Seven years ago, when I was nothing but a street punk, I forcibly kissed the youngest son of the wealthy Sterling family—the one confined to a wheelchair. After the kiss, I ran. I stood at the top of a long flight of stairs, jutting my chin out provocatively. “Come find me when you can stand up and handle me yourself!” Seven years later, the new head of the Sterling Group—the man known as the “Cold-Blooded King,” Tyron Sterling—used his silk tie to bind my hands together and tossed me onto the bed. “I’m a man who holds a grudge, Dustin. Tell me, did you finally get the ‘handling’ you were asking for?” 01 Slap! A crisp sound echoed through the room. “You absolute moron! Who did I tell you to grab?” “The… the Sterling kid… he’s a Sterling…” “He’s the useless one! The cripple! He doesn’t count! I told you to kidnap Tyler Sterling—the old man’s golden boy! And you bring me this piece of trash? You idiot… you worthless dog…” As the Boss continued his tirade, the sound of Blondie’s muffled screams followed each blow. A moment later, the door creaked open. Blondie walked out, his face smeared with blood and his gait uneven. He shot me a venomous look. “You! Throw the cripple in the warehouse!” I was nineteen. I’d grown up on the streets, but since I was new to the crew, I had to play the “yes-man” to every senior member. Hearing the order, I pulled on my mask and went inside. I hoisted the unconscious teenager off the floor and carried him toward the abandoned storage unit next door. The boy was light. Surprisingly thin. As I carried him, I scoffed inwardly. Rich kids. Thin arms, thin legs. Fragile as a doll. He must have regained consciousness because he struggled against my shoulder. I expected a scream. I reached into my pocket to grab the gag I had ready, but there was no sound from him. Not even a whimper. Did he pass out again? I didn’t care. I opened the warehouse door and dumped him onto the concrete floor. When I looked down, I found myself staring into a pair of beautiful, yet hauntingly dark eyes. The boy was awake. He looked at me for a split second, then simply closed his eyes. I watched his Adam’s apple move slightly. I caught a glimpse of his pale, cracked lips. He was parched. He’d probably been out for hours. But he wouldn’t say a word. Suddenly, I felt a flicker of curiosity. “Hey.” I nudged his leg with my boot. “You want water?” No response. One second. Two. Ten. “Forget it!” I lost my patience. I figured he was just too high-and-mighty to talk to a street rat like me. Die of thirst for all I care, I thought. I turned on my heel, walked out, and locked the door. For the rest of the day, the gang seemed to forget the hostage existed. The Boss and Blondie didn’t ask about him once. No lunch. No dinner. I sat there slurping on a bowl of instant ramen. I’d put too much seasoning in; it was salty and spicy. As I reached for my water, those pale, cracked lips flashed through my mind. If he dies of dehydration, they’re going to blame it on me. Cursing under my breath, I grabbed a bottle of water and headed to the warehouse. “Hey. Still kicking?” I frowned, looking at the figure on the floor. He was exactly where I’d left him. Motionless. For a heartbeat, I felt a surge of genuine fear. I thought he was dead. If he died… he would be my first kill. Thankfully, his eyes fluttered open. I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Ignoring his lack of cooperation, I propped him up against my shoulder. I unscrewed the cap and poured water into his mouth. I was a bit too aggressive; he choked. He started coughing violently, the water soaking into his white dress shirt. That’s when I noticed the crest on his pocket. It was the insignia of St. Jude’s Academy—the kind of elite international school I could only dream of seeing from the outside. I stared at it, dazed. “What are you looking at?” he asked. It was the first time he’d spoken. His eyes were still hollow. Deadly calm. An inexplicable surge of irritation rose in my chest. I let go of him abruptly and walked out. 02 The next day, when I went to give him water, he refused to open his mouth. “Hey! Sit up! Drink!” I pulled him up, but he turned his head away, his jaw clamped shut. “It’s not poison!” I snapped, letting out a frustrated laugh as I patted his cheek. That seemed to snap something in him. He’d been submissive the day before, but now he was fighting back. His hands and feet were bound, so he used his head, lunging forward to headbutt me. I was crouching, caught off guard. He sent me sprawling backward onto the floor. The water bottle rolled away, spilling half its contents. The bag of bread I’d brought fell out of my pocket, tumbling onto the dirt. “You little—!” I cursed. I was actually trying to be nice, and this was the thanks I got? He gave me a cold, dismissive glance and turned back to lie on the floor. But looking at the way he was curled up, my eyes drifted down toward his lower abdomen. I smirked. “You’ve got a strong bladder. Twenty-four hours and you haven’t ruined your pants yet.” He didn’t speak, but he curled tighter, clearly embarrassed. I stood up, dusting off my jeans, feeling a sudden urge to mess with him. “Call me ‘Sir,’ and I’ll help you take care of business in the corner.” “Go to hell.” His voice was a low growl. My temper flared again. I didn’t play nice. I hauled him up from the ground and carried him to the corner of the room. His legs weren’t completely useless; one of them seemed to have some function. As I carried him, he used that leg to kick me as hard as he could. Once I set him down, I didn’t waste time. I reached for his belt and undid his trousers. His whole body started shaking. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or pure rage. “Get away! Don’t touch me!” I gripped his waist to keep him steady, standing behind him. I said one word: “Pee.” “You… you have to let go…” He held out as long as he could before finally surrendering to biology. “Hurry up.” I figured he could hold himself up against the wall for a second, so I let go and turned my back to him. When the sound stopped, I turned around. He was leaning against the wall, looking like he was about to collapse. Under the dim light of the warehouse, his pale skin was almost blinding. I pretended not to notice. I leaned down to help him back into his clothes. “Can you untie the ropes? I can… I can do it myself…” His eyes were closed, his head tilted back. His voice was hoarse, and he was still trembling. I don’t know what came over me. I felt a pang of pity. I untied the ropes around his wrists. Over the next two days, we fell into a rhythm. When I visited, I’d untie him. He’d use the wall to hobble over to the corner and take care of himself. Before I left, I’d tie him back up. 03 He barely ate. He barely drank. Most of the time, I had to force the food into his mouth. I noticed the scars on his wrists—old and new. He’d tried to end it before. Many times. But I’ve always been stubborn. I can’t stand it when people try to throw their lives away. “Why don’t you want to live?” “…” “Is it because of the legs?” “…” “Silence means I’m right.” “…It’s not.” I tried to keep him talking. Usually, it took three or four questions for him to give me a single sentence. “Then what is it?” “…” “Heartbreak? Girlfriend ran off with someone else?” “…No.” “Got it,” I sighed. “My boyfriend ran off too.” “…” I kept teasing him. He was tied up and couldn’t move, so he just glared at me with “eye-daggers.” But at least there was a spark of life in his face when he was angry. 04 I wanted him to live, but someone else wanted him dead. The Boss took a call that evening. When he hung up, he was grinning. He beckoned Blondie inside. I was just the errand boy, so I stood by the door. Through the thin wood, I heard laughter and snippets of the conversation. “You’re in luck. This deal isn’t a bust after all… we’re making a profit…” “Tonight, bring the body…” My heart skipped a beat. Bring the body? Were they talking about the kid? It didn’t sound like a ransom exchange. It sounded like a hit. The Boss was in a great mood. He took the crew out for drinks and food until late. I didn’t dare drink. I leaned over the table, pretending to be asleep. After midnight, Blondie woke me up. He called two other guys, but they were too drunk to walk, so he left them behind. It was just the three of us heading to the warehouse. Blondie didn’t wear his mask this time. He didn’t tell me to wear mine, either. That’s when I knew for sure. Blondie checked the ropes on the “cripple.” He told me to tape the kid’s mouth shut and shove him into a burlap sack. As I did it, my heart was hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. My fingers were shaking. The boy didn’t struggle. His eyes were pitch black, staring at me without blinking. Blondie stood by the door smoking, telling me to move faster. “Don’t be afraid,” I mouthed to the boy, my back turned to Blondie. 05 Blondie drove us to a deserted stretch of the coastline. “Get him out.” Blondie tossed his cigarette and pulled a handgun from his waistband. I pulled the boy out of the sack. His face was deathly pale in the moonlight. “Sorry, Mr. Sterling,” Blondie said, his voice casual. “Business is business. Someone paid a high price for your life.” Blondie knelt down and pressed the barrel of the gun to the boy’s forehead. He looked for fear. He looked for panic. He found nothing but silence. “You’re about to die. Don’t you want to know who paid for it?” Blondie asked. The boy just closed his eyes. “Fine. You’ve got guts.” Blondie stood up and cocked the hammer. In that split second, I slammed a brick into the back of Blondie’s head. I was gasping for air. I dropped the brick and scrambled to untie the boy. “Why?” I heard him whisper. “Why what?” “Letting me go does nothing for you.” I was panicking. I didn’t have time for a philosophical debate. I had one thought: Run. If we didn’t get out now, we were both dead. “I don’t give a damn about a reward!” I hissed. “But I’m not going to watch you die!” I’d heard his parents were gone and that he wasn’t exactly loved by the rest of the Sterling clan. I knew I wouldn’t get a cent for returning him, and I knew there was a price on his head. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t let him be murdered. The boy looked at me, stunned by my outburst. He leaned on my shoulder, struggling to stand. He leaned in close to my ear and whispered, “I won’t die today.” I followed his gaze toward the highway. At the end of the road, the rhythmic flash of blue and red lights appeared, accompanied by the distant wail of sirens… 06 The whole gang was taken down that night, including the Boss. Even though we were a mid-sized crew with connections, being wiped out in a single night was unheard of. It was a surgical strike. Later, while I was sitting in a holding cell, I heard the Boss had offended someone he shouldn’t have. The image of the boy’s calm, dark eyes flashed in my mind. I shook my head. No way. It couldn’t be him. It had to be a lucky coincidence. The boy was returned to the Sterling family that night. I expected to be sent to prison along with the others, but I was bailed out almost immediately. The man who came for me was a middle-aged professional in a suit. He introduced himself as Mr. Henderson. And he introduced the name of the boy: Tyron Sterling. When I walked out of the precinct, a black Maybach was waiting. “From today on, you will stay by the young master’s side,” Mr. Henderson said in a monotone voice. “You will be responsible for his care. That includes attending classes with him.” I gritted my teeth. “And if I don’t want to?” I’d saved his life. He’d bailed me out. We should be even. Why was I being forced to be his man-servant? Tyron, who had been staring out the window, spoke up coldly: “Suit yourself. You can go back to your cell. You were part of the kidnapping, after all.” Damn it… I caught his eye in the rearview mirror and gave him the middle finger. “Mr. Miller,” Mr. Henderson coughed. “Your monthly salary will be ten thousand dollars.” “How much?” I snapped my head around. “Ten thousand,” the lawyer repeated. “Room and board included?” I couldn’t believe my ears. Henderson nodded. “You will live and eat with the young master.” “Fine… deal!” I leaned back into the leather seat, trying to look dignified. I’d been a low-level thug for a year and hadn’t made even a fraction of that. Money is money. I closed my eyes to stop myself from grinning like an idiot. I didn’t see the tiny, subtle curve of Tyron’s lips. 07 A few days later, the paperwork for my “transfer” was complete. I pushed Tyron’s wheelchair through the gates of the university. In the massive lecture hall, we were the targets of every gaze. Curiosity. Contempt. Avoidance. Not a single look of kindness. A basketball suddenly flew toward Tyron’s head. I caught it mid-air. A guy sauntered over, looking like he owned the place. “I heard Henderson was called back to the main estate by Grandpa?” Henderson. The lawyer. He’d bailed me out, given me a list of rules for taking care of Tyron, and then vanished. Grandpa called him back? I felt like there was more to the story. “Tsk, tsk. Poor Tyron. You’re lower than a dog now, aren’t you?” “Watch your mouth,” I said. I threw the basketball back. I didn’t hold back on the force. The guy barely caught it, his head snapping back from the impact. “You little—who do you think you are?!” The bell rang. The guy pointed a finger at me. “Wait until after class.” “Who’s that?” I asked Tyron. “Tyler Sterling,” he said expressionlessly. So that was the “golden boy” my old boss had intended to kidnap. “Your grandfather has terrible taste,” I noted. “What?” Tyron looked at me, confused by the non-sequitur. “I mean, that guy is a total tool. Why would anyone prize him?” Tyron let out a short laugh. It was the first time I’d seen him smile since we met. He actually looked pretty good when he smiled. If only he were normal… The professor was lecturing in rapid-fire English. I couldn’t understand a single word. Bored, I started studying Tyron. He wasn’t listening either. He was just propping his head up, looking out the window. Suddenly, he turned his head. “Why are you staring?” He frowned, looking annoyed. “Because you’re good-looking.” I grinned. I wasn’t about to admit I was staring because I was lost in class. “Psychopath,” Tyron muttered. He turned away again. But I saw his ears turning red. 08 Tyler Sterling found us again that evening. I’d been called to the registrar’s office to pick up some textbooks. When I got back, Tyler and a group of guys were surrounding Tyron. Tyler had his arm around a girl. “Hey, Tyron. This is Sarah. She’s my girlfriend now. You don’t mind calling her ‘Sister-in-law,’ do you?” “Do it! Say it!” the other guys jeered. Tyron didn’t say a word. He tried to move his wheelchair, but Tyler grabbed the handles. The girl leaned down with a mocking smile. “Tyron, our engagement is over. I only have eyes for Tyler now. You’re a cripple. Did you really think you had a chance?” “Wake up, loser!” Tyler sneered, unscrewed a bottle of water, and poured it over Tyron’s head. The guys laughed. Tyron sat there, motionless. “Hey, Tyler, can we hit him?” “He’s like a mute statue. This is boring!” One guy raised his fist. Before it could land, I grabbed his wrist. I twisted it and sent him crashing to the floor. The group froze. Tyler’s face turned the color of a bruised plum. “You again!” I shoved Tyler aside and grabbed the wheelchair handles. “Get lost,” I said lazily. “When I fight, I play for keeps.” I wasn’t lying. I grew up an orphan. I’d been in hundreds of street fights. Every time, I fought like it was my last day on earth. It wasn’t that I didn’t value my life. It was because fighting was the only way I could keep it. 09 Tyler signaled two of his friends. They grabbed chairs and swung them at me. I kicked one guy in the chest, sending him flying. I dropped the other with a flurry of punches. No one else stepped forward. “Nice moves!” Tyler started clapping. He pulled a gold card from his pocket and waved it. “How much is the cripple paying you? I’ll double it. Leave him. Come work for me.” I narrowed my eyes and took two steps forward, smiling. Tyler thought I was reaching for the card. He smirked. The next second, I buried my fist in his gut. The gold card hit the floor. I ground it into the dirt with my heel. “I told you. Watch your mouth.” As the girl screamed, Tyler doubled over, gasping for air. I grabbed him by the collar. “If you ever call him that again, I’ll break both your legs.” I called Tyron “Little Cripple” in my head all the time, but I couldn’t stand hearing anyone else say it.

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I was dating a guy, but I didn’t know he was actually twins. The two of them took turns going on dates with me, playing me for a fool. Until today, the younger brother ordered a dish as a joke and asked me: “Sister, did you forget that I’m allergic to this?” My expression didn’t change: “Isn’t your brother the one who is allergic to this?” 01 After I said that, there was a long silence across the table. I realized belatedly: “Did you two not agree on who was coming today?” Leo’s smile froze on his face, and his beautiful peach-blossom eyes already carried a hint of displeasure: “Sister, you knew there were two of us?” Although Leo and Lucas looked exactly the same and were good at disguising themselves, it was normal for ordinary people not to be able to tell them apart. But I wasn’t normal. I could see labels. Invisible ones. The one with ‘Leo’ floating above his head was the younger brother. The one with ‘Lucas’ floating above his head was the older brother. Today, it was Leo who showed up. Leo was a bit more clingy. I understood. He was younger, it was perfectly normal. 02 Leo seemed a bit mentally unstable. I considerately cut the date short. Looking at the devastated handsome boy, I affectionately patted his cheek and dropped a kiss on his lips: “Alright, why do you look like the sky is falling? “Go back and have a good talk with your brother about who’s coming tomorrow.” Just two of them… Sister can handle it. 03 What are you thinking? I was talking about hot dogs. 04 The guy selling hot dogs was kind of handsome. Every time I passed by, I’d stare for a bit: “Hey kid, got a girlfriend?” The kid smiled, not knowing what he was thinking of. His eyes curved, his smile bright with pearly white teeth: “Sister, aren’t two boyfriends enough for you?” Oh, he actually knew? I brushed my long hair back, looking at my fingers glowing under the light: “One more wouldn’t hurt.” His response was to place two hot dogs in my hand. I originally thought Lucas and Leo would need a couple of days to figure things out. But when I got back to my apartment building, someone was already waiting downstairs. The fluorescent label glowed in the dark. Lucas. As soon as I walked up to him, he grabbed my hand. Lucas kissed me fiercely. Only when I couldn’t take it anymore and pushed him slightly did he let go. The older brother was a bit more domineering. I licked my lips and smiled: “Have you two figured out how to explain this to me? “Lucas, for so long, did you two think I was an idiot? “If I hadn’t accidentally found out, were you planning to keep playing me?” The wind downstairs wasn’t strong, but the night air was still a bit chilly. I was wearing a black slip mermaid dress, and my exposed shoulders felt the chill. Lucas silently draped his jacket over me: “It’s windy here. Let’s go upstairs to talk, okay?” 05 When I was looking at apartments, Lucas was the one who came with me. He was quite familiar with the layout of the room. As soon as we entered, he turned on the dim lights. Only then did I see clearly what Lucas was wearing. I rarely saw Lucas in formal wear, and Leo had never worn it either. But today, Lucas was wearing a black shirt, and I was wearing his suit jacket. Lucas’s eyes darkened, recalling my question downstairs. He admitted his mistake with a good attitude, saying it was both of their faults. “But Evelyn.” Lucas wrapped his arm around my waist, picked me up, and kissed my ear: “I still love you. “Sister, let’s go buy a house tomorrow. We’ll put it in your name. Don’t be mad, okay?” Playing the obsessive pure-love card. I like it very much, older brother. My newly changed bedsheets smelled of lavender. Lucas stood by the bed, giving me a deep look, then went to the bathroom to take a shower. “Sister, wait for me a moment.” Taking advantage of his shower, I relaxed my whole body on the bed. Being the object of affection for so many younger men at the same time was quite tiring. The hot dog guy I just added on my phone sent a message: [Sister, what are your requirements for a boyfriend?] [Young, and good in bed.] I teased him: [Want to come find me?] I heard noises from Lucas’s side. I put my phone face down and looked up at him. His and Leo’s clothes were over there, but Lucas only had a towel wrapped around him. The undried water droplets slid down his distinct six-pack abs into the depths. I swallowed hard, remembering how Lucas used to be so timid in bed when he didn’t know his place. “Evelyn, when did you realize we weren’t the same person?” The one I was dating was Lucas. I also knew he had a twin brother, Leo. But who would have thought they’d switch places midway through the relationship? It felt great. I didn’t speak, because Lucas didn’t give me a chance to. I felt the bed sink slightly, and Lucas had already pulled me into his arms and kissed me. “No matter when you recognized me, if you only sleep with me, does that mean you like me a little more?” 06 When I learned that I was going to date someone from the Sterling family, the one I initially chose wasn’t Lucas. The older brother was domineering and liked to be forceful. The younger brother was gentle and clingy, loved to act spoiled, and was all about pure love. The brother I originally preferred should have been Leo, that kid. At a banquet, the first one I interacted with was also the younger brother. It was a wealthy socialite’s birthday party. I wasn’t on good terms with her, so I sat on the second-floor observation deck. The deck was entwined with rose vines. When I went up, there should have been only me. But I saw someone wearing a silver silk pajama shirt, revealing exquisite and beautiful collarbones. A glass of red wine was on the tray, and he was looking down, tinkering with an old, battered radio. At a formal banquet, dressing so casually, as if he had just walked out of his bedroom and would go to sleep the next second. I suddenly remembered my cousin mentioning that her brother had been staying at this villa recently. A brother this good-looking, why didn’t she ever mention him? I absentmindedly complained about my cousin and sat down next to him. Leo looked up at me, then lowered his head to continue fumbling with his radio. After a long while, not knowing whether he succeeded or failed, he set the radio aside and took a sip of red wine. The sound from the radio faltered for a moment, then began playing a smooth melody. Leo proactively leaned closer to me. As he bent over, his loose neckline slipped down, revealing a generous amount of skin. “Sister, you look familiar. Want a kiss?” 07 Up close, Leo’s face was completely exposed to my sight. No matter how similar twins are, there will always be differences. With identical faces, Leo’s face was just a bit more obedient. He had cool, pale skin, and his beautiful peach-blossom eyes held no lust, yet he clearly said such a seductive thing. I leaned back slightly, my gaze deliberately falling on his exposed chest, and smiled shyly: “Where should I kiss?” The young man suddenly fell silent. I saw his ears turn red under the light. Leo unconsciously touched his nose and mumbled. “Anywhere is fine.” When Leo said his first sentence, I suddenly realized that I hadn’t met him for the first time today. When Leo was at State University, I ran into him when I accompanied my cousin there to familiarize herself with the campus beforehand. In a philosophy class, in a large lecture hall, after my cousin and I sat in the very back row, I kept my head down replying to messages. When I looked up again, there was suddenly an extra person in the empty seat in front of me. Just from his back, I could tell he was very handsome from the front. My heart fluttered for a moment, thinking about the good things netizens said about men. After class, my cousin yelled and ran out. I didn’t have anything to pack up, but I still lagged half a beat behind this classmate. After getting a clear look at his face in the corridor, I followed him in my high heels. Cornering him, I looked at his fluttering eyelashes and spoke in a breathy, sweet voice: “Classmate, is it convenient to add you on WeChat?” “It’s not convenient.” Leo rejected me, blushing. “I don’t have WeChat.” “Then let’s kiss, I see you have a mouth.” “…” Long after Leo added me on WeChat, I accidentally saw the nickname this kid gave me. “Kissing Sister.” 08 Lucas seemed to notice my mind wandering, and he bit my collarbone in dissatisfaction. “Evelyn, focus.” The young man’s back was broad and powerful. I ran my long fingers over it, only feeling a thin layer of sweat. Probably knowing that I was easiest to talk to in bed, Lucas rambled on and on in my ear. I spaced out, only catching intermittent declarations of love. And: “A thousand mistakes, ten thousand mistakes, it’s all my and Leo’s fault, mostly Leo’s fault. Sister, please don’t be mad at me.” After you’re done being mad at him, you can’t be mad at me either. I eventually lost consciousness and didn’t wake up until the next morning. Lucas probably had class. He left me a message on my phone: [There’s soup you like in the kitchen. Remember to heat it up before you drink it when you wake up.] Not bad, making time to sleep with me even with classes. I rubbed my aching waist and collapsed back onto the bed. Besides Lucas’s message, there were others. Leo sent the most. He started by apologizing on WeChat, saying he shouldn’t have done that, he just liked me too much. Later, realizing he couldn’t reach Lucas either, he guessed Lucas’s whereabouts almost without thinking. After cursing Lucas thirteen times, he pitifully asked me: [Sister, even so, can you really not date two people? [Sister… I really like you. [Everything Lucas can do, I can do too. Sister, just look at me, okay…] … Amidst Leo’s message bombardment, there was another message. It was still from the kid selling hot dogs. He replied to my joking message: [That won’t work, I’m not good at anything else, only roasting hot dogs.] I could almost imagine, in the night, under the streetlights. That kid wearing a mask standing by the machine, eyes half-closed, casually replying to my message. He might even be calling me frivolous and loose. 09 My cousin asked me out for drinks. She probably heard that I caught her two brothers taking turns dating me. Excitedly ordering a strong drink for me, she comforted me: “A man’s mistake, we shouldn’t blame ourselves oh~” I danced even harder than her, laughing flamboyantly. A long time ago, when I first returned to the city, no one had heard that the Vance family had such a glamorous and cold eldest daughter. Later, after getting familiar with the wealthy circles, almost everyone knew I wasn’t easy to date. It was only my cousin and her dad, arrogant and thinking that Lucas and Leo could tame me, who willingly let the Vance family and the Sterling Group reach a long-term partnership. But they didn’t expect that both sons would fall for me. After just one drink, I went to the restroom. Although I look like I can drink, I’m actually a lightweight. Going to the restroom to clear the smell of alcohol, I was preparing to go back. The hallway leading outside from the restroom had all its lights on. The person coming towards me looked very familiar. I collected my thoughts and met those half-smiling eyes: “Roasted hot dogs?” The other person: “…” Caleb looked down at his clothes: “I’m supposed to be an escort today, miss.” He was wearing a standard suit uniform that outlined a drool-worthy physique. I grabbed his tie, only then realizing that the person in front of me seemed terrifyingly tall. “Aren’t you saying you only know how to roast hot dogs?” Caleb: “No choice, don’t want to get slept with, can only sell my labor.” I heard what he was getting at, let go with a laugh, and without a second glance, walked away in my high heels. I told my cousin someone was coming to pick me up. She was in the middle of having fun and asked: “The older one or the younger one?” After getting my answer, she waved me off relievedly. Is Leo really more trustworthy than Lucas? I walked out and saw Leo’s car parked there. He stood in front of the car, holding a large bouquet of roses. Cappuccino roses, Lucas had also given them to me not long ago. This kid, really, copies his brother in everything. Seeing me come out, Leo walked over quickly. “Sister, you look beautiful today too.” He no longer had to disguise himself with Lucas’s personality, so he openly turned into a sunny golden retriever in front of me. I couldn’t help but smile too, and got into the passenger seat: “Leo, where are you taking me today?” After the sports car sped away, Caleb, who chased after me, looked self-deprecatingly at the lemon juice for hangovers in his hand. His eyes darkened instantly, and he tilted his head back, drinking it all in one gulp. No change in expression. “Evelyn, I shouldn’t have been soft on you.” 10 Leo took me to the East Mountain in the suburbs, an area that had been developing very well recently, with hot spring hotels and outdoor picnics. He considerately only booked one room. Halfway there, the alcohol from the one drink I had hit me, and I suddenly felt lazy. Leo carried me back on his back. I lay on his back, smelling the perfume he specifically sprayed for meeting me, my favorite one. In a flash, I remembered the moon from a night many years ago. “Leo.” I mumbled: “I actually like you quite a bit.” But who says a sister can only have one? Leo mumbled an acknowledgment: “Yeah, I know.” The room he booked had a starry sky ceiling. Lying on the bed, I buried myself entirely in Leo’s arms. Actually, I had been quite tired these past few days. If it were Lucas holding me, he probably would have gotten aroused in no time. But Leo just let out a muffled groan, hugged me tighter, and didn’t make any further moves. I had a rare, good night’s sleep. I dreamed of the time before I returned to the city. 11 I didn’t grow up in the city, but in a smaller town. And when I was in that smaller town, I was far from what I look like now. Caleb was someone I met in that smaller town. When I saw him, he was in the pool hall downstairs, wearing a black hoodie, holding a cue stick, biting a cigarette, and looking at me with his head tilted. His messy hair slightly covered his eyes. Caleb grabbed his hair with one hand, his starry eyes holding a smile: “Sis, wanna play a game?” I said no, and Caleb grabbed my hand. His hands were cold, but also hot. When he held my hand, the joints were distinct, and even the surrounding skin felt burning hot. “Sister, lift your waist.” . When I woke up in Leo’s arms, it was almost noon. He ordered breakfast over the phone, then buried his whole body in my arms. “Sister, why didn’t you choose me from the beginning? “Am I really that much worse than Lucas?” Obviously born on the same day, basically exactly the same, even identical looks. When standing together, everyone would choose Lucas. Leo was truly a bit depressed, resting near my neck, the heat surging up bit by bit. I closed my eyes comfortably. Only kids make choices. I said: “I still like you better, Leo.” I want both. 12 The private hot spring Leo booked. He excitedly wanted to take me in. I couldn’t find the words: “Say it a bit more elegantly.” Leo: “Then I want to share a private bath with sister.” Lucas appeared more often in the company, developing a decisive CEO persona. Even in bed, Lucas’s movements were fast and hard. Leo was different. He was very gentle, usually clingy and sweet. Now in the spring, he still rubbed gently and slowly, bit by bit. I gasped, glaring at him: “Hurry up.” The only response was a soft chuckle. Leo was clingy and sweet: “Does sister not like it this way?” I like it. I lowered my eyes and kissed Leo’s face: “I knew you guys only liked this.” “Leo, do you really like me?” The movements finally sped up, and Leo kissed me fiercely. “Evelyn. “Evelyn. “Sister, I like you so much.”

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My brother had been depressed lately because his girlfriend was in debt. I cautiously asked him what was wrong. He sneered, “Like I could explain it to an idiot like you. You wouldn’t get it.” But I wasn’t an idiot. I understood. So, when my biological parents and older brother drove their luxury SUVs into our rundown rural town to pick me up… I took five thousand dollars from them. “Caleb. Here’s the money.” The money you wanted so desperately, I leave it to you. As for the family I always yearned for—they are finally right here beside me. 1 I held the bank card out right in front of Caleb’s face. He was slumped in a beaten-up armchair, his eyes hollow, aggressively running his hands through his hair. Seeing my outstretched hand, he didn’t even look closely at what I was holding. He just slapped it away. My fingers went numb from the strike. The silver card slipped from my grasp, clattering into the corner against the peeling wallpaper. “Hiss—” I drew in a sharp breath. My thumb instinctively rubbed against my other knuckles, which were already swelling red. Hearing my voice, Caleb snapped his head up. Like a man waking from a nightmare, he jolted out of the chair. “Lily…” A flash of panic crossed his eyes, but it was immediately swallowed by that familiar, suffocating irritation. “Didn’t I tell you to stop bothering me?! You’re a stutterer, but are you deaf now, too?” “I… brought you… money!” I pointed at the card in the corner. He still didn’t spare it a single glance. He just kept venting his rage. “Money, money, money! What money could you possibly have? Where did you get it? Are you selling yourself or your organs?” His manic energy flared up again. He grabbed me by the shoulders and shook me hard. “Lily, can you just give me a break? Didn’t I tell you to go stay at someone else’s house for a few days? Mrs. Higgins already said yes! Go stay with her! Don’t come back! Stop bothering me!” My shoulders ached under his grip. I couldn’t help but shove him back hard. He didn’t budge. “I won’t… go to… her house… I won’t!” He gritted his teeth, looking like he was holding back a storm. Only when I winced in pain did he finally let go. “You’re going whether you want to or not. You’re leaving right—” “Caleb! Did you get the money?” Chloe’s voice echoed from the front yard. Caleb froze, instinctively pulling me behind him to hide me. A girl with dyed red hair and distressed denim shorts blew in like a hurricane. The excited gleam in her eyes vanished the second she saw me standing behind him. She rolled her eyes at me. Then, she pushed Caleb away from the doorway and into the bedroom. “Caleb, did you see? There are so many fancy cars out in the town square! Oh my god, I’ve never seen cars that long and shiny!” “Oh… I, uh, I haven’t been outside. Didn’t see them.” Caleb sounded distracted. But Chloe didn’t care. She kept talking. “So, did you scrape together the five grand?” The room went dead silent. I lowered my eyes, walked over to the corner, picked up the card, wiped off the dust, and placed it neatly on the table. “Say something! Caleb!” “I… I don’t have it yet. But I’ll figure it out. I promise!” Chloe’s voice went shrill. “The deadline is tomorrow! And you still don’t have it?! Do you want to watch them drag me away? Caleb, stop being such a useless coward!” “I said I’ll figure it out!” “What is there to figure out?! If you can’t get it… then we go back to my original plan. Let your sister go with them—” “No!” Caleb’s piercing roar tore through the bedroom door. I turned a deaf ear to it all. I picked up the framed photo sitting on the living room mantel, carefully wiping the glass with my sleeve. My voice was barely a whisper. “Mom… Lily is leaving now.” I knelt down and pressed my fingers to my lips, then to her picture, three times. The argument in the bedroom was still raging. I pushed the front door open, taking one last look at the crumbling old house I had lived in for thirteen years. Then, I turned my back and ran toward the edge of town as fast as my legs could carry me. 2 Caleb and I were both orphans taken in by Mom. Specifically, Caleb was brought home after his parents died in a car crash. I was different. She paid three hundred dollars to buy me from a ring of traffickers. I was only four or five at the time. I have no idea what horrors I endured while with them. I had a fever so high I was delirious. I was practically at death’s door. Mom had a heart of gold. She emptied her meager savings to buy my life. Everyone in town gossiped. A little girl, sick to the bone. They said my real parents probably threw me away on purpose. They said Mom was a fool for spending money on a broken girl who couldn’t even carry on a family name. Mom just smiled and said nothing. She took care of me with everything she had. Three days later, my fever broke. But my memories of everything before that were gone. From that day on, a widow, a five-year-old orphaned boy, and a sickly little girl became a family. Caleb… He used to be so good. He always smiled at me. He never raised his voice. He never called me an idiot. He never mocked my stutter. My big brother used to ride his tall bicycle, letting me sit on the back as we coasted through the golden wheat fields to bring Mom her lunch while she worked. Caleb was only a year older than me. His short little legs could barely reach the pedals. He had to stand up, leaning into the wind, pedaling with all his might across the dirt paths. I would hold the lunchbox, plucking two wildflowers along the way. One for me, one for him. From across the vast field, Mom would wave her hand vigorously. “Caleb, Lily! Ride slow! Take it slow!” Take it slow. Yes. We should have taken it slow. We grew up too fast… Later in life, I would return to that sun-drenched, floral-scented afternoon in countless dreams. I would tell Caleb over and over: “Brother, ride slower. Just a little slower.” But how could a little girl ever outrun time? When the dream ended, I was still lying on the cold, hard floor of our living room. I looked up, and there was Mom’s black-and-white portrait. I turned my head, and there was my brother’s tightly locked door. It had been three years since Mom died of illness. With the help of Pastor Thomas, Caleb and I had managed to finish middle school. Caleb said he was going to the city to find work so he could pay for my high school tuition. I begged to go with him, but he sternly refused. “The city is full of dangerous people. I’m not risking our Lily getting taken away again.” He pinched my cheek. “Everyone knows everyone here in town. It’s safe. You stay here and wait for me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get to go to school!” The rattling Greyhound bus pulled away. Two months later, he returned. But he wasn’t alone. He brought back a strange girl. She had brightly dyed hair, a nose ring, a lip piercing, and heavy makeup. She was pretty, but she was mean. Caleb looked sheepish and introduced her as his girlfriend, Chloe. Chloe was a city kid whose parents had gone through a messy divorce, leaving her to fend for herself. Nobody even cared that she had followed a boy back to a town in the middle of nowhere. And Caleb was already sixteen. In a forgotten town like ours, some kids were already fathers at that age. After a moment of shock, I politely called her “Chloe.” But for some reason, Chloe despised me from day one. And I was terrified of her. She called me an idiot. She called me a stuttering freak. Caleb got into a huge fight with her over it once. But when she packed her bags and threatened to leave, he broke down crying, hugging her and begging for forgiveness. What was I thinking back then? I forget. I only remember standing in the shadow of the wooden doorframe. Looking at Chloe’s triumphant, mocking eyes. I felt so cold, like I had been plunged into freezing water. I knew then that my life was about to get very, very hard. 3 By the time I realized Caleb was skipping work, I was in my sophomore year. I found him in a smoky, rundown gaming lounge. He looked like someone I didn’t even know. A cigarette hanging from his lips, his arm wrapped around Chloe, his fingers violently smashing a keyboard as a stream of foul curses spilled from his mouth. My hand tightened around the strap of my backpack, trembling slightly. “Caleb.” He had his headset on and didn’t hear me. But Chloe did. She turned around and glared at me with pure annoyance. She leaned closer to Caleb. She put a finger to her lips, motioning for me to shut up. Then, she yanked Caleb’s headset off. “Babe, what do you think your idiot sister is doing right now?” Caleb paused. I stood to the side, watching his profile. For a split second, I thought I saw a flicker of guilt. But it vanished instantly. He clicked his tongue, annoyed, and reached for the headset. “Going to school, I guess. What else would she do?” “Oh~ Right. But look, she’s practically failing anyway. Didn’t you tell me she had a bad fever as a kid? Maybe it fried her brain! Is there really any point in paying for her to keep going?” “She’s gotta go to school. What else is she gonna do? She’s too young to work full-time!” He ran a hand roughly through his hair, clearly hating the conversation, and moved to put the headset back on. Chloe was relentless. She yanked it away again. “I don’t care! The money you give her for lunch every month is enough to buy those boots I wanted. You are not giving her any more money!” “What, you want me to let her starve?” “She’s not even your real sister! Why are you bending over backward for her? People are going to think you’re raising her to be your own little wife!” Chloe laughed, rolling her eyes. Caleb’s frown deepened. He gritted his teeth and turned his head, about to snap back, when he saw me standing there, clutching my backpack, looking lost. In an instant, whatever he was going to say died in his throat. I didn’t know why he was so angry. I only know that without a word, he grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the lounge. “Lily! Are you out of your damn mind?! Who told you to come here? What do you want?!” “I came… to find you. Your boss… said you haven’t been… to work… in days.” “None of your business! I bust my ass to pay for your school! If you don’t want to go, then get out and get a job!” My wrist burned from his grip. I mumbled, terrified, “I don’t… need… your money anymore. I got… a scholarship… and financial aid. And I have… a part-time job… I—” “So what?! You don’t need me anymore! I’m not good enough for you! I don’t deserve to be your brother, is that it?! Then why the hell are you looking for me?!” His grip tightened painfully. He glared at me, his eyes swirling with emotions I couldn’t decipher. We stood there in a tense deadlock for what felt like hours. Then, I heard him say: “Lily, I wish I wasn’t your brother.” … 4 I ran toward the edge of town like my life depended on it. I wanted to leave all those dark, suffocating memories behind. But the tears fell anyway, blurring everything in sight. I was sprinting purely on instinct and memory. Without looking, my foot caught on a jagged rock, and I pitched forward, slamming hard into the dirt. “Ah—!” “Lily!” “Lily!” “Sweetheart!” My scream tangled with several frantic, desperate shouts. But the sharp pain of hitting the ground never came. A young man, who looked startlingly like me, caught me firmly in his arms. “Are you okay?!” He had scraped his own knees bloody sliding to catch me, but his first thought was my safety. “Lily, Arthur, are you two alright?! Get up, get up!” A well-dressed couple rushed over, pulling us up and looking us over with frantic concern. I stood frozen in place, utterly bewildered. My mind was racing: Great. I ruined everything again. I’m causing trouble for strangers… They’re definitely going to hate me now. But the scolding and disgust I expected never came. Seeing that Arthur and I were both physically fine, the woman pulled me into a desperate, crushing hug. “Lily, you scared me half to death. Why are you crying? Are you hurt somewhere? Don’t cry, it’s okay, we’ll go straight to the hospital!” I shook my head wildly. “N-no… I don’t… need… to go… to a h-hospital!” I bit my lip so hard I tasted copper. I was terrified they would hear my stutter. Because of my intense shame, I hadn’t spoken to strangers in a very long time. Every time I tried, even if the other person didn’t react badly, my mind would flash back to Caleb and Chloe’s mocking, disgusted eyes. Over time, I spoke less and less. But silence doesn’t cure a stutter. It only makes the anxiety worse. Now, the mere thought of speaking made my palms sweat and my face burn. I kept my head bowed, praying they wouldn’t notice. Thankfully, the three of them just exchanged a quick glance and seamlessly changed the subject, pretending nothing was wrong. “Lily, come on, get in the car. We’re going home!” Arthur opened the door of the SUV, smiling warmly. But as I looked up, I saw the blood trickling down his knee. Flustered, I unzipped my faded canvas bag, pulled out a band-aid, and held it out to him. He blinked, surprised. Then his smile turned incredibly soft. “My sister is so thoughtful. Carrying band-aids with you everywhere.” My heart gave a violent tremor. I quickly curled my fingers inward. I didn’t want him to see the countless little cuts and callouses on my hands. The three of them had such beautiful, flawless hands. Even the older man—my biological father—had clean, manicured fingers. But I spent my life chopping firewood, scrubbing clothes by hand, and washing dishes at the school cafeteria. Even in the summer, my hands were covered in tiny, stinging cuts that burned whenever I sweated. He noticed. I saw his eyes lock onto my hands. But he didn’t recoil. He just quickly looked away to spare my feelings. As the car started, I caught Arthur’s eyes in the rearview mirror. His gaze had turned sharp, almost predatory, as he stared back at the town. He let out a dark, cynical scoff. He slammed his foot on the gas, kicking up a cloud of dust. Leaving my thirteen years of misery in the rearview mirror. Faintly, over the roar of the engine, I heard someone screaming: “Lily!” 5 I didn’t look back. I let Mrs. Sterling—my mother—cover my ears as I fell asleep against her chest. When I woke up, the car was parked outside a massive, sprawling estate. The first person I saw was a young woman standing on the porch. She wore a tailored dress, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders like silk, making her look incredibly elegant and gentle. I was wondering who she was when Arthur shattered my anxiety with a single sentence. He said, “Lily, this is my fiancée, Sarah. You can call her sister!” You can call her sister… In an instant, I was transported back to the day I met Chloe. A tidal wave of dark memories crashed over me, and my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. My mother, still holding me, instantly felt it. She looked down in panic. “Lily? What’s wrong? Are you feeling sick?” I shook my head rapidly and forced a desperate, pleasing smile at Sarah. “Hi… Sarah.” Unlike my first meeting with Chloe, Sarah’s eyes sparkled as she looked at me. She looked absolutely thrilled. “I’ve been waiting so long for you! This is wonderful! Lily, your family is finally whole again!” She looked up at Arthur, and both of their eyes welled up with tears. Arthur wiped his face. “Alright, alright, let’s not stand on the porch crying. Lily, come inside and see if you like your room!” Before I could process what was happening, the two of them took my hands and led me to a bedroom on the second floor. It was breathtaking. A massive, incredibly soft bed. A beautiful vanity. And—for the first time in my life—my very own closet and a pristine desk. The afternoon sun poured through the massive windows, making the whole room glow. It felt like a dream. “Is… is this… all for me?” Sarah nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! But if there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it right now!” Her face fell slightly, looking guilty. “I’m so sorry, Lily. Your mom and dad and Arthur rushed out to get you, so I was the only one left to set up your room. I didn’t know what you liked, so I just guessed. If you hate any of it, tell me and we’ll throw it out today!” I hurriedly interrupted her. “I… I love it. Thank you… Sarah.” Her cheeks instantly flushed bright red. She suddenly elbowed Arthur hard in the ribs. “This is your fault! Why did you tell her to call me Sarah like we’re formal?” “What else is she supposed to call you?” “We’re not even married yet! Ugh! Ignore him, Lily, just call me Sarah!” The girl, blushing furiously, lightly stepped on Arthur’s foot. Arthur dramatically crouched down. “Lily, save me, my fiancée is trying to assassinate me!” “Stop joking around, you’re going to scare her!” The two of them laughed and bickered playfully. I stood frozen in the doorway. My mind was entirely blank, save for one thought: Human relationships can actually… be this healthy? Noticing I had gone quiet, they immediately stopped messing around and returned to my side. “Lily, rest for a bit. Later, Arthur and I will show you around the house. Think about anything else you might need, and I’ll make your brother go buy it immediately!” Before I could answer, rapid footsteps thundered up the stairs. A bright, energetic male voice rang out: “Mr. and Mrs. Sterling! Arthur! Did you get Lily?!” I froze. I remembered that voice. He was the one who found me. He told me his name was… Mason Caldwell! 6 When Mason Caldwell found me, I was standing at the edge of the river. One foot was already hovering over the rushing water. His raw, throat-tearing scream made me pause. The next second, someone grabbed the back of my faded jacket and violently yanked me backward into the mud. The boy was panting heavily, staring at my face in utter disbelief. His hands were shaking worse than mine. He said: “I finally… found you.” He told me he was representing his family’s corporate foundation, doing charity work in our forgotten little county. They were supposed to sponsor a few high school students. But when he looked at the list of low-income students and saw my photo, he recognized me. He forced his teachers to bring him straight to my village. “Oh my god, Lily, do you know? You are a spitting image of Mrs. Sterling!” “We’ve been—I mean, your real parents and your brother have been looking for you non-stop. We never gave up on you!” “I finally found you! Do you remember me? We played together every single day when we were little! It’s me! Mason! Do you remember?!” The frantic joy and crushing sorrow in his eyes terrified me. Because I really, truly… couldn’t remember a single thing before I was four. He wanted to take me away right then and there. But I was terrified… what if he had the wrong person? I didn’t want to be accused of being a con artist, and I couldn’t survive being abandoned again. So I gave him two strands of my hair and told him to do a DNA test with the Sterling family. Only when the results were absolute did my real family come to get me. Now, Mason sprinted up the stairs like a golden retriever. The moment he saw me, a blindingly bright smile broke across his face. “Lily! Lily! You’re home!” He was so excited, but halfway down the hall, Arthur grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. “Artie? What gives?!” “What gives is that you’re too loud! You’re gonna scare my sister, idiot!” Mason looked indignant. “I found her first, okay?! I brought her back!” He looked at me, his eyes practically sparkling with expectation. My entire body went stiff. Terrified he would bring up the river, I nodded frantically. “Y-yes. It… it was you!” “See?! Don’t be mad at me, Lily! I wanted to go with them to pick you up, but Artie made me stay behind to handle your school transfer paperwork! That’s why I wasn’t there!” He glared at Arthur while he explained. I waved my hands anxiously. “I’m not… mad!” How could I be mad? I was just… in a daze. Everything here was so beautiful it felt completely unreal. Loving parents, a warm and protective brother and sister-in-law, a friend who genuinely cared about me… Did I really get to have this? Was this a dream? A hallucination before I hit the water? The thought was so horrifying that my head began to throb violently. The room started spinning. The last thing I heard was Sarah’s scream: “Lily! What’s wrong?!” 7 She caught me as I collapsed. “She’s burning up! Arthur, call a doctor right now!” “Lily!” “Mom, Dad, don’t panic, I’m calling them!” … “Why is she sweating so much, my poor baby?” “Everyone out, except Sarah!” “Sarah, help me hold her up. I need to wipe her down with alcohol to break the fever.” Through the haze of delirium, I heard my mother and Sarah’s voices. Someone was unbuttoning my shirt. Their movements and voices were incredibly gentle. But my body acted on pure reflex. I swatted her hand away violently. I clutched my collar in a death grip, refusing to let go. “Oh! Mrs. Sterling, what’s wrong with her? She’s turning pale!” “Lily?” The two gentle voices faded into the background. Replacing them in my mind was Chloe’s sickeningly sweet, mocking laughter: “Well, well, I didn’t know the village idiot had such a nice body! No wonder you’re so good at seducing men!” “Hold still! I’m just taking a few pictures. I’ll even give you a cut of the money when I sell them!” “Ouch! You little btch, did you just hit me?! Do you have a death wish?!”* It was the summer before my freshman year. Caleb and Chloe had explicitly said they were leaving town for a few days. But in the dead of night, while I was sleeping, Chloe kicked my bedroom door open. I scrambled to put my clothes on, but she had her phone camera pointed right at me… She didn’t get the pictures. Because for the first time in my life, I fought back. And for the first time in my life, I was beaten until my nose bled for hours. When Caleb came back the next day, Chloe played the victim. She said I tried to smash her phone. Caleb looked at my bruised, swollen face and my blood-stained shirt, and stayed silent for a long time. “Caleb… she… she tried to… take pictures—” “Chloe, I’ll work extra shifts. I’ll buy you a new phone. Just drop it… Lily, can you just stop causing trouble for five minutes?” Every word I wanted to say died in my throat. All that remained was the trauma of that night, festering like an open wound. From that day on, I developed a severe aversion to being touched. I would wake up in cold sweats, paranoid that Chloe was recording me. I had nightmares of her tearing my clothes off. I refused to sleep in the same room as her ever again. There were only two bedrooms in the house. Chloe took one. Caleb took the other. I slept on the hard floor in the living room. No matter how furiously Caleb cursed at me for being “weird” and “stubborn,” I refused to go back into that room. … “Get away! Don’t touch me! Don’t film me! Get away! Don’t… rip my clothes!” I clutched my collar, my entire body violently shivering. The fever made my teeth chatter so loudly it echoed in the room. Someone was crying. Two suppressed sobs floated near my ears. Warm tears splashed onto my neck. “Lily, don’t be scared, it’s okay, it’s okay, we won’t touch your clothes!” “My baby! Lily!” The sobbing grew louder. “My sweet girl, there’s nothing to be afraid of anymore. You’re home. Mommy will protect you…” The gentle woman’s voice gradually cut through the haze, overpowering the ghosts in my memories. A strange, unfamiliar sense of safety washed over me. My head grew impossibly heavy, and I slipped entirely into darkness. When I woke up again, the first thing I saw was an IV bag hanging above my head. My mother and Sarah were both sitting by the bed. Their eyes were swollen and red, like they had been crying for hours. I was just about to speak when Arthur’s furious, low roar bled through the door from the hallway: “He has the nerve to call the police?! What does he mean, ‘his sister’?! Does he even deserve to say that?! I haven’t even had the time to go after him for the background check I pulled today! Fine! If Caleb wants to come here, let him come! I’ll welcome him personally!” The IV stand rattled as I flinched. The two women jolted, looking up to see me shivering, pale as a ghost. Sarah and Mom exchanged a panicked look and bolted for the door. “Arthur, shut up! Lily is awake!” … The shouting outside stopped instantly. After a long, suffocating silence, Arthur pushed the door open. He walked in slowly, hesitantly. The sweat of anxiety on his forehead dripped onto his crisp dress shirt. “Lily.” Arthur crouched slowly by my bed and reached out, gently pressing his palm to my forehead. His voice was soft, but laced with iron: “Don’t be afraid. Your big brother is going to protect you. From now on, you never have to be afraid of anything again.”

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When college started, my parents bought me a $3,000 mattress. But the moment it entered the dorm, my roommate completely lost her mind. “Three thousand dollars? Is this mattress going to guarantee you a spot in grad school or turn you into a literal angel?” She looked at my new mattress like it was covered in filth, her lips curling in disgust. “This kind of extravagant, corrupt behavior is exactly what we college students need to eradicate!” “Our dorm is trying to win the ‘Model Room’ award, and you’re going to ruin our reputation!” I picked at my ear and looked at her like she was an idiot. “I spent my own money. What the hell does it have to do with you?” I couldn’t be bothered to argue with her, so I went home for the weekend. When I came back, my bed was gone. In its place was a bare, wooden board. And my roommate was standing there, lost in her grand delusion of being a “student leader ridding the people of evil.” “I took care of the mattress for you. I cut out the memory foam and gave it to some low-income students to use as seat cushions, and I gave the springs to the art department for an installation project. Upcycling!” “I’ve also applied with the Resident Advisor to manage your scholarship and allowance from now on, to help you develop the good habit of being frugal.” I laughed out of sheer anger. Right in front of her, I dialed 911. You want to be a leader that badly? Let me send you to the police station to experience what real communal living is like. 1. On the first day of college, my parents insisted on helping me move into the dorm, bringing along the mattress they had ordered well in advance. When the movers hauled the beautifully packaged mattress into the four-person dorm room, the space instantly felt a bit cramped. My other two roommates, Lily and Mia, just looked on with curiosity. Only Chloe, who had the bed by the window, eyed my parents’ clothes critically from the moment we walked in. Finally, her gaze landed on the brand logo of the mattress. My dad directed the movers to unwrap it and place it securely on my bed frame, then laid out the bedding he had personally picked out. “Evelyn, take good care of yourself at school. If you need more money, just let me know,” my mom said, anxiously organizing my desk. “The dorm is a bit basic, so just make do for now. I’ve already asked your dad to look at apartments near the campus.” I smiled and pushed them toward the door. “I know, I know. You guys head back now. I can handle myself.” After seeing my parents off, I turned around and met Chloe’s eyes. Her gaze was like a loaded gun, ready to fire and draw blood. She held a student handbook and slowly sauntered over to my bed, pressing down hard on the brand-new mattress. “Evelyn, right? I’m the Room Captain, and I’m also on the Disciplinary Committee of the Student Government. My name is Chloe.” With every title she listed, her chin lifted an inch higher. I nodded, considering that a greeting. But she wouldn’t let it go, pointing at my mattress, her voice suddenly rising. “This mattress must have cost a fortune, right?” I didn’t like her interrogative tone, so I replied flatly. “It’s okay. My parents got it for me.” “Okay?” Chloe scoffed as if she’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “I know this brand. The cheapest one is four figures. Looking at the thickness and style of this one, it’s gotta be at least three thousand dollars, right?” Her voice was so loud that Lily and Mia stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I frowned, feeling annoyed. “And so?” “And so?” Chloe slammed her hand on the desk, her face turning red. “Evelyn, do you even know what college is for? College is a place for you to learn and develop a humble character, not a place to show off your wealth!” “A three thousand dollar mattress? Is sleeping on that going to get you into a top grad program or turn you into a god?” She spoke with righteous indignation, as if I had committed some heinous crime. “If word gets out about this extravagant, corrupt behavior, think of the impact it will have on our school’s reputation!” “As a student leader, I absolutely cannot tolerate this kind of thing happening!” I was genuinely amused by her impassioned speech. “I spent my own money to buy something to sleep on. How does that affect you?” “If you don’t like it, don’t look at it. If you think it’s hindering your ascension to godhood, you can always request a room transfer.” Chloe’s face instantly turned a sickly shade of green. “What kind of attitude is that? Do you think having money makes you better than everyone else?” “Let me tell you, our dorm is competing for the ‘Model Room’ award this semester. Your behavior will lower our score and affect everyone’s honor!” She slapped a copy of the grading rubric onto my desk, pointing to a line that read “Frugality and Waste Prevention.” “See this? This is a strict requirement! Because of you, the three of us are going to be dragged down!” Lily and Mia exchanged a glance but didn’t dare to speak. I picked up the rubric and tossed it straight into the trash can. “If you’re sick, go see a doctor. Don’t throw a fit here.” “You!” Chloe was shaking with anger, her finger pointing at me trembling. I put on my headphones, too lazy to deal with her anymore. The world was finally quiet. 2. Over the next few days, Chloe didn’t confront me directly, but the atmosphere in the dorm became incredibly weird. She would constantly gather the other two roommates for “mini-meetings” to discuss how to “build a model dorm,” shooting pointed glances my way every so often. Every morning, she would walk around the dorm with a small notebook, acting like a health inspector. “Lily, your towel isn’t folded perfectly square. Minus one point.” “Mia, there’s a hair on your desk. Minus one point.” Finally, she would stop by my bed, look at my three-thousand-dollar mattress, sigh heavily, and draw a giant ‘X’ in her notebook. “Sigh, one bad apple spoils the whole bunch.” Lily and Mia were driven crazy by her, living in constant fear of losing points, and the way they looked at me started to carry a hint of resentment. I couldn’t be bothered to participate in her childish games. Having no classes on Friday afternoon, I packed my things and went straight home. Sunday evening, I returned to the dorm carrying a bunch of snacks my mom had packed for me. The moment I pushed the door open, I froze. My bed frame… was still there. But my mattress was gone. In its place was a bare, hard wooden board that smelled faintly of mildew. Only Chloe was in the dorm. She was sitting at her desk, leisurely reading a book, a smug smile playing on her lips. Seeing me return, she pushed up her glasses and stood up slowly. “You’re back?” I set the bags in my hands down heavily on the desk, making a loud bang. “Where is my mattress?” Chloe acted as if she didn’t see the fury in my eyes, instead putting on an expression that said “I did this for your own good.” “Oh, you mean that source of extravagance and corruption? I took care of it for you.” She pointed to a woven bag in the corner. “I took the memory foam out. I’ll distribute it to some low-income students in our department later. It’s getting cold, so they can use it as seat cushions. Consider it putting things to good use.” She then pointed to a few burlap sacks on the balcony. “I didn’t waste the springs either. I contacted the art department. They happen to need materials for an installation project, so it’s perfect upcycling.” I was trembling with rage, my nails digging deep into my palms. “Who gave you the right to touch my things?” “Right?” Chloe’s smile grew even wider. “Evelyn, I’m doing this to help you, and to save our dorm’s reputation!” “Don’t worry, I’ve handled everything thoroughly.” She pulled a printed application form from her drawer and waved it in front of me. “I’ve already submitted an application to the Resident Advisor, under the authority of the Student Government and as Room Captain. Given your reckless spending and lack of awareness, I recommended that your scholarship and living expenses be managed by me from now on.” “I’ll create a detailed budget for you to help you develop the good habit of frugality. Once your attitude improves, I’ll give your money back.” She was so immersed in her grand fantasy of being a “student leader ridding the people of evil” that she completely failed to notice my face had turned black with rage. “No need to thank me. It’s what I should do as a student leader.” I looked at her face, twisted with excitement, and laughed out of sheer fury. I pulled out my phone and, right in front of her, clearly dialed 911. “Hello, 911? I want to report a burglary at my university dorm. The stolen property is worth three thousand dollars.” You want to be a leader that badly? I’ll send you straight to the police station to experience what real communal living is like. 3. The moment the call connected, the smug smile on Chloe’s face instantly froze. “What… what are you doing? Are you crazy?!” She lunged at me to grab my phone, but I kicked her away. “Officer, the address is A University, Dorm Building 12, Room 401. Yes, theft, amount is three thousand dollars. The suspect is my roommate, and she’s at the scene.” I calmly stated the address, every word hitting Chloe’s heart like a sledgehammer. She turned pale, her lips trembling, unable to form a complete sentence. “Evelyn! You can’t do this! This is an internal dorm conflict! How could you call the cops!” I hung up the phone and looked at her coldly. “Internal conflict? You broke into my locker, stole my things, and even tried to control my finances, and now you’re telling me it’s an internal conflict?” “I didn’t steal! I was… I was helping you get rid of it!” She was still trying to act tough, but her voice was already laced with tears. Just then, Lily and Mia returned. Seeing the tense atmosphere in the room, they were both startled. “What’s going on?” Chloe saw them as her saviors and grabbed Lily’s arm. “Lily, talk some sense into her! She called the cops! Over a mattress, she actually called the cops to arrest me!” Lily and Mia were shocked, looking at me in disbelief. “Evelyn, you… you really called the cops? Isn’t that taking it too far…” Mia whispered, trying to persuade me. “Chloe was just trying to help the dorm, maybe her methods were… a bit extreme, but don’t sink to her level.” Before I could even open my mouth, Chloe’s tears started falling. She plopped down on the floor and began to wail loudly. “What did I do wrong! I put my heart and soul into the honor of this dorm, into helping my classmates improve, what did I do wrong!” “She’s so rich, what is one mattress to her? But to those low-income students, one seat cushion could keep them warm all winter!” “I turned her trash into treasure. Not only is she ungrateful, but she also called the cops on me! Where is the justice in this world!” She cried so pitifully, making it seem as if she was the one who had suffered a massive injustice. The police arrived quickly, accompanied by the Resident Advisor. The RA, Ms. Davis, was a young teacher who had just graduated a couple of years ago. Seeing the scene upon entering, she was also stunned. “What… what is going on here?” Upon seeing the RA, Chloe cried even harder, scrambling over to hug Ms. Davis’s leg. “Ms. Davis! You have to help me! I was just answering the school’s call to help a student who was falling behind, and she… she actually called the police to arrest me!” The police quickly assessed the situation and turned to me. “Miss, did you make the call?” I nodded, explained exactly what had happened, and pointed to the woven bags in the corner and on the balcony. “That’s my mattress in there.” The police went over to inspect, their expressions turning serious. Chloe continued to sob. “I really didn’t do it on purpose! I just thought she was being too wasteful and wanted to teach her a lesson! We’re all sisters in the same dorm, how can this be considered stealing?” “And… and she’s so rich, she doesn’t even care about this little amount of money! She’s just targeting me! Because I’m a student leader, she hates my guts!” She successfully shifted the topic from theft to class conflict and personal vendetta. 4. Ms. Davis was clearly moved by Chloe’s crying. She frowned at me, her tone carrying a hint of reprimand. “Evelyn, I know you come from a good family, but aren’t you blowing this out of proportion?” “Chloe’s intentions were good. Although her methods were indeed inappropriate, she was doing it for your own good, for the collective honor of our dorm.” “Classmates have little conflicts all the time, how can you just call the police at the drop of a hat? If word gets out, it’ll reflect badly on you, on Chloe, and on our entire department.” I looked at this RA who was trying to smooth things over, letting out a cold laugh in my heart. “Ms. Davis, does ‘having good intentions’ give someone the right to arbitrarily dispose of someone else’s personal property worth three thousand dollars?” “Does ‘having good intentions’ give someone the right to apply for control over my personal finances under the guise of ‘doing it for my own good’?” “If what I lost today wasn’t a mattress, but three thousand dollars in cash, and she also claimed it was to help me be frugal, would that also not be considered stealing?” My series of rhetorical questions made Ms. Davis look a bit embarrassed. She opened her mouth but couldn’t find anything to say. An older police officer cleared his throat and spoke up. “Regardless of the intention, taking and disposing of someone else’s property without permission, and reaching the monetary threshold for filing a case, constitutes theft.” Hearing the word “theft,” Chloe’s crying choked off, and she began to tremble even more violently. “Officer, I… I really know I was wrong! I’ll never do it again!” She turned to me, crawling towards me on her knees. “Evelyn, I’m sorry, I was wrong! Please forgive me this one time! I’ll put the mattress back exactly as it was! Please, drop the charges!” “I can’t have a criminal record, a criminal record will ruin my life! My parents will kill me!” She clung to my calf, snot and tears smearing all over my pants. Ms. Davis also quickly tried to mediate. “Yes, yes, Evelyn, look, Chloe knows she made a mistake. Be the bigger person and forgive her this time.” “We all live in the same dorm, we see each other every day, let’s not make things so tense.” “The school will also give her a severe reprimand to ensure she never does it again.” I looked down at Chloe, who was crying uncontrollably at my feet, then at the conflicted RA and the expressionless police officers. I knew perfectly well that even if she were taken away today, she would at most be detained for a few days and made to pay compensation. But for someone like her, that punishment was far from enough. What I wanted was to completely destroy her reputation, to turn everything she was so proud of into dust. I took a deep breath and slowly spoke. “Fine, I can choose not to press charges.” Chloe and Ms. Davis both breathed a sigh of relief. “But,” I pivoted sharply, “she must reimburse me for the mattress, three thousand dollars, not a penny less.” All the blood instantly drained from Chloe’s face. “Three… three thousand?” “What, is that too much?” I raised an eyebrow. “I still have the receipt, do you want to see it?” Chloe collapsed completely onto the floor. For someone who constantly labeled herself as a low-income student, three thousand dollars was an astronomical figure. Finally, with the police mediating, Chloe wrote an IOU for three thousand dollars, promising to pay it off within a month. In front of everyone, I stated that I accepted the mediation and would not pursue criminal charges against her. The police packed up and left, and Ms. Davis dragged the devastated Chloe to her office for a “talk.” Only Lily, Mia, and I were left in the dorm. They looked at me with complex expressions. “Evelyn, are you… really just going to let it go?” I smiled but didn’t say anything. Let it go, yeah right… The day after things settled down, the university forum exploded. A post titled “Exposing the Extravagant, Police-Calling Rich Bitch” was pushed to the top trending spot. 5. The poster was anonymous, but between the lines, every detail pointed to me. In the post, I was portrayed as an arrogant, condescending, evil rich girl who used her family’s dirty money to casually bully ordinary students. Chloe, on the other hand, became a tragic hero—upright, kind, brave enough to fight against “evil forces,” only to face suppression and revenge. “On the first day of school, she slapped us all in the face with a three-thousand-dollar mattress. The RA kindly advised her to keep a low profile, and she clapped back.” “The Room Captain, who is also a very upright member of the Student Government’s Disciplinary Committee, couldn’t stand her extravagant lifestyle and offered some well-meaning advice, only to have a finger pointed in her face while being cursed out.” “Later, for the honor of our whole dorm, the Captain came up with a way to ‘deal’ with that mattress, intending to teach her a lesson, and she turned around and called the cops!” “The police actually came! Guys! Over a mattress! She wanted to send her own roommate to prison!” “In the end, the Captain was forced to write an IOU for three thousand dollars. Do you know what three thousand dollars means to a low-income student? That could be her living expenses for years!” The post was highly emotive and inflammatory. A massive thread quickly built up underneath it. “WTF! This rich kid is too arrogant! Since when did A University become a place for these people to show off their wealth?” “Feel sorry for the Captain. Honest people are always the ones persecuted.” “A three-thousand-dollar mattress? Poverty limits my imagination. The straw mat I sleep on wasn’t even twenty bucks.” “Doxx her! Someone like this doesn’t deserve to be at A University! Get out!” Soon, my name, major, class, and even my dorm room number were dug up and publicly posted in the comments. Chloe played this hand beautifully. She painted herself as the victim, nailed me to the pillar of shame, and conveniently fanned everyone’s anti-rich sentiments. Lily and Mia clutched their phones, looking at me nervously. “Evelyn, what… what do we do now?” What could I do? I looked at the vile insults in the post, watched Chloe using alt accounts in the comments to steer the narrative, and just felt nauseous. She really thought she could do whatever she wanted hiding behind a screen and an anonymous handle. She was too naive. I didn’t reply to the post, nor did I confront her. I just quietly screenshotted everything, including the comments that personally attacked me and leaked my personal information. Then, I called my dad. “Dad, find me the best cybersecurity team, and get me in touch with the A University Board of Trustees.” Chloe, don’t you love playing public opinion warfare? I’ll play with you. I just don’t know if your amateur skills are enough to keep up.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “416979”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

More than three thousand years after my death, my tomb was finally discovered. Only then did I learn that later generations all called me a “Femme Fatale” who brought ruin upon the empire. Until one day, a team of archaeologists decoded my diary. They discovered that my life was never under my own control from the very beginning. They made a documentary about my life. The documentary was titled: A Lifetime Consumed: The Girl Who Fell Through Time. 01 My consciousness didn’t dissipate after I died. Instead, I was trapped within this underground mausoleum built for me. When the mausoleum was opened again, time within it began to flow once more. “We’ve finally found the tomb of the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin Dynasty!” Archaeologists swarmed in, holding cameras and live-streaming the excavation. Hearing the familiar accent, I felt a bit dazed. It had been so, so long since I heard modern English. “Chloe, write this down: October 27th, 3024 CE. The archaeological team has finally discovered the long-lost mausoleum of the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin Dynasty, hidden for over three thousand years. With this discovery, we might be able to unearth the three great unsolved mysteries of the Great Yin Dynasty!” Hearing this sentence, my thoughts became a bit chaotic. 3024 CE! Before I time-traveled, it was 3010 CE. I wonder if I can get some news about my parents from them? Thinking of this, I inexplicably felt a surge of excitement. But the excitement quickly cooled down. Even if it was only a fourteen-year difference, so what? I was already a female ghost who had been dead for over three thousand years. What could I possibly do? I couldn’t do anything. Chloe was a chubby little girl, still carrying a bit of the naive aura of a recent college grad. She was also quite excited. She recorded with the camera and provided background information to the viewers in the live stream. “The Great Yin Dynasty has a history of eight hundred years. It’s one of the oldest dynasties in our country. However, there are not many historical records about the Great Yin Dynasty. Much of our knowledge about its history comes from later theatrical adaptations and novels. “Among them, the most famous figure is the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin. “Legend has it that this Demon Queen was exceptionally cruel. It’s said that in 110 BCE, this Demon Queen burned a hundred thousand unarmed civilians alive in the city of Arcadia, just for her own amusement.” Chloe’s voice stretched my thoughts far back into the past. I remember that incident too. But things didn’t happen like that. There weren’t a hundred thousand, only three hundred. And I didn’t burn civilians alive for fun. That year, a massive plague erupted in Arcadia. The number of dead was increasing day by day. To prevent a secondary spread of the virus… I had no choice but to order the bodies of the deceased to be gathered and cremated collectively. But people in those days believed in treating the dead as if they were still alive. Burning a body meant severing the deceased’s ties to the afterlife. The agonizing screams of the city’s residents that day and the fiery red sky still seem to flash before my eyes. They cursed me: “Evelyn, you are a curse upon us all! You will die a horrible death, you will face the wrath of heaven!” 02 Chloe’s voice pulled me back. “A Femme Fatale? Perhaps! But what I’m saying is just hearsay. There’s no real historical evidence to back it up. We’re just chatting with you guys in the live stream for fun. “However, this Demon Queen of the Great Yin is indeed quite hated. All historical materials regarding her in the official records were erased. “There are only one or two sentences about her in a collection of unofficial histories called Secret Records of the Great Yin. It’s said the Demon Queen’s name was Evelyn Vance, and she was the second queen of Emperor Arthur the Cruel. “Before discovering this mausoleum, we always thought the Demon Queen was a fictional character invented in later novels.” Chloe squatted on the ground with the camera, excavating and explaining at the same time. And I squatted beside her and saw the bullet comments. [I really want to know how the Demon Queen died. In the novel Romance of the Great Yin, it says she died a gruesome death. I wonder if it’s true.] [It’s a novel, how could it be true? I’m actually curious about the relationship between the Demon Queen and Emperor Arthur’s first queen. Didn’t many historians speculate that the first queen was strangled to death by the Demon Queen?] [The three great unsolved mysteries of the Great Yin: the death of Emperor Arthur’s first queen, what crime the First Demon Queen Evelyn committed to be erased from history, and why Emperor Arthur had no heirs? Don’t forget, no matter how much later generations criticize Evelyn, she was a ruthless woman who extended the life of the Yin Dynasty for another two hundred years.] [But Evelyn was also a curse, right! Otherwise, how could Emperor Arthur marry a woman fifteen years older than him! And if it weren’t for her, many loyal ministers wouldn’t have died, and the Great Yin wouldn’t have been almost devoid of capable officials for the next two hundred years.] [Not only that, some historians speculate that Emperor Arthur having no heirs was also Evelyn’s doing. It’s said that Evelyn was infertile, and to secure her own position, she gave Emperor Arthur a sterilization potion!] The rapidly scrolling bullet comments caused my thoughts to violently snap back to over three thousand years ago. At that time, Emperor Arthur was just a newborn infant. The Great Yin was in turmoil. The previous emperor suddenly passed away without an heir, and all hopes rested on the Empress’s womb. She placed the newborn infant into my arms. Her eyes filled with tears: “Evelyn, the future of the Great Yin is in your hands.” With trembling hands, I held the baby girl. Outside the palace, a cold, continuous rain fell. Powerful ministers in their crimson court robes knelt on the stone tiles. I stepped out of the grand hall, which reeked of blood, raised the baby girl high, and declared loudly. “Her Majesty the Empress has given birth to a little prince! The Great Yin has an heir!” Nine chimes of the great bell rang out, and the frail Empress Dowager also passed away amidst the lingering drizzle. 03 Suddenly, Chloe seemed to have discovered something. She let out an exclamation, and the bullet comments became lively. I looked closely. It was a diary I had written in the past. “Professor, I think I found the journal of the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin!” Chloe was incredibly excited. The bullet comments were also scrolling rapidly: [This has to be a hoax! Why do I feel like the bottom right corner of this book cover is written in modern English script?!] [The person above, your eyes aren’t playing tricks on you. I saw it too, it really is modern script.] [Could this be a modern forgery? Otherwise, how could modern English script be unearthed! Didn’t we unearth the writing system of the Yin Dynasty decades ago?] The professor took it carefully. His hands were trembling a bit. On the cover, the name “Evelyn” was clearly written. That was what I wrote after time-traveling, afraid I would be assimilated, to remind myself at all times. The first page read: [This is my first day after time-traveling. I don’t know why I came to this era. [I want to go home. This era is simply too terrifying. [Today, I saw a little maid accidentally drop a vase, and she had both her hands chopped off. [The head maid said, this is the price of being clumsy. [If we aren’t careful, her fate will be our fate. [Waaaaah, I want to go home. I miss my mom. [If only I could wake up from sleep and go home. [I’ll never make mom angry again. [Right, I need to write down where my home is. [It would be terrible if I forgot the way home when the time comes.] At that time, I had just graduated from high school. Although I was terrified right after time-traveling. But I was still very naive. I always thought someone would fall from the sky and take me home. … The neat, modern English letters were presented in front of everyone. [Wait, is this really not a joke? Doesn’t time travel only happen in novels?] [It’s written so vividly, there’s even a real address.] [Am I the only one who feels a bit creeped out? If this is true, how painful must it have been for her, what did she go through to become the First Demon Queen!] The bullet comments scrolled so fast I could barely read them. [I just looked up this address, and it’s actually real! And this family had a daughter who went missing ten years ago, it perfectly matches this diary.] However, this bullet comment was quickly pushed down by other comments, and no one noticed. 04 This diary unearthed from the mausoleum exceeded everyone’s expectations. Some hoped it was just a prank. Some thought it was a historic discovery in archaeology. Some were looking into whether what was recorded in the diary was true. Chloe, with trembling hands, opened the second page of the diary. Still modern English. … Several pages recorded the days I spent after time-traveling. Chloe flipped through them quickly and finally saw something different. [This is my tenth day after time-traveling, and I discovered I actually traveled to the historical Great Yin! [Oh my god, will I be able to meet the legendary First Demon Queen Evelyn, and the great tyrant posthumously named ‘The Cruel’? [I need to write this down. [I’m actually going to witness the course of history! [Wow, if I go back, I definitely have to publish a paper. [A small paper, easy peasy. [However, if we use the CE dating system, it should be BCE now! The year 1 CE hasn’t even arrived yet. [It should be October 21st, 221 BCE now.] At that time, I had no idea. I had already been swept into the vortex of history. I couldn’t escape, nor was there a way back. … The bullet comments also fell into a dead silence as Chloe flipped through the diary. [I really hope this is just a prank. Did Evelyn know that she was the Femme Fatale in history who would die a horrible death!] [This is too cruel. If I were Evelyn, I would have broken down immediately, suffering so much in a strange environment.] Looking at those comforting words on the bullet comments. I whispered, “Actually, I didn’t suffer that much, I was just a little tired.” Unfortunately, no one could hear this sentence. “Professor! Someone found Evelyn’s parents!” Just when I was feeling a bit sad, Chloe suddenly stood up. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of text rapidly scrolling across the bullet comments. [Hello, the Evelyn in this diary, I think I know her. She went missing ten years ago. I can contact her parents. I just sent them screenshots of the live stream. Could you please connect with Evelyn’s parents?] [Evelyn’s parents have been searching for her for ten years, almost all over the world. Evelyn’s mother has cried so much she’s almost blind. Evelyn’s father also got sick recently and is in very poor health.] 05 At this moment, everyone realized that Evelyn might really be a living, breathing person living in modern times. Chloe discussed it with the professor, because this was obviously against the rules. The professor looked at the diary, gritted his teeth, stomped his foot, and finally agreed. “Connect!” Hearing these words, I stood frozen in place. I wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. I was also a little scared, even though over three thousand years had passed, I still remembered. My dad was a history professor, and my mom was a violinist. They loved me very much. I still remember the night before I time-traveled, I was still arguing with my mom. Because mom didn’t cook the cola chicken wings I wanted to eat. The connection was made quickly. A middle-aged man with half-gray hair appeared on the screen. He asked, “You found my Evy? Where is she, tell her to come home quickly!” Seeing Chloe didn’t react. He continued, “What happened to my Evy? It doesn’t matter, as long as she’s alive, it’s fine, even if she’s lost an arm or a leg, it doesn’t matter, her mother and I will take care of her.” Chloe still didn’t speak, just showed him a page of an inconsequential diary entry. She asked if it was his handwriting. Dad nodded repeatedly, “Yes, this is my Evy’s handwriting.” The moment I heard dad’s voice, I couldn’t hold it back anymore and started crying. I said, “Dad, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have made you angry in the past, I was wrong. “You raised me, and I made you run around for me for half your life, and in the end, you had to bury your own child.” But these words couldn’t reach his ears. He just looked at Chloe with expectation. Hoping to get some news from Chloe’s mouth. … Chloe couldn’t bear that kind of look and wanted to run. But the professor had already run away the moment the connection was made. With no other choice, Chloe braced herself and asked, “Uncle, do you know about time travel? Evelyn time-traveled.” Then, she showed him the diary in her hand, page by page, starting from the first. Dad fell silent. He asked, “Then did Evy have a good life after she time-traveled?” Chloe didn’t know how to answer, she could only ask, “Uncle, do you know the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin, Evelyn?” I mentioned earlier, my dad was a history professor. He had a very good memory. He said, “I know, the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin, Evelyn. The years of her birth and death are unknown. There is no specific record in official history, only a record in unofficial history stating that the First Demon Queen of the Great Yin was poisoned. After her death, her face was covered, and her mouth was stuffed with bran, meaning the Demon Queen would die a horrible death, and would not be allowed to reincarnate after death, nor find anyone to complain to…” As he spoke the last few words, his voice became somewhat strained. “Are you trying to say that my Evy is that First Demon Queen of the Yin Dynasty?” Chloe just said, “This is only a guess, but who knows, maybe it’s not the same Evelyn! There are many people with the same name in history, right?” But everyone knew this was just Chloe’s consolation. Everything that could be buried in the mausoleum as grave goods must be personal belongings. Moreover, this diary was preserved so well. [This is a bit too cruel! Parents who have searched for their child for decades, only to find out that their child actually time-traveled.] [What separates them is not natural disasters, nor human-made calamities, but time.] 06 The popularity of the live stream continued to rise, and more and more people flooded in. I greedily stared at my dad through the screen, who was visibly much older. Since the higher-ups hadn’t called to stop, Chloe could only continue the live stream. She flipped through the diary, showing its contents to them. … November 25th, 221 BCE. I accidentally broke my rice bowl today. The head maid scolded me, saying that since I broke the tool I use to eat, I shouldn’t eat. Going hungry, it’s so sad! The head maid punished me by making me sweep the snow in the Imperial Garden. In the Imperial Garden, I actually saw the Queen. The most famous biological mother of Emperor Arthur in the history books! The history books said she was jealous and ruthless, and any woman in the harem with some beauty would be disfigured by her and sent out of the palace. Therefore, when Emperor Arthur’s father was on the throne, there was only one Empress. But she was really gentle, completely different from what the history books say. When she caught me looking at her, not only did she not punish me, she actually gave me two pieces of osmanthus cake. She asked how old I was, and said I was still a child, how did I enter the palace. Sigh, I kind of miss mom. I wonder if mom misses me, I really, really want to go home! When I get home, I’ll definitely treat old dad to a big meal. … November 28th, 221 BCE. It’s too scary, I almost died today. Luckily the Queen passed by and saved me. The Queen is really so good! The history books are all lying, I have to write this down properly. When I go back, I definitely have to have a good talk with old dad, that old geezer. How could this Queen be bad, this Queen is really too good! However, today I also saw Emperor Arthur’s father. It’s still five years before Emperor Arthur is born. It feels like a long time! I wonder if I can live to see Emperor Arthur. And that famous Demon Queen. But right now, the Demon Queen should be a ten-year-old girl just like me! I wonder what the Demon Queen looked like when she was little. I searched the entire Spring Greeting Palace, but I didn’t see a little girl around my age. The unofficial histories are indeed lying! … [Evelyn’s diary is written so cutely! My history isn’t very good, is there a record of Evelyn in unofficial histories?] [It’s recorded in Demon Queen Secrets that Evelyn entered the Everlasting Spring Palace in 221 BCE, which is why Empress Dowager Anne entrusted the orphan to her before she died. After that, Evelyn carried the young emperor to the throne and began her rule of over twenty years.] What the bullet comments said was not false. I indeed carried the little emperor to the throne, and it was then that I realized. It turned out there was no second Evelyn in the harem. And I was the famous, disastrous Demon Queen Evelyn in history. “Indeed it is so. According to limited historical records, to prevent Emperor Arthur from ruling independently, Evelyn ordered the execution of many loyal ministers. She also executed three hundred officials from the southern provinces at the mouth of the Shadow River, causing a fault in cultural exchanges in the southern region. This was also a major reason why the Great Yin descended into ten years of chaos later on. “Murdering loyal subjects, undertaking massive construction projects, these were all the main arguments for Evelyn later being called the Demon Queen.” Hearing this, I almost laughed out loud. So, after my death, this is what those historians said about me. I lowered my eyes. Actually, I can’t blame them. Someone half a step ahead of their time is a genius. Someone too many steps ahead of their time is a madman. The things I did had already touched the interests of that era. When I was alive, I anticipated that they would smear my name. After all, history is written by the victors. I still remember that year, Emperor Arthur was fifteen and preparing to rule independently. It coincided with floods in the southern provinces. Those powerful ministers used this as an excuse to force him to issue an edict of self-criticism. The small person was full of grievance, asking me why, when it clearly wasn’t her fault, she had to issue an edict of self-criticism. They wanted to wear down the young emperor’s spirit, to show her who was boss. I told Emperor Arthur not to be afraid, I would help her. I went to the southern provinces myself to control the floods. But in the hellish southern provinces, I saw clearly the murky corruption beneath the surface of the Great Yin. The officials in the southern provinces protected each other, deeply entrenched. The disaster relief grain from the imperial court couldn’t reach the hands of the people at all. Holding the sword Emperor Arthur bestowed upon me, I executed three hundred corrupt southern officials at the mouth of the Shadow River. The people knelt on both banks of the river, shouting that Justice Evelyn had come, and they were saved. But in the surging floodwaters, I caught a glimpse of my predetermined future. 07 “But I don’t think Evelyn would do these things.” Chloe’s voice pulled my thoughts back. “Perhaps, today we will all witness history. Everything about Evelyn in history might be overturned.” My dad on the other end of the live stream had disconnected at some unknown time. But I knew he must still be there right now. Just as Chloe wanted to say something more, the professor’s excited voice suddenly rang out. “Chloe, come here quickly, we found the epitaph of Emperor Arthur’s first queen!” The bullet comments also flooded the screen at this moment. [So fast, will this epitaph reveal the cause of death of the first queen!] [I really want to know if Evelyn actually murdered the first queen. After reading Evelyn’s diary, my belief in the title ‘Demon Queen’ is wavering a bit.] I followed Chloe and floated into another burial chamber. The professor’s hands trembled as he touched the tombstone, tears streaming down his old face: “We found it, we finally found it. We studied the history of the Yin Dynasty our whole lives, and now we’ve finally found the missing history.” Chloe also leaned in to look. The signature on this epitaph was Evelyn. [Holy shit, what’s going on here? Didn’t they say Evelyn and Emperor Arthur’s first queen fought like cats and dogs? Shouldn’t the epitaph be written by the person with the closest relationship?] [This is insane, all the history regarding this part of Emperor Arthur in the Yin Dynasty is going to be overturned.] [Can someone explain what’s written on the epitaph?] [Yin Dynasty history researcher here. Although it makes me want to cry that what I studied has been overturned, I’ll still come out and interpret what’s written on the epitaph for you! [Emperor Arthur’s first queen was the eldest legitimate daughter of the prominent Montgomery family of River Run, named Victoria Montgomery. She married Emperor Arthur when she came of age at fifteen. What follows describes how impressive Victoria’s family background was and how excellent her character was. [Unfortunately, she died young, poisoned to death at the age of nineteen. [Note that this is the first time in all unearthed literature that there is a direct description of the cause of death of Emperor Arthur’s first queen, Victoria. [In other words, Victoria wasn’t killed by Evelyn, but was poisoned.] [But this epitaph was written by Evelyn! How do we know if Evelyn deliberately wrote a fake epitaph to cover up her tracks.] Their excavation work continued. Chloe wasn’t in a hurry to read the diary anymore; she started searching this burial chamber for written records concerning Victoria. I squatted on the ground, tracing the words on the epitaph through the air. Victoria’s voice seemed to echo in my ears. She said: “Sister Evelyn, when will you take me out to play!” Victoria was the queen chosen for Emperor Arthur by the civil officials the year she began her independent rule. Hailing from the Montgomery family of River Run, she was the legitimate daughter of Chancellor Montgomery. Actually, I didn’t understand how a person rotten to the core like Chancellor Montgomery could raise such a sincere daughter like Victoria. She loved to laugh, loved to play, but was also sensible. When she first entered the palace, Emperor Arthur and I were wary of her. Firstly, we were afraid she was a spy sent by Chancellor Montgomery to keep an eye on Emperor Arthur. Secondly, we were afraid she would discover the truth that Emperor Arthur was actually a girl. But despite all our precautions, we ultimately failed to guard against her. At that time, the news of my trip to the southern provinces where I angrily executed three hundred corrupt officials reached the capital. Those people were afraid, afraid I would return to the palace and settle scores with them. So they decided to go all the way and simply poisoned Emperor Arthur. After Victoria found out, she begged Chancellor Montgomery to find an antidote for Emperor Arthur. But how could Chancellor Montgomery truly wish for Emperor Arthur’s recovery. So, Victoria also drank the poison. She said: “Father, if you still want your daughter, then find the antidote for your daughter!” Although Chancellor Montgomery’s heart was rotten, he loved this daughter the most. Emperor Arthur didn’t die because of this. To prevent others from doing harm again, Victoria took close care of Emperor Arthur. It was also then that she discovered the truth of the matter. She told me: “Sister Evelyn, I didn’t tell my father about this, I didn’t tell anyone, I know everything. “I married Arthur, then I am Arthur’s queen, regardless of her gender. I protect her just like I protect my own life. “If they want to harm Arthur, they’ll have to kill me first!” Perhaps it was a prophecy. Victoria ultimately really died to protect Arthur. She took the grudges between Chancellor Montgomery and us into the deep underground. 08 “Look here, there’s a wooden box here!” Chloe suddenly became excited as if she found something: “Anyone who watches live streams frequently knows that the Yin Dynasty was a dynasty that paid great attention to ghosts and spirits. They believed in treating the dead as if they were still alive. “This kind of wooden box is usually used to store things the owner valued most while alive. “Perhaps inside, we can find what we want to know!” Chloe carefully opened the box. There were only three items inside. A blood-stained dagger—the one Victoria used to commit suicide. A phoenix pendant—the token of queens of the Yin Dynasty through generations. A well-preserved letter—the last words Victoria left for us. Seeing the long-dried bloodstains, my thoughts seemed to drift back to that snowy night over three thousand years ago. The heavy snow weighed down the green bamboo outside the house, snapping with a loud crack, and the oil lamp popped a cluster of sparks. I was processing memorials led by Chancellor Montgomery. They demanded to clear the emperor’s side of evil advisors, to execute the sycophants. In other words, they wanted to kill me. I rubbed the somewhat coarse paper. Actually, I wasn’t afraid of death. What I feared was that before I died, I wouldn’t have accomplished everything I wanted to do. That I wouldn’t have changed the tragedy of this era. The corruption in the southern provinces made me realize the suffering of the common people at the bottom. I wanted to change all this, but my actions undoubtedly touched the interests of the powerful aristocratic families. Around midnight, a piece of news suddenly came from the palace. The imperial physician said Her Majesty the Queen was not going to make it. I felt a sense of absurdity. How could a perfectly healthy person just not make it? History clearly recorded that Queen Victoria was murdered by Evelyn. And I hadn’t done anything; I had even placed many people around her to protect her. What exactly was going on? I entered the palace in the dead of night. The moment I stepped into the Everlasting Spring Palace, I smelled the strong scent of blood. Victoria’s face was as pale as gold, and blood was continuously welling from her neck wrapped in gauze. When she saw me, her tears fell uncontrollably. She said: “Sister Evelyn, I didn’t expect that it was my father who harmed you!” The hall was extremely quiet, and her hands were almost cold. The blood-stained dagger lay quietly on the ground. She held my hand with effort: “I’m sorry, Sister Evelyn, I’m really sorry, it was my father who harmed you, I’m really sorry.” At the end of her life, she was still full of guilt. By the time Emperor Arthur arrived, Victoria had already lost her breath. The Queen of Wisdom and Sensitivity, known for her gentle and mild nature, finally died in the deep winter of 197 BCE. Before Victoria died, she left a posthumous edict asking Emperor Arthur to make me the succeeding queen after her death. She traded her life for my safety and the stability of Emperor Arthur’s throne. Victoria paved the way for us, and she explained everything clearly in her suicide note. Saying she was paying for her father’s sins. However, for a concubine to commit suicide was a capital offense. To ensure Victoria could rest in peace after death, no one dared to spread the news of what happened that night. That suicide note was also hidden in the box by me, serving as a burial object for Victoria. The following year, I had thirty corrupt officials led by Chancellor Montgomery executed. Only then did I understand how the historical reputation of the Demon Queen slaughtering loyal subjects came to be. I was swept along by history, becoming a part of the force driving history forward. … [No way, Victoria actually committed suicide, and Chancellor Montgomery was actually a treacherous minister? Then what about the history I learned before where Chancellor Montgomery was a loyal minister persecuted by the Demon Queen???] [The person above, your efforts are acknowledged.] [So, Victoria and Evelyn actually had a very good relationship, and Victoria strongly supported Evelyn.] After Chloe saw the suicide note clearly, her hands were also constantly trembling. She said: “This is simply a historic moment. Look, this suicide note is clearly Victoria’s own handwriting. A few years ago, in an unearthed Yin Dynasty tomb, there was also a calligraphy and painting by Queen Victoria. This suicide note also has the seal of the queen at that time; no one else could forge it.” [I can’t even, I want to cry. How painful this must have been! In a strange dynasty, unable to understand the local language, constantly struggling to live, wanting to change everything, only to find out that nothing can be changed, and she was just a cog in the wheel of history.] [So Evelyn knew the ending of everyone, including her own, knew the ending and still had to keep walking towards her own death. How painful that must have been. She was just a little girl at the beginning!] [I don’t dare to imagine how painful it must be for Evelyn’s parents watching the live stream. Watching history that has already happened, trying to find their daughter’s future.] Seeing the bullet comments mention my parents again, my heart also inexplicably twitched. After calming her turbulent emotions, Chloe prepared to start flipping through the diary in her hand. She said: “Everyone, don’t rush. There is no clear record of Evelyn’s ending in history. Maybe the historical death of Evelyn was actually a faked death? Maybe Evelyn had long gone off to travel the world, who knows, after all, she was so smart.” The bullet comments also became active at this moment. But I was begging Chloe not to continue the live stream. “Please, don’t read anymore, at least not in front of the live stream.” If my parents knew how much I suffered during those years, how heartbroken they would be. When I was little, if I scraped my hand, mom would be heartbroken. She blamed the ground for tripping her Evy. Dad stomped hard on the ground that tripped me, saying it was all because the ground was uneven, otherwise how could Evy have fallen. If they saw that I was bullied by so many people in a strange place. How heartbroken they would be. But unfortunately, Chloe didn’t have the third eye, nor any divine powers. She couldn’t hear my voice, nor could she see my pleas. Slowly, in front of the camera, she opened that diary.

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The System ordered me to adopt the true billionaire heiress. Its instructions were clear: scold her and bully her every single day to forge her into someone with an unbreakable, iron-willed personality. Once she was finally claimed by her ridiculously wealthy family, I would be rewarded with a massive payout. I nodded viciously. “That’s easy. I absolutely hate kids!” Sixteen years later, her biological family and I finally crossed paths at the gates of her high school. I was standing there in a pair of cheap flip-flops, holding two greasy street-cart hot dogs. Her parents had pulled up in a fleet of luxury SUVs, their arms full of sixteen extravagant gifts—one to make up for every birthday they’d missed. The wealthy matriarch looked me up and down with poorly disguised disgust. “It must have been so hard for you all these years.” The fake heiress leaned against her mother, looking like a frightened little deer. “Sister, please don’t make them send me away.” The true heiress shot them a look like they were aliens. Then, she sprinted straight past them, beelined for me, and snatched one of the hot dogs right out of my hand. “Mom! I told you to stop eating this junk!” 1 When I found the true heiress by a dumpster in a back alley, she was barely a month old. She was painfully frail. Even her cries were as weak as a dying kitten’s. But the moment I picked her up, she stopped crying. Those big, round eyes stared up at me, suddenly curving into happy little crescents. I furrowed my brows and let out a cold scoff. “Don’t think you can bewitch me with that look.” “I’m only keeping you for the money.” The System chimed in: […Then why are you gently pinching her cheeks?] I quickly yanked my hand back. Damn it, I was bewitched! I quickly regained my senses. Sticking to my villainous parenting principles, I went to the pharmacy and bought the absolute cheapest baby formula on the shelf. But she didn’t seem to like it. Her little nose wrinkled, and her eyes filled with grievance. I sneered relentlessly. “You’re awfully picky. Drink it or starve.” Instead of crying, she babbled softly, reaching out her tiny hand to wrap around my index finger and giving it a gentle shake. Early the next morning, I picked up three extra shifts at the diner. That night, I bought the premium, organic formula that actually tasted good. The System: […Is this part of the evil plan?] I snapped back out of sheer embarrassment: “If she doesn’t drink the good stuff, she won’t grow! And if she doesn’t grow, how am I supposed to trade her for the cash?!” That night, she was exceptionally quiet in her crib. I tossed and turned, getting up every single minute to check if she was still breathing. I even frantically Googled: “Is it normal for babies not to cry?” By the sixth time I leaned over the crib, I finally woke her up. The System: […What exactly are you doing?] I breathed a sigh of relief, trying to cover my tracks: “I was just making sure she wasn’t dead…” When the little squirt grew into a healthy three-year-old, I finally had the chance to unleash my wicked nature. I pinched her chubby little cheeks and whispered like a demon: “Starting today…” “You will tie your own shoelaces!” The System: [?] 2 Maybe it was just good genetics, but the true heiress was incredibly smart. She quickly learned to tie her own shoes, put herself to bed, feed herself, and even wash her own little socks in the sink. The System asked numbly: [What kind of abuse is this supposed to be?] “You don’t get it.” I chuckled evilly. My master plan was only just beginning. “Next, I’m going to make her learn how to mop the floors, cook the meals, and do all the dirty, exhausting chores.” “I’m going to turn her into my personal Cinderella.” The System finally agreed: [Ah, now that is the right direction.] What I didn’t expect was for her to be so unbelievably obedient. She did exactly whatever I told her to do. But as her strict, cruel mother, I couldn’t allow a single mistake. So, when she accidentally knocked over the mop bucket, I put my hands on my hips and scolded her ruthlessly. “You’re so clumsy! Your real, rich parents are going to hate you when they see this!” Tears welled up in her eyes, and she ran into her room crying. I panicked, hurrying over to press my ear against her door. The crying inside grew quieter, and my anxiety skyrocketed. “Oh no, what do I do? Did she pass out from crying too hard?” The System: [Isn’t that a bit of an exaggeration?] I paced back and forth, nodding to myself: “You’re right. I’ll give it five more minutes…” The System: [That’s more like it…] “Four minutes… three minutes… one minute. Forget it, I’m going in!” Before I even finished my sentence, I shoved the door open. When I rushed in, she was sitting at her little desk, drawing. I scooped her up into my arms, keeping my face stern as I tried to explain myself: “I was just talking nonsense earlier. You’re so cute, your parents would never hate you.” But she just handed the drawing to me. “Mommy.” It was a drawing of a big stick figure holding hands with a little stick figure. She rested her head on my shoulder. “I don’t want anyone else. I just want Mommy.” I fell silent. She reached up and patted my cheek. “Mommy, don’t cry.” I turned my head away. “I’m not crying.” 3 I realized that scolding her was completely useless. It only ended up making me cry every single time. So, I changed my tactics. I bought a stack of flashcards and aggressively forced her to learn how to read. The System: [And what is this supposed to accomplish?] I was brimming with confidence: “You wouldn’t understand. I’m going to crush her spirit with academic pressure.” On the first day, I taught her the words “You, Me, Him.” On the second day, I taught her “Love, Hate, Like, Dislike.” On the third day, she put it all together. Like a little chirping bird, she chased me around the apartment yelling, “I love Mommy! I love Mommy!” I blushed furiously and threw the flashcards on the floor. Damn it, it didn’t work at all! Right before she started elementary school, I needed to officially get her birth certificate and Social Security card sorted out. That was when I realized I hadn’t even given her a real name yet. I had just been calling her “kiddo.” The System: [This is a crucial plot point.] [You need to give her a name she will never forget, something that brings her pain and struggle.] [I suggest naming her something truly unfortunate. Something that constantly reminds her she’s a burden, like ‘Misery’ or ‘Sorrow’.] “A burden…” I thought about it all night. The next day, I confidently filled out the legal paperwork and bragged to the System about my success. “I took your advice. I gave her a name that will truly torment her.” The System: [Oh? Did you finally figure it out?] I slapped the birth certificate down in front of her. “From now on, your name is Dawn Miller!” The System: [?] I laughed triumphantly. “The kid absolutely hates waking up early, so I named her Dawn! Won’t she be furious having to hear that every day?” The System: […] The next second, Dawn threw her arms around my leg, looking up at me with absolute adoration. “Mommy, thank you for letting me have your last name!” Huh? This wasn’t going according to plan. 4 Once she started school, I gave her strict orders that she must study hard. Dawn obediently agreed, and her personality grew much more mature. She no longer ran around screaming “I love Mommy” all day. Instead, the moment she got home, she did the chores, finished her homework, and even made the bed for me before going to sleep. I boasted to the System: “Look! We’re finally growing estranged!” “This proves my evil parenting plan is progressing perfectly!” Yet, I couldn’t resist secretly creeping into her room at night just to make sure she was okay. The next day after school, she walked up to me holding two greasy street-cart hot dogs. I glared at her fiercely. “Where did you get the money for those?!” Dawn looked up, blinking innocently. “Didn’t you secretly slip five dollars into my backpack, Mom?” “…I dropped that in there by accident!” Dawn smirked. “Then you were also ‘accidental’ the day before yesterday, and last week, and last month…” I quickly cut her off, snatching the hot dogs away. “Stop talking! This is junk food! Who said you could eat this?!” Under her pitiful, longing gaze, I devoured both hot dogs in three bites. Two hours after we got home, I walked into her room carrying a plate of premium, organic sausages I had cooked myself. “Look at this! This is what you call healthy!” Dawn didn’t say a word, but her eyes sparkled as she ate the plate clean. The System: [And what exactly is this?] I walked away fully satisfied. “What do you know? I was just making her act as my royal poison tester.” 5 Dawn was a genius. She practically got straight A’s on every test. Finally, during her third-grade finals, she only scored a 98 on her English exam. I seized the opportunity, keeping my face dead serious. “How could you be so careless? Why did you lose those two points?!” Dawn lowered her head, admitting her mistake, and silently walked into her room. The System: [Yes! This is great! You’re finally…] Before it could even finish, I was already staring at Dawn’s retreating back, silently shedding tears. “Oh God, what have I done!” The System: […You literally didn’t even do anything.] A few minutes later, Dawn came into the kitchen to start cooking and found me squatting in the corner, crying. I immediately jumped up and aggressively wiped my face. Dawn looked at my red-rimmed eyes. “Mom, are you crying again?” “I’m not crying! The smoke from the stove got in my eyes!” Dawn sighed. “Mom, I promise I’ll get a 100 next time.” I shot back: “What do you know?!” “I know.” Dawn leaned against my shoulder, gently patting my back. “I know that Mom loves me very much.” I stiffened, secretly wrapping an arm around her shoulder. The System: […Aren’t you supposed to be teaching her a harsh lesson?] Me: “Shut up! This is called playing the long game! Once she fully trusts me, then I’ll hurt her deeply!” But I waited a long, long time, and that opportunity never came. Instead, what came was Dawn running home from school in tears. I hadn’t seen Dawn cry in a very, very long time. The moment she walked through the door, she slumped over the table. I paced around her anxiously, practically begging her to tell me what was wrong, until she finally sobbed out the truth. “They said… they said I’m not your real biological child!” “Oh, is that all?” I let out a massive sigh of relief. “Yeah, I found you next to a dumpster.” Dawn froze. “…Are you serious?” 6 “Yeah.” I was completely blunt about it. “I’ve told you that a million times.” I used to threaten her all the time that she came from the trash. But she never thought it was actually true. Her lower lip trembled, and she looked like she was about to wail again. But I asked her: “So what?” Dawn’s brain short-circuited, and the crying abruptly stopped. I asked again: “Am I good to you?” “…Yes.” “Did I raise you all these years?” “…Yes.” “Does the fact that you’re not biologically mine change anything about your life right now?” Dawn thought about it really, really hard. Eventually, her eyes grew brighter and brighter, and she answered loudly: “No!” “Then what’s the problem?” I threw my hands up in victory. The System: [This was supposed to be a devastating psychological trauma for the true heiress.] I coughed lightly: “Mind your business. I operate on my own rhythm.” The next day, Dawn went to school. Those annoying boys started mocking her again for being an abandoned orphan. Dawn stood up perfectly straight, tilting her chin up proudly: “So what?” “Tommy, your clothes are always wrinkled and dirty. Your parents don’t even care enough to do your laundry—they definitely don’t love you!” “Bobby, you fail every single class, and your parents don’t even show up to the meetings. They’ve totally given up on you!” “Hunter, you eat junk food for lunch every day and your parents never stop you. They clearly don’t care about your health!” The three boys stared at each other, their faces turning beet red. “Well… you’re still a dumpster baby!” Dawn remained impossibly arrogant: “So what?” “My mom loves me! I have nothing to be afraid of!” 7 Life with Dawn went on, day by day. With her stellar grades, she got into the best public magnet high school in the city. Overjoyed, I scraped together the money to move us into an apartment closer to her new school. When Dawn found out how expensive the rent was, she immediately volunteered to take on tutoring gigs. I panicked. “Absolutely not!” Dawn blinked. “Why not?” I struggled for a moment before blurting out: “Tutoring will distract you from studying! If you don’t get into an Ivy League college, you won’t make enough money to support me when I’m old!” Dawn nodded seriously. “That makes perfect sense.” I breathed a sigh of relief. But I was terrified she might actually take me seriously and drop out to wash dishes just to help me pay bills. So I quickly added: “Supporting you for a few more years is no problem for me. This is what you call a long-term stock investment.” Dawn smiled. “Thank you, Mom.” I pulled out a brand-new backpack and tossed it to her. “Here. Found it on the street.” Dawn: “Mom, my old backpack is still fine.” I glared at her viciously. “I told you to use it, so use it! Stop arguing!” Dawn smiled brightly, taking the bag. Right before she left for school, she poked her head back in: “Mom, I’m really craving one of those street cart hot dogs today.” I waved her off dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, got it.” That evening, I showed up early at the school gates, holding two hot dogs, ready to pick her up. Suddenly, an absurdly expensive luxury car rolled to a stop right in front of the school. Under the shocked and envious gazes of all the parents, four people stepped out. Leading them was a beautifully maintained couple dripping in Old Money elegance. Behind them was a pair of siblings. The younger sister was clutching her brother’s blazer, looking incredibly nervous. The brother was looking around in disgust, clearly feeling it was beneath him to breathe the same air as the rest of us. The System, which had been silent for ages, suddenly pinged: [The Kensington family has arrived to pick up the true heiress.] I froze in place. The System had told me that once I raised Dawn to be sixteen, her biological parents would come for her. I just never expected it to happen so abruptly.

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I loved her. But that love was born out of ruin. My greatest joy in life was bullying her. I wanted to see her—so high and mighty, so untouchable—pinned beneath useless me, making a shattered expression. Later, I got bored. I wanted to start a new life, to get away from this deformed family. But before I could even board the flight out of the city, my vision went black. I lost consciousness. When I woke up again, I was tied to a bed. Sloane stood by the edge, watching me. “You always agreed to whatever I did to you. Since that’s the case, can’t you just be a good girl and stay by my side?” “Riley, where else do you think you can run to?” 1. When I was ten, my mom brought a girl home. She said that from then on, she would be my sister. That was also the day I completely became a “defective product.” It was a weekend. I remember it clearly because I had just been sent to the principal’s office, and they called my parents. My mom rarely showed up in person, so when she walked into the office, I was actually happy. Because I hadn’t seen her in a long time. But I couldn’t smile for long. On the drive back from school, my mom’s face was completely blank. She didn’t say a single word to me the entire way. I would have preferred a beating when we got home, or at least a scolding. That would mean she still cared. But she said nothing. She just sat in the car in silence, as if I didn’t even exist. When we walked into the house, I saw a girl sitting in the living room. She was much taller than me, thin, with her hair tied in a ponytail. She wore a washed-out, faded uniform. She sat on the very edge of our expensive leather sofa, her back perfectly straight, hands resting politely on her knees. Hearing the door, she looked up, revealing a clean, delicate face. I froze in place. I hadn’t figured out why this girl was in my house. My mom explained the situation through her actions. She walked over and stood right next to her. “This is Sloane. She’ll be your sister from now on.” I didn’t say a word. Because I didn’t know what to say. A sister? Where the hell did I get a sister? I stared at the girl, and she looked back at me. Then she smiled slightly and called out softly, “Hey, little sister.” At that exact moment, with those words, I understood everything. I looked at my mom and her standing side by side. I didn’t say a word. I turned around, went back to my room, and slammed the door as loud as I could. Growing up, the phrase my mom said to me the most was: “Riley, you need to be a person of value.” I always kept those words in my heart, trying my hardest to be the “valuable person” my mom talked about. I worked myself to the bone to get straight A’s, just to earn a fleeting smile or a brief word of praise. But everything started to change after I got into a car accident in the third grade. That day, the chauffeur was driving as usual, and I was in the backseat looking at my spelling words. But then came a blinding white light, a deafening crash, and the world spun out of control. I completely lost consciousness. When I woke up, I didn’t know how long I had been asleep. I just heard my mom’s cold, rational voice outside the hospital room: “Since she’s not in critical condition, let’s discharge her tomorrow.” I had barely survived the crash thanks to my seatbelt. But after that, I lost interest in almost everything. Whether it was life or school. My mom quickly noticed something was wrong. She took me to see top therapists, but the feedback was always the same… “She’s perfectly healthy.” “There’s no underlying condition.” I will always remember coming out of the doctor’s office for the last time. She stood on the sidewalk in Manhattan, sighed, and checked her watch. Then she told me: “Take a cab home yourself.” After that, my mom never took me to see another doctor. But I knew. Even though she didn’t say it, that sigh made it all clear. She was saying: “Riley, you’re useless now.” Sloane was an underprivileged student my mom had been sponsoring. Her father passed away, her mother remarried and abandoned her, and she lived with her grandmother in poor conditions. My mom had sponsored her for three years. She found her obedient, sensible, mature, and academically brilliant. So, she decided to officially adopt her. My mom never discussed this with me. She didn’t even give me a heads-up. It was as if adding or losing a daughter in this house had absolutely nothing to do with me. I was just someone who lived in this mansion. I had no voting rights, no right to speak, not even the right to be informed. In her eyes, I was a failure. A useless daughter. So whether I knew about this or not wouldn’t change the outcome. Similarly, my feelings, my everything—none of it mattered in this house. I figured that out very early on. That night, I lay face down on my bed, burying my face in the pillow. I didn’t cry. At ten years old, I already rarely cried. I just thought: every mother in the world loves her daughter. Why doesn’t my mom like me? 2. I thought about it for a long time and came to a conclusion. It must be because I wasn’t good enough, so she needed another daughter. And Sloane was that “good enough” daughter. She was four years older than me. She was fourteen when she came to my house, just starting middle school. Her grades were shockingly good. My mom transferred her to the best private prep school in the city, and she ranked first in her grade on the very first exam. When my mom saw her report card, a look of absolute joy appeared on her face—a look I had never seen before. From the day I was born, she had never looked at me with those eyes. My mom transferred me out of my school and put me in the elementary school attached to Sloane’s prep school. I didn’t know what her reasoning was. Maybe she thought it was easier for the driver to pick us up together, or maybe she wanted Sloane to “rub off on me.” But whatever the reason, it made no difference to me. I was still completely apathetic. I went from being at the top of my old class to the dead bottom of the new one. I adapted to this new dynamic very quickly. I was still constantly getting calls sent home, but now, the person showing up was Sloane. Because my mom never had time. My mom was never available. She was a senior partner at a top-tier investment bank, leaving early and coming back late. Sometimes she’d be away on business trips for days. We had a housekeeper who cooked and cleaned, taking care of me and Sloane. From childhood, my mom’s style of parenting me was simple: Give me money, give me a school, give me a place to live. She didn’t care about the rest. I was just a project in her life—a failed project she had abandoned to focus on a new, much more promising one. That was Sloane. From then on, I started to hate Sloane. No, more accurately, I started to bully her. I bullied her in many ways. At first, I hid her things. Her backpack, her textbooks, her iPad. I hid them all. I wanted to see her get anxious. I wanted to see her panic, running around looking for things. I wanted to see her cry. But she never did. Every time, she would calmly find me, crouch down to my eye level, and say in that gentle voice: “Riley, do you have my math book? Could you give it back?” I glared at her and threw the book right at her face. She caught it, smiled slightly, and said, “Thank you.” Thank you? I threw a book at her face, and she thanked me? What a psycho. Sloane changed her first name and took our last name. I couldn’t even remember what her original name was. Maybe it was Chloe? Or Claire? It didn’t matter to me. What mattered was that she was now Sloane Sterling. She shared my last name. My mom’s last name. Her name was clearly printed on the family trust documents as the “Eldest Daughter.” She looked exactly like my real sister. Sometimes, I’d flip through the photo albums at home and look at pictures of our “family of three.” My mom, Sloane, and me. Sloane stood next to my mom, who had her arm around her shoulder. Both of them were smiling. I stood on the other side, a scowl on my face, looking like an outsider forced into the frame. I stared at that photo for a long time, then smashed the album onto the floor. She wasn’t my sister. She was an intruder, a “perfect product” bought to replace me. I hated her. I hated her gentleness, her patience, her perpetually calm demeanor. I hated her stellar grades, her maturity, her ability to satisfy my mom. I hated how she prepared my coffee and left it on the counter every morning. I hated how she brought me an umbrella when it rained. I hated how she stayed awake all night by my bed when I had a fever. Because all of it made me feel like she pitied me. She was pitying a defective product. She was using her goodness to highlight my badness. Using her perfection to prove my flaws. Later, my bullying escalated. I poured her expensive makeup down the toilet. I tore her meticulously prepared college application essays into shreds and threw them in the trash. I pulled the potted plant she had been growing up by its roots and threw it on the balcony to dry out in the sun. When she came back and saw the dirt and dead leaves all over the floor, she crouched down and picked it up piece by piece. Then she stood up and looked at me. I thought, this time, she has to snap. But she didn’t. She just sighed softly and said, “I took care of that plant for two years. What a shame.” Then she went back to her room to study. She never hit me, never yelled at me, never even raised her voice. She just looked at me with those quiet eyes, as if she could understand anything I did, as if no matter how I acted out, I was just a child throwing a tantrum. That look drove me insane. But I always felt she was faking it. 3. She had to know I was my mom’s biological daughter. She didn’t want to lose my mom as her benefactor, so she tolerated me. All her gentleness, all her patience, all her “goodness.” It was all just a survival strategy for someone living under another’s roof. She wasn’t genuinely good to me; she was flattering me. Because my last name was Sterling by blood, and she was just adopted. That thought gave me a twisted sense of balance. Yes, exactly. The reason she didn’t dare get mad at me was that she was terrified of losing everything she had. The elite school, the luxurious life, the wealthy adoptive mother, the bright future. Once I figured that out, any lingering guilt vanished. I bullied her with absolute peace of mind. Because she brought it upon herself. She chose to stay and play the role of the perfect sister. So she shouldn’t blame me for being merciless. This dynamic lasted for years. From when I was ten to eighteen. From my elementary school days to my high school graduation. From when she was an adopted girl living under our roof to when she got into an Ivy League school. And then, she entered my mom’s corporation, stepping up to take control of the conglomerate. Sloane became more and more formidable. She called the shots at the company, decisive and ruthless, managing thousands of employees. Even the seasoned executives in their forties and fifties respectfully called her “Ms. Sterling.” My mom grew increasingly satisfied with her, increasingly dependent on her. She bragged to everyone, “My daughter Sloane did this, my daughter Sloane did that,” her voice dripping with pride. And me? After barely graduating high school, I went to some third-rate college. In my mom’s eyes, I was completely useless mud that couldn’t be molded. My mom could easily have sent me abroad or pulled strings, but she didn’t even want to waste those “resources” on me. Which proved she had truly given up on me. She didn’t even bother mentioning me anymore. I was air. I was full of resentment. But that was fine. I had my own ways to vent. “She’s here for Ms. Sterling again…” When I walked into the corporate lobby with my hands in my pockets, looking like the world owed me a million bucks, the two receptionists immediately started whispering. Sure, this was how I looked every time I came to see Sloane. Ever since Sloane moved into my house, she had become my mom’s “real daughter.” After all these years, besides me, no one even knew Sloane was adopted. As for my mom… she probably wished she could rip my page out of the family trust just to bring her “precious daughter” closer. The entire conglomerate knew the CEO had a useless younger sister who idled her days away, had no skills, and whose only hobby was harassing her older sister at work. They assumed I came to ask for money. They were wrong. With full clearance, I took the private elevator straight to the top floor. This entire floor belonged to Sloane. It was dead quiet. She was the one in power now, spending her afternoons handling affairs from her office. When I pushed the door open, Sloane was sitting behind her desk, reviewing files. She wore wire-rimmed glasses and a sharply tailored black blazer. Her hair was pinned up, revealing a pale, slender neck. Hearing the door, she looked up at me. I walked straight over, bypassed the massive desk, and stood right in front of her. She leaned back in her chair, looking up at me. The eyes behind the lenses were as calm as water, as if she already knew what was about to happen. I reached out, snatched the glasses off her face, and tossed them on the desk. Then I leaned down, gripped her chin, and kissed her. She didn’t dodge. Or rather, she never dodged. My kiss was vicious, almost vengeful. I bit her lip, my tongue roughly forcing its way past her teeth. She was pushed back by the force of it, her leather chair letting out a soft creak as I took whatever I wanted. I hated this look of hers the most. As if nothing I did could cause even a ripple in her heart. I deepened the kiss, pressing my other hand against the top of her chair, trapping her completely between me and the leather. Her breathing finally hitched for a second, but that was it. When I pulled away, her lips were swollen from my biting, her lipstick smeared. She merely raised a hand, wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, and cast her eyes down at the red smudge on her skin. Then she picked up her glasses and slowly put them back on. “Are you done? I need to work.” Her tone was completely flat. Exactly like when we were kids and I hid her notebook, and she’d calmly ask me “Where did you put it?” I stared at her, the anger in my chest unable to find an outlet. Or rather, I’d never been able to find an outlet for it. “No.” After saying that, I lowered my head and sealed her lips again. This time, I was even rougher, practically biting her. One hand gripped the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her pinned-up hair, tearing the hairpins out one by one. Her hair cascaded down, slipping cool and silky through my fingers. She still didn’t push me away. Even when I drew blood from her lip, she only frowned slightly. The taste of copper spread between our mingled breaths. When I tasted it, a twisted sense of gratification surged in my chest. I let her go, stood straight, and looked down at her. Her head was tilted back, her lip broken and bleeding. Her hair was a mess, her glasses sat crookedly on her nose, and I had pulled her blazer wide open at the collar. She looked thoroughly wrecked. Yet beneath that calm gaze, there was only a hint of resignation. She adjusted her messy hair and her collar. “Don’t make such a mess.” She didn’t even care about her bleeding lip. She only cared if her hair was ruined and her collar was buttoned properly. Always so composed. I pinched her jaw, forcing her to look at me. “Sister.” My voice softened, ending with a sickly-sweet lilt. I saw Sloane’s eyelashes flutter. Her expression paused for a split second before she pulled up that gentle smile. “What is it?” I only called her “sister” at moments like this. I knew she was drowning in her role as the “gentle older sister,” so I was more than happy to indulge her. Only in these specific moments, of course. I brushed my thumb over her smeared lipstick. “Getting kissed like this by your own ‘little sister’…” “Aren’t you a bit of a freak?” 4. She didn’t answer. She just turned her head to break my grip. Then she reached up to fix her collar, tucked her stray hair behind her ear, lowered her head, and went back to her documents. “There’s coffee and pastries on the table. Eat it yourself. Be a good girl.” She said it just like that. As if nothing had happened. I let out a cold scoff, threw myself onto the leather sofa, and started eating. She was like this every single time. After so long, I was used to it. I had no idea what went on in Sloane’s head, and I didn’t care to know. Ever since I turned eighteen, she and I had been trapped in this extraordinary, “deformed” relationship. It all started on my eighteenth birthday. They called it a coming-of-age party, but it was really just an excuse. My mom booked a ballroom at a luxury hotel and invited a bunch of her Wall Street friends and business partners. Everyone wore perfectly tailored smiles, offering their congratulations. But I knew they weren’t congratulating me. They were congratulating my mom. Congratulating Sloane on taking on more of the company. Congratulating the Sterling family on having a worthy successor. As for me, I was just a prop for the banquet. I kept a scowl on my face the whole time, holding a glass of champagne in the corner, watching my mom link arms with Sloane as they toasted table after table. “This is my eldest, Sloane. She’s helping me out at the firm now.” When my mom said that, her smile was brighter than any she had ever given me. Sloane stood beside her in a champagne-colored evening gown, her hair swept up in an elegant updo, wearing simple pearl earrings. She looked dignified and poised. Halfway through the banquet, I ditched the party and went to hang out with my own crowd. They weren’t really friends—just a bunch of rich kids like me with too much money and zero ambition, gathering to drink and waste away. When I arrived, they were already a round deep. Seeing me, they cheered and made me take three penalty shots. I didn’t say a word and downed three glasses of whiskey back-to-back. The hard liquor burned its way down my throat, making my stomach churn, but the burn felt good. I was annoyed. Not just because my mom treated me like nothing, but because of Sloane. “Riley, did you and Skylar break up?” My friend Liam leaned in. I glanced at him and sighed. “She’s going to study abroad. We ended it on good terms.” Liam looked stunned. “Huh? Just like that? You could go with her.” “She didn’t ask me to,” I shrugged. “Besides, my mom can’t even be bothered to look at me right now, let alone send me abroad. She’d just think I was wasting her money.” Liam went quiet. He probably couldn’t understand my mom’s parenting style. “How… how long were you guys even dating?” He quickly changed the subject to cut the awkwardness. “Three days.” “…….” Conversation over. I ended up being carried to the car by my friends. When I got out, I pushed the front door open, didn’t even take off my shoes, and stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the sofa. The main lights were off; only a dim yellow nightlight glowed in the entryway. I lay there with my eyes closed. My head was spinning, and my stomach kept rolling. Then I heard footsteps. I didn’t need to open my eyes to know who it was. For years, it was only ever her and me in this massive house. The footsteps got closer and stopped by the couch. I felt someone crouch down in front of me. “Riley.” “Why did you drink so much?” I didn’t open my eyes. I didn’t speak. I felt her stand up and leave, returning a moment later. Then, something cold pressed against my forehead. A towel. An ice-cold towel. She supported the back of my head with one hand and used the other to carefully wipe my forehead, cheeks, and jaw. “How much did you have? Does your stomach hurt? Want me to make you some hangover soup?” Her voice was laced with the perfect amount of concern. Exactly what a perfect older sister would sound like. But was she? She wasn’t. She was just too good at acting. She had played the role for nearly ten years; she probably believed it herself by now. Who did she think she was? Did she think putting on this act would make me grateful? Make me call her “sister”? “Don’t touch me.” I smacked the towel out of her hand. She didn’t speak. She didn’t move. I opened my eyes and saw her crouching by the couch, one hand still hovering in the air, maintaining the exact posture from when she was holding the towel. “Riley, you’re drunk. Let me help you to your room, okay?” She reached out, trying to help me up. At that exact second, the tight string in my brain snapped. “Cut the act!” I grabbed her wrist and yanked it hard. Caught off guard, she lost her balance and fell forward onto me. Sloane crashed onto my body, her hands bracing against the back of the sofa on either side of my head just in time to stop herself from crushing me. Her face hovered right above mine. Inches away. I saw her freeze. For a split second, that mask of hers cracked with shock. I stared at her. Stared at that perpetually calm, gentle face. At those eternally unbothered eyes. Whenever I was a mess, Sloane was always there, like she could accurately smell my impending emotional breakdowns and deliberately lean into the blast zone. Every word she said, every action she took, challenged my limits. I had tried so many ways to make her stay away from me, but she was completely unfazed. And now, looking at her face. 5. A crazy, impulsive thought exploded in my mind. I tipped my head up and kissed her. It was rough, totally devoid of skill, driven by a vengeful sort of malice. I waited. Waited for her to shove me away, to yell at me, to hit me. Waited for her to finally “snap.” But she didn’t move. Her lips pressed against mine—warm, soft, and trembling slightly. But she didn’t push me away. I opened my eyes. She was still in the same position, hovering over me, her eyes half-closed, eyelashes fluttering. Her breathing had grown erratic. Warm breath washed over my face, carrying a barely detectable tremor. She didn’t push me away. She even closed her eyes. The living room was dim, but I could still see the change in her face. A thin flush crept across her cheeks, spreading all the way to the tips of her ears, looking incredibly vivid under the glow of the nightlight. I was completely stunned. I knew Sloane indulged me. She never said no to me. But I never expected she would allow me to do this. And then, I smiled. In that moment, I felt an unprecedented rush of pleasure. The thrill of dominating her. The forever untouchable, perfectly composed Sloane. She was finally no longer that flawless “sister.” I had finally dragged her down into the mud. From that day on, this twisted game between us began. I would seek her out after drinking, crash into her office when I was in a foul mood, and push her bedroom door open in the dead of night. She never refused. Just like my “pranks” when we were kids. Whatever I did, she silently accepted. Oddly enough, since we started doing this, my hatred for seeing her lessened. Maybe it was just habit after all these years. But more likely, it was because I had finally found a sense of equilibrium within my own bitter resentment. And the key to maintaining that balance… Was this sick, intimate contact between us. I leaned back on her office sofa, ate half a plate of pastries, and drank two cups of black tea. The couch was soft, the sunlight was warm, and after eating my fill, I started feeling sleepy. I was too lazy to leave, so I just slouched down, closed my eyes, and planned to take a nap. It wasn’t like I had a job, meetings, or networking to do. My entire existence consisted of vast amounts of time I could just waste. If I ran out of money, I just asked Sloane. She was never stingy; she gave me whatever I asked for. From Sloane’s desk came the rustle of papers, occasionally punctuated by her talking on the phone. She spoke quickly, her logic razor-sharp, sounding like a completely different person from the one who talked to me. Listening to it, I drifted off. Half asleep, I heard a knock at the door. Sloane said, “Come in.” I didn’t bother opening my eyes, just rolled over and buried my face in a throw pillow. The door opened. Someone walked in. “Sloane.” A clear, masculine voice rang out, carrying just the right amount of familiarity. Sloane paused. “Parker. Can I help you with something?” “Don’t be a stranger, just call me Parker,” the man laughed. “I came specifically to see you today. Didn’t your mom mention it?” I squinted, peering through the gap in my arms. A young man stood in front of Sloane’s desk. He looked to be in his early thirties, wearing a sharply tailored dark grey suit, handsome and clean-cut. He looked exactly like a successful corporate elite. He was holding a bouquet of flowers wrapped in dark green paper. It looked expensive. Sloane glanced at the flowers but didn’t reach for them. “Parker, if there’s something you need, just say it.” “Why the rush? Your mom said you were free this afternoon, so I thought I’d wait for you to get off work and grab dinner. I know a great omakase place you’d love.” I froze. Who the hell was this? My drowsiness vanished instantly. I sat straight up on the sofa. The movement was loud. The man heard it, turned around, and clearly froze when he saw me. He evidently hadn’t expected someone else to be in Sloane’s office, let alone someone slouched on the couch with their shoes on, looking like they just woke up from a bender. His gaze lingered on me for a second before he smiled politely, turning back to Sloane with a questioning look. Sloane looked at me. “This is my sister, Riley,” she said. “Sister?” Parker obviously didn’t know Sloane had a sister. His expression slipped for a second, but he quickly recovered and nodded at me. “Nice to meet you, Riley. I’m Parker.” I ignored him. I leaned back on the couch, crossed my arms, and shifted my gaze from his face to Sloane’s, then back again. Sloane had no intention of elaborating. She lowered her eyes and went back to the file in front of her. “Parker, I’m busy tonight. Let’s take a raincheck.” “What could be so urgent? Your mom said you didn’t have any other plans,” Parker said with a smile, a hint of persistence in his voice. “It’s just dinner. It won’t take up too much of your time.” As he spoke, his eyes briefly flicked toward me. He was probably wondering why the “third wheel” wasn’t leaving. 6. I stared at him, then suddenly laughed. “Hey, sis,” I spoke up, my voice not loud, but clear in the quiet office. “Who’s this guy?” Parker’s brow furrowed slightly. My tone wasn’t exactly friendly. Sloane looked up at me. “Riley,” Parker spoke first. “Sloane and I have known each other for a bit. Your mother introduced us.” My mother introduced them. My mom was setting Sloane up with men? I turned my head and glared at Sloane. “Sloane,” Parker tried again. “Are you really not free tonight? It’s just dinner. I already made the reservation.” I didn’t wait for Sloane to answer. “She’s not free tonight.” Parker looked at me, a flash of genuine displeasure finally crossing his eyes. Sloane also looked at me. Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t say anything. I tilted my head, studying Parker. “She has plans with me tonight.” “Some other time, then.” He took a step back, walking to the door, then glanced back at Sloane. “I’ll get going. I’ll leave the flowers here. If you like them, I’ll bring more next time.” The door clicked shut. The office fell silent. I stared at that bouquet of Lisianthus. The white petals were pristine and beautiful. Sloane kept reading her files, completely unbothered. Like nothing had happened. I grabbed the bouquet, walked straight over to the trash can, and shoved it in. The flowers hit the bin with a dull thud. A few petals broke off and scattered on the floor. “Have the cleaning staff clear that out later.” Sloane looked up, glancing at the fallen petals, her tone perfectly flat. From start to finish, she remained entirely unfazed. But I wasn’t going to let him off that easily. “He’s decent looking. Rich family, I assume? Or Mom wouldn’t have given him the time of day.” “Riley, Mom just wanted me to network with him. It doesn’t mean anything.” Sloane’s tone was so soft. Whenever she spoke to me, there was always that underlying tone of “coaxing.” Like I was just a petulant child throwing a tantrum. I hated that attitude. “Doesn’t mean anything? Bringing you flowers, taking you to dinner?” For some reason, an indescribable emotion surged in my chest. I couldn’t tell what it was, but I frowned, the words spilling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Sloane, we both know what Mom is scheming. When did you meet him? How many times have you seen him? Have you slept at his place?” Sloane put down her pen. Her eyes, magnified slightly by the gold-rimmed glasses, looked at me directly. “Riley, I’ve only met him once at a gala. We haven’t met privately, and I definitely haven’t slept at his place.” She sighed, a helpless but gentle smile curving her lips. “If I tell you that, will you stop being mad?” Hearing her say that, the knot of anger in my chest loosened a bit. But her almost overindulgent, doting tone made me inexplicably irritated again. “Don’t get it twisted, Sloane. Nothing you say matters to me. You’re just a toy.” Sloane smiled, saying nothing. After Parker showed up, everything changed. No, to be exact, I changed. I couldn’t say why. Sloane was supposed to be nothing to me. Just a “toy” I could bully and vent on. If she had suitors, if guys brought her flowers, if guys took her out—what did it matter to me? But I couldn’t control myself. That night, I tossed and turned in bed, my mind filled with the image of Parker standing at her desk. And those damn white flowers. White petals, so pristine. Sloane seemed to like white. I rolled over, pulled the blanket over my head, and squeezed my eyes shut. But when I closed my eyes, all I saw was Sloane looking up at him. Did she smile at him? I couldn’t remember. But I assumed she did. In my eyes, her smile was worthless. But who the fuck was Parker? What gave him the right? The next afternoon, I showed up at the lobby of Sterling Global again. The two receptionists exchanged a look. “Good afternoon, Ms. Riley.” I ignored them and walked straight to the elevators. As the doors closed, I looked at my reflection in the mirrored walls. My brow was deeply furrowed, dark circles under my eyes from staying up all night. My whole face practically screamed “don’t mess with me.” No wonder the receptionists always looked terrified. Even I thought I looked like a psychopath about to snap. What was I doing? I wasn’t here to catch a cheating spouse. When I pushed open Sloane’s office door, she was on the phone. Hearing the door, she looked up, her lips curving into a small smile. She told the person on the line to hold, covered the receiver, and whispered, “There’s snacks on the table. Sit for a second.” That tone again. Coaxing a toddler. I sat on the couch, crossed my arms, and stared at her while she talked. She was wearing a white silk blouse today, the collar slightly open, revealing her collarbone. Her hair wasn’t pinned up; it fell loosely over her shoulders, the ends curled and soft. I stared at her for a long time until she hung up the phone and met my gaze. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

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1 My boyfriend of eight years and his first love were getting their kicks in our walk-in closet. “Keep it down,” Jane Lincoln whispered, her voice tight. “What if she hears us?” Jake Sandberg dismissed her concern. “Jane, don’t get distracted.” Jane started to cry, and Jake quickly kissed her. “Don’t worry, Jane, I took her hearing aids.” “She can’t hear us, it’s okay, don’t cry.” But Jake didn’t know I had just returned from the hospital. I had used all my savings to get a cochlear implant surgery. … I had just returned from the hospital after my cochlear implant’s external processor was activated and adjusted. Opening the front door, I heard strange noises. Stumbling footsteps mixed with gasps, followed by the sound of a closet door closing. My boyfriend of eight years and another woman’s voices intertwined. “Keep it down, what if she hears us?” Jake was unconcerned: “Jane, don’t get distracted.” Jane started to cry, and Jake quickly kissed her. “Don’t worry, Jane, I took her hearing aids.” “She can’t hear us, it’s okay, don’t cry.” So, the missing hearing aids had been taken by Jake, all to make me a part of their twisted game. I accidentally knocked over a glass vase near the entrance. When the sharp sound of shattering echoed, the commotion from the closet finally stopped. I stiffly knelt to pick up the pieces. “Ouch.” A shard sliced my finger. Tears welled in my eyes from the pain. After a long moment, a tall figure stopped in front of me. “Why didn’t you say you were back?” Jake’s voice was hoarse, his eyes still clouded with lingering desire. “Such a grown woman, crying over a tiny cut from a shard.” He looked at me with disdain. My lips trembled, so many words wanting to spill out, but in the end, I just said: “Jake, I can’t find my hearing aids.” Hearing this, the man opposite me pretended to search for a moment. When he emerged from the bedroom, he held up two hearing aids. “Dummy, you need to keep track of your own hearing aids. What if I hadn’t found them for you?” I snatched the hearing aids from his hand, pretending to put them on. When he wasn’t looking, I slipped both into my pocket. My heart hammered furiously, my breathing erratic. I walked past him, seemingly casually, heading towards the bedroom’s walk-in closet, feigning confusion. “In the bedroom? Why didn’t I see them earlier?” Jake had left in a hurry, leaving the closet door slightly ajar. Through that crack, I could even see Jane’s panicked, tear-filled eyes. Pain, like a cornered beast, savagely tore at my heart. I was practically suffocating. I instinctively reached out, my fingers trembling as they brushed the closet door. Through the narrow gap, Jane held clothes to cover her body, one hand clamped over her mouth as if terrified she might scream. My mind was a blur. I completely disregarded our upcoming wedding, focused only on tearing down the humiliating charade before me. Just as I reached to open the closet door, an uncontrollable wave of nausea surged through my throat. I pushed away Jake, who had rushed over anxiously, and hurried to the bathroom, retching dryly into the sink in front of the mirror. “What’s wrong? Did you eat something bad? Do you need to go to the hospital?” Jake leaned in, feigning concern. It had been a while since my last period. When I had my cochlear implant surgery today, I coincidentally had an ultrasound scan. The results showed I was seven weeks pregnant. I had been excited the whole way home, wanting to tell Jake the good news in person. The child we had hoped for for five years was finally coming. I looked at the man in front of me, whose concern seemed genuine, and couldn’t help but deceive myself. Perhaps, if I just pretended not to know. As soon as he knew I was pregnant. We could start over, couldn’t we? I was about to speak. The sound of something falling echoed, from the direction of the bedroom. Jake’s hand, resting on my arm, stiffened. “You go wait for me in the underground garage.” “I’ll tidy up and come down, then I’ll take you to the hospital to get checked.” I nodded. Before leaving, I used another less-used phone to call my main one. I set the spare phone to silent and placed it face down before turning to leave. In the empty underground garage, I sat quietly in the passenger seat, my phone beside me, still on the call. “Jay, I know you still resent me for leaving you to go abroad back then, but I truly had no choice.” “I know you’re about to marry Ruth.” “But what about me? Jay, I’m having your baby. Can you really bear to let our child be born without a father?” The woman’s crying and the man’s incredulous voice came through the phone. “Jane, is what you’re saying true?” What a coincidence. “Jay, I know your responsibility to Ruth, but are you really going to abandon all these years of love between us?” Only responsibility? “How could I abandon you!” Jake blurted out. My heart sank completely. The day Jake and I first met was also the first time I saw Jane Lincoln. I was six years old. My grandparents took me to buy my first pair of hearing aids. The staff stubbornly refused to sell them to us. Because we didn’t have enough money. Countless crumpled fifty-cent, one-dollar, five-dollar, ten-dollar, twenty-dollar bills piled up like a small mountain – it was their life savings. But it still wasn’t enough. My grandparents were so desperate they knelt, begging them to sell to us first, promising they could write an IOU. I knew it was because I was about to start elementary school, and they didn’t want my education to suffer because I couldn’t hear. They didn’t want other children to look down on me. Amidst the stalemate, a childish voice broke the silent air. “Daddy, sell them to them.” 2 Jake, who had come with his father, Mr. Sandberg, pleaded with him. Standing beside him, Jane Lincoln, in a beautiful princess dress with elaborate braids, looked at us with pity. Her gaze held no malice, yet it felt like a needle pricking me. I instinctively clutched my old, faded, stiff clothes. And so, we received a pair of burning hot hearing aids. And a thin IOU, heavier than a mountain. That’s how Jake, Jane, and I met. Children’s preferences are brutally straightforward. So I knew early on that Jake liked Jane. I watched him chase away the little boys who tried to befriend her, awkwardly giving her cheap but pretty hair clips. I watched him participate in make-believe games he usually found boring, just so he could play Mommy and Daddy with Jane. In their endless games where they were the main characters, I was always either a bystander or the villain. Once, Jake pushed me down according to the script. Perhaps he didn’t control his strength well, and I fell hard to the ground. Rough sand scraped my palms and knees; fresh blood seeped from the wounds, and I cried from the pain. Jake, who was originally walking towards Jane, suddenly turned around, carrying me on his back, and sprinted towards the infirmary. The slender boy’s body erupted with infinite potential. Leaning on his shoulder, I was so stunned I even forgot to cry. For a moment, I thought I was the heroine of a high school drama. “Hmph, Jane’s into cop movies lately. She keeps saying she only likes heroes.” “Now I guess I’m a hero too, right?” “Hey, Ruth, considering I saved you, you owe me big time. Make sure you praise me to Jane when you get back.” Those unspoken, fervent girlish feelings were doused with a bucket of cold water, the chill plunging straight to my heart. I stiffened and said, “Okay.” Later, in our junior year of high school, Jake’s father went bankrupt and committed suicide. Jane unilaterally broke up with Jake and moved abroad. I stayed with the penniless Jake, helping him start a business and rebuild his fortune. He confessed his feelings to me, then proposed. I thought I had finally emerged from Jane’s shadow. I was naive. I waited in the underground garage for a very, very long time, so long that Jake messaged me to say he had an emergency and couldn’t accompany me to the hospital. Because Jane was upset. He was taking her to set off fireworks in the suburbs. I silently went upstairs, washed up. When I instinctively sat on the bed, those filthy memories instantly flooded my mind. So dirty, so dirty. I ran to the bathroom and vomited until I was dizzy. As I collapsed to the floor, I saw a silver men’s ring lying by the drain. Four years ago, I used my meager savings to buy Jake a silver ring as a birthday gift. It was during the hardest time of his startup, when the dual pressure of mental stress and financial struggles was almost crushing him. The six-foot-tall man, upon seeing the small silver ring I gave him, actually got tears in his eyes. He held me very, very tightly, so tightly I could barely breathe. But I only thought to comfort him. He solemnly promised me: “Ruth, I will definitely make sure we live a good life.” Later, he treasured that silver ring as if his life depended on it, never bearing to take it off. He said seeing the ring was like seeing me; he wanted to see me every minute of every day. But now, that silver ring lay quietly in a corner of the bathroom, left to dust and grime that dulled its shine. I picked up the ring. I slept in the guest room for a night. As I drifted in and out of sleep, a figure climbed onto the bed. “Ruth, why weren’t you waiting for me in the living room today? And why did you sleep in the guest room?” In the past, no matter how late Jake came home, I would always wait for him on the sofa in the living room. Sometimes I would wait all night. After so many years, it had become our unspoken habit. “I don’t know why, but the bedroom smells really bad.” The smell of infidelity. 3 He was so close, I easily caught his scent. The rose perfume, unmistakable even through the faint scent of gunpowder. Roses were Jane Lincoln’s favorite. Disgusting. Perhaps out of guilt, he didn’t speak for a moment, then wandered into the kitchen. The kitchen was empty, the stove barren. “Ruth, why isn’t there any porridge today?” Jake’s work schedule was demanding; he often forgot to eat, leading to stomach problems over time. I researched many remedies, finally settling on several recipes for stomach-nourishing porridge, along with various other stomach-friendly meals. For years, I had tirelessly tried new ways to care for his health. I didn’t speak, just turned over and continued to sleep. Not having to get up early felt quite nice. Jake finally realized something was off with me and leaned in, coaxing. “Come on, Ruth, you’re not still mad about yesterday, are you? It was all work-related.” “You know, I do it all for our future.” “Are you still feeling unwell? Should I take you to the hospital now?” “No, I’m much better.” “Then how about I book our favorite restaurant for dinner tonight? Candlelight dinner?” “Sure.” It was a good opportunity for us to talk, to discuss the baby. Just as I finished washing up and opened my phone, I saw a message from Jane, asking to meet that afternoon. As if afraid I wouldn’t go, she even sent me a photo of her and Jake kissing under a sky full of fireworks. I went as promised. Jake, oblivious, drove me to the intersection. As we parted ways, I casually asked him: “Have you lost anything recently?” He looked around blankly, then shook his head. My heart turned to ice, inch by inch. I got out of the car, casually tossing a silver ring into a trash can. I pushed open the door of the cafe and saw Jane, in a white dress, waving to me from her seat. She was as beautiful as ever. I immediately noticed the diamond ring on her hand. When choosing wedding rings, I really liked the promise behind it: “One life, one love.” But Jake thought it was tacky and dragged me to the shop next door to pick out a different diamond ring. It wasn’t the ring that was tacky; it was me who wasn’t worthy. “Ruth, long time no see.” “Honestly, it was quite a shame you gave up on going abroad as an exchange student back then.” In high school, a well-known alumnus offered to sponsor my overseas study, on the condition that I work for his company after graduating college. It was a very rare opportunity; if I accepted, a brilliant future was within reach. But I still refused. At that time, Jake was at a low point: his father had gone bankrupt and committed suicide, and Jane had moved abroad, unilaterally breaking up with him. I felt I couldn’t leave him then. Memories slowly faded. A waiter brought two drinks. “Tequila Sunrise. It’s a very refreshing alcoholic drink. Try it.” Jane pushed a bright orange drink towards me. She was clearly smiling, but her fingers trembled slightly as she pushed the glass. “Jane, you’re very perceptive, and very smart.” I didn’t take the drink. She took a deep breath, her face instantly paling, but she still forced a smile. “Ruth, do you know?” “I thought I’d have to explain for ages to Jay about going abroad, but I didn’t expect him to just throw himself into my arms, unable to control himself, the moment we reunited.” My fingers suddenly tightened, and the wound I unintentionally touched throbbed even more fiercely. “Do you know the first thing he said to me?” “He said, ‘Jane, I hate you.’” “‘But you’re not allowed to leave me again.’” Jane recalled the anecdote and burst into laughter. I blinked furiously, a strained, ugly curve on my lips. It was quite funny. I started laughing too. But Jane, opposite me, suddenly stopped laughing and looked at me haughtily. “Ruth, you’re crying.” “You damn bitch, you’re here! You stole my money and ran back to the country, and now I’ve finally found you!” A sudden change. A burly man with a scarred face, appearing from nowhere, lunged and slapped Jane.

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My sister was kidnapped, and the kidnappers demanded fifty million in ransom for her release. The whole family was busy gathering the ransom, but I kept attending auctions, buying expensive jewelry. Infuriated, the kidnappers demanded that I go alone to rescue her. Not only did I not go, but I also held a press conference, announcing that I was expelling my sister from the Schmidtke family. My sister was killed, and her mutilated body was dumped at our doorstep. Everyone accused me of being selfish, prioritizing the company’s inheritance over my sister’s life, and pressured me to atone with my own death. Instead of feeling any remorse, I deliberately overturned her ashes. I wanted to see when the person who had been hiding behind the scenes all along would finally jump out. 1 “Mary, it is a disaster! Isabella was kidnapped while traveling abroad! The kidnappers just sent a message demanding fifty million dollars in ransom within three days. If we do not pay, they will kill her. You have to save your sister!” My father barged into the boardroom, completely ignoring my assistant’s frantic attempts to hold him back. He stood in front of the entire executive board and all the regional managers, trying to physically drag me out of my chair. Compared to his absolute panic, I sat there with glacial calm. “She went on vacation with her boyfriend,” I replied, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “Isn’t she just hiding to test how much we love her? She pulls these pathetic stunts all the time. If you aren’t sick of it yet, I certainly am.” My utter indifference choked the words right out of his throat. It took him several seconds to recover. “It is real this time! Isabella was actually taken! The kidnappers sent a video straight to my phone. Look at it if you don’t believe me!” He shoved his phone across the mahogany table, trying to force the screen into my line of sight. “They said we have three days to get fifty million in cash, or she is dead. Mary, you have to save her!” A dark, mocking chuckle escaped my lips. “The last time she was heartbroken, she faked her own disappearance. I had to wire her a million dollars just to get her to come home. I guess she got a taste for the theatrics. Now she wants fifty million?” “If you want to play the hero, go find the money yourself. I am not her parent, and I am certainly not obligated to entertain her delusional games. Besides, I do not have that kind of liquid cash laying around.” Seeing that I was entirely prepared to wash my hands of the situation, his panic mutated into rage. “Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?! This is fifty million dollars! Are you really going to sit there and let those monsters murder her?” “You are her older sister! It is your duty to provide for her! And if you do not have the cash, sell your shares in the company! Schmidtke Enterprise is a massive empire. Liquidating a fraction of your equity would easily cover the ransom!” I stared at him like he had lost his mind. “Are you seriously suggesting I sell off my shares in this corporation to humor her psychotic little game?” “Do you even realize what you are asking? I hold exactly fifty-one percent of this company. If I sell a single share of my foundational equity, I lose majority control! You want me to risk the entire Schmidtke legacy to pay a ransom? Is your brain rotting out of your skull?” In my previous life, the moment he mentioned Isabella was kidnapped, I lost my mind with worry. I immediately suspended the board meeting and rushed home to help him liquidate assets. After we scrambled to gather the funds, we hurried to the drop-off location. Even though we arrived exactly on time, the kidnapper claimed we took too long and made him lose his patience. With a sick laugh, he tossed a hunting knife at my feet, ordering me to stab myself. If I refused, he would slit Isabella’s throat. Seeing my sister crying hysterically with blood dripping down her neck, I did not even hesitate. I picked up the blade and aimed it at my own abdomen. My father had lunged forward, supposedly to stop me. But his hands “accidentally” slammed into my wrists, driving the blade directly into my heart. I died instantly on the dirty concrete floor. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting right back in this boardroom. “Mary, do you have no soul?! She is the sister you grew up with! She is in mortal danger, and you are sitting there like a block of ice!” Seeing that I remained entirely unmoved, he began screaming insults. “If she has actually been kidnapped, the first thing you need to do is call the FBI. Let the authorities handle it. Do not come in here throwing a tantrum.” The phantom agony of that blade piercing my heart still burned in my memory. I impatiently waved my hand, signaling the security guards to drag him out. Once he was forcibly removed, I offered a brief apology to the stunned executives. Suppressing the chaotic storm of emotions inside me, I forced myself to sit through the rest of the meeting. 2 The second the meeting concluded, I locked myself in my private office to analyze everything that had happened in my previous life. After running through the events with no clear answers, I called my assistant, Rachel, into the room. Pretending I was talking about a “friend,” I recounted the exact details of my past life’s murder. Her face contorted in thought, her eyes darting back and forth before she finally spoke. “Boss, has it ever occurred to you that this sister might not actually be blood-related? What if this entire situation was a trap designed specifically to eliminate you?” Spending too much time reading crime thrillers online had given Rachel a dangerously sharp intuition. “Think about it. Why would a family’s first reaction to a kidnapping be demanding ransom money instead of calling the police? And that final struggle with the knife… isn’t it a little too convenient that his ‘accidental’ push resulted in a fatal strike to the heart?” Her words hit me like a bolt of lightning. The fog completely cleared. After a long silence, I looked up at her. “Drop everything regarding the upcoming IPO. I have a very specific investigation I need you to run.” Rachel left with her orders. I stayed in the office, continuing my work as if nothing had happened. After hours, I drove straight to my private luxury condo instead of returning to the family estate. In this life, I completely completely washed my hands of the mess. My father was left running around like a headless chicken, desperately liquidating his own assets to scrape together the ransom. Meanwhile, I quietly shadowed his movements. Every antique or property he sold off, I anonymously purchased back. I even started attending high-society charity galas, throwing obscene amounts of money at rare diamonds, vintage paintings, and poverty relief funds. One evening, as I walked out of an exclusive auction house admiring a newly acquired emerald bracelet, a disheveled figure lunged out of the shadows, startled me. Taking a closer look, I realized it was my father. He looked like a homeless beggar, his clothes wrinkled and his face covered in a thick layer of stubble from days of exhausting desperation. “Mary, are you truly going to let your sister die at the hands of those butchers?” “It is only fifty million! That is pocket change for you! Is money really more important than human life?” “Did you forget the promise you made at your mother’s grave? You swore you would protect your sister for the rest of your life!” If I only had suspicions before, seeing his desperate, manipulative face confirmed it. There was a traitor in my inner circle. “I already told you. I do not have that kind of liquid cash, and even if I did, I would never spend it to save her. Instead of ambushing me in the street, you should be figuring out how to pawn the rest of your watches.” “Let me make this perfectly clear. I would rather burn my fortune or donate it all to charity than give a single dime to a disaster like Isabella. Give it up.” A crowd of elite socialites was beginning to form. I had zero interest in being their evening entertainment. I signaled my driver to push him aside, stepped into my Bentley, and drove away. Somehow, the events of that night reached the kidnappers. Infuriated by my statement that I would rather give my money to charity than save Isabella, they began relentlessly bombarding my private phone with calls and texts. They demanded I bring the ransom to the drop-off location completely alone, or Isabella was dead. Reading the text, I could not help but laugh out loud. This was fifty million actual dollars, not Monopoly money. Fifty million dollars in cash weighs hundreds of pounds. It would look like a literal wall of paper. Did they expect me to carry a mountain of bills by myself like some kind of superhero? I ignored the threat, powered down my phone, and opened the classified dossier Rachel had just sent me. 3 The day before the ransom deadline, my father, entirely unable to reach me, decided to go live on social media. He intended to publicly crucify me into paying. On the screen, he covered his face, sobbing hysterically. “I do not know what kind of monster she has become. Her own sister is facing death, and she feels absolutely nothing.” “She knows our entire family is going bankrupt trying to save Isabella. Yet she is out attending luxury auctions, buying useless diamonds and paintings, and throwing millions at charities. She has an absolute fortune, but she refuses to save her own flesh and blood.” “What sin did I commit in my past life to raise a daughter so cold-blooded she would let her own family die?” My father had always been a minor celebrity in the business world. Backed by paid internet trolls and manipulated algorithms, his livestream skyrocketed to the number one trending spot nationwide. The internet was entirely consumed by the scandal. “Heiress Isabella Schmidtke Kidnapped! Ransom Hits Fifty Million!” “Older Sister Refuses to Pay Ransom While Buying Diamonds. The Decay of Human Morality!” “Mary Schmidtke is a Cold-Blooded Sociopath.” “Schmidtke CEO Publicly Disowned by Grieving Father.” The outrage was absolute. Fueled by my father’s manipulative tears, millions of netizens began boycotting Schmidtke Enterprise products. Refusing to let my mother’s company suffer, I logged into my verified corporate account and requested a live split-screen with his broadcast. “Father,” I started, my tone perfectly composed. “I have been working back-to-back night shifts preparing for the company’s IPO, barely sleeping two hours a day. Imagine my surprise waking up to find you publicly dragging my name through the mud. What exactly do you gain by destroying the family business?” “Isabella throws these little vanishing acts whenever she doesn’t get her way. Every single time, I have to wire her millions before she miraculously reappears. Just the other day, you kicked down the boardroom doors, demanding I sell my controlling shares to pay a fifty-million-dollar ransom. How am I supposed to know if she is genuinely in danger, or if this is just another extortion scheme the two of you cooked up to drain my accounts?” “This company is the legacy of my grandparents. It is the lifeblood of my late mother. I would rather die than sell my shares. I am sure Isabella, despite her rebellious nature, would agree with me and defend our family’s empire with her life.” I did not offer any further explanations. I did not shed fake tears or play the victim. I simply disconnected from the livestream and immediately posted an official announcement on the corporate page. In exactly two hours, I would be holding a live press conference. The venue was completely completely packed. Journalists from every major news outlet swarmed the room, shoving microphones into my face, demanding to know if Isabella was really kidnapped and if I was truly leaving her to die. I tapped the microphone, instantly silencing the chaotic room. Then, I dropped a bombshell that sent shockwaves through the entire country. “Acting as the absolute head of the Schmidtke family, I am officially announcing the immediate expulsion of Isabella from our lineage.” “My former sister, Isabella, has orchestrated over a dozen fake kidnappings and disappearances prior to this incident. Every single one ended with me wiring her massive sums of money just to make her stop.” “Those extortions ranged from hundreds of thousands to millions. This time, they escalated to demanding I sell the foundational equity of Schmidtke Enterprise to fund a fifty-million-dollar ransom.” “I do not know if her current predicament is real or just another theatrical performance. But I am exhausted. I have heard the boy cry wolf too many times, and I refuse to participate in these toxic, manipulative games any longer.” “Therefore, effective immediately, Isabella is stripped of the Schmidtke name. She is no longer an heiress, and she is permanently forbidden from using our family name to fund her lavish lifestyle or con investors. Moving forward, her survival is her own responsibility. Schmidtke Enterprise will no longer be her shield. Her life, or her death, has absolutely nothing to do with us.” The room erupted into total pandemonium. Camera flashes strobed like lightning. Reporters screamed questions, desperate for more details. I turned my back on them with sharp precision, leaving the chaos to Rachel and the public relations team.

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When my daughter wanted to attend the upcoming Comic-Con, I took her to a high-end specialty boutique to commission a fully custom, bespoke cosplay suit. My niece, whom I had been financially supporting for years, completely lost her mind when she found out. “You only give me a thousand bucks a month for living expenses! What gives you the right to drop ten grand on a costume for her?!” “I know I am just your niece, but you do not have to be so blatantly biased!” Her jealousy reached such a boiling point that she actually barged into my daughter’s college dorm, took a pair of shears to the ten-thousand-dollar bespoke outfit, and sent me a video of the shredded fabric to gloat. “Aunt Marcia, from now on, whatever my cousin gets, I get too. Otherwise, nobody gets to be happy!” “I will forgive your blatant favoritism this time, but you owe me two hundred thousand dollars to compensate for my emotional distress.” I did not even blink. I just dialed 911. “If you cannot reimburse the exact cost of that suit, you can pay me back with jail time!” 1 Inside a premium pop-culture boutique downtown, Harper was complaining at the top of her lungs. “Aunt Marcia, I know Jennifer is super into this geeky stuff, but there is absolutely no need to buy a cosplay suit this expensive!” “It is literally just an outfit she will wear once and throw in the closet. It is a total waste of money! And look at that custom wig. It looks completely unwearable for daily life. Why is it so ridiculously overpriced?” “My sorority is hosting a formal mixer next week. I begged you to buy me a designer evening gown and you refused, but now you are dropping thousands on a costume for Jennifer? You are so incredibly biased!” “Am I really worth that much less to you than she is?” Was she actually out of her mind? I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from cursing her out right there in the store. You are not my kid. The fact that I wire you a thousand dollars every single month just so you can live comfortably on campus is a blessing. How dare you act so entitled? Harper was my older brother’s youngest daughter. Her grades were decent, and she had gotten into the same university as Jennifer. However, my brother was incredibly old-fashioned and sexist. He refused to pay for a girl to go to college, expecting her to drop out and start working. Out of pity, I stepped in and promised to cover her tuition and living expenses for all four years. A few weeks ago, Jennifer mentioned a massive Comic-Con happening at the city expo center. She really wanted to go all out as her favorite character, so I brought her to this specialty boutique. We commissioned a tailored suit, custom props, and a styled wig. The total came to just over ten thousand dollars. Today was fitting day. Harper had found out I was heading to the shopping district and shamelessly tagged along, whining that she needed a new wardrobe. The moment she heard the final price tag of the cosplay suit, her fragile ego shattered, and she launched into her bitter tirade. I stared her down, my voice icy. “How I spend my money on my own daughter is absolutely none of your business.” Harper finally realized she had crossed a line. She quickly plastered a fake, overly sweet smile on her face. “Aunt Marcia, I didn’t mean it like that. I just know how hard you work for your money! It should be spent on things that actually matter, not on disposable trash that isn’t worth the price tag!” Trash? That was actually hilarious. As long as my daughter loved it, it was the best thing in the world to me. Twenty years ago, after giving birth to Jennifer, I was trapped in a nightmare. My ex-husband, Derek, was a violent monster. I begged my own family for help, but not a single one of them lifted a finger. Derek was a chronic cheater, addicted to gambling and cheap thrills. He racked up massive debts, and whenever he came home drunk, I was his punching bag. I tried to file for divorce, but the legal battle dragged on for years. My mental health completely deteriorated. I hit rock bottom. One night, I stood on the edge of a rooftop, holding my five-year-old daughter, ready to end it all. It was Jennifer’s tiny hands cupping my bruised face that stopped me. “Mommy, please don’t die. Please don’t…” she sobbed quietly. I fell to my knees, clutching her to my chest, crying until my vision blurred. Right then and there, I swore I would build a real life for us. I packed whatever fit in a duffel bag and fled to a different city. We lived in a damp, freezing basement apartment, but we were finally free from Derek. After two years of separation, the divorce was finally finalized. The very first thing I did after getting the papers was legally change Jennifer’s last name to mine. To keep us fed, I worked a grueling office job during the day, waited tables at night, and took in piecework to do at home while Jennifer slept. She was always right by my side, a quiet, sweet child who tried to help me however she could. Whenever I felt like I was going to collapse from exhaustion, I would look at her sleeping face and find the strength to keep going. We eventually upgraded from that basement to a decent apartment, and finally, to a beautiful, fully renovated house I bought with my own money. Nobody but the two of us knew how much blood and sweat went into getting here. Now that I was finally successful, I was going to spoil my daughter and support her passions unconditionally. 2 Seeing me pull out my premium credit card, Harper frantically grabbed my arm. “Wait, Aunt Marcia, let us make a deal! One of my roommates is a huge geek too. She has a bunch of costumes she only wore once. I will make her sell one to you for half price. Then you can use the leftover cash to buy me my formal gown!” “You really need to listen to me. Buying this is a financial mistake. It is barely any fabric and it costs a fortune! A designer dress for me makes so much more sense. It is for a very important networking event!” She actually reached over, trying to snatch my card out of my hand. I violently yanked my hand back, glaring at her with a deadly warning. “First of all, this is my money, and I will burn it if I want to. Secondly, you do not have the right to belittle my daughter’s interests. And thirdly, paying for your college is a favor, not an obligation. If you overstep again, I will cut you off completely.” Seeing genuine fury in my eyes, Harper finally snapped her mouth shut. Her face darkened with resentment. She spat out a venomous “You are going to regret this,” before turning on her heel and storming out of the boutique. Truth be told, I had no love for my brother. When I was fighting for my life during my divorce, he turned a blind eye. Everything I had, I built with my own two hands. The only reason I funded Harper was because she got into the same school as Jennifer, and I genuinely pitied her. She was so young. If she dropped out to flip burgers, my brother would absolutely force her into an arranged marriage just to collect a payout. I didn’t want her trapped in the same hell I barely escaped. I wanted her to graduate, get a solid career, and live a free, independent life. Since her freshman year, I had been giving her a thousand dollars every month. I took her out to nice dinners and bought her clothes. I had easily spent over thirty thousand dollars on her just in the last couple of years. Yet, Harper was a bottomless pit of complaints. She constantly whined that her allowance was not enough. Every holiday, she expected massive cash transfers. But a quick glance at her social media told a completely different story. Her feed was flooded with pictures of designer bags, limited-edition sneakers, and luxury skincare hauls. She was constantly flying out to VIP music festivals and buying ridiculous amounts of celebrity merchandise. Her latest post was a picture of her in an expensive dress at a concert with the caption: “Youth has no price tag! Dreams are priceless! Wearing this to see my favorite boyband is worth every penny!” She was living a much more extravagant lifestyle than my own daughter. When Jennifer had first heard the price of the custom suit, she felt guilty and suggested buying a cheap knockoff online. I was the one who insisted on getting the premium version. She rarely asked for anything. What was wrong with spending my hard-earned cash on her happiness? I did not expect gratitude for every dollar I spent, but Harper was taking me for an absolute fool. People who didn’t know better looked at her Instagram and assumed she was a trust fund baby. She was over eighteen now. She could easily get a part-time job or apply for campus grants. It was time to pull the plug on her free ride. I texted my brother, Marcus, asking him to meet me for lunch. I planned to make it clear that I would cover tuition, but the allowance was finished. The moment I stepped into the diner we agreed on, Marcus lunged at me. His face was twisted in rage as he swung his hand, delivering a blistering slap across my face. “Marcia, you have always been an ungrateful brat, but I thought you’d grown a brain by your age!” “Harper told me everything! You dropped ten grand on some stupid cartoon outfit for Jennifer, but you won’t even spend a fraction of that to get Harper a dress for her formal?” “What kind of aunt are you?! You know she has a massive networking event coming up! Are you trying to make my daughter the laughingstock of her entire university?” 3 The stinging heat on my cheek ignited pure, unadulterated rage in my chest. I had funded his daughter’s life out of the goodness of my heart, and her response was to run home, cry to her daddy, and have him physically assault me. No good deed goes unpunished. The old saying was dead right. Without a second thought, I grabbed a heavy glass beer bottle off the nearest table and smashed it squarely against his forehead. “Are you completely insane?! I pour my money and energy into your family, and you have the audacity to lay your hands on me!” Marcus stumbled back, clutching his bleeding forehead, screaming like a slaughtered pig. “You psycho! That is assault! I am calling the cops!” “You are an old man throwing a public tantrum. Have some shame!” I let out a chilling laugh. “This diner has security cameras. You hit me first. What I just did is called self-defense.” “And let me make this crystal clear. As of right now, I am not giving Harper another single cent. Oh, and that security job I pulled strings to get you? Don’t bother showing up tomorrow. You are fired.” “From this day forward, you and your toxic family are dead to me.” “You cannot cancel my job!” Panic instantly wiped away his anger. He kept one hand pressed to his bleeding head while reaching out to grab my coat with the other. “Marcia, you cannot be this heartless! If you cut Harper off, how is she supposed to eat? Are you really going to watch your own blood starve?” I sidestepped his grasp and planted a hard kick squarely onto his bad knee. “Not my problem. Rot in hell.” Leaving him groaning on the floor, I marched out of the diner, got into my car, and sped off. When I got home, Jennifer had her new cosplay suit on. She was spinning around, happily showing off the intricate details. She mentioned she wanted to book a professional makeup artist and asked if I would come with her to the convention. My eyes softened with overwhelming love. “Absolutely. I have my camera fully charged. I am going to take a million pictures of you.” I didn’t need her to cure cancer or become a billionaire. I just wanted her to be safe and happy. But the very next afternoon, Jennifer called me in tears, saying she was canceling her Comic-Con trip. Panic spiked in my chest. I asked her what was wrong. She refused to tell me the truth. She just mumbled that she didn’t want to go anymore and apologized for making me waste so much money. At that exact moment, my phone buzzed with a notification. Harper had sent me a video. A cold sense of dread washed over me. I hit play. The video showed Harper standing in Jennifer’s dorm room, holding a pair of heavy-duty fabric shears. With a smug, triumphant smirk, she violently snipped the ten-thousand-dollar bespoke suit into completely unrecognizable ribbons. I literally stopped breathing. Jennifer had been so excited yesterday. She just wanted to bring the suit to her dorm to show her roommates, and Harper had ambushed her. I didn’t waste a second. I drove straight to the university and pulled Jennifer out of her dorm. She collapsed into my arms, finally sobbing as she explained the nightmare she had endured. The night before, right after I left the diner, Harper had bombarded Jennifer with horrific text messages. “Jennifer, you are a selfish bitch! How can you sleep at night wearing a ten-thousand-dollar outfit while getting my dad fired from his minimum-wage security job?” “My dad has a bad leg. Trevor is unemployed. My entire family relies on my dad’s paycheck. Because of you, my allowance is gone and my dad is jobless!” “Your mom works hard for her money, and all you do is leech off her! If you want to dress up like a freak, get a job and buy it yourself. You are pathetic!” 4 Traumatized by the verbal abuse, Jennifer promised she would try to return the suit the next day. That was how Harper found out the costume was on campus. She immediately kicked open Jennifer’s dorm door with scissors in hand, destroyed the suit in front of the entire floor, and strutted away like she had won a prize. Jennifer had kept her mouth shut because she didn’t want to stress me out. Hearing this, a murderous fury consumed me. I grabbed Jennifer by the hand and marched straight to Harper’s dorm to confront her. To my absolute shock, Harper did not look scared at all. She actually looked incredibly proud of herself. “Oh, please. You give me a measly thousand dollars a month. Why should she get a ten-thousand-dollar outfit? That is ten months of my living expenses!” “Aunt Marcia, you should be thanking me. Jennifer is way too young to be wearing stuff that expensive. I am preventing her from developing toxic spending habits! I did you a favor!” “Besides, why are you being so unfair? She is your daughter, but I am your niece! You know my family is broke. Buying her something that expensive is basically a direct attack on my mental health!” “Whatever you spend on her, you legally owe me the exact same amount! Otherwise, I will develop severe self-esteem issues.” “I did the math. You have only supported me for two years. To make up for the eighteen years you ignored me, you owe me two hundred thousand dollars. Cut the check, and we are even.” I stared at her, completely stunned by the sheer magnitude of her delusion. How could a human being be this shamelessly evil? “Are you clinically insane?” I tapped my temple, staring at her in disbelief. “You need to be institutionalized. A functional member of society does not speak like this.” Harper rolled her eyes, scoffing loudly. “Save the drama. Transfer the money for my designer gown right now, and I will forgive you.” I pulled out my phone and immediately dialed 911. “Yes, police? I need to report the malicious destruction of private property.” Even as the officers arrived, Harper still believed she was entirely in the right. She acted like I was being dramatic. “We are literal family, and you are calling the cops?! After I defended you to my dad? You are a heartless bitch!” She had a death wish. I let out a dark chuckle. “Harper, I am done talking to you. If you do not reimburse the exact ten thousand dollars you destroyed, I am pressing felony charges. Enjoy prison.” I showed the officers the digital receipt, handed over the video Harper had proudly sent me, and had Jennifer’s roommates give their witness statements. Because the financial value of the destroyed property was so high, the police handcuffed Harper and dragged her out of the dorm. In the precinct holding cell, Harper finally started screaming in panic. “I didn’t do anything wrong! Why am I locked up?! You are all working together to frame me!” The desk sergeant looked at her with pure exhaustion. “Miss, we have a literal video confession and multiple eyewitnesses. You destroyed property valued at ten thousand dollars, which pushes this into felony territory. If you do not compensate the victim and she pursues charges, you are looking at one to three years in a state facility.” Harper completely froze. The reality finally hit her, and she frantically begged for her phone to call her dad. Marcus rushed into the precinct looking like a madman. He immediately tried playing the victim for the officers, crying about his bad knee, his unemployed son, and how poor his family was. He swore Harper was an angel who would never do something so malicious. Then, he spun around and unleashed his rage on me. “Marcia, you vindictive bitch! Cutting off her money was bad enough, but framing her for a felony?! You make me sick!” “Your brain must be rotting out of your skull!” I rolled my eyes, my voice dripping with biting sarcasm. “You should really be thanking your genius daughter. She filmed the crime and texted it to me herself. If she weren’t so incredibly stupid, getting her locked up would have taken way more effort!”

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