1 Recently engaged, my sister-in-law, Jacqueline, got her fingers slammed in a heavy steel security door. She needed immediate surgery to reattach them. But my mother-in-law, Beatrice, refused to allow it. Even though it was the middle of the night, she stubbornly insisted on transferring Jacqueline to the prestigious metropolitan medical center downtown. The emergency room doctor patiently explained that time was of the essence. Any delay would cause the severed tissue to die, making reattachment impossible. He assured her that even at the metropolitan hospital, only an on-call emergency physician would be available at this hour. They were fully capable of performing the procedure right here. Beatrice would not listen, digging her heels in. Watching Jacqueline writhe in agony as blood soaked through her makeshift bandages, I had pleaded with Beatrice to prioritize her daughter’s hand over her pride. Thanks to my relentless persuasion, Beatrice had finally relented and signed the paperwork. The surgery was completed just within the golden window, and the fingers were successfully reattached. But during her subsequent physical therapy, we realized that although the fingers looked perfect on the outside, they remained stiff and completely paralyzed, unable to bend. Jacqueline blamed me entirely for the outcome. She insisted I had forced her to stay at a second-rate clinic to ruin her life, claiming that if she had transferred to the city center, she would have recovered completely. One afternoon, when I was completely off guard, she cornered me and pushed me down the grand staircase of our home, breaking my neck. When I opened my eyes again, my face was burning from a sharp, stinging pain. “Slap! Slap! Slap!” Beatrice was striking me across the face, screaming at the top of her lungs, her eyes wild with fury. “Fiona, you worthless b****! Who do you think you are? Since when do you make the decisions in this family?” My head spun from the force of her blows. The harsh fluorescent lights of the hospital hallway burned my eyes, making it hard to focus. Before I could fully comprehend what was happening, the emergency room doctor stepped between us, urging, “Have you decided yet? Who is signing the consent form? Stop hesitating! Every minute you waste reduces the chances of saving the tissue. Reattaching the fingers immediately is the only priority.” The scene was eerily familiar. Wasn’t I just pushed down the stairs? Am I dead? The anxious doctor, the stubborn mother-in-law, the copper scent of blood hanging heavy in the air… I was back outside the emergency room. “I refuse!” Beatrice’s screeching voice rang in my ears. “You can forget about it! I am not giving permission for you hacks to operate on my daughter. We are transferring her!” Hearing her demand a transfer, the truth washed over me. I had been reborn. I was back on the exact day Jacqueline severed her fingers. In my past life, when I heard Jacqueline had slammed her fingers in a heavy metal door, I had rushed to the clinic with Beatrice. The doctor had examined her and said she arrived just in time. The severed digits were still viable, and immediate surgery had a very high success rate. But Beatrice had refused, calling the community clinic a second-rate dump. She demanded her daughter be sent to the downtown hospital, where the state’s most famous orthopedic surgeon was based. The emergency doctor had pleaded with her, explaining that tissue dies quickly. In the middle of the night, any hospital would only have on-call staff, and a transfer would only waste precious time. But Beatrice had sneered, claiming severed digits could easily survive for five or six hours. Pitying Jacqueline, who was screaming in the trauma bay, I had begged Beatrice to let them operate, wanting to save the young girl’s hand right before her wedding. Because of my desperate pleas, Beatrice had finally signed. The surgery went well, completed in the golden window, but the recovery was poor. The fingers remained stiff. Jacqueline spent every day cursing me, blaming me for stopping the transfer. She claimed I did it on purpose to ruin her chance at a perfect recovery, calling me a venomous curse. And then, she pushed me to my death. As I lay dying at the foot of the stairs, gasping for breath, I had begged Beatrice to call an ambulance. Instead, she and Jacqueline had stood over me, cold and mocking. “You ruined my daughter’s hand, and now you want us to save you?” Beatrice had spat. “You deserve this, you miserable b****.” I had taken my final, agonizing breath in absolute despair. Now, the heavens had given me a second chance. This time, I would not lift a finger to save her. I would watch these two wretched women destroy themselves. “A transfer is too risky,” the doctor warned again, bringing me back to the present. “The tissue will die. Even if you go downtown, you’ll only find on-call emergency staff at this hour. You’re wasting precious time.” I looked at Beatrice, quickly painting a mask of panic on my face. “Mom, I didn’t mean to overstep,” I said, my voice trembling with faux anxiety. “I’m just so worried about Jacqueline. I’m completely frantic. I don’t know what we should do. What do you think?” Seeing my apparent weakness, Beatrice scoffed, her voice dripping with arrogance. “Look at you, trembling like a leaf. You don’t get a say here anyway. We are transferring my daughter immediately.” I suppressed a cold smile. “Okay, Mom. Whatever you say.” The doctor frowned. “The risk is too high. We strongly advise against a transfer. Please sign the paperwork.” Beatrice scoffed. “I’m not letting you touch her, so why would I sign anything? Don’t I have the right to choose her care?” The doctor’s frustration grew. “This isn’t a joke. Severed fingers need to be reattached as soon as possible. Can you guarantee she won’t deteriorate on the road? Can you guarantee the tissue will survive? Can you guarantee a specialist will even be awake to operate on her downtown?” “Are you trying to force your services on us?” Beatrice snapped back, crossing her arms. “What is this, a scam? Do we have to buy what you’re selling?” “We are a licensed hospital,” the doctor replied, trying to remain professional. “We respect your choices, but we must warn you of the objective risks. Transferring her now is extremely dangerous.” But Beatrice was convinced she knew best. “You’re just trying to keep us here to boost your department’s numbers! My daughter deserves the absolute best, not this pathetic clinic.” “Our only concern is the patient,” the doctor explained patiently. “If we couldn’t handle it, we would recommend a transfer ourselves. But we can do this surgery, and a transfer will only delay her care.” Beatrice refused to listen, raising her voice to draw a crowd. “Stop threatening me! I am moving my daughter, and that is final!” She turned to glare at me. “Fiona! Are you deaf? Go help Jacqueline up! What good are you anyway?” From the treatment room, Jacqueline’s agonizing screams echoed down the hall. “Help me! It hurts so much! Please, someone help me!” Hearing her cries, I felt nothing but cold satisfaction. The longer Beatrice stalled, the better. I leaned in and whispered to Beatrice, “Mom, are we really doing this? Should we call Peter? He is her fiancé, after all.” The doctor caught this. “Yes! Call her fiancé. He should have a say in this.” Beatrice’s eyes widened in fury. She glared at me. “Fiona, why are you always stirring up trouble? What does this have to do with Peter? He’s just her fiancé. She hasn’t married him yet. Even if he were here, he wouldn’t get to make the decisions.” She kicked me hard in the shin. “Go get Jacqueline! Do you want her to sit there suffering forever?” As I walked toward the treatment room, the doctor grabbed my arm. “Please, try to talk some sense into your mother-in-law. Her daughter’s hand is at stake.” Before I could answer, Beatrice shoves the doctor. “What do you think you’re doing? Are you trying to kidnap my daughter?” I had no intention of helping her this time. I wanted Beatrice to throw the biggest tantrum possible. While they argued, I quietly slipped my phone out and sent a text to Peter, telling him to get to the hospital immediately. Moments later, my phone rang. Beatrice was too busy screaming at the staff to notice. “Fiona, what’s going on?” Peter’s anxious voice came through the speaker. “Why is Jacqueline in the hospital?” “Her fingers were severed,” I said quickly. “We’re at the community clinic. Mom wants to transfer her, but the doctors say it’s too dangerous. Can you come help us?” Before I could finish, Beatrice noticed the call. She lunged forward, snatched my phone, and ended the call. Before I could react, she grabbed me by the hair and delivered a stinging slap to my cheek. “You treacherous b****!” she screeches. “Who told you to call Peter? Are you trying to set him against me?” I played the victim, forcing tears to my eyes. “Mom, no! I just thought, since we’re transferring her, we need a car. Peter has a nice car, and he’s her fiancé. It’s only right he helps.” “It had better be just for that, or I’ll beat you senseless.” The doctor chimes in. “The fiancé has every right to know. He should be part of this decision.” “He knows now,” Beatrice snaps. “But he doesn’t make the rules in my family.” The doctor tries one last time. “As her mother, how can you watch her suffer in there? Just sign the papers so we can save her hand.” “Save your breath,” Beatrice sneers. “I am not letting you touch her.” They continued to argue, wasting another hour. While we wait for Peter, I also secretly texted my husband, Garrett. Garrett is fiercely protective of his sister. In my past life, he believed Jacqueline’s lies that I had ruined her hand out of spite, and he subjected me to years of domestic abuse. This time, I wanted to see whose side he took when his mother was the one ruining Jacqueline’s hand. Peter burst through the hospital doors, breathless and pale. The doctor quickly caught him up on the situation. Peter doesn’t hesitate. “If you can do the surgery, do it now. Let’s not waste any more time.” Hearing this, Beatrice screamed, lunging at him. “I don’t agree! Who do you think you are to make decisions for my daughter? We are transferring her!” But Peter was not one to be bullied. He shoved Beatrice back, sending her stumbling to the floor. “I am her fiancé. Of course I have a say!” Beatrice screeches from the ground, “You’re just a fiancé! She hasn’t walked down the aisle yet! You don’t own her!” Ignoring her, Peter demanded the consent form and grabbed a pen. Beatrice scrambled up, trying to snatch the pen from his hand, but Peter was younger and stronger. He shoved her down a second time. With a swift motion, Peter signed his name on the consent line. I watched in silent panic. No, this isn’t how it was supposed to go. If Peter signed, they would operate, and Jacqueline would be saved. I couldn’t let her escape her fate.

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1 Kyle Norvell was the golden heir of the billionaire elite. But at the absolute height of his youth, tragedy struck. His father and brother were killed in a devastating car crash, leaving the family fortune in the hands of greedy relatives. To make matters worse, a racing accident shortly after cost him his sight, plunging him into darkness. For three years, I disguised myself as his childhood sweetheart, Isabella, serving as his private caregiver and nursing him with utmost devotion. Finally, he was only one surgery away from reclaiming his sight. But on the night before our flight to Switzerland, Kyle threw my suitcase out of the penthouse window, his voice laced with freezing, mocking contempt. “Did you honestly think a cheap impostor like you, a gold-digging parasite, had the right to stand by my side?” I spent the next three years in a state of quiet depression before finally pulling myself together to work at a private clinic. But today, the director informed me that Kyle had just bought the entire hospital. … The first time I met Kyle, I had no idea he was my assigned patient. The massive floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse were bathed in the golden glow of a late autumn sunset. He stood with his back to me, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that seemed to catch the dying light. When he turned around, his sharp, aristocratic features and athletic frame bore the unmistakable signs of a man accustomed to luxury and rigorous discipline. He carried himself with an effortless, old-money grace that could easily make any young girl lose her mind. Everything about him was flawless, yet something felt slightly off. My gaze drifted down to his hand, which was casually resting on a black Chrome Hearts cane. It wasn’t a fashion accessory. Kyle was entirely blind. His mother, Victoria, had gone to immense lengths to find me. I was a top-tier nursing graduate who happened to share a ninety-percent match with Isabella in terms of height, voice, and facial bone structure. I was the perfect double. “Have you made up your decision?” Victoria asked. The massive pigeon-blood ruby at her throat glowed brilliantly, though it couldn’t hide the deep exhaustion etched into her face. “I am hiring you to be Kyle’s private nurse, and his fiancée. You will perform every single duty expected of a future wife.” “I understand, Mrs. Norvell,” I replied quietly. “I will do it, as long as the compensation is sufficient.” “Very well. You are a sensible girl. My assistant will wire the advance to your account immediately.” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “There are three rules. If you expose your true identity, you leave immediately. You must do everything in your power to help him recover. And most importantly, you must keep him happy.” “Yes, ma’am.” After leaving the Norvell estate, the final portion of my payment was wired to my account. With both money and time finally on my side, I could finally afford the best medical care for my sick mother. I had been carrying the burden of her illness since high school, and though I thought I was used to the stress, my body began to protest. Insomnia became my nightly companion, and my mind was constantly flooded with memories of Kyle. In an attempt to quiet my thoughts, I took up calligraphy, but my notebook quickly became filled with his name, written over and over again. My mother eventually noticed my distress and practically forced me to see a doctor. The therapist told me my heart was bruised, and that I needed to force myself back into the world. Madelyn, a senior colleague who was two years ahead of me in university, worked as the deputy director at an exclusive, high-end convalescent home. Knowing I was unemployed, she warmly invited me to join her staff. The facility was fully licensed, equipped with state-of-the-art medical technology, and situated in a quiet, wealthy suburb. It was the perfect place to heal. The work demanded absolute professionalism and patience, leaving very little room for worldly distractions. I genuinely believed that in this quiet sanctuary, I could finally put the memory of Kyle behind me. Until one quiet morning, when I opened my phone to find the news dominated by a single headline: Kyle Norvell Takes Over Norvell Group, Announces Engagement to Heiress Isabella. He was back. For three years, I had searched for any scrap of news about him, but he had seemingly vanished from the face of the earth. I had no idea if his surgery in Switzerland had been successful, or how he was coping. He had cut off any possible way for me to reach him. The media outlets were having a field day, describing Kyle and Isabella as a match made in heaven, a devoted couple who had stayed by each other’s side through the darkest of times. I stared at the photographs of them. They truly looked beautiful together, a perfect portrait of high-society royalty. “Did you honestly think a cheap impostor like you, a gold-digging parasite, had the right to stand by my side?” Kyle’s cruel, mocking voice echoed in my mind, making my chest ache. “Director Giselle! Emergency in the VIP suite! The elder Mr. Norvell has collapsed!” The frantic voice of a young nurse over the radio shattered my thoughts. I sprinted toward the VIP wing immediately. The patient was over ninety years old, suffering from advanced dementia and a fragile heart. A collapse at his age was incredibly dangerous. “Start CPR!” I ordered, rushing into the room. “Connect the AED!” We worked feverishly until the heart monitor finally stabilized into a steady, reassuring rhythm. I leaned down, speaking softly near his ear. “Sir, can you hear my voice?” His eyes fluttered open, and he offered a weak, whispered response. Only then did the tension leave my shoulders. We had acted just in time. Once the elderly gentleman drifted into a peaceful sleep, I gave the nursing staff detailed instructions and turned to go back to my office to change my clothes. But as I pulled off my medical coat and turned toward the door, a tall, imposing figure stepped into the room. Kyle. My breath caught in my throat. I forced myself to stay calm, my mind racing. What was he doing here? The elder Mr. Norvell shared his last name, so perhaps he was a relative. Fortunately, Kyle had been blind when we were together. He had no idea what I looked like. As long as I treated him like any other patient’s family member, I would be safe. I took a slow, deliberate step toward the exit, my eyes fixed on the floor to avoid any eye contact that might give me away. But just as our shoulders brushed, his deep, familiar voice echoed through the quiet room. “Thank you, Giselle.” He paused, a subtle, dangerous edge in his tone. “Or should I say, Director Giselle?” “Director Giselle, is there something on my face?” Kyle noticed my stunned silence, a look of mild amusement playing on his lips. “No… nothing at all, Mr. Norvell,” I stammered, my voice barely a whisper. “You just have very beautiful eyes.” I knew that if I stayed a second longer, my tears would betray me. I offered a quick, formal nod and practically fled the room. That night, my long-lost insomnia returned with a vengeance. I remembered the very first time I had held Kyle’s hand. I had felt the thick, jagged scar on his wrist, and his entire body had stiffened under my touch. He hated showing his vulnerability, so from that day on, I avoided his wrist entirely, sliding my hand down to lock our fingers together instead. I was young back then, completely inexperienced in love, but I gave him everything I had. I helped him through his physical therapy, managed his meals, and kept him company during long walks. One evening, as I was tucking him into bed, he suddenly caught my hand. “What is your name?” he had asked softly. The name “Giselle” almost slipped past my lips, but my professional training kicked in just in time. “What are you talking about, Kyle? It’s me, Isabella. Your fiancée.” Kyle’s smile had widened. “Right. But Isabella, what do your friends call you?” “Elle,” I lied. My family always called me Elle, and since it sounded so similar to Isabella’s nickname, Belle, I knew I would easily react to it. “Elle,” Kyle murmured, his eyes searching the darkness. “Don’t worry about the scar on my wrist. It’s not a sign of weakness. It’s my badge of honor from fighting off the wolves.” I had wondered how a blind man could perceive my silent anxiety so accurately. It was only much later that I learned the truth. Before losing his sight, Kyle had survived multiple attempts on his life. That scar was the result of a failed attempt to stage his suicide while he was unconscious. In the days that followed, I treated him normally, but when I tried to support him by his wrist again, he gently pushed my hand down, locking his fingers with mine in a warm, breathless grip. The next morning, Madelyn called me into her office to inform me that the elder Mr. Norvell was being discharged to recover at his private estate, and he had personally requested me as his exclusive caregiver. Madelyn looked incredibly apologetic. “Giselle, I hired you to be our director of nursing, so normally I would have declined this request immediately.” “But you know who Kyle Norvell is, right? He is the CEO of the Norvell Group. His grandfather is our VIP patient, and their conglomerate just became our primary shareholder. We desperately need their funding to survive the winter. I am in a very tight spot here…” Kyle’s name felt like a physical blow. Why was he demanding my presence? “I suppose your exceptional performance during the emergency yesterday caught his attention,” Madelyn sighed. “His family noticed how skilled you are.” “I understand, Madelyn,” I said, offering her a reassuring smile. “I’ll take the job. Don’t worry about it.” Madelyn was the one who had pulled me out of my dark depression, and I couldn’t abandon her now. That very afternoon, a luxury vehicle arrived to pick me up. I had expected a private chauffeur, but when the door of the Rolls-Royce Cullinan opened, Kyle was sitting in the back seat. The spacious interior felt suffocatingly small as we rode in silence. “How long have you been working at the clinic, Director Giselle?” Kyle finally broke the quiet. “About six months, Mr. Norvell. You can just call me Giselle.” “And where did you work before that?” “I was an intern at the general hospital downtown.” “Which department?” “Neurology.” “Ah. I know the head of neurology there, Dr. Reynolds. We met at a medical investment summit. How is he doing? Still busy?” “Yes, very busy,” I lied, keeping my answers as brief as possible. Kyle turned his bright, newly restored eyes toward me, his gaze incredibly focused. “I have a question, Giselle.” “When we first met yesterday, how did you know my last was Norvell?” I froze, my mind scrambling for a plausible excuse. “I… I read the patient’s family file before entering the room.” Before he could press further, his phone rang, saving me from another interrogation. “Belle,” Kyle answered, his voice instantly dropping into a low, affectionate register. “Grandfather is returning home today, so I have to manage the arrangements. Yes, I have a meeting at ten, so don’t wait up for me.” Hearing his gentle tone brought back a flood of memories. He had once spoken to me with that exact same tenderness. But of course, it had all been for the character I was playing. The real Isabella belonged to a powerful family that had been allied with the Norvells for generations. She had been busy with her studies abroad, which was why Victoria had needed an identical substitute to keep Kyle stable during his darkest hours. The car pulled into the private garage of a massive waterfront estate. This was a exclusive luxury villa by the bay, not the old Norvell manor where I had previously worked. Since this was his grandfather’s retirement home, I assumed Kyle wouldn’t visit often. Due to his advanced dementia, the elderly Mr. Norvell rarely spoke, though he occasionally surprised me with sudden bursts of clarity. In his mind, he was still a young, powerful tycoon, and he would frequently order me around as if I were his executive assistant. It took him nearly a month to remember my name, and he eventually settled on treating me like his personal secretary. Kyle visited only a handful of times, always in a rush, leaving quickly to attend various corporate events. Lately, the Norvell Group’s acquisition of a major tech firm had been dominating the financial news, with rumors suggesting Isabella’s family had played a significant role in securing the deal. Kyle was ascending to new heights, his position as CEO more secure than ever. His ambition and dreams were finally becoming reality. He had returned to his place as the darling of the elite, the trauma of his temporary blindness leaving no visible mark on him. If anything, the trial had only made him stronger. One afternoon, I was staring at the news on my phone when I heard footsteps behind me. “What has captured your attention so completely, Giselle?” I quickly locked my screen, turning to find Kyle standing right in front of me. “Nothing, Mr. Norvell. I was just about to retrieve your grandfather’s medication.” He didn’t budge, blocking my path. “I’ve noticed that you always seem to be avoiding me, Giselle.” “You’re mistaken, sir. Managing your grandfather’s care keeps me quite busy.” Kyle didn’t press the matter. He turned to greet a distinguished-looking gentleman who had just entered the villa, and the two of them walked into the grandfather’s study. A few minutes later, the elder Mr. Norvell called out, “Giselle, bring some refreshments for our guests, please.” I sliced some fresh melon and prepared a pot of robust black tea for the grandfather. Knowing Kyle never drank black tea, I automatically prepared a separate cup of delicate silver needle white tea for him. Habit has a dangerous way of exposing the truth. When I brought the tray into the study, I placed the fruit forks down, but out of sheer muscle memory, I picked up one fork and placed it directly into Kyle’s open palm. It was a small, intimate gesture we had repeated thousands of times during his blindness. The three men in the room went dead silent. Kyle stared at the cup of white tea, then looked down at the fork in his hand, his eyes darkening. “Thank you, Giselle. But as you can see, I can feed myself now.” After the guest departed, I finished my shift, grabbed a cold can of beer, and walked out onto the terrace to feel the evening breeze. Alcohol was a wonderful escape. The very first time I had ever tasted alcohol was when Kyle handed me a glass of champagne. It had been his first public appearance at a high-society gala after losing his sight. The crowd had been cruel, eager to watch a fallen king struggle. People who had once begged for his attention were whispering mocking comments just loud enough for him to hear. Ignoring the judgmental glares of the crowd, I had grabbed his hand and led him out of the suffocating ballroom, pulling him onto a quiet, spacious terrace. The moon had been brilliant that night, casting a silver glow over the deep blue sky. The faint sound of violins from the ballroom drifted up to us like a quiet lullaby. I had taken his hands and pulled him into a slow, gentle dance. I knew I was overstepping my boundaries, but in that moment, my only desire was to comfort his aching heart. When the music faded, Kyle had held me close, whispering against my ear, “Tell me what you look like tonight, Elle.” I had looked down at my outfit. Knowing I was representing his fiancée, I had spent a significant portion of my savings on a beautiful dress and styled my hair. “A black velvet dress with a folded bow at the collar,” I murmured. “My hair is in soft curls, and I’m wearing black patent leather heels.” “You must be exceptionally beautiful tonight.” “I am always beautiful, Kyle.” I had buried my face in his chest, laughing softly. “I believe you,” he had whispered, his hand gently tracing my cheek. “Elle, you have no idea how desperately I wish I could see you right now.” A sudden gust of cold wind pulled me back to the present. I took a sip of my beer, whispering to the empty terrace, “But now you can see, Kyle, and yet you still don’t see me.” The clouds above were heavy with rain. As the first drop hit my face, I turned to go inside, only to find Kyle standing right behind me. In most situations, I was quick on my feet. But when it came to Kyle, my only instinct was to run. Before I could take a step, his hand clamped around my wrist. “Do you have a moment to talk, Giselle?” “I’m sorry, Mr. Norvell, but my shift ended ten minutes ago.” “My grandfather’s symptoms have been fluctuating lately,” he said, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made it impossible to look away. “I am deeply concerned.” I relented, and we sat down together on the terrace lounge. “You were the director of nursing at the clinic,” Kyle began, his tone conversational. “With your credentials, why would you choose to humble yourself as a private caregiver for an old man?” “All nursing care is valuable, regardless of the patient’s status. I simply follow my employer’s assignments.” I had no intention of telling him about Madelyn’s financial struggles. “Is that the only reason?” “Of course not,” I said, forcing a mercenary smile. “Your family offered me three times my usual salary. I really need the money.” Kyle seemed to accept this answer, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips. “You really do love money, don’t you? Is it truly that important to you?” I thought of my mother, who had been confined to a hospital bed for over a decade, and nodded slowly. “Yes. It is incredibly important.” “Important enough to turn you into a liar?” “What do you mean?” “You claimed you worked under Dr. Reynolds,” Kyle said, his voice dropping an octave. “But when he visited today, he had absolutely no idea who you were.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I had interned at the hospital while Dr. Reynolds was completing his residency abroad, so we had never actually met. “Mr. Norvell, I was assigned to this job by the clinic. If you are unsatisfied with my performance, you can easily request a replacement.” “Still refusing to answer? Still trying to run away?” Kyle’s voice turned dangerously sharp, full of suppressed rage. “Elle… or should I say, Giselle? Money really is magic, isn’t it? It can buy your loyalty, it can make you play with a blind man’s heart, and it can make you disappear without a trace.” “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Stop playing dumb!” Kyle’s fingers dug into my shoulders, locking me in place. “You know my tea preferences, you put the fork in my hand without a single thought, and you handle my habits perfectly. Where have you been these past three years?” “You might have nursed plenty of disabled patients, Giselle, but you clearly don’t understand them.” “When a person loses their sight, their hearing becomes incredibly sensitive. From the very first word you spoke to me at the clinic, I knew exactly who you were.” The revelation shattered my composure. The tears I had been holding back spilled over, hot and uncontrollable. He had known all along. “Why are you looking at me like that?” I cried, my voice cracking. “You were the one who threw my things out and told me to leave! Why are you acting like I abandoned you?” I wanted to ask him so many things, but the words died in my throat. From the very beginning, our relationship had been built on a transaction. We belonged to two completely different worlds. I took a deep, trembling breath, forcing my features into a mask of cold indifference. “What do you want me to say, Kyle? Yes, I left you because the money ran out, and I’m here now because the money is good. It’s exactly what you thought. I am exactly that kind of person.” “Is money truly the only thing that matters to you?” Kyle’s grip loosened, his eyes filled with disbelief and a deep, agonizing pain. “Was everything we did during those three years just a job? Did you ever feel even a single shred of genuine affection for me?” The dim terrace lights cast long shadows over his face as the rain began to fall, catching on his eyelashes. He looked so vulnerable, so broken, that I almost broke my own rules to comfort him. “No,” I lied, using every ounce of my remaining strength to sound cold. “Never.” “I have to go, Mr. Norvell.” The downpour commenced in earnest. Kyle stood alone in the rain, making no move to stop me, and making no move to go inside.

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1 Ever since Wes’s first love returned, I had become the ultimate joke in our social circle: a pathetic, shameless doormat. He let her tear my clothes to shreds, rip out the bellflowers I had lovingly planted, and even ordered me to stand in a three-hour line at a trendy dessert shop in the freezing rain while I was on my period, all just to give her a “surprise.” But I wasn’t heartbroken. I couldn’t care less, because as soon as I completed the one hundred tasks he demanded of me, the system would let me return to my original world and resurrect my deceased mother. But then… A real-life vampire stared down at my half-dead body, cradled my neck in his hands, and sank his fangs deep into my throat. “From this moment on, you’re one of us.” 2 I clutched my neck, staring in absolute disbelief at the man standing before me in faded cargo shorts and flip-flops. “You… you’re a vampire?” He rolled his eyes, retracting his sharp fangs with an annoyed click of his tongue. “Why else would I bite you? For the taste?” I opened my mouth to argue, but a sudden, violent surge of energy tore through my veins, bringing with it an agonizing, bone-chilling pain. The man watched with cold indifference as I writhed on the dusty floor. He turned to leave, but I reached out, desperate, grabbing the hem of his jeans. Sweating profusely and trembling from the unbearable heat under my skin, I refused to let go. “Who… who are you? Why me?” He brushed my hand away with effortless strength, squatting down to meet my gaze. His eyes were dark pools of absolute stillness. “You don’t need to know. Just know that soon, you will be as strong as I am. This is your second lease on life. Don’t waste it.” With an effortless leap, he bounded onto the roof and vanished into the night. I stared, dumbfounded. Between the searing physical transformation and sheer mental exhaustion, my vision blurred, and I blacked out. When I finally stumbled awake, I rushed to the mirror, frantic to inspect my reflection. My face was the same, and my body hadn’t changed either. I bared my teeth, checking for fangs, but they looked perfectly normal. So where was this “strength” he spoke of? Before I could figure it out, Wes kicked the bedroom door open with a loud bang. “Gemma! Where are those peach tarts I told you to buy? Why aren’t they here yet?” His voice flared with irritation, but the moment his eyes landed on me, he froze. A flicker of genuine shock crossed his face. “Did you… do something to your face?” Makeup? Confused, I spun back toward the mirror. My jaw dropped. What in the world? Talk about a glow-up. I stared at my reflection, pinching my now-flawless, glowing skin. My complexion was radiant, completely stripped of its usual dull, exhausted yellow undertone. I looked incredibly healthy, almost ethereal. I actually had delicate, striking features, but years of chronic stress and lack of sleep had left me looking pale and drained. I had never bothered with self-care, so no one had ever called me beautiful before. Wes stepped closer, rubbing his thumb against my cheek, then staring at his clean palm in disbelief. “What kind of foundation is this? It doesn’t even smudge.” I cleared my throat, meeting his searching gaze with a flat, “I forgot.” He paused, momentarily speechless, before his usual arrogant smirk returned. He ran a hand along my jawline, his eyes darkening with a sudden, intense heat. Feeling highly uncomfortable, I took a step back and slapped his hand away. Wait. I stared at my own palm. That felt… remarkably easy. Wes blinked, slightly annoyed, and reached out to grasp my shoulder. I swatted his hand away again. After we repeated this dance about seven or eight times, Wes lost his patience. He grabbed my wrist, pulling me toward the bed. “Look, I know what happened yesterday wasn’t entirely fair to you. But think about it: Giselle’s health is fragile, and we only had one umbrella. I had to get her home safely first before coming back for you. Besides, your fever isn’t my fault. You should have stayed put and waited for me instead of running back in the storm and tripping like a fool.” I pictured the open-air restaurant, remembered the miniature pocket umbrella tucked into his jacket that he refused to share, and felt a sudden, hot spark of fury. Before my brain could even process what I was doing, I grabbed Wes’s wrist, twisted his arm, and sent him flying. He did a clean, three-hundred-and-sixty-degree spin in the air before crashing heavily onto the hardwood floor. He groaned in agony, clutching his back, while I stared down at my hands in absolute awe. Was this the vampire strength? This was incredible! Wes slowly dragged himself up, rubbing his bruised rear end. He looked at me, then scanned the room in sheer confusion. “I just fell.” I looked him dead in the eye and nodded. “I saw.” He scratched his head, his brain short-circuiting. “You threw me. Over your shoulder.” I shook my head, gesturing to my slender, fragile-looking frame, and managed to squeeze out a few pathetic tears. “Do you really think… I’m capable of that?” He stared at the tears on my cheeks and ran a hand through his hair, looking thoroughly vexed. “I didn’t mean it like that, but…” Just then, his phone rang. 3 My ears twitched. The muffled voice from the speaker sounded as clear as if it were on speakerphone. It seemed my hearing had also been dialed up to superhuman levels. Remembering all those vampire movies, I wondered if I had super speed or teleportation too. Testing the theory, I willed myself to move. In a blink, I was standing directly behind Wes. He hung up, spun around to say something, and nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw me standing inches from his face. “Jesus!” he shrieked, tossing his phone into the air and letting out a string of curses. We locked eyes, and my hand shot out automatically, catching the falling device with flawless precision. Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. Once he recovered, he snatched his phone back and frowned. “How did you… whatever. I have to head over to Giselle’s. Stay here and behave. I’ll deal with you when I get back.” With that, he rushed out of the room. The moment the front door clicked shut, I dashed over to the kitchen counter, grabbed a sharp paring knife, and sliced it hard across my forearm. Nothing. Not a single spark of pain. Crimson blood welled up, but within seconds, it coagulated, and the skin knit itself back together until it was smooth and flawless again. “Yes!” I pumped my fist, grinning from ear to ear. Super strength, acute hearing, insane speed, enhanced beauty, instant healing, and zero pain? This was the ultimate cheat code. With these powers, no matter how miserable Wes and Giselle tried to make my life, they couldn’t actually hurt me anymore. I honestly wanted to track down that flip-flop-wearing vampire and buy him a drink. While I was celebrating my new reality, Martha, the housekeeper, pushed the door open carrying a warm bowl of chicken soup. “Miss Gemma, you had such a terrible fever yesterday and mentioned wanting soup. I brewed some fresh chicken broth for you.” I gave her a bright smile and took the bowl. “Thank you so much, Martha.” She watched me drink it down, her face tight with sympathy. “Miss Gemma, Mr. Wes left a message before he went out. He wants you at Crescent Estate tonight.” I wiped my mouth. My body gave a brief, instinctual shudder at the mention of that place, but I quickly reminded myself: I was a vampire now. There was absolutely nothing to fear. Martha’s eyes softened with pity. She let out a heavy sigh, took the empty bowl, and walked out. I walked over to the wardrobe, reluctantly peeling off my pajamas. If I could do it all over again, I would never have chosen Wes as my target. To put it simply, my life back home was a mess: a dead mother, a gambling addict of a father, a furious little Maltese, and a hopelessly optimistic me. Since I was three, my father had routinely beaten my mother. I would huddle in the corner, clutching our terrified Bichon Frise, crying my eyes out. My mother never fought back, yet strangely, she rarely showed any bruises. Things took a dramatic turn when I was six. My father had accumulated hundreds of thousands of dollars in debt. Having no money to pay, he decided to hand me over to his creditors as collateral. But before his hands could touch me, my mother swatted him away like a fly and kicked him square in the ribs. That was the day I discovered my mother held a black belt in martial arts. Terrified of her, my father bolted out of the house. In his drunken panic, he tripped, fell into a deep lake, and drowned. When the police delivered the news, my mother merely sighed with relief. She scooped up our dog in one arm, grabbed my hand with the other, and we boarded a bus to a quiet town in the next county. Usually, kids from broken homes like mine end up with deep psychological trauma. But I was stubbornly resilient. I didn’t just survive; I thrived, becoming a little ball of chaotic energy. My mother always called me her little troublemaker. She had a sharp tongue but a heart of gold. Though she pretended to find me exhausting, I could always coax a smile out of her. I knew she didn’t know how to express love, but that was fine. I was willing to teach her. But during my sophomore year of college, a reckless driver took her away from me. When it happened, the pain was so sharp I couldn’t even weep. I just sat on the floor, clutching her framed photo, howling at the empty walls. Desperate and broken, I, a lifelong atheist, clung to a ridiculous rumor. I crawled on my knees from the base of a sacred mountain all the way to its peak, begging any god who would listen to bring my mother back. And then, the system appeared. It told me that if I traveled to another dimension, bound myself to a target, and completed one hundred of their absolute commands, I would be sent back home to my mother, alive and well. Seeing my dazed expression, the mechanical entity had sighed. “If I weren’t desperate to meet my year-end quota, I wouldn’t waste my time with a kid like you.” I had sighed too, but answered with total sincerity: “Thank you.” I really meant it. After rehoming our little dog with a trusted friend and shedding a few final tears, I was enveloped in a brilliant light and transported to this world. As for why I had bound myself to Wes… Naturally, it was because before his first love returned, he had played the perfect gentleman. He was incredibly good at it. So good that I had almost fallen for him. Too bad that sweet facade only lasted a year before Giselle made her grand entrance. 4 The moment she returned, she stormed into the villa, dragged me out of bed by my hair, and slapped me across the face without a single word. Wes had immediately rushed to her side, cradling her slightly reddened palm and blowing on it gently, utterly ignoring my humiliation. Watching Wes grovel like a whipped dog, only one word came to mind: Simp. From that moment on, I was Gemma 2.0: completely emotionally detached, armor on, feelings off. And I stuck to it. For the past year, I had treated Wes strictly like an annoying boss. If he told me to jump, I asked how high. It was degrading, sure, but it was all for my mother. Nothing else mattered. Now, I was just one task away from freedom. I took a deep breath, staring at my reflection. One hour later. I deliberately put on a garish cherry-red blouse and a pair of obnoxious, sequined silver trousers for my trip to Crescent Estate. Wes’s eyes were highly sensitive, and he absolutely loathed bright colors, especially anything glittering or loud. I couldn’t outright disobey his summons, but I could certainly make his eyes bleed. Humming a little tune, I applied a thick coat of bright crimson lipstick and headed out. When I arrived, the two of them were snuggled on the sofa, acting as if the rest of the world didn’t exist. Seeing me enter, Giselle’s eyes darkened with annoyance, though she quickly masked it with a sweet, fake smile. “Oh, Gemma, you’re finally here.” Wes took one look at my outfit, winced, and immediately began rubbing his temples. I took a calculated step forward, positioning myself directly in his line of sight so my sequins could catch the light. “Mr. Wes, you called for me?” Wes winced, turning his face away entirely. I took another two steps to the side, maintaining a polite, flawless grin. After I adjusted my position a few more times, Wes’s face went from pale to green. Finally, with a wretched heave, he threw up directly onto Giselle’s lap. She shrieked, catapulting off the sofa like a launched rocket. “Get this off me! Clean it up! It’s disgusting!” Housekeepers scrambled into the room with mops and rags, frantically trying to scrub the stains off the sofa and floor. While everyone was distracted, I used my super speed to slip behind the sofa. Leaning close to Giselle’s ear, I whispered, “Would you like me to fetch a clean change of clothes for you, miss?” Giselle let out another blood-curdling screech, her hand flying up to slap me. I dodged it effortlessly. Trembling with rage at my innocent expression, she grabbed Wes’s arm and shook it violently. “Wes! Gemma is tormenting me!” Wes, still fighting the urge to gag, gently pulled his arm away. “Giselle, calm down.” He turned his gaze toward me, his expression a complicated mix of irritation and exhaustion. “Gemma. Apologize to Giselle.” I bent at a perfect ninety-degree angle, performing the gesture like a soulless robot. “I am deeply sorry, Miss Giselle.” Wes’s stiff expression softened slightly. He pulled me closer and patted my head. “Good girl.” Giselle’s eyes flared with jealousy. She pulled Wes back to her side, whining, “A simple apology isn’t enough. Where’s the sincerity? I want to see a sea lion dance.” I glanced at the empty, decorative pool in the courtyard and rubbed my nose. “But there aren’t any sea lions here.” She sniffed, rolling her eyes. “You idiot. I mean you. Go jump in and perform.” My jaw dropped. I stared at her, wondering if I had misheard. Wes hesitated for a moment, but under Giselle’s sweet, coaxing gaze, he yielded. He cast a flat look in my direction, gesturing for me to comply. I stared at him, letting my eyes pool with tears until he looked away, clearly feeling a twinge of guilt. I knew playing the victim wouldn’t change his mind, but I had to keep up appearances. I couldn’t let them think I enjoyed being their personal entertainment. Standing at the edge of the pool, I took a deep breath. Just as I prepared to leap, Wes called out, “Make sure your right foot hits the water first.” I turned back and nodded politely. But before I could jump, he stopped me again. “Wait, that blouse you’re wearing belongs to Giselle, doesn’t it? Try not to get it wet, or she’ll be upset.” Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to jump into a pool and keep my clothes dry? He was just being an absolute prick. Gritting my teeth, I took a half-step forward, only for Wes to open his mouth once more. “Don’t make a big splash. I don’t want any water hitting Giselle.” Giselle smirked, tugging at his jacket while pretending to play nice. “Maybe we should think of something else…” Wes wrapped an arm around her shoulders and waved his hand dismissively. “No, let her jump. It’s fine.” “But…” 5 I watched their little back-and-forth, fighting a sudden, overwhelming urge to burn the entire estate to the ground. Without wasting another second, I jumped. Splash. The autumn air was crisp and the water was freezing, but my new vampire physiology kept me completely insulated. I didn’t feel a thing. Since I couldn’t avoid it, I decided to make it a show. I launched into a bizarre aquatic routine. Butterfly stroke, breaststroke, backstroke, doggy paddle; I did them all. I even invented a style I called the “monkey paddle.” I bobbed up and down, thrashing around wildly and letting out a few quiet monkey screeches to lighten the mood. Honestly, if I weren’t a vampire, half of these acrobatic moves would have drowned me. Suddenly, I caught Wes’s gaze and froze. He was sitting in his chair, completely drenched from head to toe. As we locked eyes, he slowly opened his mouth and spat out a stream of pool water. “Gemma,” he muttered, his voice dripping with venom. “Care to explain what kind of ‘sea lion’ does that?” I gripped the wet tiles, tilting my head innocently. “I thought it was quite accurate.” He let out a weary, defeated sigh and waved me off. “Just… get out of there.” The moment my feet touched the deck, a heavy, oversized robe was thrown over my head, accompanied by Wes’s annoyed voice. “Put that on.” Giselle produced a heavy plastic massage mallet from somewhere, tossing it onto the concrete before me. “Perform a trick with this, and we’ll call it even.” I squatted on the ground, my heart racing with excitement. This was it. Wes’s hundredth demand. I was finally going home. The sheer joy brought a wide, silly grin to my face, but a sharp tap to my forehead brought me crashing back to reality. Wes had flicked my forehead hard. “Hurry up and perform!” I pursed my lips, ready to snap, but then a delicious, dark idea took root in my mind.

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Chapter 1 When I found out my boyfriend, Julian, had bought expired tampons for me, I wanted to go to the store to get a refund. But the moment I looked closely at the receipt, my heart sank. The receipt listed strawberries, red wine, and condoms—none of which I had seen. The only thing in the bag he brought home was that single pack of expired tampons. The store address wasn’t the local supermarket downstairs, either. It was a Costco eighteen miles away. A few minutes after I called the store to complain, Julian rushed out the door. I followed him. From a distance, I saw him—usually so calm and composed—arguing frantically with a manager. “If you fire her, you’re going to lose your entire team’s bonus!” Julian pressed anxiously, “What do I have to do for you to let her keep her job?” The manager replied: “Unless the customer retracts their complaint.” With that, the manager dialed my number. Julian grabbed the phone from him, his voice full of desperation. “Hello…” I stood a short distance away and spoke calmly: “I’m sorry, but I won’t retract my complaint.” Both men whipped around at the sound of my voice. It turned out that the woman he was throwing away his dignity to protect… was my recently divorced best friend. … Chloe’s face instantly went deathly pale. She stammered out a panicked explanation: “Serena, please don’t misunderstand! Julian and I just happened to run into each other here.” She was hiding half her body behind Julian, her fingers delicately hooking onto the edge of his shirt, giving it two gentle tugs. I knew that little habit of hers. She did it whenever she was scared. Back in high school, when we got cornered by some guys in the hallway, that was exactly how she held onto me. The desperate, pleading look Julian had just seconds ago vanished completely. His brows knitted tightly together. “Since when did you become someone who goes out of their way to make life hard for people?” The credit card he used to pay was mine. I had every right to file a complaint. I walked closer to Chloe. A wave of citrus scent hit my face. It was the exact same scent that had been lingering on Julian lately. When I asked him about it out of curiosity, he just said it was the hand soap in the university bathrooms. Now it all made sense. My chest tightened with a sharp, undeniable pain. Seeing that I wasn’t answering, impatience flared in his eyes. “Hurry up and retract the complaint. Chloe worked really hard to get this job.” With every word Julian said, Chloe’s face grew paler. She and her ex-husband were already divorced, but they were still fighting a brutal custody battle. If she lost her job, the judge would almost certainly award custody to her ex. I handed the receipt to Julian. I didn’t even mention the expired tampons. “The items on this receipt are missing. I’ll retract the complaint when I find them.” Chloe practically swayed on her feet. Julian looked at the receipt, his expression complex, his lips pressed into a thin line. I walked behind the checkout counter on my own and found the “missing” strawberries, red wine, and condoms. They were in a canvas tote bag. A bag I recognized instantly—it was Chloe’s. I retracted the complaint. The manager bowed repeatedly in thanks. As we walked out of the store, Julian quickly caught up to me and grabbed my wrist. “I came out here this afternoon to look at a research site. I only found out Chloe was working here when I walked in. Please don’t misunderstand.” His expression was entirely candid. But he didn’t explain why those items were in Chloe’s bag, nor why he had rushed out to defend her without saying a single word to me. The lingering scent of citrus in the air made my stomach violently churn. “Okay. I don’t misunderstand.” Julian let out a visible sigh of relief, completely missing the faint tremor in my voice. “Let’s go back together, then.” He said that to Chloe. The sky suddenly opened up, pouring rain. Julian took off his jacket and held it over Chloe, shielding most of her body. The two of them huddled together and ran into the rain. Chloe’s hand naturally, smoothly rested on the small of his back. It wasn’t until Chloe was settled in the passenger seat and Julian was in the driver’s seat that he finally remembered I was still standing by the store entrance. He rolled down Chloe’s window, his hand considerately hovering over her head to keep the rain from blowing in. “Hurry up and get in! It’s coming down hard.” Chloe, seemingly realizing how this looked, playfully swatted his hand away. “Go get Serena! Don’t you know how to be a good boyfriend?” Then, she nudged his chest with her elbow, exactly like a flirting, honeymoon-phase couple. My eyes suddenly stung with unshed tears. I didn’t wait for Julian to come out. I just opened the back door and got in myself. It was stuffy inside the car. The AC was set to 77 degrees. Julian and I both ran hot; we always kept the car at 72. But Chloe got cold easily. Chloe handed me a towel. I had never seen it in Julian’s car before. “Quick, dry off.” She reached out to turn down the AC, but Julian stopped her. “Last time you caught a cold, you coughed for over a week. Don’t be stubborn. I’m not staying up half the night to coax you through it again.” We had a system. Julian always set the morning alarms. But last month, for over a week, his phone was completely dead by the time we woke up. I had told him he needed a new battery. But it turns out, it was just dead from talking to Chloe on the phone half the night. The tears fell before I could stop them. I hurriedly used the towel to wipe my face. Chloe pulled her hand back, looking a bit awkward. “You’re just worried about Serena, aren’t you? You really are the perfect boyfriend.” Julian’s face tightened. He let out a muffled, “Mhm.” Silence fell over the car. I thought he was going to drive Chloe home. Instead, he pulled up to a hot pot restaurant. Back in college, we both worked at a hot pot place. To save money for tuition and dorm fees, we often ate the leftover, untouched food after customers left. He swore back then that once he made real money, he would never step foot in a hot pot restaurant again. This was Chloe’s favorite spot. After we ordered, the waiter asked: “Mr. Sterling, do you want two extra tomatoes in the broth like usual?” That was Chloe’s specific habit. The waiter didn’t ask Chloe; he asked Julian. Which meant they came here together. Often. I sniffled quietly. Julian nodded. When the tomato broth was brought to the table, Chloe offered a sheepish smile: “Julian is so thoughtful. Serena just loves sweet and sour flavors.” Looking at the bowl of tomato soup she placed in front of me, I felt nothing but pure irony. I pushed the bowl aside. “This soup is too sour. I don’t like it.” Chloe bit her lower lip, her face twisting into an expression of conflicted agony. After we finished eating, Chloe habitually reached for the handle of the passenger door. I grabbed the edge of the door first. “Chloe, you should go home by yourself.” Her apartment was less than two blocks from the restaurant. Julian instantly frowned. “It’s late. I’m not comfortable letting Chloe walk alone. I’ll walk her. If you’re busy, you can head back first.” Chloe immediately objected: “I can walk myself! You take Serena home. Please don’t fight with her because of me.” She lowered her head, her eyes brimming with endless, unspoken grievances. Julian’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His face was full of heartache and anxiety. Watching the two of them play this agonizing game of hidden longing, it felt like a giant hand was squeezing my heart, suffocating me. When we got home, Julian dropped a casual “I’m gonna shower first” and walked into the bathroom. His phone on the nightstand lit up. I picked it up. Passcode incorrect. It wasn’t the date he got his university offer anymore. Guided by some dark intuition, I typed in Chloe’s birthday. The phone unlocked. I used to joke that he should change his passcode to my birthday. He called me a “cliché girlfriend.” But somehow, without me knowing, it had already been changed to Chloe’s. My chest felt entirely hollowed out. A message popped up from Chloe: “I’m home. Don’t worry about me.” That was the only message in their chat history. There was no other trace of anything. I checked his banking app. And my heart stopped. The $250,000 we had saved up together… was completely gone. At that moment, my hands were shaking violently. The transaction was from a week ago. The memo read: “Summit Realty.” I remembered Chloe telling me that a house in the premier school district cost $300,000. But if a married couple bought it with a marriage certificate, they qualified for a $50,000 subsidy. So… they had already secretly gotten married behind my back. That $250,000. We saved it together to buy a nice apartment in the city. Julian and I had slept under overpasses, in damp basements, on park benches… During the hardest times, we literally starved ourselves just to scrape together fifty bucks to put in that account. The only thing that kept me going was the dream that one day, we would live in a nice house and have a home that truly belonged to us. I slumped against the wall, my limbs completely numb, every ounce of strength drained from my body. When Julian got into bed, he lay beside me and pulled me into his arms, just like he always did. “Are you jealous?” He asked tentatively. “I just forgot those things at the store. Chloe held onto them for me and called me to come get them. We just happened to run into you.” I wanted to ask him, so badly, how he could deliver a lie with such calm, unshakeable composure. “Julian,” I swallowed down the metallic taste of blood in my throat. “If I asked you to marry me right now, would you say yes?” The air in the room went dead silent for a split second. “Yes.” But his arm around my waist loosened just a fraction of an inch. “I’m just kidding.” After I said that, his tone became noticeably lighter. “Alright. Let’s go to sleep.” This was our tenth year together. He knew better than anyone how desperately I wanted a home. Behind me, his soft snoring began. But my tears had already soaked the pillow. Late that night, the sound of a voice woke me up. Julian was standing on the balcony, a cigarette glowing dimly between his fingers. “Don’t worry… she didn’t give me a hard time.” I didn’t catch the rest of what he said. Probably some sweet, intimate pillow talk. Because that gentle, adoring tone used to belong exclusively to me. My heart was completely, utterly dead. My phone screen lit up with a reminder for an unanswered email. It was an opportunity for junior faculty to attend a three-year academic fellowship in Boston. Before, I thought Julian and I had stable jobs, that we would probably get married soon, and I didn’t want to do long-distance. But now, none of those things mattered anymore. I opened the email and typed my reply: “Serena Davis. Attendance confirmed.” After the fellowship in Boston, there would be an opportunity to secure a permanent teaching position there. So, I went to the university to process my resignation. “I thought you were planning to stay in Seattle and get married to your boyfriend? Why the sudden decision to go to Boston?” A colleague asked curiously. “He’s moving out of state. We broke up.” I casually lied. To “avoid conflicts of interest,” Julian had never let us go public with our relationship. “Aw, that’s a shame,” my colleague sighed. “Long-distance is brutal. That’s why I’m so jealous of Dr. Sterling! Being able to secure a faculty position for his spouse—how lucky is that? Getting to work together every day.” My mind went completely blank. When Julian first got hired, I had jokingly asked if he could use his status as a Ph.D. hire to get me a position at the university too. He had flatly, strictly refused: “I am a professor. I have to set an example. Do not push your entitled, privileged mindset onto me.” I walked toward Julian’s office. He had just finished processing Chloe’s onboarding paperwork. When she saw me walk in, Chloe instinctively shrank behind Julian. I smiled. “We’ve been best friends for twenty years. Do you really have to act so terrified of me?” “Serena, please don’t misunderstand. I have my reasons…” Before Chloe could finish, Julian pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. “Because of your complaint, Chloe was humiliated and gossiped about at the supermarket. That’s why I helped her find a job here.” “It’s not easy for her, being all alone. She just wants to win custody of her child.” Chloe’s soft, pathetic sobs echoed from behind him. I looked dead at Julian: “She did it for custody. What did you do it for?” “Serena!” Julian’s voice was freezing cold. “Chloe is your best friend. How can you think so lowly of us?” You gave her the house, the job, and the marriage certificate. And I’m the one who’s thinking lowly of you? My legs almost gave out. All the suffocating grievance and hatred I had swallowed poured out: “You two are the people I trusted most in the world! You went behind my back and slept together, and you’re asking me what I’m supposed to think?!” Smack. Julian’s hand struck my face. Chloe looked terrified and rushed forward to hold me. “Julian, apologize to Serena right now!” “I…” Julian stared at the red handprint blooming on my cheek, his eyes suddenly filling with guilt. I shoved Chloe away. She suddenly fell backward, her waist crashing into the edge of a desk. “Chloe!” Julian lunged forward, catching her and pulling her aside. As he did, a mug of scalding hot water on the desk was knocked over, splashing entirely onto my leg. I trembled from the searing pain. “Are you hurt?!” Chloe shook her head while leaning into his chest. “Check on Serena first.” Julian shot me a look of pure ice: “She put her hands on you. She got exactly what she deserved.” My leg was burning, but my heart was completely, permanently frozen. “That $250,000. Half of it is mine. Give it back.” I couldn’t stop the sob from breaking through my voice. Hearing that, Julian didn’t look surprised. He just scoffed. “So you came to the university and caused a scene just for money?” He pulled his wallet out and threw two bank cards directly at my face. “Is this enough for you?” “You know perfectly well how much Chloe has suffered trying to get divorced and win back her kid.” “It’s just an apartment in a good school district. Serena, when did you become so horribly selfish?” I stared at him. My cheek was still numb, and I could no longer feel the agonizing pain in my chest. A few seconds later, I let out a manic, borderline hysterical laugh. Julian wrapped a protective arm around Chloe’s shoulders. “You look like a complete lunatic right now.” They had been gone for a long time before I finally left the campus. I went back to the apartment and packed my bags. My flight was early tomorrow morning. As long as I made it through tonight, I could start a brand new life. Just as I was dragging my suitcase down the stairs, Chloe ran into the building, sobbing uncontrollably. “Serena, please… I’m begging you, help me…” She dropped to her knees in front of me and grabbed my hands. “The high school alumni group is having a reunion tonight. Mark is forcing me to go. He said if I don’t show up, I’ll never see my kid again…” Since Chloe and Mark divorced, the custody issue had been a nightmare. Mark frequently got violent with her, so she was terrified to see him alone. I had accompanied her to almost all of her court hearings. I pulled my hands away and took a deep breath: “You can ask Julian to go with you.” The light in Chloe’s eyes vanished. “I… Julian and I don’t have that kind of relationship.” “Please, Serena, I’m begging you. Just come with me this one time. I won’t take that house! I’ll give it back to you, okay?!” “I can’t lose my baby!” In the end, I couldn’t bring myself to be completely heartless. After all, I had watched her child grow up. He even called me his godmother. When we arrived at the reunion, I was shocked to see Julian there too. Our high school class president rushed over to greet us: “We were just waiting for our two beautiful ladies! Chloe, since you used to have that huge crush on Julian, I invited him too! Hope you don’t mind?” In high school, Chloe was the one who passed all the love letters between Julian and me. Over time, everyone just assumed that Chloe was the one secretly pining for him. Chloe looked down, feigning a bashful smile: “No… I don’t mind.” “Come on, come on, tell us what happened with you two after graduation!” They were swarmed and pushed into the center of the crowd. At a high school reunion, they were the stars of the show. Meanwhile, I—the actual girlfriend—looked like the third wheel. And Julian made absolutely no attempt to clarify things. Realizing how pointless this was, I decided to head to the restroom and then go straight home. On my way down the hall, I ran into Mark. He was reeking of alcohol. “S-Serena?” “You’re the bitch who made my wife divorce me! Tell me… are you secretly in love with me or something?” Looking at his disgusting, lecherous eyes, I felt violently sick to my stomach. I tried to turn and leave, but he blocked my path. “Spend the night with me, and I’ll give the kid back to Chloe. Deal?” Panic flared in my chest. I frowned and shoved him away. But he grabbed my arm and violently yanked me against his chest. “Stop playing hard to get! Let’s see who’s tighter… you or Chloe!” “You bastard! Let go of me!” My screams drew people out of the private room. Seeing the scene in the hallway, Chloe suddenly let out a horrified shriek: “Serena! How… how could you try to seduce Mark?!” Instantly, hushed whispers rippled through the crowd: “No wonder she was acting so sketchy when we asked her why she got divorced… turns out her husband was sleeping with her best friend.” Julian shoved Mark away and turned to interrogate me: “What the hell is wrong with you?!” Before I could even open my mouth, Chloe started acting like she was going to bash her own head against the wall: “The two people I love most in the world betrayed me! What’s the point of even living anymore?!” Julian grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “Man, Chloe has it so rough. A single mom raising a kid… who knows what else she’s gonna have to go through.” “Yeah, really. Who’s gonna want a divorced woman with a kid?” Hearing the crowd, Chloe put on an even bigger show of wanting to die: “Let me go! Just let me die!” Julian held her tightly against his chest: “You still have me… you still have me!” He comforted her, completely oblivious to the fact that I was still trapped by Mark just a few feet away. I violently shook Mark off, marched up to Chloe, and raised my hand. Before my hand could even connect, Julian shoved me backward with terrifying force. The back of my head slammed against the hardwood floor. A shard of broken glass sliced deep into my palm. “Are you having another psychotic episode?!” He roared at me. Chloe was sobbing uncontrollably: “Julian, what am I going to do now? What am I going to do…” “Don’t be scared. It’s okay. I’m right here.” Julian pulled a velvet box out of his pocket. It was the exact ring I had shown him before—the one I loved. He had told me the diamond was “too big” and “too flashy.” Right then and there, he dropped to one knee in front of Chloe. “Even if the whole world abandons you, you will always have me.” I laughed. A bitter, agonizing laugh. When I had poured my heart out to him about the trauma of my abusive childhood, he had said those exact same words to me. I thought he was a god sent from heaven to save me. But I didn’t realize… gods don’t just save one person. A high school reunion morphed into a proposal for the “high school sweethearts.” The crowd erupted into applause. Under the spotlight, they wrapped their arms around each other and kissed. Hearing the wail of police sirens outside, Mark had already fled the scene. I dragged my bleeding, bruised body out of the bar and into the night…

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Chapter 1 The third time Arthur burst through the door to catch me in bed with another man, I didn’t panic, scramble for my clothes, or beg to explain like I did the first two times. Elena, the head legal counsel for Sterling Enterprises, stood at the front of the group. “Ms. Davis, this is your third instance of marital infidelity.” “According to your prenuptial agreement, you will forfeit all marital assets and relinquish custody of your child.” Arthur had long since lost his patience. The look in his eyes was filled with pure, visceral hatred. He threw the divorce agreement down on the table in front of me: “The first time, you said you didn’t even know the guy.” “The second time, you said you had no idea how you ended up in a hotel room.” “Three strikes. What the hell is your excuse this time?” He thought I was going to scramble for some pathetic, clumsy lie. But I didn’t say a single word. I just quietly picked up a pen and signed my name on the dotted line. And then, I walked out of his life forever. But why is it that when I finally gave him exactly what he wanted—walking away with nothing, not even our child—he completely lost his mind? … Elena immediately snatched the signed agreement away. As if terrified I might change my mind, she turned to Arthur and said, “Mr. Sterling, it’s signed.” Arthur stared at me, his brows knitted tightly together. He was probably waiting for me to tear the papers up like I did the last two times. Waiting for me to drop to my knees, bang my head against the floor until it bled, and sob, “Please, just believe me, for our son’s sake!” … I capped the pen and set it gently back on the desk. “I’ll have my things moved out as soon as possible. As for visitation rights—” “You don’t deserve to be a mother,” he cut me off, his voice dark and heavy. “You are never seeing him again.” I didn’t look up. I just offered a small smile. “I was just about to say… I don’t want visitation rights either.” The coldness in Arthur’s eyes didn’t waver. But he did give me a long, hard look. As if he couldn’t figure out where this sudden, decisive compliance was coming from. For the past four years, he and our son had been my entire world. I used to cry for half the day just because my son called Elena “Auntie” one too many times. For me to just walk away without a fight—it wasn’t like me. “Slut,” he sneered, seemingly having found a logical explanation for my bizarre behavior. “To run off with some random guy, you’d even abandon your own flesh and blood.” “So what was all that scheming to climb into my bed and have my kid for, anyway?” Listening to his venom, I felt absolutely zero desire to defend myself. The first time he caught me “fooling around” in a hotel, I was completely disoriented. I desperately tried to explain that I hadn’t done anything to betray him. He had always been absolutely certain that I was helplessly devoted to him. And since the man I was supposedly sleeping with had fled before anyone saw his face—leaving only a blurry silhouette on the hotel’s security cameras—Arthur begrudgingly chose to believe me. But he still took my son away from me. To see him for my one allowed visit per month, I had to schedule it a week in advance with Elena. And when I did see him, Elena would hover behind me, “chaperoning” the entire visit. I even had to check her facial expressions just to hold my own baby a little longer. Every toy or piece of clothing I bought for him had to be approved by Elena first. If she didn’t approve, it never made it to my son. My mental health took a massive hit. Then, I was caught “cheating” for the second time. I had taken a part-time job just to get out of the house. On a business trip, I somehow ended up in a strange hotel room in a haze. When I woke up, a repulsive, overweight man was lying next to me, literally drooling. I called the police, but after the female officer examined me, she confirmed I hadn’t been assaulted. The facts were right there in black and white, but Arthur remained convinced that I simply hadn’t had the time to “commit the crime.” After that, I wasn’t even allowed to attend my son’s kindergarten parent-teacher conferences. Every time there was a school event, Arthur sent Elena. He told me to stay home and “stop embarrassing the family.” When my own son pointed at my nose and called me a “bad woman,” Arthur just stood by and said absolutely nothing. And now, the third time… I was tired of playing this cat-and-mouse game. I was ready to give them what they wanted. And yet, he has the nerve to ask me why I’m abandoning my child? Elena stepped quickly to his side, lowering her voice as she reminded him: “Mr. Sterling, even though the agreement stipulates she forfeits custody… I’ve been a lawyer for a long time, and I have never seen a mother give up her own child this easily.” “If she’s bold enough to cheat this many times, she probably planned for this outcome all along. After all, dragging a kid around would really cramp her style… I wouldn’t waste my breath trying to talk sense into her.” After she finished, she glanced at me, a flicker of heavy calculation in her eyes. I let out a soft laugh. She seemed to have forgotten… Four years ago, she was the one who drafted this absurd prenuptial agreement, right down to specifying the exact number of allowed “infidelities.” Arthur’s face grew even colder. “You better stick to your word. Don’t come crawling back to me on your knees later.” With that final threat, he turned on his heel and walked out. I watched his retreating back and gave a slight, bitter smile. I won’t, Arthur. Years ago, to convince myself that accepting you was the right choice, I visited every single church in the city, praying for guidance. Every fortune I drew was a terrible omen. I eventually traveled three thousand miles away and knelt on the cold stone floor of a temple for a day and a night, until I finally drew a fortune that read: “A destined match from heaven; question not the origin.” I never imagined that my “destined match” would turn out to be a curse. This time, my knees will never bend for you again. Elena looked at me, the corners of her mouth curling up slightly. “Well, Ms. Davis, time is money. We’ll leave you to it!” The moment the door clicked shut, the room fell silent again. I looked down at the man still passed out on the bed. A wave of intense nausea churned in my stomach. I had woken up long before him. I didn’t have to sit here and wait for them to burst in and catch me. But I was just so exhausted by this endless, pathetic game. So I waited. I pulled on my coat and walked out the door without looking back once. The next evening, I returned to the estate to pack my things. When I opened the door to the master bedroom, I realized that everything I owned, everything I used, was completely gone. The housekeeper stammered, avoiding my eyes: “Ma’am, your things were all moved to the storage shed… Ms. Elena said, she said the master bedroom… is going to have a new mistress soon, so it needed to be cleared out immediately!” I gave a short, cynical laugh. Married for four years, and I didn’t even deserve a decent goodbye. I turned and walked toward the storage shed in the backyard. I pushed the door open. Boxes were stacked on top of boxes, bags piled on top of bags. I crouched down and began digging through them one by one. I didn’t care about anything else, but I had to find my mother’s jade bangle. It was an heirloom passed down from my grandmother to my mother, and then from my mother to me… It was the only thing in this entire house that truly belonged to me! I finally found it at the very bottom of a dusty box. I clutched it tightly in my palm, letting out a long, shuddering sigh of relief. Just as I was gathering a few clothes to take with me, a childish voice rang out from the doorway: “What are you doing?” I turned my head. My son, Leo, was blocking the doorway with his small frame. He looked exactly like Arthur, but that condescending, arrogant posture was a carbon copy of Elena. “Getting my things.” I turned back and kept sorting. Normally, whenever I saw him, even if he pushed me away, I would rush over to shower him with kisses and hugs. But this time, I felt nothing but a hollow, absolute calmness. “These aren’t your things.” Seeing that I was ignoring him, he marched inside. He stomped his foot directly onto my scattered clothes. “Auntie Elena said everything in this house belongs to Daddy. You are not allowed to take a single thing.” I paused. “These are my personal belongings.” “The money you spend is Daddy’s money,” he said, clasping his hands behind his back. “Daddy’s money belongs to the Sterling family, and Sterling family things have nothing to do with outsiders.” Outsider? I looked up at him. A four-year-old child, standing in front of me, looking at me like I was a common thief. The coldness in his eyes was even sharper than Arthur’s. “I’m only taking one thing.” I gripped the jade bangle tightly and stood up. “I don’t want anything else.” “No!” He stepped forward, blocking the doorway, spreading his arms wide. “You cannot steal from the Sterling family!” “Leo, move.” “I won’t!” He raised his voice. “You’re a beggar! A thieving beggar! Auntie Elena said once you leave, you can never come back, and if you take things, you’re stealing!” My temples began to throb. “I am going to say this one more time. Move.” “I won’t! Put it down!” He lunged forward, grabbing the red cloth pouch in my hand and yanking with all his might. I instinctively pulled back, and the red cloth ripped open. The jade bangle slipped out, hit the concrete floor, and shattered into several jagged pieces. I stood frozen in place, remembering what my mother had told me the day she slipped the bangle onto my wrist. She said, “Sarah, this has been in our family for six generations. One day, you’ll pass it down to your daughter. If you don’t have a daughter, you pass it to your daughter-in-law…” I don’t have a daughter. And I don’t have a daughter-in-law. I only had this bangle. It survived six generations, only to be shattered in my lifetime… by my own flesh and blood. Leo stood there, looking at the broken pieces, and muttered defensively, “Well, why didn’t you just let go…” I stared at him, my eyes burning red. “I told you, this was left to me by my mother.” “Do you even know why your grandmother is lying in a nursing home right now?!” Leo froze for a second, taking a small step back. “I don’t know any grandmother. I just know there’s some old lady burning through Daddy’s money…” The blood violently rushed to my head. “Auntie Elena said she lives in a super expensive hospital room, spending so much of Daddy’s money, and she’s never going to get better anyway, so she’s just burning cash—” “Say that again.” My voice changed. It was so cold and terrifying I didn’t even recognize it as my own. Leo was visibly frightened by the look on my face. He bit his lip, but puffed out his chest and brazenly repeated: “She’s a money-burning old lady! So wha—AH!” I shoved him. He tripped over his own feet and fell hard onto his backside. He sat there stunned for a full second before bursting into loud, theatrical wails. “DADDY! DADDY!” I stood there, my palms completely numb. Looking at my son kicking his legs and screaming on the floor, the words “money-burning old lady” echoed endlessly in my ears. That “money-burning old lady” was my mother. His grandmother. She was the woman who, when he was just one month old, dragged herself out of bed right after major surgery to hand-sew him a little winter coat. She was the woman who called from the nursing home every single year on his birthday, having the nurses read him a “Happy Birthday, Leo” card. And he called her a “money-burning old lady”! The sharp edges of the broken jade dug into my palm. The physical pain brought me back to reality a little. Arthur burst into the room. Seeing his son crying on the floor, he rushed over and scooped him up. “Leo, what happened?” Leo buried his face in Arthur’s chest, sobbing hysterically. “Daddy, she pushed me! Kick her out, please! I want Auntie Elena…” Holding his son, Arthur looked up at me. His eyes held nothing but icy, furious judgment. “Sarah, are you insane?! You’re hitting a child now?!” “I didn’t hit him.” My voice was eerily calm. “I just pushed him.” “Is there a difference?!” I looked down at the shattered jade in my hand. “Yes,” I said. “Hitting him would be disciplining him as a mother. Pushing him is exactly what he deserves as a piece of trash.”

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Chapter 1 After the nineteenth time I completely lost my mind and clawed at his mistress’s face, Julian snapped. He had his men run over my father with a car, paralyzing him. He had them drug my little brother, leaving him brain-damaged. For the sake of my family, I never dared to stop Julian from cheating again. When he brought women home, I made the bed for them. When he got someone pregnant, I handled the abortions. It wasn’t until Julian slept with my younger sister, Chloe, that I finally broke. I dropped to my knees and begged him: “You’ve already destroyed my family. How could Chloe ever possibly love you? I’m begging you, please, let her go.” Julian scoffed. He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me straight to my family’s estate. In the backyard, my father was walking alongside a visibly pregnant Chloe, moving perfectly fine. My brother was hovering around her, laughing and joking, completely coherent and sane. “You see? I lied to you. Who told you to throw such a psycho tantrum back then?” Julian smirked. “I gave your family five million dollars. Not only did your dad and brother agree to play along, but your sister even calls me her husband now.” My face went deathly pale. I couldn’t believe that even my own family had been lying to me. Julian pulled out a blank check and threw it in my face. “Chloe is pregnant, and I want her to have this baby legitimately. As long as you agree to a quiet divorce, you can write whatever number you want on that check.” But he didn’t even hand me a pen. He was absolutely certain that after loving him so deeply for ten years, I would lose my mind. He was certain that I would rather take nothing than give up my title as Mrs. Sterling. But I stayed silent for a long time. And then, I actually named my price. “Then give me five million dollars too.” From this day forward, whether it was my family or my lover. Our debts were cleared. Julian stared at me for two seconds, then let out a mocking laugh. “Boring. I thought I was going to see you scream and throw a psycho fit like you used to.” “But you’re just standing there, dead inside.” I clutched the check and looked up at him. “Give me the money first. If you really want to see it, I can perform for you.” “Perform?” The smile on Julian’s face vanished instantly, his eyes turning dark. “Sarah, do you really want to divorce me?” His voice was loud. The three people a short distance away heard him and hurried over. Seeing that Julian looked unhappy, my father didn’t hesitate for a second. He raised his hand, fully intending to slap me across the face. “Did you piss off Mr. Sterling again?!” But before his hand could land, Julian caught his wrist. Terrified of crossing Julian, my father awkwardly lowered his hand. He turned to me and cursed under his breath: “You stupid bitch! Can’t you just obediently serve Mr. Sterling? Are you trying to drag this entire family down with you again?!” I gave a bitter smile. “Drag the family down? Aren’t you all just leeches sucking my blood?” “Dad, the five million you got for selling your daughter… is it treating you well?” My father’s face flushed a furious red. My brother immediately stepped up, pointing a finger in my face. “You ungrateful bitch! How dare you talk to Dad like that!” In the end, it was Chloe who weakly intervened, turning to Julian: “Julian, did my sister make you angry again?” Julian ignored her. Instead, he snatched the blank check right out of my hand. He pulled out a pen, scribbled a number on it, took a divorce agreement from his bodyguard, and threw both of them back in front of me. “No, your sister has finally learned how to behave.” “She agreed to a divorce.” The eyes of all three of my family members instantly lit up. Julian glared at me coldly, tapping the last page of the agreement. “Sign here.” I didn’t hesitate. I picked up the pen and started writing. But just as I was about to finish the last letter of my name, Julian suddenly grabbed my hand. “Sarah, you better think this through. If we actually divorce, I will never want you back.” “If you want to back out, now is your chance.” I didn’t flinch. Using the momentum of his grip, I forcefully finished the last stroke of my signature. I handed the signed agreement back to him. Julian looked as if my attitude infuriated him. He couldn’t even bear to look at me anymore. “Then pack your things and get out as soon as possible. The Sterling estate needs to be prepared for its true mistress.” “Let’s go, Chloe. I’ll walk with you a little longer.” With that, he wrapped his arm around Chloe’s waist. As he turned, he intentionally bumped his shoulder hard into mine. The impact made me stumble back two steps. My father and brother immediately followed them. I don’t know what they whispered in Chloe’s ear, but all of them burst into laughter. I stood there, watching them. My eyes burned so badly it hurt. This was the first time I realized that my father and brother were actually capable of laughing. I didn’t look away until they were far out of sight. I gripped the check even tighter in my hand. I went to the bank and cashed it. But on the ride back, after thinking it over and over, I told the driver to change course and head to Dr. Evans’s lab. “That fake-death pill you mentioned last time… do you still have it?” Dr. Evans pushed his glasses up his nose, pondering for a moment. “I do have it.” “But last time you said you wanted to take it with your family. If multiple people take it, the target is too big. Mr. Sterling will definitely get suspicious.” I shook my head. “There is no family. It’s just me.” “Julian and I are getting divorced. But I know him. Even if he throws something away, he won’t let anyone else have it. The only way I can truly escape is if I die right in front of him.” Dr. Evans didn’t ask any more questions. He handed me a small pill bottle. “There are three pills in total. Take one every three hours. After taking them, your body will become increasingly weak, culminating in symptoms of sudden cardiac arrest. When the time comes, I’ll use the body donation agreement you signed earlier to come and collect you.” I took the bottle without a second thought, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed the first pill dry. The world instantly began to spin. Double vision clouded my eyes. I gripped the edge of his desk to steady myself, panting slightly as I rasped: “Thank you, Dr. Evans.” Dr. Evans sighed, a hint of pity in his eyes. “Nothing to thank me for. I’m not that noble. I just needed a live test subject.” “Ms. Davis. I wish you freedom.” I forced myself to stand straight and slowly shuffled toward the door. Right before I stepped out, I turned and smiled at him: “Okay.” “Here’s to my freedom.” By the time I got back to the Sterling estate, Julian had already moved Chloe in. He was sitting on the sofa. When he saw me walk in, he frowned impatiently. But as his eyes swept over my ghostly pale face, a look of sudden satisfaction crossed his features. “What’s wrong? Starting to regret it now?” “Too bad. I already moved Chloe in. She’s upstairs right now having the maids clean out your room.” I didn’t say a word. I silently walked toward the stairs. The door to the master bedroom was wide open. My belongings were thrown haphazardly into the hallway. Clothes were scattered across the floor. The wedding photo that had hung on the wall for ten years was smashed on the ground, the frame splintered into pieces. By my feet sat the velvet box that held my wedding ring. It was open, and completely empty. Hearing my footsteps, Chloe poked her head out to look at me. She flashed her left hand at me, showing off the ring on her ring finger: “Look, Sarah! Your wedding ring fits me perfectly!” “Since Julian doesn’t want you anymore, there’s no point in you keeping these things. I’m just helping you clean up.” As she spoke, she kicked one of my pillows out the door. I didn’t know when, but Julian had silently appeared behind me. He leaned casually against the wall, his eyes resting on Chloe, brimming with absolute adoration. He allowed her to throw my things all over the floor without uttering a single word of protest. Instead, he mocked me: “Chloe, why are you throwing out the trash yourself? Don’t stress the baby.” “Just let her pack her own garbage and get the hell out.” After saying that, Julian looked up at me, waiting. He was waiting for me to lose my mind. Waiting for me to scream, lose control, and lunge at Chloe to claw at her face like I used to. Waiting for me to drop to my knees, crying and begging him not to cheat, begging him to only love me. But I gave him absolutely no reaction. I looked at the disaster zone that used to be my bedroom. I really didn’t have much worth packing anyway. I kept my head down and turned to leave. I had barely taken two steps down the stairs when Julian’s voice stopped me. “Halt! You took five million dollars of my money, and you think you can just walk away that easily?” “Isn’t there a thirty-day cooling-off period for the divorce? There’s no room for you in the guest rooms. But the maid’s quarters on the first floor are empty. You can stay there. I paid for you, so I might as well get my money’s worth.” I knew Julian wouldn’t let me go that easily. But anywhere was fine. My head was spinning worse by the minute. I just wanted to find a place to rest. But before I could even turn around, Chloe’s bratty, entitled voice rang out again: “Sarah, why don’t you wait before going to your room?” “Ever since I got pregnant, I’ve been starving all the time. Go to the kitchen and make me something to eat. Dad and Leo are coming over soon, too.” I turned back to look at her. The face I had watched grow up since we were children was now twisted with pure malice. It made me feel a strange, agonizing pain. I couldn’t help but ask: “Chloe, I was always so good to you when we were growing up. Clothes, jewelry, all the best things—I always thought of you first.” “Julian is your brother-in-law. Why would you…” Chloe clearly hated hearing this. She waved her hand impatiently. “Who cares why? You married into the Sterling family and lived the high life, but when I asked you to introduce me to some rich guys, you always made excuses! Now you want to play the loving sister card? It’s so fake.” I desperately tried to explain: “Those guys were either alcoholics or abusive! You would never have been happy marrying them…” “Shut up! You just couldn’t stand the thought of me having a better life than you! If you wouldn’t introduce me to anyone, I had to find someone myself. And now, I’m the one who’s going to be Mrs. Sterling!” I wanted to say more. But Julian sharply cut me off. “Sarah, are you deaf? Chloe said she’s hungry! Stop talking garbage and get to work!” I had no choice but to swallow my words and head to the kitchen. A little while later, my father and brother arrived. The sounds of them laughing and chatting in the living room drifted into the kitchen, stabbing at my ears and making my double vision even worse. I forced myself to finish cooking a massive spread. Just as I bent down to pick up the very last plate… Crash! The porcelain plate slipped from my fingers and shattered into pieces on the floor. A sharp, agonizing pain erupted from my forehead. An expensive glass diffuser had shattered against my skull. Shards of glass flew everywhere as blood began to stream down my face. I reached up to cover the wound. But I couldn’t stop it. Blood leaked through my fingers. My vision turned entirely red. Chloe was still screaming at me: “You shameless bitch! We’re already getting a divorce, and you’re still trying to seduce Julian! I just accidentally splashed a little cold water on you, and now you’re sitting here playing the victim?! Julian, don’t believe her!” I turned my head to look at Julian. “I wasn’t trying to seduce you.” But Julian was clearly determined to make things difficult for me. “Apologize to Chloe.” I froze for a split second, then without any hesitation… I lowered my head and apologized to Chloe: “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have tried to seduce Mr. Sterling.” Julian’s cold composure instantly shattered. It was as if he couldn’t handle my completely indifferent, compliant reaction. He violently grabbed my wrist and demanded: “Sarah, why aren’t you fighting back?! Where are your excuses?! You used to love explaining yourself, didn’t you?! Why aren’t you saying anything?! Fight with me!” “If you just lose your mind right now, I’ll give you another five million. We won’t get a divorce!” I looked up at him. Blood ran into my eyes. Julian’s face was a blurry, distorted mess. “Mr. Sterling, I already apologized.” “I’m tired. I want to go to sleep.” Julian was furious. He squeezed my wrist so hard the bones creaked. He dragged my stumbling body down the stairs and forcefully threw me into the maid’s quarters. “Fine! You want to play tough?! Let’s see if you can keep this dead-inside act up for the rest of your life!” He turned and roared at the maids: “Listen to me, all of you!” “Lock this door from the outside! Do not leave anything but the window! Unless I give the order, no one is allowed to let her out!” Julian’s furious footsteps stormed away. I stumbled and leaned heavily against the wardrobe to stay upright. My phone slipped from my pocket and hit the floor. The screen shattered. On it was a text from Dr. Evans, sent five minutes ago: [You can take the third pill now.] I wiped the phone, pulled out the pill bottle, and swallowed the final pill, washing it down with the rusty taste of my own blood. Not long after, a heavy thud echoed from the maid’s quarters downstairs. It sounded like a dead weight crashing onto the hardwood floor. Julian paused, a book in his hands, fully intending to get out of bed and go downstairs to check on me. But Chloe wrapped her arms around his waist, her body pressing softly against his. “Julian, don’t go. She’s probably just throwing a tantrum and hitting the door.” “You locked her up for the night, just let her out in the morning. If you cave this fast, she’ll never learn her lesson.” Julian hesitated for a moment, deciding Chloe made a good point. He lay back down, resting his hand on her pregnant belly. He figured he would go down later, once I started making a bigger scene. But that night was completely silent. After that heavy thud, no other sound ever came from my room. The next morning, when Julian came downstairs for breakfast, he lifted his chin toward the housekeeper, Maria. “Let her out to eat.” “Keep an eye on her. She’s probably going to throw a massive fit.” Maria nodded and took the keys to unlock the door. The room inside was pitch black. And far too quiet. Julian felt a strange sense of unease, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. Until a terrified, blood-curdling scream erupted from inside the room. Maria stumbled out, her face deathly pale, practically crawling on her hands and knees: “Dead! She’s dead!” “Her head is covered in dried blood! She’s not breathing! Sarah is dead!”

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I’m a forensic pathologist. Occupational hazard: I’m hyper-sensitive to fingerprints. On the doorknob of my house, there have only ever been two sets of prints. Mine, and my wife’s. During our fifth year of marriage, I came back from a business trip and wiped down the doorknob out of habit. On the third swipe, my portable fingerprint scanner suddenly lit up. An unfamiliar fingerprint. Positioned exactly at the most common angle used to unlock the door. I turned and asked my wife. She smiled and said, “Are you being paranoid again?” Her smile was faint. Her hands, chopping vegetables, were completely steady. But I knew the owner of that fingerprint had been here at least three times. Because the depth of the pressure and the oil residue indicated a habitual action. I didn’t say a word. That night, I pulled up our neighborhood’s security footage. On the screen, a man walked into my house on the second day of my business trip. He didn’t come out until 3:00 AM. 1 My name is Arthur Cole. I’ve been a forensic pathologist for eight years. This line of work gave me a weird quirk—a pathological sensitivity to fingerprints. When normal people come home, the first thing they do is take off their shoes. The first thing I do is wipe down the doorknob. It’s not germaphobia. It’s professional instinct. There should only ever be two sets of prints on that handle: mine, and my wife, Sarah’s. In our five years of marriage, I wiped it down three times a day. Once when leaving in the morning, once coming home at night, and once before bed. At first, Sarah thought I had a psychological issue, but she eventually got used to it. She used to joke, “The love of your life isn’t me, it’s that stupid doorknob.” I’d laugh and pull her into a hug. “Doorknobs don’t lie to me.” She’d punch my shoulder. “You say that like I would.” I never replied. Because back then, I truly believed she never would. Until that day. I got back from my trip around 9:00 PM. Sarah was in the kitchen cutting up fruit. The TV in the living room was playing some reality show. Everything was perfectly normal. I set down my suitcase and instinctively walked over to the front door. I pulled out my portable fingerprint scanner. It was my habit, my obsession. First scan. The screen showed two sets of prints. Mine, and Sarah’s. Good. Second scan. Still two sets. No problem. On the third scan, the screen suddenly lit up. Three sets of fingerprints. I froze. The third set of prints was located exactly at the angle most commonly used to turn the handle. The pressure depth was obvious, the oil residue crystal clear. This wasn’t an accidental brush. This was a habitual action. I turned to look at the kitchen. Sarah was still cutting fruit, her back to me. The knife hit the cutting board in a rhythmic, steady tempo. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Perfectly steady. “Did anyone come over?” I asked. She didn’t even look up. “No.” “Are you sure?” “Positive.” She turned around, offering me a slice of apple. “Are you being paranoid again?” Her smile was faint. Her eyes were perfectly clear. But my hands were shaking. Because that fingerprint told me a different story— They had been here at least three times. And it happened while I was out of town. I took the apple slice and took a bite. It was sweet. So sweet it tasted bitter. “I’m gonna take a shower,” I said. “Okay. Go to bed early when you’re done, you look exhausted.” Her concern sounded so genuine. I walked into the bathroom and locked the door. I pulled out my phone and accessed the neighborhood HOA’s security camera system. I had the access codes. Both because I was a homeowner, and because I had previously helped the HOA resolve a legal dispute. I scrolled the timeline back to the day I left. I fast-forwarded from 8:00 AM. 9:00 AM, Sarah leaves for work. 6:00 PM, she comes home. By 10:00 PM, nothing unusual. I kept scrolling. Day two. 8:00 AM, Sarah leaves. 6:00 PM, she comes home. 9:00 PM— A man appeared on the screen. He was wearing a black jacket and a baseball cap. He walked right up to my door. Pulled out a key. Opened the door. Walked in. My grip on my phone tightened. I kept watching. At 3:00 AM, he finally came out. The brim of his hat was pulled low, hiding his face. But his build was clear. About 5’9″, medium build. I took a screenshot. Zoomed in. Zoomed in again. I saw the tattoo on his left wrist. A snake. I saved the image. Kept scrolling. Day four. He came back. This time, he went in at 11:00 PM and came out at 2:00 AM. Day seven. Him again. In at 10:00 PM, out at 4:00 AM. Three times. Always in the dead of night. Staying for hours each time. I closed the security app and turned on the faucet. I splashed cold water on my face, but it couldn’t extinguish the fire burning in my chest. I took a deep breath. Forced myself to stay calm. As a forensic pathologist, I had seen too many crimes of passion. Murders committed out of impulse, out of rage, out of a total loss of reason. The people who ended up in prison were always the ones who couldn’t control their emotions. I couldn’t be like them. I needed to uncover the truth. And then— I’d make sure the person who deserved it, paid for it. 2 I didn’t confront Sarah. Because I knew confronting her was useless. She would lie. She would deflect. She would turn it around and accuse me of being paranoid. What I needed was evidence. Ironclad proof. Early the next morning, I went to work as usual. Once I got to the lab, I forwarded the screenshot to Dr. Miller. Dr. Miller was my mentor, a veteran forensic pathologist with over thirty years of experience. The very first thing he ever taught me was: Never trust the words coming out of a mouth. Trust the evidence. “I need you to run a guy for me,” I said, walking into his office. Dr. Miller took my phone and glanced at the screenshot. “A tattoo?” “Yeah. Left wrist, snake design.” “What are we looking for?” “Identity, criminal record, everything you can find.” Dr. Miller looked up at me. “What happened?” I paused for two seconds. “Personal matter.” He didn’t ask anything else. He transferred the screenshot to his computer and started running it through the database. Tattoos are excellent identifiers. Especially ones in obvious locations with unique designs. Twenty minutes later, Dr. Miller called me over. “Found him.” I walked over to the screen. A mugshot was displayed. Kevin Reed, 32 years old, unemployed. Record: Sentenced to three years in prison for felony fraud three years ago. Released six months ago. Address: Rented apartment in a low-income neighborhood on the edge of town. I stared at his face. Very average features. But there was an indescribable ruthlessness in his eyes. “Know him?” Dr. Miller asked. “No.” “Then why are we running him?” I didn’t answer. Dr. Miller looked at me and sighed. “Arthur, you look terrible.” “I’m fine.” “You’re not fine,” he said. “I’ve mentored you for eight years. You think I don’t know what that look on your face means?” I turned to leave. Dr. Miller stopped me. “If this is a family matter, you need to stay cool. Being impulsive won’t solve anything.” “I know.” “You don’t know shit,” he snapped. “The way you look right now, you look like you’re going to kill someone.” I didn’t say a word. Because he was right. I did want to kill someone. Just not right now. When I got home, Sarah had dinner ready. Three dishes and a soup. All my favorites. “You’re home early today,” she noted. “Yeah, wasn’t too busy.” I sat down and picked up my fork. “Perfect, you can come to the grocery store with me. We’re out of soy sauce.” “Sure.” During dinner, I watched her. Her expressions were natural. Her movements were fluid. There was absolutely nothing abnormal about her. She put a piece of ribs in my bowl. “Eat up, you’ve lost weight lately.” “Thanks.” “Don’t be so polite with me.” She smiled. Smiling so gently. So completely fake. After dinner, we walked to the supermarket. On the way, she linked her arm through mine. “Honey, my birthday is next month. What are you going to get me?” “What do you want?” “A necklace, maybe? I saw a really pretty one the other day.” “How much?” “Not too bad, about thirty grand.” Thirty grand. She said it so effortlessly. As if it wasn’t thirty thousand dollars, but thirty cents. I thought about the security footage of Kevin walking into my house. I thought about the snake tattoo on his wrist. I thought about the file Dr. Miller pulled up— A convicted fraudster. Fresh out of prison six months ago. Why was Sarah associating with a guy like that? For money? Or something else? “Honey?” She nudged me. “What are you thinking about?” “Nothing,” I said. “I’ll think about the necklace.” “Okay.” She smiled. “No rush, we still have a month.” Yeah. Still a month. A month until her birthday. Maybe by then, the whole truth would be exposed. When we got home, Sarah went to take a shower. I sat in the living room and unlocked her phone. I knew the passcode. It was our anniversary. She never cared if I looked at her phone. Because she wasn’t using this phone to contact him. Her texts were full of normal conversations with coworkers and friends. Her call log was completely ordinary. No Kevin Reed. Not a single trace. She was very careful. Or rather, she had anticipated that I might check her phone. So she was using a different method to communicate. I locked the phone and put it exactly where I found it. I walked out to the balcony and lit a cigarette. Sarah hated it when I smoked. But tonight, I had to. If I didn’t, I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from kicking down the bathroom door and confronting her. The smoke slowly dissipated into the night air. The streetlights in the neighborhood flickered on one by one. I remembered the day we got married, five years ago. She stood in front of me in her white dress. Smiling so radiantly. She had said, “Arthur, the luckiest thing that ever happened to me was marrying you.” And I had said, “Me too.” Back then, I thought we would always be like that. Right into old age. Looking back on it now. It was all a pathetic joke. 3 The next night, I pretended I had to work late. In reality, I was parked in my car outside the neighborhood gates. I parked at an intersection with a clear view of the entrance. I dimmed the dashboard lights and leaned back in my seat. And I waited. 10:00 PM. 10:30 PM. 10:50 PM. Sarah walked out of the main gate. She was wearing a black cocktail dress I had never seen before. Her makeup was heavy. Her lipstick was blood red. A black Audi pulled up in front of her. She opened the back door and got in. The car drove off. I started my engine and followed. Keeping my distance. Not too close, not too far. The Audi drove all the way to the outskirts of the city. Traffic thinned out. The streetlights grew sparse. Finally, the car stopped in front of an abandoned, half-finished apartment complex. Sarah got out and walked straight inside. I waited five minutes. Killed the engine, locked the car, and followed her. The abandoned building was eight stories high. There were no elevators, and the stairwell was pitch black. I turned on my phone flashlight and slowly made my way up. Every step was calculated and quiet. First floor, empty. Second floor, also empty. Third floor— I heard voices. They were quiet, but in this dead-silent environment, they carried clearly. I turned off my flashlight and kept climbing in the dark. The voices got closer. Fourth floor. Fifth floor. Sixth floor. The top floor. The eighth floor. Light spilled out from underneath a cracked door. I pressed myself flat against the wall and crept closer. “…it has to work this time. We have no way out.” It was Sarah’s voice. “Don’t worry, I’ve got it all set up.” A man’s voice. Unfamiliar, yet familiar. It had to be Kevin. “Tomorrow night, Arthur is on the night shift. We make our move then.” The blood in my veins instantly turned to ice. “He really doesn’t suspect a thing?” Kevin asked. “Nothing,” Sarah said. “He trusts me completely.” “And when he’s dead, how much is the life insurance payout?” “Five million. I’m the sole beneficiary.” Five million. Life insurance. So I was the one who was supposed to die. I leaned against the concrete wall and took a slow, deep breath. My hands were shaking. Not from fear. From pure rage. I pulled out my phone and hit record. “What’s the exact plan?” Sarah asked. “Simple,” Kevin said. “When he works the night shift, he usually goes to the parking garage around 3:00 AM for a smoke break. There are no security cameras in that specific blind spot. I’ll be waiting for him there.” “And then?” “And then—” Kevin laughed. “We stage an accident. While he’s smoking, he accidentally trips and falls down the stairs. Head trauma. Dead on impact.” “Won’t they suspect foul play?” “No. He’s a forensic pathologist, high-stress job, constantly pulling all-nighters. Sudden cardiac arrest leading to a fall is totally believable. Plus, those garage stairs are steep enough that a fatal fall makes sense.” “What about the autopsy?” “The autopsy will be fine,” Kevin assured her. “I’ll control the force, make sure the blunt force trauma perfectly matches an accidental fall. Besides, his own colleagues aren’t going to suspect a murder right off the bat.” Sarah was silent for a few seconds. “Are you absolutely sure nothing will go wrong?” “Positive. I’ve studied his schedule, and I’ve scoped out the garage layout. It’s foolproof.” “Good,” Sarah said. “When it’s done, we split the five million 50/50.” “Deal.” I heard the clink of glasses. Followed by the sound of kissing. I stopped the recording. Turned around, and slowly walked down the stairs. Every step was silent. So quiet I couldn’t even hear myself. But my heartbeat was deafening. So heavy it felt like it was going to smash through my ribcage. Back in my car, I played the recording. Listened to it all over again. Confirmed I hadn’t missed a single detail. Then, I sent a text to Dr. Miller. “Doc, I need to take tomorrow off.” He replied almost instantly. “What’s wrong?” “I have some personal business to handle.” “What kind of personal business?” “I’ll tell you tomorrow.” “Alright. Stay safe.” I locked my phone. Leaned back in the driver’s seat. Closed my eyes. All I could see was Sarah’s face. That face I used to love so deeply. Now, it only made me feel violently sick.

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When Ashton’s childhood sweetheart, Chloe, threw her sixth tantrum and flew out of the country, I got hired to replace her as his personal assistant. In just two years, Ashton fell head over heels in love with me. On the day of our engagement party, Chloe stormed back into the country. Right in front of everyone, she leaked their old intimate photos into our Snapchat group chat. “I have plenty of photos like this. Ashton is just using you as a rebound, Serena.” I pulled out my phone, saved the screenshots immediately, and gave her a quick legal lesson: “In this state, distributing non-consensual explicit images is a felony. You can get up to two years in prison for this.” “How many people did you send this to, Chloe?” Chloe’s face went rigid. She looked completely lost. Instinctively, she turned to Ashton, fully expecting him to take her side. Ashton simply pulled out his phone and, without a second thought, kicked her out of the group chat. Chloe gasped. “Ashton!” “Don’t get it twisted, Chloe. I’m doing you a favor,” Ashton said coldly. “Serena is right. She graduated top of her class from law school. If you break the law and drag us down with you, I’m not saving your ass.” Chloe bit her lower lip so hard it almost bled. Finally, she forced a smile. “Oh, Ashton, you’ve got it all wrong. I was just trying to break the ice! I wanted to test her.” “These days, so many gold-diggers have no shame. They’d do anything to climb their way into high society.” “I was just testing her for you. But wow, Serena, you really keep your cool, don’t you?” I smiled and said nothing. During my two years as Ashton’s assistant, the number of women trying to throw themselves at him was endless. I had cleaned up all his messes and used my legal expertise to shield him from countless gold-diggers and blackmailers. Chloe’s little stunt was amateur hour to me. It didn’t even make a splash. In fact, two months after she had left the country, an influencer photoshopped a fake bedroom picture of Ashton and leaked it to get clout. I personally filed a lawsuit for defamation and harassment and threw her in a holding cell for seven days. Since then, any woman trying to climb into Ashton’s bed had to think twice about whether they could outsmart the law. After all, I was a professional. Ashton looked at Chloe and said flatly, “Serena isn’t like those girls. She’s a top-tier attorney. The only reason she accepted my job offer was because I paid her a fortune. I’m the one who got lucky.” He wasn’t lying. I could easily make seven figures on my own. I have my own network and resources. But Ashton offered me a three-million-dollar annual salary. I had no reason to say no. Chloe fumed in silence, unable to say a word. Tyler, one of Ashton’s buddies, laughed to ease the tension. “Alright, Chloe, stop messing around. You’re back, and Ashton is getting engaged. It’s a double celebration!” “Let’s raise a glass, everyone!” Chloe’s eyes darted around, and a smirk returned to her face. “Right! Ashton, you’re so unfair. I was only out of the country, and you didn’t even tell me you were getting engaged. Good thing I made it back in time!” “You deserve a penalty!” Ashton sighed. “What kind of penalty?” “How about… an arm-locked toast?” She quickly poured two glasses of champagne and handed one to Ashton. I watched them with amusement. Ashton thought about it, poured a third glass, and handed it to me. Chloe froze. “Ashton!” Ashton smiled helplessly. “I know you wanted to see a show. Serena and I will show you how it’s done, so you know what to do when you get married.” With that, he locked his arm with mine and drained his glass. The crowd erupted into cheers and whistles. Someone even chanted, “Kiss her! Kiss her!” I didn’t hesitate. I leaned in on my tiptoes and pressed my lips against his. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Chloe. Her eyes were red with rage. She slammed her glass onto the floor and stormed out. Ashton watched her retreating back and sighed. “I’ll go check on her.” I nodded graciously. Once he left, Tyler sauntered over to me, hands in his pockets. “I’ve seen plenty of girls like you, Serena. You’re a much better actress than Chloe.” “But she and Ashton grew up together. You want to take her place? Keep dreaming.” I raised an eyebrow. “Is that so? Well, at least I’m doing better than you. You’ve been secretly in love with her for years and never had the guts to say it. And now you’re trying to threaten me?” “If I were you, Tyler, I’d keep my mouth shut. It’s never a good idea to piss off a lawyer. I can destroy your life in a heartbeat.” “For example… that hit-and-run on the East River bridge last night? I know it was you.”

Tyler’s face drained of color instantly. I gave him a sweet, cold smile. “Nothing Ashton does will shake my position. But as for you? You might want to think carefully about how you treat me from now on.” Without giving him a second glance, I turned around to mingle with the guests. A while later, Ashton returned. He was rubbing his temples, looking exhausted. “How is Chloe?” I asked. “She’s just throwing a tantrum. I’m used to it after all these years. Sorry you had to deal with that, Serena.” “It’s fine,” I smiled softly. He wrapped his arm around my waist, and we continued greeting our guests. Not far away, his buddies were watching me with dark, unreadable expressions. I raised my glass to them from afar and smiled. They thought I was in over my head. I thought they were idiots. By staying by Ashton’s side, my professional network had expanded tenfold. No matter what his friends thought of me, I wasn’t going to let go of this golden ticket. Besides, Ashton wanted to marry me, and his parents approved. This meant I had already passed the real test. As for the girls buzzing around him, I trusted that a mature man would handle them himself. Sure enough, Chloe didn’t show up for the rest of the night. But Ashton’s friends couldn’t stop making snide remarks and passive-aggressive comments. Eventually, Ashton snapped. “Serena is my fiancée, and she’s going to be my wife. If you guys consider me a friend, you will treat her with respect. If I hear one more disrespectful comment about her, don’t blame me for cutting ties with you forever!” His outburst terrified them. They exchanged uneasy glances. Finally, Tyler blurted out, “Ashton, you’re blinded by this woman! Chloe is your—” “Chloe is just a friend,” Ashton interrupted him coldly. “Yes, we grew up together. But Serena is the woman I love. Don’t ever bring up Chloe in the same breath again.” Everyone looked at Ashton like they had seen a ghost. They realized he was completely whipped. I looked at Tyler’s furious face and sneered inwardly. Tyler was Chloe’s ultimate puppet and her spy in the city. He reported my every move with Ashton back to Chloe. With that kind of dedication, he should have been a paparazzo. Tyler looked like he wanted to spit fire, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut. This engagement party made one thing clear: Ashton’s feelings for me were real. Too bad some people refused to believe it, thinking I was just a gold-digging witch who had cast a spell on him. I didn’t care to explain myself. After all, I was the one who was going to spend the rest of my life with him. After the party, Ashton drove me home. On the way, his phone rang again. He hung up impatiently. I caught a glimpse of the screen. It was Chloe. “She’s probably upset because you were ignoring her all night,” I said softly. “Why don’t we go check on her? Just in case she does something stupid.” Ashton sighed, steering the wheel. “Thanks for being so understanding, Serena. I wish she could be half as mature as you.” I chuckled. “I wasn’t born mature, Ashton. Chloe is just spoiled by everyone around her.” I had seen these kinds of childish mind games back in college. Now that I’d been in the corporate world for years, Chloe’s tactics looked pathetic. Ashton seemed to take my words to heart. “We’re not going. Today is our engagement day. I’m not letting her ruin it.” He ignored her calls for the rest of the night. When we got back to our apartment, Ashton turned his phone off completely. But Chloe, driven mad by the silence, actually showed up at our door.

Just as Ashton and I were about to go all the way, we heard the electronic lock at the front door beep, followed by an error sound. We both froze. Ashton quickly wrapped me in the duvet. A second later, the bedroom door burst open. Chloe stood there. Seeing us in bed, she screamed at the top of her lungs. “Ashton! How could you sleep with her?!” I threw on a silk robe and crossed my arms, looking at her coldly. “Chloe, we are engaged. It is completely normal for us to sleep together.” “On the other hand, you just broke into a private residence. In this country, that’s a felony. You could go to prison.” Chloe ignored me completely. She ran over and grabbed Ashton’s arm. “Did you really sleep with her?” “Ashton, how could you do this to me?” “I was only away for two years! And you couldn’t even wait for me?!” Ashton’s face darkened with pure fury. He grabbed her wrist and shoved her out of the bedroom, slamming the door behind them. I could hear his shouting through the heavy door. Ashton was livid. He absolutely detested being interrupted, especially at a moment like this. During my first two years as his assistant, Ashton would drink himself to sleep every night because of her. When he was wasted, he would drag me into his misery and ramble about their past. I had listened to those stories with professional patience. I knew every detail of their history. But I also slowly began to change his habits because I refused to work overtime just because my boss was having a heartbreak. Whenever he was in a bad mood, I would make him watch movies, read, or talk about business. Once my shift was over, I would immediately draw a line and leave, refusing to let his drama bleed into my personal life. Over time, this became his routine. Once we were in our personal space, Ashton dedicated all his time to me. He hated interruptions. Now that Chloe had shattered his boundaries, he wasn’t going to let it slide. Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the living room. “Ashton! If you don’t want me anymore, there’s no point in me living!” I rushed out of the bedroom just in time to hear Ashton roar, “Chloe, don’t do this!” Chloe let out a bitter laugh and sliced her wrist with a piece of broken glass. Blood immediately welled up. Ashton panicked. He grabbed her hand, his eyes bloodshot. “Chloe! You owe me too much! You can’t do this!” “Ashton, what about what you owe me? I’ve always loved you, but you changed!” “You engaged her! What about me? You owe me, Ashton!” Ashton screamed, “You’re the one who abandoned me!” I couldn’t stand the melodrama anymore. I interrupted them. “Can we stop the screaming and call an ambulance? Otherwise, she’s going to bleed out before anyone owes anyone anything.” Ashton looked up at me, tears in his eyes. I accompanied them to the hospital. After Chloe was rolled into the emergency room, Ashton leaned against my shoulder, looking exhausted and defeated. Chloe’s parents arrived shortly after. Seeing their daughter’s state, Mrs. Sterling was heartbroken. “Ashton, I know this is a lot to ask, but please, Chloe is unstable right now. Can you stay and watch over her? Just make sure she doesn’t do anything drastic again!” Mrs. Sterling then shot me a venomous look, her eyes filled with disgust. “If some home-wrecker hadn’t taken advantage of the situation, you and Chloe would have been married by now!” I finally understood where Chloe got her dramatic, toxic personality. It was entirely genetic. Chloe lay on the hospital bed, her face pale. “Ashton… I regret leaving. I really do.” Ashton stared at her, silent. A complicated look flashed through his eyes. I couldn’t stand the sight of this anymore. “Ashton, it’s late. I’m going home.” “Wait…” Ashton grabbed my hand. “You can’t leave. We need to settle this tonight.” “There’s nothing to settle. It’s past midnight,” I said. Chloe suddenly looked hopeful. “She’s right! Ashton, we need to settle this once and for all! I knew you still cared about—” “Great,” Ashton interrupted her, looking exceptionally cold. “Then pay me back for my vintage vase, plus my emotional distress damages. If you pay up, I won’t file charges for breaking and entering.” Chloe’s mouth fell open. “W-What did you say?!”

Ashton looked at her with pure annoyance. “Are you deaf? You broke into my house tonight, shattered my favorite vase, and threatened suicide to traumatize me. The emotional distress damages plus the cost of the antique vase total 3.8 million dollars.” He snapped his fingers. His bodyguard immediately stepped forward and handed Chloe a printed invoice. Chloe stared at the paper, completely dumbfounded. “Ashton! I-I almost died for you!” She pointed at her bandaged wrist. Ashton nodded. “I have security cameras inside my apartment. They prove you broke in at midnight to perform a suicide stunt. You have caused me severe emotional trauma. Are you paying via wire transfer or check?” Ashton’s cold logic left Chloe entirely speechless. I stood by the side, perfectly calm. During the two years Chloe was away, I had studied her personality inside out. I knew she loved playing the victim and threatening suicide. To desensitize Ashton, I had spent the last two years setting up “scenarios” with various gold-diggers who tried to throw themselves at him. I had exposed him to every trick in the book—from girls faking car accidents to stage-managed overdoses. Ashton had gone from panic-stricken to completely immune. Compared to what I had prepared him for, Chloe’s little wrist-slitting show was amateur hour. Chloe couldn’t believe her ears. “Ashton, I was willing to die for you, and you’re asking me for money?!” “Of course,” Ashton said seriously. “That vase was bought at a Sotheby’s auction. It took me months to find one that matched my living room decor. And you just smashed it!” “And who gave you permission to enter my apartment anyway?” “You set the passcode to my birthday! You still love me!” Chloe shrieked. Ashton looked at her like she was insane. “Chloe, are you out of your mind? We share the same birthday! I set the passcode to my own birthday. What does that have to do with you?” “You broke into my home and traumatized me. The fact that I’m not calling the police right now is me being generous.” Ashton then looked at me, waiting for my professional input. I gave him a thumbs-up. “Spot on. Illegal entry of a habitation is a felony punishable by up to three years in prison. If accompanied by other unlawful acts, the sentences run consecutively.” “And Chloe, you’re looking at a solid three years behind bars. Do you want us to call the cops and get a psychological evaluation? If you’re deemed mentally sound, we’ll proceed with the criminal charges.” Chloe screamed in terror. Mrs. Sterling rushed forward and shoved me hard. “What nonsense are you talking?! Our Chloe grew up with Ashton! They were just playing a game!” I stumbled backward and hit my shoulder against the doorframe. I winced in pain. Ashton’s eyes flared with rage. “Mrs. Sterling! If Chloe’s break-in is a crime, your physical assault on my fiancée is even worse!” “I will make sure my legal team prosecutes this to the fullest extent!” Mr. Sterling, who had been quiet, finally realized Ashton wasn’t bluffing. He quickly stepped in to apologize. “I’m so sorry, Ashton. My wife was just too worried about Chloe.” “We will pay for the damages. But please, for the sake of our families’ history, could you stay with Chloe for a bit?” Ashton wrapped his arm securely around my waist. “No. It’s inappropriate.” “Today is my engagement day. Chloe needs a professional therapist and her family, not me. We’re leaving. And don’t ever bother us again.” With that, he guided me out of the hospital, leaving them behind.

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For our New Year’s honeymoon, my husband, Carter, and his female bestie, Mia, secretly changed our destination from sunny Maui, Hawaii, to a freezing, rugged mountain cabin in Aspen, Colorado. I had severe car sickness and lay in the back seat the whole time, completely exhausted. When we finally stopped at a diner to eat, I took just one bite of my pasta and immediately had a massive allergic reaction. There was crab meat hidden in the sauce. Mia looked at me with pure disdain. “Oh, come on. Who is actually allergic to crab? Are you seriously faking this right now?” Carter didn’t hesitate. He raised his hand and slapped me right across the face. “Stop being so dramatic, Chloe. If you eat it more often, you’ll build immunity.” I didn’t even have the strength to speak. My hands were shaking violently, and my vision began to blur. I pointed at my purse, struggling to squeeze out a single word: “Epi…Pen…” He didn’t care at all. He casually kicked my bag under the seat, further out of my reach. “Just suck it up. It’ll pass.” Using the absolute last ounce of my strength, I speed-dialed my father. “Dad… Carter is trying to kill me.” Before I could say another word, Carter snatched the phone from my hand. But he had no idea. If anything happened to me, my billionaire father would make sure he paid with his life.

Carter let out a mock laugh, looking down at me with utter contempt. “Chloe, aren’t you making a mountain out of a molehill? It was just a tiny bite of crab meat.” “You’re nothing but a broke college graduate. How could you possibly have some wealthy, powerful father?” I stared at the man in front of me, unable to connect him with the sweet boy who had chased me so passionately in college. My father had always told me that genuine love was hard to find when you were filthy rich. I was rebellious back then, and I wanted to prove him wrong. So, I hid my background, became a low-level clerk at a firm, and met Carter, who had joined the company at the same time. Back then, he was thoughtful and attentive. He constantly praised how “independent and down-to-earth” I was. He used to say, “Chloe, you’re not like those gold-digging girls.” Even after we got married, I kept the secret that my father was a billionaire. But right after the wedding, Carter showed his true colors. He didn’t respect me at all. He threw my phone onto the floor. “It was just a joke. Is it really that serious?” Beside him, Mia was still glowing with excitement, acting coy. She walked over to me, wearing a fake, sugary smile. “Chloe, sweetie, please don’t be mad at Carter. It’s my fault, really. He only did it to make me laugh. He didn’t mean any harm. Besides, you only took one tiny bite. What could possibly go wrong?” Carter shot me an annoyed look. “Can you stop acting like a victim? A mild seafood allergy won’t kill you, even without medicine. You’ll be fine in a few minutes. Besides, if this little joke made Mia happy, why is it such a big deal? Mia is my best friend. Keeping her happy is my top priority.” That was always Carter’s logic. The moment I made Mia even slightly uncomfortable, he would humiliate me without mercy. My hands trembled as I fumbled through my coat pockets, trying to find my emergency medication, but they were completely empty. Mia suddenly pulled my EpiPen out of her own pocket and tossed it right out of the window into the snow. “You probably don’t even need this. Let me help you get rid of it, honey.” Carter chimed in immediately. “Exactly. It was just one bite. Stop being so fragile.” Looking at his self-righteous face, my vision went completely dark. The other customers in the diner kept their heads down, eating quietly. No one wanted to get involved in a domestic dispute. “Severe allergies… can cause anaphylactic shock… I will literally die!” I used every bit of energy left in my body to scream those words. But Mia just grabbed the edge of my sleeve, looking like she was about to cry. “Chloe, I know you don’t like me, but you don’t have to target me like this. You’re putting on a whole show in public just to make me look bad.” “Enough!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I struggled to stand up, wanting to slap the smug look off her face. But Carter shoved me back down hard. “What the hell is wrong with you? Mia has a weak heart! Are you trying to kill her?” Mia immediately clutched her chest, putting on a dramatic show of pain. “Carter, my chest hurts… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come on this trip with you guys.” “No, it’s not your fault, Mia.” Carter quickly held her, comforting her with a soft, gentle voice I hadn’t heard in years. “She’s just spoiled. She thinks the whole world revolves around her. Just ignore her.” I watched them holding each other like a perfect couple. My chest felt tighter, and breathing became almost impossible. With a sudden burst of rage, I swept the plates of food off the table, sending them crashing to the floor. “Carter! The moment we get back, we are getting a divorce!”

Carter froze for a second, and then his face twisted with pure fury. “Are you insane?! You want a divorce over this tiny thing? Do you even hear yourself? Do you really think I can’t live without you?” “A tiny thing?” I squeezed the words out of my burning lungs. “You tricked me—someone with a deadly seafood allergy—into eating crab. You call that a tiny thing?” “Carter, we’ve been married for so long. Have you ever actually looked at me as your wife? The second Mia has a minor issue, you run to her. But when I need you, you always have an excuse. I am your wife!” Mia stepped forward again, her voice trembling like a frightened child. “Chloe, please don’t be mad at Carter… It’s all my fault. Carter only did it to make me smile…” She wiped away fake tears and looked at Carter. “She’s only saying this because she loves you. You should go comfort her.” Seeing me collapsed miserably on the floor, a tourist at a nearby table couldn’t watch anymore. He frowned and tried to mediate. “Hey, man, your wife really doesn’t look good. Food allergies can be fatal. Maybe you should take her to the ER first.” “You don’t know her! She just loves playing the victim for sympathy,” Carter snapped, cutting the tourist off aggressively. “She always does this. The more people there are, the more she loves to put on a show. Every single time, she makes a mountain out of a molehill. Last time, just because Mia and I shared a quick kiss during a party game, she made a huge scene and embarrassed me in front of all my friends. Now she’s pulling this crap again!” His words felt like ice-cold daggers in my chest. That game happened right after we started dating. He didn’t care that I was standing right there. He kissed Mia right in front of my face. When I told him he had no boundaries, he called me petty and insecure. “Well, if that’s the case, she shouldn’t have reacted like that. It’s normal for a guy to have female friends,” another male tourist murmured in agreement. “They didn’t do anything crossing the line. Can’t you just let it go?” Hearing a few people take his side only fueled Carter’s ego. He looked down at me and barked, “Mia is just a young girl. What bad intentions could she have? Get up right now and apologize to her!” I stared at them, my vision blurring even more from the physiological tears streaming down my face. “Why… should I apologize?” My throat felt like it was blocked by concrete. My heart was pounding frantically against my ribs, suffocating me. The veins in my temples were throbbing so hard I thought they would burst. These were the warning signs of cerebral and pulmonary edema. I knew them all too well. Seeing that I wasn’t apologizing, Mia acted as if she had suffered the ultimate insult. She sobbed, “Chloe, please don’t do this. I’m so scared you guys will fight because of me… I don’t want to be the reason you divorce. I’ll book a flight and go home right now…” She made a move to leave. Carter grabbed her hand immediately, his eyes filled with worry and anger. “Mia, don’t be stupid! She’s just trying to force your hand! Anyone can play the victim!” Carter whipped around to face me, his eyes filled with disgust and hatred. “You are truly malicious, Chloe. Mia cares so much about you, and you still accuse her of trying to hurt you. Are you really going to ruin our entire honeymoon just because you feel a little uncomfortable?” How dare he even mention our honeymoon? This was supposed to be our trip. Because of his inappropriate relationship with Mia, we had argued countless times. But he never listened. He never cared. And now, my life-threatening condition was just “proof” of my pettiness in his eyes. The severe swelling in my throat prevented me from speaking. I could only open my mouth helplessly, making weak, choking sounds. Mia hid behind Carter, giving me a cold, mocking smirk when he wasn’t looking. Then, she gasped dramatically, “Carter, her face looks so pale… Do you think she’s actually hurt?” “It’s fake! She’s acting!” Carter said firmly. “She just wants to force me to apologize so she can control me later. I won’t give her the satisfaction!” He opened his water flask and handed it to Mia. “Here, Mia, have some warm water. You must be tired from talking so much. Ignore her. Let her cool her head off by herself.” I leaned against the wall, my body sliding down to the cold floor as my consciousness began to fade. Just then, Mia quietly knelt down in front of me. Her face was flushed and healthy, showing absolutely no sign of the “chest pain” she had claimed to feel earlier. She leaned in, whispering in a voice only I could hear: “Chloe, you were so good at acting. Why stopped now?” “To be honest, Carter never loved you. Once you ‘accidentally’ die, the massive life insurance policy he took out on you will kick in. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him—and his money—for you.” She patted my cheek gently, her voice freezing cold. “Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll make sure your funeral is absolutely grand.”

Mia’s words were the final blow that shattered my remaining consciousness. I wanted to raise my hand and slap her, but the severe anaphylactic shock had drained every bit of my strength. I could only lean against the wall, desperately gasping for air like a fish out of water. But Mia wasn’t done. She picked up the bowl of crab pasta from the table and brought it to my lips. “Chloe, honey, are you hungry? Your lips are so white. Let me feed you another bite.” She scooped up a large piece of crab meat and shoved it brutally into my mouth. “You…!” I glared at her, trying to scream, but only a raspy wheeze came out. My body began to shake violently. Mia viciously covered my mouth, preventing me from spitting it out. “Chloe, do you know how many times I’ve been pregnant with Carter’s babies?” “Six times. Want to know why he didn’t marry me? Because he didn’t want me to suffer. He didn’t want me to live a middle-class life. So, he came up with a brilliant plan. Find a dumb, broke girl to marry, kill her for the insurance money, and then live happily ever after with me. Isn’t he smart?” Hearing this, I couldn’t believe my ears. They were monsters. Complete psychopaths! With a sudden surge of adrenaline, I slammed my head forward, knocking Mia back. I lunged at her, my mouth open, trying to bite her. Mia screamed dramatically and fell to the floor. “Chloe! I was just trying to feed you! Why did you try to bite me?!” Hearing the commotion, Carter whipped around. Seeing me lunging at Mia, his face darkened instantly. “You psycho bitch! Mia was nice enough to feed you, and this is how you treat her?!” He rushed over and kicked me hard in the stomach, sending me rolling across the floor. “How long are you going to keep acting?! Do you seriously have to throw a tantrum in front of everyone?!” “It… wasn’t me… she forced…” I squeezed out the last few syllables with everything I had. But he didn’t give me a chance to explain. He kicked me again. “Enough! I don’t want to hear your lies anymore! You only ate a bite of crab. Even if you’re allergic, it wouldn’t be this bad! You’re just jealous of my relationship with Mia, aren’t you? I only treat her like a sister, and she treats you like family! How could you be so cruel to her? Do you think acting like this will make everyone pity you?” Carter turned around and began complaining loudly to the other diners about how controlling and demanding I was, claiming I had “princess syndrome” but lived a peasant life. His complaints quickly won the sympathy of several men in the diner. One of them yelled, “You need to teach a woman like that a lesson. If she doesn’t behave, a good beating will fix her.” Carter looked down at me with absolute disgust. “Fine. You love acting? I’ll let you act all you want. Just stay here and keep pretending. I hope you actually die this time. If you can’t keep up, you can walk back yourself.” With that, he turned and walked out of the diner without looking back. The other customers looked away, leaving the diner one by one. No one cared if I lived or died. I lay on the freezing floor, my body’s trembling slowly weakening. Every breath felt like swallowing glass, and the pain in my chest gradually numbed. My vision grew darker, and the sounds around me faded into static. Not a single person turned back to look at me. Despair, cold and heavy, began to pull me down into the abyss. Maybe… this is it… I don’t want to die yet, Dad… I don’t know how much time passed, but eventually, those two devils walked back in. I heard them whispering near my ear. “Is she dead yet? Is our insurance money ready?” Suddenly, a thunderous roar echoed through the diner. “How dare you touch my daughter!”

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During my wedding dress fitting, Julian handed me a yellowed, tattered vintage gown with frayed lace and obvious yellow sweat stains under the armpits. The makeup artist froze, her hand hovering in mid-air, and the whispers of my friends and family pierced my ears like needles. His childhood friend Mia popped her head out of the fitting room with a mischievous grin. She was wearing my custom haute couture wedding gown, spinning around in front of everyone. “Are you guys mesmerized? The real dress is right here!” My three-hundred-thousand-dollar gown had been stolen and replaced by her. I bit the inside of my cheek so hard I tasted copper, wanting nothing more than to tear her apart. But Julian just smiled in delight. “Mia, you’re always so full of quirky ideas. This is actually pretty fun. Chloe, just wear that vintage one. It’s unique.” I let out a cold laugh, threw the tattered old dress right over Mia’s head, and said, “No thanks. Why don’t you two get married instead? I’m out.” Julian roared in disbelief, “She just wanted to swap dresses for fun! It’s not like she left you naked! Don’t forget, we are getting married for our families’ sake!” I replied coldly, “Don’t forget, it was your family begging for this merger, not me begging to marry you.”

The makeup artist dropped her blush brush, and the eyeshadow palette shattered into pieces on the floor. That musty, tattered wedding dress sat mockingly on the rack. The whispers around me felt like hot needles pricking my skin. “Why is the heiress of the Vance family being given a trashy, worn-out dress?” “Is the Carter family doing this on purpose? Who gets married in that?” “I heard Chloe’s custom gown cost over three hundred thousand dollars to make…” I marched over, grabbed the collar of the musty dress, my fingernails digging deep into the cheap fabric. Cold sweat began to trace down my spine. A second later, I gestured to my maid of honor. “Search the place! Head to toe! Don’t even spare Mia’s purse!” I glanced over at the VIP lounge. My mom’s face was as white as a sheet, her hands shaking so badly her teacup was sloshing over. Beside her, my dad was frantically wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. This alliance between the Carters and the Vances was a massive deal. The venue rental alone cost a fortune. The wedding was supposed to be the event of the year. I couldn’t let it become a laughingstock! “Did one of the staff make a mistake?” My best friend Harper whispered in my ear, holding the coat I had just taken off. I remained silent. The haute couture gown had been delivered by a secure transport this morning. I had watched the staff hang it in my private fitting room with my own eyes. Unless… “Chloe,” Julian walked over, his tone incredibly dismissive. “How about we skip the fitting today? We can come back when it’s less crowded…” “No.” Harper cut in quickly. “Everyone, don’t just stand there! Did someone take the dress by mistake? Bring it out now!” “Yeah! If we find it, dinner is on us! Let’s not hold up the schedule!” I watched Harper and the boutique staff tear the fitting rooms apart, checking even behind the heavy velvet curtains. I let out a cold scoff and locked my eyes onto Mia’s hiding spot. “Stop acting. If you keep dragging this out, everyone’s going to look stupid. Hand over my dress.” The moment the words left my mouth, everyone turned to look at Mia. She took a couple of steps back, instinctively grabbing Julian’s arm. After a tense silence, she screeched defensively, “I didn’t hide it! I didn’t even go into your fitting room! How would I know where the dress went? Chloe, I know you’ve always hated me, but you can’t just accuse me like this…” Julian immediately glared at me, then turned around to pat Mia’s head soothingly. The air outside the fitting room was dead silent, but Mia’s hands were visibly shaking. “Check the security cameras. From the exact moment we walked in!” Even after playing the footage back at half-speed three times, we only caught a blurry shadow. Taking advantage of a staff member’s turned back, someone had slipped the tattered vintage dress into my fitting room. But the face was obscured. I noticed Julian’s mother checking her phone for the hundredth time, her patience wearing thin. Julian suddenly stood up and said, “Chloe, we don’t have to do the fitting today. I’ll have my assistant order a new one. We can try again some other time, okay?” He didn’t even wait for my response. Instead, he turned to look at Mia. He was clearly waiting for her approval. I clenched my fists, a suffocating weight pressing down on my chest. But at this point, causing a bigger scene would indeed leave everyone embarrassed.

I took a deep breath, preparing to speak. Suddenly, Mia stepped out from the crowd. Right in front of everyone, she unbuttoned her overcoat, revealing my custom haute couture gown underneath. She squealed in mock surprise, “Ta-da! The dress is right here! I told you guys you wouldn’t be able to find it!” The delicate lace of the collar brushed against Julian’s arm. Without thinking, Julian reached out to gently smooth the fabric over her shoulder. That casual, intimate gesture made my chest ache with sharp betrayal. But Mia didn’t care at all. The moment she finished her little display, the entire boutique fell into a horrifying silence. Everyone stared at her, their faces painted with utter disbelief. Harper finally snapped out of her shock, her voice climbing an octave, “I knew it! Earlier, Mia said she wanted to help you check the measurements. I literally saw her walk into the storage closet with a garment bag… Oh my god, Chloe, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize she was psycho enough to actually steal your wedding dress!” Turning to Mia, Harper asked, her voice cracking with fury, “Mia, do you literally have nothing better to do with your life? Why the hell would you swap Chloe’s dress with a piece of trash?” Mia just rolled her eyes, completely unfazed. She looked up at Julian, putting on a sweet, whining baby voice, “Julian, I just wanted to give you a little surprise. Don’t you like it? I look so pretty in this dress. I’m sure Chloe wouldn’t mind letting me try it on, right?” With that, Mia snatched the tattered vintage dress from the table and shoved it into my hands, acting as if she were the star of the show. “Chloe, just wear this one. Let’s get this fitting over with!” The smug triumph in her eyes made me realize this entire farce was a calculated move. She wanted to humiliate me publicly. No wonder she had been hovering over me since we arrived. One minute she was asking about the dress details, the next she was offering to hold my things. She had been setting this trap all along. I let out a sharp, cold laugh. “So, let me get this straight. You expect me to just hand over my three-hundred-thousand-dollar custom gown to you, while I wrap myself in your tattered garbage?” The moment I said that, Mia’s eyes welled up with tears, and she sank into Julian’s chest. “Julian, I really didn’t mean to… I just wanted to play a harmless joke on Chloe. I didn’t know she would be so mean… I’ve never worn a wedding dress before. How was I supposed to know it was so fragile and off-limits?” “Even if you’ve never worn one, surely you know that stealing someone else’s property is wrong?” I sneered, staring at her pathetic act. “Or did your parents forget to teach you basic morals?” Of course she knew. If she had any respect, she wouldn’t have “accidentally” spilled red wine all over my gown at the last family gala. Back then, she had whimpered the exact same excuse, “Chloe, your dress was just so pretty. I wanted to see how it felt.” But what shocked me most was Julian’s reaction. He actually stepped in to shield her. He pried my hand away, his tone dripping with impatience, “It’s just a dress, Chloe. Mia was just having some fun. Do you really have to throw a tantrum over this?” I looked down at his tight grip on my wrist. He was frowning, looking at me as if I were a nagging nuisance. “Don’t make a mountain out of a molehill, Chloe. Everyone is watching.” I glanced over at the lounge area. Julian’s mother was wearing a tight, strained smile. His father was staring at the floor, his face completely dark. This arranged marriage was supposed to secure the Vance family’s logistics and supply chain for the Carters. In exchange, the Vance family would expand our market into the West Coast. Anyone with half a brain knew this was purely a business transaction. In an instant, all the anger drained out of me. I wasn’t calm; I was just completely, utterly exhausted. Julian didn’t notice my shift in mood. He pressed on, “I’ll just have my assistant order another custom gown. Stop causing a scene, okay?” He spoke to me with the patronizing tone one would use on a hysterical toddler. Then, my eyes fell on the pearl necklace around Mia’s neck. It was a rare piece I had dropped hints about for months, yet Julian always “forgot” to get it for me. I burst into a sudden laugh. “Don’t bother ordering a new one. The wedding is off.” The entire fitting room went dead silent. Every eye in the room snapped to me like daggers. The hanger clattered out of a staff member’s hand. Julian grabbed my arm, his grip painfully tight. “Chloe Vance! Have you lost your mind? You’re calling off the wedding over a dress?!” Mia was the one who stole the gown, brought a sweat-stained rag, and ruined the entire day. Yet, in his eyes, I was the one being unreasonable. Julian and I had been together for two years. Two years ago, my dad started convincing me that the Carter family was our best business match, so I agreed to meet him. From awkwardly forcing conversations on our first date, to pretending to share his obsession with sports cars. I was always the one adapting, the one compromising. I thought even the coldest stone could be melted if I held it close enough for long enough. The day he finally agreed to the engagement, I immediately commissioned a gown from a top designer in Paris. I chose the exact silhouette he had casually mentioned liking once. Harper told me that when I got the sketches back, I was smiling like an absolute idiot. “I begged my dad for a year to get him to agree to this partnership with your family,” I had told him back then, holding his hand. “Now, I know it was worth it.” I kept my word. I always put him first. I rescheduled board meetings just to attend his parties. I drifted away from my own friends because his moods dictated my schedule. Whenever he said, “I want to see you,” I would drop everything and run to him, no matter where I was. But everything changed when Mia returned from abroad. Our dates were constantly interrupted by her emergencies. She would snatch the anniversary gifts I bought him, whining, “Julian, I want one of these too!” Every time I got upset, Julian would just pat my head condescendingly. “Mia is practically my little sister. Stop being so petty, okay?” He didn’t know I had seen the photos on her Snapchat. She was cuddled up in his lap, wearing the luxury watch I had gifted him. He didn’t know that last week, when I went to his office to drop off some corporate documents, I saw Mia walking out of his private office wearing his suit jacket. The night before the fitting, I had sat on my balcony until dawn. I had already realized, deep down, that this marriage was a mistake.

But it wasn’t until I saw him shielding Mia just now, looking at me with pure annoyance, that I finally woke up. “Chloe!” Julian squeezed my arm harder, making me wince. “You know this is a merger. You wouldn’t dare call it off!” One by one, I pried his fingers off my arm. My gaze drifted to the pearl necklace on Mia’s neck. “The Vance family is merging with the Carters. I am not marrying you.” Julian’s grip tightened again. He leaned in close, his voice dripping with a low threat, “Chloe, if you call off this engagement, the Carters will immediately cut off your logistics channels.” He stepped closer, his eyes cold and sharp, fully expecting me to fold like I always did. But I simply turned my head, ignoring the staring onlookers, and looked him dead in the eye. “Cut off our logistics? Go ahead. The contract is clear. A breach of contract requires a ten-fold penalty. Are you sure the Carter family can afford that kind of cash right now?” His eyes widened, clearly shocked by my sudden spine. The Carters’ cash flow issues were an open secret in high society. Without our supply chain backing them up, they’d have gone under months ago. His father had practically begged my dad for this alliance. Julian had assumed I would keep playing the submissive fiancé. Too bad for him. This time, I was done. Sensing the shift in the room, Mia immediately turned on her waterworks. “Chloe, please don’t fight with Julian because of me.” She reached out to grab my arm, but I stepped back, letting her hand fall into empty air. Her eyes welled with tears as she looked up at Julian, her voice trembling. “Julian, this is all my fault. If I hadn’t put on this dress, none of this would have happened. I’ll take it off right now. I’ll tell everyone it was just a silly mistake. Please, go ahead with the wedding. Don’t let me ruin your lives, okay?” Her words sounded apologetic, but her eyes shot me a smug, silent message: Give up. He’ll always choose me. Sure enough, Julian immediately wrapped his arms around her, whispering softly, “It’s not your fault, Mia. She’s just being difficult.” Watching their pathetic little show, a wave of pure disgust washed over me. “Mia,” I interrupted, my voice perfectly calm. “Are you done acting? If you were actually sorry, you’d take off my dress and get the hell out of here, instead of fishing for sympathy.” The room gasped. Mia’s expression froze. She never expected me to call her out so bluntly. Julian immediately stepped in front of her, raising his voice, “Chloe Vance! Who do you think you are, talking to Mia like that?” I looked at him coldly. “I am the bride who was supposed to try on her wedding dress today! She stole my gown and left me a sweat-stained rag! Is that not enough? Or…” I paused, letting every word sink in. “Do you think she has more of a right to marry into the Carter family than I do?” Julian’s face completely darkened. He wrapped his hand tightly around Mia’s waist, pulling her flush against him, and let out a harsh laugh. “Fine! You want to call it off? Mia and I are leaving right now. Enjoy your empty venue! And by the way, I already booked two tickets to the Maldives. I guess I’ll just take her on the honeymoon instead.” He spat the word “honeymoon” with deliberate malice, his eyes filled with smug satisfaction. He was testing me. He was absolutely certain that jealousy would make me beg him to stay. He was sure that, like every other time, seeing him close to Mia would break my pride. But he was dead wrong. This time, I wasn’t playing his childish games anymore.

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