1 I have been a preschool teacher for five years. I treat every single kid in my class like my own flesh and blood. So when I had just seen off the last toddler and was about to clock out, the phone call from my director made my stomach drop. “Autumn, get back to the office right now.” Valerie’s voice was sharp. “Fiona’s dad is furious. He says she broke out in a severe rash. You need to get here and explain yourself.” My heart hammered against my ribs. Without thinking, I pivoted on my heel and started sprinting back toward the administration building. Then, lines of glowing crimson text abruptly materialized in my line of sight, floating in thin air. [Do not go back. Whatever you do, do not step into that office.] [Fiona is dead. She stopped breathing the second she got home. If you go back now, you are walking straight into a trap.] [They planted all the fake evidence in your desk. You will be framed for murder and put on death row. The internet mob will drive your parents to suicide.] My sneakers skidded to a dead halt on the concrete. Cold sweat drenched my spine in an instant. I rubbed my eyes hard. I wondered if I was having a hypoglycemic hallucination from being overworked. But the blood red warnings remained burned into my retinas, stubbornly hovering in the air. Parents and pedestrians walked right past the letters, completely oblivious. Only I could see them. Right on cue, the piercing wail of ambulance sirens echoed from a few blocks away. They were heading exactly toward Fiona’s neighborhood. My pulse pounded in my ears. I took a deep breath, forcing my panicked brain into logical overdrive. Something was deeply wrong. If it was just a rash and not anaphylactic shock, why would Valerie and the corporate board be making such a massive deal out of it immediately? My phone vibrated violently in my palm. A voice memo from Valerie. I tapped the screen. “Autumn, where the hell are you!” “Richard from the corporate board is doing an inspection today and he is pissed! You have exactly three minutes to get your ass in here!” “Come back, explain yourself, sign the incident report, and you are off the hook!” Her tone was utterly unhinged. It was dripping with a frantic, desperate energy. And why a strict three minute deadline? Why not tell me to rush to the hospital? The realization hit me like a bucket of ice water. If the floating text was real, they weren’t calling me back to deal with a rash. They were locking me in a room to pin a dead child on me. There were no security cameras in the director’s office. Once I stepped inside, it would be my word against theirs. The moment they “discovered” the planted evidence in my desk, my life would be over. I stared at the screen, my fingers curling into tight fists. I absolutely could not go back. But as the lead teacher, if I just bolted from the campus during a crisis, they would twist that into a confession. They would tell the cops I fled out of guilt. I needed an alibi. I needed an irrefutable, rock solid excuse for why I couldn’t make it to that office. If the warnings were right about the trap, I had to gamble my life to break out of it. I whipped my head toward the busy intersection right outside the academy gates. The crosswalk light was flashing yellow, warning pedestrians to clear out. A silver delivery van, loaded with cargo, was gunning the engine to beat the red light. It showed zero signs of slowing down. There was no time to hesitate. I shoved my phone into my pocket, zipped up my jacket, and sprinted straight into the crosswalk. The roar of the wind mixed with the ear piercing screech of rubber tires locking up. I calculated the van’s trajectory, took two hard steps to the right, and threw my entire body weight into the massive grille of the vehicle. A sickening, hollow thud rang out. A monstrous wave of kinetic force shattered into my left hip. Gravity ceased to exist. I was launched through the air, slamming brutally onto the asphalt and rolling four times before grinding to a halt. An agonizing, tearing pain ripped through my left leg. Warm, sticky liquid cascaded down my forehead, gluing my left eye shut. The van sat diagonally across the lanes about forty feet away, leaving two thick, black skid marks on the pavement. The driver kicked his door open. He was pale as a ghost, pointing a trembling finger at me and screaming. “Are you insane! You just jumped a red light!” A crowd swarmed instantly. Cell phones were pulled out. People were screaming for someone to call 911. Black spots danced in my vision. The pain was blinding. I bit down on my tongue so hard I tasted copper, using the metallic tang to anchor my fading consciousness. A patrol officer stationed near the intersection pushed his way through the crowd. “Back up! Give her space! Did someone call an ambulance!” The cop dropped to one knee beside me, grabbing his radio to call dispatch. I reached out with a trembling right hand and clamped my fingers onto the sleeve of his uniform. My knuckles turned white from the effort. The officer looked down at me. “Officer.” I gasped, staring directly into his eyes. “I was in a severe accident. Please. Make sure your bodycam captures the scene and my injuries. Document the exact time on your official report.” The cop frowned but immediately tapped the camera on his chest, ensuring the lens was angled at my bloodied face. “It’s recording. Just save your strength. The paramedics are two minutes out!” He gripped my wrist, shouting over the noise to keep me calm. A fraction of the tension drained from my muscles. It was exactly 4:15 PM. I was lying in a pool of my own blood down the street from the academy. No matter what documents Valerie forged in that office, no matter what exact minute Fiona was pronounced dead, I now possessed an unbreakable, heavily documented alibi. The ambulance wailed onto the scene. Paramedics hauled me onto a stretcher. My entire left leg was dead weight, my knee twisted outward at a grotesque, unnatural angle. The heavy doors of the ambulance slammed shut, cutting off the chaotic street noise. The EMT snipped my pant leg open with trauma shears and physically flinched. “Open tibial fracture. Let’s get a splint on this, now!” Cold antiseptic poured directly over the exposed bone. I bit down on a wad of gauze, swallowing my own agonized screams until my throat tasted like ash. My phone vibrated violently against the stretcher. The screen lit up. Valerie. I stared coldly at the flashing caller ID until the screen finally went black. Mercy General’s trauma center smelled like bleach and copper. The ER doc was brutally efficient, realigning the bone and setting the cast. Every time they manipulated the fracture, white hot lightning shot through my nervous system. I lay back on the thin pillow, my face drained of color, staring blankly at the harsh fluorescent lights. The patrol officer from the intersection walked into my bay holding a clipboard. “Autumn, the accident report is finalized. The driver was speeding to beat a yellow light. He’s fully at fault.” “Here is the official citation and report. I need your signature here.” I took the pen, scribbled my name, and locked my eyes on the timestamp at the top of the page. Time of incident: 16:15. I folded the thick yellow paper twice and shoved it deep into my sports bra. The curtain was suddenly ripped open. Jess burst into the room, her backpack slung over one shoulder, panting heavily. She was the assistant teacher in the classroom next to mine. She was also Valerie’s niece. Her eyes darted straight to my massive plaster cast. The corner of her mouth twitched in something that looked a lot like relief, before she slapped a mask of sheer panic onto her face. “Oh my god, Autumn! What happened to you!” “Valerie has been calling you non stop! We’ve been worried sick!” As she spoke, she immediately reached her hands under my pillow, blindly feeling around. “Where’s your phone? Let me text the director and tell her you are okay.” I raised my right hand and caught her wrist in a vice grip. Jess went pale, wincing as she tried to yank her arm back. “Autumn, what the hell, you are hurting me.” “My battery died.” I released her, keeping my gaze deadlocked on hers. “Why is Valerie looking for me?” Jess rubbed her wrist, her eyes darting away. “It’s about Fiona. The parents are going crazy. They are claiming she ate something toxic at school and broke out in hives. Valerie wanted you to come explain things.” “But obviously you can’t go back looking like this.” She forced a smile. “Just give me your desk keys. I’ll go through your drawers and see if I can find your lesson plans or anything that proves you did nothing wrong.” Liar. The red warning flashed in my memory: The fake evidence is in your desk. She wasn’t here to help me. She was here to get the keys so she could plant the lethal dose right in my private drawer. “No.” I planted both hands on the mattress and forced myself into a sitting position. The violent movement sent a shockwave of agony through my shattered leg. A fresh layer of cold sweat popped out on my forehead. “Fiona is my student. If her parents have questions, I am going to answer them to their faces. That is my job.” I said it loud enough for the hallway to hear. Jess’s face fell. She frantically pushed on my shoulders, trying to shove me back down. “Are you insane! The doctor said you can’t move! You are just going to make things worse!” “Who said anything about going to the school?” I swatted her hands away. “If Fiona had a severe allergic reaction, they called an ambulance. And this is the only level one trauma center in the district. She’s in this hospital, isn’t she?” Jess’s pupils dilated. She stammered, “Who… who said she was here? Stop guessing.” I ignored her and looked past the curtain at the patrol officer. “Officer.” I raised my voice, filling it with desperate urgency. “One of my students is having a medical emergency. The parents are extremely volatile right now. I cannot hide in this bed.” “Please. Find me a wheelchair and take me to the pediatric ICU. With a police officer present, we can keep the parents from getting physical.” The cop looked at my cast, then at Jess’s terrified, guilty expression. “Alright. I’ll grab a chair. I’ll escort you down.” He turned and walked out. Jess practically stomped her foot in frustration. She turned her back to me, ripped her phone out, and started furiously texting someone. The wheelchair squeaked against the linoleum as the officer pushed me down the seemingly endless corridors toward Pediatric Resuscitation. Before we even turned the corner, the sound of guttural screaming and shattering plastic echoed down the hall. A massive crowd clogged the corridor outside the ER doors. Fiona’s father, Marcus, had bloodshot eyes and was swinging a metal folding chair like a baseball bat, smashing it repeatedly into the drywall. Chunks of plaster rained down around him. Two dozen of Fiona’s relatives stood in a semi circle, weeping and screaming curses at the top of their lungs. Valerie was cowering in the corner. Her hair was a rat’s nest, her expensive blouse ripped at the collar. She was fake sobbing, hiding her face in her hands. When the crowd saw the cop wheeling me into the hallway, the screaming died instantly. A suffocating silence blanketed the room. Every pair of eyes locked onto me. Valerie lunged forward. She pointed a manicured finger so close to my face it almost poked my eye, spit flying from her lips. “Autumn! You have the nerve to show your face! What the hell did you feed that poor girl!” “Just to make a few extra bucks under the table from those shady supplement vendors, you fed her unapproved pills! You killed a child!” The hallway erupted. Marcus snapped his neck toward me. He dropped the metal chair and charged like a wounded bull. “You! You killed my little girl!” He kicked the wheelchair with everything he had. I went flying out of the seat, hitting the hard marble floor. The heavy plaster cast smashed against the tiles and cracked right down the middle. Freshly clotted wounds tore open. Bright red blood instantly soaked through the white gauze, pooling on the floor. Marcus stood over me, his eyes wide and psychotic, screaming until his vocal cords shredded. “You evil, murdering bitch! You poisoned my daughter for a goddamn kickback!” “You are a monster! I am going to tear you apart with my bare hands!” Other patients and bystanders in the hallway caught wind of the accusations. They closed in, disgusted, spitting vile insults at me. “Literal murderer! Looking all sweet and innocent while poisoning kids!” “Trash like her needs to rot in a maximum security cell!” A glob of spit flew from the crowd and landed on my cheek. The pain in my leg was making the room spin. I curled into a fetal position in my own blood, massive tears mixing with the cold sweat on my face. I bit down on my lip until it bled, my fingernails digging into my palms. “Back the hell off! Everyone step back!” The police officer roared, stepping over me and throwing his arms wide to hold back the mob. Marcus’s relatives surged forward, shoving the cop. Someone managed to slip a foot past the officer’s boots and viciously stomped on my back. Fighting through the dizzying pain, I forced my head up and looked at Valerie. Valerie, hiding safely behind the wall of angry family members, shot a subtle look at Jess. Jess immediately unzipped her backpack. She pulled out a clear evidence bag holding a small, empty plastic pill bottle. She held it high in the air, screaming like a banshee. “Look! Look everyone! I just found this hidden in the very back of Autumn’s desk drawer!” “The doctor just told us Fiona died from going into anaphylactic shock from an unknown chemical substance! This is what she gave her!” Seeing that empty bottle completely broke Marcus’s mind. He sidestepped the cop, grabbed a heavy red fire extinguisher off the wall bracket, and hoisted it above his head, aiming straight for my skull. “I’m sending you to hell to apologize to my baby!” “Put it down! You swing that and you are catching a felony charge right now!” The officer ripped his metal baton from his belt and struck the side of the fire extinguisher with a deafening crack. The metallic boom echoed through the hallway, making Marcus freeze for a split second. The cop pointed his baton straight at Jess and the plastic bag. “You’re claiming she fed the kid those pills. What time did this happen?” Valerie pushed her way to the front of the crowd, playing the heroic whistleblower. “Four thirty! Right before Fiona went home! I saw it with my own eyes. Autumn pulled her into a corner and slipped her the pills with her water!” “The girl was picked up at five, and she was dead before she even walked through her front door!” The officer slowly turned his head. He looked down at my broken body lying in a pool of blood, and then leveled a glacial stare at Valerie. “Bullshit.” The cop reached into his chest pocket and pulled out the yellow accident report with the bright red official police stamp. He unfolded it and held it up for the entire hallway to see. “Then look at this. What the hell is this?”

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1 For the past thirty days, I’ve been living inside Anna’s house, and she still has no idea I exist. It’s kind of a thrill, honestly. I know “phrogging” is technically a felony, but I didn’t plan on staying this long. I originally just needed a place to crash for a couple of nights. But her setup is just too perfect. She lives alone, she’s wealthy, and she’s completely blind. The first time I slipped inside was during a torrential thunderstorm. I popped the vent grating on the side of her luxury condo and slithered into her life like a cockroach. Because she’s blind, I don’t even have to hide in the crawlspace or the attic like I used to. I can sit right on her expensive leather sofa, watching her fumble her way to the kitchen to pour a glass of water. I can watch her change her clothes less than four inches away from my face. She has beautiful eyes. Even though they’re milky and unfocused, it always feels like she’s looking right at me. It gives me a sick, twisted sense of satisfaction. I log all her daily habits into my encrypted private blog. I titled it: Diary of Keeping a Blind Girl. Anna is a piano instructor. Her routine is as rigid as a machine. She wakes up at 8:00 AM, feels her way to the bathroom, practices piano at 9:00, and listens to audiobooks at 2:00 PM. As a seasoned phrogger, I mapped out her auditory blind spots by day three. I know exactly which floorboards creak. I know exactly when she turns on her loud robot vacuum so I can sneak into the kitchen and steal her food. The feeling of watching your prey living completely defenseless right under your nose… it’s addictive. I am addicted to this blind girl. I feel like I am her god. But I haven’t touched her. I haven’t even dared to steal a kiss while she sleeps. Once she goes to bed, I just lie down on the plush rug next to her mattress and breathe the exact same air she breathes. It makes me feel like, for once in my miserable life, I actually have a home. That was, until the day an unexpected man rang the doorbell. I peeked through the peephole. A heavy set man with a scarred, meaty face was standing there, gripping a steel hammer. Anna walked to the door, her hands trembling slightly as she unlocked it. I was watching through the crack of the bedroom door, calculating exactly how I was going to burst out and play the hero if things went sideways. But what happened next froze the blood in my veins. The moment the door swung open, Anna didn’t ask “Who is it?” Instead, she smiled at the empty hallway and said something that made my skin crawl. “You’re finally here. Come on in, he’s been waiting under the bed for a long time.” My heart completely stopped. I was literally lying flat on my stomach under her bed at that exact moment. Cold sweat dripped from my forehead onto the hardwood floor. In that split second, my mind raced. Did she see me? Has she been faking her blindness this entire time? But the man with the hammer just blinked, looking confused. He muttered, “Crazy bitch,” turned around, and walked away. She was bluffing. Or maybe she was just talking to herself to scare off intruders. I let out a long, shaky breath. The sheer adrenaline rush of a near miss made me even more euphoric. In this apartment, she was the owner, but I was the ghost. And the ghost sees everything. Anna locked the door and felt her way over to the grand piano. She sat down. I stood exactly six feet behind her, holding a bag of potato chips I had just swiped from her coffee table. Crunch. I bit down on a chip. The sound was deafening in the dead silent apartment. Anna’s fingers slammed on the brakes, hovering directly over the piano keys. She slowly turned her head. Her dead, milky eyes locked perfectly onto my exact position. I stopped breathing. Every muscle in my body locked up. I held the half chewed chip in my mouth, terrified to even swallow. This was the ultimate high. Dancing on the razor’s edge. If she were a normal person, she would be screaming for the cops right now. Too bad she’s blind. As long as I don’t make another sound, I am just air. Anna stayed frozen for about five seconds. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly, like she was trying to isolate a sound wave. Then, she shook her head. Her fingers dropped back onto the keys, and the booming classical music drowned out everything else. I smiled a silent, manic smile and swallowed the potato chip. A blind person’s world is pitch black. And in her darkness, I am the only speck of white. 2 I absolutely relished the absolute control I had. As a veteran phrogger, I have a strict set of rules: No noise. Do not move objects. Leave no scent. Every day, while she showers, I use her exact shampoo and body wash. That way, no matter how close I get to her, she only ever smells her own scent. It is the perfect camouflage. It’s also a deeply sick form of possession. That night, I was hiding in the hollow space above her walk in closet, updating my blog. Diary of Keeping a Blind Girl – Day 30: “Her piano playing was a little messy today. Probably spooked by that guy at the door. She is so fragile. Like a porcelain doll. But she is safe here, under my watchful eye. I am her guardian angel.” The blog is heavily encrypted. Only I have the password. It’s my trophy case. My proof of existence as an invisible man. At 2:00 AM, I heard movement below me. I peeked through the slats of the closet vent. Anna, wearing a thin silk nightgown, was sleepwalking toward the closet doors. She hadn’t turned on any lights. The pale moonlight washed over her face, making her look like a corpse. She slowly pressed her cheek against the wooden closet door. Her face was only half an inch of wood away from the bottom of my feet. She just stood there. Completely motionless. What the hell was she listening to? Did I snore? Impossible. I literally tape my mouth shut when I sleep. It’s a professional habit. She stood there listening for ten agonizing minutes. Then, the corner of her mouth twitched upward into the tiniest, most microscopic smile. The smile looked incredibly sinister in the moonlight, and then it was gone. She turned around and went back to bed. I lay flat on my back above the closet, my eyes wide open until the sun came up. That was the very first time I felt genuine fear toward the blind girl I was “keeping.” The next day, a different man showed up. This wasn’t a wrong door situation. He was specifically looking for Anna. He was wearing a wrinkled blue mechanic’s shirt with a cheap plastic badge that read “Building Maintenance.” I could tell instantly it was a fake. There wasn’t even a photo on the ID. “Who is it?” Anna asked through the closed door. “Maintenance. Checking the pipes,” the man grunted. His voice was raspy and reeked of stale cigarettes. Anna opened the door, but kept the heavy chain lock secured. “I didn’t call for maintenance,” she said, her voice tight with suspicion. “Building wide inspection. Gotta check every unit,” the man said, shoving his thick fingers through the gap, trying to reach the chain. I was crouched behind the shoe rack in the entryway, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles were white. A wave of pure, unadulterated rage hit me. This was my territory. She was my prey. Any other predator who stepped onto my turf needed to die. How dare this greasy piece of shit try to lay his hands on my property. Anna was visibly terrified. She tried to slam the door shut, but she wasn’t strong enough. The man wedged his heavy work boot into the gap, flashing a disgusting, yellow toothed grin. “Living all alone, huh sweetheart? Let me come in and take a look. I’m real good with my hands.” You didn’t have to be a genius to hear the vile threat in his voice. I glanced at the heavy ceramic vase on the console table next to me. It was Anna’s favorite piece. She dusted it meticulously every week. Right now, all I wanted to do was smash it repeatedly into the side of that man’s skull. Just as I grabbed the neck of the vase, ready to charge, the man suddenly yanked his foot back. It was like he sensed something. He snapped his head, staring directly toward the shoe rack where I was hiding. Maybe I was breathing too hard. Maybe he could feel the sheer malice radiating off me. The man muttered under his breath, “Jesus, it feels like a graveyard in there.” He let go of the door. Anna slammed it shut and locked the deadbolt with a loud click. She pressed her back against the heavy wood, slid down to the floor, buried her face in her knees, and started to sob. Her crying was muffled and completely helpless. It made my chest ache physically. I wanted to burst out of hiding, wrap my arms around her, and tell her not to be afraid. Tell her I was here. But I bit my tongue. I couldn’t blow my cover yet. I was a shadow, and shadows die in the light. I watched her cry, and the dark, twisted possessiveness inside me grew like a cancer. That guy wasn’t going to just walk away. I looked through the peephole. He hadn’t left the hallway. He crouched down by the baseboard next to her door and used a piece of chalk to draw a tiny, crude symbol on the wall. It was a burglar’s mark. It meant: “Single female. Easy target.” He was coming back tonight. I reached into my pocket and flicked open my switchblade. I wasn’t sleeping tonight. I was going to teach him that this house already had a master. 3 Midnight hit, and right on cue, the guy came back. He was garbage at picking locks. The deadbolt clicked and scraped loudly. Normally, Anna would have been wide awake from the noise. But I had crushed half a sleeping pill into her evening glass of milk. I needed her dead to the world so she wouldn’t witness the bloodbath I was about to cause. The door creaked open. The man crept into the apartment, a short hunting knife gripped tightly in his right hand. Using the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the window, he started making his way toward the master bedroom. I was standing flat against the wall right next to the breaker box. The second he stepped into the center of the living room, I threw the main switch. The already dim apartment was plunged into a suffocating, pitch black void. “What the fuck?” the man muttered, freezing in his tracks. The dark is a living nightmare for the blind. But for a phrogger? It’s an absolute playground. I slid my military grade night vision goggles over my eyes. The room instantly lit up in crisp, glowing green. I could see every pore on his sweating face. He was waving his hands in front of him like a blind man, completely disoriented. I picked up the heavy TV remote off the coffee table and hurled it as hard as I could at the far wall. SMASH. The plastic shattered loudly. The man spun around violently, slashing his knife at the empty air. “Who’s there?! Show yourself!” I didn’t make a sound. I slipped behind him with the silent grace of a ghost. I was barefoot, wearing thick wool socks. I made literally zero noise on the hardwood. I leaned in, putting my lips an inch from his ear, and blew a soft puff of cold air onto his neck. That single breath did more damage than a gunshot. The man violently flinched, his entire body convulsing in sheer terror. He spun around wildly again, staring into the pitch black abyss. “Ghosts… there’s a fucking ghost…” his voice cracked, laced with raw panic. I pulled a heavy steel wrench from my tool belt and swung it hard into his shinbone. Because he couldn’t see me, his brain processed it as some invisible, demonic force snapping his leg. “AGH!” He screamed, completely abandoning his plan to rob or assault anyone. He scrambled backward, tripped over his own feet, and dropped his knife on the floor. He crawled frantically toward the door, threw it open, and ran for the elevator. I waited until I heard the elevator ding and the doors slide shut before I flipped the breaker back on. The lights flickered to life. I knelt down and picked up his dropped hunting knife. Etched into the base of the blade was a strange logo. It looked like a URL emblem I had seen once on a deep web forum. Suddenly, the bedroom door clicked open. The sleeping pill wasn’t strong enough. Anna was awake. She leaned heavily against the doorframe, her face pale and exhausted. She stared blindly into the empty living room and whispered, “Thank you.” Every muscle in my body turned to stone. Who was she talking to? Me? Then, she pressed her palms together, bowing her head toward the ceiling. “Thank God. Please protect me and don’t let that man come back.” She was praying. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, feeling a strange twinge of disappointment. But it didn’t matter. As long as she was safe. What I didn’t know at the time was that the moment the intruder ran out of the building, he pulled out a burner phone and sent a text. The text read: “The bait is taken. The squatter is highly territorial. Pushing his boundaries further.” That logo on the knife was bothering me. But before I could look into it, everything went straight to hell. Three days later, right around noon, a courier dropped off a package for Anna. She thought it was her new braille books. She grabbed a pair of scissors and excitedly sliced through the tape. I was sitting criss cross under the dining table, watching her. The moment the cardboard flaps opened, a sickening, metallic stench of raw blood filled the apartment. Anna’s hands shook as she reached inside. Her fingers brushed against something furry and wet. It was a dead cat. Its throat had been slit. The blood was still warm. “AHHH!” Anna screamed, violently throwing the box across the room. She scrambled backward into the corner of the room, curling into a tight ball, shaking uncontrollably. It must have triggered the memory of her old guide dog. That dog had died under similarly mysterious circumstances a year ago. She cried so hard she hyperventilated, eventually passing out cold on the floor. Screw the rules. Screw staying hidden. For her, I would gladly turn from a ghost into a demon. I crawled out from under the table and scooped her up into my arms. She was so light. Her skin was freezing. I laid her gently on the couch. I stared at the mutilated cat, the killing intent boiling over in my veins. I picked up the blood soaked box. The return address was printed clearly on the label: Abandoned Textile Mill, Warehouse 3, City Limits. It was a blatant provocation. That bastard was declaring war. I poured a glass of water and set it on the table next to her. Before I left, I slipped a small piece of thick paper into her palm. I had spent weeks learning to write braille just for her. I used a pin to punch out the dots. The note read: “Don’t be afraid. I am here.” It was the first time I had officially broken cover and admitted I existed. I knew exactly what I was risking, but I didn’t care anymore. I was going to that warehouse, and I was going to slaughter that animal with my bare hands. 4 But when I got to the warehouse, it was completely deserted. It was a sprawling, rotting industrial wasteland. A single naked lightbulb hung from the ceiling in the center of Warehouse 3. I gripped my switchblade tight, stepping silently over the shattered glass and debris. Under the lightbulb was a folding table. On the table was an open laptop. I walked over and looked at the screen. The blood in my veins turned to ice. It was a live video feed of Anna’s living room. High definition. Perfect overhead angle. No blind spots. I watched the live feed as Anna woke up on the couch. She sat up. She held the braille note I had left her between her fingers. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t scared. Her face was completely, terrifyingly blank. She slowly ripped my note into tiny pieces, shoved the paper into her mouth, chewed it up, and swallowed it. Then, she slowly raised her head. Those milky, dead eyes locked flawlessly onto the exact location of the hidden camera lens on the ceiling. And she smiled. A massive, ear to ear, psychotic smile. She was smiling right at the camera. She was smiling right at me. It was a trap. There was no stalker. There was no threat. That guy with the knife was working with her! I ran out of that warehouse like a madman, sprinting until my lungs felt like they were going to burst. By the time I got back to the apartment, the locks had already been changed. But I had a spare key. The one Anna “hid” under the welcome mat. My hands shook violently as I jammed the key in and turned the deadbolt. The living room lights were blazing. The greasy mechanic who had broken in three nights ago was sitting on the leather sofa, casually flipping that hunting knife in his hand. He saw me, flashed those disgusting yellow teeth, and laughed. “Took you long enough, man. Been waiting.” “Where is Anna?” I growled, my voice rough and ragged. “In her bedroom. Sleeping like a baby,” the man stood up, twirling the blade. “What? You wanna play the knight in shining armor?” Looking at his smug face, every ounce of fear evaporated, replaced by pure, blinding rage. “Who the fuck are you?” “Doesn’t matter who I am. All that matters is you’re leaving in a body bag.” He lunged at me, driving the point of the knife straight at my chest. A month ago, I would have bolted. But right now, the only thing playing in my head was the image of Anna’s psychotic smile as she swallowed my note. I had been played. The absolute humiliation of being her pet was worse than death. I sidestepped his thrust, grabbed a heavy brass lamp off the console table, and brought it down hard on his skull. CRACK. The man stumbled, blood pouring down his forehead. But he didn’t drop. Instead, he let out a roar and tackled me around the waist. We hit the floor hard, violently rolling and thrashing across the hardwood. He had forty pounds on me, but I was ruthless. When you spend your entire life surviving in the shadows, you learn exactly where a human body is weak. I drove my thumbs deep into his eye sockets and slammed my knee upward into his groin. The man shrieked in agony. His grip loosened, and the knife clattered to the floor. I scrambled for it, grabbed the hilt, flipped him over, and pinned him to the floor with my knees on his biceps. I pressed the edge of the blade against his throat. “Wait… wait, please don’t…” he suddenly froze, his eyes widening in absolute, primal terror. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at something right behind me. “Run… she’s a…” He tried to warn me, but I didn’t give him the chance. I thought about the slaughtered cat. I thought about the helpless tears Anna had cried. Whether she was playing me or not, this piece of trash deserved to die. “Go to hell.” I drove the hunting knife deep into the side of his neck. Hot, thick blood sprayed directly across my face, burning my skin. The man convulsed violently beneath me for a few seconds, then went entirely limp. His eyes were still wide open, locked onto whatever was behind me. And in his dying gaze, I swear I saw… pity. Playing the hero sometimes means you have to become a monster. I sat there straddling the corpse, panting heavily, my hands slick with blood. The knife slipped from my fingers. I just killed a man. Right then, a soft click echoed behind me. The bedroom door opened. Anna walked out. She was wearing a pristine white silk nightgown, barefoot on the hardwood. She perfectly sidestepped the shattered lamp. She perfectly sidestepped the dead body. She even stepped neatly over the pooling blood. Her steps were confident and deliberate. She wasn’t walking like a blind person at all. She walked right up to me, crouched down, and gently reached out. Her thumb wiped a smear of blood off my cheek. Her skin was freezing cold, sliding against my face like a snake’s scales. I braced myself for her to scream. For her to run to the phone and dial 911. She didn’t. She didn’t even ask what happened. She just looked at me with those blank eyes and whispered in a soft, sweet voice: “It’s okay. We’ll just clean him up.” She stood back up, walked over to the front door, locked the deadbolt, and pulled the heavy blackout curtains shut. It was the practiced, methodical routine of someone preparing a kill room. I stared down at the corpse beneath me. One of his hands had fallen open, revealing a blood splattered leather wallet. I reached down and flipped it open. Inside was a heavy metal shield and a laminated ID card. The photo was a perfect match. Name: David Miller. Rank: Undercover Detective, Vice Squad.

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1 For the winter holidays, my parents urged my husband Sam and me to take my adopted sister Sophie and some of his relatives on a road trip into Alaska to see the Northern Lights. We reached the frozen tundra just as a massive blizzard struck. All three SUVs hit empty at once. Sophie stared at the deep snow and suggested shoveling it straight into the gas tanks. “It will melt into water, stretch the gas, and cool the engines,” she said. Sam smiled and agreed. His relatives praised her cleverness. In my past life, I had argued fiercely, warning that water would ruin the engines and leave us stranded at minus thirty degrees. Desperate to save everyone, I risked my life siphoning fuel into my car and driving blindly through the storm until I ran out, then walking for a full day and night. Frostbite destroyed my feet before I reached help. On the rescue mission, Sophie accused me of abandoning her for glory, threw a fit in the woods, and drew a pack of wolves that tore off both her legs. She lied to Sam, who raged and shoved me into the blizzard. I was devoured by wolves, nothing left of me. I blinked. Now I stood again in the freezing wind, on that same day. I rubbed my stiff hands together, forcing a bright smile. “Go for it. Snow means luck for the new year. Fill the tanks—we’ll drive even faster.” “People online say the gas up here is unrefined. If we put pure snow in, it will definitely clean out the fuel lines and save us money.” Sophie’s sickly sweet voice echoed in my ears. I reached down and pinched my own thigh hard. Pain. I really was reborn. “Aria, don’t be so grumpy. Let’s just listen to the group. Maybe this old wives’ tale is exactly what we need to get out of these mountains.” Sophie looked at me timidly, shrinking into her thick down jacket like I was some evil stepmother about to strike her. Sam and his relatives were all staring me down. If I dared to reject Sophie’s “genius” proposal, they would drown me in insults, calling me a selfish brat who didn’t care about the family. I kept my smile perfectly in place. “Sophie is so smart. I can’t believe you came up with such an eco friendly solution.” “Fill them up. Snow is just water anyway. It will be great.” Standing next to her, Sam gave me a rare, approving smile. “For once, you are actually being reasonable.” I didn’t want to waste another second arguing with them. My brain was already calculating a high speed escape plan out of this frozen graveyard. There were eleven of us in total, split between three off road vehicles. Originally, Sam and I were supposed to share a car. But Sophie claimed she was too cold and needed Sam to sit in the back with her so he could hold her and keep her warm. So, for the entire trip, I had been driving my own SUV completely alone. In my past life, my car had the most gas left. To keep them all alive, I left every single thermal blanket and emergency ration with them, venturing out into the deadly cold by myself. Having lived through death once, I absolutely refused to care about these ungrateful parasites. As long as I made it out alive, that was enough. According to my memories, there was an abandoned logging camp about fifty miles south that still had a working satellite relay. My car had enough gas to cover thirty miles. Luckily, I was a hardcore winter athlete. With my physical endurance, I could easily cover the remaining twenty miles on my emergency cross country skis before nightfall. The self heating MREs and thermal packs in my trunk would easily sustain me. With a concrete plan locked in my mind, my tense muscles finally began to relax. Just to be safe, I slipped my hand into the inner pocket of my parka and touched the cold plastic of my emergency satellite phone. It was a Christmas gift from him. In my past life, he was the one who found this shattered phone in the bloody snow where the wolves had attacked me. He had dropped to his knees, screaming in agony, slamming his forehead into the ice until he bled, blaming himself for not coming on this trip. The corners of my lips twitched upward. Pretending to adjust my scarf, I pressed and held the emergency SOS beacon. This time, I hoped he would take me home. Seeing the expensive, heated ski gloves on my hands, a flash of pure jealousy crossed Sophie’s eyes. “Aria, don’t you have a whole box of those chemical body warmers in your trunk? Why don’t you take them out and share them with the rest of us?” My stomach dropped. They wanted to steal my only remaining survival supplies? 2 “You have four boxes of them in your own car. I bought them for you. Why don’t you take yours out?” I shot back. Sophie pouted, acting completely entitled. “Aria, we are trapped in the Alaskan mountains. Heat equals life right now. You can’t just hoard all the heat sources for yourself.” I let out a dark laugh. Just an hour ago, she complained she was too hot and stuck those exact body warmers onto the car windows just to watch the frost melt for fun. Now she suddenly knew their value? Sam took a step forward, glaring at me coldly. “Take them out.” It was an absolute command, like he was talking to a disobedient dog. I took a deep breath, suppressing the icy rage building in my chest, and tried to reason with them one last time. “I packed these specifically for extreme weather emergencies.” “This is an emergency! Why are you still dividing things into yours and mine? We are a family!” Sophie interrupted me, playing the righteous victim. “We have to stick together when things get tough. If everyone was as selfish as you, how would any of us survive the night?” Right on cue, Sam’s relatives started throwing disgusted looks my way. “You’re a tough girl, you can handle the cold. Sophie is delicate. Bring the supplies out so we can distribute them evenly.” “Listen to your husband, Aria! Bring the stuff out before one of the elders has to force you.” “These spoiled rich city girls are all the same. Selfish and fragile. Not sweet and understanding like our Sophie.” Selfish? If it weren’t for the massive influx of cash I brought into the marriage to save Sam’s failing startup, his deadbeat relatives wouldn’t even have the money to go to a diner, let alone a luxury vacation. Even these three SUVs were bought with my trust fund. I suddenly understood why fate put me back on this exact trip. Extreme environments force the ugliest parts of human nature into the light. This was the universe giving me one final warning. Seeing that I wasn’t moving, two of his cousins marched over and aggressively popped my trunk, looting every single supply bag I had. I stepped forward to stop them, but they grabbed my arms and violently shoved me face first into the snowbank. I lay there, watching helplessly as they scooped up wet, freezing snow and dumped it directly into the open gas tank of my SUV. Without pure gasoline, my car would stall out in this extreme cold. I would freeze to death. “Give me my thermal packs back.” I struggled to push myself up. Sophie took the opportunity to grab a handful of icy snow and violently shove it down the collar of my jacket. She leaned in, her voice dripping with venom. “Shut your mouth! If you make another sound, I’ll shove ice down your throat.” The freezing snow slid down my bare spine. I violently shivered, coughing hard, looking completely pathetic as I crawled in the snow. Seeing me humiliated, the relatives erupted into cruel laughter. “Is this really the high and mighty Mrs. Kensington? She looks like a frozen stray dog! Hahaha!” I gritted my teeth, pushed myself off the ground, and raised my hand to slap Sophie across her smug face. Before I could make contact, a vicious grip clamped down on my wrist. Sophie realized what was happening, and instantly backhanded me across the face with all her strength. Smack! Sam froze, instinctively letting go of my wrist. My boots slipped on the ice and I crashed to the ground. My cheek instantly swelled, burning with a stinging heat. Sophie immediately hid behind Sam’s broad shoulders, trembling like a leaf. “I’m so sorry, Sam. Aria tried to hit me first. I just panicked. I was so scared.” Sam looked down at me, holding out a hand with a look of utter disgust on his face. “Get up. Stop embarrassing yourself in front of my family.” I blinked back the hot tears forming in my eyes and tilted my head up, staring directly into his soul. “Sam, I want a divorce.” “Sophie just had a trauma response. She didn’t do it on purpose. Why are you throwing a tantrum on Christmas?” Sam shielded Sophie with his body, watching me like I was a wild animal about to rip out his precious darling’s throat. A wave of absolute exhaustion washed over me. A tantrum? From the day we got married, anytime I didn’t completely bow to his demands, I was “throwing a tantrum.” When I refused to lend more money to his endless line of grifter cousins, I was throwing a tantrum. When I refused to quit my career to become a stay at home housewife, I was throwing a tantrum. Whenever Sophie shed a single fake tear, it was always my fault for throwing a tantrum. “Sam, this marriage is dead. Getting a divorce is the best thing for both of us.” This marriage had corroded my dignity until there was nothing left. Ten years ago, I found Sam sitting in the dark corner of the university library, eating stale bread. His hands were swollen and bleeding from frostbite, but his eyes were glued to his textbooks with an intense, burning determination. 3 My heart had broken for him. I secretly paid his entire semester’s tuition and forged a letter claiming it was an anonymous school grant. Sam worked hard. He secured a full ride for his master’s, and when he started his tech company, he worked himself to the bone. During a site visit to a new warehouse, the roof collapsed. He threw his body over mine, taking the brunt of the falling debris. His back was torn to shreds, requiring twenty stitches. He had laid in that hospital bed, pale and sweating from the pain, but he still smiled and comforted me. “Don’t be afraid. As long as I am breathing, I will always keep you safe.” After that, it was only natural that we got married. But somewhere along the line, his eyes started lingering on my adopted sister, Sophie. She came from the same dirt poor background he did. Her constant, pathetic damsel in distress act reminded him of his own past struggles. Eventually, his entire heart shifted completely to her. I stumbled to my feet, lunged forward, and snatched my car keys right out of Sophie’s pocket. I scrambled into the driver’s seat and hit the ignition. The moment the engine roared to life, a heavy weight lifted off my chest. I was finally getting away from these monsters. But a second later, Sam stepped directly in front of the hood. I slammed on the brakes, my forehead smashing violently against the steering wheel. Sam marched over to my window and slammed his fist against the glass, his eyes flashing with annoyance. “Stop acting crazy! The blizzard is picking up. If you drive off alone, you are committing suicide.” Sophie trotted over, linking her arm through Sam’s, shooting me a provocative, mocking smile. “Aria, stop acting like a spoiled princess. Your SUV has the highest clearance and the best snow tires. If you drive away, what are we supposed to do?” Her words instantly rallied the relatives. “Exactly! We are a family, we stay together.” “Drag her out! We keep the car. We can all squeeze in, it will share body heat.” I let out a cold laugh. “This car is under my name. It was bought with my money. Why the hell should I give it to you?” In fact, all three cars were registered under my name. A cousin yelled angrily, “It’s a matter of life and death! Who cares whose name is on the title right now!” I rolled my eyes. “Your car is packed to the roof with your stupid holiday gifts and booze. Where am I supposed to sit? Are you giving up your seat for me?” The cousin went dead silent. Sophie tilted her head, faking a look of sweet innocence. “Aria, don’t you love extreme winter sports? You could just sit up on the roof rack! I bet it’s way more thrilling than skiing, and you get a great view.” The sheer absurdity of the comment should have been met with silence, but the relatives eagerly jumped on it. “Yeah, the roof has great visibility. If she loves adrenaline so much, she can enjoy the ride.” “Don’t worry, we brought heavy bungee cords for the luggage. We’ll strap you down tight. You won’t fall off.” “It’s a VIP observation deck. You can post photos on Instagram when we get back.” Sam let out a heavy sigh. Just as I thought he was finally going to shut down this psychotic idea, the words that left his mouth plunged my soul into an ice bath. “You have a strong constitution. Just bundle up. You can survive sitting on the roof for a little while.” The very last spark of hope I had for him died in that instant. I slammed my foot on the gas pedal, ready to run him over. Sophie shrieked, “She’s trying to run! Grab her!” The mob swarmed the car. Someone grabbed a heavy rock and smashed my driver’s side window. Hands reached in, violently grabbing my hair and clothes, dragging me kicking and screaming out of the vehicle. I thrashed wildly, kicking my boots to break their grip. “Ah!” Sophie let out a piercing cry, clutching her stomach and dropping to the snow in agony. “Sam, why did Aria kick me in the stomach?” Sam violently shoved me aside and rushed to gather Sophie into his arms, his face pale with panic. I froze for a second, instantly defending myself. “I didn’t even touch her! I am wearing heavy snow boots, I would feel it if I kicked a person.” Sophie buried her face in Sam’s chest, massive tears rolling down her cheeks. “Aria, I shouldn’t have tried to stop you. Please don’t kick me again. It hurts so much. I think something is bleeding inside.” Hearing that, Sam’s face hardened. He turned his head, his eyes slicing into me like butcher knives. “Apologize to her!” “I didn’t do anything wrong! Why should I apologize? Are you too stupid to see she’s acting?” The relatives immediately started screaming at me. “You were thrashing around like a lunatic! You definitely kicked her.” “Sophie is too pure to lie about something like this. Get on your knees and apologize right now!” 4 Sophie’s face was deathly pale, her entire body trembling. “The wind is so strong. My face hurts.” She buried her face deeper into Sam’s coat. Sam glared at me with pure hatred. “Aria! Look at how terrified you’ve made her!” A mocking smirk crossed my lips. “If you wait any longer, her fake tears are going to turn into icicles.” Sophie forced a weak, pathetic smile, looking at me with big, puppy dog eyes. “Aria, you don’t have to apologize. But could I please borrow your extreme weather parka? The jacket I’m wearing is too thin. My stomach is freezing.” The parka I was wearing was a custom, expedition grade mountain coat. He had specifically commissioned it from overseas as a gift for me. It was completely windproof, waterproof, and designed to withstand the harshest elements on earth. I rejected her without a second thought. “I have severe cold urticaria! If I take this off, the temperature drop will send me into anaphylactic shock. No!” Sophie let out a pained, dramatic groan. “Forget it. My life isn’t worth as much as my sister’s precious body.” Sam’s face turned absolutely lethal. “What fake allergy are you making up now? You are just looking for excuses to be a selfish bitch.” “I am going to count to three. Take the coat off.” “One. Two.” He didn’t even make it to three. His patience completely snapped. He lunged forward, pinned my shoulders down, and violently ripped the zipper of my parka open. The brutal arctic wind instantly hit my chest. I was only wearing a thin thermal shirt underneath. The biting cold slashed against my bare skin like a barrage of razor blades. Sam gently draped my custom parka over Sophie’s shoulders, carefully zipping it all the way up to her chin to make sure she was warm. Looking at the two of them made me physically nauseous. I turned around and started to run. Before I made it two steps, Sam grabbed the back of my collar and yanked me backward. “It’s just a damn coat! How long are you going to keep throwing this tantrum!” The word “tantrum” ignited a nuclear explosion in my brain. I spun around and slapped Sam across the face with every ounce of strength I had left. “I don’t throw tantrums. I just beat animals!” A bright red handprint blossomed across Sam’s cheek. Sophie shrieked in horror. “Are you insane?! How dare you hit him!” Sam ran his tongue over his split lip, tasting the blood. His expression turned completely demonic. “Aria, you are hopelessly stubborn. It seems you need a serious wake up call.” My stomach plummeted. A terrifying chill spread through my veins. “Since you refuse to sit on the roof, you can run behind the car. Let’s see if that cools your temper.” My eyes went wide with sheer terror. “Sam, it is negative thirty degrees! You are going to kill me!” Two of his massive cousins tackled me into the snow. They grabbed my wrists and bound them tightly with a heavy nylon tow strap. They hooked the other end of the strap to the metal tow hitch on the back of the SUV. “When you are ready to admit you were wrong, I’ll let you inside.” Dropping that final, heartless sentence, he turned his back on me and climbed into the driver’s seat. The engine revved. The car lurched forward. I was violently jerked off my feet, stumbling blindly through the deep snow as the vehicle picked up speed. I couldn’t run fast enough. I tripped and slammed face first into the icy ground. The car didn’t stop. I was being dragged. The jagged ice and frozen rocks shredded through my thin clothes, grinding against my skin like sandpaper. The paralyzing cold began to shut down my nervous system. Panic consumed me. I screamed at the top of my lungs. “Stop the car! Sam, I am going to kill you!” I could hear Sophie’s high pitched, mocking laughter echoing from inside the warm cabin. They completely ignored my screams. The SUV drifted hard to avoid a massive pine tree. The centrifugal force whipped my body outward, slamming me brutally against the thick wooden trunk. My vision went entirely black. Warm blood poured down my forehead, instantly freezing into crimson ice chunks on my eyelashes. Absolute despair crushed my chest. The primal instinct to survive erased whatever dignity I had left. I started crying and begging. “I’m sorry. I was wrong. Please. Let me go.” The roar of the engine drowned out my pathetic pleas. The car showed zero signs of slowing down. I was really going to die in this white hell. My consciousness began to fade into a numb, peaceful dark. But then, through the haze, I heard the deafening, rhythmic chopping of helicopter rotors. A massive, blinding spotlight pierced through the blizzard, locking dead onto the SUV. A man’s voice, amplified by a loudspeaker and vibrating with world ending fury, boomed from the sky. “Sam, you are a dead man!” At that exact moment, thick, black smoke began pouring out of the hoods of all three SUVs. The vehicles sputtered violently and died. One of the cousins inside screamed in panic. “Oh my god! The engines just seized!”

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1 On my very first day back with my obscenely wealthy biological family, I maxed out the million dollar compensation card my mother gave me. Cinda, the fake daughter who had lived my life, doubled over in laughter looking at the mountain of rice, flour, and cooking oil piled in the courtyard. “Are you trying to turn the estate into a wholesale warehouse? The Sinclair mansion isn’t a refugee camp.” My biological brother, Preston, kicked over a box of MREs I had just unloaded. “You really can’t teach trash to be classy. You get a little bit of cash and instantly buy this garbage. You country hicks have zero vision!” My biological parents stared at me with ice cold expressions and froze my supplementary credit card on the spot. “If we knew you were going to be this much of an embarrassment, we never would have brought you back!” In this life, I didn’t bother explaining myself. I simply reached down and quietly fed a piece of premium Wagyu beef to the golden retriever sitting by my feet. Sure enough, the dog’s inner voice echoed perfectly in my mind. [Eat up while you can. The apocalyptic rainstorm hits in exactly three days. This entire stuck up neighborhood is going to drown in mud!] I patted my pocket, feeling the crisp deed to an abandoned mansion up in the hills. Let’s see if they are still laughing three days from now. “Are you doing this just to spite Mom and Dad?” Cinda pointed at the boxes of instant ramen at my feet, looking absolutely heartbroken. “I know you resent us since you just got back. But you shouldn’t degrade yourself like this, and you definitely shouldn’t drag the Sinclair family’s reputation down into the mud.” “These things smell awful. How could you bring them inside?” Preston pointed a finger right in my face and yelled. “Riley, do you think we mistreated you? You purposely blew a million bucks on cheap junk just to make us the laughingstock of the city’s elite!” Eleanor’s eyebrows were pinched together in deep disgust. There wasn’t a single trace of joy in her eyes upon finding her biological daughter. There was only bitter resentment. “If we knew you were going to be this humiliating, we would have left you out in the sticks! Alfred, cut off her card immediately.” My father, Winston, glared at me with pure disdain, not even wanting to look at me for another second. In this life, I didn’t try to desperately explain myself like I did in my past life. I didn’t warn them about the apocalyptic floods coming in three days. I crouched down and fed another piece of meat to Buster, the golden retriever rubbing against my leg. He swallowed the Wagyu whole and wagged his tail in absolute bliss. [Oh man, this beef is insane! Gotta eat the good stuff now. The world ends in three days.] [These idiots are still obsessed with acting rich. Pretty soon they won’t even have warm shit to eat.] Buster bared his teeth, growling at Cinda and Preston. [These people run their mouths too much. You want me to bite them right now to help you vent, Mom?] I quickly wrapped my arms around his neck. “Good boy, ignore them.” I couldn’t let Buster get beaten to death and eaten by the Sinclairs like he did in my past life. Cinda sneered. “Wow, what a lovely mood you’re in. Are you really that starved for affection since moving to the city?” “Calling a dumb animal your son? Doesn’t that make Mom and Dad the animal’s grandparents, and Preston the dog’s uncle?” The moment those words left her mouth, the Sinclairs’ faces turned livid. I shot her a sideways glance. “You? You aren’t even qualified to be Buster’s family.” Cinda’s face went pale. Her eyes instantly welled up with tears. She looked at our parents with overwhelming grievance. Winston stormed forward and slapped me hard across the face. “You ungrateful brat! You just got back and you’re already turning this house upside down!” “You have absolutely zero manners. You are a complete disgrace to the Sinclair name!” Eleanor pulled Cinda into a protective hug, looking at me with nothing but bitter disappointment. “Cinda has been an angel since she was a little girl. We never had to worry about her. You should learn from her on how a proper young lady from a prestigious family behaves.” “Learn what? How to act like a pathetic, manipulative hypocrite?” Winston exploded in rage. “You dare talk back! Security! Throw Riley and all her garbage out onto the street right now!” Several heavily built bodyguards stepped forward, ready to grab me. I took a step back. “Don’t touch me. I know how to walk.” The guards roughly tossed the emergency supplies I bought out the front doors. Preston stood in the doorway, a cold sneer on his face. “Cinda is the only treasure of this family. If you bully her, you deserve to get kicked out!” Cinda smiled, looking incredibly smug. “Please don’t do anything reckless, sister.” “I hope you and your precious junk can survive out there on your own. Don’t come crawling back to drag us down.” I ignored her venomous taunts. I pulled out my phone and ordered five of the largest moving trucks available. In less than ten minutes, the trucks pulled up to the Sinclair estate gates. I directed the drivers to load up every single box of supplies from the courtyard. The destination was the abandoned mansion complex at the very top of the mountain. It was a failed real estate project Winston threw at me like a scrap of charity just to pacify me. Once everything was loaded, I looked back at the family of four standing on the marble steps. I flashed them the brightest, most radiant smile. “Thank you for letting me go. See you never.” The Sinclairs looked at me like I was a psychiatric patient. “Did she lose her mind? She just got kicked out and she’s smiling?” “Thank god we got rid of her, otherwise she really would have ruined our reputation in the high society circles!” 2 “Driver, stop right up ahead at that unfinished mansion.” The place was desolate. It didn’t even have proper doors or windows, but the elevation was incredibly high. When the biblical floods hit in three days, this would be the absolute safest spot in the entire city. I stared at the mountain of cardboard boxes on the concrete floor, but my brows furrowed. This amount of supplies was barely enough to survive a standard natural disaster. To outlast months of apocalyptic extreme freezing temperatures and endless rain, it wasn’t even close to enough. Thankfully, before they froze my supplementary card, I managed to withdraw the remaining seven hundred thousand dollars in cash. I took Buster back down the mountain for round two of a massive shopping spree. However, after hitting three major wholesale club stores, I came up completely empty handed. “Sorry miss, we aren’t selling rice or flour to individuals today.” “Apologies, all our canned goods and MREs are out of stock. The warehouse is empty.” “The boss said we aren’t taking any customers right now. Try somewhere else.” Refusing to give up, I tried placing orders online. The apps either showed system errors or claimed they were doing inventory checks. Every single order was canceled without exception. A heavy sense of dread settled in my stomach. In my past life, hoarding supplies before the apocalypse was incredibly easy. As long as you had the cash, no one cared how much you bought. But in this life, I was hitting brick walls at every turn. Why was this happening? Did someone else know the storm was coming? [It’s that evil witch Cinda playing tricks again!] Buster’s inner voice practically growled with rage. [She used the Sinclair family’s connections to blacklist you with every major supplier in the city! She wants to watch you starve to death on the streets!] Buster suddenly pivoted, barking aggressively at a spot down the street. [The bitch who bullied my mom actually showed up! Watch me bite her face off!] A flashy red sports car slowly pulled up to the curb. It was Cinda. “Sister, it’s so late and you still haven’t gone home. Oh my, are you really homeless now?” She looked at my empty shopping carts, feigning shock. “Couldn’t buy anything? Are you out of money? Do you want your little sister to lend you a few bucks?” Preston, who was sitting in the driver’s seat, let out a harsh laugh. “Why would she go home? Let me make this clear, Riley. As long as the Sinclairs are in power, you won’t be able to buy a single grain of rice in this city! I want to see exactly how long you and your pile of garbage can survive!” “This is what happens when you disrespect our family!” The look in his eyes was identical to the look he gave me in my past life when he shoved me toward that pack of violent men. In my past life, the floodwaters trapped everyone. I told them I could understand animals. I told them I knew where a safe shelter was, and where we could find clean food. They didn’t believe me. They called me a lunatic. Cinda had smiled and said, “Since sister is so capable, why don’t you go out and trade yourself for some food for us?” Then they literally sold me to a filthy, overweight creep in the neighboring mansion for a single box of expired canned beans. Buster was beaten to death by them and boiled into a pot of dog meat stew. All because Cinda mentioned she was craving fresh meat. I took a deep breath, forcing down the violent hatred boiling in my chest. Buster sensed my rising anxiety. [Don’t be scared, Mom! Do you really think your son is a pushover?] [In these streets, I am a very respected guy!] With that, Buster trotted right into the middle of the empty street and let out a piercing, dominant howl. “Awooooo!” In less than five minutes, exactly ninety nine stray dogs poured out from every alleyway and side street! There was a husky missing half its tail, a one eyed poodle, a scarred pitbull. My mind instantly exploded with a chorus of canine voices. [The boss’s mom is our mom!] [Who dares to bully her? I just sharpened my teeth!] Buster strutted to the front of the pack, looking like an absolute warlord. [If the big stores won’t sell to our mom, we’ll find those hidden mom and pop shops in the back alleys!] [Also, if you see those two Sinclair brats, bite them until they bleed!] [Yes, Boss!] Ninety nine dogs barked their agreement, the sound echoing like thunder. I looked at my brand new Stray Dog Scavenger Squad and my eyes welled up with tears. “You are the best son ever. Let’s go shopping!” 3 Buster took the lead, perfectly avoiding all the upscale commercial districts controlled by the Sinclair family. We dove deep into the rundown industrial zones and forgotten neighborhoods. A Shiba Inu missing half an ear led me to a wholesale grain distributor hidden deep in a labyrinth of alleyways. [This boss is a good guy. He used to feed me sausages. His warehouse is packed!] Without hesitating, I bought out the owner’s entire inventory. Five thousand pounds of rice, three thousand pounds of flour, and dozens of industrial barrels of cooking oil. A chubby Corgi led me to a meat canning factory that was on the verge of bankruptcy. [Mom, the labels are ugly, but it’s one hundred percent real meat inside! I sniffed it, it’s amazing!] I waved my hand and bought ten thousand cans of beef stew and five thousand cans of preserved fruit. For the entire afternoon, guided by my loyal pack, I went on an absolute spending spree. I bought pallets of MREs, emergency rations, gallons of purified water, extreme weather arctic gear, and even crates of medical alcohol and antibiotics. Every time I made a purchase, I had the moving trucks deliver it straight to the abandoned mountain mansion. By the end of it, the cash in my bag was practically gone. But it still wasn’t enough. The unfinished mansion was completely exposed to the elements. It would never hold up against the extreme cold and floods. I walked into a high end security door and window dealership. The owner took one look at my casual clothes and practically ignored me. I let out a cold laugh and slammed the premium Sinclair Corporation executive access card Winston had given me onto the glass counter. “I am Riley Sinclair. The eldest daughter of the Sinclair family.” “My father is building a private apocalypse bunker up on the mountain. We need maximum grade bulletproof glass and reinforced steel vault doors.” “Send the entire bill directly to the Sinclair Corporation’s finance department.” It would be a crime not to fleece the Sinclairs while I still could. The owner’s eyes practically turned into dollar signs. “Rest assured, miss! My materials are military grade!” “Move fast. I need everything installed by tonight. If you delay my father’s project, your business will be ruined.” The owner nodded frantically and immediately rallied his best construction crew. Using the exact same tactic, I financed three heavy duty diesel generators, dozens of tons of fuel, and a complete solar powered central heating system. All night long, the abandoned mansion blazed with floodlights. The construction crew worked with frantic energy. Bulletproof glass was slotted into the frames. Thick steel vault doors were welded shut. Top tier insulation panels were bolted to the concrete walls, and a smart climate control system was wired throughout the entire property. It wasn’t until early the next morning that all the renovations were finalized. After the crew packed up and left, I locked the final biometric steel door. The massive room was lined with perfectly organized crates of food and supplies. The air was comfortably warm. Buster sprawled out on a plush wool rug, rolling around in pure comfort. This impenetrable fortress filled me with an overwhelming sense of security. Just as I was about to boil a pot of ramen to reward myself, a violent pounding echoed from the front gates. I frowned and walked over to the security monitors. Outside stood several men in official uniforms holding clipboards. “Listen up inside! We are from the City Planning Department!” “This unfinished property is classified as an illegal structure. We are preparing it for explosive demolition!” “You have ten minutes to evacuate the premises!” I froze completely. Demolition? In my past life, this building stood tall for years. Why was it suddenly being torn down? 4 My mind went completely blank. My phone buzzed. It was Cinda. “Riley, do you hear the commotion outside?” “Are you surprised? Are you shocked?” I stared dead at the security monitors, gritting my teeth. “You did this?” Cinda’s laughter was piercing and arrogant. “That ugly ruined building was such an eyesore on the mountain. I just acted a little spoiled and Daddy pulled some strings to move the demolition date up.” “You love hoarding trash so much, right? Then you can get buried under the rubble with all your garbage!” “So what if you are the biological daughter? I am still the one Mom and Dad love the most!” I trembled with sheer rage. Buster’s tail slapped the ground anxiously. [There are a lot of people outside!] [The bad guys are trying to tear Mom’s house down! We haven’t even eaten those meat cans yet!] I looked down through the bulletproof window. On the winding mountain road, three massive yellow excavators were roaring up the incline. Trailing right behind them was that familiar red sports car. Preston waved his hand, signaling the demolition crew to start tearing the walls down. “You can’t let them do this!” I rushed to the control panel, preparing to activate the newly installed high voltage electric perimeter fence. “Final warning! If you don’t come out, we are bringing the house down with you inside!” I kept my hand hovering over the kill switch, my palms slick with cold sweat. If I triggered the electric grid now, it would become a massive legal incident. I might be dragged off to jail before the storm even hit. But if I backed down, all the supplies I spent my life savings on would be crushed! Weighing my options, I pulled open the heavy steel vault door. “Stop right there!” Buster charged out right beside me, barking aggressively at the massive construction vehicles. Preston curled his lip in disgust. “Let me spell it out for you, Riley. This house is coming down today! No one can stop it!” Cinda doubled over in laughter. “A stupid woman and a dumb animal trying to stop heavy machinery? Pathetic!” She lifted her chin at the crew foreman. “What are you waiting for? Tear it down! If anything happens, I’ll take full responsibility!” “I’d like to see you try!” I threw my arms wide, planting my body directly in front of the building. The massive steel claw of the excavator swung upward, whistling through the air, ready to crash down on my roof! [Mom, watch out!] Suddenly, an apocalyptic clap of thunder shattered the sky directly above us! The sky, which had only been slightly overcast, instantly turned as pitch black as midnight. The very next second, torrential rain mixed with jagged chunks of hail smashed into the earth. Cinda, wearing a designer slip dress, shrieked as the freezing ice hit her skin. “Preston, it’s freezing! I’m getting soaked, I need to go home and take a hot bath!” The construction crew immediately started panicking. “Boss, the rain is too heavy! Zero visibility. We can’t operate the rigs safely!” “Yeah, the mountain roads are going to wash out. This is a massive landslide risk!” The foreman looked up at the terrifying, unnatural weather and immediately backed out. “Mr. Sinclair, Miss Sinclair, these conditions are extremely unsafe. We are pulling out! Safety first!” Preston scowled at the torrential downpour, but had no choice but to grab Cinda and jump back into his sports car. Standing in the absolute downpour, soaked to the bone, I actually smiled. Buster spun around in circles, completely thrilled. [The storm came early! The apocalypse is here!] Preston slammed the gas pedal, his sports car skidding dangerously on the muddy mountain road, nearly crashing through the guardrail. He managed to stabilize it and sped recklessly down the mountain. I watched their taillights disappear into the wall of rain, a cold smirk crossing my lips. Run. Run back down to your luxurious mansion in the lowest elevation valley in the city. This rain isn’t something a hot bath is going to fix. The rain poured down in Biblical sheets, as if the heavens had been ripped wide open. In just two hours, the outside world became entirely unrecognizable. The winding mountain roads were swallowed by churning mud, and the city below was completely lost in a thick, gray fog. I turned around and walked back into my warm, secure bunker. The climate control system kept the interior at a perfect, cozy seventy five degrees. I pulled out a box of self heating hotpot from the supply stacks and sliced up a massive slab of premium steak. The spicy red broth bubbled and popped, filling the room with an incredibly mouthwatering aroma. Buster laid beside me, gnawing on a massive three pound beef bone, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade. I leaned back comfortably into the plush sofa and opened the Sinclair family group chat on my phone. The chat was already exploding in pure panic.

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1 In the fourth year of my long-distance relationship with Nolan Price, he suddenly became clingy. Before going to the lab, he would report his schedule to me in advance. If he came across a good milk tea, he would share it with me. Even when he went out for a meal with friends, he would take photos and send them to me. But after listening, my roommate and self-proclaimed relationship strategist said with absolute certainty: “Your boyfriend is cheating.” “Telling you what he’s busy with in advance is his way of hinting that you shouldn’t call.” “When he goes out to eat and only photographs the food, not the people, it’s absolutely because someone special is sitting beside him.” “And wait, didn’t you tell me before that your boyfriend never drinks milk tea?” I refused to believe it. During the long weekend, I dragged my suitcase across half the country to Nolan’s university. And there, I saw a girl take a sip of milk tea, shove it into Nolan’s hand, and complain: “Too sweet. Gross.” The next second, a message from Nolan popped up on my phone. [Tried a new milk tea flavor today. It’s sweet. You’d probably like it.] [When you come visit, I’ll buy it for you.] … “Nolan Price, you promised today was all mine. And you’re secretly playing with your phone again?” The girl snatched his phone and spoke fiercely. “I’m confiscating it.” Nolan smiled, pressed his palms together, and begged. “Please, Your Highness. Let me send one last message, then I’ll go eat with you. Give it back, okay?” “Fine. Two minutes.” [Tara, my adviser is keeping me in the lab again this afternoon, so I can’t video call. Don’t miss me too much.] Seeing that ordinary check-in message again only made my heart twist. Before coming here, I had bet a whole month of living expenses with my roommate. I was certain Nolan would never cheat. Reality slapped me immediately. I followed behind Nolan. I watched as the girl excitedly pulled him into a fish hotpot restaurant. She picked up a slice of fish coated in red chili oil and held it to Nolan’s lips with a mischievous smile. Nolan looked at her with indulgence and helplessly opened his mouth. But he was clearly a clean freak. He never shared chopsticks with me. Once, I accidentally used his chopsticks by mistake. He threw them straight into the trash without hesitation. Nolan was hit hard by the spice. He immediately picked up the drink beside him and took a sip. But when we went out for hotpot together, if even a little chili oil touched the clear broth, he wouldn’t touch it anymore. Every time that happened, I felt terribly guilty. I would blame myself for being greedy and ruining the date. So it turned out taboos could be broken. I just wasn’t the exception. I followed them at a distance. Then an older woman suddenly stopped me with a warm smile. “Miss, buy a lover’s lock.” “Hang it on Lovers’ Bridge with your boyfriend, and you’ll stay together forever. Happy and blessed.” I turned my head. The girl was holding a lover’s lock, laughing and chatting with Nolan as they queued to walk onto the bridge. I laughed at myself and politely declined the woman. “Thank you, but no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” I suddenly remembered when Nolan and I climbed a mountain together two years ago. Under the old matchmaking tree at the summit, people crowded around to buy red ribbons, write down their names with their lovers’, and pray for a lasting bond. Nolan said superstition was irrational. He also thought it was a waste of time, so he pulled me straight down the mountain. Later, I secretly climbed back up alone and hung one. Maybe because I had been in such a hurry and wasn’t sincere enough, the matchmaker god refused to bless us forever. When I walked up behind Nolan, he and the girl had just finished hanging the lock. The girl clapped her hands, planted them on her hips, and admired the lock with satisfaction. “Done. Now we’re locked together. We’ll never be apart.” I gave a soft laugh and asked them: “Lover’s locks are supposed to be hung by lovers. Are you?” “Tara?” Nolan suddenly looked up at me, his expression both surprised and guilty. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I could’ve picked you up at the station.” He stood and naturally reached for my suitcase. I held it tight. He couldn’t pull it away. My expression was mocking. “If I’d told you in advance, how would I have caught this sweet little scene?” He grew slightly annoyed and scolded me in a low voice. “Tara, don’t talk nonsense.” “She and I are just ordinary friends.” I shook off his hand, my expression calm. “Nolan, you still haven’t answered my question.” I was speaking to Nolan. But my eyes were fixed straight on the girl. She smiled and took the initiative to greet me. “Hi, Tara. I’m Ruby Sullivan, Nolan’s junior.” “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you’d be upset.” “I just thought it was fun, so I pestered Nolan into hanging this lock with me and you.” “If you don’t like it, I’ll ask the staff to take it down right now.” Nolan frowned. “Don’t bother. The staff remove them after a while anyway.” Only then did I remember that Nolan had mentioned the name before. Back then, he told me Ruby was his adviser’s youngest daughter. He had complained about her to me. He said she often hid their lab results and made them play hide-and-seek. Sometimes she even clumsily broke glass instruments in the lab. He had also teased her for having a sweet tooth. He said she ate so many sugary things she got cavities, then cried outside the clinic because the dentist wore a white coat. Eventually, he even started feeling sorry for her. He said Ruby was often lonely by herself, and his adviser had asked him to spend more time with her. Naturally, I had assumed Ruby was a lively little girl who had no peers to play with. I had even bought a popular doll online as a gift for her. I planned to ask her not to mess with Nolan, or maybe put in a good word for him in front of her father. But it turned out she was about my age. Nolan forcefully took the suitcase from my hand. With his other hand, he clasped mine, interlocking our fingers. “Sorry, Ruby.” “My girlfriend came all this way to see me. I can’t hang out with you today.” Ruby gave a soft “ah.” “But there’s still the lab group dinner tonight. If you’re not going, I still want to go.” “Don’t forget, you promised my dad you’d get me home safely.” Nolan hesitated for a moment, then immediately made the decision for me. “Tara, come with me then.” “You came all this way at night. You probably haven’t eaten.” “After dinner and after I send Ruby home, I’ll go with you to the hotel.” He didn’t give me room to refuse. He simply took my hand and led me into the car. “Well, well, Nolan Price. You ran around outside with your junior all day and only showed up now.” “You made all of us wait this long. You have to drink as punishment.” The guy sitting beside him pressed down the hand pouring the wine. “Nolan is practically the adviser’s future son-in-law. If you get him drunk, be careful the adviser calls you out in tomorrow’s group meeting.” Nolan’s grip on my hand tightened. He immediately explained. “Don’t take it to heart. They’re joking on purpose.” I looked around. Everyone seemed used to it. Clearly, this was the kind of joke they made all the time. Ruby slapped the guy’s forehead casually. “Why are you barking? Can’t you see Nolan brought his girlfriend?” “If you two ruin their relationship, all of you are dead.” Only then did those people notice my existence. Their gazes landed on the three of us, and their expressions instantly turned subtle. The guy smiled awkwardly and slapped his own mouth twice. “My mouth has no filter. I just talk nonsense. Please forgive me this once.” “I’ll pay for today’s meal as an apology.” “You said you’re paying, so I won’t hold back.” Ruby sat down without ceremony and picked up the menu, adding another crate of beer. Nolan frowned and pressed her hand down. “Drinking again? Did you forget how you got alcohol poisoning last time and were sent to the hospital in the middle of the night?” “Why do you never learn?” “Cancel it.” The others chimed in. “Yeah. Last time, Nolan was scared half to death. He didn’t sleep all night and stayed with you in the hospital.” Ruby snorted. “As he should.” “If he hadn’t made me mad on Valentine’s Day, why would I have gone drinking?” I froze. On Valentine’s Day, I sprained my ankle. While getting the wound bandaged, I cried and video-called Nolan for comfort, only to see that his background was also a hospital. But he didn’t notice anything wrong with me. He just hurriedly said a few words, told me he was busy, and hung up. I thought he had fallen seriously ill and hidden it from me because he didn’t want me to worry. Ignoring my own injured foot, I tried to buy a ticket to go to him. My roommate stopped me, but I still couldn’t sleep the whole night. That night, I called him countless times. Not a single call went through. So that night, for another girl, he had tossed and turned sleeplessly just like I had. Ruby snorted and shoved the menu back at the server. “Besides, you’re not anyone to me. What right do you have to control me?” Nolan froze. Sitting beside her, he fell unusually silent. I stood awkwardly to the side, watching the scene. I only felt wretched and unnecessary. In the end, it was the guy who had joked earlier who noticed my embarrassment and waved to a server not far away. “Add a chair here.” And so, for the entire meal, I was like that chair that had been dragged over temporarily. Out of place. Ruby drank quite a lot. Nolan watched her the whole time and didn’t touch a single bite of food. I, on the other hand, was starving. So I picked up my chopsticks and ate without ceremony. A message from my relationship strategist, Erica, popped up on my phone. “Have you met him? What’s the situation?” I took a photo of the scene and sent it to her. Above that message happened to be the photo Nolan had sent me as his meal check-in. Back then, I had forwarded it to her specifically, asking her to analyze it. She had concluded that he was cheating. I smiled bitterly. “I owe you a month of living expenses.” Outraged, she sent me several sixty-second voice messages in a row. I didn’t have time to listen. Because Ruby suddenly covered her mouth and stood. “I feel like throwing up.” Nolan stood helplessly and supported her. “I told you not to overdo it. Now you feel awful, huh?” “Hold it in. I’ll help you to the restroom first.” Ruby shook off his hand. “You’re a man. If you follow me into the women’s restroom, aren’t you afraid people will call you a creep?” “Let Tara come with me.” Nolan was convinced. He lowered his eyes to me. “It really isn’t convenient for me.” “Tara, can you go with Ruby?” I stood. I wanted to see what Ruby was planning. Sure enough, the moment we entered the restroom, the person who had supposedly been too dizzy to stand became sober. Ruby washed her hands leisurely and looked at me through the mirror. “Nolan never told anyone he had a girlfriend.” My heart sank. “I know you’ve already seen it. I like him.” She paused, then added: “And he likes me too.” She suddenly took a phone from her pocket and entered the password in front of me. The familiar phone case made my heart tremble. It was the birthday gift I had given Nolan last winter. Mine was the matching pair. Ruby clearly noticed that I recognized it. Proudly, she waved the phone at me. The smiling girl on the screen slowly merged with the person before me. I felt dizzy and had to support myself against the wall. “Otherwise, why would he use my photo as his lock screen and my birthday as the password?” “Oh, and you probably didn’t know.” “Sometimes, I’m the one who replies to your messages for him. No need to thank me.” “I just thought you were so pitiful, waiting by your phone every day like a dog for him to reply.” Her words were like a blade, completely cutting through the last thread of hope in my heart. So in places I didn’t know, our photo had been replaced by Ruby’s. The anniversary password I once set for him had become Ruby’s birthday. Even the love that once belonged to me alone had been divided and given to Ruby. “Tara, is Ruby still feeling sick?” “Help her out. I’ll give her some hangover medicine first.” So Nolan could be this thoughtful too. “Do you believe that if I go out now and tell him you left, he’ll only blame you for leaving me here alone?” I fell silent. Suddenly, I was terrified to know the answer. But Ruby walked out. “Why are you alone? Where’s Tara?” Ruby swayed to his side and buried her head in Nolan’s arms. “She left me here alone and went ahead. A drunk guy walked by just now.” “I was scared to death. Thank God you came.” Nolan frowned. “She left? How could she leave a drunk girl here by herself?” “I’ll help you back to rest first.” But Nolan. How could you bear to leave me alone in a city I didn’t know? I laughed at myself and called my roommate. “Erica, can you help me fill out the application form for the government-sponsored study abroad program?” “I probably can’t get back to school until tomorrow afternoon, and I won’t make the deadline.” The other end was silent for a moment. She cursed Nolan a few times, then spoke loyally. “Easy. I haven’t submitted mine either.” After hanging up, I went to the front desk to get my suitcase and planned to take a cab to the hotel. But when the female driver heard the hotel address I gave, she kept glancing at me through the rearview mirror. She hesitated several times before finally speaking. “Miss, are you here alone to visit friends?” I wasn’t used to strangers being so warm, so I casually said yes and didn’t respond further. “Then why book that hotel? If you can, switch to another one.” Seeing my confused expression, she explained. “That hotel was recently exposed for hidden cameras. They were selling guests’ private photos on overseas websites.” “It caused a huge scandal. Almost everyone local knows. Didn’t your friend remind you?” My whole body turned cold. I immediately opened my phone to check if there were any flights back to school. Luckily, I managed to find one last-minute red-eye ticket. “Thank you for reminding me. I’m not going to the hotel. Please take me straight to the airport.” While checking in, I finally received a call from Nolan. “Why did you leave Ruby alone in the restroom just because you were mad at me? Do you know how dangerous that place is?” “Luckily, nothing happened.” Nolan did not care which hotel I had booked or whether I might have been filmed. He did not worry whether I, alone on unfamiliar streets, would get lost or harassed. Only accusation came at me. Maybe he finally realized I hadn’t spoken. He finally remembered to ask: “Where are you now? I’ll come get you.” “Nolan, don’t come.” “We’re breaking up.”

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1 When Mom nearly died giving birth to my little sister, I struck a deal with Death himself. I staked my soul to keep them both alive, but if by my eighteenth birthday Mom no longer loved me best, my soul would vanish. At the start, I was certain. “That’s far too easy,” I told the shadow. “Mom always calls me her favorite.” But she was lying. My sister was frail, a fragile porcelain doll doted on by everyone from her first breath. Just like that, I ceased to be the favored child. On my twelfth birthday, I wished aloud to be Mom’s favorite again. My sister’s weak heart panicked at the words. Furious, Mom shipped me off to a brutal reform academy for six years. When I returned as Cadet 018, my sister greeted me in a frilly dress, smiling like a perfect doll. “There’s no room for you here now. Are you mad?” she asked. “You may be healthy, but you’ll never have Mom’s love. Are you mad? They almost brought you back, but I cried and played sick until they were too afraid. Are you mad?” I simply shook my head. She was the sister I’d wagered my soul to save. How could I be angry? It was just that this wager, made in the name of love, was one I was about to lose. The moment the clock struck midnight on my eighteenth birthday, I saw Uncle Death again. Looking at my frail body and the map of scars covering my skin, the Grim Reaper froze. He let out a long, heavy sigh. “You are a good kid, but a deal is a deal.” Perhaps my miserable state moved him, because he looked at me with a trace of pity. “I can bend the rules a little for you, though.” “On this day of your adulthood, if your mother says she loves you most, whether she means it or not, I will consider it a win.” “If she cannot even manage that, I have to take your soul. You will vanish forever.” I nodded blankly. But my mother could not even bring herself to say she loved me, let alone say she loved me most. Six years in that hellhole of a school, and I never received a single phone call. Not once did she come to see me. I had learned my lesson. I no longer dared to hope for her affection. I was shoved into the dusty utility room. My old toy piano and stuffed animals were piled up there, buried under layers of grime. Just like me, discarded junk. This was my first night back, the first day of my adulthood, and likely my last day on Earth. Mom always hated how I begged for her attention. She had no idea that without her love, I would literally die. I woke up to the sound of my sister laughing. The breakfast table held four beautifully prepared plates. Mom still loved making gourmet meals. The sweet aroma filled the room, but the disposable plate and plastic fork set in front of me felt like a slap in the face. My presence made the air thick with tension. Dad tried to break the ice with a forced smile. “Sit down, Helen. It is your eighteenth today. Come try the strawberry cake your mom spent all morning baking.” “You have gotten thin. I know that boarding school was military style and tough on you, but you have always been a strong kid. A little hardship builds character.” “Your sister is fragile, so we had to send you to a school that could handle your supervision. Congratulations on graduating!” I kept my head down, too terrified to speak. I shoved the cake into my mouth mechanically. At the school, speaking during meals meant being strapped to a metal cot and shocked. Taking longer than ten minutes to eat earned you a ten mile march under the blistering sun. Seeing me gulp down my food like a wild animal, Mom’s face hardened. “Helen! Who are you putting on this act for?” she snapped. “We paid a fortune for your education, and you are acting like a victim?” Hearing my full name, my body reacted on instinct. I stood up straight, snapping to attention. “Cadet 018, reporting for duty!” The dining room fell into a dead silence. My sudden movement was so violent that it startled Grace, who was slicing her cake. She gasped, clutching her chest. “Helen, what are you doing?” Dad rushed to the cabinet for her pills. Mom pulled Grace into her arms, whispering soothing words. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Does your heart hurt? Daddy is getting your medicine.” Then she glared at me, her eyes flashing with rage. “Are you insane, Helen? If you try to hurt your sister again, I will send you right back to that school!” “Have you learned nothing? You ruin the family’s peace the very second you step through the door. How did I end up with a daughter like you?” The warm breakfast was ruined. I stood frozen in place. I wanted to explain that I did not mean to scare her, but my throat tightened. I could not make a sound. Mom’s shouting stopped. My breathing turned shallow and frantic as red hives erupted across my skin. “Helen, what is wrong with you…” “Strawberries! She is highly allergic to strawberries!” Dad shouted. “Call an ambulance!” Oh. I was allergic to strawberries. It had been so long since I had seen fresh fruit that I had completely forgotten. At school, we ate spoiled scraps. If we behaved, we got a plain piece of bread. Mostly, we just starved. I remembered when Mom used to love me. Back then, when she discovered my allergy, she went out of her way to buy other expensive fruits for me. Love used to mean worrying about whether I had enough to eat. She used to spend hours researching recipes just to get me to take one more bite. Why did her love have to change so fast? When I opened my eyes, Mom was frowning down at me. The IV drip was empty, and the hives had mostly faded. She looked relieved, but her words were still laced with blame. “Were you trying to spite me, Helen? If you knew you were allergic, why did you eat the whole thing? When you were little, you would not even touch food you did not like.” I remained silent. Mom did not know that pickiness was punished by having teeth pulled. She sighed, looking a bit awkward as she handed me a gift box. I held it like a sacred relic, my voice cracking. “Mom, you haven’t given me a birthday present in so long.” Inside was a sparkling princess dress. “Take it. You always stared at Grace whenever she wore her dresses.” I could not wait to put it on. But against my pale, sun damaged skin and dry, brittle hair, the extravagant gown looked ridiculous. Mom winced slightly. “Can’t you at least wash your hair and take a proper shower, Helen? A young woman shouldn’t look so disheveled.” Then she asked if I had a birthday wish. After six years of silence, this felt like the first drop of warmth. I remembered my wager with Uncle Death. I wanted to live. I did not want my soul to shatter into dust. “Mom, can you do one thing for me?” I whispered. “Just say, Mom loves Helen most.” Please, Mom. Save me. Just this once. Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass echoed from the hallway. Grace was leaning against the wall, gasping for breath, clutching her chest in agony. On the floor lay a shattered snow globe. Scattered around her feet were drawings that said, Happy Birthday, Sis. Mom’s eyes turned red with panic. Before I could process what was happening, she slapped me across the face. The blow was heavy, and blood began to drip from my nose. But it did not really hurt. The guards at the school hit much harder. Mom held Grace, crying hysterically as she screamed at me. “You know your sister cannot handle stress, Helen! Will you literally die if you stop trying to steal her spotlight?” “Why do you have to be so selfish? Is your head filled with nothing but jealousy?” The scene mirrored my twelfth birthday exactly. Back then, a simple wish had branded me a monster. I wiped the blood from my face. “Yes,” I whispered. “Without your love, I will literally die.” Mom froze, but then she completely lost her mind. She spewed venom, wishing I had never been born, saying she wanted to rip my healthy heart out to give it to Grace. She asked why the sickness had not taken a parasite like me instead. Her eyes were cold, filled with nothing but disgust. “Do you want to know when I started regretting giving birth to you, Helen? It was the day I was wheeled out of the operating room, bleeding out. Grace and I were hanging on by a thread.” “You ran up to my bedside with a grin on your face. Your first words were not to ask if we were okay. You asked me if you were still my favorite child.” I was used to being yelled at, but my chest still throbbed with an unbearable ache. So she had hated me since the very beginning. On the day Grace was born, Mom was hemorrhaging, and both of them were dying. I had seen the dark shadows coming to take their souls. I cried and begged until Uncle Death took pity on me. He agreed to spare them if I staked my own soul. I was smiling that day because Uncle Death had not lied to me. They were alive. And I asked that question because of the wager. Mom, without your love, I really will die. Even if my life was the price for yours, it was worth it. Mom sobbed, her face twisted in grief. “The doctors said Grace would not live long. You have a perfectly healthy body. Why could you not just let her have this?” “You have a whole lifetime ahead of you, but your sister only has us. Why do you have to fight her for everything? Does it really matter who I love most?” I stood there, hollowed out. Did it matter? Maybe my soul turning to dust did not matter either. Due to the shock, Grace was resting in a hospital bed. I stood in the corner of the room in my ill fitting princess dress, looking like an unwelcome clown. Dad was carefully peeling strawberries for Grace, while Mom read her a fairy tale. Suddenly, the fire alarm blared. Panic erupted in the hallway. Shouts of fire echoed through the building. My parents panicked. Grace shivered in terror. Dad scooped her up, shielding her in his arms. Mom grabbed Grace’s favorite stuffed bunny from the bed. They ran toward the emergency exit, neither of them casting a single glance at me. “Don’t cry, sweetie. Mommy and Daddy will protect you and Mr. Bunny.” Dad protected Grace. Mom protected a toy. And I, just like those past six years, was left behind in the smoke. “Mom! Wait for me!” I cried, running after them. Don’t leave me alone. I am scared too. I was swept up in the stampeding crowd, losing sight of them instantly. I was shoved against the handrails, bruising my arms and legs. It hurt. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the agony in my chest. The fire turned out to be minor, and the panic subsided quickly. They found me standing in the crowd, looking like a total wreck. My hair was wild, my skin was bruised, and the hem of my princess dress had been trampled into a dirty rag. Grace was spotless. Even her stuffed bunny was perfectly clean. Mom pulled me aside, her expression filled with annoyance. “You are an adult now, Helen. Can’t you even run away from a fire by yourself?” She looked down at my ruined dress, then at my bruised skin, and finally, at the older scars crisscrossing my arms. They were years old, left by the metal rods used at the school. She froze, her hand hovering over my skin. “Helen… what are these?” “Did that school abuse you? Why did you never say anything?” Her voice rose. “We paid so much money for that academy! How could they lay a hand on you? Why are you always so stubborn? Six years, and you never called home once to complain?” I quickly pulled my sleeves down to hide the marks. That school was a living hell, and the instructors were monsters. How could I have ever made a phone call? I was the only child who never had a visitor. When the guards were angry, they used me as a punching bag. The other kids joined in for fun. Every single day, I had waited. I waited for Mom to call. Not to complain, just to hear her voice. But the phone never rang. My eighteenth birthday was almost over. Would I ever hear her say she loved me? Uncle Death said those whose souls were taken would never get a chance to reincarnate. They simply ceased to exist. I did not want to fade away. “Mom,” I whispered, “are we still having my birthday dinner?” Mom let out a cold, bitter laugh. “Your sister almost had a heart attack and we just survived a fire, and you are still thinking about a birthday party?” Pushing down the hollow ache in my chest, I dropped to my knees in front of her, tears streaming down my face. “Mom, I don’t need a cake. We can cancel the party. Just grant me one wish.” I pressed my forehead against the cold floor, begging. “Please, just say you love me most. Just those words. I will do anything you want.” I was begging for my life. But even if I bled from bowing, she would not answer. My tears only irritated her. “Are you testing me, Helen?” she said, her voice dripping with disgust. “I won’t play your games. It is my own failure as a mother that turned you into such a selfish child. I cannot force myself to tell such a lie.” I let out a broken laugh, my face soaked with tears. Fine. I kept bowing, my forehead hitting the floor over and over. Ninety-nine times. It was my way of paying her back for giving me life before I died. “Mom, if you don’t say it, I am going to die.” “Then go ahead and die,” she snapped, turning on her heel and walking away. I heard Grace was crying for her, frightened by the fire alarm. Mom could not bear to let her precious baby shed a single tear. So be it. I lost the wager, and I accepted my fate. The sky grew dark, and the clock ticked closer to midnight. There was no party, no cake, no dinner. Only a trampled princess dress, a perfect metaphor for my ruined youth. The house was empty. Mom was not coming back. I huddled in the dusty utility room, waiting for my soul to be claimed. Uncle Death, even with your help, I could not do it. My mom will never say she loves me most.

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A pair of lace panties, sealed inside an envelope, was pinned to the university’s anonymous confession page. The poster was the star varsity basketball player, the undisputed campus heartthrob. The caption read: 【No, thanks. Not interested.】 The comment section exploded in seconds. 【Which desperate slut thought sending panties was a good way to hook up? I can smell the desperation from here.】 【She thought she could slide into the ice king’s DMs and got absolutely wrecked.】 I was scrolling through the drama, thoroughly entertained, until one comment made my heart stop. 【Faye Mercer from the sophomore Environmental Science department, are you really this pathetic? Do you have to throw yourself at literally every guy on campus?】 1 Before I could even process it, the replies began piling up. 【No way, I got a pair too. Haha.】 【Standard procedure. That girl is basically the campus bicycle. A hookup for a pair of panties.】 【Bold move going after the varsity captain though. Too bad she’s so dirty he wouldn’t even look at her.】 Within thirty seconds, the comment section was overflowing with filth. I zoomed in on the picture. The lace panties looked identical to the pair I had lost a few days ago. I scrolled through the thread with a tight frown, my stomach turning. Quickly, I took screenshots of every single photo and comment. The sheer, toxic misogyny in the comments made me want to throw up. Just then, the dorm door swung open, and my two roommates walked in. Rebecca, whose bunk was next to mine, rushed over. “Faye, did you see the confession page? You…” She looked at me with deep suspicion. “It isn’t really you, is it?” Paige glanced at me, then pulled Rebecca away with a soft cough. “Rebecca, go wash your hands and change first. You don’t know what kind of nasty germs you get from hanging around loose girls.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She pinched her nose and took a step back. Rebecca’s face turned pale. They both looked at me as if I were carrying some flesh-eating virus. “Say that again,” I said, slamming my hand onto the desk as I stood up. “Who the hell are you calling loose?!” Paige pushed her glasses up her nose, her expression twisting into a sneer. “Who else? You’re the only Faye Mercer in the sophomore Environmental Science department. Sleeping around this much makes you a whore, doesn’t it?” Smack. I slapped her glasses right off her face. Before Paige could even register the shock, I used my height advantage to grab her by her ponytail. I dragged her toward the bathroom. Lock the door. Turn on the faucet. “Glug… you… let go…!” I slammed her face-first into the sink. The basin was filled with dirty, soapy water from this morning that hadn’t been drained yet. Paige thrashed wildly, her limbs flailing like a stranded octopus. Only when she was on the verge of suffocating did I finally let go. She collapsed onto the wet tile floor, completely drenched, shivering with rage and terror. “You psycho! I’m going to the department head! I’m telling the dean!” I let out a cold chuckle. I leaned down, whispering right in her ear, “Don’t you know the law protects the mentally unstable? Even if I killed you, I wouldn’t go to prison. The school would probably just try to keep me quiet.” Paige’s pupils shrunk to tiny pinpricks. With a terrified shriek, she shoved me away, scrambled to her feet, and bolted out the door. Rebecca, having witnessed the whole thing, looked just as pale as Paige. She stood frozen, her face shifting between green and white. A heavy, suffocating silence fell over the dorm. Then, the door clicked open again, and Sienna walked in. She set her bag down and immediately handed me a warm cup of milk tea. “Drink up. It’ll help with the cramps.” The anger boiling inside me instantly softened. Sienna actually remembered my period. She gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I saw the confession page. Don’t let it get to you. Has the advisor called you in yet?” I shook my head. “No. But I’m going to the police.” Her posture stiffened for a fraction of a second. “The police? Isn’t that a bit too extreme?” I frowned, finding her reaction odd. “Using the law to protect myself is basic common sense, isn’t it?” Sienna tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and forced a smile. “Faye, you don’t get it. In cases like this, the girl always ends up losing. The bigger the scene you make, the worse your reputation gets.” She paused. “Besides, aren’t you trying to get into the direct-admit grad program?” Sienna’s words echoed in my mind all night, keeping me tossing and turning. As I lay awake, a faint rustling sound crept up from the desk beneath my bunk. 2 Our dorm was structured with loft beds above and personal desks and closets below. A sliver of light from the hallway crept through the gap under the door, casting a dim glow directly on Sienna’s face. I held my breath. After what felt like an eternity, the rustling stopped. Aside from the soft grinding of teeth from my other two roommates, the room returned to absolute silence. I never locked my closet door. The next morning, nothing valuable was missing, but another pair of my lace underwear was gone. Sienna and I were both from Upstate New York, sharing similar habits. Because of that, she was the closest friend I had in this dorm. I checked the campus confession page again and noticed the post had been taken down. As I stared at my phone in a daze, it suddenly vibrated. “Faye Mercer. Get to my office immediately.” The academic advisor’s harsh voice barked through the speaker. My heart sank. I walked toward the administration building. At the end of the long hallway, I saw Sienna leaning close to a tall, lean guy, whispering to him. “I’m really sorry, Bob,” she said, twirling a strand of hair around her finger, her face a mask of sweet apology. “Faye is my roommate, but I honestly had no idea she was capable of doing something so disgusting.” The guy was wearing a varsity basketball jersey and a headband. His handsome face was like a block of ice. It was Bob Shaw, the star athlete from the sports department. “I’d stay away from her if I were you,” Bob replied coldly. “You don’t want people dragging your name into the mud with hers.” “And what exactly am I supposed to have done?” My sudden voice made Sienna gasp. Her face froze. “Faye. You’re here.” Bob stared at me for a few seconds before letting out a scoff. “So you’re the famous campus bicycle,” he said, stepping closer to inspect me with blatant disgust. “You’re not even that hot. Did you think because our campus is so big, your clients wouldn’t talk to each other?” “First, I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about. Second, don’t try to pin your garbage rumors on me. And third, your breath stinks.” Before he could reply, I brought my heel down hard onto his foot. His face twisted in agony. I walked right past him, stopping directly in front of Sienna. Smack. I slapped her across the face. Sienna clutched her cheek, tears welling up instantly. “Faye, just because you got caught doesn’t mean you get to take your anger out on me!” Hearing the commotion, our advisor, Mr. Gable, slammed his office door open and marched out. His face was dark with fury, spit flying as he shouted, “Faye Mercer! You’ve brought enough shame to this department, and now you’re assaulting your classmates?!” Sienna shrunk behind Mr. Gable, whimpering, “Mr. Gable…” Tears streamed down her face in perfect, pathetic drops. But I caught the fleeting gleam of triumph in her eyes. I took a deep breath. “Mr. Gable, what shameful thing have I done? If you are referring to the confession page, let’s put aside whether that post is even about me. Spreading my name and violating my privacy is a crime. It is sexual harassment and defamation. If I call the police, who do you think is going to be more embarrassed?” “Cut the act,” Bob sneered, pulling up a photo on his phone and shoving it in my face. “Are you going to tell me this isn’t you?” My chest tightened. It was an intimate, bedroom photo. 3 The girl in the photo had her eyes closed, the lower half of her face obscured by a thick blanket. But the visible parts, her delicate eyes and eyebrows, looked almost identical to mine. Bob sneered, “This is just one of the many photos of you floating around. Are you still going to deny it?” Mr. Gable’s eyes flashed with a smug satisfaction. “Faye, your direct-admit grad recommendation is revoked. You will also write a twenty-thousand-word apology letter to the department and publicly apologize to Sienna at the next assembly.” “Where is the proof?” I demanded, fighting to keep my voice steady despite the anger vibrating through my veins. “With AI deepfakes and Photoshop, anyone can make a fake image. Besides, there aren’t any other photos, are there?” A flicker of surprise crossed Bob’s eyes. I pressed on, “The photo only shows half a face, and the girl is wearing heavy makeup. How can you be one hundred percent sure it’s me?” “Stubborn girl!” Mr. Gable raised his voice, booming down the hall. “If it’s not you, who else could it be?!” Doors began to pop open along the corridor. Staff members and students who had come to turn in paperwork poked their heads out to watch the drama unfold. I narrowed my eyes. They were trying to systematically destroy my reputation. Sienna offered a look of soft pity. “Faye, if you just admit it, the school won’t expel you. Don’t make things harder on yourself by arguing with Mr. Gable.” “Isn’t the girl in the photo actually you?” I retorted, my voice cutting through her sweet act. “What exactly do you want me to admit?” “What?!” Every eye in the hallway instantly whipped toward Sienna. “Nonsense!” Mr. Gable sputtered, his face turning red. “Faye, you mess up and your first instinct is to drag an innocent classmate down with you?!” I ignored him, keeping my eyes locked on Sienna. “If it isn’t you, then why did you sneak into my closet in the middle of the night to steal my underwear?” A collective gasp echoed through the corridor. Sienna’s expression faltered. “Don’t lie! Why would I ever steal your underwear?” When people lie, their eyes tend to dart around rapidly. Sienna had another tell. She always touched her earlobe when she was lying. “My phone was recording. Do you want me to play the video?” Mr. Gable’s expression darkened. He shot Sienna a quick, warning look before barking, “Get inside my office right now! Discussing such vulgar things in the hallway is disgraceful!” Watching the silent exchange between Mr. Gable and Sienna, the pieces of the puzzle clicked together. Bob stood in silence, watching us. I shook my head. “We discuss it right here. Explain to everyone why you stole my underwear, pretended to be the campus hookup, and then threw all the dirt onto me!” Mr. Gable was practically shaking with rage. “Sienna is an honor student! She has published multiple papers, won academic scholarships every year, and represented our department in dance and piano competitions! How dare you slander her!” “Academic success doesn’t make someone a saint, Mr. Gable,” I said, emphasizing every syllable. “A degree doesn’t define a person’s character.” “You!” Mr. Gable began to cough violently from sheer anger. Bob’s gaze shifted to me, his cold eyes now filled with curiosity. By now, the crowd in the hallway had grown even larger. “Wait, what’s going on? I thought Faye was the campus bicycle.” “Faye is saying Sienna stole her underwear to frame her.” “Honestly, that makes sense. They’re both competing for the direct-admit spot.” “So Faye was framed?” As the whispers grew, the crowd parted, and a guy with a buzz cut pushed his way through. “Mr. Gable, I can prove Faye Mercer is the girl in the photo!” A wave of murmurs rippled through the crowd as the stranger pointed a finger directly at me. “My name is Barrett. Faye and I hooked up, and she scammed me out of hundreds of dollars. She’s nothing but a gold-digging fraud!” 4 I pulled out my phone, which was already recording, and stared him down. “I’m recording this. Are you willing to take legal responsibility for the lies you just told?” Barrett choked on his words, his confident posture instantly evaporating. Before he could slip away, another guy stepped out of the crowd. “Wait, isn’t that Brody?” someone whispered. Brody glared at me with pure venom. “Don’t even try to deny it, Faye. It was you.” He yanked down his collar, revealing a neck and chest covered in angry red rashes. “Look at this! Faye gave me this disease. She ruined my life!” The students and staff surrounding me took a massive step back. Disgust, horror, and judgment washed over me from every direction. “That is so disgusting. She looks so innocent, but she’s actually carrying stuff like that.” “What kind of disease is that? Is it HIV?” “Oh god, I sat next to her in the library last week. Can you catch it from a chair?” Listening to the vile whispers, I took a deep breath. I couldn’t let anger cloud my judgment now. “You don’t care about the truth, and you’re happy to throw whatever mud you can find. Fine. I’m calling the police.” The moment I dialed the emergency number, Mr. Gable snatched the phone from my hand. “Call the police? After all of this, you still refuse to admit your mistakes? Do you want to drag this entire department’s reputation through the mud?!” “Give me back my phone!” I stepped forward, but Sienna blocked me. She looked at me with a sickening display of pity. “Faye, I feel partly responsible for this. If only I had noticed sooner that you suffer from skin hunger.” The hallway erupted. “What? Faye has skin hunger?!” “No wonder she’s so desperate for guys. That’s just a fancy word for being an addict.” Laughter broke out. “Faye Mercer, get in here right now! You’ve humiliated this department enough!” Mr. Gable roared, holding his office door open. I saw the smug satisfaction in Sienna’s eyes and the utter disgust on the faces of the crowd. The whispered insults crashed over me like a tidal wave, trying to drown me. “Wait,” I said, my voice cutting through the noise. “I have a few questions.” I walked up to Barrett. “You claim you hooked up with me. Tell everyone, how many moles do I have on my chest?” He blinked, caught off guard. “Uh… one.” I turned to Brody. “What about you?” “I…” Brody’s face flushed red. “I didn’t look closely.” He glared at me. “So what if I didn’t see? That doesn’t change the fact that we slept together! Besides, the motel room was dark. How was I supposed to count your moles?!” I let out a cold laugh. “Then you must remember what clothes I was wearing, what bag I had, and the exact date and location.” The two guys began to stammer, glancing at each other in panic. “How are we supposed to remember details from so long ago?!” “Yeah! Stop trying to dodge the blame! You need to pay for my medical bills!” “Is that so?” I sneered, pulling a few photos from my bag and tossing them right at Brody’s face. The photo fell face-up on the floor. In it, a shirtless Brody was pinned beneath another guy, their lips locked in a passionate kiss.

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The mountain road had collapsed. My son was trapped. I was the only rescue driver who could get a vehicle up there. My wife was on the phone, screaming herself hoarse — the only one who knew exactly where our son was: “West road! Our son is on the west road!” Without hesitation, I yanked the wheel — then a stream of floating comments flashed across my vision: [you have no idea you’re being played.] [The kid trapped on the west road is the son of Elise’s ex, Renato!] [If you actually take the west road, your son will die on the east road waiting for help that never comes!] [And after you save some other man’s kid, Elise will report you for deliberately taking the wrong route.] [You’ll think you just misheard her. You’ll jump off a building.] [Elise will marry Renato. The kid you saved won’t just survive — he’ll get into Stanford and pull in seven figures a year.] I stared at the words floating in front of me. Elise’s voice was breaking apart on the other end of the line, screaming “west road” over and over. I hesitated for a moment — then wrenched the wheel hard.

The truck climbed the east mountain road. The floating comments flickered wildly: [No way — Santiago changed course!] [What’s going on? Can he actually see our messages?] [Yes! Sori’s going to make it!] [Go, Santiago! Sori’s running out of time!] I gripped the wheel so hard my knuckles ached. But the voice in my earpiece was getting more and more frantic: “Santiago, are you on your way?” I hesitated. “Yeah.” “You’re sure it’s the west road? Sori’s vitals are almost gone — there’s no room for any mistakes here!” I faltered. Elise picked up on it immediately from the other end of the line: “Did you take the wrong road?” “I…” “Santiago, Sori doesn’t have much time!” “If you went the wrong way, turn around now! There’s still a chance! Any longer and Sori is really going to die!!” Elise never panicked. Not once. But right now, her voice was on the verge of tears. “Santiago… please. Save Sori. He’s all we have.” I wavered. Sori was a miracle we’d fought hard for. Elise had devoted herself to him in ways I couldn’t match. She’d insisted on breastfeeding, hired a nutritionist to plan every meal after he was weaned, and had already set up a trust fund for when he turned eighteen. Suddenly I felt ridiculous. How had I, in that one split second, chosen to trust a stream of mysterious floating comments over the woman I’d spent ten years of my life with? I took a deep breath and jerked the wheel back. [Are you insane?!] [If you do this, Sori is gone for good!] [Keep going straight — there’s still time to save him!] [Wait, did Elise say something to him?] [Don’t let her get in your head! She will do anything for Renato’s kid. Anything.] [Even throw her own son away!] [He’s done. The main character’s going to take the blame and jump off a building.] [You don’t even know Elise has been putting money away for Renato’s kid this whole time.] I slammed on the brakes. Elise had been putting money away for Renato’s kid? The comments kept pouring in: [He doesn’t know that the day Sori had a fever, Elise didn’t have an emergency. She was with Renato — a widower who needed a shoulder to cry on.] [It’s almost funny. Renato dumped her back then, she swore she was done with him. Then he showed up holding his kid and crying on his knees, and she just… melted.] [She breastfed that kid. Hired a nutritionist for him. Set up an eighteen-year trust fund for him.] [Poor guy has no idea. The leftovers Elise brought home for Sori were actually that other kid’s leftovers. He thought she’d prepared it specially for their son.]

How could this be happening? “Santiago, are you almost there?” Elise’s voice trembled slightly in my ear. If that trembling was for someone else’s child… then what were Sori and I to her? But what if these floating words were just hallucinations? After all, Elise and I had been through ten years together. The two voices tore at me from every direction. I shut my eyes, drew a long breath, and twisted the wheel.

Those ten minutes on the road were the longest of my life. If the comments were lying to me, I’d be failing both Sori and Elise. But I’d been hesitating so long that the car had already traveled several miles. There was no turning back. Unless Elise had actually lied to me — in which case I’d regret this for the rest of my life. But would she really deceive me? The car pulled up to the landslide. I spotted a small figure pinned inside a crushed vehicle. “Sori? Is that Sori?!” I sprinted over. The car had flipped upside down. The child was hanging inverted in his car seat. Blood covered his face — I couldn’t wipe it away fast enough. But the small red birthmark on his wrist told me everything. This was Sori. “D… Daddy…” A tiny voice, barely a whisper. Sori forced his bloodied eyes open and flashed a little gap-toothed smile: “Mommy wasn’t lying… “Mommy really did send Daddy to find me~” “Daddy’s here…” Elise had lied to me after all. I grabbed the rescue equipment from the truck, cut through the car frame, and pulled Sori free. I held him against my chest and started emergency pressure on his wounds. He lay in my arms — four years old, wounds cut down to the bone — and he didn’t cry. Didn’t make a sound. He just clenched his jaw and endured it. Through the pain, he even managed to ask: “Is Mommy okay? “When I got stuck in the car, a big rock crushed her leg too.” [Sori still believes in his mom, even now.] [Sweet kid. Elise did start out trying to get him help — but halfway there, she got a call from Renato…] [Poor little guy. He doesn’t know Elise has already decided to let him go.] I tightened my grip on the bandage. “You don’t need to worry about her.” Sori blinked his big eyes up at me. “So… Mommy’s okay?” “She’s fine.” I lifted him into my arms. “She’s doing just fine.” The moment we got in the truck, Elise’s voice came through my earpiece: “Santiago — did you get Sori?” That voice — so tense, so desperate. For a moment I couldn’t speak. Elise had been driving Sori through the mountain pass when the landslide hit. She’d crawled out of the wreck herself. How could she possibly not know which road Sori was on? Was it really just a mistake? Ten years of marriage made me want one last confirmation. “Elise.” My voice came out rough. “You’re sure it’s the west road, right?”

“I’m sure.” No hesitation on the other end. “I was on the west road with Sori when the accident happened. How could I possibly be wrong about where he is? “Why are you even asking?” Her voice sharpened instantly: “Don’t tell me you took the wrong road.” I gripped the wheel. “No.” A long exhale from Elise. “What about Sori? How is he?” “Got him out. Emergency bleeding’s been controlled. Taking him to the hospital now.” “Thank God…” The relief in her voice made it sound like all the strength had left her body. I heard people on her end rushing to steady her: “Ms. Elise, you’re injured yourself — you shouldn’t be monitoring the field operation like this.” “Santiago is the best driver and rescue specialist on the team, and he’s out there saving his own kid. You should have faith in him.” “Exactly. You’ve lost so much blood. Please, just rest.” Elise’s voice was faint: “I couldn’t relax until I knew Sori was safe.” “They’re not wrong about Santiago and Elise — everyone says they’re the real deal. I believe it now.” The voices on her end blurred together. I stopped being able to make out the words. The truck flew along the mountain road. My hands locked around the wheel. I bit down hard on my back teeth. My wife had risked her own safety to monitor every move I made — not for our son. For another man’s child. I pressed my earpiece. “Honey, I’m taking Sori to the hospital now. Is there anyone else on the other road?” A pause on her end. “No. There isn’t.” My chest went cold. I let out a short, quiet laugh. “Then I’m heading straight to the hospital.” “Good. Move fast. That kid can’t wait.” I hadn’t thought Elise would go this far for Renato’s child. I ended the call and drove Sori directly to the nearest hospital.

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The night before the wedding, my fiancé Alpha Eliot’s beloved little sister Lola told me she had a surprise prepared — one I would never forget. She lured me into the Frost Pack’s restricted canyon, locked the heavy iron gate from the outside, and activated the artificial rain system. It was a December blizzard. Ice water mixed with sleet slammed into my face. The canyon was surrounded on all sides by transparent observation decks. Young wolves from both packs held up their phones, watching me shiver and struggle like I was the night’s entertainment. Lola smiled — sweet and vicious at the same time. “Seren, aren’t you always playing the high-and-mighty act? Get on your knees and beg me. Let everyone watch you shake like a wet dog!” And my fiancé, Frost Pack’s Alpha Eliot, stood at the center of the observation deck, watching me through the curtain of rain. “Just make sure nobody dies.” “A wild girl who grew up running with Rogues needs to learn the hard way that Frost Pack doesn’t let just anyone through its doors.” Ten minutes later, I smashed through the iron gate and walked out of the storm, covered in blood. I dialed the Elder Council and spoke in a voice so calm it had no warmth left in it at all. “Notify all elders. Terminate the inter-pack marriage alliance. Cut all resource ties.” “Everyone who came here tonight to watch — I won’t let a single one of you off.” Eliot thought I was just some stray girl clinging to Frost Pack for a better life. What he didn’t know was that I was the Alpha Female of Ironclaw Pack — his most important ally.

The moment the ice water hit me, I could barely breathe. The iron gate had been locked from the outside. All four sides of the canyon were enclosed by reinforced glass observation decks, and the cold white glow of night-vision lights lit everything up, leaving me no place to hide. The decks were packed with young wolves from both packs. They held warm drinks in their hands and watched like this was a carefully arranged hunting show. Someone slammed their palm against the railing and let out a long, mocking howl. Someone else raised their phone and pointed the lens straight at my soaked back. “Frost Pack’s got a new game? Pretty entertaining.” “Gotta hand it to Alpha Eliot — night before the bonding ceremony and he’s got his fiancée standing in an ice storm.” “This is his test to see if she’s worthy of being Frost Pack’s Luna!” The taunts cut through the sound of the rain and burrowed into my ears one by one. My fingers locked around the iron bars of the gate. The gate wouldn’t open. An electronic lock hung on the outside, its screen glowing with Frost Pack’s white wolf crest. Lola stood at the front of the observation deck. She wore a clean white dress, makeup flawless, like a white rose that had never been touched by dirt. She stood under a white umbrella, smiling, and gave the remote in her hand a little wave in my direction. “Seren, don’t look at me like that.” “Everyone just wants to see how much you really love Alpha Eliot.” Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was just loud enough for the wolves nearby to hear. Another wave of laughter rolled through the crowd. I wiped the water from my face and heard my own voice shaking. “Lola, open the gate.” She tilted her head like I’d said something funny. “But the hunt just started.” “We made a bet on how long you’d last before you begged.” She stepped closer and looked at me through the glass. “Didn’t you always say you were Ironclaw Pack’s finest heir? Independent. Strong. Capable?” “Then prove it.” I watched her innocent face, and something inside me turned cold, inch by inch. Tonight was supposed to be the eve of my bonding ceremony with Eliot. Frost Pack and Ironclaw Pack had been neighbors for generations, but border conflicts had been escalating. The Elder Councils had decided to seal the alliance through a bonding. Eliot said this was the respect he owed me. He said I had stayed by his side through Frost Pack’s three hardest years. That I had walked with him from the fringes of the pack all the way to the Alpha seat. He said I deserved to carry the title of Luna. For a while, I thought that was the best ending I could hope for. For this alliance, I had turned down three border hunts and personally reviewed every territory agreement and every supply line arrangement. But now, the man who promised me respect was standing at the center of that observation deck. He hadn’t come down. He hadn’t told anyone to open the gate. The overhang above the deck kept the rain off him. Eliot stood in the warm light, watching with cold eyes as I soaked and shook in the canyon below. I called up to him through the glass. “Eliot!” “Tell her to open the door!” I thought he would at least frown. But he just slowly brushed a hand across his sleeve. “Seren, Lola just likes to have fun.” “You’re older than her. More mature. Don’t take it so seriously.” I stared at him, eyes burning red. “You know exactly why this terrifies me!” When I was ten, I followed my father on a border hunt and got trapped with him when an enemy pack cornered us inside a collapsed cave. A blizzard raged outside. Snowmelt rose past my knees. There was nothing around me but darkness and broken rock. My father, trying to get me out, was crushed by a collapsing wall. He pushed me toward the opening. He never made it out. After that, I was afraid of enclosed spaces. Afraid of the constant sound of running water. Afraid of any night I couldn’t escape from. All these years, I never told anyone. Only Eliot knew. Because once, when the Frost Pack was cornered underground by enemy wolves, I stayed in that cave with him for an entire night to help him protect his pack’s hunting maps. He held my hand and said: “Seren, I’ll protect you from now on. You never have to be afraid again.” Now he stood on the observation deck and let my fear become entertainment for every wolf in the canyon.

“Alpha Eliot already said it himself — I’m just having fun.” “Seren, don’t be such a killjoy.” She turned to face the wolves on the deck and raised her voice. “Everyone, the bet is officially open.” “If she cries and calls out for Alpha Eliot to save her within thirty minutes, I lose.” “If she holds out and doesn’t beg, I’ll transfer one hundred thousand dollars to each of you.” The crowd erupted. “Lola, you’re the best!” “Then we’re all betting she breaks.” “She’s got no father, no backing — does she really think putting on a nice dress makes her Frost Pack’s Luna?” “Is Alpha Eliot actually going to marry her? I always figured it was just a political deal.” My fingertips went numb. Rain ran into my eyes and the sting made it hard to keep them open. I pounded on the gate. “Eliot! I’m saying it one last time — tell someone to open this door!” Eliot finally looked up at me. His expression held no guilt. Only irritation at being called out in front of everyone. “Seren, do you really have to make this so ugly?” “Lola grew up spoiled. Why are you letting her get to you?” “Besides, aren’t you the one who’s always handling crises? You can’t manage something this small?” I stood there frozen for a moment, then felt the corner of my mouth pull into a smile. So in his eyes, my fear of being locked in the storm was nothing. Just something small. Three years of blocking border threats for him, negotiating every resource deal for him, rewriting pack development plans for him at four in the morning — all of it had somehow become the reason he felt entitled to humiliate me. When Lola saw me smile, her expression flickered. She hated this. She hated that even at my lowest, I wouldn’t bend. She raised the remote and pressed a button. A second later, the rain system at the top of the canyon surged. A colder, heavier torrent came crashing down. My knees buckled and I nearly fell. The observation deck erupted — not in concern, but excitement. “She’s going to break!” “Hurry, get it on video — this is going to spread to every pack by morning!” “Alpha Eliot’s fiancée is something else, I’ll give her that…” Lola moved close to the glass and dropped her voice so only I could hear. “Seren, drop the act.” “I know exactly what you’re afraid of.” “Alpha Eliot told me himself.” My stomach dropped. Her smile got sweeter. “You think he kept your wounds as secrets?” “Sorry, he tells me everything when he’s trying to get me to sleep.” “He said you got trapped somewhere when you were little, so you never sleep well when it rains.” “He said you seem tough, but deep down you’re still that scared little wolf who’s afraid of the dark and afraid of water.” Something in my ears started roaring. Those words were colder than the storm. Three years with Eliot. I had shielded him from enemy ambushes, negotiated the northern mineral rights for him, held a starving territory together in the dead of winter. The night his stomach bled, I sat with him in the medical tent until morning. When the Frost Pack elders tried to frame him for misappropriating pack resources, I was the one who found the accounting discrepancies and pulled him out of that hole. He knelt in front of me and said: “Seren, without you, I wouldn’t be here.” “Once I’ve secured the Alpha seat, I’m going to marry you.” I thought that was a promise. But it turned out I was just a useful tool. Lola tapped the glass. “Seren, don’t blame me.” “I just wanted you to understand your place.” She glanced up at Eliot and let her voice go soft. “Alpha Eliot, you’re not upset with me, are you?” Eliot put out his cigarette. “Don’t go too far.”

Lola immediately pouted like a child who’d been scolded. “What’s too far? You promised me tonight would be fun.” “And you said the bonding was just a temporary arrangement.” A temporary arrangement. Four words. They dragged back and forth across my chest like a dull blade. I looked up at Eliot. “Is that true?” He frowned. He clearly hadn’t expected Lola to say it out loud in front of everyone. But a moment later, he settled back into that composed, untouchable expression. “Since you heard it, there’s no point hiding it.” I stood soaked to the bone in freezing water, staring at him. “So tomorrow’s ceremony — that’s all fake too?” He said, evenly, “Seren, you should understand that an alliance between two packs can’t be built on feelings alone.” “Lola is connected to the northern white wolf bloodline. She’s the one who belongs at my side as Luna.” My nails pressed into my palms. “Then what am I?” For the first time, a flicker of impatience crossed Eliot’s eyes. “Do you have to make me say it like this?” “I haven’t treated you poorly these past three years.” “You wanted power — I gave you the Beta position.” “You wanted respect — who in Frost Pack dares to address you as anything other than Beta Seren?” “The Luna title isn’t something I can offer you. I won’t lie to you about that forever.” He said it so calmly. As though three years of everything I gave had been worth exactly one title. Lola leaned against him, smiling. “Seren, learn to be grateful.” “You have no family name, no backing. The fact that you get to be Alpha Eliot’s Beta is more than you ever deserved.” Voices nearby chimed in. “Exactly.” “If Alpha Eliot actually married her, what would that say about Frost Pack?” “Being capable doesn’t matter. A Luna is chosen by bloodline.” “Seren should wake up. At best, she’s the person who helped Eliot get to the top. That doesn’t make her Luna material.” I looked at the wolves who had bowed their heads to me at every hunting council meeting. When they respected me, they called me Beta Seren. Now that Eliot wasn’t protecting me, they had turned without hesitation. One wolf in a gray jacket grinned and held up his phone. “Beta Seren, want me to take a photo for you? Something to remember tonight by?” “After tomorrow, it’ll be Lola standing next to Alpha Eliot.” “The way you look right now — might as well enjoy your last moment in the spotlight.” I said nothing. Because the fear had already passed its worst point. When pain reaches its limit, something in you goes still and clear. I reached up and touched the wolf-mark stud in my right ear. It wasn’t an ordinary piece of jewelry. Three months ago, when I noticed irregularities in Frost Pack’s internal accounts, I had my personal guard put together an emergency device for me. Three consecutive presses would trigger an automatic location signal, sending an alert to the Elder Council, my guard unit, and my private hunting team. Eliot didn’t know. He had always assumed I handed him every card I held. But he forgot: someone who clawed their way out of ruins doesn’t truly put their life in anyone else’s hands. I lowered my head, pretending to choke on the rain, and brought my hand up to cover my ear. Once. Twice. Three times. A faint vibration from the stud. The signal was sent. Lola thought I was finally breaking. Her eyes lit up. “Alpha Eliot, is she about to cry?” “I knew she couldn’t hold out long.” She pulled out her phone and aimed it at me. “Come on, Seren. Look at the camera and say you were wrong.” “All you have to do is admit you’re not good enough for Alpha Eliot, and I’ll open the gate.” I looked up at her. “Lola. Are you sure you want to keep going?”

She blinked, then let out a short, contemptuous laugh. “We’re already this far in and you’re threatening me?” “Seren, you don’t actually think you’re still Ironclaw Pack’s feared heir, do you?” “Your position was given to you by Alpha Eliot.” “He gave it. He can take it back.” I straightened slowly. “Ask him, then. Ask him whether Frost Pack still has the power to take anything back from me.” A shadow passed through Eliot’s eyes. “Seren. What are you implying?” I looked at him through the rain. “I’m implying that you should pray nothing happens to me tonight.” “Because if it does, tomorrow Frost Pack will be hosting a reckoning, not a celebration.” Laughter rippled through the crowd again. They thought I was bluffing. Lola laughed so hard she bent forward. “A reckoning? You’re going to hold Frost Pack accountable?” “Seren, did the cold freeze your brain?” Eliot’s expression went cold. “Enough.” He looked at me, voice low. “Seren, don’t overestimate your importance.” “The hunting territories you control ultimately belong to both packs.” “The connections you’ve made — you made them through the platform the alliance built.” “Without Frost Pack, you’re nothing.” I held his gaze, and in that moment the last ember of whatever I’d felt for him burned out completely. “Fine.” “Then let’s find out tomorrow, Eliot.” “Let’s see which one of us ends up with nothing after we walk away.” Lola didn’t like the look in my eyes. She wanted me to cry. She wanted me to beg. She wanted to watch me lose every shred of dignity in front of the entire pack. But I didn’t give her any of that. So the smile on her face slowly died. “Seren. You’ve got more endurance than I thought.” She handed her umbrella to someone nearby and walked to the electronic lock herself. “Since you won’t admit you’re wrong, let’s make it harder.” She pressed another button. The blackout curtains around the canyon began to drop. Heavy black panels slid down one by one, covering the transparent glass walls. The light disappeared, and my breath lurched. Enclosed. Dark. Water. All three hit at once. My vision swam. Lola stood outside the last narrow gap as the curtain fell. “You said you were going to hold us accountable?” “Come on then.” “Get out first. Then we’ll talk.” The curtain dropped completely. The canyon fell into near darkness. Only the lights at the top flickered on and off like something was broken, white and cold. The water kept falling. Each drop felt like the snowmelt that used to leak through the ceiling of that old cave. I heard my father’s voice. “Seren. Crawl out.” “Don’t look back.” I bit down hard on my lower lip until I tasted blood. I can’t fall apart. Not yet. There were still people outside waiting for me to break. Eliot was still standing there, waiting for me to bow my head and give in. I moved along the wall, feeling my way to the corner. There was a decorative wolf bone altar set up in the canyon. I used everything I had left to lift the heaviest bone from it and drove it into the iron gate. The first blow left a hairline crack in the metal. The people outside startled. Someone shouted: “She’s lost her mind!” “That’s an alloy gate. She can’t break through.” “Seren, give it up. Just apologize and this all goes away.” I didn’t stop. Second blow. Third. My wrists went numb from the impact. The skin at my palm split open and blood ran down, mixing with the rain on the ground. The cracks spread wider with every hit. Lola finally panicked. She slapped the door from outside. “Seren, stop it!” “If that gate breaks, you’ll get hurt.” I let out a cold laugh. “Now you’re worried about me getting hurt?” Lola’s face drained of color. She turned back to look at Eliot. “Alpha Eliot, she’s actually going to break it.” Eliot’s brow furrowed hard. “Seren, stop.” “All you’re doing is making this worse.” I swung the bone and brought it down again. With a sharp crack, the gate finally split open at one corner. Cold air rushed in. I drove my foot into the gap.

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During the group photo, I crouched down to pick up a lens cap I’d dropped on the floor. When I looked up, Dylan had already raised his camera and pointed it straight at Wendy. I was about to move closer, but I could already see there was no space left for me in the frame. The colleagues around us laughed under their breath. “Here we go again. Every time Dylan shoots Wendy, you can just see it in his eyes.” “That’s what you call a photographer and his muse. Nobody gets it like they do.” My fingers tightened around the lens cap. Everyone said they had a natural chemistry. But nobody remembered that I was the girlfriend he’d been with for four years. In those four years, he took over a thousand photos of me. He never edited a single one. When I complained, he’d just ruffle my hair. “It’s not like you make a living off your looks. Why bother retouching them.” “Natural is better.” Then he’d turn around, open his editing software, and go through Wendy’s photos frame by frame. Carefully. Like he was crafting a grand confession. Watching his back, I suddenly understood in that moment. It wasn’t that everyone else had misread their relationship. It was that I had misread my own. I was never going to be the lead in his story.

Dylan poked his head out from behind the camera, brow slightly furrowed. “Lily, can you move over a little?” “The light is falling perfectly on Wendy’s face right now. The client needs these shots. We can’t mess this up.” He paused, then added. “I’ll take some of just you after.” My fingers went numb. I spoke quietly. “This is the spot I was assigned to stand in.” Dylan sighed and walked over to me. He reached out to ruffle my hair, but I turned my head away. His voice carried a note of resignation. “Stop being like this. Wendy’s dress is a dark color today, so she needs to stand in the center to catch the light.” He lowered his voice. “Just work with me today, okay? Once the client approves this set, I’ll make it up to you.” Wendy smiled at me apologetically. “Lily, why don’t you take the center spot? I really don’t mind. I don’t want you two fighting because of me.” Dylan turned toward her, his voice softening. “We’re not fighting. She’s just a little tired today. Hold your position and don’t move. That angle is perfect.” I looked down at the lens cap in my hand. Then I quietly stepped back two paces. “Go ahead and shoot.” The shutter clicked in rapid succession. Dylan kept his eyes on the screen, giving occasional direction on posing. From start to finish, he didn’t spare me a single glance. When the shoot wrapped up, everyone suggested going out for dinner. Dylan smoothly took the prop umbrella out of Wendy’s hands and turned to look at me. “Let’s go get Mexican. There’s a new place that just opened up the street.” I stood where I was and looked at him. “My gastritis just cleared up. I can’t eat spicy food this week.” Dylan paused. He came over and put his arm around my shoulder. “Everyone said they want to go.” He hesitated, then continued. “That place has mild options too. I’ll order you a plain soup so you don’t have to touch anything spicy. Just this once, okay?” That dinner brought back a memory. Another group outing, another table full of spicy food. We had just started dating. Not wanting to seem difficult in front of everyone, I pushed myself and took a bite. By midnight I was curled up on the edge of the bed, shaking from the pain. Dylan went pale with fear. He carried me on his back and rushed to the emergency room. He never let go of my hand the whole time. After that, he wrote it down in his phone’s notes app: Lily can’t eat spicy food. Needs bland food when her stomach hurts. Back then, he would’ve brushed off everyone else’s suggestion without a second thought. Just one sentence: Lily can’t handle it. But now, he clearly still remembered. The arm around my shoulder felt suffocating. I nodded.

“Okay.” At the restaurant, Dylan handed the menu to Wendy, and the two of them leaned together to discuss what to order. I sat on the other side. After all the food arrived. Dylan picked up a piece of baked lobster with cheese and placed it in Wendy’s bowl. “Try this one. The chef here is really good.” Wendy took a bite, her eyes lighting up. “Oh wow, this is amazing. You should try some too, Dylan.” Dylan. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d called him by his first name like that. I looked down and picked through the leaves floating in my soup. “Lily, how come you’re not eating?” A coworker across the table asked casually. Dylan turned and looked at my untouched bowl. His brow creased. “Still no appetite. When are you going to get over this picky eating thing.” Wendy set down her fork and looked at me. “Lily, are you upset with me? I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize you couldn’t eat any spice at all.” “I’ll go outside and order you something milder.” “Sit down.” Dylan pressed a hand on Wendy’s arm, his tone stiffening. “Excuse me, can we add another bowl of soup?” Then he looked at me. “And stop giving everyone the cold shoulder. We’re all here together.” A dull ache spread through my stomach. I looked up at him. Something caught in my throat. “Dylan, do you remember why I can’t eat spicy food?” He went still for a moment. I didn’t wait for his answer. I set down my fork. “Never mind. I’m done. Enjoy your meal, everyone.” When I got home, the living room was completely dark. I felt my way to the couch and sat down in the dark. The cramping in my stomach was sharp. I dug out some antacid tablets and swallowed them dry. A bitter taste spread through my throat. One in the morning. Dylan came in carrying the smell of the evening on him. He reached over and flicked on the light. “Why is it dark in here?” He kicked off his shoes, walked to the couch, and looked at me. I said nothing. He sighed and sat down beside me, pulling at his tie. “Are you still upset about tonight.” “Wendy just got into the industry. As someone more experienced, isn’t it natural for me to look out for her a little?” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Dylan, tomorrow is our four-year anniversary.” He blinked. A flicker of guilt crossed his eyes. “I know. I already booked a restaurant. I’ll clear my schedule tomorrow night to spend it with you.” “I’m exhausted tonight. I’m going to shower, and then I need to finish editing Wendy’s photos.” He got up without another word and walked straight into the bathroom. The sound of water started. I looked at the sketchbook he’d carelessly tossed on the table. Page after page of Wendy’s profile and silhouette. Every sketch had camera settings and notes written beside it. My photos, meanwhile, lived forever in a folder he’d simply named “Everyday.” The next afternoon. I left work early, bought groceries, and picked up the cake. He’d said he booked a restaurant, but I knew he’d been running himself ragged this week and would probably forget. Sure enough, at seven that evening. A voice message came in from Dylan. “Lily, I’m sorry. There’s a problem with Wendy’s set layout and I can’t get away.” “I canceled the restaurant reservation. Just grab something for yourself. I’ll definitely make it up to you tomorrow.” I listened to the whole thing without replying. I sat at the dining table and waited for a long time. The food went from steaming hot to a film of cold grease floating on the surface. I stared at the words on the cake. Happy 4th Anniversary. And I suddenly remembered that this time last year, I’d been quietly browsing engagement ring styles.

It turned out only one of us had been counting the years. I cut into the cake and took a bite. It was too sweet. Cloyingly, nauseously sweet. I sat there for a long time without moving. Then I threw the cake and all the food into the trash. At eleven that night, Dylan came home. He looked exhausted, but there was a brightness in his eyes. “Lily, Wendy’s photos came out incredible. The investors are thrilled. They’ve decided to expand her solo exhibition.” He had completely forgotten what day it was. I sat at my desk, organizing my work files. “Congratulations.” Dylan noticed the food in the trash and frowned. “That’s all you ate tonight? Didn’t I tell you to get yourself something decent?” “I didn’t stand you up on purpose. The situation with Wendy was unusual. It’s her first time carrying a project on her own. The pressure got to her.” He reached out to hold me. I stepped back. “Lily, do you really have to protest like this? Just shutting me out?” “I already said I’d make it up to you tomorrow.” I turned to face him. “I’m not protesting.” “I genuinely mean it. Congratulations.” Dylan suddenly turned irritable. “Fine, you’re not protesting.” He let out a cold laugh. “Then I won’t bother making it up to you either. Since you clearly don’t care.” He turned and walked toward the study. The door slammed shut behind him. I stared at the closed door, then pulled out my phone and opened an apartment listing app. I scrolled for a while. My finger stopped on a city two thousand kilometers away. Southport. There was a magazine there that I’d always wanted to work for. Over the next few days, Dylan practically lived at his studio. He was in the final push before his photography exhibition. On Friday afternoon, Dylan’s assistant called me. “Lily, Dylan’s stomach is really acting up. He’s sweating through it and still won’t go to the doctor. Could you maybe make some oatmeal and bring it over?” I almost said no, but then I thought about the empty pill box in his drawer. I went into the kitchen without a word. Last time, I told myself. I pushed open the studio door to a flurry of activity. I carried the insulated container straight to Dylan’s private room. The door wasn’t fully closed. There was a gap. I was about to push it open when I saw what was inside. Wendy was standing in front of a full-length mirror in a deep burgundy gown, turning slowly in a circle. Dylan was sitting nearby, his face pale, his eyes soft. “Does it look good?” Wendy asked, glancing back at him. “It looks beautiful.” Dylan smiled. “That color really suits your complexion.” My breath caught. That dress. Dylan had bought it last month while he was away on a work trip. He’d sent me a photo at the time and said he’d seen it and immediately thought of me. Said he was buying it as an early anniversary gift. But after he came home, the dress had never appeared. I thought he’d forgotten about it. Apparently, it had just found someone else to wear it. “But, didn’t Dylan buy this for Lily originally?” Wendy looked down, her voice uneasy. Dylan rubbed his temple, his voice dropping. “You need it for your audition today, so just wear it once. I’ll buy her a new one afterward. She won’t make a big deal out of this.” I took a slow breath and pushed the door open. Wendy’s face went white when she saw me. “Lily, let me explain. I’m only trying it on.” Dylan froze too. A flash of panic crossed his eyes. “What are you doing here?” I set the insulated container on the table. “Your assistant said your stomach was hurting.” “It’s nothing serious. Sorry for making you come all this way.”

He reached for the container. But Wendy stepped forward first. “Let me serve it for you.” She probably just wanted to break the tension, but she moved too fast. Her sleeve caught the edge of a document box. A clatter. The box hit the floor and everything inside spilled out. They were handmade photo albums. I had spent three full months rebuilding them from Dylan’s discarded negatives, turning them into a proper portfolio. I had originally planned to give them to him. I hoped they might remind him of why he fell in love with photography in the first place. But that day came and went, and I never got the chance to bring them out. Afterward, I had just left them at the studio. Now the photos were scattered across the floor. Wendy, trying to catch the falling container, stepped directly onto them. A stiletto heel punched straight through one of the prints. “Oh—” Wendy let out a sharp cry. She still couldn’t catch the container. Scalding oatmeal splashed out and landed across the top of her foot. “That burns,” she whimpered. Her eyes filled with tears instantly. She bent down, clutching her foot. Dylan shoved the table aside and yanked Wendy up. “Where did it burn? Let me see.” He glanced at the container, then at Wendy’s foot, his face dark. “Lily, I’m not blaming you.” “But couldn’t you have knocked before walking in? None of this would have happened.” I looked at the mess on the floor. My voice came out completely flat. “She knocked it over herself.” He helped Wendy to a seat, frowning at the scattered photos. I watched his concern for her, and felt something absurd move through me. I quietly crouched down and picked up the photos one by one. Then I dropped them all into the trash can beside me. The photography exhibition was set for that Saturday. It was the largest show Dylan had put on since opening his studio. Three months ago, when he handed me the planning documents, he pointed to the first item on the event rundown. “Lily, the featured speaker slot — that’s yours, no question.” “This studio wouldn’t be where it is today without four years of your support.” I’d turned down every company obligation to hold that commitment. I helped him secure the venue, coordinate with media, and rewrote every press release line by line. Saturday morning. A large banner stood at the entrance to the gallery. I stopped walking. My eyes dropped to the line near the bottom. The space where my name had been listed as featured speaker was covered by a sticker. It now read: Wendy. I looked at it for a moment. Then walked inside. Dylan was directing workers adjusting the lighting. When he saw me, he walked over quickly. His gaze swept over me briefly and his brow tightened. “You made it. Head to the back lounge and rest. The ribbon cutting is about to start.” I looked him in the eye. “The name on the banner. What happened?” Dylan paused. “The investors brought it up this morning at the last minute. I was in the middle of dealing with the press and didn’t have time to talk to you first.” “Lily, I know this isn’t fair to you. But we can’t have anything go wrong today. Once it’s all over, I’ll personally thank you in front of everyone.” I didn’t respond. I walked past him into the gallery. At one of the display stands hung a large print of a woman’s silhouette. The girl in the photo was wearing a white dress, standing on the rocks by the ocean. The light and shadow were handled perfectly. Something cold and mysterious breathed through the image. That was from two years ago, when Dylan and I took a trip to the coast. He had captured it in a spontaneous shot. At the time, he said it was the most soulful photograph he had ever taken. I looked at the label below the print. Title: Muse. The model field was blank. In its place, a single line of text.

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