier jungler. Tears soaked my pillow; I could barely breathe from the sadness. How could he say I was completely dependent on him? Hadn’t we achieved this together? I believed he was sincere then, but I never expected sincerity to be so fleeting. The Ryan who used to care for me was truly gone. I tried to fall asleep quickly, but my stomach ache kept me awake. Helpless, I opened my phone. And saw Sierra had posted on her social media. A picture. Her hand, blowing someone’s hair dry. The person’s face wasn’t visible, but I knew him intimately. [Found a stray puppy. Others didn’t want him, so I’ll gladly take him in~] I liked the post and commented: [Trash really needs a trash can.] 4 I finally managed to fall asleep, only to be woken at 2 AM by a frantic call. “Nora, are you out of your mind? You can insult me, but why insult Sierra?” “You told me to get lost in the middle of the night. I had nowhere to go, and Sierra kindly took me in. Nothing happened between us. She just posted on social media, why are you insulting her?” “Our issues are between us; don’t drag innocent people into it, okay? Nora, after all this time, I never knew you were like this!” He yelled at me, and then I heard a woman’s muffled sobs from his end. He whispered soothingly, “Don’t cry. I’ll make her apologize to you, okay? Come on, wipe your tears, you’re like a little kitten.” “I… I don’t need an apology… I know his old lady is mad at me, so insulting me is… is deserved…” She stammered, sobbing, “But why would she insult you… You’ve supported her for so long… and I’ve been so good to you… yet you never even look at me… I feel bad for you… it’s not fair!” With them so deeply in love, I felt like the villain, blocking their romance. “Nora, apologize to Sierra.” My voice was hoarse. “No way. Do whatever you want, just don’t bother me anymore.” “Then get out of the house I bought!” He said it, then froze himself. I didn’t speak for a long time, feeling as if it was hard to breathe. This house, we bought it together, but I hadn’t paid as much as he did. Yet, he’d put my name on the deed. He’d promised: This is our marital home. Once bought, it’s yours. Not even I have the right to make you leave. If we argue, you can kick me out. But now, for another woman, he was taking back the security he’d given me. His voice softened, sounding tired. “Apologize to Sierra, and we’ll pretend nothing happened and stay together. Even though you’re upset, you also slapped me, so we’re even.” “I’ll sign the house over to you tomorrow.” My voice was terribly hoarse. “I don’t care for it anymore.” 5 I had no home left in this country. With tears in my eyes, I called my mom. “Mom, I want to come home.” As if knowing I was hurting, she said nothing, only asked, “Do you have money for a plane ticket?” I was sobbing uncontrollably, my vision blurred with tears as I bought a plane ticket to leave the country in three days. The next day, with swollen eyes, I arrived at the property transfer office. The line was long. I sat and waited for a while before Ryan finally showed up, fashionably late. Sierra followed him, dressed glamorously. When she saw me, a flicker of disdain crossed her eyes. Ryan frowned deeply. “You’ve been crying?” He gritted his teeth. “You just had to cause a scene. We could have made up yesterday, but now you’ve made yourself so miserable.” He took my hand. “Alright, let’s go home. Stop this.” But my gaze immediately fell on his empty wrist. I instantly retorted: “Where’s the red string? The red string we got together? Did you throw that away too?” He froze. Sierra spoke up then: “I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was important to you guys. I thought it was just a regular string, so I threw it away.” I closed my eyes, then quietly told Ryan: “We went to the Temple of Serenity together for that. It had some of my hair in it.” If the hair was lost, the owner would suffer bad luck. We were young then, believing in those old tales, believing we would be together forever. The one with his hair, I wore on my wrist, never taking it off except to shower. “If you didn’t want it, you could have given it back to me. Why throw it away?” My nose burned. “You knew I cared about that the most!” “Alright, it’s just a string. Sierra didn’t do it on purpose. I’ll get you a hundred more, okay?” He sounded impatient. “Why do you always care about these unimportant, useless things?” “Because I love you!” I roared, then collapsed onto the chair, muttering, “But now, I don’t. Not even a little bit.” I tore off the red string from my wrist and tossed it into a nearby trash can, along with my last shred of hope. Ryan stared for a long time, his eyes reddening. Then he said coldly, “Fine. Fine then. If you don’t love me, get lost. No need to bother each other anymore.” I wiped away my tears and looked at him. “I can live without you, but what about you?” He was used to me meticulously handing him all my research, used to me staying up all night helping him find the meta. What would he, the lazy one, do if I left? Finally, our turn came. In front of me, as if out of spite from my words, Ryan transferred the house deed to Sierra. She looked overjoyed, then worriedly spoke: “I truly didn’t realize my feelings would cause such a big impact on you two.” I couldn’t be bothered with her fake sincerity. Just as I was about to turn and leave, someone, appearing out of nowhere, shoved me to the ground. The pain in my abdomen nearly overwhelmed me. The person wasn’t done, kicking me and yelling, “Why are you trying to ruin Sierra and God Ryan’s love? Are you that pathetic?!” Ryan grabbed her, about to retaliate, but Sierra chose that moment to fall. Ryan immediately let go to help her up, and the attacker fled. After helping Sierra up, he finally came to help me. “Hospital… take me to the hospital…” Eight years of a relationship, he couldn’t even help me with this last small favor. He picked me up, but Sierra tugged at his sleeve: “Weren’t you going to help me pick out a kitten? The pet store will close soon…” I clutched Ryan’s collar, but after a glance at me, he slowly placed me back on the bench. “Just a push, it shouldn’t be too serious,” he said softly. “Take a taxi yourself. I’ll reimburse you.” My heart plummeted into an icy abyss. I watched helplessly as Ryan and Sierra walked further and further away, step by step. Sierra looked back at me, a mocking smile on her face.

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When I went into the bathroom to hand Silas his soap, he was right in the middle of his shower. My gaze swept over his wet skin, and I thought to myself: Damn, it’s actually pink. Silas froze. The very next second, a heavy bar of soap came flying at my head, nearly knocking me out cold. 1 Silas came home late that evening. I waited by the door, a picture-perfect smile on my face, and signed: Welcome home, darling. Silas didn’t even spare me a glance. He walked right past me like I was made of glass. I glared at his broad back and cursed him in my head: Are you blind? Can’t you see your own wife standing right here? Suddenly, Silas stumbled. He stopped in his tracks and looked back at me. I instantly dropped my glare, flashed a sweet smile, and signed: Is something wrong? His eyes darkened. He looked me up and down before muttering, “Nothing.” 2 My name is Harper Bennett, the second daughter of the Bennett family. Because I was born mute, I was the invisible child, the one completely ignored by my own parents. Two months ago, the Sinclair family proposed a marriage alliance with us. My dad originally wanted to marry off my older sister, Serena. Serena had even put on a shy, blushing act, eagerly expressing her deep affection for the Sinclair heir. But to everyone’s absolute shock, Silas pointed a finger straight at the dark corner where I was hiding and said with a straight face, “I want to marry her.” I didn’t even process what was happening. When I finally turned my head, I caught Serena staring at me with pure, venomous hatred. 3 We slept in separate bedrooms on our wedding night, but I desperately wanted to cross that line. At one in the morning, I snuck into Silas’s room. Turns out, the man wasn’t asleep at all. In the pitch black, his voice came out low and vicious, “Get out.” I jumped out of my skin and nearly collapsed onto the expensive rug. Silas flipped on the bedside lamp. Under the dim, warm light, his sharp, incredibly handsome features were half-hidden in the shadows. I pointed at my own chest, playing dumb: Me? Silas understood my sign language perfectly. He fired back, “Who else is in here?” I stood up straight, squared my shoulders, and signed boldly: I want to sleep with you. “…” Silas got out of bed, his massive hand suddenly shooting out to pinch my cheeks. I froze, completely terrified to move. His voice was ice-cold as it brushed against my ear: “I only married you because you’re quiet. There is no other reason. Know your place, and don’t ever pull a stunt like this again.” 4 My outward reaction: Oh no, I’m so scared. My inner monologue: Hehe, totally doing that again. Silas had completely misjudged me. The “quiet and docile” personality was just an act. Deep down, I was a walking menace with a rebellious streak a mile wide. The more he told me no, the more I wanted to push his buttons. We were legally married. What the hell did “knowing my place” even mean? Still, I knew I couldn’t push my luck too fast. I had to practice my moves in my head first. A week ago, I was daydreaming about him as usual, totally lost in my own spicy little fantasy. I didn’t expect Silas to walk right past me at that exact moment. Panic flared in my chest. I pretended to trip, sending my head crashing straight into his rock-hard chest. The impact practically knocked my soul out of my body. Silas grabbed my arms to steady me. “Careful.” 5 It was right around that time that I noticed Silas acting weird. He became incredibly irritable and would glare at me for absolutely no reason. And I swear I hadn’t done anything wrong. For example, when we were eating breakfast together. I took a sneaky peek at him: Those shirt buttons are fighting for their lives. A man’s chest is truly his best dowry. Silas’s eyelid twitched violently. “Stop eating breakfast with me from now on.” Or, another time, when I was helping him get dressed: Wow, what a waist. Wonder how long he can actually last? Two seconds max? Silas’s entire body went rigid. He violently shoved his arms back into his jacket. “Never come into my walk-in closet again.” …What a diva. Like I actually want to serve you anyway. I kept a gentle, innocent expression on my face and signed: I understand. I turned around to leave, but Silas grabbed my shoulder and pinned me against the wall. He tilted my chin up, forcing me to look him in the eye. My reflection stared back at me in his deep, narrow eyes. “Harper.” He said my name. “Even though we are husband and wife, you need to learn some boundaries.” I blinked slowly, giving him my best doe-eyed look. But inside, I was screaming: Oh, I definitely want to measure your boundaries. “You…” He trailed off, snapping his mouth shut. He released me and turned his back. “Forget it. Just get out.” 6 Tonight, Silas went straight to the shower right after coming home. Determined to end my dry spell, I had already laid out all his usual toiletries. Halfway through his shower, he realized his soap was missing. I was already standing guard by the door, ready for action. Inside the bathroom, hot steam rolled through the air like a sauna. And standing right there was a man with broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Droplets of water slid down his pale, muscular chest. Further down were eight perfectly sculpted abs. Silas reached out a hand, his voice raspy. “Give it to me.” Thrilled, I quickly grabbed his hand instead. His large palm was incredibly warm, the wet heat making my mouth go instantly dry. He gripped my hand back, his thumb slowly sliding up my wrist. I gulped hard: It’s happening! It’s finally happening! Wreck me! Destroy me! I am ready! I’ll be superwoman tonight! Then Silas’s voice floated down from above. “Give me the soap.” Son of a bitch. I slapped the bar of soap into his palm. Silas immediately tried to kick me out. “Leave.” But I didn’t move an inch. I literally couldn’t take my eyes off his flawless skin. I stared right at him, openly checking him out: He’s so pale. I bet it’s pink. Yep, definitely pink. Not bad. Not bad at all. I completely missed the dark, murderous aura radiating from him. I kept fantasizing: First we’ll do it like this, then like that, and then… Silas scowled. He shifted slightly to cover himself and snapped: “Are you leaving or not?” My brain short-circuited. I pointed directly at his crotch and signed: Could you swing it around for me to see? Silas completely lost his mind. Furious, he hurled the soap right at my head: “Get out!” 7 Thank God for my quick reflexes, or that bar of soap would have been the end of me. Because of that little comment, Silas avoided me like the plague for days. This awkward tension dragged on until Bella Roth’s lavish birthday gala. I walked into the ballroom with my arm linked through Silas’s. He instantly commanded the room, getting swarmed by businessmen and socialites. I was casually shoved to the sidelines. Someone accidentally bumped their glass, spilling red wine all over my designer dress. A huge, dark stain bloomed across the fabric. No one apologized. I was so used to being treated like invisible trash that I barely even blinked. I headed to the restroom alone to try and scrub the stain out. Bella Roth, the birthday girl, was already in there. Dressed in a blood-red gown, she glared at me with a vicious look that reminded me of a ghost from a cheap horror movie. My stomach dropped. Four or five girls caked in heavy makeup blocked the exit behind me. Someone shoved me hard in the back. Bella walked toward me with a sickeningly sweet smile. “Harper, how have you been?” “Does Mr. Sinclair actually like you?” None of your damn business. I turned to leave. Bella grabbed my arm, pulled me back, and slapped me hard across the face. “You mute bitch, you think you can ignore me?” She grabbed a handful of my hair and slammed me backward into a stall door. My ears rang violently, and my cheek burned like fire. Bella leaned in close, whispering venomously: “Don’t think playing the pathetic victim will win his heart. He doesn’t love you.” “He only married you to put on a show.” I parted my lips and mouthed the words slowly: Dumb. Ass. “What did you just say?” Bella turned to her minions. “Shove her in there!” The girls swarmed me, dragging me into a toilet stall and slamming the door shut. A second later, a bucket of freezing water rained down on me from over the partition. I was soaked to the bone, the water smelling faintly of sewage. Shrill laughter echoed off the tiles. “Harper, just beg for mercy and we’ll let you out.” “How is a mute supposed to beg?” “She can get on her knees!” “Hahaha!” The laughter outside grew louder. 8 I didn’t have my phone on me. I had to get myself out of this mess. Fine. Game on. I calmly wiped the filthy water from my eyes, hiked up my ruined dress, stepped onto the toilet tank, hoisted myself over the partition, and dropped down into the empty stall next door. I had always wondered what it would be like to use a mop dipped in toilet water. Thanks for giving me the perfect opportunity, ladies. I grabbed the dirty mop from the corner, soaked it straight into the toilet bowl, and swung it with everything I had. Honestly, even the Pope wasn’t this generous with holy water. I baptized every single one of them. The girls shrieked, their faces pale with horror as they scrambled away. “Help! That’s so gross!” “Somebody stop her!” “Harper, are you insane?!” I smirked: No shit, Sherlock. You have to be crazy to deal with bitches like you. 9 After the gala ended, Bella tried to play the victim. She ran crying to Silas, claiming I attacked her with a filthy mop. “Mr. Sinclair, Harper just lost her mind and started hitting us!” She held out her stained red dress. “Look at what she did to my clothes…” I stared at her terrible acting and rolled my eyes: Keep going. Keep crying. It’s a crime you don’t have an Oscar yet. Bella wiped away fake tears, playing the poor, innocent girl to perfection. Before she could even finish her sob story, Silas walked right past her. He took off his custom suit jacket and draped it gently over my shivering shoulders. He turned to Bella, his voice lethal. “What exactly did you say to provoke her?” Bella froze. “…What?” Silas wrapped an arm around my waist, his tone absolute. “Harper is quiet and incredibly level-headed. You must have said something completely out of line, otherwise she would never act like that.” “And look at her face. Are you trying to tell me she hit herself?” “Apologize to her.” Seeing Silas defend me so fiercely, Bella realized she had lost. Through gritted teeth, she muttered: “I’m. Sorry. Harper.” 10 I never expected Silas to stand up for me like that. After Bella stormed off, I looked up at him with a soft smile and signed: Thank you. Meanwhile, my mind was going wild: God, I just want to pin you to a bed and thank you properly. Silas: “…” He reached out, his hand hovering over my cheek. Clearly afraid of hurting me, his fingers simply rested near my bruised skin for a second. “Does it hurt?” I was fine a second ago, but the moment he asked, a huge wave of unfairness washed over me. I bit my lip hard, fighting back tears: Don’t cry. Don’t cry. It doesn’t hurt at all. It’s not like I haven’t been hit before. Pain go away, pain go away. I shook my head and signed: I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. Silas gently smoothed my wet hair. “Let’s go home.” It was the first time he had ever been that gentle with me. 11 That bucket of dirty water successfully gave me a fever. But my mind was still sharp. I was lying in bed, bored out of my mind, when Silas walked into my room. He pressed the back of his hand against my forehead. “Still burning up.” I gave him a seductive smile. Get in bed with me, and I’ll be even hotter. Silas’s expression instantly morphed into something indescribable. He stood up. Just as I thought he was going to walk out, he pulled back the covers and gently lay down right next to me. Me: “???” Pure survival instinct kicked in. I scrambled to the far edge of the mattress, creating distance between us. Seeing me run away, his brows furrowed in annoyance. “What are you hiding from?” I nervously signed: What are you doing? He didn’t answer. He just reached out, yanked me right back into the middle of the bed, and tucked the blankets tightly around me, like he was afraid I’d bolt again. He ordered, “Close your eyes. Sleep.” I obediently shut my eyes, but my mind was racing: What does this mean? Is he trying to test-drive a girl with a 102-degree fever? I’m totally going to die of a heart attack. As much as I wanted to sleep with him, now that it was actually happening, I was terrified. … The room was completely silent. I cracked one eye open just a sliver and saw Silas resting with his eyes closed. The morning light hit his face, making his sharp features look clean and relaxed. Just as I was staring at him in a daze, Silas suddenly opened his eyes. “Just go to sleep. I’m not going to do anything.” I let out a huge breath of relief and nodded like a good girl: Oh, so we’re literally just sleeping. Good thing he’s not a total animal. Silas tightened his arm around my waist. Feeling safe, I finally drifted off to sleep. 12 Sometime in the middle of the night, my fever broke, leaving me drenched in cold sweat. The sticky, uncomfortable feeling made me pull off my pajama top in my sleep. I rolled over and crashed right into a warm chest. That firm, smooth feeling… Whoa. Abs. I splayed both hands out and squeezed hard. A second later, I heard Silas mutter in his sleep, “Be gentle…” Holy shit! My eyes flew open. I bolted upright in panic. Silas flinched, waking up instantly. His arm automatically reached for my back. His voice was thick with sleep. “What’s wrong?” I was sitting there in absolutely nothing but my underwear, violently shivering. Internally, I was shrieking: Ahhhhhh! Silas hastily turned on the lamp to check on me. I pushed him away, desperately wrapping the thick duvet around my body. Silas leaned in close. “What happened? Does something hurt?” I shook my head frantically, scooting further back against the headboard. I pointed frantically at the door, telling him to leave. Go! Get out! Just go! Silas stared at me. A cold smirk pulled at his lips. “You’re kicking me out?” “Where’s all that courage you had when you told me to swing it?” Tch… Looking all pink and cute, but holding onto a grudge like a psycho. My face was burning up, my head spinning. I had no choice but to play the pity card. I put on my most fragile, helpless expression and signed: I’m really sick right now. It would be terrible if you caught my bug. You should probably sleep in your own room. Silas stared at me in dead silence. Why isn’t he reacting? Did he not understand my signs? I slowly, deliberately signed it a second time. “I understood you perfectly,” he said. Silas got out of bed and walked out the door. “I’m leaving, okay?” Me: “?” Why did he sound so incredibly offended? 13 My parents heard I was sick and made a special trip to the Sinclair estate to “visit.” After three minutes of fake pleasantries, they got right down to business: my marriage. My mom grabbed my hand, putting on her most serious, motherly voice. “Harper, are things okay between you and Mr. Sinclair?” “If you two aren’t happy, it’s better to just get a divorce sooner rather than later.” My dad nodded vigorously in agreement. “Exactly, exactly.” “Your sister has always loved Mr. Sinclair. She’s far more suited for a position like this.” “Just come home. Stop embarrassing him.” These two were tag-teaming me, practically begging me to divorce my own husband. Hmph. I knew they didn’t actually care about my health. I shook my head firmly and signed my rejection: I don’t want a divorce. I hadn’t even slept with the man yet. Why the hell would I divorce him now? Seeing me refuse, their masks immediately slipped. My dad pointed a finger right in my face and started yelling: “You don’t want to?” “You don’t get a say in this marriage!” “If Mr. Sinclair didn’t have a thing for quiet girls, do you really think a mute like you would be living like this?!” I held my ground: I’m not signing anything. My dad gritted his teeth. “You little…!” Realizing they couldn’t bully me into it, they marched straight up to the study to talk to Silas. I crept down the hallway and pressed my ear to the heavy oak door. Inside, Silas stayed quiet for a very long time, making my anxiety spike. He didn’t exactly like me. What if he really wanted out? Especially considering how often I sexually harassed him. A minute later, Silas’s voice finally cut through the tension. He spoke calmly, firmly. “Harper and I are very happy together. Divorce is completely off the table.” 14 His answer left me stunned. Happy? Who was happy? Did Silas actually enjoy me constantly bothering him? My parents were still desperately trying to change his mind: “Mr. Sinclair, please. Our youngest can’t even speak. It damages your public image.” “And she’s a troublemaker. We heard she offended the Roth family just the other day.” “I’m sure she herself feels unworthy of you.” “And besides…” I didn’t stick around to listen to the rest. I went back to my bedroom to wait for the fallout. About half an hour later, Silas practically kicked my bedroom door open. His first words were: “Harper Bennett, you want a divorce?” Huh? Why is he so pissed? Seeing him so worked up was fascinating. On a whim, I decided to mess with him: Since you don’t really like me, I don’t want to hold you back. Let’s just part ways peacefully. Internally, I was totally chill about it: If we divorce, we divorce. If I can’t eat this piece of meat, I’ll just find another restaurant. Silas glared at me in silence for a solid minute before gritting out: “You were desperate to get into my bed. You tried every trick in the book to get close to me, and now you’re bored already?” Yep. I’m just a fickle girl who likes shiny new things. I forced a single, dramatic tear to roll down my cheek and signed: I’m sorry. Silas let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Perfect.” He turned on his heel and stormed out. “Just you wait!”

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Lately, Joey had been piecing my life together through the casual remarks of others. When his friends jokingly congratulated him on becoming a “trophy husband”, it finally dawned on him that I had already paid the down payment on a new house entirely on my own. A group photo posted on my best friend’s Instagram was the only way he found out I had chopped off all my hair into a sharp bob. Even when I flew out to his city for a business trip, he only found out because we literally collided at the corner of a shopping mall. He furrowed his brows, asking why I hadn’t told him I was in town. His voice was thick with genuine confusion. “You used to sit through a six-hour cross-country flight just to see me for a weekend without a single complaint.” I avoided his gaze and threw out a casual excuse. “Work has been crazy lately. I barely have time to breathe.” Looking at his stunned expression, a random memory flashed through my mind. Just half a month ago, I had been perfectly willing to drop my entire career without a second thought just to make it to a date with him. 1 When I bumped into Joey at the mall, I was actually on the phone with my best friend, Brooke, making plans for dinner. “Wow, did hell freeze over?” Brooke teased through the speaker. “I thought you only ever visited Seattle to play the devoted girlfriend.” Her tone made me laugh. “I swear on my life, I am here for a week-long business trip, and I am absolutely not seeing him.” Brooke let out a dramatic gasp, clearly not believing a word. And fair enough. In the past, I had nearly quit my six-figure job just to secure a weekend off to see Joey. Right after I made that blood oath to Brooke, a hand suddenly grabbed my wrist as I rounded the corner. “You’re here again? Didn’t we just see each other two weeks ago?” I stared blankly at the person holding onto me. It took me a full two seconds to process who it was. I was usually the one who picked out all of Joey’s clothes. He always wore perfectly ironed button-downs and tailored slacks, looking every bit the reliable, professional doctor. But right now, he was wearing a cream-colored oversized hoodie. The boyish, collegiate outfit completely stripped away his usual mature aura. Joey checked his watch. When he looked back up at me, his eyes did not hold the warmth of a man seeing his long-distance girlfriend. Instead, he looked at me like I was just another patient taking up his time in the waiting room. “I have a shift at the hospital this afternoon. I don’t have time to entertain you.” “Next time you decide to fly out, give me a heads up…” I cut him off immediately. “Who said I came here to see you? You’re overthinking things. I don’t have time for you either.” Joey froze. “But you’re always the one counting down the days until we see each other.” That was the old me. The old me would have rushed out of the airport on a four-hour layover just to grab a twenty-minute coffee with him. The old me would work five days of brutal overtime to finish a project early, all to match his single day off. But now, if we hadn’t accidentally crossed paths, he never would have known I was in his city. “There is no need to throw a tantrum. Dr. Wright is incredibly busy and exhausted every single day.” The girl standing next to Joey suddenly spoke up. Her name was Sophie. “It is bad enough that you are not being understanding, but showing up unannounced like this? Now Dr. Wright is going to feel obligated to waste his precious resting time on you.” I stared at Sophie’s incredibly self-righteous expression. She was also wearing an oversized hoodie. Matched with Joey’s, it looked sickeningly like a couples outfit. Not far away, a clothing store had a massive red banner proudly advertising a “Couples 50% Off” sale. A cold smirk crept onto my face. “You don’t have time to see me, but you have plenty of time to go shopping with her?” Sophie lifted her chin slightly, her face the picture of moral superiority. “Please do not misunderstand, Sienna! Dr. Wright usually dresses far too strictly, which makes the patients nervous. I simply suggested he wear something softer, so I accompanied him to pick out a few items.” “I happened to like this hoodie too, and the store had a couples discount. I only agreed to it to save some money.” “I am not like you. You come from money and never have to look at price tags. I do not have a wealthy family backing me. I have to stretch every single dollar. You really do not need to be so insecure and suspicious.” I actually laughed out loud. “What he wears is none of your business. Are you his girlfriend or his mother?” “Saving money by using someone else’s boyfriend. You really know how to play the system, don’t you?” Sophie’s face flushed bright red. “You…” Joey tightened his grip on my hand, his tone softening as he tried to pacify me. “I didn’t make time for you, so you have every right to be angry with me. But taking it out on someone else is out of line. She was just trying to be frugal.” “How about this. I will call in a favor, take the afternoon off, and spend it with you. Okay?” Suddenly, the entire situation just felt incredibly pathetic. I yanked my hand out of his grip. “I am busy! I already told you I didn’t come here for you. Are you incapable of understanding basic English?” This time, Joey was left completely speechless. 2 This was the fourth year of our long-distance relationship. And it had been brutal. I flew from New York to Seattle every single month to see him. That was only twelve visits a year. To bridge the gap, we promised to video call every single night. Even if we were dead on our feet, we had to say goodnight before hanging up. I couldn’t quite pinpoint when it started. But gradually, Sophie’s name began dominating our nightly calls. “The new nurse assigned to me is so clumsy. She missed the vein three times during a blood draw today.” “She has a really kind heart, though. She sneaks cafeteria food out to feed the stray cats in the alley.” “I overheard the chief mentioning that she comes from a really tough background. She took out massive loans for nursing school, just like I did for med school. But she wasn’t as lucky as me. My greatest luck was meeting you in college.” I never took it seriously. I just assumed she was a quirky subordinate. Then, a month ago, Joey told me he had an out-of-state medical conference and wouldn’t be able to do our goodnight calls. It wasn’t until a mutual friend from his hospital called me to say Joey had been admitted for a severe stomach ulcer that I found out the truth. His “medical conference” was in my city. New York. He wasn’t planning a romantic surprise. He genuinely just hadn’t planned on telling me he was in town. “I was just too busy, and it slipped my mind. I was only going to be there for two days anyway. There was no point in making a huge fuss and dragging you out.” To him, seeing me had become a chore. A burden. While I was standing in his hospital room processing that, the thermos of hot soup in my hands was suddenly shoved aside. A woman in scrubs aggressively popped the lid off her own insulated container and glared at me. “Dr. Wright was admitted for a severe stomach ulcer! He cannot eat heavy, greasy food!” She fluttered around his bed, adjusting his pillows and pouring his water. She looked exactly like the lady of the house. She threw the apple I had carefully peeled for him straight into the trash, claiming I hadn’t washed my hands using the proper clinical seven-step method, so it was contaminated. When I stared at his IV drip rate, she scoffed, telling me I was a clueless outsider and ordering me to stay out of the way. I stepped out to use the restroom for exactly three minutes. When I came back, the two of them were laughing together, completely immersed in their own world. Knowing I had absolutely no interest in the medical field, Joey cleared his throat and offered a weak explanation. “We were just talking about work.” But Sophie just had to add her own little jab. “Even if we explained it to you, you wouldn’t understand a word.” A ball of fire twisted in my gut. I looked straight at Joey. “Since when do you hire nurses with this kind of attitude? Fire her.” Sophie froze, then puffed out her chest. “I am a registered nurse with a degree from a proper medical program. I am not some cheap caretaker you can just dismiss!” That was when I realized this was Sophie. Clearly, she had crossed the line. And Joey had completely enabled her. Infidelity and emotional wandering are the oldest clichés in long-distance relationships. I used to arrogantly believe we were the exception. I thought we were immune to a bad ending. If I had been harboring any foolish hopes before, pretending I was just being overly sensitive, the whole “fake couples hoodie” incident completely shattered that illusion. … I bought Brooke a gift at the mall and picked up the custom-tailored suit I had ordered weeks ago. After a quick lunch with Brooke, I dove straight back into my work. Between working endless overtime and getting caught in a freezing Seattle downpour, I ended up with a raging fever and landed myself right back in the hospital. Talk about terrible luck. The nurse assigned to draw my blood was Sophie. She tied the tourniquet around my arm with entirely too much force. She jabbed the needle in three separate times, failing to find the vein every single time. Horrific, dark purple bruises bloomed across my pale skin. I lost my patience. “I want a different nurse.” Sophie didn’t look remorseful in the slightest. Her tone was completely justified. “You do not own this hospital. Medical resources are strictly limited, and there are other patients waiting. Please stop wasting my time.” I laughed out of sheer anger. “Your technique is garbage. I have every right to request a competent nurse.” Sophie lifted her chin, her face a mask of pure stubbornness. “Please do not insult my professional abilities. You kept squirming. Of course I couldn’t get the needle in.” I didn’t waste another breath on her. I simply pressed the call button for the attending doctor. The person who rushed through the door was Joey. 3 “You’re sick? Why didn’t you tell me?” The color completely drained from Joey’s face the second he saw me. He practically sprinted to my bedside. His fingers gently supported my bruised arm, his voice thick with undeniable heartache. “How did it get this bad? Why didn’t you call me?” I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Your nurse has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, and then she blames the patient for her own incompetence. Is this the standard of care at your hospital? Tell her to expect a formal complaint.” Sophie’s eyes instantly welled with tears. She bit her lip hard. “Sienna, I know you despise me. You are a wealthy, privileged girl. You could never possibly understand my struggles.” “The hospital is voting for the ‘Nurse of the Year’ award right now, and this is incredibly important to me. I am entirely alone in this city. I have no one to rely on. I have to earn every single penny with my own blood and sweat. Every path I take, I have to carve out myself…” I cut her off, thoroughly exhausted. “What does any of your sob story have to do with me?” Joey instructed another nurse to bring an ice pack and some warm towels. He carefully began treating my bruised arm. But the words coming out of his mouth chilled me straight to the bone. “The bruising looks worse than it is. It will fade in a week, and it definitely won’t scar.” “Her technique is actually perfectly fine. She was probably just nervous today. If you file a formal complaint, all her hard work for the year will be completely ruined.” “It really isn’t easy for a young girl to survive alone in a big city. Just let this go. Be good for me.” Sophie reached up and wiped away a tear. She tilted her chin up slightly, looking exactly like a martyr who had finally received divine justice. In the past, if I got a tiny papercut, Joey would hover over me in distress for half an hour. He would meticulously apply a bandage while cursing the paper for being too sharp. But now, he was pouring all his empathy onto the person who had actually hurt me. I curled my fingers into tight fists. My chest felt like it was packed with wet cement, but my voice came out ice-cold. “Call your department head. I am filing a formal complaint against both of you.” Sophie’s face hardened with righteous fury. “I take full responsibility for my own actions. Do not drag Dr. Wright into this! Even if you are his girlfriend, you have no right to bully people like this!” She threw her hands up dramatically. Her arm caught the open bottle of iodine on the medical cart. The dark brown liquid splashed directly onto the eight-thousand-dollar custom suit resting on the edge of the bed. Silence blanketed the messy room. I looked at the ruined fabric and spoke slowly. “That was my outfit for a major client meeting. You just destroyed it.” Sophie froze for a split second before stiffening her neck defiantly. “If you hadn’t been intentionally making things difficult for me and Dr. Wright, I never would have panicked and knocked it over. When you really think about it, this is your own fault.” I calmly picked up my phone. “You can explain that logic to the police.” “Wait!” Sophie looked away, her tone dripping with a bizarre, condescending kind of forgiveness. “At the end of the day, you are the one in the wrong, and you know it. But you are using my livelihood to threaten me. I do not have your money or your power, so I have to swallow this injustice.” “It is just a piece of clothing. I will pay you back. How much is it?” I leaned back against the pillows, watching her with a perfectly calm expression. I enunciated every single syllable. “Eight thousand dollars.” Sophie’s righteous indignation shattered instantly. Total panic washed over her features, her voice pitching into a shrill shriek. “That is impossible!” “How could a piece of fabric cost that much! Who are you trying to scam!” “You rich people are all exactly the same. You just use your money to crush normal people…” I cut her off smoothly. “Are you paying, or am I calling the cops?” 4 Sophie ran out of the room sobbing hysterically. Joey didn’t chase after her. He just stood there, looking at me like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. I ignored him entirely. I got out of bed, walked straight to the nursing station, and officially filed my complaint. That evening, Joey insisted on taking me out to dinner. He fell back into his usual routine, asking about my life in his gentle, soothing voice. “How have you been lately?” “Fine.” “What have you been busy with?” “Just work.” Joey paused, a forced smile touching his lips. “Why didn’t you tell me you cut your hair? If I hadn’t seen Brooke’s post, I would have had no idea.” “And you don’t even text me first anymore. We haven’t done our goodnight calls in weeks.” “I’ve been busy. I don’t have the time.” Three short sentences, and the conversation was completely dead. During our old visits, I always had an endless supply of things to tell him. From how much I despised the new director at my company, to a cute stray cat I saw on the sidewalk. I would take the most trivial, mundane details of my life and spin them into hour-long stories. I used to wish I could pour a whole month’s worth of unspoken words into his lap the second I saw him. Now, I just stared at my plate and ate in silence. Four years of a long-distance relationship. We went from messaging each other the second we opened our eyes, to barely speaking ten sentences a month. We went from telling each other everything first, to him being the absolute last to know. We went from endless late-night talks, to having absolutely nothing left to say. And it had only taken half a month to unravel. Joey sat in silence for a long time before reaching across the table to grab my hand. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so obsessed with working hard so we can finally end the distance, I completely neglected your feelings.” My parents had always been strictly against me moving across the country for a man. Because of that, Joey had sworn to buy a house and settle down in New York. His own parents were absolutely furious with the decision and completely cut off all financial support. Joey squeezed my fingers. “I’ve been looking into a few high-end private medical centers in New York. A couple of them have already invited me for final interviews. Once my job is secured, we can start house hunting. Which means…” He tried to keep his tone casual, but the excitement in his voice spiked. “We won’t have to be long-distance anymore!” I froze. This was the exact future I had dreamed about for years. But now that it was practically sitting in the palm of my hand, it felt like we were standing on completely different planets. “Didn’t you want to get a cat? When we buy a place, we can install a massive cat tree on the balcony wall, and set up a little hammock by the window so they can sunbathe.” “Speaking of cats…” He paused, as if a completely natural thought had just occurred to him. His tone shifted effortlessly. “Sophie really loves cats too. She always sneaks out back to feed the strays behind the clinic. She really is a good person. She just lacks a filter sometimes.” “Eight thousand dollars might just be a jacket to you, but to her, that’s almost a year’s worth of living expenses. She isn’t like you. She doesn’t have a safety net. She hasn’t even finished paying off her nursing school loans. By the time she pays rent, she barely has enough left to eat.” “I know you really dislike her, but she’s had a remarkably hard life. I had to claw my way up from the bottom too, so I understand exactly where she’s coming from.” Word after word. It was all about Sophie. I never imagined the day would come when the man I loved couldn’t speak three sentences without bringing up another woman. I put down my fork. “You know I despise her, yet you keep bringing her up. What exactly is your endgame here?” Joey pressed his lips together in a helpless, indulgent smile. “You’ve always had a bit of a temper. I spoiled you, and I gladly take the brunt of it. That is my job as your boyfriend. But you can’t aim that temper at innocent bystanders, right?” “Drop the formal complaint. She’ll get the suit professionally dry-cleaned and return it to you. Then, you can just offer her a quick apology.” Every single time he defended her, he chipped away another piece of my love for him. So when I heard those words, I didn’t feel heartbroken. I only felt a cold, lingering anger. I looked at him calmly. “She made a massive professional error. I have absolutely no obligation to tolerate it.” “I only asked her to pay for the suit. I didn’t demand compensation for my ruined client meeting or my emotional distress. That is already me being incredibly generous.” “Besides, what does her ‘hard life’ have to do with me? Does having a tough background suddenly act as a get-out-of-jail-free card for ruining things? If a surgeon accidentally kills a patient, can they just say ‘my life is hard’ and walk away?” Joey stared at me, completely stunned. It was as if I had morphed into a stranger right in front of his eyes. Unforgiving. Aggressive. Maybe the old me would have backed down to save his pride. I wouldn’t have wanted an outsider to create a rift between us. But the man sitting across from me right now. To me, he was just an outsider too. I locked eyes with Joey and spoke with razor-sharp clarity. “The complaint and the demand for compensation are staying exactly where they are.” “Also. We’re done. I’m breaking up with you.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418531”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

After graduation, my pride got the better of me. I lied to my college classmates, telling them I was heading overseas for my master’s degree. In reality, I slunk back to my dead-end hometown, working a soul-crushing job that barely paid minimum wage. Two years later, my absolute ride-or-die best friend called me out of the blue. She asked if I still remembered Arthur Sinclair. Then she dropped the bomb. Arthur Sinclair was actively searching for a body double of his college crush. The compensation? One hundred thousand dollars a month. A cool million if you signed on for a year. I froze right there in my cubicle. Since when did the universe hand out free money like this? 1 Back in college, I was the ultimate fake-it-till-you-make-it queen. For four solid years, I put on an Oscar-worthy performance. On the surface, I was a delicate, sheltered trust-fund baby with an impeccable aesthetic. Behind closed doors, I was surviving on a hundred bucks a month. The only reason I pulled off the rich-girl illusion was because of my best friend, Harper. She had a walk-in closet bigger than my entire childhood home. Not only was it stuffed with every designer label imaginable, but she let me borrow whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. One act of kindness from her bought my absolute loyalty for life. It was worth it. Completely worth it. Originally, Harper and I planned to open a boutique creative agency in New York after graduation. She would be the angel investor, and I would handle the creative tech. But life loves a cruel plot twist. My mom got into a horrific car accident back in Ohio. A drunk driver left her in a persistent vegetative state. The settlement money barely covered the ICU bills, let alone a private, full-time caretaker. My biological father, who had started a new family years ago, showed up at the hospital just long enough to hear the prognosis. He shoved fifty bucks into my hands and told me to never contact him again. Harper cried on the phone, offering to wire me the money for a top-tier nurse so I could still move to New York and start the business with her. As much as I loved keeping up appearances, I knew I couldn’t drain my best friend’s bank account. After agonizing over it for days, I gave up my glittering future, packed my bags, and went back to Ohio to take care of my family. By day, I worked an entry-level clerical job for a miserable salary. By night, I relieved my grandmother at the hospital, sitting by my mom’s bedside. Meanwhile, my college group chats were constantly buzzing. People kept tagging me, asking why I missed the alumni dinners. When you step out into the real world, you get to write your own narrative. My pride was a fragile, stubborn thing. I literally set five different alarms in the middle of the night just to post aesthetic photos and reply to messages, creating the perfect illusion that I was living my best life in Paris. And incredibly, it worked. They bought it completely, begging me to bring back authentic French pastries and luxury perfumes. Some asked about my program, while others gossiped, dying to know if I was dating a gorgeous European model. The questions got so ridiculous that I finally had to mute the chat and go ghost. I couldn’t risk my carefully constructed bubble bursting. 2 Sometimes, karma comes for those who fake it. During rush hour the very next day, I was packed into the subway like a sardine. By the time I stepped off the train, my phone was gone. Pickpocketed. For someone already drowning in medical bills, this was a devastating blow. Scraping together what little cash I had, I bought the cheapest, bulkiest burner phone I could find. A literal brick. I only gave the new number to Harper. We kept in close touch, and she would occasionally fly out to Ohio just to grab drinks and check on me. She asked if I wanted her to add my new number back into the alumni group chats. I thought about it and declined. Covering up one lie requires a dozen more. It was easier to just use the stolen phone as an excuse to fade into the background. Two years went by just like that. Then, on a slow Tuesday afternoon while I was slacking off at my desk, Harper called. “Stella! Massive news!” Her voice was so loud it leaked through the speaker, catching the attention of my miserable micromanager, who immediately glared at me and started walking over to confiscate my phone. I ducked behind my monitor, covering my mouth. “What is it, Harp? I’m literally at work.” Harper sounded like she had drank five espressos. “Do you still remember Arthur Sinclair?” I searched my memory. It rang a bell, but just barely. I only remembered him as the heir to one of the wealthiest real estate empires on the East Coast. A guy with more money than God. Harper’s next words made me accidentally shriek. “He is literally searching for your body double! One hundred thousand dollars a month! A million a year!” “He’s doing what?” I bolted upright, making direct eye contact with my furious manager. “I’m dead serious,” Harper swore. “He put the word out himself. Half the girls in the city are trying to make themselves look like you right now just to get a piece of that payout!” “I swear to God, I don’t understand it. Why is he looking for your clone? And why is he dropping that kind of insane cash?” Harper kept rambling, but the audio completely faded out. The only thing echoing in my brain was: One hundred thousand a month. A million a year. I hadn’t even secured the bag yet, but I was already planning how to spend it. Step one: fire my boss. My manager was standing right in front of my desk, hands on her hips, screeching about company phone policies. I gave her a look that was seventy percent absolute ice, twenty percent pure disdain, and ten percent pity. I grabbed the massive stack of unfinished paperwork on my desk and slammed it right against her chest. “I am absolutely done with this twelve-dollar-an-hour nightmare. Find some other corporate slave to torture!” “Goodbye and good riddance!” Basking in the awe-struck stares of my miserable coworkers, I strutted out the door. I even grabbed the little potted money tree from the reception desk on my way out. A company that refuses to offer a 401k doesn’t deserve good feng shui anyway! 3 Riding the high of finally quitting, I rushed straight to the hospital to process my mom’s transfer paperwork. I was moving my mom and my grandmother to New York. First, it would be easier to take care of them. Second, the medical facilities in the city were world-class. With top-tier neurological rehab, there might actually be a miracle. It took a full week to get my mom safely settled into a private room at one of Manhattan’s premier hospitals. I paid for an upgraded suite so my grandmother had a comfortable place to rest, and rented a tiny, closet-sized studio apartment nearby for myself. By the time all the logistics were sorted, my savings and the remainder of the settlement money were completely wiped out. I stared at the three-digit balance in my checking account. My fingers acted on their own, dialing Harper’s number. “Harp, I’m in the City. Where exactly do I go to audition for this body double gig?” Harper texted me a sprawling estate address and a private phone number, telling me to call it when I arrived. I checked the time. It was still early. I dug through my duffel bag and pulled out my designated “interview blazer.” When I sat down in front of a cheap two-dollar mirror to do my makeup, reality hit me. I hadn’t bought a single new beauty product in two years. I was no longer the delicate, glowing college girl. I was an exhausted corporate drone beaten down by two years of late nights and cheap ramen. I hesitated. Eventually, I walked into a Sephora and used the tester products to do a full face of free makeup. To hide the dark circles and my exhausted complexion, I had to layer on a ridiculous amount of foundation. I barely looked seventy percent like my old self. But the commute was brutal. The bus felt like a rolling sauna, and the air conditioning was practically non-existent because an older passenger insisted on keeping the windows open. My carefully applied makeup completely melted off in the heat. My eyeliner smudged into massive raccoon circles, making me look like a sleep-deprived goth. When I stepped off the bus and checked my reflection in a storefront window, I nearly passed out from pure anger. But victory was right in front of me. I wasn’t about to give up now. Gritting my teeth, I pulled a wet wipe from my purse and scrubbed my face completely clean. I was naturally gorgeous anyway. Auditioning to play myself? Piece of cake. 4 I confidently pedaled a rented Citi Bike right up to the gates of an ultra-exclusive billionaire’s row. The moment I clicked the bike lock, a security guard marched over to chase me away. “What do you think you’re doing? If you don’t have an invitation, take this piece of junk and get lost!” Excuse me? The absolute disrespect! My inner diva flared to life. I gave the guard a withering side-eye and elegantly pulled my device out of my pocket. My Nokia brick phone. I dialed the number Harper gave me. “Hello. I’m here for the body double audition. I’m currently standing at the front gates, and your security guard is trying to throw me out. Could you please come out and get me?” A smooth male voice came through the receiver. “You’re here for the audition? Understood. Please wait a moment, I’ll be right out.” I put the phone on speaker and glared at the guard. “Did you hear that? Consider that my invitation.” “Try to chase me away one more time. I dare you. I will personally ensure the homeowner gets you fired!” The guard snapped his mouth shut, gave me a wary look, and retreated to his little booth. I waited by the gate for a few minutes. A sleek, midnight-black Bentley rolled out of the estate. Assuming it was one of the rich residents leaving for the day, I took a step back to let it pass. Instead, the luxury car stopped perfectly in front of me. The window rolled down. The driver was a devastatingly handsome man in casual designer clothes. His voice matched the one on the phone perfectly. “May I ask your name?” “Hi, my last name is Bennett.” “Alright, Miss Bennett. Please get in. I’ll take you inside.” 5 First came the shock of being chauffeured in a Bentley. Then came the sheer, overwhelming shock of walking into a penthouse mansion that had to be at least six thousand square feet. I knew Arthur Sinclair was wealthy. I just didn’t comprehend that he was this wealthy. I admit it, I’m shallow. I love money. If this meant I had to fall in love with Arthur Sinclair, I was absolutely willing to take that bullet. The moment I stepped into the grand living room, I saw over a dozen women sitting on the plush velvet sofas. Their heads snapped toward me in unison. Every single one of them had recreated my signature “effortless” college makeup look. The bizarre, uncanny valley feeling of seeing a room full of almost-me’s made the hair on my arms stand up. But I had to admit, two of them actually looked strikingly similar to me with all that contouring. All the other candidates were dressed in stunning, high-fashion outfits. In contrast, I was standing there in a cheap blazer. I looked less like a romantic body double and more like the new maid. I found a quiet corner on the sofa and sat down. The gorgeous girl next to me immediately pinched her nose and scooted away. “Ugh, what is that cheap perfume…” Was she seriously insulting the hand-stitched magnolia sachet my grandmother made for me? My patience snapped. I stared at her, desperately trying to find a flaw so I could visually destroy her. I looked her up and down. Left and right. To my absolute horror, I realized something. Aside from my actual face, I didn’t have a single thing on her. Is this what pretty privilege felt like? I clicked my tongue and casually touched my slightly dry cheek. “Honestly, girls who look absolutely nothing like Mr. Sinclair’s first love really shouldn’t even bother showing up.” “Unlike me. Even without a ten-step skincare routine, I’m still a solid seventy percent match.” Perfume Girl’s face turned a violent shade of green. She couldn’t refute a single word because I was spitting pure facts. Frustrated, she resorted to cheap emotional damage. “Hmph. Look at how pathetic and broke you are. Even if Mr. Sinclair doesn’t pick me, there is zero chance he’ll ever look twice at a beggar like you.” She made a very valid point. Any normal person would have folded right then and there. But I wasn’t normal. I was a master of faking it. I said I was going to secure Arthur Sinclair’s bank account, and I meant it. Just then, heavy oak doors opened down the hall. A stunning girl walked out, looking utterly defeated. As she walked past us, I caught her muttering to herself. “I was disqualified because I have a mole on my neck? If his standards are this psycho, why doesn’t he just fly overseas and chase the real girl down?” “Next,” a deep, magnetic voice called from inside the room. The handsome guy from the Bentley walked over and asked who wanted to go next. Before I could even open my mouth, Perfume Girl pointed directly at me. “Let her go first. She smells weird, and I’m suffocating out here!” I stood up, completely unbothered. “I smell like Mother Nature. You just smell like desperate capitalism.” With that, I marched into the room, leaving her furious sputtering behind the heavy doors. 6 I turned around with a perfect customer-service smile, locking eyes with a visibly stunned Arthur Sinclair. “Hello, Mr. Sinclair. My name is Ella.” He stared at me, completely mesmerized, not saying a word. It wasn’t until I confidently sat down in the chair across from his mahogany desk that he finally blinked. “You…” Arthur had shed the youthful vibe of his college days. He looked incredibly mature, powerful, and intimidatingly handsome in his bespoke suit. He paused, measuring his words carefully. “You look very much like her.” I nodded enthusiastically, taking the opportunity to flatter myself. “To be compared to your stunning, unforgettable first love is the greatest honor of my life.” Arthur took a slow breath before delivering the killing blow. “However, you only look similar. Your eyes aren’t quite as large as hers, and your nose isn’t as perfectly sloped.” “Furthermore, your skin seems much duller than hers.” Dude, have you never heard of the magic of highlighter and concealer? I swallowed my protests. He was technically insulting me, but also praising the “real” me. It was a bizarre paradox. I honestly didn’t know how to respond. I just maintained my fake corporate smile and looked at him with puppy-dog eyes. “Those are just minor imperfections. I can easily fix all of that with a good makeup artist.” “As long as you hire me, I am willing to learn and adapt to anything you need!” Arthur’s eyes flickered with a strange light. He asked a very direct question. “Why exactly are you applying to be a body double?” What kind of question was that? “For the money, obviously.” Arthur stared deeply into my eyes. I held his gaze without flinching. After a long moment, a faint smile curved his lips. He picked up his sleek phone from the desk. “Understood. Let’s exchange contacts. My team will notify you of the results shortly.” I chirped a bright “Okay!” and pulled my brick phone out of my bag. I mashed the physical buttons a few times before sliding it across the desk. “You’ll have to type your number in. My camera is completely busted, so I can’t scan anything.” Arthur finally got a good look at my ancient Nokia. His expression didn’t change, but he gave me a long, unreadable look. He didn’t say a word. After exchanging numbers, I floated out of the room feeling like a million bucks. Before leaving the waiting area, I blew a dramatic kiss to Perfume Girl. “Good luck in there, sweetie!” 7 The very next day, while sitting in the hospital cafeteria, I got a text from Arthur. He told me I passed the interview and sent an address, demanding I meet him there immediately. I opened the location on my map app. Well then. It was the most exclusive, ultra-luxury designer boutique on Fifth Avenue. Did Arthur think I looked too tragic and decided I needed a complete makeover? Music to my ears. For the first time in years, I splurged. I ordered a premium rideshare and cruised all the way into the city in comfort. It only took twenty minutes to arrive. Arthur was already sitting inside the boutique. I was about to walk in and greet him, but a snobby sales associate immediately blocked the entrance. “I am so sorry, miss. Our boutique does not allow casual browsing or trying on garments without an appointment. Perhaps you would be more comfortable looking at the stores down the block?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, do I look like someone who can’t afford your clothes?” She gave me a strained, patronizing smile. “That is not what I meant—” “You’re absolutely right, I can’t afford a single thing in here,” I interrupted her, pointing straight at Arthur, who was looking up from his phone. “But he can.” The associate froze. She turned around just in time to see Arthur Sinclair nodding in my direction. Her attitude shifted faster than a sports car. A second later, she was beaming radiantly, ushering me inside with royal treatment. I sat down on the velvet sofa across from Arthur. The handsome guy from the Bentley—who I learned was his assistant, Noah—pulled two items out of a leather briefcase and placed them on the glass coffee table. “This is your employment contract, Miss Bennett. Please review the terms. If everything is acceptable, you may sign at the bottom.” I flipped through the pages. My hand actually started to shake. Arthur Sinclair was the patron saint of capitalism. Forget the $100,000 monthly salary—this man was offering a full 401k match, premium dental, and platinum-tier health insurance! I suddenly felt intensely grateful that two years ago, after my father’s betrayal, I had legally changed my last name to my mother’s maiden name. If I was still walking around as Stella Wright, I wouldn’t have dared accept this kind of corporate package from him. Tears of pure joy pricked my eyes as I signed the last page: Ella Bennett. 8 Aside from the contract, Noah also handed me a sealed box containing the newest, most expensive smartphone on the market. The boutique’s AC was blasting, but the sleek phone box felt burning hot in my hands. To show my immediate gratitude to my new billionaire boss, I unboxed it right in front of him, saved his number, and set his contact name to “The Boss.” He caught a glimpse of the screen and immediately frowned. “Isn’t ‘The Boss’ a little too corporate?” Fair point. I tested the waters. “Well, what did your unforgettable first love save your name as?” Honestly, I didn’t expect him to have an answer. Because as the actual girl in question, I had never even added his number in college, let alone given him a cute nickname. Or maybe I did add him, but completely ignored his existence. Either way, no memory of it. To my absolute shock, not only did he answer me, but the tips of his ears turned slightly red. “Arthur.” “Her friends told me she had my name saved simply as ‘Arthur’, with a red heart.” Wait, seriously? If Harper was the one feeding him this information, I could perfectly picture her getting annoyed by his questions and just making up the most cliché romantic garbage to get him to leave her alone. Poor, naive CEO. Completely manipulated. I typed out “Arthur <3" and showed him the screen. Arthur looked incredibly pleased. He handed me a sleek, heavy black card and told me to swipe it on whatever I wanted. Before leaving the boutique to head back to the office, he gave Noah a set of instructions. "After she finishes shopping, drive her back to the estate." "You got it!" I chirped. Wait, hold on. "The estate?" 9 By the time we left the shopping district, Noah's arms were overflowing with luxury shopping bags. Before heading to the mansion, I asked Noah to make a quick detour to the hospital. During the ride, I awkwardly asked to borrow a little cash from him, promising to pay him back the second my first paycheck hit. It was a desperate move, but I had no choice. My grandmother was getting older, and I couldn't leave her alone to handle my mom's intensive care while I was living at Arthur's estate. I needed to hire a professional daytime nurse immediately. Medical care in New York was astronomically expensive, and my pathetic three-digit bank account was laughable. As for why I didn't just swipe Arthur's black card? I wanted to, but I'm pretty sure freelance nurses don't carry point-of-sale card readers in their scrubs. Thankfully, Noah was incredibly understanding. Without asking a single question, he wired me six thousand dollars on the spot. It was exactly enough to cover the nurse until payday. I quickly sorted out the hospital logistics. By the time we finally pulled up to the sprawling Sinclair estate, the sky was painted in brilliant shades of sunset orange. Arthur wasn't home. Noah explained that he was still tied up with meetings at the corporate headquarters. I couldn't help my curiosity. "Does he work this late every day?" Noah set the mountain of shopping bags down in the foyer and smiled faintly. "Pretty much. He usually has dinner out with clients before heading back." "But don't worry, Miss Bennett. No matter how late he works, Mr. Sinclair always comes home." That sounded a bit odd, but before I could analyze it, Noah handed me a heavy, metallic keycard. "This grants you full access to the gates and the front doors. If you don't need anything else, I'll be heading out." 10 After seeing Noah out, I gave myself a grand tour of the mansion. The interior was minimalist, breathtakingly expensive, and entirely devoid of warm colors. It matched Arthur's intimidating aura perfectly. I didn't just sit around. I got to work. Since I didn't know the specific rules of being a body double, I assumed I needed to stay in full "college crush" character until he went to sleep. I carefully applied my signature "effortless" makeup look and sat gracefully on the living room sofa, waiting for him. I figured he'd be late, but I didn't realize he'd be this late. The grandfather clock chimed midnight before I finally heard the electronic lock click open. I snapped out of my doze, looking toward the entryway with sleepy eyes. The moment Arthur saw me sitting there, pure shock flashed across his face. But he quickly masked it with calm indifference. He shrugged off his tailored suit jacket, draping it over a chair, and loosened his silk tie as he walked toward me. The sofa dipped beside me. Arthur sat down, his voice smooth. "Why are you still awake?" "I was waiting for you to come home." I brushed my messy hair out of my face, desperately fighting back a massive yawn. Arthur's fingers paused on his cufflink. "If you're tired, you don't have to wait up for me." I nodded, letting out a soft hum of agreement. Just as I was about to retreat to my assigned guest room to wash off my makeup and pass out, my stomach let out a violent, echoing growl. In the dead silence of the massive living room, it sounded like a dying whale. My traitorous stomach... Making me absolutely humiliate myself on day one of the job. My ears burned. I tried to casually stand up and sprint out of the room, pretending nothing happened. But Arthur stopped me. "I'm a little hungry myself. Care to join me?" Join him? Eating what? Five minutes later, I was sitting awkwardly at the massive marble kitchen island, staring at the back of Arthur Sinclair—billionaire CEO—as he expertly worked the stove. I tried to jump in and take over the cooking multiple times. But Arthur just waved me off. "No need. Just sit there." I obediently sat back down and waited. Who would have thought a man worth billions would have such a domestic, grounded side? He carried over two steaming bowls of artisanal noodles topped with fresh scallions. He sat down, leaving a full empty seat between us. Wasn't this distance a bit too professional? If I didn't bridge the gap, how was I going to survive my one-month probation period? Determined, I picked up my heavy ceramic bowl and boldly slid into the seat directly next to him. Arthur's chopsticks paused mid-air. He looked over at me. "What's wrong? Is the food not to your liking?" I shook my head, lowering my eyes in a display of perfect, manufactured shyness. "No, I just wanted to be a little closer to you." "Besides, hot noodles taste better when you eat them right next to someone." I blew gently on the steam, channeling my most elegant college-girl table manners as I took tiny, delicate bites. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Arthur staring at me intently. After a long moment, he looked back down at his bowl, the faintest trace of a smile pulling at his lips. "Yes. They do."

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1 I was a Special Ops Commander’s secret girlfriend for seven years. My mother, worried, had urged me to move on—this was her 99th try. She mentioned a former classmate asking about me, suggesting it was time to consider someone else. Gideon and I were to attend a military reunion the next day. I promised her I’d give him one last chance: if he still wouldn’t acknowledge us, I’d leave. At the reunion, a game called Blind Fate had single men blindly choose a woman’s hand from behind a curtain. When it was Gideon’s turn, I offered my left hand—the one with a jagged scar from taking a bullet for him years ago. He’d once vowed he’d always recognize my touch. But when the curtain lifted, he was holding Audrey’s hand—the academy’s former crush. The room cheered, calling it fate. Audrey blushed; Gideon smirked and didn’t pull away. I just looked at my scar. His promise lasted far less than a lifetime. … The room was heavy with single men and short on single women. After the game ended, a few couples were jokingly paired off, leaving a handful of us sitting alone. I was one of them. Jason, our old class monitor, finally noticed me sitting quietly by the wall. He raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise. “Sienna, you’re really still on the market? Hard to believe.” I ignored the sharp, warning look Gideon shot my way. I just smiled and shook my head. “I’m not single.” The loud chatter in the room died for a split second. Gideon’s hand froze halfway to his glass. For a fleeting moment, his eyes went completely blank. Right on cue, my phone buzzed against the table. I did not even need to look at the screen to know who it was. Over the last seven years, the only time he ever texted me with that kind of desperate urgency was when he was terrified I might speak out of turn. I kept my head up. I did not touch the phone. “Oh damn, since when?” Blake, our old sports captain, leaned in with a grin. “Who’s the lucky guy? You just played a singles game while secretly taken. You’re sneaky, Sienna.” I met Blake’s gossipy stare. “He’s a great guy. Steady. He treats me really well.” “How’d you guys meet?” Blake pushed, clearly invested. “You never post him on social media. You haven’t breathed a word about him.” Before I could answer, a soft cough echoed from across the table. Gideon picked up his whiskey glass, his tone dripping with casual annoyance. “Blake, are you running a background check? If she doesn’t want to talk about it, drop it.” Blake rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “Alright, alright, my bad. Let’s drink.” Gideon threw his head back and drained his glass in one fluid motion. I picked up my teacup and took a slow sip. The tea had gone completely cold, making the bitter taste cling to the back of my throat. The spotlight quickly shifted off me and landed squarely on Gideon. Blake’s booming voice carried over the music. “Speaking of relationship statuses, Gideon is the one we should be interrogating. What’s the deal with our most eligible bachelor?” “Exactly!” someone chimed in. “Back at the academy, the line of girls chasing you stretched from the dorms to the main gates. How are you still flying solo?” Gideon leaned back in his chair. That familiar, careless smile rested on his lips. He stayed silent. Blake dragged out his words, his eyes darting back and forth between Gideon and Audrey. “Unless there’s someone who’s always owned your heart, making everyone else look invisible?” Audrey dropped her gaze, the tips of her ears burning a bright crimson. The room exploded into laughter and catcalls. “Holy shit, Blake, just say her name already!” “Like it’s a secret? We all remember how it was back then.” “Man, that blindfold game tonight really sealed the deal.” The cheering grew louder, crashing over the table in waves. Audrey’s face flushed deeper. She playfully shoved the guy sitting next to her, murmuring for them to stop talking nonsense. Gideon neither confirmed nor denied it. The smile on his lips simply deepened. After seven years in the shadows, I knew how to read every micro-expression on his face. I knew exactly what that smile meant. It meant he didn’t hate the rumors. It meant he welcomed their teasing. It meant Audrey’s blushing ears fed his ego perfectly. The coldness from my teacup seeped through my skin, traveling straight up my arm and settling in my chest until my fingertips went entirely numb. “Come on, Gideon, say something!” someone urged. Gideon finally spoke, his voice wrapped in a lazy drawl. “What do you want me to say?” “Tell us if it’s true!” 2 He let out a low chuckle and placed his empty glass on the table. “What answer are you guys fishing for?” That vague response sparked more wild imaginations than a straight confession ever could. The private room turned into a chaotic celebration. Audrey pressed her lips together to hide a smile, her eyes sparkling like they caught the light. I used to have that same light in my eyes. But I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it started to fade. It just dimmed, day by day, until I ended up here. Standing in the middle of a crowded room like an absolute outsider, listening to old friends cheer for the man I loved and the woman he actually wanted. “Alright, alright, let’s calm down,” Jason intervened with perfect timing. “Stop putting the poor girl on the spot. Everyone, raise your glasses!” The clinking of glass rang out around the table. I lifted my cold tea along with them. Audrey choked a little on her cocktail, coughing until her face flushed. Gideon’s head snapped toward her immediately. Without missing a beat, he took her drink away, replaced it with a glass of warm honey water, and pulled a napkin from the dispenser to hand to her. I stared down at the soggy tea leaves resting at the bottom of my cup. This group got together once a year. Every year it was the same routine. The seating arrangements shifted, the gossip evolved, but one thing remained utterly unchanged for seven years. Gideon never once put food on my plate, poured my water, or even called me by my full first name in front of them. He always said he needed to maintain boundaries. He claimed the military rumor mill was vicious, that dating a fellow officer could complicate his promotion, that people would talk, that there were endless rules to navigate. I believed him. I waited. I waited for seven long years. I waited until I was completely used to sitting three chairs away from him. I got used to him walking past me without breaking his stride. I perfected the role of the polite, distant former classmate. It wasn’t until tonight, when Audrey finally returned from her overseas peacekeeping tour and walked into this room, that the truth hit me. The woman he desperately wanted to show off to the world was never me. I unlocked my phone. The screen lit up with the two glaring words he had just sent me: [Drop it.] I stared at those words until my eyes burned. My fingers unconsciously traced the scar on my wrist. It hadn’t hurt in seven years. But tonight, for some inexplicable reason, it itched terribly. It felt like something was clawing its way out from deep inside my bones, only to rot the second it hit the air. “Hey, speaking of which,” Sarah, our old social secretary, chimed in. “Audrey just got back stateside. We need to find her a man, fast.” “Her parents made it clear. If she doesn’t settle down soon, they’re sending her back overseas for good.” “We can’t let that happen!” Blake shouted. “We’ve got a room full of elite officers. No way we let them ship you out.” Audrey smiled shyly, keeping quiet while the back of her neck turned pink. “Well, the solution is sitting right here.” Blake shot a loaded look at Gideon. The table erupted all over again. “Hell yeah, Gideon, time to step up!” “Don’t make the lady wait any longer, man.” “Match made in heaven!” People nudged Audrey, practically pushing her into Gideon’s space. She didn’t say a word, but she didn’t pull away either. Gideon just sat there, wearing that unreadable smirk. He didn’t say a word. But his silence was all the answer anyone needed. A sudden thought crossed my mind. I opened the chat with my mother and finally gave her the answer she had been begging for. [Okay. I’m fine with the wedding date. I’ve already filed my marriage paperwork with base admin.] The second I put my phone facedown, Harper leaned across the table toward me. “Wedding date? Paperwork? Sienna, are you getting married?” 3 Her voice wasn’t particularly loud, but she asked right as the cheering for Gideon died down. Half a dozen pairs of eyes snapped toward me. I smiled, offering no denials. “Yeah. I’m not getting any younger. My parents picked out a date.” “Holy shit!” Blake was the first to lose his mind. “We literally just found out you were dating someone, and you’re skipping straight to the altar?” “Who is this mystery guy? Is it someone from the academy?” “When’s the reception?” The questions pelted me from all sides. I was just about to laugh it off and give a vague answer when Audrey suddenly spoke up. “Oh, stop crowding her, you’re going to make her uncomfortable,” Audrey said sweetly. “But if a date is set, you guys must have been together for a really long time, right, Sienna?” That question sucked the air out of the room. Every eye was locked on me. I let my lips curve up into a small smile. “We’ve known each other a month. He’s a good man. Steady. He’s an officer, too.” That dropped like a bomb. It hit so hard that the silent figure sitting diagonally across from me instantly stiffened, his spine snapping straight. “Wait, Sienna, are you serious?” “With your looks and credentials, you don’t need to do a one-month flash marriage!” “It’s not a flash marriage,” I replied, my voice perfectly level as I took another sip of my cold tea. “When you meet the right person and your values align, a month is plenty of time.” Gideon remained frozen in that rigid posture. Over the years, I had dropped countless hints that I wanted a family, that I wanted to be his actual partner in the light of day. Just a month ago, I had practically begged for his birth details so my mom could take our charts to an astrologer to pick a lucky date. He knew exactly what I was talking about. A layer of frost flickered across his face before melting back into his usual composed mask. He was probably relieved I said one month instead of seven years. “Congratulations,” Audrey said softly, her smile the picture of grace. “When’s the reception?” There was no dodging it now. I didn’t try to. “The end of this month. I hope all of you can make it.” Audrey’s smile grew sweeter. She rested her chin in her hands, looking right at me. “That’s wonderful. Honestly, though, I always thought…” Someone caught the bait. “Thought what?” “I thought,” Audrey giggled, her eyes flicking toward Gideon, “that you were waiting for a certain someone to come around.” “You chased him so hard back in the day, we all assumed you wouldn’t settle for anyone else.” As an awkward silence settled over the table, she quickly added, “But this is great. I’m glad you finally figured things out.” “Hey Gideon,” someone joked, trying to break the tension. “She’s getting married. Aren’t you going to say something?” Gideon leaned back, not even bothering to lift his eyes. “That’s all in the past.” A bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. The past? If only they knew Gideon was the one who chased me first. Because we kept it a secret, everyone assumed all the care and devotion I poured into him was just a desperate, one-sided obsession. He could have easily said, ‘We used to date,’ and cleared my name. Instead, he let them believe my seven years of loyalty were nothing but a pathetic, unrequited joke. “Alright, alright, let’s drink to that!” Jason rallied the table. “Cheers to another one of us leaving the singles club!” Glasses clinked. I spent the next half hour in total peace. I chatted with a few of the girls about their deployments, listened to them complain about their kids, and offered polite nods. Audrey tried a few times to steer the conversation back to my ‘fiancé,’ but I smoothly redirected it every time. When the party finally broke up, people headed for the exit in small groups. “Gideon,” Audrey called out from behind me, her voice laced with timid hesitation. “It’s really late. Could you… give me a ride? The motel I’m at is on the outskirts of town. It’s pretty sketchy.” I was bending down to grab my purse. I didn’t even pause. The chorus of teasing started up immediately. “Ooh, look at that.” “Obviously he’s going to take you!” “Your time to shine, man!” I stood up and walked right past them. In my peripheral vision, I saw Gideon standing beside her. He smiled. “Let’s go.” Clean, decisive, without a fraction of hesitation. I pushed through the heavy doors. The freezing night wind slipped down my collar, carrying the sound of their laughter far into the distance. I stood in the elevator watching the digital numbers tick down. When it hit the number seven, I was dragged back to that sweltering summer seven years ago. He had been a wreck because Audrey was leaving the country. His mind was somewhere else during the raid, and he didn’t see the insurgent sneaking up behind him. I threw myself in front of him on pure instinct. While the medic stitched me up, Gideon held my hand against his face. He kept whispering, “I’ll never lose you in a crowd. This scar is my anchor. I’ll know it for the rest of my life.” A lifetime was painfully short. It was short enough that a stupid party game could make him drop my hand and grab someone else’s. The elevator doors chimed open. I stepped out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was Gideon. [You behaved yourself tonight. But saying you’re getting married at the end of the month is taking the joke too far. We’ll figure out how to do damage control when I get home.] I let out a soft laugh and closed our chat thread. There was no need for damage control anymore. 4 I woke up early the next morning from a shallow, restless sleep just as Gideon unlocked the front door. He paused in the entryway when he saw me sitting on the edge of the bed, folding my clothes. “You’re up early,” he said, shrugging off his jacket as if nothing was wrong. “What’s the occasion? You didn’t blow up my phone last night.” I finally looked up at him. He was right. Whenever he stayed out late before, I would sit by my phone until the early hours of the morning, worried sick. “Why didn’t you reply to my last message?” I asked. He walked over to the water dispenser, keeping his back to me as he filled a glass. He took a sip. “I drove Audrey back. Her motel was in a rough neighborhood. She was scared, so I stayed outside her door for a bit. It got too late to drive back, so I just crashed in the lobby for a few hours.” “I’ve already transferred her to the VIP guest quarters on base,” he added, his tone taking on a placating edge. “Security is tight. She’s safe now.” I smoothed out the crease on my uniform jacket and stayed quiet. There were so many questions I could have asked. When you say you stayed outside her door, did you really stay in the hall, or did you go inside? When you say you crashed for a few hours, was it on a lobby couch, or in her bed? But I didn’t want to ask. For the past seven years, he had been relatively good to me. Even though he kept me a secret, he was strict about maintaining boundaries with other women. I just never wanted to admit that those iron-clad boundaries completely dissolved the second Audrey was involved. If she posted at 2 A.M. about insomnia, he would text her until dawn. If she missed American food overseas, he’d drive out of his way to ship her care packages. On every single birthday, he calculated the time difference to ensure he was the first to text her. He did those things for me as a boyfriend. But he did them for her, too. I had questioned him about it countless times. Every time, he had a hundred logical reasons to shut me down. This time, the reasons didn’t matter anymore. He set his glass down, his eyes finally dropping to the open suitcase on the floor. His brow furrowed. “What are you doing?” “Going back home,” I said calmly, tucking the folded jacket into the luggage. “I’m heading back to stay with my parents before the wedding. It’s tradition.” He froze. Then he crossed the room, crouched down beside me, and clamped his hand over the shirt I was about to pack. “The joke is over, Sienna. Drop it.” I met his gaze head-on. “It’s not a joke.” “The astrologer checked our charts. We’re a perfect match.” I lowered my eyes and pulled the shirt out from under his grip. “If I don’t get married this year, I’ll have to wait two more years for a lucky date.” He stared at me, the casual laziness finally vanishing from his eyes. After a long silence, he spoke. “Two years is fine.” “Once I get through these next two years of deployments, I can give you a much better wedding.” My hands stopped moving. Two years? I remembered him saying the exact same thing two years ago. In his mind, my life was just an endless series of two-year extensions that he could spend however he pleased. “Just drop a message in the group chat later. Tell them you had too much to drink and the wedding talk was bullshit.” His voice softened, slipping into that coaxing tone he used when he wanted his way. “No one took it seriously anyway.” “I wasn’t drinking.” I stood up and zipped the suitcase closed. “Everyone knows I’m allergic to alcohol. I never touch it at reunions.” He blinked, thrown off balance. It was as if he suddenly realized how many basic facts about my life he had completely ignored. I checked my watch. It was time to go. “Are you done throwing a tantrum?” His voice dropped, growing harsh. “Is this because I didn’t claim you in front of everyone? Are you really using a fake marriage to punish me?” I looked at him, about to speak, when he suddenly pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Look, there’s something I haven’t told you. Actually…” Before he could finish, his phone started ringing. He glanced at the screen, walked over to the window, and answered it. The call was brief. He hung up, stood in silence for a few seconds, and then turned back to me. “Audrey is having a panic attack at the guest quarters. I need to go check on her. We’ll finish this when I get back.” He grabbed his jacket and walked out the door. … Three hours later. Gideon’s truck pulled up outside our apartment building. Audrey was sitting in the passenger seat. “I’m so sorry,” she smiled, looking perfectly apologetic. “I’ve been out of the country so long, I just can’t handle sleeping in strange quarters alone. Thanks for letting me crash for a couple of days… It won’t cause any problems, right?” Gideon’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. “No.” He figured he’d just have to explain the situation to Sienna. A few soft words and she’d let it go. She was always reasonable. He pulled out his phone and started typing as they walked to the elevator: [Audrey is going to stay in the spare room for…] He stopped, deleted the text, and put the phone away. It was better to tell her face-to-face. Besides, it was about time everyone knew they were together anyway. He unlocked the front door. The apartment was dead silent. Audrey rolled her suitcase inside, looking around the spacious living room. “Wow, this place is gorgeous. Isn’t it lonely living in such a big place all by yourself?” Gideon trailed behind her, his eyes scanning the living room. His feet carried him automatically toward the master bedroom. He pushed the door open. What he saw made his blood run completely cold.

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When I stepped through the grand double doors of the Kensington estate, I had just watched the judge deny bail to the monsters who raised me. My biological parents paid zero attention to the blood daughter who had been switched at birth. All their energy was laser focused on the fragile, weeping impostor sitting on the velvet sofa. Officer Riley, the cop who drove me to the estate, had noticed my silence in the cruiser. She had patted my shoulder gently. “Don’t worry, Ivy. Blood is thicker than water. Give it time, and your parents will definitely see how wonderful you are.” I just nodded and gave her a perfectly innocent smile. The truth was, I didn’t care if they treated me well or not. I only had one bottom line. Do not mess with me. 1 Matt and Amy Kensington only realized their child had been swapped after seeing my face. I looked exactly like Amy did in her youth. They ordered a DNA test with extreme reluctance. Even with the undeniable proof in their hands, they seemed incapable of accepting that I was their real daughter. The whole family stared at the medical report with heavy expressions. There was no joy. There were no tears of reunion. They were too busy comforting Bella. She buried her face in Amy’s chest, sobbing like her world had ended. “Mom, Dad, I’m not yours. I belong to someone else.” “Are you going to send me away? Are you going to throw me out?” Amy immediately wrapped her arms around the crying girl. “Don’t be silly, sweetheart. You will always be my precious baby. How could we ever throw you away?” Matt was quick to back his wife up. “Bella, we raised you for fifteen years. No one can ever replace that bond.” Even Jim, my biological older brother, leaned in to wipe away her tears. “Stop crying, Bells. I only acknowledge you as my sister. Some stranger popping up out of nowhere can never compare to you.” I stood by the doorway, watching the touching family drama unfold. Whatever tiny, pathetic spark of hope I had harbored on the car ride over completely fizzled out. But I wasn’t sad. For someone who spent her entire life just trying to figure out how to survive the next beating, being ignored was a luxury. The Kensington family was filthy rich. They could definitely afford an extra mouth to feed. As long as I had a warm bed and a full stomach, I was completely satisfied. After the family showered her with a dozen different promises, Bella finally cracked a tearful smile. The suffocating tension in the living room vanished instantly. Jim turned his head and shot me a nasty glare. “Even though we share blood, Bella has been here for fifteen years. You better learn to get along with her. She’s sensitive, so don’t do anything to upset her.” Matt finally shifted his gaze to me. “You’re the older sister now. You need to take good care of her.” Amy kept her arm tight around Bella, offering me a tight, practiced smile. “In my heart, you and Bella are exactly the same.” I didn’t say a word. I just nodded. This arrangement worked perfectly for me. A housekeeper led me upstairs to a guest room. She sneered at me before opening the door. “Miss Bella doesn’t like strangers wandering around the house. If you don’t have business downstairs, stay out of sight.” She rolled her eyes and walked away. I ignored her attitude, stepped inside, and threw myself onto the massive, cloud like mattress. This place was absolute heaven. I woke up a few hours later, lured out of sleep by the smell of roasting meat. The second I opened my bedroom door, Bella’s voice drifted up the sweeping staircase. “My real parents… where are they now?” Officer Riley had made it perfectly clear to them. The abusers who tortured me were currently rotting in a holding cell. Why was she even asking? A heavy silence fell over the living room. After a long pause, Matt’s grim voice echoed upward. “Bella, we didn’t want to burden you with this. Your biological parents… they were involved in some highly illegal activities. They are currently incarcerated.” “Criminals?” Bella’s voice pitched up, trembling with horror. “No… how is that possible? Everyone is going to know I’m the daughter of convicts! What am I going to do?” “Don’t be scared, baby, don’t be scared,” Amy cooed, her voice dripping with heartache. “We are here. We will never let this ruin your reputation.” “But…” Bella hiccuped. “What if she goes outside and tells people? What if she tells everyone she had a hard life? People will connect the dots to my background. Mom, Dad, I’m so scared.” Jim’s voice cut in, laced with impatience. “Then we make Ivy fix it. We make her put out a statement saying her adoptive parents were just strict disciplinarians, and she was just a rebellious kid who misunderstood them. As long as she changes her story and proves it was just normal parenting instead of abuse, you won’t be tied to any criminals.” “That…” Amy hesitated. “Making Ivy deny everything… isn’t that a bit cruel? The poor girl really did suffer a lot.” “Cruel? What’s cruel about it?” Jim snapped. “She gets to live in this mansion and steal your title as the eldest daughter. Isn’t making a tiny sacrifice the least she could do? Are we really going to let Bella carry the stigma of being a criminal’s daughter just to spare Ivy’s feelings?” “But…” Amy still sounded unsure. “We do exactly what Jim suggested,” Matt finalized, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We can just compensate Ivy with money later.” I didn’t expect anything from these people. But hearing those words still ignited a vicious, burning rage in my chest. If they really believed it wasn’t abuse… Then they needed to experience it firsthand. 2 I practically skipped down the stairs, a bright smile plastered on my face. Under their shocked stares, I walked straight up to the dining table, grabbed the porcelain plate of steak in front of Bella, and smashed it onto the hardwood floor. Before anyone could blink, I grabbed a fistful of Bella’s perfectly styled hair and slammed her face down toward the splattered food. “Ivy, are you insane!” Jim was the first to react. He shoved me hard, sending me stumbling backward. Bella let out a bloodcurdling shriek. Covered in gravy and mashed potatoes, she scrambled into Amy’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “This is unacceptable! Absolute madness!” Matt slammed his hand on the table, his face purple with rage. Amy clutched Bella tightly, glaring at me like I was a monster. “Ivy, how could you… how could you do something so barbaric to your sister?” I steadied myself against a chair. I looked at them with wide, terrified eyes, letting my lip tremble with perfect, manufactured grievance. “I… I just wanted to make sure she ate well. Bella’s mom and dad always taught me to eat like this. They said food tastes better off the floor, that it builds character. I was just worried my sister wouldn’t finish her dinner.” “Did I do something wrong?” I let my eyes wander over the ruined floor and the hysterical girl, my face the picture of genuine confusion. “Bella’s parents raised me exactly like this. They used to dump my food on the dirt and watch me eat it like a dog. They told me it was because they loved me. I just wanted to love my sister the exact same way they loved me. After all, if she hadn’t been swapped, she would be receiving all this wonderful love from her real parents right now.” A dead, suffocating silence choked the dining room. Every single one of them knew the truth. That wasn’t love. It was torture. The tight grip Amy had on Bella subconsciously loosened. All the color drained from her face. Jim opened his mouth, but the curses died in his throat. Matt’s facial muscles twitched violently. The inferno of rage in his eyes was instantly extinguished by a bucket of ice water, leaving behind nothing but raw shock. I calmly walked over to Bella. While she stared at me in horror, I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the cheek. “I really love my sister so much.” 3 The slap left Bella completely stunned. Matt finally snapped out of his trance. He stepped forward and delivered a stinging backhand across my face. I was ready for it. I turned my head at the last second, letting the momentum carry me so the blow wouldn’t do any real damage. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. Instead, I let out a bright, bubbling laugh. I pulled out my phone and dialed a number on speaker. “Officer Riley, you were totally right. My family really does love me.” The familiar, warm voice of the female cop echoed through the silent dining room. “I told you they would, Ivy. You’re never going to be alone again.” “Yeah, they love me to death,” I said, grinning widely at the horrified faces around me. “My dad just slapped me right across the face. Beating is a sign of affection, right? Just like you said.” I hung up the phone. The Kensingtons stared at me like I was possessed. “Who were you talking to?” Matt asked, his hand still shaking in the air. I blinked my innocent eyes. “The nice police lady who brought me home. She promised me you guys would love me, and she didn’t lie.” Matt’s chest heaved. He raised his hand again out of pure reflex. I eagerly leaned my face into his palm. “Hit me harder, Dad.” I pointed a finger at Bella. “Her mom always said the harder you hit, the deeper the love.” Matt’s hand froze mid air. He couldn’t bring it down. I frowned, letting my voice drop. “Dad, don’t you love me?” I reached down and yanked the hem of my oversized sweater all the way up. I exposed the canvas of my stomach and ribs. Burn marks from cigarette butts, jagged white scars from kitchen knives, and faded purple bruises mapped out a lifetime of agony. “Look. Her parents loved me so much. These are all marks of their devotion.” Amy began to tremble violently. Matt violently averted his eyes, unable to look. Jim stared at the mangled skin, his arrogant eyes widening in absolute horror. Only Bella looked at the scars with pure, selfish panic. “My poor Ivy… you suffered so much.” Amy choked out a sob and reached out, trying to pull me into a hug. I stepped right up to her and delivered a crisp, ringing slap across her perfectly powdered face. “I didn’t suffer at all, Mom! I have a mother now, and my mother loves me, and I love my mother.” Under Matt’s paralyzed gaze, I turned and gave him a heavy slap of “love” right on the cheek. Naturally, I made sure Jim and Bella got their fair share of affection too. I didn’t leave anyone out. A family should always match. Looking at the symmetrical red handprints blooming across all four of their faces, I nodded in deep satisfaction. “Mom, Dad, Jim, Bella. I really, really love you guys.” 4 The doorbell rang sharply. It was Officer Riley. The second she stepped inside and saw my swollen cheek, her protective instincts flared. She pulled me behind her. “Child abuse is a felony. As her legal guardians…” She trailed off when she finally looked up and saw the blazing red handprints on the faces of the entire Kensington family. Matt forced down his humiliation and quickly summarized the chaos that had just unfolded. Officer Riley listened, her eyes widening. She turned to look at me. I kept my head down, shrinking my shoulders like a terrified child who had just made a terrible mistake. “That’s really what Bella’s parents taught me.” I defended myself in a whisper. “They said hitting is caring, and cursing is loving. They treated me like that every single day.” I pulled up my sweater again, showing the horrific scars. “Look, Officer Riley. This is the proof of their love.” I kept ripping my own wounds open. I needed to do it over and over again. I needed to sear the reality of my torture into their brains. I wanted to see if they still had the guts to look me in the eye and call it “normal parenting.” Officer Riley had seen the scars at the station, but seeing them again made her eyes shine with angry tears. She pulled me into a tight, warm embrace. “Ivy, that is not love. Real love doesn’t leave scars. Everything they taught you was a sick lie. Promise me you won’t hit people anymore, okay?” I kept my head down, nervously twisting the hem of my shirt. “But Bella’s mom and dad swore it was love. They loved me like that for fifteen years.” “They are animals,” Riley spat without hesitation. “You are going to have a good life from now on. Your real parents are going to teach you what actual love looks like.” Before she left, Riley shot a freezing glare at the Kensingtons. “I will be checking in on Ivy regularly. I do not want to see her hurt ever again.” Once the door clicked shut, the massive house fell into a graveyard silence. Bella shrank back into the sofa, desperately trying to make herself invisible. Matt stared at me for a very long time. His eyes darted between my swollen cheek and the scars peeking out from my collar. Finally, he let out an exhausted sigh. “We will teach her how to behave properly. Take her upstairs to her room. Have the chef bring her dinner on a tray.” 5 For the next three days, the Kensingtons banned me from the dining room. All my meals were brought to my door. Even with me out of sight, Bella still couldn’t handle the reality of my existence. She spent her days weeping and throwing perfectly calculated pity parties. The family exhausted themselves trying to keep her happy. In a desperate bid to finally settle the tension, Matt and Amy knocked on my bedroom door. Amy sat on the edge of my bed, gently stroking my hair. “Ivy, it’s our fault for not finding you sooner. We let you suffer so much.” Her voice choked with emotion, real tears glimmering in her eyes. “Mom promises you, I will never let anyone hurt you ever again.” Matt’s imposing posture softened. He handed me a sleek, velvet jewelry box. “Dad bought this just for you. From now on, whatever you want, I’ll buy it for you.” I clutched the expensive box to my chest and flashed them a sickeningly sweet smile. Seeing my reaction, Amy eagerly pushed forward. “If there’s anything you want to do, just tell us. We will make it happen.” “Really?” My eyes sparkled with innocent hope. “Anything at all?” “Of course,” Matt chuckled, nodding indulgently. “You are our real daughter.” “I want to… go to the same private academy as Jim and Bella.” I watched their expressions carefully. “Can I?” They exchanged a brief, hesitant look. But seeing the desperate expectation in my eyes, they finally nodded. “Alright. We will make the arrangements.” In that exact moment, I was genuinely thrilled. Officer Riley told me that elite academy had an 85% acceptance rate into Ivy League universities. Even though my abusers kept me locked in a dirty basement, I used to scavenge old textbooks from the trash and teach myself in the dark. I used to watch kids walking to school with their backpacks and ache with envy. I never thought I would actually get to be one of them. I knew I wasn’t stupid. I knew I could make it into that 85%. As long as I got into a top college, I wouldn’t need a single cent from the Kensingtons. I could survive entirely on my own. “Thank you, Mom. Thank you, Dad,” I said, pouring real gratitude into my voice. Seeing my guard completely lowered, Amy exchanged another loaded glance with Matt. Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Ivy, actually… there’s something else we need to discuss with you.” Matt cleared his throat, choosing his words with agonizing care. “It’s about Bella’s biological parents. We know they treated you horribly. But if this goes to trial, and the kids at school find out Bella’s parents are felons, she’ll never be able to show her face in public again.” Amy squeezed my hand, her knuckles turning white. “I know it’s a terrible thing to ask, but could you… sign a formal letter of forgiveness for the court?” So that was it. The gentle strokes, the diamond necklace, the promise of the private school—it was all just bait. Everything they did was designed to protect the fragile reputation of the girl who stole my life. They wanted to protect her so badly they were willing to let the monsters who nearly beat their own flesh and blood to death walk free. I looked up at them and smiled like the perfect, obedient child. “Okay, Mom and Dad. I’ll do whatever you say.” If you want me to let those animals go, let’s see if you can handle the price. 6 Visible relief washed over both of their faces. Amy kissed my forehead. “Our Ivy is such an understanding girl.” As they let out their heavy sighs of relief and walked out of my room, I slipped out of bed and followed them like a shadow. Right as they walked into their massive master suite, I pushed past them and dropped straight to my knees on the imported Persian rug at the foot of their bed. “Ivy, what on earth—” Amy gasped. I looked up at them with wide, dead eyes. “Whenever I asked Bella’s dad for anything, he told me a worthless stray had to earn her keep. Before he would say yes to anything, he made me kneel by his bed all night.” “Dad promised to send me to the academy, so I have to repay Dad the right way.” Matt’s brow furrowed in deep confusion. He didn’t move. I lunged forward and grabbed Matt’s ankle, gripping it tightly with my small hands. “Bella’s dad made me scrub his feet and massage his legs until my fingers bled. He said it relieved his fatigue. He said if I stopped before the sun came up, I wouldn’t get to eat for three days, and he would take back whatever he promised me.” I dragged my hands up his calves, digging my nails in. “Dad, let me massage your legs. Let me earn my tuition. I really want to go to school with Jim and Bella.” “Stop this nonsense!” Matt violently jerked his leg back, his face turning an ashen white. Amy clamped a hand over her mouth, tears spilling over her cheeks. “How… how could they? You were just a child.” I instantly let go of Matt and grabbed Amy’s trembling hands. I forced her palms against my collarbone, right over a cluster of ugly, circular burn scars. “Bella’s mom said I had to learn gratitude. If I cried while I was kneeling, they pressed lit cigarettes into my skin. Have you ever burned Bella to teach her gratitude?” “No… stop talking, please.” Amy tried to yank her hands away, but I locked my fingers over her wrists with terrifying strength. “They said as long as I scrubbed the floors on my bleeding knees and took the burns without screaming, they would treat me well.” I stared up at them, my voice cracking with desperate, manufactured pleading. “I want you to treat me well too! Let me kneel here all night! Punish me if I fall asleep! Please!” “Enough!” Matt roared, his voice cracking with horror. “Ivy, get off the floor!” I flinched dramatically and curled into a tight ball on the rug, my voice dropping to a terrified whisper. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know I was doing it wrong. Whenever I refused to kneel, they locked me in the closet without water. They told me this was how families showed love. If Bella hadn’t been switched, would they have loved her like this too?” “Bella would never—” Matt choked on his own words, looking like he was about to vomit. Amy broke down completely, sobbing hysterically into her hands. Were they crying because of the torture I endured? Or were they crying because they were picturing their precious Bella suffering the same fate? I didn’t care to guess. I offered them a bright, polite thank you for the school transfer, walked back to my room, and slept like the dead. No beatings. No cold floors. 7 After that night, Matt and Amy never mentioned the letter of forgiveness ever again. I guess there was still a shred of human conscience buried somewhere inside them. I still remembered the day I dragged myself out of that house and collapsed on the street in front of Officer Riley. She had kicked the abusive bastard to the ground when he chased after me. She screamed in his face, calling him an animal. She was the one who personally locked them in a cell. She was a total stranger. Yet my own flesh and blood had tried to trick me into setting them free. If I said it didn’t hurt a little, I’d be lying. But for someone whose only goal was survival, that kind of emotional pain was utterly insignificant. When my sophomore year started, I officially transferred into the elite prep school, walking the same halls as Bella and Jim. Jim and I were fraternal twins. People always say twins share a deep, telepathic bond. But out of everyone in the Kensington house, he hated me the most. Every time he saw me in the hallway, he backed me into a locker. “If I catch you talking shit about Bella to anyone at this school, I don’t care if we share DNA. I will destroy you.” Looking at him puffing out his chest and turning red in the face, he looked exactly like the aggressive geese I used to butcher for dinner back in the slums. Bella, on the other hand, had become surprisingly quiet. She must have noticed the heavy, guilt-ridden looks Matt and Amy directed my way after the bedroom incident. She stopped throwing tantrums and started acting like a terrified little rabbit every time I walked into a room, expertly farming sympathy from the rest of the family. I couldn’t care less. I knew my academic foundation was trash, so I poured every ounce of my energy into catching up. I woke up before dawn to memorize vocabulary. I stayed up past midnight burning through practice exams. The second I got home from school, I locked myself in my room, functioning like a tireless machine. I was running a marathon against kids who had a fifteen-year head start. Perhaps out of guilt, Matt and Amy started paying a lot more attention to me at dinner. That shift in focus made Bella incredibly anxious. A few days later, during passing period, a group of girls in designer uniforms cornered me in the girls’ bathroom. One of them held up her phone, the red recording light blinking. They laughed as they shoved me against the tiles. Someone grabbed a fistful of my hair and tried to force my face toward the toilet bowl. Open-handed slaps rained down on my face and shoulders. “Think you can turn into a swan just because you live in a mansion?” “Look at you. You reek of poverty. You really think you belong in the same school as us?” I didn’t fight back. I let them push me around, my body trembling slightly—not from fear, but from raw, electric excitement. The second the girl lowered her phone and stopped recording, I slowly lifted my head. I gave them a dark, blood-chilling smile. “Done filming? My turn.” These pampered princesses hit like they were swatting flies. Compared to the fifteen years of bone-breaking beatings I had survived, this was a gentle massage. By the time I straightened my collar and casually walked out of the bathroom stall, the only sounds left behind me were agonizing groans. Bella was waiting at the end of the hallway, expecting to see her little gang walk out victorious. Instead, she locked eyes with me. My face was bruised and my lip was bleeding. I smiled at her. “Better start thinking about how you’re going to clean up this mess.” The fallout was massive. The principal’s office was packed shoulder-to-shoulder with furious, wealthy parents. The room buzzed with outrage. A woman dripping in diamonds pointed a manicured finger right at my face. “You dared to lay a hand on my daughter? I’ll make sure you rot in juvenile detention!” “Mrs. Sterling is absolutely right,” a man in a tailored suit and gold-rimmed glasses added, his voice like ice. “The bruise on my daughter’s neck is physical evidence. The Vance family will not let this slide!” The girl in the pink skirt, whose face was currently swollen to the size of a grapefruit, hid behind her mother and shrieked. “Mom, she’s a psycho! We just gave her some friendly advice, and she attacked us like a rabid dog!” Her mother pulled her into a protective hug and glared at the principal. “Mr. Davis, a student with this kind of violent psychosis needs to be expelled immediately. What if she brings a knife to school next time?” “Exactly,” another woman in a Chanel suit scoffed. “I heard she grew up in the slums. She’s carrying degenerate genes. We refuse to let our children breathe the same air as someone like her.” Bella leaned against Matt’s arm, weeping softly. “It’s all my fault… if it wasn’t for me, Ivy wouldn’t have lost her temper…” Matt’s face was livid. The homeroom teacher seized the moment to add fuel to the fire. “Mr. Kensington, your daughter has been causing friction since the day she transferred. Today, she brutally assaulted three honors students. We cannot allow one bad apple to ruin the academy’s prestige.” “Dad, look at her,” Jim sneered from the corner. “She just stands there looking like a serial killer. She’s damaged goods.” Surrounded by a firing squad of billionaires and academics, I suddenly let out a soft laugh.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “418528”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

When the compliance notice from the Labor Board dropped, I agreed to it without a single second of hesitation. After all, nobody could have predicted that my highly progressive flex-time policy would end up with a Gen Z employee dragging my name to the top of the trending charts at three in the morning. The internet mob even reported me to the regulatory authorities. Their main argument was that I maliciously blurred the lines between working hours and personal time. But the truth was, I never forced anyone to adhere to a specific schedule. As long as their total required hours were met by the end of the month, I didn’t care when they clocked in. After agreeing to the mandated changes, I immediately sent a blast to the company group chat. From this moment on, we are strictly enforcing a nine-to-five schedule. If you are one minute late, your pay will be docked. After five o’clock, the company will automatically cut the power and the Wi-Fi. Less than a minute after I hit send, the entire chat absolutely exploded. 1 To accommodate the diverse lives and responsibilities of everyone in the company, I had introduced an extremely liberal flex-time system. No mandatory clock-in times. We simply tally the total hours at the end of the month. As long as you hit your quota, you are fine. When I first announced the new policy, the entire office cheered. Once the room quieted down, I added a few caveats. If a project is urgent, you can apply for overtime, and you will be compensated strictly according to the law. But if your monthly hours fall short, your salary will be docked proportionally. That completely wiped out any lingering doubts. The parents who needed to do school drop-offs, the veteran employees who despised the brutal morning rush hour, and the young night owls who struggled to wake up early were practically jumping out of their seats. “Sam is an absolute legend!” “Best CEO ever. This is a dream company!” “Thank God. I never have to sit in bumper-to-bumper traffic for an hour again.” “Traffic is nothing. This is a lifesaver for us insomniacs. I can finally have a normal life.” Seeing them so thrilled made me genuinely happy. I understood that everyone had a life outside these walls. I never wanted work to turn their personal lives into a chaotic mess. As long as the job got done, creating a win-win situation for both the company and the staff was the best possible move. A few months into the new system, the mental health and general vibe of the office drastically improved. Company revenue went up significantly. The high-efficiency employees scored better performance reviews and took home fatter bonus checks. The staff juggling personal issues finally had the breathing room to get their lives in order. Everything was perfect. Until the end of this month, when Zoey, our youngest junior associate, posted an update on her social media at three in the morning. The photo showed the office brightly lit in the dead of night. The caption read: Flex-time is just a trap for capitalist exploitation. The company deliberately blurs the boundary between off-hours and work so we spend twenty-four hours a day stressing over our jobs. The post struck a massive nerve online. By the time the sun came up, I was public enemy number one. “Sam! You need to look at Twitter right now!” Brenda, our HR Director, practically screamed through the phone, dragging me out of a deep sleep at 4:17 AM. I opened the app. Sitting right at the number five trending spot was a glaring hashtag. #FlexTimeIsCorporateGaslighting. I clicked on it. Zoey’s 3:00 AM office photo had been quote-tweeted by a career influencer with three million followers. The influencer added their own commentary. Just another sweatshop hiding behind the mask of humanized management. The reality of flex-time is being on call twenty-four seven. The reply section was a complete warzone. “Bosses like this make me sick. They pretend not to track your hours, but they secretly force you to grind at 3 AM.” “Report them to the Labor Board immediately.” “Already reported.” I kept scrolling. Those two words were repeated hundreds of times in a dense, suffocating wall of text. Already reported. Already reported. Already reported. Brenda was still talking on the other end of the line. “Zoey also leaked screenshots from the company group chat. It’s the message you sent last week when you were dealing with that late-night client revision. But she cropped out all the context. She only left the half where you asked her to fix the proposal at two in the morning.” “What was the original text?” “She cropped out your opening line, ‘If you have time tomorrow,’ and your closing line, ‘No rush at all.’ All she left was ‘Take a look at this proposal for me.’ The timestamp clearly shows 2:03 AM.” I stayed silent for a few heavy seconds. “Have you pulled her timesheet for this month?” “I did.” Brenda’s voice dropped to a low whisper. “Up until today, Zoey’s actual logged hours are only at sixty percent of the standard requirement. She spent most of the month out of the office. She’s only pulling all-nighters right now to artificially inflate her hours before the payroll deadline.” “So the picture of the brightly lit office at 3 AM was just her sitting there running out the clock.” “Exactly.” I put the phone down and rubbed my temples. She slacked off all month. Now that she was about to get her pay docked for missing her hours, she camped out in the office to cheat the system. When she realized she still wouldn’t hit the quota, she played the victim online to farm sympathy. When daylight broke, the situation showed zero signs of improving. When I arrived at the lobby, Jenny the receptionist hurried over looking completely overwhelmed. “Sam, there are four different reporters waiting downstairs, and some guy with a selfie stick is live-streaming right outside our glass doors.” “Ignore them.” “Also… the Labor Board called. They said they received a massive influx of civilian complaints and are requiring our full cooperation for an audit.” I barely stepped into my office before my phone buzzed again. It was a text from Greg, one of my middle managers. “Sam, I really think you need to make a public statement. The narrative online is turning incredibly toxic.” “I’ve been in this industry for over a decade and never seen anything like this. If you need me to step in and do some damage control, just say the word.” Before I could even type a reply, another message popped up. This one was from Kyle. “Sam, the clients on my three active projects are definitely going to have concerns about this. Do you want me to ask my mentor to smooth things over? He has a solid relationship with their reps.” I stared at the two messages. Something felt incredibly off. Greg had been with the company for eight years. His absolute best skill was delegating all of his actual work to his subordinates. Kyle was the protege Greg had personally trained. Last year, Kyle’s mother was hospitalized with a severe illness. Because of our flex-time policy, he was able to spend every morning at the hospital and work in the afternoons. I clearly remembered him shaking my hand and telling me he would follow me to the end of the earth for giving him that flexibility. Now, the mentor and the student were perfectly coordinating their texts to me. It wasn’t normal. Half an hour later, I found out why. Brenda pushed my door open, her face completely pale. “Sam, you need to check Twitter again.” Greg and Kyle had both posted their own lengthy statements. Greg went first. “As a veteran employee who has been with this company for eight years, I feel the need to speak the truth. Flex-time sounds beautiful on paper, but the invisible pressure is very real. When the boss texts you in the middle of the night, do you ignore it? If you ignore it, you get put on a blacklist. If you reply, your personal time is destroyed. I don’t want to make enemies, but facts are facts.” Kyle’s post was right beneath it. “When my mom was hospitalized last year, the company did let me adjust my schedule, and I am grateful for that. But gratitude doesn’t mean the system isn’t broken. A lot of coworkers complain about this in private, but nobody has the guts to speak up. Zoey finally said what we were all thinking. She took a bullet for all of us.” Both essays were tagged with the same trending hashtag. #FlexTimeIsHiddenOvertime. “Sam, what are we going to do?” I placed my phone face down on my desk. “When is the Labor Board coming?” “They said tomorrow morning.” “Good.” I stood up. “Let them come.” “But what about Greg and Kyle…” “Ignore them. Let the bullets fly for a bit.” I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window and looked down. The livestreamers were still down on the sidewalk, pointing their cameras directly up at our corporate logo. My phone vibrated one more time. It was an email. Sender: Victor Blackwood. He was the lead investor currently finalizing a massive capital injection into our company. The email contained exactly one sentence. “Sam, I am closely monitoring this situation.” 2 “Sam, the inspectors are here.” The next morning at exactly nine o’clock, Brenda walked into my office followed by two men in official windbreakers. The man in the lead looked to be in his forties. His badge read Inspector Marcus Cole. “You must be the CEO. We received a significant volume of complaints stating that your company is using flexible working hours as a disguise to force uncompensated overtime.” “Please, have a seat.” I poured him a glass of water before speaking again. “I am aware of the allegations online. What materials do you need from me?” “No rush. Take a look at this first.” Marcus pulled a thick stack of printed screenshots from his briefcase. “These are the chat logs circulating online. They clearly show you demanding revisions from an employee at 2:00 AM. Furthermore, multiple staff members have publicly confirmed that invisible overtime is an ongoing issue here.” “Multiple staff members?” “Yes. Aside from the original poster, Zoey, a manager named Greg and an employee named Kyle have both issued public statements verifying the claims.” I nodded slowly. I pulled a thick, perfectly organized binder from my drawer and slid it across the desk. “This contains the comprehensive time logs, backend server attendance data, and signed overtime request forms for every single employee over the last six months.” “Every single hour of overtime is verified and signed by the employees themselves. The corresponding overtime pay stubs are attached to each file.” Marcus took the binder and flipped through a few pages. His brow furrowed. “This employee, Zoey… her actual logged hours for this month are this low?” “Correct. Our flex-time policy does not dictate when people arrive or leave, but we do require a baseline quota of hours by the end of the month.” “If they fall short, their salary is prorated. Every employee signed a contract agreeing to those terms.” “Then why was she in the office at three in the morning?” “Because she rarely showed up to work at the beginning of the month. Realizing she was going to face a massive pay cut, she tried to artificially inflate her hours at the last minute. She sat in the office until dawn just to run out the clock, took a photo, and claimed we force her to be on standby twenty-four hours a day.” The junior inspector sitting next to Marcus leaned over to look at the data. The two men exchanged a quiet glance. Marcus cleared his throat. “What about the chat log where you demanded revisions at two in the morning?” I flipped the binder to a specific tab and pointed at the page. “Here is the unedited server log of that conversation.” “She cropped out the beginning and the end of my message when she took the screenshot.” Marcus read the complete transcript. He sat in total silence for about fifteen seconds. “Sam, objectively speaking, based on the documentation you’ve provided, your company’s flex-time policy is entirely legal and strictly compliant.” “However.” He shifted in his chair. “The social impact has already occurred.” “We have over three hundred formal complaints lodged in our system. We cannot just walk away and do nothing. I strongly suggest your company implement some performative corrective measures to give the public a satisfactory narrative.” “What kind of performative measures?” “For example, abolish the flex-time policy. Revert to a standard, rigid attendance system. At the very least, you need to show the public that you are making drastic changes.” I leaned back in my chair and looked at him. “Inspector Cole, what you are saying is that my policies are flawless, but because the internet threw a tantrum, I have to punish my entire company?” Marcus let out a heavy sigh. “Sam, I’m just a guy doing his job. I completely sympathize with your position. But with the optics being this bad, if you don’t do something drastic, my hands are tied.” After the inspectors left, Brenda was fuming. Her face was flushed with pure frustration. “Sam, it’s so obvious Zoey manipulated the narrative. Why should we be the ones forced to change—” “Make the change.” Brenda froze. “Sam?” “He was right. The narrative is already set.” “How drastic do you want the changes to be?” I pulled my keyboard toward me and started typing. “The absolute strictest version possible.” Ten minutes later, an announcement popped up in the main company chat. “As mandated by the Labor Board, all flex-time policies are permanently abolished effective tomorrow. Every employee will strictly adhere to a 9:00 AM to 5:00 PM schedule. At exactly 5:00 PM, the building’s network and power will be cut, and the premises will be locked.” The chat went dead silent. Then, it erupted like a string of firecrackers. “What?! My son gets out of school at 4:30. I have to leave at 3:30 every day to pick him up. What am I supposed to do now?” “I live in the suburbs. If I have to badge in right at 9:00 AM, I have to leave my house at 6:30. That’s a four-hour daily commute.” “Cut the power and network? What if I’m in the middle of a deployment? If we delay a software patch, the clients are going to murder us.” The messages scrolled by at lightning speed. I placed my phone face down on the desk. A knock came at the door. Greg pushed his way into the office. “Sam, don’t you think this decision is… a little too impulsive?” I stared at him without saying a word. “Canceling flex-time is going to devastate morale. Can we at least discuss this? I really think I can represent the team and negotiate a better compromise with the Labor Board—” “Negotiate what?” “You know… find a middle ground.” “Greg, your little essay online made your stance perfectly clear, didn’t it?” The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Now that the strict rules you advocated for are here, you should be thrilled.” His lips parted, but no words came out. “Sam, Greg makes a fair point. Shouldn’t we reconsider?” Kyle had quietly slipped into the doorway. “My decision is final. Everyone badges in at nine o’clock sharp tomorrow morning. If you are one minute late, you will be penalized according to the new company bylaws.” I walked toward the door, slipping past them. Greg’s face had turned completely green. 3 “Zoey, come here.” I was standing by the reception desk bright and early the next morning. Almost everyone walking through the glass doors wore the exhausted, resentful expressions of people who had fought through peak subway rush hour. Sarah’s eyes were red. As she swiped her badge, she was muttering to a coworker. “My kid was sobbing this morning begging me not to leave so early.” Dave dragged his heavy backpack through the doors, his hair completely windblown. He must have sprinted from a rental bike after getting off the train. Zoey strolled in casually at 8:59 AM. She even flashed me a smug little smile. “Morning, Boss.” “My office.” She followed me inside. I didn’t offer her a seat. “That post you made—” “Oh, that.” She slipped her designer bag off her shoulder. “I only posted the truth. The office was lit up at 3 AM, and I was sitting at my desk working.” “The server logs prove you barely set foot in the office for the first three weeks of the month.” “It was flex-time. You were the one who made the rule saying we didn’t have strict hours.” “Your total hours were drastically below the legal requirement.” “That’s just because nobody assigned me enough tasks. Isn’t that a failure of management?” I looked at her, and she stared right back. Her gaze was incredibly unsettling. She knew exactly what she was doing. She knew exactly what she was saying. “You intentionally cropped out the beginning and the end of my text message in your screenshot.” “I just kept the relevant parts.” She tilted her head. “Sam, you can’t deny the fact that you texted an employee at 2:00 AM, right? It doesn’t matter how many times you say ‘no rush.’ Do you really think a low-level worker can just ignore a midnight text from the CEO?” Her talking points were entirely too polished. “Who fed you that script?” Her eyes darted away for a fraction of a second. “Nobody. I thought of it myself.” “Your post was immediately amplified by an influencer with three million followers. Do you know them?” “Never heard of them. Anyone can retweet anything on the internet.” I didn’t press the issue. “Get back to your desk.” She walked to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. “Just a friendly reminder, Sam. The entire internet is on my side right now.” “If you try to retaliate against me in any way, the backlash will destroy you.” The door clicked shut. Brenda stormed out of the adjoining conference room, literally shaking with rage. “That arrogant little brat! Sam, are you just going to let her—” “We don’t touch her. Not yet.” “Why?” “Because she’s right. If I fire her today, it looks like illegal retaliation.” I sat back down and woke up my computer. There was an unread email waiting in my inbox. The second message from Victor Blackwood. “Sam, I have noted that your employees are publicly alleging toxic management practices. Concurrently, there are rumors that your major clients are reconsidering their contracts. As the lead investor conducting due diligence, we must evaluate this instability carefully. Please keep the lines of communication open.” I read the email three times. I had dealt with Victor twice before. He was ruthlessly pragmatic and never wasted a single syllable. Sending this specific email was his way of telling me: How you handle this crisis determines if you get my money. At 2:00 PM, a much larger disaster struck. Richard, the lead executive for our biggest corporate client, called my cell. “Sam, I’ve seen the news regarding your internal issues. It’s not that I don’t trust you, but our conglomerate has strict risk-assessment protocols for PR nightmares. With your company sitting on the trending list for labor exploitation, I can’t sign off on the new contract. We are pausing the deal until the dust settles.” “Richard—” “Sam, don’t put me in a bad spot. The board made the call. I can’t change it.” He hung up. That contract was worth ten million dollars. It was the cornerstone of our entire quarterly revenue. I sat alone in my office, watching the sky outside the window slowly turn dark. At exactly 5:00 PM, the main breakers tripped. The Wi-Fi routers died. A wave of chaotic footsteps and loud groans instantly filled the hallway outside my door. Coders screamed that they hadn’t pushed their commits. Account managers complained that their emails were trapped in the outbox. “Sam, Greg just pulled a bunch of people into the breakroom for a quick huddle.” Brenda whispered from the doorway. “What is he saying?” “He’s telling them that letting things burn is actually a good thing. He said it might finally force you to wake up and see reason.” I let out a soft laugh. “Sam, what’s so funny?” “I’m laughing because he forgot one very important detail.” “What’s that?” “He’s just an employee here.” 4 “Listen up. I know the last two days have been incredibly difficult.” On the third afternoon, I gathered every department head in the main conference room. “I called you here to announce two things.” “First, starting next Monday, your attendance records will be directly tied to your performance bonuses.” “Anyone who is late more than three times will automatically be downgraded one performance tier for the month.” Dave opened his mouth to object but quickly shut it. “Second—” Greg suddenly interrupted me. “Sam, let me just jump in here. Can we be a little flexible with this? Maybe implement a ten-minute grace period? A lot of people commute from the outer suburbs. Things happen on the train—” “Greg, when we had flex-time, you were the loudest voice complaining about it. Now that we have strict hours, you want to introduce a grace period to blur the lines again?” The conference room was dead silent for two seconds. “That was a totally different situation—” “Were you hitting your required monthly hours back then?” He didn’t answer. He just tapped his fingers nervously against the mahogany table. “The second item.” “I have handed the legal issues regarding Zoey over to corporate counsel. Her social media posts contained deliberate omissions and fabricated narratives that caused severe reputational damage and direct financial losses to this company. The lawyers are currently drafting the cease-and-desist and preparing a defamation suit.” Kyle looked up, shooting a panicked glance at Greg. “Sam, isn’t that going a little overboard? Zoey is just a fresh graduate. She probably just acted out of impulse—” “Kyle.” “When your mother was in the hospital last year, I let you work half-days without docking a single cent of your pay. You were the biggest beneficiary of the flex-time system. But in your little viral essay, you wrote—” “A lot of coworkers complain about this in private, but nobody has the guts to speak up.” “Kyle, who complained? Give me one name right now.” His face flushed a deep, humiliating red. “I… I wasn’t thinking straight when I typed that.” “When you typed that, you were thinking about internet clout.” “Your post has twenty thousand retweets. The entire comment section is a mob calling for my head. Do you think that mob helped anyone?” “Did it help you? Did it pay your mother’s medical bills? Did it help Zoey, who barely scraped together sixty percent of her required hours?” He hung his head. Greg finally stopped tapping the table. “Sam, people vent online. There’s no need to turn this into a witch hunt.” “Greg, when has a manager ever texted you in the middle of the night?” “When have you ever received a midnight text from me? Show me the screenshot.” The corner of his mouth twitched. “I was speaking generally…” “Generally about what? Do I need you to teach me how to run my company?” Nobody in the room dared to breathe. “That’s all for today.” “Starting tomorrow, the new rules are absolute. No grace periods. No exceptions. Meeting adjourned.” The room slowly emptied out. I stayed seated at the head of the table for another five minutes. Brenda walked in holding a freshly printed document. “Sam, Victor Blackwood just sent another email.” “Sam, my team and I have conducted a preliminary review of the current situation. Frankly, this PR crisis and the subsequent internal fallout have raised serious concerns about your management team’s resilience under pressure and overall cohesion. We are recalibrating the risk coefficient of this investment. Our final decision will be based entirely on your company’s performance over the next two weeks.” Brenda watched my face, asking tentatively, “Sam, how important is Victor’s capital injection?” “If his check doesn’t clear, half this company will be laid off by next year.” Brenda inhaled sharply. I folded the email and slipped it into my pocket. My phone buzzed. A WeChat message from Zoey. It was a screenshot of her latest tweet. “Just found out the company is sending me a legal threat. The capitalists have finally taken their masks off. If you want to frame someone, you can always find an excuse. Worker’s lives matter.” She added one word to the text message. “Scared?” Brenda saw the screen and literally trembled with anger. “This little girl is a completely different breed of toxic—” “She’s not a mastermind.” I shoved the phone into my pocket. “She just thinks that because she hijacked the sympathy of a few hundred thousand strangers, she earned a seat at the table with me.” “So what’s the plan?” I pushed the conference room doors open. “Let the storm get a little wilder. I’ll play her game.”

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I had been married twice before, and I told Oliver everything before we wed. My first marriage was to help my childhood friend Carter with an inheritance, the second to help Sebastian avoid a forced marriage. I made it clear both were purely transactional. Oliver, with teary eyes, swore he believed me and asked that I only have eyes for him. After marrying, he treated me like royalty but seemed to despise my ex-husbands. Everything changed when I came home early and overheard them laughing together. They joked about my “rich divorce experience” and planned for Oliver to hand me divorce papers on April Fools’ Day as a prank, then coax me back afterward. The three had made a pact in high school: to attend a party for Vanessa, the girl they all orbited, as single men. So when Oliver gave me the papers, sighing that my exes bet I wouldn’t sign, I calmly took the pen and signed. By the time he came looking for me, I was six months pregnant. I told him he was right about one thing—I do take things too seriously. I took his April Fools’ joke very, very seriously. … I sat in the coffee shop across from our gated community for a full hour. I waited until I saw Carter and Sebastian leave the premises before I finally dragged my suitcase toward home. Hearing the door open, Oliver put down his phone and hurried over to take my luggage. “Why didn’t you text me? I would have picked you up from the airport.” He took the suitcase with one hand and smoothly wrapped his other arm around my waist. He was the picture of a doting, gentle husband, exactly the same as always. “Did you grab something to eat?” he asked. “I ate.” He nodded, then acted as if a thought had just casually crossed his mind. “Right, honey, there’s something we need to talk about.” I put down my purse and turned to look at him. He let out a heavy sigh and pushed a thick folder across the kitchen island. “The company hit a bit of a rough patch recently. We need to do some asset protection. The lawyers suggested we file for a quick divorce, just as a formality.” I glanced down. It was a separation agreement. He had prepared it all so incredibly fast. “Once this storm blows over, we’ll get remarried immediately.” He reached out and squeezed my hand, his voice dripping with sincerity. “It’ll only be for a few months.” I stayed completely silent. “I know it’s sudden.” He rubbed the back of my hand, lowering his voice to sound defensive and slightly aggrieved. “But Carter and Sebastian called me today. They were making snide remarks, saying how you bent over backwards to help them with no questions asked, but when it comes to me, you wouldn’t dare.” “They even laughed and said a woman who has been divorced twice wouldn’t have the guts to do it a third time. They said you couldn’t handle the heat.” “So I figured it out. Tomorrow is April Fools’ Day. Let’s just go file the papers tomorrow… and then we’ll slap the certificates right in their arrogant faces. Let’s scare the hell out of them and see if they ever look down on you again.” “Besides, it’s April Fools. You can play anything off as a joke. Once the company’s financial heat dies down, we’ll legally tie the knot again. Nobody will bat an eye.” He stared into my eyes, his expression a perfect mix of grievance and hopeful anticipation. “Honey, you aren’t really going to let them look down on me, are you?” I looked into his eyes. I looked for a very long time. They were so incredibly affectionate, flawlessly devoted. Yet these were the exact same eyes that had just been crinkling with laughter as he clinked glasses with those two men, boasting, “She won’t make a fuss.” “No, I won’t,” I replied, giving him exactly what he wanted. A visible wave of relief washed over him, though he quickly masked it as pleasant surprise. “Then go get some rest. Tomorrow is the first of the month. After we sign, we’ll head straight to…” I picked up the pen, flipped directly to the last page, and signed my name with sharp, fluid strokes. “Give them a call,” I said, dropping the pen and offering him a soft smile. “Tell them to stop running their mouths.” Oliver froze for a second. He clearly had not expected me to be this agreeable. He recovered quickly, tucking the documents away with a grin, and leaned in to kiss my cheek. “You’re the best wife in the world.” I let him kiss me. Inside, my heart felt like a hollowed-out stone. He took the folder into the study to make his phone call. He kept his voice low, but through the heavy oak door, the words still bled through. “She signed it.” Carter’s voice drifted through the receiver, faint but unmistakable. “Told you so. Josie is the easiest person in the world to coax.” “Alright, keep Vanessa distracted for me. I’ll head over as soon as I wrap things up here.” I sat alone in our bedroom for a very long time. My phone buzzed. It was a text from Sebastian. [Long time no see. Want to grab a drink and catch up?] I stared at the glowing screen. In the past, I would have eagerly typed back “Yes.” I would have spent an hour agonizing over my outfit and makeup. I would have strategized on how to defend Oliver’s pride in front of them, wanting them to know how wonderfully he treated me. I would have begged them to stop picking fights with him. After all, on one side were the boys I grew up with, and on the other was my deeply loved husband. They were all so important to me. I hated the thought of them being enemies for the rest of our lives. But now, I could not even muster the energy to type a single letter. I tossed the phone face-down on the coffee table and walked out to the balcony to gather the laundry. Passing by the study, I heard Oliver still on the phone. His tone was hushed, but there was a distinct, relaxed drawl to his voice that I had never heard before. It was the sound of a man who no longer had to pretend, no longer had to act like the perfect husband. It suddenly hit me that in all our time together, he had never once spoken to me with that level of unfiltered ease. The wind on the balcony was biting. I took the clothes off the hangers one by one, folding them mechanically and dropping them into the wicker basket. As I pulled down the last shirt, my phone lit up again. This time, Carter. [Heard you’re getting divorced again? Oliver is absolute trash. He doesn’t deserve you, don’t let it get to you.] [Your grandfather’s 80th birthday gala is coming up. Sebastian and I will be there to celebrate. Let’s hang out properly then!] A dry laugh escaped my lips. He sounded so incredibly sweet. As if he had not literally been sitting in my living room hours ago, masterminding this exact scenario. I pressed the power button until the screen went black and slipped the phone into my pocket. For a fleeting second, I wondered what kind of woman Vanessa actually was. What was it about her that made these three men scheme so ruthlessly to keep a teenage promise? What made her worth treating me like a disposable pawn? But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. It didn’t matter anymore. I picked up the laundry basket and headed back inside. Walking past the study, my footsteps did not falter. Warm amber light spilled from the crack under the door. This light, this house, this man. Starting tomorrow, none of it would have anything to do with me. Just as I set the basket down, the doorbell chimed. I went to answer it, but Oliver beat me to it. The woman standing on the porch had flushed cheeks and reeked of sweet, stale liquor. The moment she saw Oliver, her face lit up. “I knew you’d still be awake.” Oliver instinctively glanced back at me before hissing in a panicked whisper, “What are you doing here?” She ignored him, stumbling past the threshold. She only paused when she noticed me standing in the center of the living room. “Oh, the missus is home.” Carter, hovering right behind her, grabbed her arm to steady her and quickly offered me an apologetic look. “Josie, she had way too much to drink. We were dropping her off, but she insisted on swinging by to see the place.” Sebastian stood stiffly in the doorway, shooting me an unnatural look. His gaze then shifted to Oliver, his tone turning sharp and defensive. “Oliver, your wife is standing right there. Don’t you know how to keep your distance?” Oliver bristled, his brow furrowing. “You get her blackout drunk, dump her at my house, and then tell me to keep my distance?” “I got her drunk? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that you just posted about being a single man again!” Sebastian sneered, stepping aside with a look of utter disdain. “Fine, play the saint. The girl who drank herself silly crying over you has been delivered. Deal with it yourself.” The two men stood on opposite sides of the entryway. The air between them felt thick with frost. Caught in the middle, Carter let out an awkward cough. “Alright, cut the crap, both of you. Vanessa was just in the neighborhood…” I stood perfectly still, watching this theatrical masterpiece unfold from start to finish. Their chemistry was flawless. If I had not heard them clinking glasses and laughing earlier, I would have bet my life they hated each other. For the longest time, I genuinely believed my bond with Carter and Sebastian was impenetrable. Back when we were at our most loyal, I had literally married both of them just to bail them out of trouble. My parents died when I was young, and my grandfather was always busy running his empire. It was Carter and Sebastian who filled the gaps in my childhood and teenage years. Whenever I cried, Carter was the one making stupid faces to cheer me up. Sebastian once took a knife to the arm trying to protect me from a mugger. To me, they were closer than blood. When exactly did our ironclad trio rot into this? Probably during our freshman year of high school, the year Vanessa transferred in. Suddenly, a new inner circle formed. I was slowly pushed to the edges, becoming the forgotten leftover. They only ever remembered my worth when they needed a pawn to make someone else jealous. I pulled my gaze away from the doorway. Certain cracks do not just form overnight. Today was simply the day I finally chose to look at them. “You’re all here just in time. I need witnesses.” I walked over to the coffee table and picked up the separation agreement. “Two copies. I’ve already signed. Since everyone is gathered, you might as well take a good look.” Oliver’s expression shifted slightly, but a flicker of smug satisfaction quickly masked his surprise. In his mind, my pulling out the divorce papers in front of Carter and Sebastian was a declaration of love. It was me proving how far I was willing to go for him. “Josie,” he stepped forward, his voice taking on a soothing, patronizing tone. “We can handle this privately, you don’t need to…” “Well, since your wife brought it up,” Vanessa suddenly slurred, tilting her head, “do you mind if I ask… when exactly are you moving out?” The living room plunged into dead silence. Oliver winced. Vanessa did not even look at him. She stared straight at me, her face the picture of drunken innocence. “The deed to this house is in my name, you know. You can’t exactly squat here forever.” I froze. The house was in her name? My eyes darted to Oliver. He looked away, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. He did not say a word to deny it. In that split second, a tidal wave of memories crashed over me. The day we moved in, he held my hand and whispered, “This is our sanctuary.” When we bought it, he smiled and said, “I’ll handle all the boring legal paperwork, don’t stress yourself.” I had spent weeks happily picking out the velvet curtains, the linen sofa, the mahogany dining table. Every single piece of furniture was something I had personally hauled back from designer showrooms. Every corner of this house was meticulously decorated to suit his exact tastes. Coming from wealth, I never cared whose name was stamped on a piece of paper. But never in my wildest nightmares did I imagine that my marital home belonged to another woman. I looked down at the divorce papers in my hand and let out a soft, sharp laugh. “I’ll leave right now.” “Josie…” Oliver took a step toward me. “Tomorrow morning. Nine o’clock. City Hall.” I did not look back. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, walked to the door, swapped my slippers for heels, and walked out into the night. The hallway lights flickered on, then dimmed. As I waited for the elevator, muffled voices seeped through the heavy wooden door behind me. “Damn, you really pulled a fast one! She signed faster than when I begged her to marry me!” The bursts of laughter and clinking glass hit my back like shrapnel. I stood by the elevator, listening to the punchline of a joke I was never in on. I caught my reflection in the polished steel doors. I looked much calmer than I felt. It was only when I was sitting in the back of a taxi that my phone buzzed. A text from Oliver. [I will explain the house situation to you…] [Be good, just find a hotel for now. I’ll come pick you up in a few days.] I stared at the screen for a few seconds, then flipped the phone over on my lap. Outside the window, the streetlights blurred into streaks of yellow. Come pick me up in a few days? He talked as if I had just run to the grocery store and would be right back to cook him dinner. I leaned my head against the cold leather seat and closed my eyes. Save it, Oliver. You won’t be picking me up ever again. … At nine o’clock the next morning, I arrived at the county clerk’s office. Oliver was already waiting by the curb. He was leaning against his car, but the moment he saw my cab pull up, he dropped his cigarette, crushed it under his leather shoe, and walked over. “Where did you stay last night?” he asked. “My grandfather’s.” He nodded. His eyes lingered on my face for a second. He reached out, instinctively wanting to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, but I tilted my head away. His hand hung in the empty air for a moment before he slowly pulled it back. “Josie,” he murmured, his tone thick with an infuriatingly confident warmth. “I know you gave me face in front of Carter and Sebastian last night. I appreciate it.” “As for the house…” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Vanessa needed to establish residency in the city, and she needed property under her name to do it. I figured it was just a name on a piece of paper. You come from old money, you’ve never cared about trivial things like that. I didn’t think it was worth bothering you over.” I looked him straight in the eyes. I did not speak. Trivial things? He gifted the home we built together to his first love. And he brushed it off with a casual “you’re rich, you wouldn’t care.” It wasn’t that he thought I wouldn’t care. It was that my feelings were completely irrelevant to him. “Anyway, you still have tenant rights!” he insisted, completely misreading my silence. “After we file the paperwork, just stay out of the house for a little bit. Once I sort out the corporate mess, I’ll bring you right back home.” I almost laughed out loud. Even now, he truly believed I was just playing my part in his little theatrical production. “Let’s go,” I said, ignoring his pathetic speech entirely and turning toward the imposing glass doors. “Let’s get this over with.” He hurried to keep up with me. The bureaucratic process was surprisingly fast. Signatures, thumbprints, submitting the IDs. The clerk brought down the heavy metal stamp with a sharp, resounding clack. The final decree of divorce was handed to me. It was just a few sheets of thick paper, not so different from our marriage license, just with a much colder weight to it. Oliver glanced down at his phone, his brow furrowing instantly. “I need to take this,” he told me, already stepping away. “Wait right here for a minute, I’ll drive you back.” He walked a few yards away and answered the call. His voice was hushed, but the wind carried a single name back to me. “Vanessa…” I stood rooted to the polished marble floor, quietly watching his broad shoulders retreat. He hung up and jogged back, looking stressed. “Something urgent came up. Take a cab home for now, I’ll call you later tonight.” I waited until he rushed out the front doors. Only then did I slowly turn around and walk in the opposite direction, straight toward the marriage license window. … By the time Oliver walked out of City Hall, the morning sun was glaring. He glanced at his divorce papers, then checked the date on his phone screen. April 1st. April Fools’ Day. Perfect. He had pulled it off. The tight coil of anxiety in his chest finally loosened. His phone rang again. It was a major client. He took the call, pacing the sidewalk for nearly ten minutes. When he finally hung up, he threw a glance back toward the towering doors of City Hall. Why hadn’t Josie come out yet? He hesitated, then started walking back toward the entrance. He figured he should at least go back in and give her a concrete timeline for when they would “remarry,” just so she wouldn’t start overthinking things. He had barely taken two steps when a man pushing his way out of the heavy doors collided squarely with his shoulder. The man’s folder slipped, papers fluttering toward the concrete. Oliver’s own divorce decree slipped from his fingers. “My apologies,” Oliver said out of habit, bending down to help. The two documents landed side by side. One was his fresh divorce decree. The other was a brand new marriage license. A gust of wind caught the cover of the marriage license, flipping it open just enough to reveal the corner of the couple’s photo inside. Oliver’s hand froze in mid-air. “No problem,” the stranger said smoothly, snatching up the marriage license before Oliver could react. His voice was cool, like ice water over glass. Oliver looked up. The man standing over him was tall and imposing, dressed in a sharp, slate-gray trench coat. His expression was completely unreadable. “Congratulations. Tying the knot today,” Oliver offered, a polite, empty platitude. The man briefly let his eyes drop to the divorce decree still in Oliver’s hand. “Congratulations to you too,” he replied flatly. Oliver blinked, the sarcasm flying entirely over his head. The man had already slipped the marriage license into the inner breast pocket of his coat. His gaze swept past Oliver, utterly dismissive, and he turned on his heel to walk away. Oliver stared at the man’s retreating back. A bizarre, nagging thought began clawing at his brain. It’s April Fools’ Day. Who in their right mind chooses to get married today? And that voice… the cut of his shoulders… Oliver felt an eerie sense of familiarity. “Hey, hold on!” Oliver called out. The man in the gray coat stopped and turned slightly, his face still an expressionless mask. “Do we—” Oliver’s phone violently vibrated in his palm. He glanced down. Sebastian. He hesitated for a split second, looking up to say “just a minute,” but the man in the gray coat had already vanished around the street corner. Oliver ignored the call. He was just about to head inside to find Josie when his phone buzzed again. Carter had sent a GPS pin, followed by a frantic text: [Hurry up! We need to reach the island before sunset.] Oliver stopped dead in his tracks. The island. He suddenly remembered the promise Vanessa made on the beach the night they graduated high school. She had sworn that before she ever got married, she would drag all of them to that specific private island to party for three days and three nights, cashing out the very last drops of their youth. Back then, everyone treated it like the most romantic, sacred vow in the world. Now, she was supposedly getting married. It was time to cash in. But the luxury resort on that island was notoriously exclusive. It didn’t take public reservations. You needed a heavy-hitting sponsor just to get past the dock. Among their little group, Oliver was the only one with enough corporate weight to hold a membership. If he was late, none of them were getting in. If he went back inside to find Josie, she might start crying or asking questions, and he would miss the ferry entirely. He shoved his phone into his pocket, turned his back on City Hall, and jogged toward the parking garage. When his car pulled up to the private marina, the whole crew was already standing by the pier with their weekend bags. Vanessa stood at the very front, wearing a fluttering white sundress. The sea breeze whipped her hair around her face. Oliver stared at that dress, his breath catching in his throat. It was the dress he had bought her for her seventeenth birthday, using three entire months of his saved-up lunch money. “Oliver!” Vanessa ran toward him, her skirt billowing, her eyes shining bright. “What took you so long? We’ve been waiting forever!” She linked her arm through his. “You’re taking three penalty shots for this, no backing out!” The soft, warm press of her body against his arm sent a jolt through him. He looked down at her. She was tilting her head back, laughing, her eyes sparkling like diamonds. Exactly the same as she was in high school. “Fine. Pour ’em,” he grinned. The group erupted into cheers. “Oliver always spoils Vanessa rotten!” Vanessa laughed and playfully pushed one of the guys. “What, are you jealous?” …

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