1 On the eve of our fourth anniversary trip, Jonah was in the bathroom taking a shower. His phone screen suddenly lit up on the nightstand. The message was brief: [Dr. Beckett, my sister just got her divorce finalized. She is alone in the psychiatric ward and she is in a really bad place. Please, you have to come see her.] The sender’s number belonged to Toby, the younger brother of Aria, the girl Jonah had once loved with a fierce, self-destructive passion. She was the ghost that had haunted our relationship from day one. The hum of the shower died down. When Jonah walked out, towel drying his hair, I handed him the phone. I turned my back, not wanting to see the expression on his face. Within seconds, Jonah wrapped his arms around me from behind, resting his chin gently on the crown of my head. “Don’t worry, I’m not going,” he murmured. “I promised I’d take you on this trip, and I’m keeping that promise.” Just as my racing heart began to settle, another message flashed on the screen: [She has been sobbing for hours. She keeps repeating one thing over and over: Jonah, I regret it.] The arms wrapped around my waist stiffened. It was funny how the future we had spent four years building could be derailed so easily. The past only had to wave its hand, and he was already turning back. “Jonah,” I said softly. He did not hear me the first time. Only when I called his name again did he seem to snap out of his trance, his eyes instantly clouding with guilt. “Sorry, Nell. Things at the hospital have been so hectic lately, I keep zoning out.” He reached out to pull me into his chest, just like he always did, but I stood frozen. Noticing my stiffness, his voice grew tense. “Are you feeling okay? Are you sick?” I looked into his eyes, keeping my voice quiet and even. “If you want to go to the hospital to see her, we can reschedule our trip.” “I am not going,” he replied instantly. He even managed a small laugh, reaching out to gently tap the tip of my nose. “Silly girl, stop overthinking. I’m a doctor, not her private caretaker.” He said it lightly, but I knew Jonah. He was never a man to hesitate or lose focus. He was always decisive, except during his college years when he was dating Aria. Back then, he used to wear that exact same vacant, distracted look. I knew that look because I used to look up at Jonah the exact same way he looked up at Aria. We hit a quiet stalemate that night. Jonah apologized repeatedly, trying to soothe the unspoken tension between us. “Nell, I admit I got distracted, but you’re the only one in my heart now,” he said, cupping my face in his hands, his eyes searching mine. “I don’t love her. I haven’t loved her for a long time.” His gaze was so earnest that I almost believed him. Almost. But Jonah had once been so reckless for Aria. Even though I had been with him for four years, her shadow still loomed over us, cold and insurmountable. Late into the night, he finally managed to soothe me to sleep. Through the haze of slumber, I felt him slip out of bed. A moment later, the muffled sound of a tense conversation drifted in from the balcony. His voice was cold and sharp. “I am a doctor, yes, but I am not the only psychiatrist at that hospital.” He sounded nearly impatient. “The nurses can handle her. Stop calling my personal number. My girlfriend is going to misunderstand.” The weight in my chest finally lifted. Beneath the covers, I let out a quiet breath, smiling at my own insecurity. Soon, the bed dipped as he climbed back in. He pulled me flush against his chest, his warm breath tickling my ear. “I love you, Nell,” he whispered. I woke up early the next morning. Jonah had to finish a morning shift before his vacation officially started, so I packed our bags and headed to the airport ahead of him. Looking at our detailed travel itinerary, I could already picture the snow falling on our shoulders in Aspen. I waited at the gate until noon, when a text from him finally arrived: [Sweetheart, hang tight. Just wrapping up my last patient and then I’ll head straight to the airport.] I texted back a quick confirmation with a heart emoji. At the time, I had no idea that the last patient he referred to was Aria. The hours ticked away. The departure boards in the terminal flickered, updating constantly. All the daytime flights to our destination had already departed, leaving only the final red-eye of the night. If we missed this one, the winter storm forecast for tomorrow would ground all flights, and our fourth-anniversary trip would be completely ruined. Jonah still had not arrived. I called him multiple times, but my calls went straight to voicemail. A knot of anxiety tightened in my stomach. My first instinct, ridiculously enough, was to worry that he had been in a car crash on his way to the airport. 2 Finally, my phone buzzed. I answered it immediately. “Jonah? Are you okay?” “Hello? Who is this?” a soft, delicate female voice answered. My throat went dry. It was Aria. “If you’re looking for Dr. Beckett, you’ll have to wait a moment,” she said calmly, her tone completely devoid of malice. “He went to get me some of his homemade potato soup.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Potato soup. Jonah had spent nearly an hour in the kitchen this morning, slow-cooking it and leaving it in a thermos for me. He had once told me: “I only learned how to cook because of you, Nell. I only want to make these things for you.” I had always believed that this soup, this small gesture, was the one thing that set me apart from Aria. The line went quiet for a few seconds before Jonah’s voice came through. “Hey, Nell. I’m so sorry. Something urgent came up at the hospital today. It looks like we’ll have to push the trip back.” He apologized over and over, but he never mentioned Aria’s name. If she was just a patient, why the lie? What did his promise last night even mean? “I’m coming to the hospital,” I said, my voice eerily calm. There was a brief pause on the other end. “…Okay.” The sterile scent of disinfectant hung heavy in the hospital corridor. I stood outside the door of ward three. Through the small glass window, I saw Jonah sitting on the edge of the bed, holding a warm bowl. He carefully blew on a spoonful of soup before feeding it to Aria. Her movements were a bit sluggish, but she complied, swallowing quietly. Then, she picked up a half-eaten apple from the bedside table and offered it to him. Jonah smiled, leaned down, and took a bite right from the spot she had bitten. My breath caught. Jonah had mild germophobia. He was a man who politely declined when I tried to feed him with my own fork, yet here he was, sharing a half-eaten apple with another woman without a second thought. A dull, throbbing pain bloomed in my chest. There was nothing special about me. The rules he broke for her were the rules he rigidly kept with me. It was never about the action; it was always about the person. When I pushed the door open, Jonah froze. He hastily set the bowl and the apple down on the table. Aria did not look at me. Like a tired bird, she tilted her head and naturally rested her cheek against Jonah’s chest. He did not pull away. Jonah stood there and let her lean on him. I stood in the doorway, watching them. I felt like an intruder who had walked into someone else’s movie, making even my breathing feel like an inconvenience. “Nell,” Jonah said, finally standing up. Aria swayed slightly, losing her support. His face was a mask of guilt. “You can see how she is. The trauma affected her mind, she is acting like a child right now. Please don’t take it to heart, okay?” How could I not? My lips curved into a bitter smile, but the only word that escaped me was a hollow, “Okay.” Just as I was trying to force myself to accept his explanation, Aria looked up. Her eyes were vacant, but her voice was as soft as a feather. “Jonah, I like you so much.” Jonah went rigid, his expression turning incredibly complex. “Hold me, please?” She reached out her arms, her eyes wide and innocent, like a child who knew no boundaries. But this time, Jonah pushed her hand away. He quickly walked over to me, grabbed my wrist, and pulled me out into the corridor. “She is sick, Nell. She doesn’t know what she’s saying,” he said, closing the door behind us to shut her out. He repeated the same empty phrase: “Don’t take it to heart.” Seeing my silence, he let out a heavy sigh and cupped my face with both hands, forcing me to look into his exhausted eyes. “She is in a terrible state, Nell. Her ex-husband abused her for years, and she finally snapped when she caught him cheating,” he explained, his voice thick with emotion. “I had no intention of seeing her this morning, I swear. I remembered my promise to you. But her ex-husband showed up at the clinic, trying to drag her away. She was huddled in a corner, screaming my name. With all my colleagues watching, I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Just this once, Nell, please understand.” The desperation in his voice felt so real. It seemed as though he was just a good man carrying a burden he could not shake. 3 For a second, I almost relented. But then the image of him biting that apple flashed in my mind, the ease with which he threw away his principles for her. “Jonah,” I said, my voice dry. “The last flight is at nine tonight. Our trip.” He smiled, ruffling my hair the way he always did, momentarily dispelling the gloom. “We don’t have to wait until nine. Let’s go now.” “Dr. Beckett, the test results for bed three are in,” a nurse called out from down the hall. Bed three. Aria. “I’ll look at them right away,” Jonah replied instantly. The smile had barely left his face, but his body was already turning toward the nurse. My agreement died in my throat, shattering silently. And so, I ended up waiting at the hospital while he ran tests for her. By the time I checked my watch, it was six in the evening. If we did not leave for the airport now, we would miss the flight. “It’s six o’clock,” I said, standing by his desk, my voice quiet. Jonah was buried in paperwork, his brow furrowed as he reviewed Aria’s thick medical file. “Almost done. Just give me a few more minutes.” He did not even look up. Looking at the towering stack of files, I knew that “almost done” was a lie. My patience finally wore thin. “Aria is asleep now, Jonah. She isn’t going to wake up and demand you stay. Can’t another doctor on duty look at these files?” “No, they can’t,” he snapped, his pen never pausing. “Why not?” The question hung in the silence of the office. “Nell, can you please be quiet for a second? You’re distracting me, and I can’t get this done if you keep talking,” Jonah said, his forehead creasing with irritation. A wave of hurt washed over me. It was our anniversary trip, yet somehow I was the one being unreasonable. Perhaps seeing the tears welling in my eyes, Jonah softened. He sighed, walked around the desk, and took my hand. “I’m sorry. I’m just incredibly tired today, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” His grip was warm and familiar. “But Aria’s case is highly complex, and the board is monitoring it. Because of our history, I know her psychological triggers better than anyone else. But I promise you, I will make this up to you.” With that, he shut the file, handed it over to the resident on duty, and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curved into a smile. “Come on, let’s go catch that flight.” “Dr. Beckett! The patient in bed three says—” another nurse ran up to us. “I’m off the clock,” Jonah interrupted her, his voice firm and clear. “Dr. Vance is taking over her case. I am taking my fiancée on vacation.” He pulled me by the hand, leading me past his colleagues and out of the hospital doors. The cold wind whipped against my face, but my cheeks felt hot. I asked myself if I was being too petty. She was just an old acquaintance who needed help, right? Only a month ago, Jonah had knelt on one knee and asked me to marry him. We were going to spend the rest of our lives together. The past belonged in the past. I forced myself to believe it as we boarded the flight to Aspen. During the flight, he adjusted my blanket and reclined my seat, talking and laughing just as he always did. But when he looked out the window at the heavy clouds, I saw the emptiness in his eyes. We landed, checked into our hotel, and everything went according to plan. The next day was filled with ice sculptures, skiing, and hot springs. The hospital drama felt like a minor bump in the road. Until that night, while Jonah was in the shower. His phone lit up on the nightstand with a stream of messages: [Dr. Beckett, Aria is doing a bit better, but she refuses to take her medication. She keeps crying and asking for you. Please, just call her.] [She just called me, Jonah. Don’t you want to know how much she has missed you all these years?] The sender was Toby. The timestamp was five minutes ago. I stared at the screen, my thumb hovering over the delete button for a long time. In the end, I put the phone back down. I was gambling. I was gambling our four years of history against his lingering feelings, hoping the scale would finally tip in my favor. 4 Jonah stepped out of the bathroom, water dripping from the ends of his hair. He picked up his phone, glanced at the notifications with a neutral face, and tossed it onto the sofa. He sat down, scrolling through social media and occasionally letting out a soft laugh. But that night, he was desperate. He kissed me with a frantic intensity, as if trying to leave his mark on every inch of my skin. Then, in the heat of the moment, a soft murmur escaped his lips: “Aria.” The name shattered the room. I froze, my body turning cold. In the darkness, the only sound was our heavy, ragged breathing. Jonah froze too. A second later, he scrambled to pull me back into his arms. “Nell! I’m so sorry! I…” He held me from behind, his hands trembling as he covered my clenched fists. “I zoned out, I swear! I was just thinking about the neurological patterns of her case! It’s a highly unusual medical phenomenon, and the hospital is putting a lot of pressure on me. I would never do anything to hurt you.” “Enough,” I whispered, my voice cracked and dry. I did not want to hear another word. Four years. More than a thousand days and nights, wiped out by the return of an old flame. Did he know that a tiny life was currently growing inside me? A secret that belonged to the two of us? The words rushed to the back of my throat, but I swallowed them down, bitter and cold. “Jonah,” I said, staring into the dark room. “I am so incredibly disappointed in you.” He fell silent. After a long pause, his voice returned, low and steady, but each word cut like glass. “I told you, I am only taking care of her because of my duty as a doctor. I didn’t have a choice in the beginning, but I left everything behind to come here with you. What more do you want from me, Nell?” Jonah had always been a gentle man. Even during our worst arguments, he had never spoken to me with such cold impatience. But ever since Aria got divorced and came back, everything had changed. Beside me, he turned over, his back to me. Though we were inches apart, he felt miles away. I closed my eyes, praying for sleep, but my tears soaked the pillow. Meanwhile, his breathing soon became deep and even. He had actually fallen asleep. When I woke up the next morning, the space beside me was empty and cold. His suitcase was gone. His shaving cream, his toothbrush, everything was missing from the bathroom. It was as if a sudden gust of wind had swept through the room, erasing every trace of his existence. He had left. Between me and Aria, he had made his choice without leaving so much as a note. Outside the window, the snow we had planned to watch together was still falling, beautiful and silent. But the man who had promised to watch it with me was gone. I calmly unlocked my phone and booked an appointment at an OB-GYN clinic back home. I packed my bags alone, navigated the crowded airport alone, and boarded the flight back to Boston alone. The day of my appointment, some morbid curiosity drew me to the psychiatric wing of the hospital first. The door to ward three was slightly ajar. Aria’s laughter drifted out, completely different from her usual fragile, childish demeanor. “Don’t worry, I’m doing great here. Jonah is taking perfect care of me.” “Of course he still cares. I knew he could never truly forget me.” “Even when I pretended to mistake him for my ex-husband and held onto him, he didn’t push me away.” It was all an act. Anger flared in my chest, burning away my remaining sanity. I thought of Jonah, a man who prided himself on his clinical objectivity, being played like a fool. Before I realized what I was doing, I pushed the door open, my voice trembling with rage. “You are still lying to him, Aria. Have you forgotten how badly you destroyed him the first time?” Aria gasped, staring at me in shock. Then, in the blink of an eye, tears welled in her eyes, and she shrunk back, looking fragile and defenseless. “What are you talking about?” She wrapped her arms around herself, trembling as she looked past my shoulder. “Jonah, I’m scared.” Jonah rushed into the room, his face tight with tension. “What’s going on here?” “I’m sorry,” Aria sobbed, beating me to the punch. “I shouldn’t keep troubling you. Nell must have misunderstood. But Jonah, you know I can’t handle people raising their voices at me. My condition…” She whimpered, timed to perfection. Jonah immediately stepped between us, shielding her with his body. He glared at me, his voice cold as ice. “I am the one who insisted on overseeing her treatment, Nell. If you have a problem, take it out on me. Her condition is finally stabilizing, and she cannot handle any emotional distress. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is?” He rubbed his temples, looking thoroughly exhausted. “I know you’re angry that I left the hotel without telling you. Just go wait in my office, and I’ll handle this.” He actually thought I had traveled all this way just to pick a fight over him. An explanation? What was left to explain? I bit my lower lip so hard the taste of blood filled my mouth. I turned and walked straight toward the elevator, pressing the button for the OB-GYN wing.

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Every time my chauffeur drove me to the office, he brought his girlfriend along. Since it was supposedly on the way, I never made a fuss about it. That was until the morning I opened the door to my Maybach and found a sticky note slapped right onto my reserved backseat. “Broke hitchhikers keep out.” I ripped the paper off the leather and looked at my driver. “What is the meaning of this?” His little girlfriend was sitting shotgun. She twisted around and glared at me, her voice dripping with venom. “Are you illiterate? You try to hitch a ride in my boyfriend’s car every single day. Have you no shame? If you can’t afford an Uber, stay home. I absolutely loathe cheap freeloaders like you!” I stared at her in sheer bewilderment. My driver instantly scrambled out, rushing to my side and lowering his voice to a frantic whisper. “Boss, she doesn’t know I’m your chauffeur. She’s just a little possessive. She put that up because she loves me. Listen, she’s really uncomfortable sharing a ride with you. Let me drop her off first, and I’ll come right back to pick you up.” Before I could even process his audacity, he hopped back into my car and sped off, leaving me eating his dust. I stood frozen on the pavement for a few seconds. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed the police. “Hello, I’d like to report a grand theft auto. A man and a woman just stole my vehicle. Please send officers immediately.” 1 I never imagined that as the CEO of a publicly traded corporation, I would be pointed at and called a broke freeloader. Especially while standing outside my own multimillion dollar ride. Twenty minutes after I made the call, a police cruiser pulled up to the curb. The two officers had barely stepped out to take my statement when Connor came screeching around the corner in my sleek black Maybach. He slammed on the brakes right in front of us, stumbling out of the driver’s seat with a face as white as a sheet. “Boss, what is going on? Why did you call the cops?” I gave him a freezing look and kept my mouth shut. One of the officers looked him up and down. “Are you the individual Ms. Cathy reported for taking her vehicle without permission?” Connor completely panicked. “No, Officer, no! This is a massive misunderstanding! I’m her chauffeur! I drive her every single day. I just dropped someone off on the way and got delayed by a few minutes. I didn’t steal anything!” He gestured wildly toward my car, forcing a pathetic, apologetic smile. “Look, I brought the car right back, didn’t I?” The officer glanced between the two of us. “Ms. Cathy, do you still wish to press charges?” I was just about to tell them to arrest him when Connor practically folded himself in half, whispering desperately into my ear. “Boss, please. For the sake of the years my dad drove for you, let me off the hook this one time. You know how sick my old man is. Finding a girlfriend was the only way to give him some peace of mind. I only drove off like that to keep my relationship intact. I didn’t have a choice.” Hearing him bring up his father made a knot form in my chest. Henry had been my chauffeur for six years. He was an honest, hardworking man who never caused a sliver of drama. In all those years, he was never late, never broke a traffic rule, and even tried to refuse the holiday bonuses I slipped him. Three months ago, Henry was diagnosed with a severe lung condition that required permanent rest. He had no choice but to step down. On his last day, he stood in my pristine office, wringing his calloused hands together. After agonizing over his words, he finally asked if I could give his unemployed son a chance. Henry had lived his entire life without asking anyone for a favor. That was his first and only time. Out of deep respect for him, I nodded. Connor actually did a decent job for his first two months. He wasn’t the sharpest employee, but he showed up on time, drove safely, and kept the car immaculate. But everything changed last month. One morning, I walked out to find a woman caked in heavy makeup sitting in the passenger seat. Seeing my confusion, Connor quickly opened my door and whispered an excuse. “Boss, this is my girlfriend, Tiffany. Her workplace is right on the way to the corporate headquarters. I’m just giving her a quick lift.” I simply nodded. Giving someone a ride on a shared route wasn’t a fireable offense. But as the days bled on, I started realizing how twisted the situation was becoming. 2 That so called quick lift turned into an ironclad daily routine. Every morning, Connor would pick Tiffany up before coming to get me. At first, she just liked snapping selfies in the passenger seat, posting videos to flaunt that she was riding in a Maybach. I brushed it off. Young girls have their vanity. But what I couldn’t wrap my head around was the absolute disgust in Tiffany’s eyes whenever she looked back at me. She glared at me like I had personally bankrupted her family. A few times, right after I got into the backseat, she pulled out a bottle of overwhelming perfume and sprayed it frantically in my direction. “God, it is so annoying,” she would complain loudly. “How does a car this expensive always reek of cheap, poor desperation?” I genuinely thought she smelled something foul from the streets, so I even ordered Connor to take the car in for a deep clean and sterilization. But her antics only escalated. She started wiping down the backseat with sanitizing wipes the second I stepped out. Then, she progressed to tossing cheap, disposable seat covers onto the premium leather before I got in. When I demanded an explanation, Connor would pull me aside and offer a pathetic, sheepish smile. “Boss, Tiffany is just a clean freak. She’s terrified the seats might get your expensive designer suits dirty, so she goes overboard with the hygiene.” I didn’t have the bandwidth to overthink it. I was managing billion dollar acquisitions and endless board meetings. I did not have the energy to wage war against a petty twenty something girl. It wasn’t until this morning, when I saw that sticky note treating me like a stray dog, that all the pieces finally clicked together. Tiffany literally thought I was a pathetic hitchhiker mooching off her boyfriend’s ride. My initial plan was to teach both of them a harsh lesson right then and there. But looking at Connor practically groveling at my feet, begging for mercy… “Boss, I swear on my life, this will never happen again. I will tell Tiffany the truth today. She will never ride in this car again. Please, look at how sick my dad is. Just forgive me this once.” Thinking of old Henry, I let out a heavy sigh. “Forget it. I’m dropping the charges.” Once the police drove away, Connor exhaled a massive breath of relief. He bowed over and over, his attitude suddenly angelic. I ignored his theatrics, got into the car, and told him to take me to work. To his credit, Connor behaved himself for a while after that. The passenger seat remained empty. The interior smelled like fresh leather again, and the sticky note residue was scrubbed completely clean. The only issue was his sudden inability to be on time. He was perpetually late, and he always had a tailored excuse ready. “Boss, I am so sorry, there was a massive pileup on the highway.” “Boss, my sincerest apologies, my phone died and the alarm didn’t go off.” “Boss, a pipe burst in my apartment and I had to deal with the downstairs neighbors.” His excuses were flimsy at best, but since he remained excessively polite, I let it slide. I thought that was the end of the drama. Until one weekend, I spontaneously decided to spend a couple of days unwinding at my private estate out in the countryside. I called Connor. “Where are you? I need to go somewhere. Bring the car around.” He stammered on the other end for a painfully long time before answering in a strained voice. “Boss, I woke up to a blown tire this morning. I’m sitting at the repair shop right now, and the mechanic says it won’t be ready until tomorrow. Where do you need to go? Should I call a premium black car service for you?” I frowned, not wanting to deal with the hassle. “Never mind. I’ll get an Uber.” I hung up and ordered a ride to the Whispering Pines Estate. But the moment I stepped out of the Uber at the grand iron gates, I froze. My black Maybach, without a single flat tire in sight, was parked perfectly in my private driveway. I stared at the license plate for a solid five seconds to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. My blood turned to ice. I marched straight up to the massive front doors. The heavy mahogany door was cracked open. I pushed it wide and took one look at the inside. My mind went completely blank. 3 The pristine living room of my sanctuary was a literal landfill. Empty liquor bottles, fruit peels, sunflower seed shells, and cigarette butts littered the imported marble coffee tables and the custom hardwood floors. My multimillion dollar velvet sofas and handwoven rugs were stained with muddy footprints. Worse, I could see dark, charred burn holes chewed into the fabric from careless cigarettes. My fists clenched so hard my manicured nails bit into my palms. I bought this estate specifically to escape the chaos of the city. I had personally designed every inch of the interior. I treated this home like a shrine. And now, a pack of wild animals was tearing it to shreds. I swept my gaze across the room and locked onto the center sofa. Tiffany was lounging there like a queen holding court. A crowd of loud, obnoxious people surrounded her. “Tiffany, you seriously hit the jackpot. I can’t believe you locked down a billionaire.” “Right? He’s loaded and he treats you like royalty! You said you were craving a pastry, and he literally ran out the door like a puppy to go buy you one.” “When you officially become the lady of the manor, do not forget about us little people!” Tiffany’s lips curled into a smug, arrogant grin. She opened her mouth to soak up more praise, but her eyes flicked upward and landed on me standing in the doorway. Her smile vanished. She practically leaped off the sofa, her stilettos clicking sharply against my marble floors as she marched up to me with her chin in the air. Smack! Without a single word of warning, she slapped me across the face so hard my ears rang. “You absolute psychotic bitch! You stalked my boyfriend all the way to his house?” The sheer shock of the blow left me rooted to the spot. The music died. The room went dead silent as her friends gaped at us. “Tiffany, what is going on?” someone asked. Tiffany pointed a perfectly manicured finger at my face, her expression twisting into pure revulsion. “This is that pathetic little stalker I was telling you guys about! The one who constantly tries to hitch a ride in my boyfriend’s Maybach. Hitching rides wasn’t enough for her, so now she’s trying to crash his private estate!” I stared at her, my cheek burning, completely unable to comprehend her delusion. “Who on earth told you this house belongs to Connor?” Tiffany scoffed loudly. “He told me himself, you idiot.” She crossed her arms, looking me up and down like I was trash on the sidewalk. “You pathetic little homewrecker. You found out my boyfriend is the CEO of Apex Industries, and now you’re doing everything in your power to seduce him. Forcing your way into his car every morning to get alone time wasn’t enough, so now you show up at his mansion to throw yourself at him?” She leaned in closer, spitting her words at me. “Let me spell it out for you. Connor told me the only reason he ever drove you to work is because you’re a low level employee at his company and he didn’t want to make a scene. Know your place and back off!” Connor actually fed her this garbage? Suddenly, her psychotic behavior in the car made perfect sense. In her twisted little world, Connor was the billionaire CEO who owned the Maybach and the estate. And I was just a desperate, bottom feeding intern working under him. She honestly believed I was mooching rides to seduce her rich boyfriend. It was beyond absurd. Tiffany spun around to face her audience, raising her voice to make sure everyone heard. “Do you guys know how shameless this woman is? She literally glued herself to my boyfriend’s car and refused to leave! I even left her a note telling her to back off, and she threw a massive tantrum and called the cops, claiming my boyfriend was abusing his employees! She made such a massive scene that Connor had to start picking me up early, dropping me off, and then driving all the way back just to shuttle her around so she wouldn’t ruin his company’s reputation!” My eyes widened in realization. No wonder Connor had been late every single day this month. He was secretly playing billionaire, chauffeuring her around the city first, and then rushing back to do his actual job. Well played, Connor. Since you want to treat me like a clueless pawn in your little fantasy, do not blame me for tearing your world apart. 4 I pulled out my phone right then and there, dialing the head of my legal department. “Get a team down to the Whispering Pines Estate immediately…” Before I could finish the sentence, Tiffany lunged forward, snatched the phone out of my hand, and smashed it onto the marble floor. The screen spiderwebbed into a thousand pieces. “God, you are such a phenomenal actress!” she screamed. “Your estate? This is my boyfriend’s house, you psycho!” Her friends snapped out of their shock and started hurling insults at me. “What a shameless whore! She hasn’t even bagged the billionaire yet, and she’s already claiming his real estate as her own?” “Some women are just born cheap. The second they smell money, they spread their legs and beg on their knees. It makes me sick.” “You are way too nice, Tiffany! If some stray dog tried this with my man, I would have ripped her hair out!” Fueled by her friends’ toxic hype, Tiffany grew even bolder. She grabbed the collar of my silk blouse and yanked me forward. “Do you hear them? Everyone knows exactly what you are.” Suddenly, her eyes darted down to my throat. A greedy spark lit up her face. “This vintage emerald pendant doesn’t look cheap. Did you buy this by selling yourself to other rich men?” Before I could even blink, her hand shot out. She hooked her fingers around the delicate gold chain and ripped it right off my neck. The violent pull burned my skin. By the time I reacted, the necklace was dangling from her grip. The blood drained from my face. “Give that back to me right now!” Seeing my sheer panic, Tiffany smirked. “Aw, getting defensive? This must be worth a fortune.” I took a desperate step forward. “It has no monetary value, but it means everything to me. Give it back.” I reached out to grab it. That emerald pendant was the only thing I had left of my mother. She had traded her life for it. I was born sickly and frail. When I was four years old, I fell into a coma. The hospital gave up. The doctors told my parents to start making funeral arrangements. My mother refused to accept it. Desperate and broken, she went to a remote monastery deep in the mountains to beg for a miracle. To prove her devotion, she climbed the brutal, jagged mountain trail in the middle of a scorching summer heatwave. She took one step, then dropped to her knees and bowed, repeating the process for miles. She crawled until her knees were shredded to the bone. She bowed until her forehead was cracked and bleeding, her vision completely blurring. Only then did the monks bless that emerald pendant for her. Maybe the heavens actually listened to a mother’s bleeding heart. Against all medical logic, I woke up. But my mother never recovered. The brutal climb destroyed her frail body. Before she passed away, she placed that pendant in my tiny hands and begged me to never lose it. I treasured it more than my own life. I wore it every single day. It was the only armor I had in this cutthroat world. I would not let anyone defile it. “The more you want it, the better it will feel to destroy it,” Tiffany sneered. Before my fingers could even graze the gold chain, Tiffany raised her arm and hurled the necklace onto the marble floor with all her strength. A sickening, sharp crack echoed through the room. The heirloom emerald shattered into pieces, sending jagged green shards skittering across the floor. “No!” I stared at the broken pieces of my mother’s soul. It felt like a knife had just been twisted directly into my heart. All the air vanished from the room. “You absolute monster!” Blinded by grief and rage, I swung my arm and slapped Tiffany across the face with every ounce of strength I had. “You bitch! Did you just hit me?” Tiffany shrieked, clutching her burning cheek. “Teach this whore a lesson! Whoever beats her the worst gets a hundred thousand dollars from me!” Hearing the promise of cash, her friends’ eyes turned feral. They swarmed me, shoving me to the floor and raining kicks down on my body. “You dare touch her? She’s about to be the lady of Apex Industries! You are nothing!” “So what if she broke your little necklace? You probably bought it with dirty money anyway. Go sleep with a few more men and buy a new one! Stop being so dramatic!” “You dare strike the future wife in her own house? You’re asking to die!” I lay curled up on the cold floor, shielding my head from the blows, my entire body trembling with an icy rage. I gritted my teeth, tasting blood in my mouth. “You are all going to regret this.” The room erupted into roaring laughter, as if I had just told the funniest joke in the world. “Oh my god, I am terrified! Her boyfriend is the CEO of a multi billion dollar empire. Who the hell are you to make us regret anything?” “You are literally just a bottom feeding intern begging for attention. You sell your body for a living and you think you can threaten us?” “Know your place, trash. When you get beaten, you stay down and take it.” They pinned me down, their vicious insults washing over me. Tiffany pushed through the crowd, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back. “Regret?” She laughed darkly. “I have never regretted a single thing in my life. I cannot wait to see how a pathetic little bitch like you is going to make me regret anything!” The moment the words left her mouth, a convoy of sleek black SUVs roared up the driveway, slamming their brakes right outside the grand entrance.

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I was three months pregnant, and it was the day before the promotion list was set to be officially announced. Behind my back, my colleague Jenny wasted no time leaking the news to our boss. Mr. Bennett called me into his office, phrasing it as tactfully as he could: “This role comes with immense pressure. Given your current condition, it might not be the best fit.” Later, Jenny cornered me in the breakroom, offering a smug smile as she cooed, “You’re about to be a mom, after all. Stop trying to snatch these opportunities from us younger folks.” I didn’t argue, nor did I throw a tantrum. During the evaluation meeting the next day, in front of the entire department, I voluntarily stepped aside and yielded the promotion to her. Fearing I might back out, Jenny urged HR on the spot to modify the official appointment letter right then and there. I simply smiled and reminded her: “Since you’re accepting the role, you should sign the transition documents as well.” Without so much as looking at the pages, she eagerly scrawled her name. Two weeks later, the company auditors walked in. Clutching the promotion letter she had fought so hard for, Jenny wept and begged me: “Please, can I give this position back to you?” 1 After the evaluation meeting adjourned, Jenny practically chased the HR director into the printing room. She was terrified I would change my mind. Or that Mr. Bennett would. Only minutes earlier, inside the conference room, her eyes had been brimming with tears as she looked at me. “Amy, I know how hard you worked for this. I feel so guilty taking this opportunity from you.” Yet the second the double doors swung shut, she pivoted on her stilettos and bolted after Brenda, our HR manager. “Brenda, will the official appointment letter be ready today?” Brenda glanced over her shoulder at me, looking slightly uncomfortable. “The standard protocol requires a multi-level approval. Tomorrow morning at the earliest.” Jenny immediately slid her arm through Brenda’s, offering a sweet, persuasive smile. “Can’t we make an exception for a special case? Mr. Bennett and the department heads were all present, and everyone heard Amy hand over the role. We should strike while the iron is hot, just to keep things clean.” She paused, turning her head to look back at me. “I don’t mean to sound untrustworthy, Amy. I just think the cleaner the company’s documentation is, the better it is for everyone.” She claimed it wasn’t about trust, but her eyes were sharp with paranoia. It was as if she expected me, a woman three months pregnant, to suddenly throw myself over her to claw back the promotion. I leaned against the hallway wall, one hand pressed flat against my stomach, trying to suppress the rising wave of nausea. Halfway through the meeting, my morning sickness had hit me like a wave, and I had been forced to suffer through the final twenty minutes in silence. Everyone in that room had noticed my pale face. And everyone had heard Jenny whisper, “Amy, given how you’re feeling, are you sure you can handle the pressure of this role?” She had kept her voice just loud enough for Mr. Bennett to hear. Mr. Bennett had immediately tabled the announcement slide he was about to project. He looked at me, his voice heavy with executive concern. “Amy, the company appreciates your dedication. But the role of Operations Manager isn’t just about sitting in an office signing papers.” “You have to run after clients, manage aggressive suppliers, and late-night emergency calls are the norm. Given your current situation, the company has to evaluate the operational risks.” Risks. I looked down at my flat stomach. The baby was only twelve weeks old, not even showing, yet in their eyes, I had already become a liability. Jenny had stood beside Mr. Bennett, her lower lip trembling. “Mr. Bennett, maybe we should forget it. Amy has prepared for this for so long, I don’t want to be the reason she’s unhappy.” The more she played the martyr, the more Mr. Bennett admired her maturity. “Jenny, there is no need to step aside,” he said firmly. “The company needs someone who can carry the weight.” And just like that, the promotion I had spent six months preparing for, pulling countless all-night sessions to secure, was handed over to Jenny. The hum of the industrial printer echoed from the room. Brenda walked out, holding a fresh, crisp sheet of paper. “Jenny, you are officially the Acting Operations Manager for Operations Department Two, effective immediately. The trial period is three months.” Jenny took the paper, her eyes gleaming as if she had just struck gold. She scanned the lines twice before turning to me with a look of mock concern. “Amy, you’re really not upset, are you?” “Do you want me to be?” I asked quietly. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. “I just worry you might feel slighted. You put so much work into this transition.” “Not at all,” I replied, setting my laptop down on a nearby table. “My physical condition is delicate right now, and a lighter workload is exactly what I need.” Hearing this, she let out a visible breath of relief. She had finally gotten the validation she wanted: I was just a fragile pregnant woman who needed to step aside. In the next second, she waved the appointment letter toward a group of gossiping colleagues at the end of the hall. “I look forward to working with everyone in my new capacity!” A few people clapped. Others began to cheer. “Congratulations, Manager! You’ll have to look out for us now!” “Manager, you owe us a round of drinks!” Jenny giggled, covering her mouth. “Don’t call me that yet, it’s still just ‘Acting.’” But the smug curve of her lips remained. Looking at her face, I remembered the conversation I had overheard in the breakroom yesterday. She had been talking to two other girls from sales. “Pregnant women should act like they’re pregnant. The office isn’t her nursery, so why should a pregnant woman hoard a promotion?” I had been standing outside the door, holding a bottle of yogurt I had bought for her. When her stomach had flared up from stress last month, I was the one who took over her client meetings. When her boyfriend broke up with her, I stayed with her until eleven at night, rewriting her presentation slides. And now, she was telling people I was hoarding a spot. I suddenly felt a strange sense of peace. Some spots were indeed better left to others. As Jenny turned to head to her new desk, I called out to her. “Jenny, since the appointment is official, let’s complete the project handover today.” She stopped. “So soon?” I smiled. “Like you said, the cleaner the documentation, the better.” I opened my laptop and dragged a folder onto the shared drive. The title was simple: CareCore Project Handover. It contained eighteen subfolders, including client profiles, supplier contracts, payment milestones, outstanding issues, and risk assessments. Jenny glanced at the screen, her brow furrowing. “This is a lot of paperwork.” “The title of Manager comes with responsibilities,” I said smoothly. “And problems.” 2 Jenny’s first executive order was to move her desk. The manager of Operations Department Two had a small, private office: glass partitions, a window view, and a quiet space away from the open floor. That office had originally been reserved for me. Last month, facilities had even asked if I wanted a customized ergonomic chair. I had declined. Now, Jenny stood at the threshold, directing the office assistants. “Put the money plant by the window, yes, it brings good feng shui. Clear out all those old files on the desk, they look so cluttered. And change the blinds to a lighter shade, I hate dark rooms.” She patrolled the space like a queen surveying her domain. When she passed my desk, she paused. “Amy, have you compiled all the CareCore files? I’m holding my first department meeting this afternoon.” “The digital folders have been shared with your inbox,” I replied. “But I still need your physical signature on the transition ledger.” Jenny pulled up a chair beside me, lowering her voice. “Amy, are you still angry with me?” I looked at her. Her eyes immediately welled with tears. “I know this feels unfair, but it wasn’t my decision. Mr. Bennett was looking at the bigger picture. He felt your pregnancy made you a liability for high-intensity work. I was simply put in this position.” Her voice was pitched perfectly so that the surrounding desks could hear every word. Mike, a senior sales rep, immediately chimed in. “Amy, don’t take it personally. Being pregnant is a blessing, you shouldn’t be overworking yourself anyway.” Hazel from finance agreed. “Exactly, there will be plenty of promotions in the future. Your health comes first.” Another male colleague offered a smirk. “Maternity leave is six months long. By the time you get back, who knows what the company will look like? Taking a promotion now wouldn’t be fair to the team.” He seemed to think he was being incredibly clever. “Your primary target right now is delivering a healthy baby.” A few people chuckled. My grip on my mug tightened. Jenny looked down, a tiny, satisfied smirk playing at the corner of her mouth. When she looked up again, her face was once more a mask of sisterly concern. “Amy, they’re just looking out for you. Don’t take it to heart.” Listening to their endless stream of patronizing advice, my stomach churned. I hadn’t uttered a single word of complaint, yet they had already mapped out my entire existence. Pregnant. Fragile. Needs protection. Unfit for responsibility. Should step aside. During the afternoon department meeting, Jenny’s first order of business was to display her new organizational chart. On the projector, my name had been moved from CareCore Project Director to the bottom right corner of the slide. Beside my name was a note: Maternity Administrative Support. The meeting room fell silent. I stared at the slide, my fingers tapping a quiet rhythm on the table. Jenny smiled warmly at the room. “Since Amy is expecting, we naturally want to support her. I will be handling the heavy lifting and client negotiations from here on out.” She turned to me. “Amy, you don’t mind, do you?” Every eye in the room turned toward me. I shook my head. “Not at all.” Jenny’s smile widened. “Wonderful.” She clicked to the next slide. “The CareCore project is our most critical delivery this year. Some of our previous workflows might have been a bit too conservative, but under my management, we are going to streamline the process.” “I don’t believe in dragging things out. We sign what needs to be signed, we push back on what needs to be pushed back, and we collect our payments.” Mike immediately clapped. “Love the execution, Manager!” Jenny sat up straighter. “Unlike some people, I don’t believe in over-complicating things. A project shouldn’t take three years to close. If the client isn’t tired of the delays, the board certainly is.” Her words were a direct jab at me. I didn’t argue. I simply opened my notebook and wrote down her exact words: Sign what needs to be signed. Push back on what needs to be pushed back. Collect payments. At the end of the meeting, Jenny called me over. “Amy, email me the final CareCore sign-off report before you log off today.” “I can’t generate the final sign-off report yet,” I said. She frowned. “Why not?” “Because the client still has twelve critical bugs that haven’t been resolved, and the developers have two pending milestones. Signing off now would expose us to severe legal and financial liabilities.” Jenny let out a soft laugh. “Amy, you are far too cautious.” “No wonder Mr. Bennett said you are great at execution but lack the vision of a leader.” I stared at her. “Mr. Bennett said that?” Realizing she had let something slip, she quickly looked away. “My point is, the company needs results now.” I nodded slowly. “Then I will document these outstanding issues in the transition ledger.” Jenny’s tone turned frosty. “Amy, there’s no need to make everything sound so catastrophic. Every project has risks.” I closed my laptop. “Which is exactly why they need to be documented.” She stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly laughed. “Fine. Document them. I’ll sign.” “After all, I’m the manager now. The credit for closing this project will be mine anyway.” Her face was flush with ambition. I smiled. “Great. Just make sure you sign.” 3 The transition ledger I compiled was seventeen pages long. I wasn’t trying to make things difficult for Jenny. The CareCore project was simply a nightmare. The client had originally contracted us for a basic healthcare management portal. But over the months, they had demanded add-ons: a nursing module, a family portal, a real-time data dashboard, and integrations with three separate municipal hospitals. The project scope had changed over twenty times. Yet we had only signed two contract amendments. The development team had been replaced twice, and the budget had ballooned from eight million to thirteen million. To make matters worse, the client had only paid sixty percent of the contract value. The remaining forty percent was contingent on final sign-off. But we were nowhere near ready for final sign-off. The nursing module crashed constantly. The family portal had massive message delivery delays. The data dashboard failed to sync three major metrics in real time. And the worst part was the hospital integration: one of the three hospitals hadn’t even begun testing. I had flagged these issues in my weekly reports, but Mr. Bennett’s response was always the same: Push for sign-off first, we can patch the bugs later. Push. Patch. Later. This was how corporate disasters were made, hidden beneath layers of optimistic terminology. I had originally planned to use my promotion to freeze the sign-off process, audit the project, lay out the unresolved issues to the board, and get a realistic timeline. It would have been slow, but it would have saved the company from a massive lawsuit. But now, that responsibility belonged to Jenny. Let her handle it. At three in the afternoon, I printed the transition ledger. Jenny was in her new office, taking photos. She had her appointment letter displayed on the desk next to a cup of artisanal coffee and a vase of fresh lilies. On her phone screen, I could see her editing an Instagram post: Hard work always finds its way to the light. I knocked on the glass partition. Seeing the thick folder in my hand, her smile dimmed slightly. “Amy, did you really have to print out so much?” I placed the folder on her desk. “This is the index of project files, the list of outstanding risks, the client’s pending approvals, the supplier disputes, the financial milestones, and my personal handover statement.” Jenny flipped through a few pages, her scowl deepening. “Why did you write all this?” “It’s a handover.” “I know what a handover is,” she said, her voice sharp with impatience. “I’m asking why you made every little issue sound like a crisis.” “Because they are crises,” I said simply. She slammed the folder onto her desk. “Amy, what is your problem?” She had finally dropped the “sisterly” act. I looked at her calmly. “I don’t have a problem. You are the new manager; you need to be aware of these details.” Jenny sneered. “You’re just bitter.” Her voice was loud enough to carry through the glass. Several heads turned on the open floor. She stood up, her eyes flashing. “Amy, I know you think I stole this from you. But this was the company’s decision, not mine. Writing this list of fake disasters—are you trying to make it look like I inherited a sinking ship?” The office went dead silent. I looked at her. “So you admit it’s a sinking ship?” Her face froze. “I never said that,” I added quietly. “You did.” At a nearby desk, someone cleared their throat to hide a laugh. Jenny’s face turned scarlet. She raised her voice further. “Stop playing word games with me! You just want me to sign this so you can wash your hands of any future issues, don’t you?” I nodded. “Yes.” The silence in the office deepened. Jenny clearly hadn’t expected me to be so blunt. “A handover is meant to define boundaries of responsibility,” I explained. “You took the promotion, which means you took the projects, the assets, the risks, and the liabilities. This isn’t a trap, Jenny. It’s standard corporate protocol.” Jenny’s chest heaved with anger. Just then, Mr. Bennett walked onto the floor. “What is all the noise about?” Jenny immediately adopted a wounded expression. “Mr. Bennett, Amy gave me a transition ledger full of exaggerated issues. She’s refusing to cooperate with my transition.” Mr. Bennett picked up the folder, flipped through a few pages, and frowned. “Amy, why did you make this so detailed?” “The CareCore project is up for final sign-off next month,” I replied. “If we don’t document the risks now, no one will be able to trace the liability later.” Mr. Bennett closed the folder with a snap. “I am aware of these issues. No project is perfect, Amy. You’re pregnant now; you shouldn’t be worrying about these things.” He turned to Jenny. “Jenny, push forward with confidence. The company needs results.” Jenny nodded eagerly. “Don’t worry, Mr. Bennett. I won’t let this project gather dust like some people did.” Mr. Bennett smiled warmly at her. I watched their little performance without saying another word. I simply slipped another document onto her desk. “Then please sign this confirmation sheet.” She glanced at the header: Operations Department Two: Project and Asset Handover Confirmation. Beneath it was a line of fine print: Including historical data for CareCore, outstanding issues, pending client approvals, supplier disputes, and financial milestones. Jenny bit her lip. Mr. Bennett prompted her from the side. “Go ahead and sign, Jenny. Let’s get to work.” She grabbed a pen and scrawled her name. I looked down at her signature. Jenny. It was a beautiful signature. Very neat, and very rushed.

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On the night of our wedding anniversary, my husband burst through the front door covered in blood, dropping to his knees and weeping uncontrollably. “Maria, you have to save me! I borrowed from loan sharks, and if I don’t pay them a million dollars tonight, they are going to chop off my hand!” His mother followed right behind him. She pressed a kitchen knife against her own throat, trying to force me to sell the premium brownstone my late parents had left me. “Maria, he is your husband! We can always buy another house, but if he dies, you’ll have nothing!” Watching this mother and son duo deliver their Oscar worthy performances, a genuine laugh escaped my lips. “I will sell the house. But I have one condition.” “What condition?” “I want to sit here and watch them chop off one of his fingers first, just to verify these loan sharks are actually real.” 1 It was eleven o’clock at night. The frantic, violent twisting of the deadbolt shattered the dead silence of the house. Wesley stumbled through the doorway, reeking of copper and sweat. Before I could even stand up from the sofa, he dropped heavily to his knees right in the foyer. A thick, nauseating smell of blood instantly filled the air. His crisp white dress shirt was dyed a horrifying crimson. His face was covered in dark purple bruises, and his left arm hung at a sickening, unnatural angle. “Maria, save me… you have to save me!” He bawled, snot and tears streaming down his bruised face. With a violently trembling hand, he pulled a crumpled sheet of paper from his pocket and slapped it onto the hardwood floor. It was an IOU. Amount: One million dollars. Borrower: Wesley. Right at the bottom was a stark, bloody thumbprint. I remained seated on the velvet sofa, the novel in my hands still open. My eyes coldly swept over the crumpled paper, and then slowly trailed up to his pathetic face. “One million dollars. What exactly did you spend it on?” Wesley completely froze. He clearly hadn’t expected my first reaction to be a calm interrogation instead of screaming or rushing to bandage his wounds. A second later, he wailed even louder. “I… I just wanted to buy us a bigger estate! I invested in crypto with a buddy, and the entire market tanked. We got completely wiped out!” “Maria, they are underground loan sharks! The interest compounded daily until it hit a million!” “The boss made it perfectly clear. If he doesn’t see the cash by midnight, he is taking my life! He’s going to chop off my hands!” As he screamed, he crawled across the floor like a desperate dog and threw his arms around my calves. The blood from his expensive tailored trousers instantly smeared all over my silk pajamas. “Baby, I know you can fix this! That brownstone your parents left you in the Upper East Side is worth exactly a million on the market right now. Sell it, please. I am begging you!” Ah. So that was the endgame. I didn’t move a muscle. I just looked down at him, a cold, mocking smirk tugging at the corners of my mouth. “Wesley, did you somehow forget? That house is the only piece of my parents I have left. It is strictly my pre-marital property.” Wesley stiffened. A flash of raw resentment and disbelief crossed his eyes, but he quickly buried it under a mask of pure panic. “Maria, how can you draw lines between what’s yours and what’s mine at a time like this?” “I am your husband! Are you seriously going to sit there and watch me get murdered?” “How can you be so utterly heartless? What is more important, money or my life?!” His voice cracked into a hysterical shriek, his spit landing on my plush slippers. I pulled my leg away in absolute disgust, stood up, and looked down at him from above. “Life is obviously more important.” “But Wesley, what makes you think your life is worth a million dollars?” “What did you just say?” Wesley’s eyes bulged as if he were staring at a complete stranger. The old Maria was a soft, submissive pushover who catered to his every whim. The old Maria would have cried for an hour if he so much as got a paper cut. But right now, faced with her blood-soaked husband, I was treating him like a bad investment. “I said, you aren’t worth it.” I bent down, picked up the bloody IOU by the corner, and flicked the paper with my fingernail. “A crypto investment?” “As far as I know, you don’t even know how to open a basic brokerage account. What’s the name of this so called buddy? What is his phone number? I am going to call him right now and verify this.” 2 Wesley’s eyes darted around the room in a blind panic. He stammered frantically. “He… he’s a guy from the underground. You can’t just call him!” “Baby, please stop asking questions and just go get the property deed! I already contacted a realtor. They found a cash buyer who is willing to close tonight! The offer is a little below market value, but it will save my life!” He already had a realtor and a buyer lined up. Whoever wrote this script for him was incredibly thorough. Right at that moment, the door to the guest bedroom violently slammed open. Martha, my mother-in-law, charged out with her hair wildly disheveled. In her right hand, she gripped a sharp paring knife. “Maria, you venomous, cold blooded witch!” She shrieked, pressing the tip of the blade directly against her own throat. Her eyes were completely manic. “My son is bleeding out on the floor, and you’re worried about a stupid piece of real estate?! Are you trying to force the two of us into early graves?!” “Let me make this crystal clear. If you don’t hand over that deed right now to save my boy, I will slit my throat right in front of you! I’ll make sure the whole world knows you drove your own mother-in-law to suicide!” Wesley immediately played his part, screaming in terror. “Mom, don’t do it! Put the knife down! Maria doesn’t mean it!” “She means every word! All she cares about is her dirty money! She wants you dead!” Martha pressed the blade slightly deeper into her skin. It didn’t draw blood, but the theatrical display was certainly intimidating. If this were the old me, I would have been scared out of my mind. I would have sprinted to the safe and handed over the deed without a second thought. Unfortunately for them, they were entirely out of the loop. Just last night, I had placed a GPS tracker under Wesley’s luxury sedan. He hadn’t been anywhere near an underground casino or an investment firm. He had spent the entire evening at The Plaza Hotel, rolling around in the sheets with his college sweetheart, Mindy. I watched this beautifully choreographed performance of maternal sacrifice and undying marital love, feeling nothing but a deep sense of absurdity. “Mom, hold the knife steady. Don’t let your hand shake.” My voice was so eerily calm that it practically froze the air in the living room. Martha froze completely. The knife was still pressed against her neck, but she didn’t know whether to push deeper or pull away. “What… what did you just say?” “I said, if you really want to kill yourself, I am not going to stop you.” “But you should know that if you bleed out in my living room, this place officially becomes a stigmatized murder house. The property value will plummet, which means we won’t get enough money. Wesley will just die a little faster.” I calmly walked over to the water dispenser, poured myself a glass of iced water, and took a slow sip to soothe my throat. “Maria! Are you even human?!” Wesley leaped up from the floor. He completely forgot he was supposed to be a crippled victim, pointing a furious finger right at my nose. “My mother is about to end her life, and you’re making sarcastic jokes?! Do you want me to kill myself right now to prove it?!” “Sure.” I set my glass down, looked him dead in the eye, and took a slow step toward him. “Then kill yourself right now.” “Didn’t you say the loan sharks were going to chop off your hand?” “If you’re going to die anyway, what’s a few missing fingers?” I turned my back on them and walked straight into the kitchen. Wesley and Martha exchanged terrified, bewildered glances, having absolutely no idea what I was doing. A few seconds later, I walked back out, holding a heavy, razor sharp meat cleaver. The polished steel gleamed under the living room lights. “Ah! What are you doing?!” Martha shrieked, dropping the paring knife onto the floor with a loud clatter. Wesley stumbled backward in pure terror until his back slammed against the wall. “Maria… baby… put that down… don’t do anything crazy…” “I am not doing anything crazy.” I slammed the heavy cleaver down onto the glass coffee table. The impact rattled the teacups. “Since those men want your hand, I might as well do it for them. It’s much safer.” “I am your wife. It is my legal and moral obligation to help you.” I smiled sweetly at Wesley’s chalk white face. “Chop it off, and I will personally deliver it to them in a cooler. We settle the debt, you keep your life, and we save a million dollars. It’s a phenomenal return on investment.” Wesley stared at the massive blade. His Adam’s apple bobbed violently. Cold sweat mixed with the fake blood on his face, making him look utterly pathetic. “Maria… have you lost your damn mind?” “I am your husband! You want to mutilate me?!” “I don’t want to mutilate you. You just need to pay your debts.” I crossed my arms over my chest, watching him squirm with absolute amusement. “What’s wrong? You don’t have the guts?” “Or… is it possible that there are no loan sharks at all? And nobody is actually trying to chop off your hand?” Panic flared in his eyes. He immediately scrambled to defend his lie. “Of course there are! It’s real! Baby, stop messing around and go get the deed! The buyer is literally waiting downstairs in the lobby right now!” “Downstairs?” I caught the slip up instantly. “The big bad loan shark boss personally came to our lobby to collect a property deed? Wow, their customer service is incredible.” Wesley realized his mistake and desperately tried to cover his tracks. “No… it’s the realtor! The cash buyer is waiting down there! The second they verify the deed, they wire the million dollars!” “Oh, a cash buyer.” I nodded slowly, acting as if he had finally convinced me. 3 “Since they are already here, have them come up.” “What?” Wesley blinked in confusion. “I said, tell the buyer to come up.” “It’s a million dollar transaction. I need to look them in the eye. What if they’re a scam artist?” I glanced at the antique grandfather clock. “It is eleven thirty. We have exactly thirty minutes until your midnight deadline.” “Have them come up, sign the contracts, initiate the wire transfer, and hand over the deed. Simple.” Wesley clearly hadn’t anticipated this curveball. His eyes darted nervously toward the front door. “That… it’s the middle of the night. It’s totally inappropriate to invite a stranger up…” “What exactly is inappropriate? Is it more inappropriate than getting your hand severed with a machete?” My face hardened, and my tone dropped to a freezing command. “Wesley, you either invite them up right now, or I am calling the police to have a detective look into this phantom loan shark operation.” Hearing the word “police”, Martha started wailing all over again. “You can’t call the cops! If you call the cops, Wesley’s reputation will be ruined! How is he supposed to show his face at work?!” Wesley looked completely horrified. He gritted his teeth and nodded. “Fine. I’ll tell them to come up. Just go get the deed, Maria. Don’t keep them waiting!” He pulled out his phone and turned his back to me, furiously typing out a text message. I watched his back, my eyes colder than ice. Since you want to put on a show, Wesley, I will gladly play along until the curtain drops. I just hoped the “buyer” coming up the elevator was ready for their cue. Ten minutes later, the doorbell chimed. Wesley bolted toward the door like a startled rabbit and yanked it open. A man in a dark trench coat walked in, his face hidden behind a surgical mask and sunglasses. Trailing right behind him was a woman. The woman pulled down her mask, revealing a flawlessly contoured, beautiful face. Mindy. I knew it. Wesley’s beloved college sweetheart. The woman who had him so utterly mesmerized that he was willing to orchestrate an elaborate, violent fraud just to steal my inheritance. “Mr. Wesley, is the property deed ready?” Mindy asked, putting on a sickeningly professional tone. Wesley bowed repeatedly, playing the desperate victim to perfection. “It’s ready! Everything is ready! Maria, bring out the folder!” I stayed seated on the sofa. My gaze slowly swept over Mindy from head to toe. “And who might you be?” “I am the proxy attorney representing the buyer. My name is Mindy.” She pulled a sleek business card from her designer handbag and handed it to me. “Mrs. Maria, time is of the essence. We should proceed with the signatures immediately.” “An attorney?” I took the card, glanced at it, and let out a soft chuckle. “This season’s latest Chanel tweed jacket, paired with a custom Hermes Birkin. Practicing law must be incredibly lucrative for you, Miss Mindy.” Mindy’s expression cracked for a split second, but she quickly recovered her icy composure. “My wardrobe is a private matter. Let’s not deflect from the crisis at hand.” “I was informed that your husband needs immediate liquid capital to save his life. My client is only taking this property off your hands as a personal favor. If you miss this window, he dies.” “She’s right, Maria! Please hurry!” Wesley was sweating bullets, reaching out to pull me off the sofa. I slapped his hand away and slowly pulled a thick red, leather bound folder from the drawer beneath the coffee table. The second that folder appeared, all the air was sucked out of the room. Wesley’s eyes burned with rabid greed. Martha audibly swallowed her saliva. Mindy even took an involuntary step forward, her manicured fingers twitching. “Here is the deed.” I placed the heavy red folder onto the glass table and rested my palm flat against it. “But before I hand this over, I have one question for our esteemed attorney.” Mindy stared at the folder, clearly losing her patience. “What is your question?” “You claimed to be representing a cash buyer. So tell me, do you actually have one million dollars in liquid funds on you right now?” “Of course.” Mindy reached into her Birkin and pulled out a slip of paper. “This is a certified cashier’s check for exactly one million dollars. The moment you sign the transfer, it clears.” I took one glance at the check. It was a blatant, pathetic forgery. A cheap movie prop that could only fool an absolute idiot. Or, more accurately, Wesley knew perfectly well it was fake. He just needed to trick me into signing the transfer so he could put the house in Mindy’s name and leave me with nothing. “Perfect. Let’s do this.” I nodded, picking up the heavy red folder and extending my hand toward him. Just as Wesley’s greedy fingers were about to brush the leather cover, I violently flipped my wrist and smashed the heavy book directly into his face. Smack! The sharp, brutal sound echoed through the living room. Wesley staggered backward, clutching his bleeding nose, staring at me in total shock. “Maria! What the hell is wrong with you?!” “What’s wrong with me?” I stood up, pointing a furious finger down at the red book on the floor. “Open your damn eyes and look at what you’re actually trying to steal!” Wesley scrambled to his knees, picking up the book with shaking hands. He flipped the cover open, and all the blood instantly drained from his face. It wasn’t a property deed. It was a copy of the State Penal Code.

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1 “Hand the account over to her? Why? Just because she’s your little protégé?” I pushed the heavy glass door of the director’s office wide open. Richard slammed his palm against the mahogany desk. “Riley, watch your tone. I decide who gets what around here. Play nice and we all win. Otherwise, I have a dozen ways to make your life a living hell.” “I’ve been working this deal for six months. We are literally days away from signing.” I stared him down. “Company resources belong to the company. It doesn’t matter whose name is on the paperwork.” He leaned back in his leather chair, relaxing his posture. “Look at the bigger picture. It’s for the good of the firm.” I watched his smug, entitled expression for a long moment. Then, I nodded. A sharp laugh escaped my lips. “You know what? You’re absolutely right. I really should start thinking about what is best for this company.” Walking out of his office, the smile vanished from my face. As I sat back at my cubicle, a loud, exaggerated gasp echoed across the floor. “Oh my gosh, I feel so guilty about this!” Lexi strutted to the center of the bullpen. She was wearing a designer skirt that was two sizes too small, hugging a stack of file folders to her chest. She deliberately raised her voice so the entire floor could hear. “Riley! I heard you transferred that massive account over to me?” “That’s a ten million dollar deal.” “Thank you so much for doing all the grunt work. I promise I’ll cherish it.” “I definitely won’t let your blood, sweat, and tears go to waste.” Her eyes sparkled with blatant provocation. The corner of her mouth twitched upward. The clacking of keyboards stopped. A few coworkers threw sympathetic glances my way before quickly burying their faces back in their monitors. I kept organizing the paperwork on my desk, not even bothering to look up. “Don’t thank me. Richard said our new hires need some encouragement. Whether you can actually close the deal is entirely up to you.” Lexi’s fake smile froze. Richard walked out of his glass office, clapping his hands. “Alright everyone, wrap up what you’re doing. Quick huddle.” His eyes swept across the room before landing squarely on me. “I have an announcement. To finish the year strong and optimize our resources, we are focusing on developing our junior talent.” “Riley has voluntarily handed the Apex Corporation project over to Lexi.” “I want all of you to learn from Riley. This is the kind of team-player mentality our veteran staff should have!” “Let’s get a round of applause!” A scattering of hesitant, pathetic claps filled the room. I raised my hands and clapped twice. After the meeting, Lexi dropped an iced caramel macchiato on my desk. The condensation immediately started pooling on my notes. “Drink up, Riley. Richard told me to come get the Apex files from you.” “I need everything. Victoria’s personal preferences, her pet peeves, and all your notes from the previous negotiation rounds.” She held out her perfectly manicured hand. I watched the puddle of water soak into the edge of my paper. “The official documents are all in the shared cloud drive. Download them yourself.” “Come on, Riley. The cloud drive just has the boring legal stuff.” Lexi leaned in, dropping her voice to a vicious whisper. “My godfather said that if this deal falls through, he’s holding you personally responsible. You wouldn’t want him thinking you’re hiding the good stuff from me, right?” I let out a cold chuckle. I created a new digital folder, zipped up a specific set of files I had prepared, and hit send. “It’s in your inbox. Read it carefully. It would be a shame if you couldn’t even figure out what kind of coffee Victoria likes.” Lexi smirked, hugged her laptop, and pranced away. Right before clocking out, Richard cornered me in the breakroom. He kicked the door shut, his face turning grim. “Riley, I know you’re pissed.” “When this deal closes, you’ll still get a small cut of the bonus pool. But if you dare pull any petty stunts behind my back or try to sabotage Lexi…” “I will personally make sure you never work in this industry again.” He jabbed his finger an inch from my face. I offered him a slight, submissive bow. “You’re overthinking this, Richard. I wouldn’t dare. I have rent to pay. I’ll cooperate with Lexi one hundred percent.” Richard snorted and waved me off. “Good. Get out of here. Glad you know your place.” Stepping out of the corporate tower, the biting winter wind whipped across my face. I pulled out my phone and opened the chat with a contact saved simply as “The Queen.” “Mom, we need to talk.” A reply popped up almost instantly. “What’s wrong, sweetie?” I typed out a quick response, locked my screen, and smiled against the cold. 2 For the next few days, the office was a circus. Lexi sat at her desk, staring at the files with a deep scowl. The usually quiet department group chat was constantly blowing up with her notifications. “@Riley, what does this ‘exclusivity clause’ mean in section four?” “Victoria’s legal team is asking if we can strike it. What do I say?” “@Riley, how does the sliding scale commission work on this spreadsheet? The system keeps giving me an error!” “@Riley, help! Victoria’s assistant is asking for Plan B from the last proposal. Where is it?” I stared at my screen, deliberately waiting until Richard chimed in to scold me before taking my sweet time to type back. “The exclusivity clause is standard industry practice. Tell legal to hold their ground.” “The sliding scale uses the formula at the bottom. Plug the numbers in yourself.” “Plan B is in the archived folder. Keep looking.” Lexi followed my advice and tried to play hardball with the client. She got shut down immediately. That afternoon, the tension in the office was suffocating. Lexi slammed her mouse onto her desk, her eyes red, and stormed into Richard’s office. Less than five minutes later, Richard’s roar bled through the frosted glass. “Riley! Get in here right now!” I picked up my thermos and casually strolled in. Richard was pounding his fist on the desk. “Are you trying to get fired, Riley?” “Lexi said she called Victoria over a dozen times today and got sent straight to voicemail. Did you give her a fake number?” “Are you trying to sabotage a ten million dollar contract?!” Lexi sat in the corner chair, pointing a manicured finger at me. “She’s doing this on purpose, Richard! She must have talked trash about me to Victoria. Why else would the client ignore my calls?” “You can’t play games with the company’s money, Riley!” I blinked, looking completely innocent. “I’m deeply offended you’d think that, Richard. The number is right there in the directory. Why would I fake it?” “Victoria runs a massive corporation. Maybe she’s just busy and hasn’t checked her phone.” “Bullshit!” Richard threw a binder across the room. It crashed to the floor. “Busy enough to ignore my lead manager all day? You’re going to call her right now. On speaker.” “If she doesn’t pick up, you can pack your desk.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Sure. Let’s try.” I dialed the number and hit the speaker button. It rang twice. Then, a sharp click. An icy, authoritative woman’s voice filled the room. “Hello?” Lexi froze. Richard stopped breathing. I cleared my throat, keeping my tone perfectly professional and warm. “Hi Victoria, it’s Riley. I am so sorry to interrupt your afternoon. Our new manager, Lexi, mentioned she couldn’t get ahold of you.” “We just wanted to make sure the signing schedule was still on track…” Silence hung heavy on the other end. Then, a cold, mocking scoff. “Lexi? Who the hell is Lexi? I don’t know a Lexi. Some girl kept sending me unprofessional emojis and begging for a meeting all morning. I blocked the number.” “Riley, I have made myself very clear. I only do business with you.” “If your firm keeps sending random nobodies to waste my time, we can take our ten million elsewhere.” Lexi’s face flushed a violent crimson. She stared at the carpet. Richard’s face drained of all color. I quickly jumped in to smooth things over. “Please don’t be angry, Victoria. She’s new and still learning the ropes. We will make sure she gets better training.” “Regarding the signing ceremony…” “Whatever. I’ll let it slide because it’s you, Riley. We’ll handle the details when I see you.” The line went dead. The silence in the office was deafening. I slipped my phone back into my pocket and looked at Richard. “Well, the number works. Maybe Lexi just came on a bit too strong. Victoria hates that kind of unprofessional energy.” Richard glared at Lexi. “You are useless! You can’t even read a client’s basic vibe? Go back to your desk and figure it out!” He turned back to me, massaging his temples. “Since she actually answers your calls, you’ll handle the communication logistics from now on. But Lexi is still the lead on paper, and she signs the contract. That is non negotiable.” I nodded obediently. “Of course. Whatever you say.” Despite her humiliation, Lexi’s ego bounced back the next day. She posted a team photo on her social media, cropped me out completely, and added a shiny filter to her face. The caption read: “Burning the midnight oil for this ten million dollar deal. The grind never stops!” Dozens of people from the company liked it. 3 Lexi’s power trip escalated throughout the week. “Riley, go print this contract. Double sided. Full color.” “Riley, book the executive boardroom for tomorrow. The biggest one. Make sure there are fresh flowers and sparkling water.” “Riley, run down to the corner cafe and get me an artisan pour over. Black.” I swallowed every demand without a single complaint. Lexi lounged in her ergonomic chair, drunk on her own authority. The day before the signing, the sales floor was chaotic. Richard threw a thick binder onto my keyboard. “Riley, this is the minute by minute schedule for tomorrow’s ceremony. I need a full script by five o’clock. Who stands where, who says what. You aren’t leaving until it’s flawless.” I flipped open the binder. “Shouldn’t Lexi be writing this? She’s the lead manager.” Richard gave me a dirty look. “Lexi is busy memorizing the contract clauses. She doesn’t have time for admin work. Just do it. Consider it a privilege that I’m letting you be involved at all.” Lexi sat at the next desk, casually painting her nails. “Yeah Riley, be a team player. If tomorrow falls apart, it’s the company’s reputation on the line.” I took the binder. “Fine. I’ll get it done.” During the lunch hour, Richard pulled me to the far end of the hallway. Cigarette smoke swirled around his face as he gave me a calculating look. “Listen closely. Tomorrow during the ceremony… I want you to stay out of the boardroom.” I raised an eyebrow. “I wrote the script. I managed the client relationship for six months. Now I’m banned from the room?” Richard flicked his ashes onto the carpet. “Know your place, Riley. Lexi has better presentation skills. She looks the part. If you’re standing in there, you’ll just distract from her moment.” “Look at the way you dress. What if you offend Victoria with your cheap suits?” “Your job is to stand out by the elevators and handle the catering. Once the ink is dry, I’ll let you come to the after party.” I looked at his greasy, arrogant face and suddenly smiled. “Are you absolutely sure you don’t need me in the room to manage the client? Victoria has a notorious temper. If something unexpected happens…” “Shut up.” Richard cut me off. “What could possibly happen? Just stay out of sight. Learn to have some class, understand?” I nodded slowly. “Class. Got it. I’ll be waiting by the door.” When I walked back to my desk, Lexi was holding a dress against her body. It was a tacky white cocktail dress with a ridiculous lace train. “How does it look, Riley? This is my power outfit for tomorrow.” She twirled around. I glanced at it. “Stunning. You look exactly like a desperate bridesmaid.” Lexi’s smile turned into a snarl. “What do you know about fashion? You’re pathetic.” People from other departments were walking by, whispering and pointing. Richard caught wind of the drama and sent a warning message in the group chat to keep things professional. I ignored the noise and pulled out my phone, texting my mother again. “Mom. Wear the custom black suit tomorrow. Look as terrifying as possible.” Near the end of the day, I got up to grab a glass of water. A steaming cup of coffee came flying right at me. I dodged the worst of it, but dark brown liquid splashed across the cuff of my blouse. “Oh my gosh!” Lexi stood there holding an empty mug, a vicious smirk playing on her lips. “My hand slipped. I am so clumsy today. Sorry about that, Riley.” “But hey, you aren’t allowed to see the client tomorrow anyway, right? It’s fine if your clothes are ruined. You really need a wardrobe upgrade.” I pulled a tissue from the box and dabbed at the stain. Lexi took a step back, suddenly looking nervous at my silence. “What are you staring at? I said I was sorry.” I tossed the stained tissue into the trash can. “It’s totally fine.” I flashed her a bright, blinding smile. “Out with the old, in with the new. Let’s just hope that beautiful white dress of yours can handle the pressure tomorrow.”

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When my wife finally hit a million dollar salary, she stood on the stage of an industry summit and projected my life onto the screen as her ultimate badge of shame. She displayed photos of me wearing a stained apron over a frying pan and kneeling on the bathroom floor scrubbing the toilet. Above them were glaring, bold words: “A Negative Asset Incapable of Growth!” “A Stumbling Block to Progress!” “An Obstacle That Must Be Eliminated on the Road to Success!” In an instant, I became the laughingstock of the entire conference hall. But what she didn’t know was that I was once an algorithm prodigy in the tech world. I simply chose to hide my brilliance and return to the kitchen, all for her sake. Now, I am done playing the devoted husband. I don’t want this family anymore! 1 Victoria was delivering her “My Decade” keynote at the pinnacle of the industry forum. The presentation reached the “Gratitude” slide. Remembering how she told me last night that she would specially thank me today, I secretly wondered if she would show a sweet photo of us together. Instead, the first photo appeared. It was a picture of me wearing an apron, frying fish. Grease splatters stained the fabric, making me look utterly pathetic and unkempt. A wave of snickers rippled from the back rows. Immediately, the second photo popped up. It was a shot of my back as I knelt on one knee, scrubbing the toilet bowl. The angle was viciously chosen, making me look incredibly subservient, like a servant worshipping a porcelain throne. Laughter erupted across the entire hall. And I was sitting right there in the audience, attending as the invited “family representative”. The camera panned over my instantly ashen face. I could clearly hear the whispers of the executives sitting next to me. “Is that Victoria’s deadbeat husband?” “No wonder she’s so successful. She dumped the baggage and traveled light.” “You have to feel for her, dragging a leech like that around while climbing to the top.” Their voices were loud, deliberately floating into my ears. I froze in my seat, feeling every gaze in the room burning into my face like a spotlight. On stage, Victoria was radiant and full of arrogant confidence, her voice rising and falling with perfect cadence. “During our upward climb in the corporate world, we must learn the art of subtraction. We must immediately identify and purge the burdens that drag down our momentum…” She spent ten agonizing minutes deconstructing my cooking, cleaning, and childcare into corporate case studies. Sunk costs. Opportunity costs. Negative return on assets. Every single corporate buzzword felt like a jagged knife plunging repeatedly into my heart. When her speech ended, the applause was thunderous. Victoria smiled and bowed on stage. Bathed in the spotlight, she practically glowed. Meanwhile, I hunched my shoulders and walked out of the venue, step by agonizing step. Back home, I sat on the living room sofa. I didn’t turn on the lights. I just stared blindly at the dark silhouettes of our furniture. From our wedding day to now, five full years had passed. Victoria said she wanted to sprint toward her career goals. I said okay, I will manage the home. She said she hated doing chores. I said okay, I will do them. She said having a baby would derail her professional timeline. I said okay, I will raise Sophie myself. I thought this was mutual support. I thought this was a partnership. I thought this was what a family was supposed to look like. It wasn’t until today that I finally understood. In her eyes, I was nothing but dead weight. A “negative asset” dragging her down. The sound of the front door unlocking broke the silence. Victoria stumbled inside. She smelled of expensive wine, her cheeks flushed, but her eyes still sparkled with the adrenaline of her success. Flicking on the lights, she frowned the moment she saw me. “Nolan, why are you just sitting there staring into space? Don’t you know I need a glass of honey water to sober up?” I didn’t move an inch. I just stared at her. “Victoria, what exactly am I to you?” She pushed past me with an impatient sigh. “Nolan, what is wrong with you now?” “That presentation today. Those photos. Those words.” I demanded, emphasizing every single syllable. “In your heart, I am nothing but a burden to you, aren’t I?” Victoria turned and leaned against the hallway wall, crossing her arms. I knew that posture intimately. It was the exact stance she took at the negotiation table when dealing with a difficult opponent. “Nolan, today is the biggest day of my career. I am not going to argue with you. Those were just case studies for theatrical effect.” I let out a bitter laugh. “Case studies? You used pictures of your husband scrubbing a toilet for theatrical effect?” “Then what did you expect me to do?!” Victoria raised her voice, her tone sharp. “Put up a sweet selfie of us? And tell a room full of titans that I succeeded because I have a nice stay-at-home husband? Who would buy that garbage?” She walked closer, the smell of alcohol hitting my face. “Nolan, today is the absolute highlight of my professional life. Can you please not ruin my mood?” I looked at her, suddenly feeling like I was staring at a total stranger. This woman, who had shared my bed for five years… I realized I never truly knew her. “So, to you, I am just a negative asset that needs to be purged from your road to success. Is that right?” Victoria fell silent for a few seconds. “So what if you are? What does it matter? Nolan, grow up, will you?” She turned on her heel and walked toward the master bedroom. “I am exhausted. I have a major meeting with investors tomorrow.” The bedroom door clicked shut. I stood up and walked into my dusty study. At the very bottom of the bookshelf sat a cardboard box covered in years of dust. I pulled it out and opened it. Inside were relics of a past life. College programming competition gold medals, yellowed team photos, and an old, bulky black smartphone. Plugging in the charging cable, the screen flickered to life. A text message from five years ago popped up on the display. “Nolan, are you seriously not going to consider coming with us? Name your price. Anything.” Sender: Felix. The current billionaire founder of the tech empire, Abyss Innovations. 2 Five years ago, Felix’s company consisted of exactly five people working out of a cramped residential apartment. He told me we were going to change the world. We were going to build something disruptive. I told him I was getting married. Victoria needed me. Felix pleaded with me. “Nolan, think about this carefully. Opportunities like this only come around once in a lifetime.” I replied without a second of hesitation. “Family only comes around once in a lifetime, too.” He stayed silent for a long time before replying. “Alright. I will always keep a seat warm for you. Whenever you want to come back, the door is open.” Today, his company, Abyss Innovations, was an untouchable industry giant. And I had become the pathetic back scrubbing a toilet on a projector screen. After a brief moment of hesitation, I pressed the call button. It rang exactly once before it was picked up. “Hello?” Felix’s voice came through the speaker, carrying a hint of exhaustion from being interrupted. “It is me. Nolan.” The line went dead silent. A few seconds later, Felix’s voice practically exploded through the receiver, vibrating with sheer, unbelievable excitement. “Nolan? Is that really you?!” “It’s me.” “Bro, you finally woke up!” Felix’s voice fired off like a string of firecrackers. “I kept your equity shares perfectly intact all these years. Where are you right now? Tomorrow, no, tonight, I am sending a car to pick you up. The team is currently hard-stuck on a massive vulnerability in our core security protocol. You called at the absolute perfect time…” He spoke at lightning speed, his familiar, burning passion rushing over me. My eyes grew slightly hot. “Felix, I can’t come over just yet.” I interrupted his rant, my voice slightly hoarse. “Why not?” Felix’s excitement ground to a halt, replaced by deep confusion. “Let me handle some personal matters at home first. But that vulnerability you mentioned, you can send the files over. I will take a look.” “Done!” Felix didn’t pry any further, always a man of decisive action. “Nolan, if you are stepping in, this problem is already half solved!” A few minutes later, the encrypted data transfer was complete. Staring at the dense walls of data and complex architecture diagrams, everything felt completely foreign, yet intimately familiar. Over the next three days, my life appeared exactly the same. I dropped Sophie off at kindergarten, went grocery shopping, cooked dinner, and cleaned the floors. Victoria continued to leave early and return late, entirely consumed by her corporate ambitions. We barely spoke a word to each other. The atmosphere in our home was colder than living with a stranger. The only difference was that every night after my daughter fell asleep, and every spare second between chores, my brain was operating at maximum velocity. Late on the third night, I sent a complete security patch and a meticulously detailed analysis report directly to Felix. Minutes later, my phone lit up. Felix’s voice was pitching upwards in pure hysteria. “Holy shit! Nolan! You are a literal god! Not only did you patch the hole, but you optimized the entire defensive logic loop! The engineering team is practically worshipping your code right now!” Listening to his incoherent, ecstatic praise, the corners of my mouth twitched into a faint smile. Yet, my heart remained strangely calm, as if I had just completed the most basic, trivial task in the world. “Send me your bank details. I am wiring your consulting fee right now.” I hesitated for a moment, but I didn’t refuse. I genuinely needed money right now. Not to prove a point, but to buy back the life I had surrendered. Shortly after, my mobile banking app chimed with a deposit notification: $5,000,000. I froze staring at the screen and immediately called him back. “Felix, this is way too much for a simple vulnerability patch.” “Too much?” Felix yelled into the phone. “Nolan, do you have any idea how many millions we would bleed daily if our competitors exploited that backdoor? Double this amount wouldn’t even cover your true value. I actually feel like I am underpaying you. You have to take this money, or I am going to be seriously pissed off!” Hanging up the phone, I stared at that long string of zeros. For the first time, I truly grasped how pathetic and laughable my so-called “sacrifice” and “support” over the past five years had been. It took Victoria five grueling years of climbing the corporate ladder to secure her million dollar salary. It took me exactly three days, working entirely in the margins of diaper changes and dishwashing, to earn five times her annual income. With the money secured, I began my transformation. First, I walked into the most exclusive boutique in the city and ordered several bespoke, tailored suits. I stepped back into a high-end gym, hired a private trainer, and resurrected the physique I had neglected for years. I also bought a watch. A subtle, understated piece that only people with true wealth and taste could recognize. When I walked into the living room completely reinvented, Victoria visibly froze. She looked me up and down, her gaze lingering on the metal around my wrist before her lips curled into a mocking sneer. “Nolan, since when did you learn to play dress-up? Wearing a fake designer watch out in public, aren’t you afraid of humiliating yourself? What is this, a midlife crisis? Is this how you desperately search for validation?” Her words were like icy needles, but they could no longer pierce the psychological armor I had built. However, the final, fatal stab came without warning. That evening, I had taken Sophie to the playground and stayed out a bit late. As we walked back to our apartment building, I spotted a sleek Mercedes Maybach idling near the entrance. Victoria stepped out of the passenger side. A distinguished, middle-aged man stepped out from the driver’s side. The man casually reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Victoria’s ear. Then, the two of them embraced. It was a fluid, deeply intimate motion that was absolutely not their first time. The man got back into the luxury car and drove off. Victoria turned around, a lingering, sweet smile painted on her face, until she saw me standing quietly in the shadows a few yards away. A flash of panic crossed her features, but it was instantly buried under a mask of arrogant justification. “My company is fighting for a massive contract. The total value is over a billion dollars. That was Preston, the executive holding the keys to the final bidding process. In the business world, you sometimes have to put on a show and play the game.” I didn’t say a single word to her. I just stared at the empty road where the Maybach had disappeared. In that exact moment, the final, lingering shred of hesitation in my heart was permanently extinguished. Since that is how you want to play it, Victoria, I will use my true power to show you exactly what it is you abandoned and trampled on. The man you saw as a “negative asset” scrubbing your toilets is going to become the one insurmountable mountain standing between you and your precious billionaire contract. 3 I pulled out my phone and sent Felix a text. “Pull up everything you have on NovaTech Solutions. I need the details of their biggest upcoming bidding project and the exact technical bottlenecks they are currently facing.” NovaTech was Victoria’s employer, a publicly traded electronics manufacturing heavyweight. Two hours later, Felix sent over a meticulously detailed dossier. The report revealed that despite its glossy exterior, NovaTech was suffocating. As a legacy electronics manufacturer, their revenue and net profits had taken a severe nosedive over the past year, and their stock price was bleeding out. They desperately needed a massive adrenaline shot to restore market confidence and stabilize the board of directors. And the billion dollar smart IoT terminal project from Omni Group was the absolute perfect lifeline. It wasn’t just about the massive profit margins. NovaTech wanted to use this project to lock down a permanent, long-term partnership with a corporate titan like Omni Group. The core requirement of the bid was to design an intelligent systems management protocol that could deeply integrate with Omni Group’s complex standards while maintaining flawless quality control. NovaTech’s engineering teams had been working around the clock, churning out several mature proposals, but they continually failed to perfectly resolve the integration issues. However, there was another player aggressively eyeing the Omni Group contract. Vanguard Tech. They were a slightly smaller firm, but they were notorious for their ruthless innovation. Yet, the technical hurdles that NovaTech couldn’t solve were proving to be an absolute brick wall for Vanguard Tech as well. Closing the dossier, I leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes. Since NovaTech and Victoria were pushing all their chips onto the table for this project, I was going to strike them at their most vulnerable technical artery. With a clear plan in mind, I contacted Felix again and asked him to set up a meeting with Allan, the CEO of Vanguard Tech. Felix’s efficiency was terrifying. By the very next afternoon, I was sitting in a highly secure private booth at an exclusive club, staring directly at Allan. I bypassed the pleasantries entirely. I slid a heavily encrypted tablet across the table, displaying a custom technical blueprint specifically designed for the Omni Group project. Allan was an engineer at his core. He instantly recognized the sheer magnitude of what he was looking at. As he read, his initial skepticism melted into rigid focus, and finally, his eyes practically exploded with shock. “Mr. Nolan, this… using this architecture, we wouldn’t just solve the compatibility nightmare. We would increase their total operational efficiency by twenty percent! How on earth did you draft this in such a short window?” I looked at him with a deadpan expression. “How I drafted it is irrelevant. The only thing that matters is whether this blueprint will win you the Omni Group contract.” “It will! Absolutely!” Allan blurted out, staring at me with burning intensity. “Mr. Nolan, I am officially begging you to join Vanguard. The Chief Technology Officer position is yours. Ten million dollar base salary, plus aggressive stock options!” Faced with an offer that would make anyone else drop to their knees, I simply shook my head. “I appreciate the generous offer, Allan. But I have no intention of joining your executive board. However, I am willing to serve as a special technical consultant for this specific project. I will personally guide your engineering team to execute this blueprint.” “I only have one non-negotiable condition. My identity must remain absolutely classified until the dust settles on the bidding floor.” Allan nodded vigorously. “Done! I will draft the NDA myself. Having you in our corner is the greatest stroke of luck Vanguard has ever had.” The day of the bidding conference arrived. I walked into the grand auditorium and took a seat in an inconspicuous corner in the back row. Victoria, acting as the lead presenter for NovaTech, walked on stage wearing a razor-sharp white blazer. Her makeup was flawless, and her aura was suffocatingly confident. Standing at the podium, she clicked through a beautifully polished presentation, explaining NovaTech’s solution. Her delivery was liquid smooth, backed by dense statistics and an incredibly persuasive tone. She successfully earned subtle, approving nods from several judges and the Omni Group executives. Everything seemed to be perfectly aligning with her grand ambitions. Until the Q&A segment began. Allan, representing Vanguard Tech, raised his hand. He took the microphone, skipped the corporate kissing up, and aimed a laser-focused question directly at a technical detail in Victoria’s proposal. “Victoria, regarding your high-concurrency data flow model. While it theoretically patches the compatibility flaw, it introduces a severe latency risk that could drastically compromise the product yield on Omni Group’s assembly lines.” The question was viciously professional and lethal. The color instantly drained from Victoria’s face, but she quickly masked her panic with a bright, professional smile. Adjusting her earpiece, she answered smoothly. “Thank you for your concern, Allan. Our engineering team actually anticipated this exact risk variable. We integrated a three-tier dynamic failsafe mechanism to mitigate it. Based on current industry limitations, this is unequivocally the most optimal solution available.” Victoria’s reaction time was incredibly fast, instantly wrestling the narrative back in her favor. But Allan just smiled. A cold, predatory smile. “The optimal solution? I highly doubt that. Ladies and gentlemen of the board, Vanguard Tech has conducted an exhaustive analysis of your infrastructure. We have developed a revolutionary architecture that not only perfectly eliminates the compatibility bottleneck, but elevates the system’s total energy efficiency by over twenty percent.” “As for the exact mechanics, I would like to invite our special technical consultant to the stage to demonstrate it for you live.” A wave of hushed whispers swept through the auditorium. Victoria’s brow furrowed. A flicker of anxiety flashed in her eyes, but it was mostly buried by sheer arrogance. She didn’t believe for a second that Vanguard could produce a flawless solution. And she definitely didn’t believe some random “technical consultant” could explain such a mind-bendingly complex issue live on stage. Under the glare of the spotlights, I slowly stood up. I casually adjusted the lapels of my tailored suit, and walked down the center aisle toward the stage, feeling the weight of hundreds of shocked and curious stares burning into my back.

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Three days after my death, William received the call to identify my body. He casually tightened his arm around the woman sitting in his lap and spoke into the phone. “If she is dead, she is dead. Cremate her and call me when it is done.” My body was pushed into the roaring incinerator. Once I was reduced to nothing but bone and ash, the crematorium staff called him again. He clicked his tongue in deep annoyance. “I got it. I am on my way.” 1 By the time William Schmidt finally arrived, two hours had already passed. His dress shirt was wrinkled, and a glaring red lipstick stain marked his collar. It was incredibly obvious that he had just rolled out of someone else’s bed. He found the staff member and sneered. “Where are Nora’s ashes? Didn’t you call me here to pick them up?” Once the worker confirmed his identity, he carefully handed over the wooden urn containing my remains. William took it with careless hands, his eyes swirling with pure mockery. “Are these really Nora’s ashes? You didn’t just sweep up some random roadkill to mess with me, did you?” The worker looked horrified. “Mr. Schmidt, these are absolutely the young lady’s remains. We have the official logs. Would you like to see the paperwork?” William let out a dark chuckle. “No need. I believe you.” I breathed a sigh of relief. I had no idea why my body was dead, yet my soul was still lingering around. I had thought about it endlessly, figuring it was simply because my remains hadn’t been properly laid to rest. Now that William believed I was actually dead, I figured he would at least toss me in a grave somewhere. Even if he hated my guts, surely he would do it just for the sake of our past history. But my relief was violently cut short. A second later, William let out a fake, exaggerated gasp. The urn slipped directly through his fingers. My ashes spilled across the dirty tile floor. A cruel, twisted smile stretched across his face. “Oops. My hand slipped.” Saying that, he extended his foot, grinding the expensive leather sole of his shoe directly into my ashes. My phantom breath hitched in my throat. I stared into his mocking, dead eyes. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. It wasn’t until my ashes were completely ground into the cracks of the floor, mixed with the everyday dirt and grime, that William finally pulled his foot back with a satisfied look. Leaving the crematorium worker in absolute shock, William laughed. “Make sure you pass a message on to Nora for me. Tell her this new little trick of hers is creative, but it is a massive failure.” “My mother’s death anniversary is in a few days. She better drag herself to the cemetery and beg for forgiveness. Otherwise, even if she really is dead, I have no problem digging up her corpse and whipping it to pieces.” His final words dripped with a freezing venom that would make anyone’s blood run cold. And I knew he was entirely capable of doing exactly that. Suddenly, I felt a wave of twisted gratitude that my body had already been burned. If it hadn’t, the scene at the graveyard would have been utterly gruesome. Before the worker could even argue with him, William’s phone rang. The strange thing was, my soul was forced to follow him. Trapped by some invisible tether, I sat in the passenger seat of his luxury car, listening to him chat with the woman on the other end of the line. I knew that voice perfectly. It was Ivy Schmidt, the adopted daughter of the Schmidt family. Back when William and I were still madly in love, she had come to me privately, demanding that I leave him. When I refused, she made it her mission to destroy me. She spread vile rumors at my workplace and even hired thugs to corner me in alleys. When William found out, he ripped into her. He threatened to kick her out of the family completely if she ever laid a finger on me again. That was the only reason she had finally backed off. Now, just hearing my name made William’s expression turn ice cold. “Why are we talking about her?” he snapped into the phone. “It ruins my mood. It’s not like she is actually dead anyway.” “But what if she really is dead, William? What would you do?” Ivy’s probing voice filtered through the speakers. My phantom heart clenched. I instinctively turned my head to look at him. If this had been the old William, he would have been sick with worry if I even got a papercut. He used to tell me I was his greatest treasure, promising to hold me in the palm of his hand for the rest of his life. But now, William just let out a cold, sharp laugh. “Then I would throw a massive three day party and light up the entire city with fireworks to celebrate.” 2 I stared at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. It was only in this exact moment that I realized just how deeply William Schmidt hated me. He hated me so much that my death was literally a cause for celebration. But William, I really am dead. You just refuse to believe it. The car pulled up in front of an elite bridal boutique. William stepped out, striding toward the entrance with purpose. He looked so eager. It reminded me of the day we had secretly gotten our marriage license, right before he dragged me to a boutique just like this one. Back then, he couldn’t wait to see me in a wedding dress. He had held me so tight, whispering that I was the most beautiful bride in the world. Now, he was looking at Ivy with that exact same tender, loving gaze. She was standing on the pedestal, wrapped in a stunning white gown. He gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, his voice softer than velvet. “You look beautiful.” Ivy lowered her head with a shy smile. When she looked back up, her eyes were shimmering with happy tears. “William, I have waited so long for you.” I watched in absolute horror as Ivy leaned forward and pressed her lips to his cheek. Every instinct in my soul screamed to stop them. I lunged forward, but my hands passed right through William’s solid chest. I could only stand there, entirely helpless, as he slid a massive diamond ring onto her finger. How could he do this? Why Ivy, out of all people? She was the one who murdered his mother! William! I screamed his name, my phantom throat raw and burning with absolute despair. I watched the rest of the fitting in a state of total numbness. Ivy stared at herself in the mirror, practically glowing with excitement. Suddenly, she turned to him. “By the way, William. Is she okay?” We both knew exactly who she was talking about. William’s face went completely blank, laced with a heavy dose of disgust. “What could possibly be wrong with her? It is just another one of her pathetic little games.” “Should we send her an invitation to our wedding?” William lowered his eyelashes, hiding the dark emotions swirling in his eyes. A twisted, malicious smirk slowly crept onto his lips. “Of course we will invite her. She is our guest of honor.” The realization hit me like a freight train. William wanted to force me to watch him get married. After all, a proper wedding was the one thing I had always dreamed of. Because his mother had never approved of me, we only ever signed the legal papers. We never had a ceremony. Over the years, having a real wedding had become my ultimate, unattainable fantasy. And then, his mother died. A massive heart attack that the doctors could not fix. On the night she died, her very last phone call was to me. Because of that, William naturally assumed that I had said something to trigger the attack. He fully believed I had killed her. On the day of her funeral, he dragged me to the cemetery and physically forced me to kneel in front of her gravestone for an entire day and night. The rain was pouring down in sheets. We stared at each other through the freezing downpour. His eyes were dead, filled with an apocalyptic level of hatred. He told me, “From now on, Nora, I will make you wish you were dead.” From that day forward, I went from being the love of his life to his sworn, mortal enemy. He hated me. He humiliated me. But he flat out refused to let me leave him. He even started bringing different women home to spend the night. Whenever he saw my red, tear stained eyes, he would just laugh, lightly slapping my cheek to mock me. “Does it hurt, Nora? You brought every bit of this upon yourself. Who else can you blame?” I tried so hard to explain the truth, but it only made him worse. He never once doubted his own conclusion, because he knew exactly how much his mother despised me. She had sworn up and down that she would never let me officially enter the Schmidt family. William had fought with her constantly over it, nearly severing his ties with his own family just to be with me. But how could a man accept that the woman he loved had murdered the woman who gave birth to him? He couldn’t. After putting Ivy in a cab, William seemed to suddenly remember I existed. He generously pulled my number out of his blocked list. Tapping his fingers against the steering wheel, he dialed my phone. A long minute passed. I watched his relaxed eyebrows slowly pull together into a furious scowl. He slammed his fist against the steering wheel, screaming into the empty car. “You are asking for a death wish, Nora. How dare you ignore my calls!” But he had no idea. It wasn’t that I was ignoring him. It was that I could never pick up a phone again. 3 Half a month later, William finally returned to the house we used to share. He violently kicked the front door open, his voice echoing through the empty halls. “Nora! Get your ass out here right now!” He kicked open door after door, but he never found my shadow. His already grim expression turned pitch black. He barked orders at his security team to track me down, his voice dripping with lethal intent. “If she wants to run, she better run to the ends of the earth. Because the second I catch her, I am breaking both of her legs.” Yet, the woman whose legs he wanted to break was floating right in front of his face. A few minutes later, his subordinates sent him a GPS pin. William’s face morphed into something truly terrifying. I glanced over at his phone screen and realized the pin was locked onto Frank’s house. “Boss, the Madam’s last phone call was to Mr. Frank. But Mr. Frank claims he hasn’t seen her. We suspect he is hiding her.” William’s voice dropped to a deadly whisper. “Wait for me.” He drove like a maniac, speeding all the way to Frank’s front door. With a dark, murderous glare, he started kicking the heavy oak door. One kick. Two kicks. On the third kick, the door swung open. Frank stood there looking completely dead inside. Deep, dark bags hung heavily beneath his eyes. “Can I help you?” William sneered. “You are hiding my wife in your house, and you have the nerve to ask if you can help me?” Frank’s face remained entirely blank, like a man who had lost his final reason to live. “I am not hiding her. She is dead. Didn’t the crematorium call you to come pick up her ashes?” “She actually got you to play along with this pathetic script? Wow. It seems she is really desperate to hide from me this time.” William still didn’t believe I was dead. He stubbornly clung to the idea that this was just another elaborate game. He tilted his head back, screaming into the depths of the house. “Nora! Do not think for a second that Frank can protect you from my mother’s death anniversary! I am counting to three. If you do not walk out here right now, I will tear this place apart.” Three. Two. One. The second the countdown finished, William brutally kicked Frank in the stomach and ordered his men to tear the house apart. Frank fell hard against the floor. A flicker of raw rage finally broke through his dead expression. “William! She is dead! You went to the crematorium and claimed her ashes yourself! Did you already forget?!” “She is dead. She has been dead for weeks!” Frank grabbed William by the collar of his expensive shirt, slamming him hard against the wall. William’s expression turned vicious. He mocked him without mercy. “Still trying to hide her, even now? You really are pathetically in love with her, Frank. It is a damn shame she is already used goods. I have ruined her. Maybe whenever I finally get bored of her, I will toss her your way.” “But not today. Today, she has to go bleed in front of my mother’s grave. She doesn’t have time to play house with you.” Frank’s face flushed a violent red from his neck to his forehead. His hands tightened like a vice around William’s collar. “You piece of trash.” He threw a brutal punch straight into William’s jaw. William let out a muffled groan of pain. In a matter of seconds, the two men were engaged in a violent, bloody fistfight on the hardwood floor. The old superstitions always said that ghosts couldn’t feel anything. But floating there in the living room, my chest felt so tight I thought it was going to explode. Frank was in good shape, but William was professionally trained in combat. It didn’t take long for William to pin him entirely to the floor, leaving Frank’s face bruised and bleeding. I was pacing in frantic circles, completely powerless to stop it. “Look at how pathetic you are, Frank,” William spat, panting heavily. “Getting beaten half to death over Nora. And where is she? Hiding in the back, happily letting you take the hits.” “Is a woman like that really worth all this?” Frank let out a sharp, bloody laugh, his eyes filled with absolute disgust. “You are the pathetic one, William. A man who can’t even recognize his own mother’s murderer. A man who tortures the only woman who ever actually loved him. You are living a life worse than a stray dog.” “What the hell did you just say?” William pulled his fist back, ready to cave Frank’s face in. Right then, a panicked voice shouted from the doorway. “Boss! We pulled the traffic cam footage of her accident. And… we got a copy of her autopsy report.” 4 William froze in absolute shock. Taking advantage of the distraction, Frank threw a vicious uppercut right into William’s jaw. Frank pushed himself off the floor, looking down at William’s bewildered face with pure icy contempt. “Now get your men and get the hell out of my house.” But William totally ignored him. He scrambled off the floor and sprinted straight into Frank’s home office. The heavy mahogany desk was covered in photographs. Every single photo was of me. My face was a ruin of blood, the features so mangled and destroyed that it was almost impossible to recognize me. I only took one look before I had to turn my phantom head away. I knew exactly how horrifying my corpse looked. One of my eyeballs had been dislodged, and the left side of my skull was sickeningly caved in. When the medical examiner was trying to identify my body, it had taken them hours of forensic work. Yet, Frank had printed these nightmare inducing photos out and left them scattered all over his desk. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was terrified of having nightmares. Now, William had those exact photos in his trembling hands. He was staring at them with a terrifying intensity, as if he was searching for a hidden zipper or a mask, refusing to miss a single detail. His grip was so tight that the glossy paper began to crumple. As his subordinate kept talking, William’s eyes slowly dragged up to the bright computer monitor. The screen was looping the security footage of my accident. Two cars colliding head on at massive speeds. My car practically launched into the air upon impact. The visual was absolutely gut wrenching. William’s eyes instantly flooded with a violent, bloody red. His hand shook uncontrollably over the computer mouse, yet he obsessively replayed the gruesome crash over and over again. “How did you know she was in a crash?” William’s voice was completely destroyed, sounding like grinding sandpaper. He must have been losing his mind wondering how Frank knew something he didn’t. Frank crossed his arms, his voice dripping with venom. “You already know the answer. Her very last phone call was to me.” “She barely had the strength to breathe, but she used the very last ounce of her life to tell me a secret.” “What secret?” William asked, his voice cracking with desperation. But Frank was in no rush. He stood there, soaking in William’s panic and agony like a fine wine. “I asked you what the secret was!” William screamed, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull. Finally, Frank dropped his mocking smile. His face turned to stone. “She said that the person who murdered your mother… was Ivy.” “Bullshit.” William rejected the truth instantly. He shook his head frantically, taking a step back. “It couldn’t be Ivy. My mother treated her like gold.” “You are lying to me, Frank.” “This is a trap you and Nora set up, isn’t it? You are just trying to help her escape me.” “Well you can forget it! You tell Nora that even if she really is dead, she belongs to me forever.” I lowered my eyes, forcing down the phantom ache rising in my chest. It didn’t matter anymore. I was already dead. Whether William believed the truth or not meant absolutely nothing to me now. He could never hurt me again. Forced by the invisible tether, I followed William out of Frank’s house. Just as I floated through the doorway, I felt an intense, burning gaze on my back. I turned around to find Frank staring directly at me. His eyes were totally red, and his lips trembled as he formed a silent word. Nora. I stood there paralyzed for a few seconds, my eyes burning with phantom tears. When he silently mouthed my name a second time, I finally knew for sure. Frank could actually see me. My nose stung. I wanted to run up and hug him, but the invisible tether yanked me backward, pulling me further and further away toward William’s car. Sitting in the passenger seat, drowning in the suffocating silence of William’s panic, my hands shook with overwhelming emotion. Frank was my childhood best friend. We grew up together, sharing every single secret we ever had. In college, when I first met William and started dating him, I had literally sprinted to Frank to share the news. When Frank heard I was in a relationship, his first reaction wasn’t happiness. He had just stared at me with a deeply complex, painful look. “Do you really love him? It isn’t just a fling?” I had answered without hesitation. “I love him. I want to spend the rest of my life with him.” That day, the usually loud and annoying Frank went completely silent. Shortly after, he applied to study abroad. William and I were fighting a massive war against his family’s disapproval. Between the stress and the distance, Frank and I slowly stopped talking. It wasn’t until William’s mother died, and William’s love turned into pure, abusive hatred, that Frank finally flew back home. He asked me to run away with him. His eyes were so desperate, so full of determination. But I couldn’t bring myself to abandon William when he was spiraling in grief. I rejected Frank’s offer. Furious at my stubborn blindness, Frank packed his bags and left the country again. He was gone for two years. And in those two years, William’s endless abuse finally killed every last drop of love I had for him. I was finally ready to leave. The second Frank heard the news, he booked a flight home without a single second of hesitation. But before I could leave, I had gone to the cemetery to light one final stick of incense for Mrs. Schmidt. And while I was there, I overheard Ivy screaming curses at her grave. That was how I found out the truth. On the night Mrs. Schmidt died, Ivy had gone to the house, demanding the old woman approve of her marrying William. When Mrs. Schmidt realized her adopted daughter’s sick obsession, it triggered a massive heart attack. Ivy literally snatched her emergency medication out of her hands and watched her die.

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1 On my wedding morning, my fiancé’s young secretary shared an Instagram post. “Today’s my boss’s wedding. I hoped to attend, but I spent the night sick and tossing restlessly in agony.” As soon as Ryan saw it, he dropped the bridal bouquet on the red carpet and prepared to leave. I clutched his sleeve anxiously. “Don’t leave me stranded. At least stay till the ceremony ends.” Ryan’s expression turned icy, yanking his arm free. “You’re selfish, Clair. Didn’t you read her post? She once saved me, and I vowed lifelong care for her. I can’t celebrate while she’s unwell.” “Humiliated to stand alone? Find any stranger to fill in as your groom; it’s none of my concern.” Within thirty minutes, news of his wedding abandonment blew up online. He raced to the waterfront, where Lila waited in a white gown. They held an impromptu public wedding aboard a lavish yacht. Netizens gushed over their romance yet mocked me in tagged comments. “She’s the town’s laughingstock, unable to hold her groom; the secretary won completely.” “Will she tie a bow tie to a golden retriever and wed a dog to finish the ceremony?” Remaining composed, I pulled out my phone and dialed: “Enjoyed the show? Come quickly and marry me now that you’re done watching.” The moment the words left my mouth, the entire grand ballroom fell dead silent for a split second before completely exploding into chaotic whispers. A young woman holding a live-streaming tripod practically shoved her camera right into my face. “Look at this! This bride has zero shame!” “Her groom literally ran away thirty minutes ago to host a fake wedding with another woman, and she is standing up there acting like she is calling the shots?” “Listen to that arrogant tone. If you didn’t know the truth, you would actually believe she had a billionaire backup groom waiting in the wings!” I calmly ended the call. A sharp, mocking laugh echoed from the front row. “Cut the act. She is just humiliated that she got dumped at the altar, so she is pretending someone is coming to save her.” “Everyone knows Clair wasted her entire youth throwing herself at Ryan. She brought him umbrellas in the pouring rain, delivered homemade breakfasts to his office, and totally degraded herself just to chase a man. There is absolutely no way she has a backup plan.” I stood there in silence, listening to the venomous, biting whispers swirling around the room. I looked down at my expensive shoes and quietly laughed at my own stupidity. For so many years, I had treated Ryan as my ultimate destiny. I truly believed that walking down the aisle with him was written in the stars. But life always throws a curveball. His little secretary, Lila, was that curveball. He had abandoned me at elite charity galas just because Lila texted him that her kitchen sink was leaking. And today, just because of two words complaining about being “sick”, he abandoned our wedding. He left me standing entirely alone in front of hundreds of guests, completely exposed to the awkward stares and relentless interrogations of our relatives. Right at that moment, a massive gasp rippled through the crowd. “Look at your phones! Ryan running away is the number one trending topic!” “The views are skyrocketing by the second.” “Ryan is so insanely romantic. Just because his secretary said she wanted to experience a wedding, he blew fifty million dollars to rent a mega-yacht and throw her a dream ceremony…” A few people in the crowd found it completely absurd and scoffed out loud. “You call that romantic? That is toxic trash.” “He was literally in the middle of his actual wedding, and he just bolted to play dress-up with a secretary. Is that supposed to be a reliable man?” My mother sat in the front row, her face turning a sickly shade of gray, her eyes brimming with red tears. She tried to stand up, but my father gently held her down by the shoulder. “Let’s just wait a few more minutes. If there is no miracle, it won’t be too late to walk out of this hotel with our heads held high.” My father’s face was completely dark. He wanted to flip the tables and tear the room apart more than anyone else, but he was terrified of making me look even worse. “Clair, sweetheart… should we just head home?” My bridesmaid, Brooke, leaned in close, her voice an anxious whisper. “We can’t just stand here looking like fools.” “Ryan is out there kissing someone else on a yacht. He is definitely not coming back…” “Give me your phone.” I held out my hand. Brooke hesitated for a second before unlocking her screen and passing it over. A breaking news notification popped up immediately. [PRESCOTT ENTERPRISES CEO THROWS $50 MILLION DOLLAR MOCK WEDDING TO COMFORT SECRETARY. ROMANTIC KISS BY THE HARBOR.] In the attached photo, Ryan looked flawless in his tailored tuxedo. He was holding Lila, who was draped in an extravagant white gown, tightly against his chest. The background was the sparkling river, illuminated by golden string lights and falling rose petals. Lila was leaning into his embrace, her eyes perfectly red and teary, looking like the ultimate damsel in distress. The comment section broke a thousand replies in a matter of seconds. “Oh my god, what kind of epic romance is this? The billionaire CEO literally threw away his own wedding to save his secretary?” “I thought this was just a spicy office romance, but the actual bride ended up being the villainous cannon fodder.” “Feeling bad for the bride for exactly one second, but all my love goes to the secretary. Finding a man who would do this for you is the ultimate dream.” “Honestly, the bride is pitiful, but she should blame herself for not being the CEO’s lifesaver.” I scrolled through the comments, my face as perfectly blank as if I were reading an article about a total stranger. It was true. Lila had saved Ryan’s life. 2 Three years ago, Ryan was involved in a catastrophic multi-car pileup during a business trip. According to the hospital, Lila had donated a massive amount of blood to save him. She supposedly gave so much blood that the nurses had to catch her as she passed out on the clinic floor. When Ryan finally woke up and heard the story, his eyes had filled with emotional tears. He swore to repay the debt. He even stood in front of the entire corporate board and publicly declared that for the rest of his life, whatever Lila asked for, she would get. His words were etched into stone. So today, when she whined about feeling “sick”, he threw our entire future in the trash and sprinted out the door. “Miss Clair.” The wedding planner ran up to the stage, wiping thick drops of sweat from his forehead. “What should we do? Should we postpone the reception? The photography team is asking if they should pack up their gear.” “No need to postpone.” “Then what exactly are you planning to…” I glanced down at my phone screen. That phone call I had made earlier lasted exactly eleven seconds. That was more than enough. He said he would definitely come. Brooke was practically stomping her heels into the floor with anxiety. “Clair, who the hell did you just call? Who is coming? You need to tell me!” I slowly turned my gaze toward the heavy oak doors at the back of the banquet hall. The doors were sealed shut. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that he would be walking through them very soon. “Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated and enjoy your drinks. The ceremony has been delayed by exactly twenty minutes. We will resume shortly.” I kept a flawless, polite smile on my face as I made the announcement to the room. But instead of respect, I was met with a tidal wave of cruel laughter and mocking whispers. “Has she completely lost her mind? Her husband ran off to play house with his secretary. What difference does twenty minutes make? How is she still smiling?” “It has to be trauma. Her brain just completely snapped from the humiliation.” “This is hilarious. Twenty minutes? Is she planning to order a stunt double off the internet to play the groom?” Through the chorus of laughter, a sleazy, fifty-year-old businessman walked up to the edge of the stage, holding out a glass of champagne. “Miss Clair, don’t be so heartbroken. Since your groom bailed on you, how about I step in and be your husband for the night?” I didn’t take the glass. He let out a greasy chuckle, forcefully shoving the glass into my hand and casually patting my bare skin. “Don’t be so shy, sweetheart. Your man literally tossed you in the garbage. You are in no position to play hard to get.” Because of his rough movement, the golden champagne splashed over the rim, staining the pristine white lace of my wedding dress. I set the glass down on a nearby cocktail table. “Thank you, but I don’t drink.” “Wow, still acting like a snob.” The man sneered, turning back to his wealthy friends. “Dumped at the altar and still acting like a saint. She really has no idea how pathetic she looks right now.” “I did her a massive favor by offering to be her groom, and she actually has the nerve to give me an attitude!” Before the words even settled, he took a step forward, reaching out to grab my waist. A group of equally repulsive men behind him started cheering and hollering. “I want to be the groom too!” “Count me in!” My parents’ faces contorted with absolute fury. They were just about to rush the stage to protect me, when a loud ringing echoed through the speakers. Earlier, I had told the DJ to mirror my phone screen to the massive LED displays behind the altar, just so the guests could see exactly what I was looking at. Someone in the sound booth must have accidentally clicked accept. A second later, Ryan’s face filled the giant screens spanning the entire width of the banquet hall. It was a live video call. 3 “Clair, why are you still shamelessly standing there at the venue?” “I made myself perfectly clear. The wedding today is officially canceled.” “If you don’t pack up and leave, do not blame me when you become the laughingstock of the city. You are bringing this humiliation entirely upon yourself.” Suddenly, Lila leaned into the frame, pressing her cheek against Ryan’s shoulder. “Clair, I am so, so sorry.” “I just made a tiny little comment about wishing I knew what a wedding felt like, and Mr. Prescott immediately threw me this gorgeous mock ceremony. And look!” Lila took two steps back, making sure the camera captured her entire body, and did a triumphant, theatrical twirl. She was showing off a bridal gown that was infinitely more extravagant than mine. “Mr. Prescott actually had a helicopter fly this custom, one-of-a-kind piece in from Paris. The train is literally hand-stitched with real diamonds. It is probably a hundred times more expensive than the dress you are wearing. Oh my gosh, Clair, I hope me saying that doesn’t make you angry…” Standing under the crushing weight of hundreds of mocking stares and stifled laughs, I spoke with terrifying calm. “Of course not.” Ryan let out a dark, arrogant scoff. “Clair, I had no idea you were so incredibly generous. You are actually willing to hand your own husband over to someone else.” “Since you are taking it so well, I guess I don’t need to worry about you having a mental breakdown or doing something stupid just because I left.” “It looks like you are doing perfectly fine.” “Oh, by the way. If you are bored and have nothing better to do, you can come down to the waterfront and join our mock wedding. It might be fake, but it is still a beautiful experience.” Ryan looked down at Lila, his eyes melting with absolute adoration as he stroked her hair. “Lila said her only regret today is that you aren’t here. If you show up, it would make her so incredibly happy.” “I can’t make it. I still have a wedding to finish.” I took the initiative. “If there is nothing else, I am hanging up.” Without waiting for his response, I cut the feed. I picked up the heavy skirts of my ruined dress and walked straight down the center aisle, heading toward the back of the room to see if my call had been answered. The red carpet stretched perfectly straight. When we originally booked the venue, the hotel manager proudly told me this aisle was exactly one hundred feet long. A perfect number to symbolize a long, flawless marriage. It was the ultimate display of luxury. Now, every single step I took down those one hundred feet was accompanied by the sound of cruel laughter. The whispers grew even more vicious as I walked. “Where is she going? Is she actually going to the waterfront to beg her husband to come back?” “Let her go. It’s just going to be pure humiliation. The little secretary is wrapped in the CEO’s arms right now.” “I heard the CEO rented an entire fleet of yachts just to make the secretary smile. Fifty million dollars. Unreal.” “Tsk, tsk. Look at the bride. She looks so cheap and pathetic in comparison…” I was halfway down the red carpet. Suddenly, the massive, heavy oak doors at the end of the hall were pushed open from the outside. I froze, lifting my head. A blinding beam of golden sunlight poured into the dimly lit room. Framed perfectly in the light was a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette. He was wearing a razor-sharp, immaculate suit. He walked forward with slow, powerful, unhurried steps. He walked right up to me, stopped, and spoke in a voice that was incredibly deep and gentle. “My apologies for the delay. Traffic was an absolute nightmare.” I stared blankly at his handsome face, suddenly feeling a sharp burning sensation in the back of my nose. This man had waited for me for seven long years. And I had blindly chosen Ryan instead. Three years ago, he looked at me and said, “I truly hope Ryan makes you happy. But if he ever fails to give you the world, remember to call me. I will always be your safety net.” I had smiled and said okay. But I had brushed it off as a sweet, nostalgic joke, and turned the page on our chapter. He moved abroad, and for three entire years, I never heard a single word from him. I assumed he had moved on and forgotten about me. Until an hour ago. When I stood in my wedding dress on an empty stage, watching Ryan throw the bouquet on the floor and sprint out the door without a single ounce of hesitation to save his secretary. In that moment of absolute clarity, I remembered. I pulled out my phone and dialed the number that had sat untouched in my contacts for three years. “Have you had enough fun watching the drama?” “If you are done watching, hurry up and get over here to marry me.” And now, he was actually here. He reached out and gently took my hand. His palm was grounding and intensely warm. He tilted his head slightly, his sharp, predatory gaze sweeping over the hundreds of shocked, paralyzed faces in the banquet hall, before finally resting back on me. “Let the ceremony continue.” He paused, the corner of his lips curling into a dangerously charming smile. “The bride’s husband has finally arrived.” 4 The entire crowd of guests sat frozen like statues. The girl holding the live-streaming tripod was the first to snap out of her trance. She violently whipped her camera around to focus on the door. “Oh my god, oh my god! Who the hell is that?!” When the crowd finally got a good look at Gideon’s face, they doubled down on their mockery. “Clair, you really are pathetic. Do you honestly think dragging some random gigolo off the street is going to save your pride?” “You have got to be kidding me. You are so desperate to save face that you are willing to marry a piece of trash right off the sidewalk…” I turned to look at Gideon, a light smirk playing on my lips. “They are calling you a piece of trash off the sidewalk. What are your thoughts on that?” Gideon let out a low, vibrating chuckle, stepping even closer to me. “They are absolute nobodies. Why would I care what dirt thinks?” He was exactly the same Gideon I remembered. Arrogant, untouchable, and fiercely loyal. I squeezed his hand tightly, standing shoulder to shoulder with him as we began walking back up the red carpet toward the altar. “Clair! Stop right there!” It was my mother. She practically sprinted down the aisle, grabbing my arm with trembling hands. Her eyes were bloodshot. “Who is this man?! Do you have any idea what you are doing? Every single guest in this room belongs to our family or Ryan’s family. Dragging a total stranger in here is pure insanity!” I gently patted her shaking hand. “Mom, I just refuse to marry a man who abandons his own wedding.” My mother’s tears finally spilled over. “I know Ryan broke your heart. I know you are in pain, but no matter how hurt you are…” She shot a terrified, skeptical glare at Gideon. “Who is he? You know absolutely nothing about his background, and you are just going to marry him on a whim?!” My father stormed over, his face completely dark with anger. “Your mother is right, Clair. Even if you never get married for the rest of your life, we will always take care of you. But a daughter of our family does not degrade herself by marrying a random stranger just to prove a point!” But the second my parents actually turned to look closely at Gideon’s face, they both froze entirely. Their jaws literally dropped open in pure shock. They recognized that face. They had seen it on the covers of elite financial magazines and in exclusive prime-time business interviews. He was the wealthiest man in New York, the absolute ruler of the Mercer Group. Gideon Mercer. A man worth hundreds of billions, known for being incredibly low-profile and rarely appearing in public. The financial world described him with only one phrase: Unfathomably dangerous. “Are you… Gideon Mercer?” Gideon offered a polite, respectful smile. “Yes, sir. It is me.” “Please rest assured, I am not a random stranger pulled off the street. I have been waiting for this exact day for seven years.” “I promise you, I will fulfill my duties as a husband far better than the man who ran away.” The second those words echoed through the room, the entire banquet hall dropped into a suffocating, terrifying silence. Ryan’s relatives, who had been laughing the loudest just seconds ago, now looked so horrified they wanted to dig a hole through the floor and bury themselves. Gideon smoothly took control, offering a flawless solution. “Your mother made an excellent point.” “The majority of the people in this room are related to the Prescott family. Hosting our ceremony in front of them is highly inappropriate.” “If you would please direct your guests to the grand ballroom in the adjacent tower, I have already arranged for a complete, fully catered wedding setup.” Faced with that level of power and preparation, my parents couldn’t utter a single word of protest. They simply nodded in a daze and began ushering our side of the family out the doors. In the midst of the chaotic migration, the very people who had been relentlessly mocking me were now paralyzed with disbelief. “How the hell did Clair pull this off? She actually managed to sink her claws into the heir of the Mercer empire?” “This has to be a scripted PR stunt!” The live-streaming girl was practically crawling over chairs to follow us, her camera locked dead onto Gideon’s face. “L-ladies and gentlemen! We have the most insane plot twist in history!” “The bride, Clair, was just rescued from the altar by another man! And this man is heavily suspected to be… Gideon Mercer! Yes, the CEO of the Mercer Group!” On her screen, the live chat was scrolling by so fast it was a blur of pure hysteria. Meanwhile, down by the waterfront at the mock wedding, Ryan’s assistant ran onto the yacht, his face as pale as a ghost. “Mr. Prescott! You told me to keep an eye on Miss Clair’s venue. Something massive just happened!” “Miss Clair is getting married to another man! They are probably exchanging rings right now…”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “459951”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I once took a private job pretending to date someone online on another person’s behalf. My employer was a spoiled rich girl. She said the guy was an iceberg no amount of warmth could melt. “If he replies to you even once, I’ll pay you ten thousand dollars. Deal?” During the darkest, most suffocating period of my life, I held a spare phone and chatted about everything under the sun with a stranger I had never met. Until one day, the girl rushed over and hugged me excitedly. “Oh my God! You’re amazing! Bobby actually agreed to be my boyfriend!” In that instant, it felt as if all the air had been sucked from my lungs. Oh. What a coincidence. So it was Bobby. The boy I had secretly loved for ten whole years, yet had never dared to say even “hello” to. 1 The stack of cash in my hand suddenly became unbearably hot, burning my palm until it hurt. I stood there in a daze for a long time. So it was him. But when I thought about it, it made sense. Other than him, who else would be worth Lisa offering such an absurdly high price? “Ruby, I didn’t mean to hide it from you.” Lisa was wearing a pink Miu Miu slip dress, her smooth blond hair falling over her shoulders. She clasped her hands together and looked at me apologetically. “But I hired several so-called dating experts before, and he ignored all of them…” She let out a long breath. “Thank God you helped. If Bobby really got snatched up by some girl from another circle, I’d absolutely lose my mind.” I nodded numbly. Right. If I had known the person on the other side of the screen was Bobby, I would have refused without the slightest hesitation. First, because there were far too many girls trying to get close to him. Second, because I liked him far too much. So much that whenever our eyes met, I would flee in panic. Bobby was impossibly striking. Pale skin, a sharp jawline, grades that kept him firmly at the top of the year, and a family background so deep no one could see the bottom of it. In freshman year, he had already secured a spot at Oxford’s geek summer camp. His whole being carried a cold, distant air that kept strangers away. He was untouchable, like a cold moon suspended in the night sky. But who could have imagined? The person who listened to me whisper voice messages complaining about our awful calculus teacher, who helped me agonize over whether to have pizza or a burrito for dinner, who even laughed “haha” at the ridiculous memes I sent him every day on the other side of the screen… Was also him. 2 When Lisa transferred the money to me on her phone, the girls around her were sizing me up with critical eyes. Their gazes carried undisguised disappointment. “Oh, so it’s her. She looks way too ordinary.” “Lisa, are you sure someone like Bobby, that unreachable flower on a mountaintop, was chatting with her every day for three months?” Lisa shook her head and smiled sweetly at me. “Give me your phone.” My palm was covered in cold sweat, sticky and damp. At this point, what else could I say? Lisa took the spare phone, opened the chat, and casually scrolled up and down. “You didn’t talk about anything special.” She frowned slightly, troubled. “So how exactly did Bobby fall for me?” A girl beside her burst out laughing and nudged her with an elbow. “Please, Lisa. You’re the school beauty of Westwood High, okay? Last time in the art building, I personally saw him leaning by the window drawing you. Thirteen pages of sketches. Be a little more confident in that face of yours, would you?” California sunlight filtered through the leaves and fell across Lisa’s face, making her cheeks look rosy and vivid. Not far away, a few boys playing basketball had already started whistling at her. My heart clenched. I suddenly remembered a joke Bobby once made in our chat. [You’re so pretty. Are you really afraid no one will chase you?] Oh. So he had probably liked Lisa for a long time already. Then I truly had nothing to feel unwilling about. Even if I had approached him using my real identity, he might not have spared me a second glance. People are always drawn toward light and beauty. Even I was no exception. Who could be blamed for that? I handed Lisa every detail I had learned about Bobby over the past three months without holding anything back. He liked sour cherry gelato. He liked playing chess online. He had an uncle who was a professional race-car driver. We started talking because of a litter of stray cats behind the gym, and later became closer because of AP Calculus competition problems. And today, this online dating game officially came to an end. In total, there had been fifty-six meaningful exchanges. That was everything between him and me over these three months. Lisa carefully recorded those details in her notes app and nodded at me. “Thanks, Ruby. Five hundred and sixty thousand dollars. You made a fortune.” They walked away laughing and chatting. Only after a long time did I hear my own dry voice drifting into the air. “You’re welcome.” I clenched the heavy black card tightly in my palm, its edge digging painfully into my bones. This meant I no longer had to face the desperate choice of dropping out and waiting tables. My family’s mess of debt was finally cleared. But so what? I had taken someone else’s money and personally helped someone else win the boy I had loved in secret for ten years. 3 The whole thing shattered me. For an entire evening study session, I stared at my test paper and couldn’t write a single word. It wasn’t until I returned after school to that cramped rental apartment that I suddenly realized— Bobby’s obsidian bracelet was still in the pocket of my jacket. I had picked it up in the hallway yesterday after class. Bobby’s classroom was right next to mine, less than ten meters away in a straight line. He hadn’t been in the room then, and I could have simply slipped the bracelet into his desk. But just as I was about to reach his desk, I turned around as if possessed. At that moment, a secret little joy had even risen in my heart. I knew Bobby’s private alternate account. He had given it to me himself before, to send over some competition materials. That string of numbers was already engraved in my memory. Just last night, I had been so excited by that tiny point of connection that I couldn’t sleep at all. I hid under the blanket, holding my phone, the glow of the screen lighting up my burning face. I spent hours writing, deleting, and rewriting drafts. When should I message him? What tone should I use? Would just saying, “Hi, your bracelet is with me,” sound too stiff? When he replied, would he say thank you to me? I hesitated for ages, unable to press send on the message I had written. But now, everything had become one giant joke. I buried myself in my pillow and broke down crying. After I cried until my throat went hoarse, I started laughing at myself for being a complete fool. Bobby’s “thank you” was something I had heard before. On that online dating account full of lies, he had once sent voice messages, his low, sexy voice carrying a smile, gently saying “thank you” to me thirty-six times. Unfortunately. He thought all that tenderness had been given to a beautiful, dazzling school beauty. And only today did I finally see reality clearly. 4 Early the next morning, while there were still few people in the hallway, I took the obsidian bracelet to the neighboring class. But my luck was truly terrible. I ran straight into Bobby. He had arrived unusually early today, wearing a plain black distressed T-shirt. His cold white skin looked especially striking in the morning light. He was leaning lazily against the back doorframe. When he saw me standing beside his desk, Bobby frowned slightly. “Something wrong?” This was the first time he and I had faced each other directly in real life. The opening line I had rehearsed countless times in my heart collapsed the instant it touched his indifferent gaze. After several seconds, I finally managed to find my voice. “I found your bracelet. I’m just returning it.” The boys gathered around him immediately started making noise, their tones teasing. “Yo, that bracelet isn’t cheap. Bobby was looking for it all day.” “Girl, you two are so fated. Bobby, aren’t you going to add her on Snapchat and thank her properly?” Their voices were loud, and soon plenty of students in the hallway were peeking over to watch the show. For years, I had been used to grinding through calculus problems that made people lose hair, but I had no idea how to handle boys teasing me like this. Worse, facing Bobby made me instinctively feel guilty. But in the next second, amid everyone’s jeering, Bobby calmly looked away. “That’s not mine.” The air went quiet at once. At that moment, a boy with light chestnut hair squeezed out from the crowd. He looked at me, frozen in place, scratched his head, and helped smooth things over apologetically. “Hey, thanks. You probably got the wrong desk. I lost this yesterday. Let me add you and send you a reward.” I lowered my eyes and stared hard at my washed-out canvas shoes. After a long time, I nodded lightly. “Okay.” That boy added my Venmo and swiftly sent me three hundred dollars. The farce ended there. Bobby turned sideways and looked out at the sports field. From beginning to end, he never looked at me again. But I knew better than anyone. That was his bracelet. He was lying. 5 I tried desperately to control my emotions and pretend nothing had happened. I had secretly loved him for so long. I understood too well how his circle judged people. I didn’t want to be labeled as a scheming girl. I didn’t want others to think I had deliberately stolen his thing just to create an opportunity to talk to him. My deskmate stood up for me beside me. “Ruby, if we’d known, you shouldn’t have gone to return it. I was so excited for you just now, and in the end that young master couldn’t even be bothered to acknowledge you.” A girl in the front row turned around and lightly laughed. “Please, that’s Bobby. His head is probably full of Ivy League early admissions right now. Where would he find the time to bother with nobodies like us?” True. I was distracted when the spare phone in my pocket suddenly vibrated. It was a one-second voice message. When I tapped it open, a man’s low, helpless voice exploded beside my ear. [Babe, are you still mad at me?] It was Bobby. Only then did I remember. Lisa had left in such a hurry yesterday that she hadn’t taken away the phone used specifically for the online relationship. Immediately after, he sent two more messages to explain. [I don’t know those people from earlier.] [If you don’t like it, I promise I won’t say half a word to any other girl at school from now on. Okay?] There was a trace of helplessness in his tone, but even more than that, there was unreserved indulgence. I froze in place, feeling as if my heart had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand. I took a deep breath and messaged Lisa, asking how I should reply. She was probably practicing ballet in the dance studio. It took her a while to type back, her tone carrying a bit of pride and teasing. “Aww, isn’t chatting with him what you’re best at? Just tell him that if he brings me one of those viral handmade croissants tomorrow morning, I’ll forgive him!” I replied, “Okay.” After pausing, I couldn’t help reminding her, “You should take this phone back as soon as possible.” I didn’t know whether she took it to heart. But the second I sent the croissant request, Bobby replied instantly. It was a silly cute sticker of a puppy saluting. [Yes, ma’am!] [How about adding a vanilla latte too? I’ll brew it myself.] Powerless, I lay across my desk, my cheek pressed against the cool surface. My gaze drifted out the window unintentionally, and I happened to see Bobby at the end of the corridor, head lowered as he sent a voice message on his phone. The California breeze brushed through the loose strands of hair on his forehead. In his usually cold, sharp eyes, there was now a tender smile so full he didn’t even seem to notice it himself. Only belatedly did I understand. No wonder he denied the bracelet in front of everyone that morning. He refused to claim it. He didn’t want to have anything to do with me in public… It turned out it was because he had made Lisa a promise. 6 At Westwood High, gossip about Bobby always spread faster than a virus. Within days, the explosive news that Bobby and Lisa were dating was known throughout the entire school. Quite a few girls gossiped sourly in the restroom. “Oh my God, I’m so curious what Bobby is like when he’s in love.” At the time, Lisa was touching up her makeup at the sink, and I was standing beside her washing my hands. She pressed her bright red lips together in front of the mirror and said with feigned distress, “Him? He’s just your standard iceberg. He’s never proactive, and sometimes his EQ is ridiculously low. He’s always making me angry.” No. I silently refuted her in my heart. Every time he made you angry, he would apologize humbly from the other side of the screen. Those restrained yet burning words of love, he would send to you again and again late at night, tender and lingering. The spare phone that belonged to the two of them had been lying lifelessly in the depths of my drawer. Lisa seemed to have completely forgotten it. Or rather, she was enjoying those high-profile, sweet dates with Bobby in real life every day, and no longer cared about this former virtual connection at all. Until one day, my deskmate excitedly tugged on my sleeve and told me she had personally seen Bobby and Lisa secretly kissing under the gym bleachers. From that day onward, I never replied to any messages on Lisa’s behalf again. Most of the time, I turned the phone off and threw it into the deepest part of my drawer. I forced myself to become even busier. Practice problems, calculus competition preparation, part-time shifts at a cafe downtown. That five hundred thousand dollars had indeed pulled me out of the mire of debt, but the road of life still had to be walked by me, step by step. Sometimes fate is strange. Instead, I gradually became familiar with the boy who had added my Venmo: Nolan. We often ran into each other in the library and hallways, occasionally stopping to chat for a few minutes. Only after we had gotten close did he confess to me over coffee one day. “Ruby, I’m really sorry about that thing before. That day, Bobby used me as a shield. I didn’t mean to make you unable to step down in front of everyone. The three hundred dollars was also transferred to me by him, for me to transfer to you. Just accept it. Treat it as hush money.” I shook my head and said it wasn’t necessary. He leaned back against the bench, tilted his head, and looked at me with a smile, his peach-blossom eyes sparkling. “Seriously, my family is strict. You’re the first girl I’ve added on my phone.” 7 Nolan had an easygoing personality. Bit by bit, he pulled me into that circle that had once seemed unreachable. He and Bobby were both rich second-generation kids whose families spent heavily on private tutors. There were certain secret prediction papers for AP exams that couldn’t be bought anywhere on the market. But every day, Nolan would casually slip me a photocopied set. Sometimes when he was too busy and forgot, he would ask Bobby to bring them to me on the way. After enough back and forth, when Bobby and I met again, we could just barely nod at each other as a greeting. Whenever Nolan went to other schools for debate tournaments, he would bring me onto the team too. Thanks to him, my resume looked much better, and I even received two sizable scholarships. One time, when I was looking everywhere for a weekend part-time job, Bobby unexpectedly took the initiative to speak. “I have a cousin in sixth grade who’s looking for a math tutor. The hourly pay is high. Do you want to try?” The pay he offered was indeed absurdly high, enough for me to quit my other three exhausting part-time jobs. The fingers holding my pen stiffened slightly, but in the end, I said softly, “Sure.” As I packed my bag and turned to leave, Nolan was leaning against the hallway lockers, nudging Bobby with his elbow and teasing him. “Hey, why did you take my phone just now? Didn’t you already know Ruby’s social account?” Bobby’s voice paused for half a second, his tone still mild. “Nothing. I just thought… that sticker she posted in the group earlier looked familiar.” Hearing that, I didn’t dare keep listening. I quickened my pace and fled the hallway, my heartbeat so fast it felt like it was about to burst from my chest. But Bobby never became suspicious in the end. His preference for Lisa was obvious to the entire school, almost to an outrageous degree. Last week, for Lisa’s birthday, Bobby directly had someone bring back a six-figure diamond necklace from a Paris auction. At the very bottom of the velvet gift box, there also lay a shell shimmering with iridescent color. Lisa could tell at one glance that the necklace was priceless. As for the shell, she muttered in disgust, “What kind of junk is this?” and tossed it into the trash. “I never said I liked worthless stuff like this,” she complained to her friends. She indeed had never said that. But I had. On that spare phone, I had once told Bobby that when my father passed away, the only thing he left me was an iridescent shell. But when I moved, I accidentally lost it. I said I had read in a book that this rare pearl shell could only be found on certain specific coasts. But I never imagined Bobby would remember that offhand remark, or even specially search one out for her. After school that day, I searched alone through the classroom trash can for a very, very long time before finally finding the discarded shell. I wiped it clean carefully and said, very softly in my heart: “Thank you.” 8 In early April, California was hit by an extremely rare rainstorm. The low-lying areas of the school were deeply flooded. I suddenly thought of the litter of newborn stray kittens behind the gym and hurriedly took out my phone to message Lisa. “Are you free right now? The back door of the gym is flooding.” Bobby had been feeding that litter for a long time, and he happened to be out in the city for a competition today. If anything happened to the cats, he would definitely be devastated. Lisa was at a nail salon with her friends, getting sparkly pink French tips done. She quickly replied with a voice message. “I hate cats the most. They shed everywhere, and if they scratch me I’d have to get a rabies shot. Ruby, just help me out and deal with it, okay?” I didn’t have time to think. I pulled on a raincoat and rushed into the downpour. The kittens were frightened by the thunder and darted around wildly. The muddy water on the ground was slippery. I fell hard three or four times, my knees throbbing from the impact, before finally protecting all those wet little things in my arms. When I looked up— I unexpectedly crashed into Bobby’s deep eyes. He was holding a black umbrella, his brows tightly furrowed as he looked at my disheveled state. Just as my mind went blank and I had no idea how to explain why I was there, Lisa suddenly ran over from behind me, panting. She took the kittens from my arms in one swift motion. “Ruby, why did you come too?” she said with a worried expression. “Aren’t you severely allergic to cat fur? Leave this to me. Thanks for helping.” Bobby’s tightly furrowed brows instantly relaxed. He tilted the umbrella handle toward Lisa, leaving most of his own body in the rain, then walked over and held both her and the kittens tightly in his arms. “Thank you, Lisa.” He lowered his head and kissed her hair. “I really didn’t expect you to come personally.” I stood in the heavy rain, like a complete outsider. In the end, I turned and left without saying a word. Back in the classroom, Nolan saw me drenched and my knee still bleeding. His face immediately darkened. “Where did you go to end up like this?” I shook my head, my voice a little weak. “It’s nothing. I’m a little cold. I want to lie down and sleep for a while.” Without a word, he bent down and pulled me onto his back. “Sleep later. I’ll take you to the infirmary first.” The school nurse was treating my scrapes with iodine when someone knocked on the infirmary door. It was Bobby. He had probably seen that I was hurt and came over out of politeness to say thank you. But just as he approached the bed, his gaze unintentionally moved downward and swept over my half-open backpack— At the iridescent shell I had carefully wrapped in a handkerchief. The last trace of warmth in his eyes instantly froze into thick ice. At that moment, his expression was filled with undisguised disgust and wariness. Facing his gaze, cold as a blade, my throat tightened. I couldn’t explain a single word. In the end, I could only squeeze out two dry words. “I’m sorry.” He nodded expressionlessly, said nothing, and turned to stride out of the infirmary. I knew that not exposing me on the spot was already the last bit of dignity his upbringing allowed him to give me. But when I dragged my exhausted body home and turned on the spare phone that was almost out of battery, a message from Bobby suddenly appeared on the screen. [Babe, from now on… you should stay away from that girl named Ruby. She’s too scheming.] In that instant. I truly felt very, very sad. 9 After that incident, I tried my best to avoid any contact with Bobby. Wherever he was, I took a detour whenever I could. After all, I had sincerely loved him in secret once. I didn’t want to become a stalker or a scheming girl in his mind. As for tutoring his cousin, I casually made up an excuse and quit. Bobby’s mother was very regretful. She held my hand and tried several times to persuade me to stay. “Ruby, is your family having some trouble? Tell me, Auntie can raise your hourly pay.” At the time, Bobby was sitting on the sofa in the living room. He didn’t even lift his eyelids, flipping through an original-language book with an extremely cold tone. “Mom, can’t we just get someone else? There are plenty of people in California who know a little calculus. I don’t see what’s so great about her teaching.” His mother sighed helplessly, handed me the final check, then instructed Bobby, “It’s late. Drive Ruby home.” The boy picked up his car keys and walked out. He rolled down the window of the SUV and coldly threw out two words. “Get in.” He seemed irritated to the extreme. While waiting at a long red light, he picked up his phone and impatiently dialed a number. The next second. A muffled ringtone suddenly sounded from inside my backpack. Bobby whipped his head around. At the same time, my heart stopped. Only then did I remember. I had planned to return the spare phone to Lisa today, so I had brought it with me. The screech of brakes rang out. Under the force of the sharp turn, my head nearly slammed hard against the car window. All color drained from Bobby’s lips. His handsome brows knotted tightly as he stared at me. “You…” I forced down the heartbeat that was about to leap out of my throat and tried to squeeze out an apologetic smile. Bracing myself, I took my own old phone from my bag, pretended to press answer, and held it to my ear. “Hello, Dad? Yeah, I’m doing fine.” “School is good. My classmates take care of me too. I’ve made a few new friends. Don’t worry about me.” As those lies flowed naturally from my mouth, I suddenly discovered, sadly, that I was far calmer at lying than I had imagined. Actually, ever since I was little, I had understood one thing. There were many things in this world that never belonged to me from the very beginning, and I had no right to covet them. For example, the expensive violin in the music shop window. For example, Bobby. Bobby lowered his eyes and glanced at his own screen, still in the middle of dialing. The fleeting astonishment and complexity in his eyes finally faded little by little. By the time I hung up that nonexistent call, Bobby’s expression had returned to its usual calm indifference. “We’re here.” He stepped on the brake. I unbuckled my seat belt and nodded. “Thank you.” The veins on the back of his hand stood out slightly as he gripped the steering wheel. His gaze lingered on me for one second. In the end, he only gave a faint “Mm.” I knew I had just missed the best chance to tell him everything. But so what? I pushed open the car door and sighed so quietly it was almost inaudible. Actually, if Bobby had put just a little effort into looking up my file, he would have discovered that in my panic, I had told a lie full of holes. My father had passed away ten years ago. 10 The next day, I finally returned that troublesome spare phone to Lisa. She unlocked the screen and naturally saw the message Bobby had sent warning her to stay away from me. Lisa’s expression instantly became a little awkward. She bit her lower lip and said softly, “I’m sorry, Ruby. It’s all because I’m usually too careless… I didn’t expect him to have such a deep prejudice against you.” I gave a low “Mm.” “I didn’t expect it either.” The hallway was a little noisy, and she didn’t hear clearly. “What did you say?” I forced a smile and turned my face toward the window. “Nothing.” Just like that, my relationship with Bobby dropped completely to freezing point. Once, in the photocopied AP Physics notes Nolan lent me, I found several pages of Bobby’s handwritten problem-solving ideas tucked inside. That afternoon, I picked those pages out and walked to Nolan’s seat to hand them to him. Nolan was lying on the desk catching up on sleep. Hearing movement, he lazily raised his head. “Oh, I probably mixed them in when I was checking answers with him the day before yesterday.” He yawned. “But his handwriting is neater than mine, and his logic is clear. Keep them and use them. They’ll help with your exam.” I waved my hands abruptly as if I had touched something scalding. “No need.” “I… I’m more used to reading your notes. Your steps are more detailed.” Nolan’s pretty peach-blossom eyes instantly curved into crescent moons. He reached out and lightly flicked my forehead, laughing as he scolded me. “Fine. I’ll take that as you complimenting me in a roundabout way.” Bobby, sitting diagonally behind us, stopped spinning his pen. He lifted his eyelids slightly and glanced faintly toward us, some dark, unreadable emotion surging in his black eyes. I slapped the papers onto Nolan’s desk and walked away quickly without looking back. Behind me, Nolan hissed softly, picked up the notes, and muttered: “Hey, Bobby, why has this girl been avoiding you lately like you’re the plague? Did you bully her behind my back?” Bobby was silent for a long time. He moved his gaze coldly toward the window, his voice without the slightest fluctuation. “Who knows.”

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My fiancé, Ethan, was everyone’s idea of a flawless saint. We had been together for seven years, yet he had postponed our wedding nineteen times. Each delay came with a noble excuse: saving a drowning child, chasing a robber, or rescuing a stray cat. He would return with red eyes, pleading, “Anna, wait for me one more time.” Surrounded by the pity or schadenfreude of our guests, I always agreed. Tonight, drunk in our home, he shattered the illusion. Dressed in my twentieth custom wedding gown, I stood outside the half-closed door. He whispered to the empty air, his voice thick with longing. “Vivian, I didn’t dare hold your hand back then. But this time, I’m ready.” My nails dug into my palms as I listened to his desperate vow. “Steal me from the wedding,” he choked out. “Appear on the day, and I’ll take you anywhere.” Tears fell as he repeated the promise, oblivious to my presence. “Three days from now, we leave this place forever.” Blood from my clenched fists dripped onto the pure white silk. The crimson stain bloomed, forcing me to recall his first postponement. His guilt-ridden plea for another chance had been a lie. His selflessness was merely a mask for his favoritism. I took off my engagement ring and placed it on the entrance cabinet. Tomorrow, I will return this dress. I am done waiting. 1 Ethan was curled up at the edge of the sofa. The strong smell of alcohol mixed with the sour stench of vomit rushed toward me. I instinctively covered my nose and mouth and looked at him. He was barefoot, and the collar of his expensive shirt had been tugged completely out of shape. “Ethan?” I called him softly, my voice trembling so badly it sounded strange even to me. He didn’t respond. He only clutched a cushion tightly and muttered to himself, fragile as broken porcelain. I had never seen him like this before. For the past seven years, he had always been cold, elegant, and restrained. Even if he was only ten minutes late for a date, he would message me in advance to apologize. But now, he was so drunk he couldn’t even lift his head. His Adam’s apple moved with difficulty, and he was still stubbornly murmuring that name. “Vivian. I’m so cold.” He suddenly curled up even tighter, as if trying to squeeze himself into the cracks of the sofa. My heart clenched. Instinctively, I crouched down to help him. But the moment my fingertips touched his shoulder, he suddenly grabbed my wrist with a violent backhand. “Don’t go!” His eyes were closed as he roared hoarsely, “This time, I won’t let you leave. We’ll elope!” My tears broke free instantly. Who did he think I was? “Ethan, open your eyes and look clearly. I’m Anna.” I clenched my teeth and desperately tried to pull my hand back. He froze for half a second, then opened his drunken eyes in a haze. In those unfocused pupils, my wretched face was reflected. The next second, as if burned by fire, he violently flung my hand away, turned over, and retched against the carpet. I froze in place, watching his back as he struggled in pain. Suddenly, the last bit of tenderness left in my heart seemed laughably pathetic. I got up and went into the bathroom to wring out a hot towel. When I came back out, he was trying to climb onto the sofa, only to slide weakly back down onto the carpet. I crouched and silently wiped the cold sweat from his face. His skin was burning hot, his brows tightly furrowed. Even trapped in nightmares, he kept muttering. “Cake. She loves red velvet the most.” My hand stopped abruptly. The warm yellow light from the bathroom slanted beneath the coffee table, illuminating a hidden kraft paper envelope. As if possessed, I reached out and pulled it out. Inside was a neatly bound file. On the cover was printed a line: Vivian’s Lifestyle Preferences. I opened the first page, and my breathing stopped. “Vivian hates rainy days. Remember to keep an umbrella by the door of her studio.” “Her stomach is weak. She absolutely cannot eat spicy food. Next date should be at that upscale French restaurant.” “On the anniversary of her mother’s death, make sure to bring white roses and accompany her to the cemetery.” The edges of the paper had already grown fuzzy, clearly worn from being touched over and over again. My fingertips trembled as I turned the pages. Every page was densely packed with records of another woman’s trivial daily life. The origin of the coffee beans she loved. The indie music she played on loop while painting. Even an insignificant childhood memory she had once mentioned in passing. On the last page, there was a photo tucked inside. It was a candid profile shot Ethan had taken of Vivian. Sunlight danced across her lashes, gentle enough to inspire despair. I sank onto the cold floor and flipped through the pages one by one. Memories I had deliberately suppressed surged into my mind like floodwater bursting through a dam. Seven years ago, when my fever had reached 102 degrees, he had been busy with a merger and acquisition case. He only hurriedly left a box of fever medicine at my apartment door. He didn’t even spare the time to pour me a glass of warm water. Five years ago, when I was hospitalized after a car accident, he came every day on schedule to bring food. But whenever his phone rang with a certain ringtone, he would leave in a rush. Just last month, on my birthday, he was three full hours late. In the end, he appeared at the restaurant soaked from head to toe, only casually explaining, “I saved a drowning child on the way.” At the time, his eyes had been filled with relief and righteousness, yet he hadn’t noticed that I had stood in the cold wind all night, my stomach hurting so badly I couldn’t even straighten my back. So it turned out he wasn’t naturally unromantic. He wasn’t careless. He had simply given all his tenderness and thoughtfulness to someone else without holding anything back. I gently placed the file back where it had been, turned, went into the bedroom, and took off the heavy wedding dress. The phone in my pocket vibrated. It was the company’s final confirmation email for my overseas transfer. The destination was faraway London. The departure date was exactly three days from now. I looked one last time at the man sleeping on the floor. There was even a faint smile at the corner of his mouth. Perhaps in his dreams, he was running away with Vivian. I took a deep breath and pressed send. [Transfer accepted. Departing in three days.] This time, it was my turn to break the appointment. 2 At seven the next morning, my phone vibrated wildly on the bedside table. I was lying awake, staring blankly at the ceiling. A sleepless night had left my eyes so dry it felt as if they were covered in rough sand. “Hello?” I answered, my voice so hoarse I barely recognized it. “Anna.” Ethan’s voice carried the exhaustion of a hangover. In the background, I could hear the sound of cars rushing past. “I probably can’t make it to the final wedding dress fitting today.” My fingers tightened slightly around the phone. A faint taste of blood rose in my throat. “Mm. Okay.” “I won’t be back for dinner tonight either.” He paused, deliberately making his tone sound relaxed. “There’s an urgent project I need to catch up on.” My voice was flat. “Okay.” The other end of the line fell briefly silent. He seemed not to have expected me to be so calm. Then he switched into that tone he used to soothe a small animal. “I’ll only be busy these next few days. Don’t overthink things. I promise you, on the wedding day, I’ll be there on time. I won’t be late.” He laughed softly. Through the signal, that laugh sounded impossibly false and distant. “Stop being petty. Be good.” I closed my eyes and let tears slide silently down, disappearing into the hair near my temples. “Okay.” After hanging up, the room was swallowed by dead silence again. I opened Instagram. The private account Ethan had hidden at the very bottom of my following list suddenly showed a new update. He rarely shared private life on social media. His main account was full of industry news and official reports about charity events, cold and perfect like a fake person. But this post was completely different. [Chasing the light!] The picture showed a mountain summit at dawn, a pair of rugged hiking boots, and beside them a slender wrist wearing a baseball cap, reaching toward the camera. That wrist had delicate bones. There was a light brown mole near the joint of the pinky finger. I recognized that mole. It was Vivian. My heart felt as if it had been gripped tightly by an invisible hand. Even breathing came with a dull ache. I scrolled down. The comments were lively. Ryan: Ethan finally made a move! She’s definitely going to be moved to tears now! Owen: You should’ve done this ages ago, bro! Congrats! Don’t forget to invite us for wedding drinks! Caleb: Finally got your girl? Hahaha, congrats! Every one of those names was painfully familiar to me. When Ryan’s father had heart surgery, I was the one who ran around using my connections to contact a top surgeon. When Owen’s startup failed and he faced bankruptcy, I privately asked a headhunter friend to help him find a respectable job. When Caleb didn’t have enough for the down payment on his wedding home, I secretly used my own savings to fill the gap. They all knew. Every single one of them had known from the beginning. An absurd laugh rose in my throat, but in the end, what escaped my mouth was only a desperate sob. I numbly put down my phone and went through the motions like a programmed machine: wash up, change clothes, go to work. When I got off work, the Chicago sky was gloomy, as if it might collapse at any moment. I pushed open the apartment door. Silence followed me like a shadow. I collapsed onto the sofa and, as if possessed, opened his private account again. He had posted five updates today. 9 a.m.: [The wind at the summit was stronger than expected, but everything was worth it.] The picture showed two hands with fingers interlaced, holding a cup of hot coffee together. 10 a.m.: [She said the sea of clouds in the distance looked like spilled milk.] The picture showed Vivian from behind, her golden hair lifted by the wind. 11 a.m.: [So the sound of a heart moving is real.] The picture showed blurred sunset light and his own elongated shadow. 12 p.m.: [From now on, every year on this day, we’ll come here together.] The picture showed two pairs of shoes side by side on dew-covered grass. 1 p.m.: [Before I met you, I never looked forward to the future.] The picture showed Vivian’s delicate profile. In every photo, his eyes were shining. That kind of unreserved, scorching, passionate love was a luxury I had never possessed in these seven years. I opened my photo album and typed “Ethan” into the search bar. Only a few photos came up. Most were group photos. He was always turned sideways or wearing a stiff expression, as if every press of the shutter were an annoying KPI he had to complete. Once, during a vacation, I acted spoiled and begged him to take more photos with me. He only frowned impatiently and said, “What’s there to take? It’s too much trouble.” So it turned out he didn’t dislike taking photos. He just disliked taking photos with me. I swiped through the photos one by one. At graduation, his lips were tightly pressed together while I held a bouquet and smiled cautiously. At a birthday party, his eyes wandered. The hand he used to hold mine while cutting the cake was stiff as wood. Even the only photo in the album where he had an arm around me had been taken after I begged repeatedly. He had perfunctorily placed his hand on my shoulder, but his body instinctively kept a distance from mine. And today, he had taken an entire nine-photo grid for Vivian. Every angle and every beam of light carried the fervor of wanting to preserve her smile forever. My phone suddenly vibrated. It was a message from his main account. [The project is finally finished. A little tired. I’ll go with you tomorrow to confirm the final makeup and styling.] I stared fixedly at that line of text. An exhaustion I had never felt before swept through my entire body. Seven years of youth. Hundreds of compromises and waits. Thousands upon thousands of self-deceptions. At that moment, everything collapsed with a crash and turned to ash. I locked the screen and did not reply. 3 The next day, when the doorbell rang, I was kneeling on the carpet, packing my suitcase. Through the peephole, I saw Ethan crouching outside the door with no trace of his usual dignity. I hesitated for exactly three seconds, then opened the door. When he heard movement, he abruptly raised his head. His handsome face still carried the exhaustion of a sleepless night, but the moment he saw me, he immediately pulled out a perfect smile. Out of habit, he lifted his hand as if to ruffle my hair. But it stopped awkwardly in midair. He changed the motion into scratching the back of his head to cover it up. “Did I wake you?” “No.” I stepped aside to let him in. My gaze swept over his wrinkled shirt and the obvious mud stains on the cuffs of his trousers. He walked into the living room. His eyes fell on my open suitcase. He paused slightly but didn’t ask. He sat down by the sofa, his long legs folded in a deliberately pitiful way, his whole body radiating a carefully performed weariness. “The project wrapped up too late last night, so I slept in the office.” He lowered his voice, his tone gentle. “I was afraid you were still asleep, so I didn’t dare ring the bell. I just sat outside for a while.” My heart felt as if something had bumped against it, neither too lightly nor too heavily. If this kind of subtle thoughtfulness had happened a month ago, it would absolutely have moved me so much I couldn’t sleep all night. But now, I only found it absurd. He could cross half the city in a rainstorm to accompany Vivian to an art exhibition. He could drive hundreds of miles late at night to climb a mountain with her and watch the sunrise. Yet he didn’t even have the time to call me and say, “I won’t be home tonight.” In a daze, distant memories suddenly surged up like tidewater. At fifteen, as a transfer student who had just moved to Chicago, I sat awkwardly in the last row of the classroom and watched him run freely across the basketball court. Sunlight fell on the sweat-damp ends of his hair, coating his entire body in a dazzling golden edge. He was everyone’s sun. Bright, passionate, selflessly lighting up everyone around him. And I was only the most insignificant speck of dust in the corner. Small and dim, needing all my courage just to look up at him. So when, on the day of our high school graduation, he suddenly stuffed a note into my hand and said seriously, “I think you’re special,” I was completely stunned. That sudden, enormous happiness left me flustered. I even thought it was a dream I might wake from at any moment. To hold tightly onto that beam of light, I desperately learned to be sensible. I learned tolerance. I learned to chew up every grievance and swallow it. When he was late for dates, I smiled and said Chicago traffic was indeed awful. When he forgot our anniversary, I took the blame and said I should have reminded him earlier. When he missed the eve of our wedding again and again, I kept brainwashing myself, telling myself it was proof of his noble character. In the process, I slowly became a people-pleaser so unfamiliar that even I found myself strange. “Anna?” Ethan’s voice pulled me back to reality. He moved closer and waved his hand in front of my eyes. His deep eyes were filled with genuine worry. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?” I looked at him quietly. This face. I had looked at it for seven years and loved it for seven years. At this moment, the concern in his eyes was so real that I almost wanted to suspect everything I had seen last night had only been a nightmare. He reached out and took my hand. His palm was still warm and dry. “I promise you.” He spoke word by word, his eyes sincere like a believer confessing before a priest. “Tomorrow, I will appear on time. You should be happy and become the most beautiful bride in the world.” My eyes suddenly warmed. But my chest felt as if a huge hole had been torn open. Cold wind howled through it, and there was no echo left inside. I gently withdrew my hand and pulled out a perfect smile. “Mm. I know.” He seemed about to say something else, but the phone on the coffee table suddenly lit up. He glanced at the screen quickly and almost reflexively pressed mute, then placed the phone face down on the table. The movement was extremely fast, but I still clearly caught the notification on the lock screen. [Vivian: See you tomorrow!] He raised his head and looked at me. The smile at the corner of his mouth had already become somewhat stiff. After hesitating, he opened his arms and pulled me into his embrace, holding me tightly. My body remained rigid, like a puppet, allowing him to hold me. Outside the window, the sunlight was still bright. Golden light spilled over us, yet brought not even the slightest warmth. So when a moth decides to stop flying into the flame, that light loses all meaning to it. 4 That day, Ethan acted like the perfect, flawless fiancé. He accompanied me to try on my wedding dress, standing behind the huge floor-length mirror and giving alteration suggestions with utmost seriousness. He remembered that I was allergic to cilantro, and when ordering at the French restaurant, he naturally reminded the waiter to pay attention to the details. While walking down the street, he even took my hand first. Everything seemed exactly like the early days when we were madly in love. I quietly cooperated with the performance and did not tear through his gorgeous disguise. Only occasionally, when I met his probing gaze, I would politely smile back. At dusk, he drove me back to my apartment. Outside the car window, city lights were just beginning to glow, neon shifting and flowing. Inside the car, an old jazz song was playing, the very one that had played on the radio during our first date. Then, as the car approached a dim intersection, I saw a familiar figure standing by the road. Vivian was wearing a thin white dress, hugging her arms as she shivered in the early autumn wind. Ethan slammed on the brakes. The tires made a piercing screech against the asphalt. He abruptly turned to look at me. His eyes were filled with an extreme tension and panic I had never seen before. “Anna.” His voice was terribly tight. “That’s Vivian. A friend of mine. She’s timid and in poor health. It’s so late, and she’s standing there alone. I really can’t feel at ease…” Before he could finish, I had already calmly unbuckled my seat belt. “Go take her home.” He was visibly stunned, then urgently promised, “I’ll come back for you as soon as I take her home. It’ll be quick. Wait for me here.” I nodded and pushed open the car door. The suburban night wind was bone-chilling. I stood alone under the streetlamp, watching his black Porsche merge into traffic without the slightest hesitation. Its red taillights soon disappeared around the corner. Everything around me was deathly quiet. The dim yellow streetlamp stretched my shadow long and thin. I took out my phone and opened Uber, but the screen kept showing: No available cars nearby. Cold wind poured in through the collar of my coat, and I couldn’t help shivering. By two in the morning, he still had not returned. My phone screen suddenly lit up. It was a multimedia message from an unknown number. The moment I opened the photo, all the blood in my body froze. The background was the large bed of a luxury hotel. Ethan and Vivian were asleep in each other’s arms. She nestled against his chest like a delicate bird, her fair fingers intimately hooked around the buttons of his shirt. His eyes were closed, and at the corner of his mouth was a satisfied, relaxed smile I had never seen in these seven years. Immediately after, a second text popped up. [Thanks for stepping aside, big sister! Have a wonderful wedding tomorrow!] Expressionlessly, I locked the screen. The next morning, the car arranged by the company stopped downstairs from my apartment on time. One hour later, the Boeing 777 cut through the sky and soared into the clouds. Ten thousand meters above the ground, I quietly gazed at the churning sea of white clouds outside the window. My phone already had a new British SIM card in it. As for the old card, before the plane took off, I had thrown it mercilessly into a trash can at Chicago airport. Goodbye, Ethan. … At the same time, in the banquet hall of a top hotel in downtown Chicago. Ethan stood before the mirror in an exquisitely tailored handmade suit, a fleeting trace of guilt passing through his heart. But the moment he recalled how Vivian had woken in his arms that morning, looking so dependent and fragile, as if she could not survive without him, that tiny bit of guilt instantly transformed into peace of mind. Vivian was so fragile. She needed protection too much. Anna had always been generous and strong. She would definitely understand him. The melodious and romantic wedding march echoed throughout the hall. The host, using a passionate tone, invited the most beautiful bride of the day to enter. However, the music played on loop again and again. At the end of the red carpet, the carved double doors remained tightly closed. No one appeared. The guests began to stir and whisper. The perfect smile on Ethan’s face began to crack. He hid to one side, lowered his voice, and frantically called that familiar number, only to hear the cold notification that the phone was turned off. “Go find her in the dressing room!” He grabbed the best man by the collar and roared, finally unable to hide the panic in his voice. Just then, the side door of the banquet hall was shoved open. The makeup artist stumbled out, her face pale as paper. “Mr. Ethan… Miss Anna, she isn’t in the room at all!” Ethan stood frozen as if struck by lightning. All that remained in his ears was a sharp buzzing sound.

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