I threw myself in front of a speeding truck to save him. For three years, I was a ghost in my own skin—a “vegetable” in a hospital bed. When I finally woke up, he was already at the altar with someone else. Broken and discarded, I ended my life by jumping from a rooftop. But when I opened my eyes again, I was back. I was standing on that street corner, one second before the truck hit. This time, I didn’t move an inch to save him. Chapter 1 I spent over a year in grueling physical therapy. Alone. Finally, I could eat by myself, dress myself, and walk without a brace. To most people, these are the mundane basics of life. To me, they were as difficult as reaching for the stars. Even my doctors called it a medical miracle. After all, that accident had left me in a deep coma for three long years. Everyone thought I’d never wake up. They thought if I did, I’d be a hollow shell—paralyzed or brain-damaged. But I didn’t just wake up. Through a year of agonizing rehab, I got stronger. Now, if I don’t stand for too long, I look just like anyone else. I endured a level of pain most people can’t imagine. I suffered through countless mental breakdowns. And finally, the day arrived. I couldn’t wait any longer. I packed my bags and headed home, planning to surprise Caleb. He didn’t even know I was awake. But when I dragged my suitcase into our—his—apartment, my heart stopped. The place was covered in white lace and ivory ribbons. “Save the Date” cards were scattered on the counter. The house had been completely renovated. The floor-to-ceiling cat tree I had designed myself was gone. In its place stood a sleek, pink designer cabinet. My old friends were there, blowing up gold balloons. My former classmates were hanging floral garlands. My Aunt Sarah was meticulously arranging personalized party favors on a velvet-covered bed, her face lit with a celebratory glow. And my boyfriend? He was standing there in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, looking like a high-end department store mannequin. On the wall hung a massive, new wedding portrait. The girl in the photo was smiling. She looked incredibly sweet. Just then, a server carrying hot tea accidentally bumped into my arm. The scalding water splashed onto me, instantly blooming into a painful red welt. The server gasped. In an instant, every head in the room turned toward me. The air sucked out of the room. I saw shock, a flicker of joy, but mostly… intense, suffocating awkwardness. My aunt dropped the favor she was holding. It rolled across the hardwood floor in the dead silence. Caleb’s pupils shrunk. His face went ghostly pale. “Elara?” he whispered, his voice trembling as if he were seeing a ghost. I forced a smile that felt more like a jagged wound. I didn’t know how to answer. My body acted on instinct. I took two steps back, turned, and bolted out the door. It was autumn in the city. The wind was biting, and dead leaves were piled along the sidewalk. As I ran, they crunched under my feet—a brittle, harsh sound. Because of the lingering effects of the coma, I wasn’t fast. That short distance cost me every ounce of my strength. Suddenly, a pair of arms wrapped around my waist from behind, pulling me into a hard chest. Caleb held me, his entire body shaking. “You’re back,” he choked out. “Elara, God… I missed you so much.” My tears fell onto his expensive suit. I was back. But it felt like everything was gone. Chapter 2 Caleb went to his fiancée’s house to break off the engagement. The wedding was scheduled to happen in eighteen hours. My Aunt Sarah sat on the edge of my bed, stroking my hair, her eyes red from crying. “Don’t be too hard on Caleb, honey. These four years… he suffered so much.” “If it wasn’t for that girl, he might not have made it through.” I felt a lump in my throat. My eyes drifted to the corsage pinned to her dress. A vibrant red rose with a ribbon that read: Matron of Honor. She quickly covered it with her hand, a look of deep shame crossing her face. “Elara, I didn’t mean to betray you. I just…” “I just never thought you’d wake up.” Her voice trailed off until it was barely a whisper. I swallowed the metallic taste of blood in my mouth. Just as the tears threatened to spill over, I forced out a sentence. “I just got back. I’m jet-lagged. I need to sleep.” I pulled my hand away from hers and crawled under the covers. I pulled the duvet over my head and curled into a ball, shaking. This pain… it was a hundred times worse than the physical therapy. I found myself praying it was a nightmare. Just like the dreams I had in the early days of rehab—dreams where I was still a “vegetable,” unable to hold a spoon, drooling, unable to even use the bathroom… Hours passed before the bed dipped. I knew Caleb was back. The silence was deafening. Finally, I sat up to face him. Two buttons were missing from his shirt. His tie was shredded. His face was bruised and bloodied at the corner of his mouth. “Did they hit you?” I asked. “It’s fine. I deserved it.” I understood. The invitations were out. The venue was paid for. To bail the night before the wedding—the bride’s family wasn’t going to let him walk away unscathed. If I hadn’t come back, tomorrow they would have stood before God, exchanged rings, and started a life. The thought made me dig my nails into my palms. I asked the question that had been burning a hole in my heart. “Caleb, did you think I was never coming back, too?” He bit his lip, his eyes downcast. After a long pause, he whispered, “Elara, I’m here now. I’m never leaving you again.” He didn’t answer the question. And that promise—so full of pity—hurt more than the truth. Suddenly, Caleb’s phone buzzed. The lock screen popped up: a photo of him and that girl. The caller ID read—My Princess. He had even set the font to a cute, bubbly script. My Princess… What a sweet name. Once upon a time, that’s what he called me. Noticing my gaze, Caleb quickly hit ‘Ignore.’ But the person on the other end didn’t give up. The phone buzzed again and again. Caleb finally shut the phone off entirely. He looked at me, full of guilt. “I’m sorry. She… she just needs time to process.” He paused, then added, “But don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” “How long were you together?” I asked. The question caught him off guard. He gripped his phone tightly. “A year,” he rasped. I closed my eyes. A year. While I was hiding the news of my recovery because I was afraid my “broken” self would scare him… While I was falling and bleeding as I re-learned how to walk… while I was biting my tongue raw trying to speak… while I was crying in a bathroom because I couldn’t undo my own buttons… While I was pushing through the darkness, thinking only of the day I could be whole for him… He was falling in love with someone else. Chapter 3 Caleb’s promise to stay forever lasted exactly one day. He left in a hurry because Chloe—the girl—had fallen ill. Before he left, he swore he was just going to check on her, make sure she was okay, and then end it for good. One week passed. He didn’t come back. Cold and hollow, I began packing up every gift and trinket he had ever given me. I was going to send it all back. I wasn’t pathetic. I wasn’t going to beg for a man’s love. And I wasn’t stupid. If he had really cared, he would have found out I was awake. Nathan, my foster brother, tried to hide the news at my request, but a year is a long time. If Caleb had looked for me, he would have known. I had spent years making excuses for him. He’s busy. Flights are expensive. The distance is too far. He has his parents to care for… I was tired of making excuses. I was done with him. As I was carrying a box out to the mail, his “fiancée” showed up at my door. Chloe was wearing a loose sundress and holding a folder from a women’s health clinic. She saw me staring at the folder. She gently stroked her stomach and smiled. “Caleb and I were hours away from being husband and wife, Elara. You didn’t think we were just holding hands this whole year, did you?” Her smug look triggered a memory. I recognized her now. She was the “little sister” from our college days who always hung around him—Chloe. No wonder my aunt was the Matron of Honor. She and Chloe’s father had been high school sweethearts. “Are you trying to guilt him into staying with you?” Chloe asked, tilting her head with a look of fake innocence. She reached into my box and pulled out a soda tab. It was the “promise ring” Caleb gave me in college. He told me one day he’d replace it with a real diamond. Ironically, the real diamond was now on her finger. “Don’t be delusional,” she whispered. “He knows he’s going to be a father. He’s thrilled.” She tossed the soda tab onto the ground like trash and leaned into my ear. “Let me tell you a secret. Caleb and I have had a thing for a long time. Four years ago, the day of your accident? He was actually on his way to break up with you.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. I remembered his stuttering that day. I remembered his silence over the last four years. The “heroism” I thought I had displayed… it was all a joke. As I turned to walk away, Chloe intentionally bumped into me. The box in my arms fell, spilling my memories across the pavement. She looked at me with pure triumph. She had won. But as she stepped back, she slipped on a crystal bracelet that had fallen from the box. She lost her balance and tumbled down the porch steps. Blood began to pool under her dress. She screamed, calling me a murderer. Caleb appeared out of nowhere, rushing to her side. He shoved me back so hard I nearly fell. “Elara! How could you be so cruel?” My heart was dead, but I wasn’t a doormat. I stepped forward and slapped Caleb across the face. “I’m not the one who’s disgusting here,” I spat. Chloe’s family called the police. They wanted me in jail. My aunt looked at me as if I were a stranger, desperate to distance herself from me. My old friends whispered that I was a psycho. But then, the evidence came out. Nathan had installed a Ring camera at my front door. It caught everything—Chloe’s smug face, her confession, and her own clumsy fall. She had tripped on her own greed. The day Caleb came to apologize, I was standing on the edge of the apartment building’s roof. The stars I used to love were blocked out by the city smog. “Elara, I was wrong! I should have trusted you. Please, come down. I’m begging you!” My aunt was there, too. “Elara, I’m so sorry! Don’t do anything stupid!” It’s funny. When you decide to leave the world, the world suddenly decides to love you. I stood on the ledge, a leaf ready to drop. Caleb fell to his knees, sobbing, saying he loved me. I was just so tired. Between the rehab and the heartbreak, my mental health had shattered. I needed pills just to close my eyes. I thought Caleb would be my salvation, but he was the one who pushed me into the abyss. I had lost four years of my youth. I had lost my health. I had lost the ability to love. I wasn’t ever going to be okay again. I opened my arms, letting the cold wind whip through my hair. As I tipped backward into the air, I looked at Caleb and whispered: “I curse you to never find a single soul who truly loves you.” Chapter 4 I didn’t expect to wake up. But when I opened my eyes, I was back. Back to the day of the accident, four years ago. A younger Caleb stood before me, looking at his shoes. “Elara, look… I actually…” “You want to break up, right?” The familiar scene played out, and I couldn’t help but finish his sentence for him. He snapped his head up, looking at me in total shock. “You’re seeing Chloe. You’ve been cheating on me for at least three months.” I took a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of relief. “I agree. We’re done.” I said it so casually, as if I were talking about the weather. Caleb panicked. “I wasn’t cheating! I don’t know who told you that, but I’d never betray you! I just…” His voice dropped. “I just don’t think we’re right for each other.” Hilarious. He chased me for a year. We were together for four. And only now did he decide we weren’t “right.” I scoffed. In the distance, the clock tower struck eight. Snow began to fall. The traffic light at the intersection flickered and went out. Everything was exactly like the first time. “Caleb, I was going to give you a chance. If you had just been man enough to admit you liked someone else, I would have respected that.” “But you don’t even have the courage to admit your own mistakes.” I took a step back, looking at him with pity. At twenty, Caleb was handsome and full of life. But inside, he was hollow. It took me two lifetimes to see it. Just then, the screech of tires echoed through the street. Two blinding headlights cut through the snow. A massive truck was careening toward the curb—straight toward me. In my first life, I had lunged forward to push Caleb out of the way. This time, I saw Caleb’s first instinct. He turned and scrambled back, desperate to save himself. But the truck hit a stone pillar, swerved violently, and fishtailed—straight toward Caleb. CRASH. The world went silent. The pristine white snow was suddenly stained a deep, shocking crimson. A single tear escaped my eye. If Caleb had run toward me—like I had run toward him in my first life—the truck would have hit the brick wall behind us. We both would have been fine. But he didn’t. The boy I had loved since I was sixteen didn’t even look back at me. As they loaded Caleb into the ambulance, I picked up his phone from the snow. A notification popped up. Exactly one minute ago, Chloe had posted a photo of them kissing. The caption: Finally, you’re all mine. The comments were full of “congrats” from Caleb’s friends—the same ones who called me “sister-in-law” yesterday. Only one comment stood out. It was from Nathan, my foster brother: In this day and age, do people really have no shame? The comment was deleted seconds later. My parents died when I was young. My aunt took most of the insurance money. Nathan was the one who raised me. He dropped out of college and worked two jobs just to pay for my tuition. In my first life, he was the one who stayed by my hospital bed for four years. I dialed Nathan’s number. The background was noisy—he was likely at the warehouse where he worked. Nathan wasn’t a tech mogul yet. He was just a guy trying to survive. “Nate,” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I miss you.” Chapter 5 Nathan borrowed a beat-up pickup truck and drove halfway across the state through a blizzard to get to me. The first thing he said was: “Don’t cry, Elara. If you still want Caleb, I’ll find a way to make him leave that girl.” His eyes were fierce. He looked ready to throw hands with the world for me. My heart warmed. In my first life, he was the first person I saw when I woke up from the coma. He taught me to eat, to speak, to walk. He never cared if I made a mess. He never judged me. The hospital staff used to whisper that I was a burden, that I’d never get married. Nathan had shouted at them, saying if I never married, he’d take care of me forever. He was my true salvation. Why had I been so obsessed with Caleb? At least in this life, I was healthy. “I don’t want him anymore,” I said, climbing into the truck. “Let’s go to his place. I’m moving out.” I needed a clean break. We went to the apartment Caleb and I shared. An entire wall was filled with my dance trophies. I remembered how excited I was when we moved in. I had picked out the plants, the rugs, the furniture. I thought this was my “forever” home. Slowly, I packed it all into boxes, erasing every trace of myself. I left the keys with the super. When I finished, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Cutting my losses early was a lesson that cost me a lifetime to learn. Just then, I got a text from one of Caleb’s friends. Elara, Caleb was in a wreck. They had to amputate his right leg below the knee. He’s at Mercy Hospital… I didn’t even finish reading. I blocked the number. Chapter 6 A month passed. I was back at school, excelling in my classes and winning a major scholarship. The campus was buzzing with two stories. First, that Caleb had cheated on me with Chloe. Second, that Caleb was now an amputee. “There’s a third story,” my roommate Maya whispered as we sat in the dining hall. Maya knew everything. “Chloe went to see him in the hospital. When she found out about the leg, she almost fainted. As soon as he woke up, she dumped him. She told him she was too young to spend her life with a ‘cripple.’” “Talk about karma. They went public and broke up on the same day.” Maya looked at me. “Seriously, Elara, you dodged a bullet. That guy would have dragged you down with him.” I stared at my shoes. Losing a limb, being dumped by the “love of his life,” seeing his future crumble… Now he knew how it felt. A few weeks later, Caleb was discharged. His friends tried to throw a “Welcome Home” party to cheer him up. They actually had the nerve to tag me in the group chat. Elara, Caleb’s been in the hospital for a month and you haven’t visited once. You have to show up for the homecoming! They even sent a location pin. Did they forget how they cheered when Chloe posted that picture? I was about to reply when Maya beat me to it. You guys are tagging the wrong person. Elara is the ex-girlfriend he cheated on. She doesn’t owe him a damn thing. The chat went silent for a minute. Then someone replied: He’s disabled now. Can’t she let the past go? Are you kidding? Maya recorded a voice memo. Caleb only lost a leg. Elara lost her heart! I hugged her. She was the best “internet bodyguard” I could ask for.

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At a college reunion, I lost a game of Truth or Dare. My classmates dared me: “Call the person pinned at the top of your text messages and say, ‘Honey, I miss you.’” I had to bite the bullet and make the call. I said the words. To my absolute shock, the voice on the other end replied, “Yeah, I miss you too.” My classmates’ eyes lit up with gossip, immediately interrogating me about when I had secretly gotten married. Help me! The person on the other end of the line was my tyrannical boss. We aren’t even close! During the Thanksgiving break, some old college classmates organized a reunion. Faced with the endless, invasive questions from my aunts and uncles back home, I seized the opportunity to escape. At the reunion, we started playing Truth or Dare. The entire evening passed without incident until the very end of the game, when I finally lost. Looking at the pack of wolves around me, their eyes practically glowing green as they dug up everyone’s deepest secrets, I nervously chose “Dare.” A classmate smirked, “Call the person pinned at the top of your text messages and say, ‘Honey, I miss you.’” Oh, crap. The person pinned at the top of my messages was my boss. After all, he’s the one signing my paychecks. It’s only natural I keep his thread pinned so I don’t miss any important work messages. I hesitated. “Um, that might be my boss…” “You’re married?” a classmate asked. I shook my head. “Then make the call!” I had no choice but to dial the number, praying silently that he wouldn’t answer. But before the third ring, Alexander’s deep, resonant voice came through the speaker. “What is it?” Under the expectant gazes of everyone in the room, I gritted my teeth and forced out the words: “Honey, I miss you.” There was a pause on the other end. Right before I could hang up, he spoke. “Yeah, I miss you too.” Seeing everyone covering their mouths, staring at me in silent shock, I hurriedly ended the call. “I’m not married. It’s not what you think.” My classmate waved his hand dismissively. “We get it, we get it. Office romance. Keeping it low-key! We understand!” I rubbed my temples, exhausted. No, you really don’t. I could only take solace in the fact that I didn’t have to go into the office for a few days. Otherwise, I’d probably die of embarrassment right in front of Alexander. But Alexander saying something like that… he must have been drunk. He’ll probably forget all about it by tomorrow. The next day, I had completely pushed the incident to the back of my mind. Early the next morning, I could hear my dad laughing through my bedroom door. Then, I heard my mom knocking gently. “Olivia, time to get up,” she said softly. I was just wondering why my mom was in such a good mood today, speaking so sweetly, when she added: “Your boyfriend is here. Come on out.” I practically jumped out of bed and yanked the door open. “What boyfriend? Who has a boyfriend?” My mom smiled so broadly her crow’s feet crinkled. “Yours, of course! Really, Olivia, why keep such an amazing guy a secret? You should have brought him home sooner.” I looked past my mom and saw the back of a man sitting on the living room sofa, wearing a crisp suit. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, sitting tall and composed. Wait a minute. Is this a scammer? Or someone trying to sell us insurance? I pulled my mom into my room and gently closed the door. “Mom,” I whispered. “Did that guy ask you for money?” My mom playfully swatted my arm. “What kind of nonsense is that? The young man came to visit for the holidays, and I gave him a little gift card as a welcome. How does that make him a scammer?” I grimaced. “But Mom, I don’t have a boyfriend.” My mom paused. “Well, an ex-boyfriend counts, right? He’s already at the door. You two could rekindle things! He’s so handsome, and I even gave him a $500 gift card!” “What?!” I couldn’t hide my shock. “You only gave me fifty bucks! Am I even your biological daughter?” My mom rolled her eyes at me. “No, you were a free gift when we signed up for a new phone plan. I couldn’t possibly have given birth to someone this dense. Fine, if he’s not your boyfriend, he must have the wrong house. I’ll go kick him out before he gives me a headache.” I stopped her. “No, wait. I have to get that gift card back. We can’t just lose $500.” “You exasperating child. It’s the holidays. Don’t go starting trouble.” My mom tried to grab me, but I dodged her with a swift maneuver. I sprinted into the living room, shouting at the man, “Happy Holidays, Mister! Wishing you a prosperous…” I looked at the boss sitting in front of me and forcibly swallowed the rest of my sentence. Looking at my impeccably dressed boss, I suddenly remembered I hadn’t even brushed my teeth yet, and my hair was a bird’s nest. In that moment, the awkwardness made me want to melt into the floorboards. Alexander stood up and looked at me, his eyes surprisingly gentle. “Olivia, Happy Holidays!” I was completely lost. Did my boss take the wrong medication today? Alexander continued, “I didn’t want to make our relationship public so soon either. But when you called me that night, my parents overheard and figured it out. Now they’re asking when I can bring you over to meet them.” In a flash of realization, I finally understood Alexander’s logic. He must have thought that when I called him that night, other people had overheard and misunderstood. So, he came over to return the favor, intentionally causing a misunderstanding with my family as payback. Petty and vindictive. Classic Alexander. But did he really think I was scared of him? A free shield delivered right to my door? I’ll take it. I affectionately linked my arm through his. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Alexander stiffen slightly. I couldn’t help but smirk. “Mom, Dad, let me formally introduce you. This is Alexander. My boyfriend.” Sitting in the living room munching on some snacks, I watched him get interrogated by my parents like he was undergoing a background check. I couldn’t help but cackle internally. Take that, Alexander. At the dinner table, I struck again, constantly putting food on my boss’s plate—fatty cuts of meat, raw garlic, ginger, cilantro, and anything else I knew he hated. By the end of the meal, I had earned a look from my boss that transitioned from confused disbelief to barely suppressed rage. I gave him a modest smile. “I know you love these. Eat up! Don’t be shy!” Under the table, Alexander reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it warningly. “I really appreciate this.” Feeling the threat, I wisely lowered my head and focused on my own food. My mom suddenly asked, “How long have you two been together? When are you planning to get married?” I looked up at Alexander, eager to see how he would spin this. Alexander looked at me, his face the picture of devotion. “Although Olivia and I haven’t been together that long, we understand each other deeply. I can’t imagine my future without her in it.” I rubbed the goosebumps on my arms, feeling a sudden chill. I gave Alexander a pointed look, trying to signal him not to make it so ridiculously cheesy. Alexander’s lips curled into a faint smile as he continued, “I was hoping we could get married as soon as possible, but the courthouse is probably closed for the holidays. We might have to wait a couple of days. As for the wedding, our families can take their time planning it. We won’t skip any of the traditional steps.” Wow. I was absolutely floored. The chicken wing I was holding slipped from my chopsticks and fell onto the table. I angrily kicked Alexander under the table. There has to be a limit to this nonsense. How was I supposed to explain this to my parents later? Tell them he died and the wedding’s off? My dad seemed hesitant. “Isn’t this a bit too fast? You’ve only just met us.” Alexander looked at me, his eyes so tender it was almost unbelievable, as if we were truly a deeply in love couple. “When it’s the right person, it’s just a matter of time. But I’d rather do it sooner than later.” Saying this, he casually pulled a large ring of car keys from his pocket. “By the way, sir, are you planning to take a road trip over the break? I have quite a few cars in my garage just gathering dust. You should come by and pick one out. It’ll make your commute much easier.” I clearly saw my dad’s eyes widen. Alexander then turned to my mom. “Ma’am, I know you worry about Olivia. I have a few properties in the city. We’ll live in one of them when we get married. You can pick one out for yourselves, too. That way, it’ll be easy for Olivia to visit you whenever she misses home.” My mom’s face instantly lit up. She pulled out our family’s important documents file and slapped it on the table with gusto. “Oh, nonsense! Stop calling me ‘Ma’am.’ It’s time to start calling me ‘Mom’!” As one of the people involved in this transaction, I was left utterly dumbfounded. Snapping back to reality, I desperately tried to stop this farce. “Actually, we’re not—” Alexander suddenly grabbed my hand, a gentle smile in the corners of his eyes, interrupting me before I could finish. “From now on, all my paychecks will go straight to Olivia. I promise I’ll never give myself a chance to mistreat her.” “This is the engagement gift,” Alexander leaned in and whispered in my ear. “It’s seven figures. If you think it’s too little, I can add more. The PIN is my birthday.” Looking at the bank card suddenly pressed into my hand, my wrist suddenly felt like it weighed a ton. I fell silent. I surrendered. Ugh, the sugar-coated bullets of capitalism are just too sweet. … The Monday after the holidays. A good day to go back to work. I clutched my ID documents, hesitating to get into the car. Alexander looked at me through the window, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel, exuding an intense, oppressive aura. “Having second thoughts?” Faced with sudden, immense wealth, it’s hard not to lose your head. But once clarity returns, hesitation and suspicion are inevitable. “Why do you want to marry me? I’m so ordinary, and we barely know each other. Even if you just need someone to get your family off your back, it shouldn’t be me.” I cautiously took a step back. To be honest, I had thought about this carefully over the past few days. I suspected he wanted to trick me into going home with him so he could harvest my kidneys, or maybe he wanted to cut out my heart to give to his sick childhood sweetheart. Or maybe he had his eye on my corneas. Alexander suddenly chuckled. “You’re not ordinary. You’re different from everyone else. You’re very special.” The way he looked at me was like a pool of warm spring water, so tender it could drown a person. I felt my ears burning. “How am I different from everyone else?” I shot back. As soon as the words left my mouth, I realized my tone was all wrong. It sounded like I was playfully flirting with him. The manipulative tactics of a capitalist are truly terrifying! Feeling a bit embarrassed and angry, I blurted out, “Alexander, I suspect you’re involved in organ trafficking!” Alexander let out a soft laugh. “What, are you trying to say I stole your heart?” My face instantly burned bright red. “That’s not what I meant at all!” Who even uses cheesy pickup lines like that anymore? Alexander’s eyes were still smiling. “Are you standing so far away because you’re afraid I’ll steal your heart if you get too close?” “Bullshit!” I angrily climbed into the car and glared at him defiantly. “See? I’m not scared of you. Stop talking nonsense!” “Alright. Since you’re not scared, let’s head to the courthouse.” It wasn’t until we were on the road that I realized something was wrong. Wasn’t I just trying to back out? How did I suddenly end up in the car heading to the courthouse? At the entrance to the courthouse, I stopped dead in my tracks, refusing to take another step. Alexander turned to look at me. “What’s wrong?” I looked at Alexander’s face, gritted my teeth, and said, “Boss, I’m sorry. I don’t think we’re a good fit. You should find someone else to marry.” Alexander stared at me intently with those deep, handsome eyes. It sent a chill down my spine, like I was being targeted by a wolf. “Tell me, how exactly are we not a good fit? Or do you already have someone you like?” “We barely know each other. I can’t handle living with someone I’ve almost never spoken to, let alone sleeping in the same bed with them.” Alexander took a step closer, looking down at me. “Any other reasons?” I kept my head down, not daring to look at him. “I don’t want to easily trade away half my life just for money. I think the most important thing in life is to be happy. Besides, it’s not like I’m the only person you could marry.” Alexander suddenly placed his hand on my shoulder. I instinctively looked up and met his deep, dark, and unreadable gaze. He said softly, “You have a point. Actually, living in the moment and enjoying life is also very important.” Sensing danger, I hastily brushed his hand away, completely missing what he had just said. “Stay away from me.” I noticed his expression darken slightly and quickly tried to smooth things over. “I… I just think you’re standing too close. It’s getting hot.” I regretted it the moment I said it. It’s the middle of winter; how could it be hot? “It’s fine. I’m not forcing you.” Alexander rubbed his temples, returning to his usual demeanor. “I just need someone to help me deal with my family, and you happened to stumble into the situation. Plus, you happen to be a suitable candidate.” He let out a long sigh. “I should have been clearer with you. We can sign a prenuptial agreement. You won’t have to fulfill any ‘wifely duties.’ If you meet someone you like in the future, you can ask for a divorce. And while we’re married, I’ll hand over my salary every month.” I immediately started wavering again. “So we’ll sleep in separate rooms after we’re married? And… how much is your monthly salary?” “Whether we sleep in separate rooms is up to you, though we might occasionally need to keep up appearances for my family. My base salary is only $30,000 a month. Most of my income comes from dividends. While we’re married, you can expense any furniture, luxury goods, or gifts to me.” The scales in my heart began to tip. It was hard not to be tempted by those terms. Alexander continued, “If you’re still worried, I can have someone draft a marriage agreement listing all the conditions I just mentioned.” “Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked. Alexander glanced down at his watch, his face shifting into a strictly business expression. “I can give you three minutes. I have a meeting this afternoon. I don’t have time to waste.” “What about in a few days?” I pressed. Alexander frowned at me, then gave a short, slightly mocking laugh. “My time is very valuable. The entire holiday break is over, and you still haven’t made up your mind? Or have you just been playing me this whole time?” I suddenly didn’t dare to speak. I didn’t know why Alexander’s attitude had suddenly shifted, becoming so intensely intimidating. But it reminded me that this was exactly how he was at the office. High and mighty, decisive, serious, and unapproachable. This was his true self. Alexander urged, “Have you decided? Three minutes are up.” His tone was growing impatient. I quickly blurted out, “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.” I took a deep breath and stepped into the courthouse like a soldier marching to the front lines. High risk, high reward. It was just a marriage, nothing to be afraid of. Looking at the freshly printed marriage certificate in my hands, I still couldn’t quite believe it. I remembered swearing in the past that I was going to be single forever. When I retired, I was going to travel the world alone, free and unburdened. How did things suddenly end up like this? The marriage certificate was suddenly snatched from my hands. I looked up and saw Alexander casually sliding my copy of the certificate into the inner pocket of his coat. I couldn’t help but object. “Boss, that one is mine. We each get one!” “I earned this marriage fair and square, so naturally, I get to keep all the certificates.” Alexander gave me a sidelong glance. “Got a problem with that?” I blinked, refusing to back down. “You say that like you could have gotten married all by yourself! Give it back!” Alexander leaned against the car door, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at me. “You want it that badly? Come and get it yourself, then.” I glared at him. Pervert! How did he expect me to get it? Did he want me to act like some kind of creep and grope him in public? Alexander offered a seemingly helpful reminder. “Time is ticking. If you want it, you better hurry.” Seeing the uncontrollable smirk on Alexander’s face, I realized for the first time that outside of work, he was actually a very irritating, manipulative person. “If you don’t want it, then forget it. Let’s get in the car and go back,” Alexander said with a look of feigned regret. Yeah, right. Seeing the smug satisfaction he couldn’t hide, I felt even more stifled. Smile, smile, smile. What’s there to be so smug about? Why isn’t he wearing his usual resting funeral face now? I angrily bumped his shoulder and walked all the way around the car to get into the passenger seat. Shortly after, Alexander opened the driver’s side door and got in. I shot him a glare, then immediately turned to look out the window. “Little pufferfish!” Alexander’s voice sounded right next to my ear. I hadn’t realized when he leaned in so close. When I turned my head, I was face-to-face with his flawless, enlarged features. My heart gave a violent lurch. I leaned back, putting some distance between us, trying to calm my racing heart before demanding, “Why did you suddenly get so close? You scared me.” Alexander’s tone was completely innocent. “I’m about to start driving. You didn’t have your seatbelt on.” With that, he reached over my right shoulder, pulled the seatbelt across, and buckled it. “I have hands! Couldn’t you just use your words to remind me?” I said indignantly. Alexander raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, his attitude sincere. “I’m sorry, little pufferfish, my mistake. Next time I’ll definitely use my words instead of my hands.” “Who are you calling a pufferfish? You’re the pufferfish!” “Right, right, we’re both pufferfish.” Alexander’s tone was dismissive. “I’m taking you home to see our parents.” “We’re going to see your parents?” … I looked at the grand, imposing house in front of me, then looked down at myself—dressed casually, empty-handed. I wanted to cry. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? Do I look appropriate for this?” Alexander frowned. “Why wouldn’t you be? We’ve already got the certificate. You’re not trying to back out now, are you?” Alexander reached out to hold my hand, but I impatiently shook him off. I was speechless. Why did he act like getting a piece of paper meant everything was perfectly fine? Did he think a marriage certificate was some kind of magical talisman? I was getting angry. “I didn’t prepare anything at all. It’s incredibly rude!” Alexander suddenly started laughing. “So you do care what my parents think of you.” He took my hand again, his face showing a hint of apology. “Sorry, it’s my fault for not telling you about meeting my family beforehand. But I’ve already prepared the gifts. They’re in the trunk. I’ll have someone bring them in later. Let’s go inside first. Don’t worry, they’re very happy with you. They won’t care what you’re wearing.” As we approached the door, I suddenly remembered something. “Wait a minute. Didn’t you say you had a meeting this afternoon? Why are we suddenly at your parents’ house?” I stopped, staring at him suspiciously. Alexander raised an eyebrow, speaking with absolute seriousness. “Isn’t bringing you home a very important meeting? What’s the problem?” But this plan was clearly based on the premise that I would agree to marry him. And he had already bought the gifts in advance. He had been absolutely certain I would say yes. Damn it. I felt like I had just stepped into another trap set by this capitalist. I suddenly had the urge to turn and run. The fact that a capitalist had put so much effort into securing me… was he really eyeing my internal organs? Alexander suddenly placed his hand on my shoulder, gripping it firmly. His tone was measured and calm. “You can run, but you can’t hide. We’re at the finish line. Am I going to have to push you through the door, or are you going to walk in yourself?” Ugh, is he the tapeworm living in my stomach? How does he know exactly what I’m thinking? I reluctantly knocked on the door. Once inside, I realized the Crawford family home wasn’t some terrifying dragon’s lair. It was more like a spider’s web, designed to entangle and corrupt me with wealth. Alexander’s parents weren’t what I had imagined. They both looked prosperous and were incredibly warm and welcoming to me. “This must be Olivia,” his mother said, smiling at me. “You look so sweet. A perfect fit for our family.” Saying that, she slipped a heavy gold bracelet and a ring off her own hands and slid them directly onto mine. His father quietly handed me a sleek black credit card. “Buy whatever you need. We have terrible taste, so the things we pick out never suit you young people.” I wasn’t sure if I should take it, so I glanced at Alexander. Alexander looked completely unfazed. “Take it. It’s just a small token from Mom and Dad.” Alexander’s parents were warm but respectful of boundaries, never making me feel pressured. After lunch, they even pulled me in to play a game of Monopoly. “We need a fourth. Come play, Olivia, otherwise we don’t have enough people.” Alexander’s parents and their live-in housekeeper made exactly three. “I don’t know how to play. Let Alexander play,” I declined. Alexander’s mother took my hand, smiling warmly. “That’s okay. Let Alexander teach you. If you lose, it comes out of his pocket.” “Go play. Don’t worry, I won’t let you lose too badly,” Alexander said, giving me a gentle push. Left with no choice, I was dragged to the game table. Whatever, if I lose, I lose. At the table, with Alexander’s guidance and his parents clearly going easy on me, a total novice like me kept winning left and right. I experienced the joy of winning for the first time. “Mom and Dad are really great people.” I slumped back in my seat in the car, counting a thick stack of crisp new twenty, fifty, and hundred dollar bills, practically flying high on happiness. Alexander glanced at me in the rearview mirror. “You like them? Then we can come visit them more often.” I wiggled around excitedly in the back seat. I smiled broadly. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly impose.” Alexander let out a soft chuckle but didn’t reply. “Where are we going now, boss?” I asked. “You’ll know when we get there.”

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During a brand livestream, I couldn’t fight the nausea and ended up throwing up twice on camera. A minute later, Carter Sterling sent me a text: “Why are you throwing up? If you’re not feeling well, end the stream. I’ll come pick you up.” I replied: “I’m fine. Just thinking about you makes me sick.” Chapter 1 Carter Sterling. The current king of Hollywood, heir to a massive corporate empire, and possessor of a face so flawlessly handsome it could make girls faint with a single glance. He wasn’t just a phenomenal actor; he could play the piano like a maestro. And as of today, he was my ex-boyfriend. I’m Blair Mitchell, a newly rising starlet in the entertainment industry. My career was finally on the upswing, and I had just dumped him. The main reason? I was terrified our secret relationship would be exposed and ruin my acting career. My trajectory could have ended right there. I was wide awake to the reality of this business; I absolutely refused to sacrifice my career for love. At least, that was the lie I told myself. The real reason was that Carter was trash. On Valentine’s Day, I had just wrapped up a shoot. Wanting to give him a huge surprise, I slipped into his favorite little black dress and snuck into his penthouse bedroom. Instead, he gave me the biggest surprise of my life! He walked into the apartment laughing and chatting with Chloe Vance, a wealthy socialite. I looked down at the text he had sent me just two hours prior: “Stuck on set today. Might be back really late, but I bought you a present.” I instantly felt a massive pair of green horns growing on my head. I exploded. I leaped out of his bedroom, pointed right at his nose, and screamed, “Carter! You bastard!” When he saw me, his body stiffened. His brows furrowed slightly before he casually took off his suit jacket, draped it over my shoulders, and said in a maddeningly calm voice, “Blair, I ran into Chloe downstairs. I just brought her up to grab something.” I wrenched my arm out of his grasp, threw his jacket onto the rug, grabbed the Birkin bag I had left on the bed, and glared at him. “Carter Sterling, I’m officially announcing that we are done.” He reached out and grabbed my arm again, a flash of irritation crossing his handsome face. “Blair, stop throwing a tantrum.” Chloe covered her mouth in shock, stepping forward to gently pull at my sleeve, her voice dripping with fake innocence. “Oh my gosh! Carter, are you dating this girl? I am so sorry, I had no idea! I shouldn’t have come up with you. You two talk, I’ll just leave.” She pretended to pull me back, but she didn’t even look at me. Her eyes were glued to Carter the entire time. And Carter, that jerk, actually held her back to explain! “Chloe, wait a second. I’ll be right with you.” He was holding onto me with one hand and telling her to wait with the other. Wow. It’s the 21st century, and he still thought he could have his cake and eat it too? Even if he was the crown prince of the Sterling Corporation, I wasn’t having it. I absolutely refused to swallow this humiliation. “Let go! Carter!” I yanked my arm away with all my strength and stormed out. It wasn’t until I reached the elevator that I realized he hadn’t chased after me. “Fine! Good riddance. The next one will be better,” I muttered to myself. But seeing my reflection in the polished elevator doors, my eyes stung, and two frustrating tears rolled down my cheeks. Thank God his penthouse had a private elevator. I quickly pulled a mask and sunglasses out of my purse and hid in the lobby restroom, waiting for my manager, Valerie, to bring me some normal clothes. Valerie helped me out of the dress, frowning as she scolded me. “I told you not to date him! Do you have any idea how powerful the Sterling family is? Now look what you’ve done. If you offend him, how are you going to survive in this industry?!” I pouted, staying silent and taking the scolding. “You didn’t actually offend him, did you?” Valerie paused, leaning in with a look of pure dread. I was about to answer when my stomach violently turned. “I don’t… hurk.” “What’s wrong with you?” Valerie eyed me suspiciously. “Nothing… I probably just caught a chill running downstairs,” I said, rubbing my stomach. It felt like a balloon had popped inside me, filling me with air. Once changed, Valerie and I bundled up and hailed a cab. My phone buzzed. A text from Carter: “Where are you? I’ll drive you home.” I locked the screen and tossed the phone into my bag. When we reached my apartment building, Valerie reminded me to take some medicine and make sure I was in top shape for tomorrow night’s livestream. Chapter 2 Carter and I met at a brand gala. It was freezing that winter night. As a low-tier actress, I had no choice but to wear a skimpy, backless evening gown, sitting at my table shivering. When we finally got a break, I sneaked out into the hotel corridor to soak up some of the heater’s warmth. That was when I ran into Carter, who had stepped out for some air. It was the first time I had ever spoken to him; before then, I had only admired him from afar. He was ridiculously handsome. Six-foot-two, broad shoulders, narrow waist, long legs. His tailored black tuxedo hugged his perfect physique. He was leaning against the wall with his overcoat draped over his shoulders, his cold, beautiful eyes casually sweeping over me before landing on his own shoes. He exuded an air of absolute aristocracy. I admit it, my heart skipped a beat. He fit my image of the perfect man completely. Rich, gorgeous, and talented. I lowered my head to compose myself, and then his deep, smooth voice drifted over. “Aren’t you cold?” I looked up to see him handing me his heavy overcoat. My heart went into overdrive, pounding against my ribs like a motor. I stared at his perfectly sculpted lips, totally starstruck, and mumbled, “Is this… for me?” His face remained impassive. “Who else? A ghost?” I looked around frantically, searching for cameras. I didn’t dare start a rumor with a superstar of his caliber; his rabid fanbase would tear me to shreds. He sighed. “There are no cameras here.” I carefully took the coat and wrapped it around myself. Carter lit a cigarette. The white smoke swirled around him, making him look like a mysterious prince in the dark. We stood there in silence for ten minutes before I handed the coat back to him. Strangely, after that night, I started running into him everywhere. If it wasn’t at industry events, it was at hotels. We slowly got to know each other. He invited me to a music festival, and I agreed. That night, half-drunk and flushed, I knocked on his hotel room door. “Carter Sterling. Be my boyfriend.” Yeah, I was that bold. I wasn’t going to let a perfect man slip away. I had to try. Through my blurry vision, I thought I saw a flash of smug satisfaction in his eyes before he softly replied, “Okay.” I froze, not knowing what to say. It was that easy? He pulled me forward, and I stumbled into his arms. His soft, warm lips covered mine. The crisp scent of cedar mixed with a faint hint of tobacco rushed into my senses, and I completely forgot how to resist. The hormones of new love have a way of making you lose your mind. Chapter 3 We started dating. By unspoken agreement, neither of us made it public. When Valerie found out, she tore me a new one. She said I could mess around with anyone, but never Carter Sterling. The capital behind him was immense; a small-time actress like me couldn’t afford to cross him. When he got bored and tossed me aside, I’d lose everything. But love had blinded me. I didn’t care. What was the worst he could do, eat me alive? Besides, I never expected to marry into his billionaire family anyway. As long as I had him for a while, I’d be happy. I didn’t realize that missing someone could become a physical ache, even after knowing they’re garbage. The Sterling family was a dominant force in New York, with their hands in multiple industries, including entertainment. Carter was their only son and the definitive heir. He just happened to like acting, so he played around in Hollywood. Now, I believed Valerie. You do not mess with Carter. When disaster hasn’t hit you yet, it’s easy to brush it off. The morning after our breakup, I opened my phone to a headline: “Carter Sterling Spotted with Mystery Non-Industry Girlfriend on Valentine’s Day!” I stared at the paparazzi photo of him and Chloe laughing together, and my heart clenched. So much for “stuck on set.” That evening, my livestream was popping. The chat was flooded with “Blair is amazing!” and “So gorgeous!” I had just played a very likable supporting role in a hit drama, moving me from a nobody to a rising star. I kept glancing at the clock, wondering when I could log off. My stomach was violently rolling. The next second, I gagged right at the screen. “I’m so sorry, my stomach has been acting up,” I quickly apologized. If I didn’t, the haters would come for me. “Is Blair okay?” “Poor thing!” “Ugh, I hate actors who fake being sick for attention.” I kept bowing and thanking the supportive comments, praying I wouldn’t dry-heave again. Back in the dressing room, I pulled out my phone and saw Carter’s text. Seeing his name made me furious. I fired back: “I’m fine. Just thinking about you makes me sick.” The moment it sent, I regretted it. Would he retaliate? Would he have me blacklisted? Probably not. He wasn’t that petty. My head was spinning and I felt completely drained, so I headed straight home. When I flipped on the lights in my apartment, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Carter was sitting on my couch like a stone statue. “Are you trying to scare me to death so you and your childhood sweetheart can live happily ever after?!” A smug smile touched his lips. He walked over slowly, trapping me against the wall, and whispered, “So that’s why you’re mad?” I rolled my eyes and started listing his crimes. “You lied about being on set. You went to dinner with her, got photographed by the paparazzi, and you expect me to play the fool? I’m done playing with you, Carter. Get out and go find your little princess.” He affectionately ruffled my hair, his voice gentle. “Blair, we really are just friends. I was working. She just landed at the airport and couldn’t get a ride. You know we grew up together, so I picked her up and we grabbed a quick bite. That’s it.” I was even angrier now. Oh, so I was the unreasonable one? A rich socialite couldn’t get a ride from the airport? My voice went ice-cold. “I see. So you just love drinking her poison, huh?” He blinked. “What? I prefer whiskey.” “…” My stomach churned again. I pushed past him and ran to the bathroom, dry-heaving over the sink. Carter gently rubbed my back, his voice anxious. “I’m taking you to the hospital.” “No. I just need to sleep.” After rinsing my mouth, I curled up on the couch. He sat beside me, blowing on a mug of hot water. The quiet domesticity was broken by his phone ringing. “Chloe, what’s wrong? Don’t panic, I’ll be right there.” He hung up, looking guilty. He pulled a blanket over me. “Chloe got into a fender bender. I have to go sort it out. I’ll be right back. Get some sleep.” He hurried out the door. I stared at his retreating back, my heart seizing violently. “Carter Sterling!” I screamed at the door. “If you walk out that door, don’t ever come back!” He didn’t turn around. Chapter 4 I felt too awful to sleep. Lying in bed, scrolling through my phone, a sudden thought struck me. I checked my calendar. My period was late. Panic seized me. I threw on a hoodie, grabbed a mask, and ran to the 24-hour pharmacy. Ten minutes later, I was crouched on the cold bathroom tiles, staring at two glaring red lines on the stick. My limbs went numb. “God, please tell me this is a joke.” I was in a daze all night. The next morning, I showed up to work with massive dark circles under my eyes. Valerie took one look at me and let loose. “Blair, do you want to ruin your career?! Look at your face! You’re yellow, and you look like a raccoon!” “I’m sorry, Val. I didn’t sleep well,” I mumbled, lacking the energy to fight back. “Alright, just push through. We have the charity gala tonight. We’ll leave early.” She patted the back of my head, her tone softening. Valerie was tough, but she actually cared about me. I glanced at my phone. A text from Carter: “Blair, wait for me at home tonight.” He was always like this. He never thought his actions were wrong. He always thought he was right, and that I had no right to be angry. I already told him we were broken up! But to him, it was like nothing had happened. Beneath that cold exterior, Carter was just an arrogant, thick-skinned man-child. He used to come to my apartment, complain about his private chef, and demand I cook for him. He’d tell me not to get any ideas about marrying him because I was “too nagging.” When I got mad, he’d accuse me of causing drama and give me the silent treatment. I never brought up marriage. Neither did he. I always knew we were from two different worlds. But sometimes, when he slept beside me, and I watched his peaceful face, feeling his arm subconsciously tighten around me… I couldn’t help but fantasize about forever. I ignored his text. He walked into my dressing room while I was reading a script. I decided not to tell him about the baby. But an abortion meant a week of bed rest, which meant I’d have to find a way to tell Valerie. He walked over, sat next to me, and rubbed my hair. “Tomorrow is my family’s annual gala. You’re coming with me.” I kept my eyes on the script. “I don’t want to go. I’m not feeling well. Take your little princess. We’re over anyway. Give me back my keys.” He was silent for a few seconds before saying casually, “If you don’t go, I’ll have you blacklisted from the industry.” I glared at him. He looked incredibly smug. Evil corporate tyrant. Valerie was right. I stood up, too tired to argue. “Just push through,” his voice trailed after me. “I have a surprise for you.” Chapter 5 Out of sheer lack of options, I went. I felt awful the entire week. Damn you, Carter. It was a boring, stuffy high-society event. There was no surprise. “You lied to me again,” I muttered, stabbing a piece of cake at my table, cursing him a thousand times in my head. Chloe Vance strutted toward me in her designer heels. I looked away, trying to ignore her. “Ms. Mitchell. You’re here?” her sweet, saccharine voice rang out. She used my name, so I couldn’t hide. I gave her a polite, tight smile. “Can I help you?” “I heard acting is so exhausting. Yesterday at Carter’s house, Mr. Sterling was saying how entertainers are so unpresentable. He made it very clear that Carter would never be allowed to marry an actress. It must be so hard being you, Ms. Mitchell.” Bitch. She was finally showing her true colors now that Carter wasn’t around. She wanted to mock me to my face? She picked the wrong girl. “I’ve heard Carter talk about how refined you are, Ms. Vance,” I said smoothly, taking a sip of my sparkling water. “But to be honest, I can smell the fake snake on you from a mile away.” It took her a second to process the insult. When she did, her face twisted in rage, and she raised her hand to slap me. In a room full of elites, I wasn’t going to brawl. I simply stepped to the side. Her hand, suspended in mid-air, suddenly changed direction. She grabbed a piece of cake from the table, smeared it on her own face, knocked over a tray of champagne, and started screaming. “Ms. Mitchell, why did you hit me?! Is it just because Carter and I had dinner?!” The commotion drew a horde of paparazzi, their camera flashes blinding me. She set me up. Carter appeared out of nowhere. Seeing the mess, his brows furrowed. He immediately yelled for security to lock down the room and kick the reporters out. Then he helped Chloe off the floor. He looked at me, furious. “Blair, what are you doing?” Oh, so he was blaming me. I held my ground. “She fell on her own. It has nothing to do with me.” “Carter, don’t blame her,” Chloe sobbed. “She just pushed me by accident. I’m fine.” “Blair, apologize to Chloe,” Carter said. His voice was low, but his eyes were burning. I stepped forward and slapped Chloe across the face. Hard. The entire room gasped. If I was going to be framed for it, I might as well get my money’s worth. “Blair! What the hell are you doing?!” Carter roared. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ms. Vance,” I mocked. “You wanted me to apologize, Carter? There. I apologized.” Giant tears rolled down Chloe’s pale cheeks. Any man would feel bad for her. I turned on my heel to leave. Carter grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. “Stop causing a scene! Apologize to her properly!” I looked straight into his furious eyes. “Never.” He yanked my arm, trying to pull me toward Chloe. I struggled violently. Suddenly, his grip slipped. I flew backward, my spine slamming brutally against the edge of a heavy mahogany chair. Panic flashed across Carter’s face. He rushed forward to catch me, but I violently swatted his hand away and stumbled out of the ballroom. Something inside me felt like it had shattered. A dull, agonizing pain spread through my entire body. In the cab, my lower abdomen cramped so hard I thought I was dying. I told the driver to take me to the ER. Looking at the ultrasound monitor, I saw the tiny flicker for the first time. The doctor said the baby was fine and had a strong heartbeat. “Can I terminate it?” I asked coldly. “You need to think this through. Where is your husband? Your uterine lining is extremely thin. If you terminate this pregnancy, it is highly unlikely you will ever be able to conceive again.”

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I married my childhood friend, but everyone says his “white moonlight”—his ultimate, unattainable crush—isn’t me. On our wedding night, I tactfully moved to the living room. He ripped off his towel. “What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you even look at me?” 1 [First night of marriage, what do I do if my husband, who has a ‘white moonlight’ ex, tries to seduce me? Waiting online, it’s pretty urgent.] I nervously typed these words on my screen. We had laid everything out clearly before the wedding: this was a business merger. We just needed to play the part of a loving couple in front of our parents. In private, we’d live our separate lives. Neither of us would interfere with the other. Besides, wasn’t there a rumor going around at the reception that his white moonlight was about to return? Please don’t have an episode now. I was still waiting to inherit double the family fortune! I begged him silently. [Shocking! Billionaire Secrets Revealed! Real-Life Succession Drama! Heiress Sacrifices Herself for the Company?] [Let’s go live to the scene. Our reporter brings you this exclusive scoop.] Pfft. Just one misstep from Carter tonight, and I’d already written tomorrow’s headlines for him. “Knock, knock, knock!” The sound interrupted my thoughts. “What is it?” “Come out for a second. I need to talk to you.” His cool, detached voice was exactly my type. Honestly, I was a little tempted. I have to admit, Carter had both the looks and the brains, and his voice was incredibly unique. At the very least, when he read me bedtime stories, that steady baritone could knock me out in five minutes flat. Being able to put me to sleep that fast—from childhood to adulthood, only Carter could manage it. And his body… it was pretty tempting too. But as a premium SVIP member of the “Observer’s Club,” I was quite satisfied with the unexpected scene I had just witnessed. Yielding to his tyrannical aura, but worried about any further “accidents,” I tremblingly hid behind the door, opened it just a crack, and peeked my head out. “What’s up? Spit it out.” Carter laughed out of sheer frustration. The seductive charm from earlier was gone. It seemed the cold shower had been very effective. “Chloe, do I really have zero appeal to you?” 2 Of course not. It was just that I had been through too much, and the temptation of a fifty-billion-dollar fortune was just too great. I was immune for now. Since I was little, my greatest defense against him was simply ignoring him. It wasn’t like he dared to do anything to me anyway. “Get to the point. Don’t make me lose my perfect attendance bonus.” I rolled my eyes at him ungracefully, picking at my fingernails out of boredom, leaning lazily against the doorframe, waiting for him to continue. “I have something going on tomorrow, so I’ll be back late. Next week, I’m taking you to meet someone.” Whether you come back or not is none of my business. You’re acting like no one else has things to do tomorrow. Wait? Next week? Rumor has it that’s when his white moonlight is coming back. The new flame meeting the old flame? Are we just skipping straight to the catfight? Wow~ What a classic trope: the white moonlight returns, and the official wife steps down in heartbreak. I’d love to watch that drama unfold. The premise being, it doesn’t involve me. Even though he and I had years of experience as childhood friends… But… damn it, I had no idea what this guy was planning. One second it’s a midnight seduction, the next he’s taking me to meet his white moonlight. You could never guess what kind of crazy stunts went on inside his head. I was completely bewildered. What to do? Just agree with whatever the guy says, of course. “Sounds good! Mission accepted! I’ll be there right on time.” I agreed first to placate Carter, then quickly spun around, exited the room, and locked the door in one smooth motion. “Chloe, go to sleep. I’m checking your screen time tomorrow.” “Alright, alright, I know!” 3 Carter and I grew up together. We weren’t incredibly close, but we weren’t enemies either. It was nothing like those cliché childhood-friends-to-lovers tropes you read about. He didn’t like me. He had a white moonlight he’d been pining over for years. The ironic part? I had liked him, but sadly, I didn’t have a white moonlight of my own. If you were given a choice: marry someone you used to like, and if either of you cheats or gets caught acting inappropriately with someone else, the other party has the right to take action and inherit all of their shares. Would you be willing? I certainly would. After all, this was a high-stakes gamble I was guaranteed to win. The reward was beyond imagination, and the ending was already written. Actually, I had heard from people in our circle that his white moonlight was coming back to him. Exactly one week after our wedding. So, inexplicably, we got married. It just so happened that we ran in the same circles, were the same age, and had known each other since childhood. No need to worry about bad habits or hidden diseases. It was just a pity that no one seemed to have asked Carter if there was someone he actually liked. We were naturally paired up, skipping the dating phase and heading straight for the graveyard of marriage. Childhood friends. It felt like a bond, but more like a ball and chain. Fortunately, my dear mother was very understanding. To protect my interests, the parents had a sit-down. The resulting agreement stated that if either of us cheated or filed for divorce after marriage, the other would automatically inherit their shares. Damn, manipulated again. But my heart fluttered. Inheriting billions for free? Only an idiot would say no. Carter had a white moonlight, and a heavyweight one at that, ready to return. And me, a confirmed bachelorette? Victory was practically waving at me. For the sake of financial freedom, charge! 4 At the grand and lavish wedding banquet Carter threw for me, I shamefully felt a flutter in my heart once again. The boy I played house with when we were kids was now my husband. But before I could even immerse myself in the warmth of the moment, whispers drifted over from a corner. “Hey, didn’t they say the young Mr. Crawford had an unforgettable white moonlight? Is this the wife? They actually look pretty good together.” “Shh, don’t talk nonsense. Isn’t this just a business merger? I heard he always just treated her like a sister.” “Hey, hey, hey, about that white moonlight… I heard she was the girl who lived next door to him when they were kids.” “Later, her family’s business had some issues, and they emigrated overseas, but apparently she’s coming back soon.” “Then… what about the wife?” “It’s a business marriage. That’s how things work in our circle, you know how it is.” My gaze froze. I really wanted to rip the mouths off those gossiping women. Even outsiders knew. It was a successful reminder of my actual place in all this. So, on the first day of our marriage, I very sensibly moved my things out of the master bedroom. 5 This apartment was the one under my name that was closest to my company. Unfortunately, it was a bit small—a three-bedroom place. Just enough for one person and one cat. I had planned it all out: one room for my beloved cat, one for me to sleep in, and one for storage. But Mrs. Crawford—Carter’s mom—efficiently packed up all of Carter’s things and dumped them here. I didn’t even need to ask to know it was her best friend, my dear mother, who tipped her off. Seriously, it wasn’t a big apartment to begin with. Where was he supposed to sleep? But Mrs. Crawford just smiled, her tone leaving no room for argument. “You’re newlyweds! Of course you should live together. Who lives apart right after getting married? “Didn’t we agree? Unless one party violates the agreement, isn’t fulfilling marital duties and living together a basic requirement?” I could only feel a twinge of resentment and silently pray that the white moonlight would return soon to save my life. I was just about to go make do in the guest room, but I found it stuffed full of junk by our two mothers. There wasn’t even room to stand. I have to admit, Mrs. Crawford and my mom were truly best friends. Their minds worked in perfect sync. What teamwork. What synergy. But it was useless against me. After all, what man smells as sweet as money? Only a fool turns down money, especially when you can inherit a double fortune. I definitely wouldn’t. Before my mom left, before her foot even crossed the threshold, she turned back and pulled me close, speaking earnestly. “Be a good girl. Go to bed early tonight. Less screen time, your eyes haven’t fully recovered yet! “I already told Carter to keep an eye on you. Be a good girl, okay?” It was true. I had just gotten LASIK surgery less than a week ago. 6 I usually nod along and then do whatever I want, but Carter was one step ahead. He set a rule for me: the next day, my screen time couldn’t exceed two hours. If I didn’t listen, he would call my mom. Seriously, the fact that he loves tattling is just… great. I was completely at his mercy. Time for bed. Posting on forums wasn’t urgent; staying alive was. I pulled the covers up, ready to sleep, but the moment I closed my eyes, all I could see was the scene from earlier. I had taken the initiative to move out of the master bedroom and settle for the living room. I never imagined Carter would go even further. Of all the things to do, why did he decide to try and seduce me? Why did he come to the living room, dripping wet, without drying off after his shower? With just a casual glance, I caught sight of crystal-clear water droplets tracing the deep V of his torso, sliding all the way down his waist and abdomen, disappearing into darker territory. He was like a Siren, unconsciously luring a lost traveler. I have to admit, the guy had some serious assets. It was just a pity they were hidden by the towel… Carter didn’t say a word. He made a beeline for me, grabbed my blanket, and started walking toward the master bedroom. I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew it was serious. I quickly stepped forward to stop him, accidentally knocking his hand away from the blanket. The blanket slipped from his grasp, but I didn’t care. Carter looked a bit shocked. He stared blankly at the blanket on the floor, but what happened next caught me completely off guard. He yanked open the towel, which was already tied loosely around his waist. For the first time, I heard a whiny, aggrieved, puppy-dog tone from him. “What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you even look at me?” His eyes were completely different from usual. The cold, distant look had vanished. All that remained was the steam from his shower, slowly spreading through his eyes. They were misty, as if the moment I rejected him, tears would start falling the next second. I was dazed for a half-second, but I couldn’t help obediently taking a few more looks. His abs were defined and tense, his chest wet, water dripping continuously from the ends of his hair. As the water droplets fell, a palpable aura of lust surged. Coupled with the dim night sky outside the window and the ambiguous atmosphere in the room, the seductive tension was dialed up to the max. What kind of person is this generous? Carter, wow… you really can’t judge a book by its cover. The ancients didn’t lie. 7 “Pretty good.” I looked at him, my expression playful but with a hint of sincerity. I swear, I had never been more sincere in my life. “It would be even better if I could touch it.” I blurted out. His hand reached for mine, leading it all the way down. An indescribable ambiguity spread through the air. Stop. We can’t go any further. I had a premonition that if I reacted even a second too slow tonight… the family fortune would float away. “J… just joking.” I was genuinely scared of him. I quickly broke free, stepped forward, and pulled his towel back up tightly. I also grabbed the blanket from the floor and wrapped him up securely in it. Only then did I let out a deep breath. Saved it. I will protect Carter’s chastity! Endless piles of cash were waving at me! I patted Carter, using both hands and feet to push him back toward the bedroom, my expression complex. “Go sober up, take a shower, and get some sleep.” “Slam!” That heavy sound was me almost getting hit in the face by the door, and Carter storming off and slamming it behind him. “Scheming man.” I snorted disdainfully and turned to tidy up the second bedroom. I couldn’t guarantee that Carter wouldn’t have another episode tonight. My dream life—sleeping until I naturally woke up every day, shopping with the girls during the day, hitting the clubs and checking out hot guys at night. Taking it a step further? Forget about it. 8 “Chloe, time to get up and go to the office.” The voice, devoid of much inflection, filled me with confidence for my upcoming plans. After all, feelings were nothing compared to this. A perfectly good mood was ruined the moment I heard Carter’s voice. It was morning again. Completely ignoring whether I was tired or not, the sun just decided to shine. Why are my eyes always filled with tears? Because I’m dead tired. When I arrived at the company, the first person I saw was my executive assistant, Liam, with his handsome face. It was easy on the eyes, but the moment he opened his mouth, he became the source of my misery. “Ms. Vance, here are the documents that need your signature today. Over here are the projects Mr. Vance instructed you to take over. Mr. Vance also asked me to remind you that there’s an auction this afternoon you need to attend on his behalf. “Mr. Crawford will also be there. Tomorrow… there’s also a…” Today was another day of my dad dumping his work on me. Looking sympathetically at my assistant, who was as hardworking as a little bee, I thought, Truly, a great value. I mentally gave a thumbs-up to my own excellent eye for talent back in the day. Liam pushed his gold-rimmed glasses up his nose. As his thin lips parted to continue, I quickly stopped him. “Liam, the usual rules. I’ll leave these to you.” I smiled slightly. A successful leader must learn to delegate power. After all, if there was too much, I wouldn’t be able to handle it anyway. I turned around gracefully, ready to get my outfit together for the auction. “Chloe, I just got off the plane. Guess who I saw at the airport?” My best friend sent me a text. Just as I was about to reply, she called me. “No way. You came back so early this time. Did your dad not give you extra work?” The words slipped out of my mouth. Every man for himself. It can’t just be me suffering. “Chloe, what’s that supposed to mean? I wanted to come see you as soon as I got back!” Mia’s voice was full of resentment, tinged with a little grievance. I felt a bit guilty and quickly spoke softly to her for a while until she let it go. Mia returned to normal, sounding mysterious. “Whatever, I’ll settle the score with you when I see you.” “Let’s ignore that for now. I’m telling you, I saw Carter at the airport!” “That’s normal. He has business trips lined up every month.” “He was there to pick someone up! And it was a woman! Ahhhhhh, did you hear me, girl? There’s definitely something going on with that guy!” 9 Picking someone up? I flipped through my calendar, double-checking. No way. I had specifically marked next week as—Inherit the Fortune (just kidding)—White Moonlight Returns. Could it be that God took pity on my miserable situation and decided to directly help me get rich and start my easy life? Who cares. My eyes lit up, and I held my phone like it was a precious treasure. “Baby, kisses! Thank you, my wonderful bestie, for helping me find a new direction in life.” “Babe, do you want me to come over and keep you company for a bit? I’ll go ask around…” Mia and I were both stunned for a moment. Damn it, interrupting my deep, affectionate performance that I’d been building up for so long. Before I could finish my act, she cut in, speaking quickly, “No way, are you okay?” I elegantly rolled my eyes and gave a wicked smile. “Stay right there, babe. I’ll send someone to pick you up.” After successfully picking her up, I asked Liam to take us to the auction venue. We walked in together, arm in arm, avoiding the people trying to come up and network, and headed straight for my private VIP box. “Spill it. You rich people… what’s going on with you and Carter? Didn’t you like him a lot when we were kids?” I have to admit, this private box was very well designed. It didn’t obstruct the view of the auction, but it also ensured privacy. Once the door was closed, it was an extremely private space. Not bad. I could learn from this design. I looked around the room, ignoring her question for the moment. I called Liam over and asked him who owned this venue. I learned a name that sounded vaguely familiar. The only daughter of the Montgomery family, who had just returned from abroad. Stella Montgomery.

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His mom smiled and said, “You two haven’t met yet, have you?” Met? In private, we used to make out until our lips were bruised. 1 I didn’t want to move a muscle over winter break, but my mom dragged me out for a walk in my thick sweatpants. We hadn’t walked far when my mom started waving at someone in the distance. She nudged me. “That’s my new coworker, Mrs. Davis.” I squinted. Standing next to Mrs. Davis was a guy with an incredible build and killer fashion sense. Probably her son. Was my romance-novel-loving heart finally getting its meet-cute? I poked my mom. “Is her son single? If he is, hook a girl up.” My mom flashed me an “OK” sign and pulled me forward to greet them. Mrs. Davis was beaming. “Out for a walk too? And this must be your mom?” I looked left and right, finally realizing the “mom” Mrs. Davis was referring to was me. My mom’s smile froze. “Oh, this is my daughter. She just got back for winter break, so she’s a bit dressed down. Haha.” The guy standing in the shadows wearing a black face mask let out a low chuckle. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. Mrs. Davis, looking equally mortified, quickly changed the subject. “I remember you saying your daughter is at the same college as my son. What year did she graduate?” “Oh, she graduated last year,” my mom replied. Mrs. Davis pushed the guy behind her forward. “What a coincidence! My son graduated last year too. Do you two know each other?” I finally looked up. The streetlight illuminated his sharp, deep-set eyes, the strong bridge of his nose, and the familiar little red mole on his neck… Holy crap. Is this my ex-boyfriend? Seeing us lock eyes, Mrs. Davis asked again, “So, do you know each other?” We answered in unison: “No.” And, as if perfectly choreographed, we both turned our heads away. But actually, Mrs. Davis, we didn’t just know each other. During our junior year of high school, we practically conducted our own anatomy classes together whenever we found an empty classroom. We were probably the two people who knew each other best in the world. Inside and out. While our moms chatted enthusiastically, he and I stood off to the side, the atmosphere so cold it could freeze over. Finally, Liam broke the silence. “Nice outfit. Very… avant-garde.” I stomped on his foot. He let out a muffled groan. Mrs. Davis turned around. “What’s wrong?” Liam gave a faint smile. “Nothing. A little stray dog walking by just stepped on my foot.” “Oh, as long as you’re okay,” she said, returning to her conversation. Liam called out to her, “Mom, we should get a dog. I’ll train it. I’ll teach it exactly how to be a good, obedient girl.” He was talking to his mom, but his dark eyes were fixed dead on me. “I barely have the energy to deal with you, let alone a dog,” his mom scoffed. She turned to me, beaming. “Chloe, you two should exchange numbers! You live in the same city now; you can look out for each other.” Liam, with a half-smile, pulled out his phone and opened his contact-sharing screen. Under the eager gazes of our mothers, I pulled out my phone and reluctantly scanned his screen. The guy I had blocked years ago reappeared in my messages. The last texts from our blowout fight were still sitting there. He had said: “Fine. Walk away then. See if I care.” I had replied: “Watch me. I’ll find someone ten times better than you. Go to hell.” A stark contrast to the good-girl image I was currently portraying. Seeing my mom lean over, I quickly locked my screen and played sweet. “Got it! If I ever need anything, I’ll be sure to bother Liam.” He repeated it under his breath. “Bother Liam.” He actually laughed, a deep, pleasant sound. “Anytime… Chloe.” The way he said my name—low and clear—was exactly how he used to say it when he pinned me against the back door of our high school classroom, keeping an eye on the broken security camera while he kissed me. My heart skipped a dangerous beat. 2 My mom told me to keep an open mind about Liam. She said our parents knew each other, so it was a safe bet. I rolled my eyes internally. Open mind? I know every inch of that guy. I’m sick of him. I said, “Sure, sure,” while secretly opening my phone to send Liam right back to the blocked list. The next day, however, I got a call from an unknown number. It wasn’t Liam. Heavy bass thumped in the background. “Hey, Chloe? Liam is trashed. You need to come pick him up from the Neon Lounge. VIP Room 19. Hurry.” Click. I tried calling back, but no one answered. They didn’t even give me a chance to say no. Liam, you absolute bastard. I cursed under my breath, threw on my puffer jacket, and drove to the lounge. Liam was completely wasted. Empty beer bottles and shot glasses littered the table in front of him. When I pushed the door open, I recognized a bunch of the guys. They were Liam’s high school frat-bro buddies. Back when we were secretly dating, they were our cover story. Seeing me, the guys erupted in cheers. “Hey, sister-in-law!” I glared at them. “We broke up years ago. I’m nobody’s sister-in-law.” They just snickered. The guy leading the pack shoved a plastic hotel key card into my hand. “Look, we’re a bunch of clumsy idiots. We booked him a room upstairs. We’re leaving him in your capable hands!” “I’m not taking him,” I said, kicking Liam’s shoe. He didn’t even flinch. Wow, he really is gone. I paused for a two seconds, an evil prank forming in my mind. “Fine. Help me carry him upstairs.” The guys laughed like hyenas. As they closed the hotel room door behind us, one of them actually poked his head back in. “Hey, you need us to run to the pharmacy for some… protection?” I cursed him out in my head but smiled sweetly. “No thanks. Get lost.” The room fell quiet. Liam was sprawled on the bed, his collar unbuttoned, looking incredibly peaceful. I turned on every single light in the room. I pinched his cheeks. Hard. He still didn’t wake up. Perfect. Time for revenge. I pulled a bright red lip tint from my purse and lifted his shirt. I was going to draw a giant, ugly turtle right across his abs, post it to my story, and let the world admire the former homecoming king. I leaned down, uncapped the tint, and started drawing. Okay, there’s the shell… there are the legs… wait, abs? Why were his abs this defined? Shouldn’t a guy’s stomach be relaxed when he’s blackout drunk? I slowly looked up. Liam’s eyes were wide open, looking at me with a lazy smirk. “Chloe, this position is giving me some very inappropriate ideas.” My mind went blank. He continued, his voice rough. “You like the view? I sculpted them just for you.” I tried to play it cool and stand up. “They’re alright. My current boyfriend puts you to shame, honestly.” I didn’t have a boyfriend. Liam didn’t argue. His long arm suddenly shot out. Before I knew what was happening, my face was pressed flat against his bare stomach. Warm, firm, and entirely too familiar. “If they aren’t that great, why were you staring so long?” His voice was light. “Chloe, you’re just as stubborn as ever.” Crap. The red lip tint was now smeared all over my cheek. I pushed against his chest, but everywhere my hands landed felt electric. He let out a low groan. “Don’t move.” I froze. Liam sat up, grabbing my collar. I don’t know how he did it, but suddenly our positions were reversed. I was flat on my back. He was leaning over me. He used his thumb to wipe the red smudge off my cheek, chuckling. “Chloe, the only tough thing about you is your mouth.” I turned my head away, humiliated. “You faked being drunk!” Liam buried his face in the crook of my neck. I could feel the heat radiating off him. He laughed softly. “Feel that? If a guy is truly blackout drunk, certain things wouldn’t be waking up right now.” I shoved at his shoulders. “Get off me!” He effortlessly pinned both my wrists above my head with one hand. He looked down at me, his dark eyes shimmering, his smile dangerously gentle. “I drank a lot tonight, Chloe. You know I’m capable of doing crazy things when I’m drunk, right?” I knew exactly what he was like. His parents were workaholics who were never home. During high school, I was the one who took care of him. We never crossed the final line, but the memories of what we did do when he was half-drunk still made my legs weak. I struggled harder. Liam let out a low laugh. “Relax, Chloe. I’m not going to do anything. Just stay with me for a bit.” He kept his word. He let go of my wrists, pulled the duvet over us, and laid down next to me. He threw an arm over my waist. His breathing slowed until it was deep and even. He really fell asleep. I finally relaxed, turning my head to look at him. Even after all this time, looking at his face made my heart race. He was so incredibly handsome. But you absolute jerk, I thought bitterly. Why did you have to cheat on me? 3 On Friday, my mom called me in a panic from work. One of her junior associates was getting married the next day, and the maid of honor had just tested positive for COVID. I had a bad feeling. “And?” “And they need you to step in!” I didn’t even know the bride! My mom was just being a people-pleaser again. After my mom bribed me with the promise of paying my rent for the month, I caved. “Fine, I’m heading over for the dress fitting.” When I got to the bride’s house, she looked at me like I was her savior and shoved a dress into my arms. The original bridesmaid must have been a size smaller than me. I squeezed into the strapless chiffon dress, but I couldn’t reach the zipper in the back. I cracked the bedroom door open. “Can someone help me zip this up?” The hallway was chaotic with wedding prep. No one heard me. I went back into the room to try again. The door suddenly opened and closed. Click. The lock turned. I spun around. Liam walked in, wearing a sharp black tuxedo. He looked breathtaking. I stared at him. “What are you doing here?” “I heard you were filling in as a bridesmaid. So, I volunteered as a groomsman.” He paused. “Didn’t you need help?” I shifted awkwardly. “Yeah. The zipper is stuck.” Ziiiiip. He pulled the zipper all the way down instead of up. The cool air hit my bare back. I crossed my arms over my chest, jumping. “Pull it UP!” Liam offered a completely insincere apology. “My bad. Didn’t know.” He slowly pulled the zipper up, his knuckles grazing the sensitive skin of my spine. A shiver ran through me, hitting right at my heart. By the time it was zipped, a thin layer of sweat coated my forehead. Liam kept his hands on my shoulders. We stared at our reflection in the vanity mirror. The mirror had an ornate, vintage frame. He stood behind me in a tailored tux, and I stood in front of him in a white chiffon dress. For a dizzying second, it looked exactly like a wedding photo. Through the mirror, he met my eyes. “The wedding I dreamt about for us… it looked just like this.” Before I could answer, the bride knocked on the door. “Chloe? You got the dress on? Come out so we can run through the schedule!” I brushed his hands off and walked out without a word. The wedding the next day went smoothly. Until the reception. The groomsmen were passing around a tray of tequila shots. The groom, for some idiotic reason, gestured for me to take a shot on behalf of the bride to “protect” her. A massive shot glass was shoved in my face. I couldn’t refuse without making a scene. Just as I reached for it, a long, elegant hand reached over my shoulder and took the glass. Liam smiled, but his eyes were pure ice. “I’ll take it for her.” He threw it back in one gulp. Anyone with eyes could see he was pissed. The groom looked awkward; the bride glared at her new husband. Liam looked at the bride. “I’m borrowing your bridesmaid.” Without waiting for an answer, he grabbed my wrist and dragged me away. Both of our parents watched in shock, but we were already out in the hotel corridor. Liam’s voice was tight with anger. “Why are you such a pushover around everyone else? Why can’t you be as stubborn with them as you are with me?” I tried to yank my hand back, but his grip was iron. He backed me against the mirror in the hallway restroom, tilting my chin up. His tone was fierce. “Look at your face! You’re already flushed. Your stomach is a mess, and you were about to down a shot of tequila? Are you crazy?” It was true. He never let me drink back in the day. There were times when I wanted to take things further, but he always held back. He cared about my body more than he cared about his own desires. But… I looked at him. “Who are you to lecture me? We broke up years ago. Did you forget?” He frowned. “I never agreed to it. Besides, your mom said you were single.” The memory of the text message I received during our cold war flashed in my mind. A photo of Liam sleeping, with a perfectly manicured girl’s hand stroking his cheek. Suddenly, I was just exhausted. “Stop bothering me, okay?” I pushed past him and walked out. Liam pressed his lips together, following right behind me. “I’m going to win you back, Chloe. I’m not letting you go that easily.” 4 My younger cousins dragged me to a car camping spot in the mountains. “It’s going to be a clear night!” my little cousin squealed. “We’re going to see so many stars! Maybe even a meteor shower!” The campsite was beautiful. Cars and SUVs were parked around a large central fire pit where everyone was mingling. We grabbed some folding chairs and joined a group playing “The Dare Card.” It was a random draw game. Whoever drew the King got to command two other numbers to do a dare. “Number 1 hug Number 2,” things like that. The college kids playing were wilder than my friends used to be. The current King ordered two guys to hold water in their mouths and stare into each other’s eyes. They broke character in two seconds and spit water everywhere. I was laughing so hard I had to lean on my cousin. Suddenly, a group from across the fire walked over and asked to join. I froze. The guy in the black North Face jacket and grey beanie… Liam? How is he everywhere? He saw me, but acted completely indifferent, taking a seat casually across the circle. He shuffled the deck, his long, nimble fingers moving flawlessly. It brought back far too many memories. My heart hammered. I decided to escape. Just as I stood up, the new King shouted, “I command the Jack of Diamonds and the Ace of Hearts! Do push-ups together! Face to face!” Everyone checked their cards. A feeling of impending doom washed over me as I flipped my card. Crap. Jack of Diamonds. “Who is it? Who is it?” the crowd chanted. I raised my hand stiffly. “I’m the Jack.” Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Liam whisper something to the guy next to him. Then, Liam stood up, holding up a card. “I’m the Ace.” I obviously wasn’t going to expose him for swapping cards. Honestly, doing a dare with Liam felt slightly less terrifying than doing it with a total stranger. When he stood up, the crowd went absolutely feral. My little cousin poked my ribs. “Oh my god, Chloe! He is SO hot! Look at him, he definitely has the stamina for this! You scored!” Watching Liam walk toward me step by step, my legs turned to jelly. “How many push-ups?” Liam asked the King. His tone was classic Liam. Arrogant, confident, bordering on cocky. The King, a fratty-looking guy, took the bait. “Fifty. Can you handle that?” Liam scoffed lightly. “Easily.” I wanted to cry. I can’t handle that! If Liam was doing push-ups over me, I’d probably start shaking by number five. But there was no backing out. I was pushed to the center of the circle. Just as I was about to lie down on the dirt, Liam spoke up. “Hold on.” He took off his thick jacket and laid it flat on the ground for me to lie on. The crowd erupted in a chorus of “Awwwwws.” I lay down. Liam positioned himself over me. He started his push-ups. Every time he lowered himself, our faces were inches apart. I could smell the faint scent of campfire and cedar. Liam’s scent. The crowd chanted loudly. “One! Two! Three! Four!” His arms were planted on either side of my shoulders, his shadow completely engulfing me. I couldn’t see the starry sky anymore; I could only see the intensity in his eyes. When they shouted “Nine!” he whispered, “Stop looking at me like that.” My brain was buffering. “Huh?” He shifted his weight to one arm, used his free hand to pull off his beanie, and dropped it right onto my face. The hat completely covered my eyes. I heard a low, raspy chuckle. “I’m going to lose my self-control.” With my vision gone, my other senses heightened. I could feel the heat radiating off him. Every time he lowered himself, his lips would just graze the side of my neck or the corner of my mouth. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it would burst. Thank God the crowd was screaming and cheering, drowning out the sound of my ragged breathing. By thirty-seven, Liam hadn’t slowed down at all. He wasn’t even out of breath. My cousin’s voice echoed in my head: He definitely has the stamina. Yeah. No kidding. Forty-seven. Almost over. I let out a breath of relief. Suddenly, the whistling boom of fireworks echoed across the valley. The counting stopped. Bright flashes of light bled through the fabric of the beanie. The hat was suddenly pulled off my face. I saw the sky exploding in colors, and then I saw Liam’s eyes, brighter than any firework. Then, my world went dark again as Liam crashed his lips onto mine. The vibrant colors faded into the background. The wind swept through the dry grass. Everyone else had run toward the edge of the campsite to watch the display. In the shadows, completely unobserved, the boy I used to love wasn’t watching the sky, and he certainly wasn’t finishing his penalty. He was leaning over me, using the beanie to block our faces, kissing me over and over again. 5 The fireworks ended. The push-ups were done. The heat of his lips still lingered on mine. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of resentment washed over me. I shoved Liam off and stormed away. The crowd looked confused. Liam didn’t even grab his jacket; he just chased after me. One of his buddies yelled, “Liam, where are you going?” Liam didn’t miss a beat. “Chasing a girl. Mind your business.” I heard my cousin go, “Ooooh!” and then actually yell, “Good luck, future brother-in-law!” Traitor. I finally found a quiet, secluded spot by the edge of the woods and sat down heavily on a log. Liam was right behind me, staring at me silently. I covered my face with my hands, not wanting him to see my tear-filled eyes. “Stop looking at me. Just leave.” He dropped to his knees, pulling me into a fierce hug, pressing my face into his chest. “Call me shameless, but I don’t care,” he whispered. “Chloe, I can’t let you go.” The familiar embrace, the warmth I had missed for so long… but it didn’t belong to me anymore. The suppressed anger finally exploded. I pushed him away with all my strength. “If you couldn’t let me go, why did you cheat on me?!” Liam froze, completely bewildered. “Me? Cheat? You were the one who walked away!” I pulled out my phone, scrolled to the screenshot I had saved for years, and shoved it in his face. Seeing that delicate, manicured hand resting on his sleeping face sent a fresh stab of pain through my chest. Liam stared at the photo. “What the f*ck is this?” “You were always popular,” I choked out. “I knew guys were unpredictable. But I never thought you’d actually betray me…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Liam looked at me intensely. “Why didn’t you come to me with this?” Back then? We were in the middle of a massive fight. I was too proud to beg for an explanation. Whoever panics first loses. I texted him that we were over, and true to form, he didn’t try to stop me. Wasn’t that proof enough? In the adult world, you don’t need a screaming match to know it’s time to move on. Liam slammed his fist into the trunk of a nearby tree. His voice trembled with rage. “You blocked me on everything! I went to your best friend, Madison, to check on you, and she told me you were already hooking up with some older guy from your college. I had no idea this photo even existed. I thought you had just moved on.” “Madison said that?” I asked, stunned. “Who is the girl in the picture then?” Liam pulled out his phone in frustrated panic and dialed a number. “Stella, get your ass to the Grand Point campsite right now. I don’t care what you’re doing. Now!” Thirty minutes later, a gorgeous girl who looked striking similar to Liam hopped out of an Uber. It was Stella, Liam’s older sister. She was loud, overly affectionate, and impossible to hate. Stella explained that she had come home from a party completely trashed years ago. She grabbed someone’s phone from the counter—she thought it was hers—and mass-texted all her friends to brag about how cute her little brother looked sleeping. She had no idea she had sent it to me from Liam’s phone. She held out her hands. The Cartier ring on her index finger and the tiny red mole on the back of her hand were identical to the photo. Stella sighed dramatically, wrapping an arm around my waist. “My sweet, beautiful Chloe. You aren’t going to let me suffer my brother’s wrath, are you? Forgive me?” She was too good at pleading. I nodded helplessly. Stella flitted away like a social butterfly, but before she left, she gave me a meaningful look. “Babe, woman’s intuition: your ‘best friend’ Madison is a snake.” Once Stella was gone, Liam and I stood alone in the dark. I hesitated. “So, this past year… have you…” Have you been with anyone else? Have you treated anyone the way you treated me? He answered immediately. “Dealing with you was exhausting enough for one lifetime. I didn’t have the energy for anyone else.” 6 I climbed back up into the rooftop tent. My cousin was on the phone with her boyfriend, being incredibly disgustingly sweet. When she hung up, she looked guilty. “Chloe… my boyfriend drove all the way up here to surprise me…” I knew that clingy phase well. She was a carbon copy of my past self. “Go on,” I sighed. “Don’t keep him waiting.” She scrambled to put her jacket on, pausing at the ladder. “The campsite is pretty safe, and there’s a panic button on your right. If you get scared, just hit the button!” Gee, thanks for reminding me I’m terrified. Once she left, I looked out the small mesh window at the night sky, listening to the wind howl through the trees. My hands went ice-cold. It was pitch black. Every horror movie I had ever seen about girls alone in the woods suddenly played on a loop in my brain. I tossed and turned, completely unable to sleep. My phone buzzed. Having forced me to unblock him, Liam sent his first text: “Are you alone in that tent?” How did he know? Was he watching my car? I typed back slowly: “Yeah.” He just called me directly. “Chloe.” He just said my name, nothing else. It reminded me of the time I went to a month-long summer academic camp in high school. He hadn’t seen me for weeks. He’d call me late at night, sounding pathetic, just whispering, “Chloe, Chloe.” He never said he missed me; he just said my name like a prayer. Just like tonight. It was nice. Having someone on the line made the darkness feel less suffocating. I heard the wind whipping against his phone. “Are you still here? Did you not go home?” Liam said, “Unzip the tent window.” I peeked out. He was standing right by my car, hands shoved in his pockets, looking up at me. The moonlight washed over him. He looked tall, broad, and devastatingly handsome. He spoke with a lazy drawl. “I’m terrified of the dark and I think this place is haunted. Can I crash with you?” …I’m the one afraid of the dark. The moment Liam climbed in, the tent felt incredibly small. I wrapped myself tightly in a sleeping bag and shoved myself into the corner. He casually started taking off his layers. Jacket, sweater, shirt… Wait, shirt?! He caught me staring and slowly grabbed the hem of his undershirt. Good lord… I swallowed hard and lunged forward to grab his hands. “What are you doing?! It’s freezing in here.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m hot.” When I didn’t respond, Liam grabbed my wrists and pulled me flush against his chest, sliding his fingers against the fabric of my collar. “You’re sleeping in a turtleneck? Aren’t you suffocating?” His knuckles brushed my neck, sending a violent shiver down my spine. I begged softly, “We just cleared up years of misunderstandings. Can’t you give me a minute to process?” Liam said quietly, “Do you know what ‘rekindling an old flame’ means? Do you know what ‘making up for lost time’ means?” His tone was dark, like a predator cornering its prey. I tried to scramble backward, but he locked his arms around me. “Stop moving,” he commanded softly. “I’m just going to hold you.” Realizing the physical tension radiating off him, I froze completely. He let out a shaky exhale. “Chloe, when you left… all I could think about was the idea of another guy holding you like this.” “There wasn’t anyone else,” I whispered. After having a diamond, how could I settle for glass? He held me tighter. “I was so jealous of a guy who didn’t even exist. I went insane.” Liam didn’t push any further. Once his breathing returned to normal, he just held me. Even though I had been paralyzed with fear ten minutes ago, lying next to him made me feel incredibly safe. Exhaustion washed over me, and I drifted off to sleep. I dreamt of my seventeenth birthday. I was at that strict academic summer camp, studying late into the night. I got a text from Liam. He had jumped the campus fence in the middle of the night just to bring me a slice of cake. Just as he lit the candle, a security guard spotted the light. I panicked and tried to blow it out, but Liam refused. He made me make a wish first. I squeezed my eyes shut, made a wish, and blew out the candle just as the guard burst into the courtyard. Liam grabbed me, and we dove into the bushes, watching the guard’s flashlight sweep over our heads. The guard cursed, confiscated the cake, and walked away. I let out a sigh of relief, my heart pounding. As I tried to stand up, Liam pulled me back down into his arms. “I took a bite of the frosting before I got here,” he whispered. “Want to taste?” Before I could answer, he kissed me. It was sweet. Strawberry. … I woke up to the sound of cheering from the campsite. Disoriented, my brain was still stuck in that 17-year-old dream. Without thinking, I reached out and wrapped my arms around Liam’s neck. He went completely rigid. Reality crashed back in. I yanked my arms away. But Liam wasn’t letting me retreat. He backed me into the corner of the tent, his eyes dark and dangerous. “You don’t just grab me like that and not leave a tip,” he murmured. Outside, people were screaming, “A shooting star!” But inside, the small window of our tent was violently zipped shut. I didn’t see any shooting stars that night, but I definitely saw stars. I forgot how completely exhausting even his “restrained” affection could be.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413025”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years into his career, Ashton Miller was an untouchable A-lister, the undeniable king of the industry. Everyone knew he had a secret love, a woman locked away in his heart. Through his rise from nothing to the dazzling heights of Hollywood, he had never forgotten her. I was the one who walked with him through his darkest days. And I was the one who finally realized I was only ever cast as the Supporting Actress. In the perfectly scripted romance of life, the Supporting Actress exists only to make the main couple’s love story shine brighter. But Ashton had once told me, “If the script says I can’t have you, then I’ll use every ounce of my power to tear up that script.” I had believed him. 1 Ashton was trending on social media again. Normally, for a superstar like him, dominating the headlines wasn’t news. But this time was different. He was trending alongside Seraphina Vance, a rising starlet from the same agency. Five years since his debut, he was like a once-in-a-generation comet. On the concert stage, he was pure blinding energy; on screen, he possessed an innate brilliance that had already won him an Academy Award at his young age. Despite the fame, he had never been touched by scandal. His most viral photo was one taken right after he stepped off a massive concert stage. His silhouette was tall and lean. The crowd was a roar of screams. The spotlights hit only half his face, catching the gleam of sweat sliding down his jawline. His eyes were vibrant with raw energy, possessing a charm that could steal a person’s soul. Yet, the other half of his face was steeped in shadow—cold, distant, and enigmatic as a chaste god, suggesting nothing could tempt him from his pedestal. Half vivid splendor, half silent stoicism. He was the center of attention in any arena. They said Ashton was the brightest star in the northern sky: untouchable, uncatchable. You could only feel his presence from a distance—overwhelmingly beautiful, yet bone-chillingly cold. The hashtag #AshtonSeraphina had a bright red “VIRAL” tag next to it. It was a video from a press conference. Ashton had just abandoned his usual blockbuster rotation to sign onto an epic period romance script called The Queen’s Champion, playing opposite Seraphina, who was new to the acting world. In the video, a reporter asked, “What is your favorite line from the script, Ashton?” He chuckled softly. In the film, he plays the loyal general who commits his life to conquering territories for the Queen. He turned his head, casting his eyes down at Seraphina beside him. She only came up to his shoulder, but Ashton deliberately leaned down, assuming a posture of deep reverence, much like the young general half-kneeling before his sovereign in the script. His eyes were soft, and when he smiled slightly, they were breathtakingly affectionate. He said: “I am content to be the brightest gem in your crown. I desire only to conquer worlds so that your name echoes through history. I pledge to be your most loyal soldier, to circle you like the stars around the moon, remaining forever by your side. I offer everything I am, my young Sovereign.” The entire hall fell silent. Seraphina raised her eyes to meet Ashton’s, her gaze soft and rippling with emotion. Screams erupted an instant later. Camera flashes strobed like lightning, and countless microphones were thrust forward by frenzied reporters. The video froze in that moment. The comments section was in overdrive. Even Ashton’s die-hard fans were beginning to celebrate. “If this isn’t love, I don’t know what is!” “The young Queen and her devoted General… who isn’t shipping this?” “That look in Ashton’s eyes… that’s pure, sweet devotion.” “After all these years, my boy finally found someone who makes him melt!” … I mindlessly traced my finger over the screen. It was frozen right where Ashton looked down, his eyes holding a galaxy of stars—a expression I had never seen before. I let out a helpless sigh, but tears escaped. It had finally happened. I had “stepped into this story” long ago, when I was fifteen, a sophomore in high school. To me, it felt like being trapped in a cheesy romance novel. Ashton was the male lead—the undisputed, incredibly talented young superstar. He was typically lazy and detached, but he would pour a lifetime of warmth solely onto the female lead, Seraphina. It was a story of reconnecting. They knew each other from high school. Ashton was practically Hollywood royalty, a true blue blood. Seraphina was the transfer student, a delicate ballet dancer. According to the pattern I knew, in their senior year, Ashton’s family would suffer a massive tragedy. The young lord on his pedestal would be dragged down into the dirt. In his despair, he would be saved by Seraphina, preventing him from going dark. After various separations due to her career and studies, they would meet again years later, and Ashton would protect her as she blossomed in the entertainment industry. Their love story was destined to be celebrated by the whole world. But when I came into the picture, Seraphina’s family moved her away much earlier than the plot dictated. She missed the entire downfall of the Miller family, leaving before Ashton could even confess his budding feelings. I was the one who held that eighteen-year-old boy when he lost both his parents in a single night. I was the one who touched his thin spine and accompanied him slowly through that abyss of darkness. He had never been so helpless, weeping silently against my shoulder with red, swollen eyes, clinging to me like I was his last lifeline. I saw him return to the spotlight. He was born for greatness, after all, and Hollywood quickly rediscovered him. I went to the premiere of his first film. I watched on the big screen as he turned in the rain, covered in blood and mud, his gaze as sharp as a knife. The audience around me gasped in collective shock at the raw power of it. I called him while he was walking the red carpet at an awards show. I said, “Ash, I saw it.” During his first major concert, I was right there in the front row. The entire arena was chanting his name, screaming for him. Countless LEDs lit up, declaring their love for “Ashton.” I knew, right then, that he had never really been “my” boy. I was swallowed up by the crowd, smiling as I watched him blaze brilliantly center stage, while hot tears poured down my face before I could stop them. I walked with him through the hardest times, but I knew his brilliant future didn’t belong to me. Ash. Ashton probably didn’t know that the novel The Queen’s Champion was actually based on something I wrote. I wrote of generals, of sovereigns, of strategy, and of love. But I had to watch him recite those declarations of devotion to Seraphina. “I am your sharpest sword.” “Your Majesty, my heart’s devotion lies across this vast empire. Look and see for yourself.” There had been countless moments when I realized that no matter how long I stayed by Ashton’s side, that dazzling boy would never be mine. But I hadn’t asked for much. I only wanted him to be happy and safe. Ding. Cinderella’s time was up. It was time to strip away the glory that didn’t belong to me. I slowly ate a bowl of porridge, staring blankly at the small pot of freesia on the windowsill for a long time. I returned to my room and packed everything I owned. It wasn’t much; it fit perfectly into a single small suitcase. I called Ashton’s cell. I called several times. On the third try, someone finally picked up. It was his assistant. “Elara! Look, Ash is just changing into costume, he can’t—” The call was abruptly cut off, then I heard Ashton’s voice as he walked away from the noise, the sounds of the set fading into the distance. “Hello?” I hadn’t wanted to cry. But the moment his deep, smooth voice came through the line, a tear suddenly fell. I tilted my head back, thinking about the ten years we had walked together. Scenes receded only to rush back like a tide. I thought of that line about circled stars and a destined path that couldn’t be changed. I composed myself and said, “Ash, I’m done. I’m leaving.” He froze. After a long pause, he spoke in his usual casual, detached tone. “Need to get away for a bit? Domestic or international? Leaving in a few days? Let Nick know, he’ll book your flight. Can you wait two days? I’ll have my manager reschedule my shoots, I’ll clear some time to go with you. I heard there’s a place with great scenery—” The background noise around him started to swell again. Someone shouted, “Mr. Miller, we’re ready to shoot!” He ignored them. I interrupted his rambling. I said, “No, Ash. I mean I’m leaving you.” I wiped the single tear from my cheek and whispered, “Goodbye, Ashton.” Silence for a heartbeat. Then I hung up. I have always been a coward. I was afraid he would hear the sob I couldn’t hold back, and even more afraid he would let out a sigh of relief and say, “Okay.” 2 Ashton had bought this little apartment before he struck it rich. I had saved up a decent chunk of change from my writing royalties, and together with Ashton’s savings, we scraped together a down payment. Two bedrooms, one bath. We each had our own little space. Later, when he exploded in popularity, living here wasn’t feasible anymore. The area was too busy, and it was too easy for paparazzi to follow him. His manager strictly forbade any talk of him “cohabitating” with anyone during his rising career. I helped him explain over and over that we were just family, but I knew there was no way around it. For a very brief moment, I had held a burning star in my hands. But I was painfully aware that he never belonged to me. He moved into a highly secure luxury complex. His schedule became fuller by the day. He still called me, telling me about new scripts, new choreography he was learning, but he was just too busy. Eventually, when I called him, he was always at an event, filming, or preparing for a show. He’d call back exhausted when it was all over. I couldn’t stand seeing him so tired, so I stopped calling. I didn’t have many friends here. After working at the publishing house, I’d come home and write. When I wrote The Queen’s Champion, I had written a specific line for the young general. He would ride back through a massive snowstorm, the great Royal City and thousands of soldiers behind him. He would leap from his horse, dropping to one knee in the deep snow before the young Queen: “I am your sharpest sword. For my Sovereign, I conquer worlds.” I was thinking of Ashton when I wrote that. I, too, wanted to be his sword and his shield. But I could do nothing. All I could ever offer him was a hug. According to the patterns of these stories, Ashton and Seraphina were supposed to meet during an audition at his agency. Reconnection. The descriptions in my head were vivid: “They met, but he remained outwardly composed. Tall and straight, he brushed past the delicate Seraphina, appearing like strangers. But secretly, he secured the best contract terms for her and personally ensured this destined-to-be-blockbuster script was placed in her hands. The usually arrogant man was so cautious, letting Seraphina believe her achievements were solely due to her own hard work, letting her be happy and proud.” The press conference was just the beginning of their slow-burn romance. I had stayed with him all those years, waiting for her to finally appear. I finished making all the necessary handovers for my work from the little apartment. Then I dragged my suitcase to the door. Just as I opened it, I realized it was raining. A heavy downpour, beating against my heart with a dull ache. As I was about to close the door to grab an umbrella, a force shoved against it. A pale, long-fingered hand gripped the doorframe, a knuckle adorned with a stylish silver ring. I opened the door fully, my heart pounding rapidly. Ashton was leaning against the doorframe. It was pouring outside, and he was soaked. Wet hair fell across his beautiful brow, dampening the brilliance that usually radiated from his eyes. There was a faint trace of red in them now. He was still wearing his ancient, elaborate costume from the set, the wide sleeves hurriedly tied up. Rain dripped down the high bridge of his nose, looking almost like tears. He must have rushed here; he was still slightly out of breath, his thin lips pressed tight and pale, wearing a look of sheer panic that was entirely different from his usual cold detachment. He looked like a child terrified of being abandoned. He looked down, his voice slightly raw. He said my name. “Elara. “Where could you possibly go?” Water rolled down his jawline and neck, disappearing into the half-wet collar of his costume. I paused before asking, “Did you run off from the set?” He interrupted me, leaning slightly closer to look me in the eye. “Where could you possibly go?” “I’m going back to Monterey. It’s too loud here; I’m not cut out for this life. I want to watch fireworks on the beach at night in Monterey, and eat the old-school cherry pie from the diner down the street.” His knuckles whitened as he gripped the doorframe. He asked softly, “What about me?” I noticed people moving around in the hallway. Given how incredibly famous he was, I worried about him being recognized by paparazzi or neighbors. Letting out a sigh, I stepped aside and signaled him to come in. Even though he hadn’t lived here in a long, long time, his room and closet were untouched. I urged him to go take a hot shower. He looked back at me several times, hesitating. I was both amused and annoyed. I said, “I’m not going to run away while you’re in the shower.” Only then did he let out a faint, “Oh.” He had left his phone on silent, but missed calls and texts were blowing it up. Ashton clicked his tongue in annoyance, flipped the phone facedown on the coffee table, grabbed some dry clothes, and shut himself in the bathroom. I answered a call from his assistant. The poor guy was in a panic, asking if Ashton was with me. I gave a quiet “mm-hmm,” and told him not to worry, that Ashton would be back later. The assistant breathed a sigh of relief. Then I called his manager, telling her to handle any potential leaks about him being seen on the road. Handling all this only took a moment. I found myself in a rare daze. Ashton was actually incredibly hardworking; stories of stars being divas on set never applied to him. He never did that. I inadvertently clicked on one of Ashton’s new songs. His voice from the phone was uncharacteristically gentle, like a confession from across the stars: “You’re at the center of my world / Yet I never felt anything was different.” “My full glory is for your coronation / Who could know this love that asks for nothing in return?” My heart burned as I listened. But the comment ticker rolled across the screen: “Seraphina is going to win awards with this kind of backing. Ashton definitely pulled strings.” “This kind of hidden, patient love is the most heartbreaking!” I thought about my brief moment of self-importance and felt incredibly embarrassed. But according to the original narrative, this is how it was supposed to go. He wrote songs for her, paved the way for her, placing the best things in her hands without her ever knowing. If his high school love was as scorching as the midday sun, then now, having weathered tragedies, that love was heavier, hidden, like moonlight reflecting on a rippling ocean. But anyone falling for Ashton was just inevitable, because he was truly a wonderful person. The song was slow and gentle, like him singing right into my ear. I was lost in it. Hearing the bathroom door open, I snapped out of it and hurriedly paused the song, like I was trying to hide a guilty secret. Ashton had changed into a white T-shirt, his collarbone slightly visible. His hair was towel-dried. The hot shower had seemingly eased his tension; his innate nonchalance was back. Hearing the familiar melody, he paused, a smile playing at the corner of his eye. “Listening to my new song?” I nodded. “It’s very good.” He didn’t reply, but a trace of red climbed onto his ears as he gave an indifferent “mm-hmm.” The atmosphere suddenly plunged into a heavy silence. Neither of us knew what to say. There were only a few hours left before I had to catch the cross-country train. I had to say goodbye. “Next time, don’t just run off without a word. You had them all worried.” Ashton hated being lectured, but now he just sat there quietly, listening. “My ticket is bought. It’s raining, so you can’t walk me out. If… if you ever think of me, come find me for a beer when you’re near Monterey.” As it turned out, parting wasn’t about drama and crying. It was about very restrainedly maintaining the politeness of friends. He was silent for a long time. I sighed, getting up to head for the door. But as I passed him, he grabbed my wrist. “I won’t come find you for a beer. I won’t just happen to be near Monterey.” He raised his eyes, looking at me with absolute stubbornness, the corners faintly red. For an instant, I truly thought he was going to cry. Through all these years, through so much suffering, he had only ever cried like that once, the afternoon his parents died, holding me without a sound. I patiently leaned down slightly. “Ashton, have you ever considered that you’re just used to having me around? “Back then, anyone who held you, you would have accepted them.” He froze, his face going pale as if he had been insulted. He looked straight at me, practically spitting the words through clenched teeth. “Elara, do you have a heart? It could only be you. It was only ever you.” Just as things were at a standoff, my phone rang. Somehow, the ringtone had changed to Ashton’s new song, hitting right at the climax: “My full glory is for your coronation / Who could know this love that asks for nothing in return.” It was incredibly awkward. Ashton was still gripping my wrist, so I used my other hand to answer. It was the production team for The Queen’s Champion. They had recently finalized the casting and held the press conference, and were now about a portion of the way into filming. They wanted me to join the crew on set to oversee the script, working with the screenwriters to refine the story and dialogue. I hesitated. If I joined the crew, I’d be seeing a lot of Ashton and Seraphina. I was literally just about to leave. The person on the phone was very polite. “We truly hope to present your work to the audience in its best possible form, so we would be honored if you could join us.” Ultimately, I nodded. Suddenly, I remembered that Ashton didn’t know I wrote the novel. I looked down, only to see the thin lips that had been pressed tight a moment ago now quirked up in a smile. He leaned back slightly, relaxing completely, his beautiful eyes sparkling. He showed no surprise whatsoever. I raised my voice. “You knew I wrote The Queen’s Champion?” He was outwardly calm, lounging on the sofa, his long legs propped up on the coffee table. He said lazily, “Elara, I look forward to working with you.” Just like that summer years ago, when he sat by the window, the trees full of cicadas, his classic bad-boy profile turning towards me. He had quirked his lips then, too, saying, “You’re Elara, right? Nice to meet you.” He was always like this, pretending he didn’t need my help when he clearly did. 3 I told Ashton to keep his distance on set, that we should act like strangers. He raised his eyes and gave a knowing, slightly mocking “Oh.” The Queen’s Champion follows the journey of a young royal from a lowly princess to an Empress. Seraphina played the lead, Aurora. The male lead was her childhood friend, the scholarly Prime Minister. The second lead was a prince from an enemy nation held as a hostage. The third lead was the loyal general, played by Ashton. He didn’t have many scenes; it seemed like a role he had taken just to support Seraphina. The production crew had arranged a room for me at the hotel. Just as I finished unpacking and stepped out of my room, I ran into Caleb Sterling, who was playing the male lead. He had entered the industry in college, and after graduation, he had become quite a respected method actor, now a popular leading man. Coincidentally, he was also from the same department as me in college. Our names, when put together, were a well-known quote about courtship from classic literature, which had caused quite a stir back in our university days. Caleb was wearing a mask, revealing only black, expressive eyes. He was tall, and possessed a calm, refined aura. He stopped when he saw me, seemingly stunned. His manager must have mentioned something to him, because he quickly recovered and smiled with his eyes over the mask. “It really is you. Long time no see, Elara.” I said, “Yeah, it has been.” It just so happened to be afternoon, and the crew was holding a table read. Before filming began, the leads would read through the script together to test the emotional beats. He looked down at me. “Since we bumped into each other, let’s go together.” I had no reason to refuse, so I nodded. Caleb and I had been polite acquaintances in college, not close but friendly. His conversation was perfectly pleasant, so reconnecting now wasn’t too awkward. When we arrived at the room, most people were already there. But my eyes went straight to Ashton, lounging in a corner. He was wearing a black hoodie, his hand resting on his script. He raised his gaze, landing on me first, then glancing at Caleb beside me. The corner of his mouth drooped in visible annoyance, looking coldly displeased. Once everyone arrived, introductions were made. I hadn’t seen Seraphina in a long time. She was even more ethereal in person than in her photos. When our eyes met, she offered a polite, unsurprising smile, revealng shallow dimples. We started running through lines. This scene was the first meeting between Ashton’s character, General Ares, and the heroine, Aurora. Ares wasn’t born into nobility. He had a tragic childhood, surviving as a street urchin, fighting with beggars for scraps. Until the heroine appeared, a sliver of light illuminating his hopeless life. Feeling inferior due to their status difference, he joined the army, fought with everything he had, and eventually became her most trusted champion. This scene was Ares as a teenager, beaten severely, lying in the rain-slicked mud, watching the golden-belled carriage of the wealthy heroine pass by. Ashton stepped into character instantly. He was still in his black hoodie, sitting up straight with his script, but his expression was unmistakably that of a hopeless urchin dying in the rain. He was shivering with cold, yet forcing his eyes open with stubborn refusal, terrified that if he closed them, he would become just another forgotten corpse by the roadside. Seraphina read her lines, calling out to her maid. She was leaning lazily back in her chair, perfectly portraying the pampered, high-born princess. “Maya, why has the carriage stopped?” The young Ares, lying in the road, had blocked the noble carriage. The driver’s whip was about to fall on Ares. Aurora lifted the royal purple curtain, looking down from on high, and casually stopped the driver. Seraphina read with the princess’s condescending tone: “Forget it. He’s just a beggar. Find someone to take him to a healer and leave some money.” The Ares in the scene was blinded by rain, barely able to open his eyes. All he could see was a corner of the grand, opulent carriage curtain being lifted. Inside was luxurious and warm, the pouring rain unable to touch it. A beautiful noble girl poked her head out slightly, effortlessly giving him a chance to live. Ashton spoke, softly. The Ares in the script, lying broken in the mud, barely able to see through the rain, yet asked with immense audacity, as if terrified his dream would shatter in the storm: “Who… are you?” The girl chuckled softly, a sound that could have been disdain or disbelief. She said nothing, and the purple curtain fell back into place. That was their first encounter. It became a dream Ares would never forget. Ashton leaned back, instantly transforming back into the cold, detached young man. “I have a problem with this scene,” Ashton spoke up. “Even if Aurora showed mercy in his direst moment and gave him a few coins, Ares might be grateful, he might repay her with his life, but he would never fall for her so completely and desperately.” I looked at him. Our eyes met for a second. Ashton leaned forward, his voice calm. “Not unless she gave him a hug in the middle of that pouring rain. A warm hug that could protect him from all the cold.” Ashton was absolutely certain, as if in that moment he was Ares, and he knew it to be true. I was stunned. Memories started to flood back. I composed myself and spoke. “But that is logically impossible. At this point, Aurora is a noble princess. She might have pity for the common people, but she would never, ever hug a mud-covered, dying stranger on the street.” Ashton’s eyes were dark, a hidden light shimmering in them, like a starry sky. Seraphina suddenly spoke up. “But if it was a maid, it wouldn’t matter, right? If Aurora’s maid gave him the hug instead, that would make sense.” “But why would a maid hug a dying beggar?” Ashton leaned back, his expression unreadable as he quirked his lips in a smirk. “Who knows. Maybe it’s just pity.” I stared at him. I suddenly remembered the year the Miller family fell. The high lord had suddenly been dragged down into the dirt. He had lost his family overnight. His orange blossoms were thrown to the wind. I had slowly approached him and gently hugged that despairing, suffering boy. Did he think it was pity? I had never gotten an answer. But this scene was slightly modified. In this rain-drenched first encounter, Ashton’s character, Ares, was given a substitute hug. After the reading, I returned to the hotel. Passing by the fire exit, I was grabbed by the wrist and dragged into the darkness. The door was half-ajar, letting in a sliver of light. I was about to scream, my palms sweating. I was pinned against the wall. Ashton was tall, making the space feel incredibly cramped. I could feel the scent of cold snow coming from him. I raised my eyes, unable to believe his audacity, and whispered a curse. “What are you doing?” He leaned down slightly, a ghost of a smile in his eyes. “You said to act like strangers in front of people. I can only talk to you here, right?” I shifted uncomfortably against the wall, tilting my head back to appear confident, but my forehead brushed against his jaw, the warm contact lasting only an instant. Silence fell. I asked, “What is it?” Someone walked down the hallway. It sounded like his assistant looking for him, muttering, “Ashton was just here. Where did he go?” I turned back, meeting his black eyes. Every trace of a smile had been tucked away. The sliver of light from the fire door landed faintly on his face, making this man, who was considered the pinnacle of the industry, look even deeper and more mesmerizing. He licked his lips. He propped one hand against the wall, leaning down to eye level with me. He pursed his lips several times before he could speak. I truly felt he was as nervous as I was. No matter how big the arena, no matter how grand the stage, Ashton never had stage fright. Yet in this silent, tiny space, in this small fire exit without an audience, he had to rethink his words many times before he dared to speak. He softly asked, “Who would be willing to hug someone falling into the abyss?” I looked at his lowered eyes, unable to tell if he was asking about Ares in the script or himself in reality. The year Ashton was eighteen, what awaited him wasn’t a lavish, high-profile birthday party. First, Seraphina had left the country without a word, leaving the flowers he intended to use for his confession utterly useless. Then, the Miller family went bankrupt. His father committed suicide in prison, and his mother couldn’t take the shock and passed away from illness. Overnight, the adored young lord had been reduced to an orphaned, homeless beggar. I had searched all of Seattle then. I found him in a gritty alleyway, leaning against a crumbling concrete wall. The setting sun was casting long shadows, and those freshly picked flowers were rolling in the dirt. Even though I found him, I didn’t dare approach. I wasn’t Seraphina. In his eyes, I was probably just an acquaintance who knew his name. Who would want their most vulnerable, broken self exposed to someone insignificant? What was I thinking back then? I was just so heartbroken watching him. I thought, he probably… maybe… needs a hug. I had nothing, but I had a hug to give. I slowly walked over. He was leaning against the wall, his narrow eyes looking at me fiercely, yet they were clearly red. I was in so much pain. I thought he would tell me to get lost, but he just clenched his teeth, his jawline hard. He turned his face away, covering his eyes with his palm. I saw tears leak from between his fingers. The always proud boy was as fragile as snow in the setting sun. In that moment, the setting sun fell into my heart. I have never been that brave, but I took a step forward and gently hugged him. “Don’t be sad. I will always be with you. “I will be with you forever and ever.” Now, the twenty-five-year-old Ashton was asking me who would hug someone falling into the abyss. My sweat dampened my palms. I lowered my eyes and said, “I don’t know.” Ashton took another step closer, a cold, self-deprecating smile on his lips. “You don’t know? Then let me ask you: Do you know what pity is, Elara? “Seeing Ares covered in mud, unable to survive, some people would offer money to show their pity. Someone else offered a hug. What were you thinking back then?” I was stunned. He gently approached me, like a sigh, like a plea, light and shadow dancing in his eyes. “Tomorrow, that first encounter scene in the rain. The revised script. We haven’t found a suitable extra to hug Ares yet. It’s just a few seconds of footage. Come act it with me. Don’t be afraid, I’ll guide you. It can’t be anyone but you.” I seriously studied his features. There was a trace of madness in his beauty. He pleaded, “Just count it as doing it with me one last time.” Then this stretch of the road, I would walk with him one last time. The final time. I softly said, “Okay.” He was too close. His scent was everywhere. My heart was like something buried in snow; though it was freezing cold, it couldn’t help but pound for him. I tried to push past him, and he didn’t stop me. Just as I touched the door handle, he suddenly called my name. I turned back. Ashton had one hand in his pocket, his face steeped in shadow. He looked at me with a calm, steady gaze and said: “Goodnight.” When I slipped out of the fire exit, I was tiptoeing and looking around, as if I had actually done something scandalous. I heard Ashton let out a soft laugh from behind the door. The next day, for the scene where Ares meets Aurora, because I had this unexpected substitute role, the director had Seraphina’s makeup artist do my makeup as well, while she was getting hers done. Seraphina had a private dressing room. I was just about to knock on the door when I faintly heard my name through it. My raised finger froze. Inside the dressing room, Seraphina’s assistant asked, “Seraphina, why did you agree to let her take some of your screentime? This character’s appearance is totally random.” Seraphina gave an unreadable chuckle. “Do you really think I was the one who suggested it? It was him—” She suddenly cut herself off, then spoke again. “Whatever. She’s just a small role, not even a supporting actress. It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything. It just lets her experience more clearly what it means to be a supporting role.” I withdrew my hand, my expression unchanged. As I turned, I saw Caleb Sterling standing right behind me. He must have heard the whole thing. It was awkward. I pointed to the door and mouthed, “I’ll come back later.” Caleb couldn’t help but smile with his eyes. He softly said, “You’re remarkably calm after being talked about like that, Elara.” I looked up at him and said quietly, “I’m not.” Not calm at all. Everything she said was true. In this story, whether on screen or off, I was a character who wasn’t even important enough to be called a supporting actress.

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Just because Ethan said he was tired of eating out, I quit my job to become a stay-at-home wife, pouring my heart into making him three square meals a day. I started filming the process and posting it online, slowly building a decent following as a food vlogger. But today, scrolling through the sea of glowing compliments, one comment stopped my heart: Stop fooling yourself, honey. He looks like he’s about to puke every time he takes a bite. I checked her IP address. She’s in the same city. My stomach dropped. 1 In the second year of my marriage to Ethan, I got pregnant. Looking at the two pink lines on the test, it was hard to imagine a tiny new life was already inside me. I planned to film a short video to capture the blissful moment he found out he was going to be a dad. As a food influencer, naturally, I had to use food to break the news. I had just finished preparing the meal when I heard Ethan open the front door. I rushed over, setting his slippers down for him. “Welcome home! Come see what delicious things I made you.” Ethan rubbed the top of my head fondly, handing me a fresh bouquet of flowers. “Thanks, babe. You shouldn’t have.” In the two years we’d been married, he was consistent. Every single day on his way home from work, he brought me flowers. My followers always called him “husband goals.” Handsome, talented, devoted, and an absolute romantic. Ethan took off his suit jacket, rolled up his sleeves, and stared at the setting on the table. It was a kids’ meal—chicken nuggets shaped like stars and smiley-face fries. He looked confused. “Why the happy meal today?” I couldn’t hide the smile in my eyes as I rested my chin on my hands, sitting across from him. “Guess.” Ethan paused. A flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. “…I’m going to be a dad?” “Yes!” I handed him the pregnancy test. Tears immediately welled up in my eyes. Ethan got up excitedly, scooped me into his arms, and spun me around. “This is amazing! I’m going to be a dad!” He cupped my face and kissed me several times, his joy uncontained. I uploaded the video later, and the congratulations from fans poured in instantly. ——So sweet! Seeing Lily and her husband so happy makes me believe in love again! ——Lily White! You just cured my fear of commitment! ——Ugh, Ethan is so hot, Lily is so beautiful, that baby is going to be genetically blessed! Scrolling through the thousands of congratulatory comments, my face muscles ached from smiling so much. Until I hit that one comment in the middle of the crowd: Stop fooling yourself, honey. He looks like he’s about to puke every time he takes a bite. In my years as a food vlogger, I’ve had haters. At worst, they’d say my plating looked better than it tasted. But this comment was distinctly malicious. I clicked on her profile. It was just human interest stuff, mostly humanizing inexpensive makeup brands. Looks like a college student. Since she was just a kid, I decided she didn’t know any better and wasn’t going to obsess over it. I was about to exit when I saw a photo of Ethan lecturing. The caption read: Professor Ethan is looking hot again today! Praying I don’t fail his finals this time! My heart stuttered. I looked up at Ethan, who was sitting at his desk, reading. Focused and calm. I brushed the intrusive, filthy thought out of my mind. What was wrong with me? 2 Ethan worked at a university not far from our house. He usually ate every meal at home. I would time it perfectly so that hot food was ready the moment he walked through the door. Around lunchtime, he texted me saying something came up at school and he wouldn’t be able to make it home for lunch. This happened occasionally, but after seeing that student’s comment, a strange anxiety began to gnaw at me. I prepared dinner and uploaded the video I had just edited. Then, compelled by something dark, I clicked back into that college student’s profile. She had just posted a new video. In the video, she was spinning under the cherry blossom trees on campus, looking back at the camera and smiling—playful and vibrant. It was a normal, sharing-style video, but right before it ended, I heard Ethan’s voice. With trembling hands, I replayed the video, dragging it to the very end. “Okay, got it.” Ha. It was really him. At that moment, the only person I could think of was Joanna. She’s been my best friend for over a decade—the typical “boss babe” type. She thinks far more rationally than I do. Not long after I called, Joanna was at my door, immediately pulling me into a hug. “Don’t panic. I’m here.” Joanna scrolled through the girl’s profile and had someone run a quick background check. Natasha. Freshman. Barely eighteen. English major. Ethan’s student. Eighteen. So young. When I was eighteen, Ethan had declared, right in front of our teachers, that our love was free. Back then, I really thought eighteen was forever. 3 When Ethan got home, dinner was already cold. He walked in, changed his shoes, and handed me a spray of cherry blossoms. “Sorry, Lily. Traffic was a nightmare. Look, the cherry blossoms on campus are blooming. I snagged a few for you. Pretty, right?” I smiled as I took the branches. “Beautiful. Natasha likes cherry blossoms too, doesn’t she?” Ethan paused while taking off his coat, but quickly recovered. He smiled faintly at me. “Who?” I played Natasha’s video for him. He looked perfectly calm through the first part, right until he heard his own voice. “Oh, she’s one of my students. I was just passing through the campus garden today, and she asked me to help her film this short clip.” Good. I had anticipated that answer. I pointed to Natasha’s comment. “If it’s just a teacher-student relationship, does she need to have this much malice toward me?” “She’s always been a bit theatrical and crazy. Just ignore her.” Still not admitting it. I smiled, looking up at this man who was both familiar and strange. My heart slowly sank. “I called your Dean today. He said there was no lunchtime meeting. You lied to me.” Ethan froze, then stepped forward to hug me. “I know you’ve been anxious and paranoid lately because of the pregnancy, and I understand…” I pushed him away. “Don’t give me that crap!” Ethan’s expression instantly changed. His eyes turned red as he stared at me. “I’ve been with you for ten years, Lily. You’d rather believe a total stranger over me?” Looking at his red eyes, I got confused. My voice softened subconsciously. “The Dean had no reason to lie to me, though…” “He wasn’t on campus today. The meeting was called last minute and he wasn’t notified. He wasn’t lying to you, he just didn’t know.” Seeing me calm down, Ethan walked over and hugged me. “Lily, you are the only person I have ever loved in my life. You have to believe that.” I hugged Ethan and cried. For a moment, I really thought I was going to lose him. Just as I was finally calming down, the algorithm pushed another update from Natasha. Ten minutes ago, she posted a photo of her fresh manicure. The key detail was the bracelet on her wrist. Ethan had the exact same one. Motherf**ker. I was going to lose my mind. 4 Maybe it was the pregnancy hormones making me irritable and paranoid, but my emotions were spinning out of control. While Ethan was in the shower, I tore through the house looking for that bracelet. I found the handwritten card it came with in a box. ——Thank you for caring, Professor Ethan. I promise to work hard! ~ Your student, Natasha. Back then, he had said it was a gift from a student. At the time, I was actually happy for him. Thinking he had just become a full professor and already had students giving him gifts, meant he had to be a great teacher. I took a photo of the bracelet and searched for it online. It was part of a couples’ set. Great. So, how long had this been going on? Ethan came out of the shower, hugged me from behind, and kissed my neck. “What are you looking at? Time for bed…” Forcing back my immediate disgust, I turned around and slammed the bracelet against his chest. “Natasha sent this couples’ bracelet, didn’t she? Why aren’t you wearing it?” Ethan’s face darkened. “Lily, I thought we were past this? There is nothing between Natasha and me.” I grabbed his phone. “Fine. Then call her right now.” “Will you stop making a scene?” This was Ethan. We had been together for ten years, and he had never raised his voice at me. But now, the irritation on his face froze me. Without a word, I walked into the bedroom and grabbed my purse. I couldn’t stand to be in this house for another minute. He grabbed me. “Lily, listen to me…” I didn’t know if it was the hormones or if my heart was just completely broken, but I was gasping for air, unable to catch my breath. Ethan panicked, immediately pulling me into his arms. “Lily, calm down…” I fought with everything I had to break free, but suddenly, I felt a sharp pain followed by a warm rush down my legs. I looked down. Crimson blood was tracing a path down my legs and pooling on the hardwood floor. Terrified, I grabbed Ethan’s arm, my mind a blank slate of panic. “Baby… the baby…” My legs went weak, and the world went black. 5 When I woke up, the smell of antiseptic filled my nose. Ethan was sitting by the hospital bed, his face covered in fresh stubble, his eyes bloodshot. Seeing me wake up, he excitedly grabbed my hand. “You’re awake. I’ll go get the nurse.” I yanked my hand away. “The baby?” The light in his eyes vanished. “We… we can have another one. Just focus on getting better. I’ll take care of everything.” I bit my lower lip, the tears streaming down my face without warning. The hospital door burst open, and Joanna stormed in, infuriated. She walked straight up to Ethan and slapped him hard across the face. “You son of a bitch! How dare you show your face here? You don’t deserve her!” Ethan didn’t fight back. “I’m sorry. I failed to protect Lily.” Joanna crossed her arms. “Nice deflection. If it wasn’t for your affair with that student, Lily wouldn’t be lying here!” “I am saying this one last time. I did not have an affair.” Ethan looked at me. “Lily, yes, Natasha had feelings for me, but it was entirely one-sided. I never responded to it.” When I didn’t say anything, Ethan knelt by the bed, his expression sincere. “Lily, her class with me is over. I will never have anything to do with her again.” “Just get out. I don’t want to see you right now.” Ethan frowned slightly, picking up the pitcher from the nightstand. “I’ll go get you some water.” Joanna tucked the blankets around me, her heart breaking. “Look at yourself. I’m dying inside seeing you like this. You and Ethan? It’s over. You have to divorce him!” “Joanna, thank you.” I grabbed her hand. “I just lost a child. If I have to deal with a divorce right now, I don’t think I can handle it.” “Babe, you have me. I’ll be right here with you.” I shook my head. “We’ll see. There’s no concrete proof of an affair. I just need time.” Joanna sighed. “You are too naive.” 6 After I was discharged, Ethan insisted I stop cooking. He even hired a home health aide to take care of me while I recovered. “Lily, Maria is a certified aide. Whatever you need, just ask her.” Maria was only a few years older than me, but she looked very mature. She smiled and came over to touch my hand. “Oh honey, your hands are freezing. I’m going to make you some chicken soup to warm you up.” Ethan nodded, satisfied, and checked his watch. “I have to head to campus. Call me if you need anything.” I don’t know why, but I didn’t like Maria from the first moment I saw her. I figured it was just my depression from the miscarriage talking, so I didn’t think too much of it. But I soon realized something was off. Maria’s clothing around the house was getting increasingly revealing. At first, it was just short shorts and tank tops. Then off-the-shoulder dresses. Now, she was practically wearing lingerie. “Maria, is it hard to do house chores in that outfit?” “Not at all. You have no idea how hot it gets in the kitchen. I’m sweating every time I cook for you.” If it was just around me, I wouldn’t have said anything. But I noticed she was always lingering around Ethan’s study, wearing tiny dresses and bending over to “mop” the floor, or bending over his desk to wipe it down right in front of him. The straw that broke the camel’s back was when I got up in the middle of the night to get some water and saw Maria, wrapped only in a towel, walking out of the study. And Ethan didn’t seem to think anything was wrong. “Maria just finished her shower and saw I was still in the study, so she brought me a glass of milk. That’s it.” “She couldn’t put clothes on before bringing you milk? Or is she trying to audition for the role of the new wife?” Ethan put his book down. “Okay, Lily. I’ll remind her tomorrow. I need to prepare my lesson. Go back to bed.” After that, things seemed calm for a while. The final explosion came when I caught her smelling Ethan’s underwear. My entire worldview shattered. I rushed forward and grabbed her. “What are you doing? Are you sick in the head?!” Maria quickly dropped Ethan’s boxers, a look of panic crossing her face. Ethan heard the commotion and came out. “What’s wrong?” “She was just! Smelling your underwear!” Ethan looked confused, but Maria immediately put on a performance of a wronged victim. “Mr. Ethan, I didn’t. I was just checking which clothes needed washing. I didn’t expect Mrs. Lily to grab your… boxers… and say…” Wow. Somehow, she managed to make it sound like I was the bully. I couldn’t help but let out a cold laugh. “Do you not fear God with those lies?” Ethan frowned and pulled me aside. “Lily White, I know you don’t like Maria, but you don’t have to slander her like this.” It had been a long time since he called me by my full name. That only happened when he was genuinely furious. I stared at Ethan. He felt like a complete stranger. “Ethan, do you even know what you’re saying?” I locked eyes with him, emphasizing every word. “Tell her to get out right now. Either she goes, or I do.” “It’s the middle of the night. Where is she supposed to go?” “Fine. I’m leaving.”

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I’m a professional at making trouble, and Silas is a professional at cleaning it up. This time, I took his Bentley out for a spin and ended up rear-ending a Porsche. Now, I’m standing in the corner of our penthouse, facing the wall in a classic “time-out.” He took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Even if you’re my girl, Piper, every mistake carries a sentence.” My heart hammered against my ribs. I know that when the glasses come off, a “private session” is coming. But when he started unbuckling his watch… I knew I was truly done for. Is it too late to run? 1 Calling my husband when I’m in trouble—it’s our version of foreplay. Silas Miller is Chicago’s most formidable defense attorney. He’s never lost a case. Whenever he appears as a legal analyst on the news, he gains a million female fans overnight. He’s the ultimate “Silver Fox” in training—sharp features, eyes like cold flint, and a presence that demands the room. And yet, this powerful man is completely helpless against me. I’d just gotten my license and decided to sneak his Bentley Continental out for a grocery run. I was craving a proper Maine lobster clambake and wanted to get the ingredients myself. My driving skills, however, were not up to the task. I slammed right into a Porsche 911 that was merging into my lane. The owner of the Porsche hopped out, swearing. He looked at his crumpled bumper and marched over, pointing a finger at me. “Do you even have eyes, lady?” “Get out of the car! We’re going to talk about how you’re paying for this. Do you hear me? Out!” He looked aggressive. Terrifying. With trembling hands, I dialed Silas. “What’s wrong, Piper?” The sound of his deep, resonant voice always made me feel safe. My voice cracked. “Hey… Silas? I got into a wreck.” Silence for two seconds. Then: “Excuse me, everyone. There’s an emergency at home. The meeting is adjourned.” I could hear the rustle of him grabbing his suit jacket. Even in a rush, he didn’t forget to soothe me: “Get out of the car, stand on the sidewalk where it’s safe, and wait for me.” I stood by the curb, looking like a kicked puppy, as the Porsche owner continued his tirade. Soon, a black SUV pulled up. Silas stepped out, wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal-gray suit—straight from the office. He walked to me, draped his jacket over my shoulders, and I immediately tried to burrow into his chest. He frowned, straightening me up. “Stand straight. I’ll deal with you later.” The Porsche owner, recognizing him, suddenly changed his tone to pure flattery. “Mr. Miller! I didn’t realize… I mean, I thought the car looked familiar. No worries, really. My insurance will handle it. Don’t worry about a thing!” There isn’t a mess Silas can’t fix. After handling the scene, he tucked me into the passenger seat. He didn’t say a word the whole way home. The tension was suffocating. I followed him into the penthouse, head down, and went straight to my usual corner for a “time-out.” Usually, I’d play the victim card, call him “too controlling,” and wait for him to apologize. But this time, he was genuinely fuming. He stood behind me, arms crossed. “How many times have I told you not to drive alone? Why didn’t you listen?” “I wanted to make that lobster dinner you mentioned… I wanted to do something nice…” My voice got smaller and smaller. When he didn’t respond, I turned around and grabbed his waist, crying. “I messed up. Do whatever you want to me…” He didn’t yell. He just reached out and gently tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “If you want to cook, let the chef handle the prep. You just need to be happy.” “But I’m happy when I’m doing things for you!” Gosh, I felt so exposed. Even after all these years, his gentle side still made me blush. Finally, a faint smile tugged at his lips. The crisis was over. Or so I thought. I wrapped my arms around his neck, nuzzling him like a cat. If Silas were a cat, he’d be a Maine Coon—imposing and fierce-looking, but incredibly soft inside. “Even so,” he whispered, “you need to learn your lesson.” His long fingers reached up and removed his gold-rimmed glasses. His warm breath was against my lips, his dark eyes glowing with a dangerous intent. My heart skipped a beat. When the glasses come off, it’s a kiss. When the watch comes off… my legs go weak. I turned and bolted for my studio. “Silas!” “Piper!” He called out, sounding both amused and exasperated. I slammed the studio door. “I have… uh… work! Commissions to finish!” Through the door, his voice was smooth as aged whiskey. “Be a good girl. You can finish tomorrow.” “No!” At this moment, I felt like a lamb that had just realized the wolf was hungry. 2 I was huddling under my duvet, refusing to listen to Silas’s coaxing from the other side. I will never admit that I was eventually lured out by the promise of late-night pizza. “You’re a bully, Mr. Miller,” I grumbled. “I should sue you for emotional distress.” Silas chuckled, hugging me from behind. “Go ahead. I’ll even write the brief for you.” I can never win an argument with him. He always has that calm, detached lawyer persona. The more I get riled up, the more he looks at me with that infuriatingly indulgent, doting gaze. “Buy me a bag,” I demanded. “The new leather one.” I needed to make his wallet bleed a little to balance my soul. Plus, after a night of “punishment,” I deserved compensation. “Another bag? The repair bill for the Bentley is coming out of your allowance.” I spun around, tears still fresh on my face. “What? Why? I said I was sorry!” “Yes, you say it every time. And every time, you do it again.” “But you already punished me!” “Clearly, it wasn’t memorable enough. From now on, I’m putting you on a daily budget. Twenty dollars a day. If you’re good, I might take you shopping on the weekend. Twenty is plenty for coffee and lunch.” How can such a sexy mouth say such cold words? “Twenty dollars? I can’t even get brunch with my friends for twenty!” Silas ignored my protest, propping his head on one hand and closing his eyes. I grabbed his leg. “Babe, don’t be like this. Give me a monthly flat rate? Five thousand? Please… just to keep me afloat…” Silas opened one eye, looking shocked. He was clearly holding back a laugh. “…Are you sure?” “Yes! Five thousand! Deal? Don’t forget to wire it!” I was ecstatic. I really am a genius. Sometimes, you have to negotiate for your own interests! Silas pulled me into his arms, letting out a long sigh. “I really worry about you going out alone. You can’t even do basic math. Someone could sell you for parts, and you’d probably help them count the money.” Hey! I’m not that bad. 3 Early the next morning, my mother-in-law, Mrs. Miller, staged a surprise visit. When I heard noise in the living room, I groaned. “…Is that your mom?” Silas threw on a robe. “I’ll go check. Go back to sleep.” Through the cracked door, I heard them talking. “Is Piper still in bed? I brought some bone broth. She needs to drink it while it’s hot.” “She’s exhausted, Mom. Let her sleep.” Mrs. Miller lowered her voice. “You two shouldn’t overwork yourselves. You’re young; you should be focusing on starting a family.” !!! If only she knew why I was exhausted… I hopped out of bed, barefoot, listening at the door to see how Silas would handle the “baby talk.” “She’s still young. There’s no rush.” Young? I’m twenty-two! He’s just using me as a shield. Mrs. Miller wasn’t buying it. “Twenty-two isn’t that young. Besides, you’re almost thirty. If you have a baby now, I can help you look after it.” Silas sounded like he was losing the battle. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I opened the door. “Mom! You should have called, I would have come to pick you up!” I gave her a big hug. She’s a classic “tough exterior, soft heart” woman. She grumbled about us being dramatic, but she was beaming. “Oh, my Piper is finally awake. Drink this broth, honey. It’s for your health.” I caught Silas’s eye; he looked relieved. I downed the entire bowl of heavy-duty wellness broth and showed her the empty bottom. “All gone!” Silas looked at his own bowl of “Super-Recovery Tonic” and grimaced. “Mom, you don’t need to brew this anymore. Last time, I got a nosebleed from all the ‘energy’ it gave me.” “I adjusted the recipe this time. Less ginseng. Just drink it.” Silas hates medicinal-tasting things. I grabbed his bowl and downed it before he could stop me. I let out a loud burp that smelled like herbs. “I actually… hic… love this stuff…” Mrs. Miller patted my hand. “Piper is always the good one.” Under the table, Silas squeezed my hand. I winked at him. I got you. When she left, she left us with a mountain of ingredients and instructions to “build up our strength.” I nodded obediently. But as soon as the door closed, blood started dripping from my nose. Drip. Drip. Silas cursed softly, grabbing tissues and pinching my nose. “I’m telling her to stop the deliveries.” “It’s fine. She’s retired; she just needs to feel needed. We just have to understand.” I looked up at his handsome face. He smiled. “You little dork.” 4 While Silas was at work, I finally met up with my best friend, Chloe. We’d met at an art gallery. She’d married a wealthy tech heir and was living the full socialite life. When I told her Silas had limited my allowance to five thousand a month, she nearly choked on her latte. “No way. Silas Miller is that stingy? Wait, are you a math hater? Twenty dollars a day is six hundred a month. He offered you six hundred, and you ‘negotiated’ him up to five thousand?” She looked at me like I was insane. Silas had laughed for an hour about the same thing last night. I just graduated and haven’t started my career yet, and my book royalties haven’t kicked in. I’m broke. I’d asked a marketing expert to help me find clients for my custom illustrations, but he needed a down payment. If I’d taken the twenty dollars a day, it would have taken me months to start my business. So, losing a few hundred dollars in the long run was worth the “time” I bought. Chloe nodded slowly. “Your love for money is truly a race against time.” I shrugged, continuing my sketch. “A girl’s gotta eat.” I finished the commission and checked my watch. “I have to go home and cook. Silas has been working late; I’m going to drop off some food at the firm.” “Aww, no shopping?” I pinched her cheek. “When I’m a famous illustrator, I’ll buy the first round.” 5 It took half the day, but I finally finished the meal prep and the “special” stew. When I got to Miller & Associates, it was lunch hour. The associates were all eating at their desks. “Hey, guys! I made way too much, come grab some!” Leo, a junior associate, beamed at me. “Piper! Thank God. I’ve missed your cooking.” He reached for a container and stuffed a piece of braised beef into his mouth. “Incredible!” Silas heard the commotion and stepped out of his office. His tired face broke into a smile the moment he saw me. “I knew it was you.” “Whoa! Boss, check this out! This is some high-grade ‘stamina’ stew!” Leo had already opened the container of Silas’s special tonic. Silas’s face went dark. “Is your work done, Leo? Looking for some overtime?” Leo snapped to attention, trying not to laugh as he handed the container back to Silas. “My bad, Boss. Take care of yourself.” “Piper, in my office. Now.” I followed him in. He looked at the “stamina” ingredients in the stew with a flat expression. “You think I need this?” “No! No, no!” I waved my hands. “Your mom said it helps with… fatigue…” My head dropped. “Hmm. And then?” He was clearly enjoying my embarrassment. I sighed. “If you don’t like it, I’ll throw it out.” Silas quirked a smile and downed the whole thing in one go. “Fine. But don’t you dare start crying later tonight.” !!! I did it again. I walked right into my own trap. 6 Silas gets lost in his work. Seeing him so focused, I didn’t want to disturb him. He has a small lounge in his office with a daybed. I laid down and accidentally drifted off. In my sleep, I felt the bed sink. A warm body pressed against me, pulling me into a hug. My dreams shifted into a nightmare. I was opening a door to find blood everywhere. The metallic scent of iron was overwhelming. I ran to the bedroom, tripping over a rug. I looked up to see my parents on the floor, their eyes vacant. “NO!” I woke up screaming, drenched in sweat. “Another nightmare?” Silas immediately pulled me into his chest, his large hand rubbing my back in a soothing rhythm. I was shaking. I buried my face in his chest, inhaling his familiar scent—the only thing that made me feel safe. “I saw that day again…” Silas paused, his hand never stopping its rhythmic patting. “Don’t be afraid. It’s over. Garrett is dead.” Even hearing that name made my skin crawl. Silas and I met because of that man. Because of that man, I fell into an abyss of darkness. It all started five years ago, with the infamous “Vance Family Murders.” 7 Five years ago, I was seventeen, a junior in high school. My school had organized a late-night study session. That session saved my life. A man named Frank Vance had broken into our house. When my parents caught him, he killed them. But he didn’t leave. He saw my photo on the desk and waited in the shadows for me to come home. When I opened the door and saw the blood and the man standing behind the curtain, I ran. I ran until I found a neighbor who called the police. But the trial was a mess. Frank Vance denied everything. He claimed it was a burglary gone wrong, that my parents had attacked him first, and he’d acted in self-defense. “Liar! My parents were the most peaceful people I knew!” It was hopeless. I was wandering the streets of Chicago when I saw a poster of Silas Miller. He looked so young, so sharp, like a wolf in a suit. I used every connection I had just to get a meeting with him. I didn’t expect much. His fees were astronomical, and he was notoriously picky about cases. But he agreed instantly. We won. Frank Vance was sentenced to death. 8 Even though we won, I was an orphan. Silas was only twenty-four then. He stood at my door, backlit by the sun, looking like an angel who had accidentally wandered into the human world. “Come home with me.” I stepped out of my dark corner and took his hand. For the first time, I didn’t feel alone. I moved into his apartment. I took the master bedroom; he took the study. He worked constantly. The trauma had caused my grades to plummet. I was terrified to show him my report card. I stood outside his study, shaking. I expected disappointment. But it never came. He just looked at my mistakes and walked me through them, step by step. “It’s okay. Just do your best. No pressure.” Week after week, my cold, broken heart began to thaw. Every time I saw him, my heart would race—not out of fear, but something much more dangerous. But he seemed to be keeping his distance on purpose. So, I started avoiding him. I refused his tutoring. I tried to kill the feelings I shouldn’t have. Depression hit hard. I messed up my college entrance exams and missed out on my dream school. But that year, I turned eighteen. I didn’t need a guardian anymore. Silas noticed my withdrawal. When I packed my bags to move out, he blocked the door. “Don’t go.” I couldn’t look at him. “I’ve bothered you long enough. You should have your own life.” He grabbed my suitcase. “Don’t be ridiculous.” “I’m serious.” I tried to pull the suitcase away, but he held on tight. I looked up at him, defiant, and was suddenly silenced by a kiss. It was my first kiss. It was his, too. 9 Silas pulled me out of the abyss in his own way. He always said, “You don’t need to do anything. Just be happy.” Slowly, I became the girl I am now—cheerful, a bit of a brat, and very clingy. I love depending on him, even for things I can do myself. Like, I can open a package with my bare teeth, but if he’s there, I “can’t even open a water bottle.” I can dance in five-inch heels, but if he’s there, I “can’t walk another step,” just so he’ll carry me home. Depending on him makes him feel needed. “What would you do without me?” He’d say, his eyes full of pride and satisfaction. I’d hug him and retort, “What would you do without me?” I clean the house until it sparkles. I make the best stew. I wash and iron his shirts perfectly. He never knows where his clothes are without me. I even lay out his socks. I made his life seamless. He finally admitted defeat: “I guess I’m the one who can’t live without you.” Being needed is a wonderful thing. Looking in the mirror now, at my healthy glow, I can barely remember the broken girl crying in the corner of a classroom. When I woke up the next morning, Silas was already awake, dark circles under his eyes. “You were talking in your sleep again. Calling for your parents.” I stroked his cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t let you rest.” “Don’t be silly. I’m taking the day off. Let’s go visit them.” He’s always like this—tender and perceptive. We drove to the cemetery. The wild flowers were in bloom. I stood before my parents’ grave, holding Silas’s arm. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry. Silas has kept me well-fed and happy. I’m doing great.” Silas pulled me close and kissed the top of my head. Everything was perfect. 10 Silas dropped me off at home before heading back to the office for a call. “Go ahead, I’m fine. I’ll just rest at home.” He hesitated, so I squeezed his hand. “Really, I’m okay!” “Fine. I’ll drop you at the gate.” I waved goodbye. As I turned, I almost walked into someone. “Sorry! Did I step on you?” The man didn’t answer. He just shook his head. My skin prickled. I tried to walk faster toward the building. But he didn’t stop. He followed me. The faster I walked, the closer he got. Just as I was about to yell for the security guard, he caught up. A cold, hard knife point pressed into my waist. “You know what to do,” he whispered. I looked at the empty security booth and swallowed hard. I walked toward the parking garage. “What… what do you want?” “To the garage. Drive your car.” Silas’s Bentley was parked right there, freshly repaired. The man forced me into the driver’s seat and sat in the passenger side, the knife still against my side. “Who are you? If it’s money, I have cash in my bag…” His eyes narrowed. He looked unstable. “I don’t want money! I want Silas Miller to defend me. I hit someone. I don’t want to go to jail…” I swallowed. “Hit someone? Was it bad?” “They didn’t die from the hit. I had to finish the job with a knife.” “They… they’re dead?” “Duh! Why else would I be here? Call Silas. Tell him to save me! Or I’ll leave him with a corpse!” “Okay, okay, don’t be impulsive. You look like you come from a good family. If you have money, Silas can help…” He seemed to calm down slightly. I continued, “Silas is stubborn, but he listens to me. I’ll talk to him.” “Call him now.” I dialed Silas, but it went to voicemail. He was in a meeting. The man snapped. He told me to drive out of the complex. The roads got more and more deserted. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but I knew I couldn’t wait much longer. Seeing a late-night taco stand ahead, I made a choice. I yanked the steering wheel and slammed the Bentley straight into a utility pole. The world went blurry for a second. I didn’t hesitate; I unbuckled my seatbelt and bolted out of the car. People from the taco stand rushed over. I grabbed a stranger and told them to call 911. When Silas arrived, it was the first time I’d ever seen him look panicked. I looked at him, breathless. “I’m sorry. I crashed the car again…” He pulled me into a hug so tight I thought my ribs would snap. “Piper,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “Nothing is more important than your life.” 11 The man was caught. He begged Silas to defend him, to cover up the crime. But Silas Miller doesn’t work that way. Silas was wracked with guilt. He spent the whole day preparing the prosecution’s files. “I’m going to make sure he rots in prison.” I rubbed his palm. “Hey, look at me. I’m okay.” “If something had happened… I would never have forgiven myself.” Silas is that kind of man. He can tease me, but if anyone else touches me, he’ll make them pay tenfold. Since I had some minor injuries, Silas dragged me to the hospital for a full checkup. Mrs. Miller arrived and smacked Silas’s arm. “I told you to be more flexible, but you keep making enemies! Don’t drag my Piper into this!” Silas stood there and took it. I felt bad for him. “Mom, he’s not being inflexible. He’s being a man of principle. That’s why I love him.” She laughed, giving Silas a look. “Only Piper would spoil you like this.” Well, he’s my husband. Of course I’m going to spoil him. In a world full of corruption, Silas’s integrity is his brightest light. As his wife, I wasn’t going to let him down. I’ve been getting a lot of illustration commissions lately. Looking at my bank balance, I felt the thrill of making my own money. Naturally, this was a secret account. My “mad money.” But I decided to use my first big paycheck to treat Silas to a fancy dinner.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “413022”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Because I forgot to switch to my burner account while tipping my favorite male streamer. I was forced to drop my mask in front of a live audience of millions. When the guy I was crushing on read the donation alert out loud: “Thanks to the actress, Chloe Vance, for gifting 100 Tier 3 subs.” The chat exploded: “HOLY SH*T, REAL OR FAKE??!!” “What kind of Hollywood x Esports crossover is this!!!” “Turns out our girl is a simp for a pretty face too!” “A new weird ship has sailed.” I went numb. Just like that, my cover was blown. Five minutes later, my manager arrived on the battlefield. Thank you all. I passed away peacefully. 1 Shine was the undisputed king of the pro gaming league. He had the skills, the looks, and the attitude. The absolute ceiling for an ADC (Marksman), a five-time champion, and a notoriously handsome guy with a toxic mouth—these were the labels plastered all over him. I was his fan. Well, actually, not just a fan. Because, in my humble reality, I am currently a very famous, A-list actress. Plus, I liked him long before he even became an esports player. But ever since he went pro, I finally had a legitimate excuse to watch him openly. My burner account was his top donator. I had been there since his early streaming days when he barely had an audience. Lately, though, with his tournament schedule packed, he streamed less and less. And he never announced his schedule. Catching a stream was pure luck. Half a month ago, I finally managed to catch one of Shine’s streams. When I clicked in, he was already in the middle of a high-ranked match. Out of pure muscle memory, I blindly gifted a massive string of 100-sub bombs. A whole wall of premium gifts flooded the screen, and he didn’t even flinch. It wasn’t until his teammate sitting next to him nudged him that he slowly looked up at his monitor and casually read the alert: “Thanks to the actress, Chloe Vance, for gifting 100 Tier 3 subs.” Then, he seemed to realize something was off. His character, who was in the middle of fighting the boss monster, completely froze. He spaced out. Caught off guard, the enemy jungler and bot lane immediately ganked and killed him. While waiting to respawn, he looked back at the screen. The chat was moving at the speed of light. “WTF WTF WTF IS THIS REAL??!!” “A few subs literally made Shine AFK, lmao.” “Is this the Chloe Vance I’m thinking of?!” “What kind of Hollywood x Esports crossover is this!!!” “I just checked her profile, IT’S HER VERIFIED ACCOUNT!” “She’s a simp for a pretty face too!” “A new weird ship has sailed.” I realized what I’d done way too late. I was paralyzed. I f*cking forgot to switch to my burner account! I didn’t even get to watch the rest of the stream before my manager’s call blasted through my phone. She proceeded to give me a 45-minute lecture filled with “tough love.” The TL;DR: Stay off the internet and stop touching social media. By the time I snuck back into Shine’s stream, he was already offline. Why was he so short today?! I had to settle for the VOD. I never expected those subs to have such a massive ripple effect. That same day, they launched me straight to the #1 trending spot on Twitter. Thinking back to whenever I had a movie coming out, my PR team had to bleed money just to get me trending. And now? A few gifted subs had Chloe and Shine’s names glued to the top three trending topics. My manager told me not to respond. I buried my head in the sand like an ostrich. I figured once the hype died down, I could just go back to my burner account, donate, and watch him in peace. But barely two weeks later, my manager enthusiastically walked up to me. “Got a gig for you! I booked you on a variety show.” “I’m a movie actress, I don’t do reality TV. No way.” “It’s the Hollywood winter right now. You’re turning down work? Made enough money and want to retire early?” Retire? I wouldn’t dare. I still needed to make money to buy subs for Shine. “You’ll be filming it with Shine. You in? If not, I’ll pass it to one of my other clients.” Oh my god? Was it a dating show? A crossover romance between an A-list actress and an esports star? I admit, my heart skipped a beat. “I’m in! I’m in! I’ll do it!” Only after I arrived did I realize I’d been scammed. My imagined dating show? Didn’t exist. I was there to be a glorified intern for his team. Fine. Even if it wasn’t romantic, it still counted as a crossover. 2 It wasn’t until I stood in the lobby of the YKG gaming house that I realized I was actually here to film at Shine’s base. The show, Star Assistants, was an experiential reality show. The gimmick was taking celebrities and dropping them into ordinary, grueling assistant jobs across different industries to experience life outside the glamorous Hollywood bubble. Other actors went to be paralegals, dental assistants, or farmhands. And me? I just happened to be sent to Shine’s team as an esports team assistant. “The team assistant’s job is very tedious. It includes—but isn’t limited to—packing gear for the players during tournaments, managing their schedules, accompanying them to brand events, monitoring their streams, observing their mental health and reporting to management… oh, and waking them up,” Riley, the actual YKG team assistant, explained as she gave me a tour. “Waking them up?” I was terrible at waking up myself. “Yep. They practice late. You have to wake them up before noon every day for lunch.” Noon. Okay, that wasn’t too bad. “Oh, and some of the guys get really cranky in the morning, so be careful,” Riley added. “They’re in the second-floor training room reviewing a match right now. Let’s go say hi.” In the training room, a group of young guys in team jerseys was watching a replay. The moment I pushed the door open, all eyes locked onto me. Look, I know I’m a gorgeous actress, but being stared at like this made me shy. Right, I forgot. I had a whole camera crew trailing behind me. “Hi everyone, I’m Chloe. I’m the team’s new assistant. Just call me Chloe,” I said, pulling out my signature, approachable red-carpet smile. “Hey, what’s up.” “Hi, nice to meet you.” “Wow, Chloe is even prettier in real life than on screen.” Everyone greeted me warmly. Except Shine. He sat alone in the corner. Even though he was quiet, his aura and looks made him impossible to ignore. After greeting everyone, I walked right up to him. “Hi, I’m Chloe. I’ll be your assistant for a while. Hope we get along!” “Hi, I’m Shine. First time meeting you, nice to work with you.” He stood up and gave me a painfully polite, official greeting. First time meeting me my ass. Did he completely forget me? Then again, back in high school, we barely interacted. It was probably normal that he didn’t remember. He was a lot taller than he was five years ago. The red and white team jersey made his skin look pale and flawless. His short, dyed-black hair made him look sharp and cold. He used to rock this stubborn, ash-grey hair forever; he probably dyed it black just for the TV cameras. I stood there, zoning out as I looked at him, remembering the first time we met. Back then, he wasn’t Shine. He was Asher Hayes. It was after school during my sophomore year. In the alley behind Westbridge High, I ran into Asher for the first time. Even though school had only started two months ago, his reputation preceded him. When I saw him, he was leaning against a brick wall, casually smoking a cigarette and joking around with some punk kids. In the crowd, he stood out entirely. His height made the sloppy school uniform look like a fashion statement. His skin was pale, and his features were aggressively handsome. Who knew the school’s notorious bad boy was this hot? But I always steered clear of guys like him. Being robbed was my biggest fear. I cast a quick glance his way, lowered my head, and tried to speed-walk past them. One of the punks noticed me anyway. He smirked and catcalled, “Hey, check out the body on that one.” My face flushed bright red. I just wanted to escape. Asher took a drag of his cigarette, glanced at me indifferently, and then kicked the punk right in the shin—not too hard, not too soft. “Keep your mouth clean.” That simple rescue made me notice him from that day on. I unconsciously started collecting stories about him around school. Like how he got into a fight today and beat someone up. Like how he skipped class to play games at the internet cafe and got caught. Like how some fearless girl confessed to him, and he rejected her. My entire high school life was basically spent harboring a massive secret crush on him. Of course I thought about confessing, but by the time I finished my acting auditions and came back to school senior year, he was gone. Rumor had it he was expelled for fighting. Then, during my freshman year of college, I found out through a high school group chat that he had become a pro gamer. I remembered he used to skip class to game, and he was insanely good at it. I started following him again, watching him go from a nobody rookie to a superstar on the main stage. But all of that was completely shattered by his polite “First time meeting you.” I suddenly felt the urge to cry. A crush really is just a one-person war. He had caused a hurricane in my world. But in his story, I was just a background character who didn’t even deserve a name. My heart felt like someone had crushed a dozen lemons over it—sour and suffocating. I swallowed my emotions, flashed a bright smile, and forced my slightly raspy voice to sound steady: “For me, it’s not our first time meeting.” 3 Because of that sentence, every single eye and camera lens in the room snapped to us. Asher’s eyes suddenly burned a little hotter. I quickly laughed and explained, “I watch your matches all the time.” Editor, please loop this in the teaser trailer. I wasn’t stupid. I wasn’t going to drop my mask that easily again. I absolutely could not let everyone know we went to high school together. The room let out a collective breath of relief. Asher’s shoulders relaxed slightly. “I watch your movies a lot, too.” No need to be polite, bro. I literally heard you say on stream: I don’t follow celebrities, I don’t watch movies. No time. Assistants didn’t actually have to live in the gaming house. Riley clocked out and went home shortly after. But for the sake of gathering footage, the producers made me stay in the dorms. A single room at the end of the fourth-floor hallway. Right next to Asher’s room. I suspected they wanted to push a romance angle between us. Honestly, I wanted to, too. But I had no opening. He constantly had this “do not approach” aura around him. After dinner, I went back to my room to unpack. The crew then cued me to go downstairs and watch the players stream. It was the end of the month, so grinding out stream hours was their usual post-dinner routine. When I got to the streaming room, the support player, Finn, was already interacting with his chat. I said hi to him and sat quietly in a chair off-camera, watching him play. Suddenly, his chat was flooded. “We want to see Chloe!” “Alright guys, give me a sec. Let me ask if Chloe wants to duo,” Finn said. He was a sweet, soft-spoken guy. He turned to me. “Chloe, want to play a round?” “Sure.” Just as Finn added me and we were about to start our happy duo queue… Asher strolled into the room with a cup of coffee. “Huh? Captain, didn’t you finish your stream hours for the month? Why are you live again?” “You ate lunch today, didn’t you? Didn’t you still eat two bowls of rice for dinner?” … The chat erupted in “LMAOOOO”. He took a sip of his coffee and booted up the PC right next to mine. “Can’t I just miss my fans?” Asher rolled his eyes at Finn. “Captain, wanna trio with us?” Finn, completely ignoring the eye roll, craned his neck to ask. “Sure.” Finn was too stunned that he agreed so fast to realize how rare it was to get the Captain to queue with him. I saw the true power of reality TV right there. I swear, this was the closest I had ever been to Asher. I was sitting right between his and Finn’s setups. A straight-line distance of less than a foot. If he just leaned casually in my direction, my heart skipped a few beats. Since my account rank was low, they both hopped on their smurfs. “What do you play? I’ll grab it for you,” Asher asked, turning his head during the ban phase. “I’ll play Mid.” Honestly, I didn’t have many heroes I was good at. Besides mages, I only played support, and all the good supports were banned. I had to lock in a mage. Who knew that in the first few minutes, I’d get ganked by the enemy Jungler and Mid laner over and over? I burned my flash and still fed two kills. Our Jungler typed in all-chat: “Mid, do you know how to play? Can you just hide under the tower?” Me: “Okay, okay.” I turtled under my tower to clear minion waves. Asher: “Finn, go help Mid.” “Don’t panic Chloe, I’m coming.” I died twice early, my farm was stolen by our Jungler, and I was the poorest player in the game. Even with Finn’s help, it was miserable. Our Jungler was clearly duo-queued with the Top laner and only ganked top. He ignored mid completely, then typed in chat to flame me: “Mid didn’t even help me defend my blue buff. What a waste of space.” … Asher won a 1v2 in his lane, took the first tower, and immediately rotated to Mid to gank. He killed the enemy Mid and pushed down the tier-1 tower. Then his fingers flew across his keyboard, typing in all-chat: “Jungler, stop rotating to help Mid. Are you on maternity leave in the jungle?” Pfft. Hahahaha. The stream chat went wild. The Jungler, currently farming a camp, fell dead silent. Led by Asher, we pushed all the way to the enemy base. They defended hard, and we couldn’t crack the high-ground towers. The boss monster spawned. Our Jungler confidently went to solo it. Halfway through, the enemy Jungler ambushed him. Our Jungler died, and the boss was stolen. While the enemy Jungler was recalling, the four of us shattered their high ground and pushed the core. As we hit the core, Asher dropped another sarcastic bomb in all-chat: “Next time, teach me how to play the game with just your mouth. You farmed so badly I feel sorry for the jungle camps.” The next second, the core exploded. Victory. Flawless execution. Didn’t even leave the guy a chance to reply. If I were that Jungler, I’d be coughing up blood. The Toxic King of Esports. He lived up to the hype. Before the next match started. “Chloe.” “Yeah?” It was the first time Asher had said my name. Why did those two syllables sound so incredibly good coming from him? “Play ADC next game. I’ll support you.” I looked into Asher’s ink-black eyes and couldn’t find a single trace of a joke. Huh? The best Marksman in the league wanted to play Support for me? Finn: Did the sun just rise in the west? 4 Because the show was filmed and aired concurrently, I only stayed at the house for two nights during the first block. Future schedules would adjust based on audience feedback. The next day, Asher streamed for a solid 7 hours. After dinner, he played high-tier ranked games until midnight, then pushed his main account ranking. Fans kept saying he changed; he was suddenly so eager to stream. He just replied flatly, “When am I not eager? I just want to spend more time with you guys.” If I wasn’t sitting right there, I would’ve thought he was whispering sweet nothings to some girl on the phone. The moment he said that, the chat went feral. Gifts flooded the screen. If he wasn’t sleeping, I didn’t dare slack off either. Everyone else went to bed. I just sat by his computer with him, all the way until 2 AM. After he logged off. The crew took off our mics and packed up the cameras. He stood up, cracked his neck, and stretched. I secretly peeked as the hem of his white t-shirt lifted, exposing a razor-sharp V-line. Lord have mercy. “Thanks for the hard work, staying up with me to practice.” “No problem.” Happy to do it again. By the time I showered and got back to my room, it was past 2:30 AM. A knock sounded at the door. “You awake?” ! Asher! In the middle of the night… Coming to my room… Could it be… Stop it. My brain was full of trash. How could that be? “Not yet, what’s up?” I quickly got up and opened the door. A fresh wave of citrus body wash hit me. Asher stood in my doorway in his pajamas. He looked like he just stepped out of the shower, his hair still dripping wet. “My hairdryer broke. Did you bring yours? Can I borrow it?” “I did, let me get it.” Because I was leaving the next day, I had packed all my stuff into my suitcase. I had to open my luggage and dig around to find it. “Want to come in first? It might take me a second.” There was too much stuff in there. “Is it convenient?” “Yeah, come in.” He walked in and sat on the chair opposite my bed, waiting. “Here, finally found it.” “Can I just use it here? Do you mind?” “No, not at all, go ahead.” So, he took the hairdryer and slowly started drying his hair. The whirring filled the room. I sat on the edge of the bed, secretly watching him under the warm light. The way his hand casually ran through his hair was ridiculously attractive. His knuckles were defined, his fingers long and strong, veins popping on the back of his hand. Not too delicate, not too rough. They say hands are a man’s second face, and they aren’t wrong. Looking back at the past two days, it felt surreal yet entirely natural. Was it because I was already so familiar with him in my head? Even though we had only hung out for two days, I felt like I had gotten very close to him. Like an old friend. The next morning at 9 AM, I had to catch a flight. My manager and a driver came to pick me up. A few team members specifically woke up early to see me off. In the group, I didn’t see Asher’s silhouette. “Where’s Captain? Why isn’t he up yet?” Finn asked. “He streamed until the middle of the night. Probably catching up on sleep. Let’s not wait for him,” Caleb, the Top laner, said. “Alright, I’ll get going then. See you guys in a few days,” I said, hiding my slight disappointment with a smile. The driver loaded my suitcase into the van. I stood by the door, looking around one last time. Still no Asher. Just as I turned to get in the car, a voice called out from the distance. “Chloe.” I whipped my head around. Asher came jogging over from down the street, holding a paper bag. “Bought you breakfast. Eat it on the way.” He was slightly out of breath. “Thank you! You shouldn’t have!” “Safe travels. See you in a few days.” “See you.” Once in the car, I opened the bag. A cup of hot soy milk and a warm, loaded breakfast burrito. In a daze, I realized that to maintain my weight for the cameras, it had been a long time since I ate such a high-calorie breakfast. I took my phone out and snapped a picture of it. Today was a day worth remembering. Back in the team lobby. Finn: “Captain, where did you go? Chloe already left, why are you just getting back?” Asher, breaking his usual habit, didn’t roast him. He just smiled and went upstairs to sleep. Finn: Did the sun really just rise in the west? 5 A couple of days after I got home, the rough-cut trailer for the show dropped. Because the concept was so fresh, it got a huge wave of attention. Asher—wait, I mean Shine—trended on Twitter. A bunch of girls who didn’t even watch esports were drooling over his face. Everyone was saying his toxic mouth was the price he paid for those looks. The Toxic King of Esports was brutally funny. The shippers for Shine and Finn started celebrating too. “This toxic top / soft bottom dynamic is PERFECT!” “I’m eating this up!” “I’m dying, I love them!” Both of their personal follower counts spiked along with the official show account. A few days later, the producers contacted my team. Producer: “Chloe, did you see the trailer?” “I did, the reception is pretty good.” “It is, but Chloe, your interactions with Shine in episode one were a bit sparse. We’re hoping you can interact with him more in the upcoming shoots. But it wasn’t really your fault; the first recording didn’t have any structured activities. Everyone was just practicing or streaming. We’ll set up better scenarios next time.” “Okay, got it.” A week later, I was notified it was time to shoot again. This time, we were filming two episodes back-to-back. I had to live at the base for five days. My manager had to compress my schedule to an insane degree. Right before my flight, I was still in a studio shooting a fashion magazine cover. I practically sprinted to the airport rocking heavy smoky makeup and a messy, avant-garde hairstyle. People stared at me like a zoo animal… By the time I arrived at the team base, it was 1 AM. The driver unloaded my luggage and left after my manager gave me a few warnings. As I dragged my massive 32-inch suitcase down the dark path toward the front door, a dark shadow suddenly sprinted past me. !!! I panicked and forced myself to look. It was Asher. He was wearing a black tracksuit and running shoes, basically blending into the night. “Oh, it’s you. Scared me to death,” I sighed in relief. “Why are you so late?” “I had to cram all my work together to clear the next few days. It was a tight squeeze. Why are you out here so late?” “Night run.” “Oh, keeping in shape. Nice.” “Yeah.” He smoothly grabbed my suitcase handle and walked into the base ahead of me. Inside, Finn and the Jungler were chatting in the lobby. They watched Asher walk in dragging my pink suitcase. Finn spoke up. “Captain, you’re finally back? I thought you went to run a marathon. It’s been almost three hours.” Three hours? Insane stamina! “Oh, Chloe, you’re back too?” “Yeah, flight just landed.” “Captain, go shower and sleep. We waited forever for you. We have scrims tomorrow.” “I didn’t ask you to wait.” “Bro, you’re a delicate, beautiful man. Running around in the dark for hours? What if some creep targeted you? You never know.” That comment earned Finn a massive eye roll from Asher. “Chloe, get some rest. We’re going to sleep too, scrims tomorrow.” “Okay, goodnight guys.” Asher dragged my suitcase all the way to my door. “Get some rest.” “I will. Thanks for the help, goodnight.” “Goodnight.” I went to the bathroom to wash up. When I looked in the mirror, I jumped. I thought Asher was a creep in the dark? Looking at my crazy fashion-shoot makeup, I looked like the ghost. I washed up and laid in bed, eager for tomorrow. Thinking about how my path and Asher’s had crossed from parallel lines in our youth to this. My chest filled with a sweet, bubbly emotion. A room I had only slept in twice already felt warmly familiar. Maybe I was just exhausted, but I fell asleep quickly. The next day, I got ready, and the crew mic’d me up. When I got downstairs, I saw the other players waiting for lunch, including Riley, who I hadn’t seen in a while. I quickly went over and said hi. “It’s almost time to eat, where’s Shine?” the Coach asked. “Caleb, go wake him up.” Caleb, the Jungler, had been on the team forever and was the same age as Shine. “Hell no. He has Tier-1 morning crankiness. I’m not getting punched.” The others immediately pretended to take phone calls or ran to the bathroom. Basically, everyone adopted an “I’m just passing through, don’t ask me” attitude. “I’ll go! I’ll go!” Riley volunteered enthusiastically, standing up to head upstairs. But she was stopped. The producer held up a cue card behind the camera: Please have Chloe wake up Shine. Seeing this, the Coach had no choice. “Chloe, you go wake up Shine.” I looked around. Everyone’s face said the exact same thing: May God have mercy on your soul. … Is this the “forced interaction” the producers wanted?

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The day the Seacrest earthquake hit, my husband abandoned me and flew to another city to find his childhood sweetheart. Buried under the crushing weight of the rubble, I sent him a text: “Ethan, there was an earthquake. I’m trapped underground. It’s so dark, I’m so scared…” Hours later, right before the rescue team pulled me out, I sent him two final messages, then tossed my phone deep into the ruins. “Ethan, I can’t hold on anymore. Thank God you were busy with work, or else you would have died down here with me and our baby.” “I’m so glad you’re safe.” —I did it on purpose. I deliberately wanted him to think I died in that darkness. I wanted him to spend the rest of his life repenting for me and the unborn child he left behind. I wanted him to weep bitter tears, choked by a regret he could never undo. And when he could no longer hide from the truth of what he’d done, I would walk right up to him and say: “I want a divorce.” 1 In the second year of my marriage to Ethan, his first love came back from abroad. I was there with him at the airport to pick her up. I watched with my own eyes as the slender, fragile girl in a long white dress threw herself into his arms with tears in her eyes, like a bird finally returning to its nest. “Ethan, I finally get to see you again.” Ethan’s body went rigid for a second before he reached out and gently stroked her hair. “There, there. It’s okay now.” I stood right next to them, feeling as unnecessary as a third wheel. I hesitated for a moment before stepping forward to grab Ethan’s hand, forcing a smile. “Alright, since we’ve found her, let’s go home.” It was as if she had just noticed me. She pulled away from Ethan’s embrace. She smiled, but her face showed a trace of awkward surprise. “Ethan, you’re married?” Ethan gave a low hum of confirmation. The three of us headed home together in a suffocatingly awkward silence. Of course, maybe the only one feeling awkward was me. Chloe was Ethan’s first love, his “one that got away”—and technically, his adopted sister. I always knew Ethan had a girl buried deep in his heart, but it wasn’t until after we got married that I learned the full story. Ethan’s background was complicated. He was an orphan. His biological parents died in a car crash when he was nine. Afterward, his father’s best friend—Chloe’s father—took him in. And so, the story of Ethan and Chloe began. Ethan was a withdrawn, quiet child. His childhood trauma had built a wall of ice around him. But Chloe came from a wealthy, happy family. She was innocent and carefree, a little ray of sunshine that slowly melted Ethan’s icy exterior and gave him the warmth of a home. —Of course, Ethan never explicitly told me about his past with Chloe. I pieced it all together myself. But when I led Chloe into the home Ethan and I had shared for three years, and watched her curiously touching this and tracing that, I knew my guess was dead on. That evening, when I was getting ready to cook, Ethan brought home a bag of walnuts and asked me to make walnut-crusted chicken. He said, “Chloe loves walnut-crusted chicken more than anything.” I lowered my eyes and didn’t speak for a long time. Ethan was never a detail-oriented person. I had known him for eight years. I spent five of those years chasing him, and the last three living with him as his wife. Even so, he would still forget my preferences. He even forgot that I was deathly allergic to walnuts. But he remembered Chloe’s favorite meal perfectly. Even though she had been living in Europe for the past six years. I pressed my lips together and asked, “Ethan, did you forget? I’m allergic to walnuts. If I even touch them, I break out in hives.” He seemed to freeze. Then, he smiled and gently nudged me out of the kitchen. “I’m sorry, Maya. I forgot. We never have walnuts on our dinner table anyway. Why don’t you go sit in the living room? I’ll make dinner tonight.” Actually, I had eaten walnuts with Ethan once. Three years ago, right after I finally managed to win his heart. I was walking on cloud nine that day. During lunch, he randomly ordered a walnut and goat cheese salad, and without even looking, I took a bite. That time, he was the one who rushed me to the ER. But that was a long time ago. He must have forgotten. I nodded silently and didn’t argue. Chloe was sitting in the living room, and I didn’t want to make the atmosphere tense. During dinner, perhaps out of guilt for the kitchen incident, Ethan kept putting food on my plate. “The shrimp is really good today.” I ate it slowly. When I looked up, I saw Chloe place a piece of shrimp on my plate as well. She looked at Ethan, then at me, her smile gentle and her gesture perfectly natural. “He’s right, Maya. Eat some more. Ethan makes the best shrimp.” It felt like I was the guest in my own home. 2 Chloe moved into our guest room. It was Ethan’s idea. Three days ago, Ethan suddenly told me that his sister, who lived abroad, was moving back. He told me she had a really hard time over the years. She was all alone in Paris, cheated on by her ex-boyfriend, and diagnosed with severe depression… When he said these things, his lips were pressed into a tight line, his eyes dark with a heavy sense of frustration and pain. Seeing him like that made my heart ache. So, when he said, “She’s coming back alone. She doesn’t want to go back to her parents’ house and worry them, so she wants to crash with us for a bit,” I agreed without hesitation. At that time, I didn’t know his so-called “sister” was the love he’d been longing for all these years. It wasn’t until I saw Chloe’s face at the airport that it hit me— I had seen her photo before. It was tucked inside a worn copy of The Great Gatsby on Ethan’s bookshelf. He had used her photo as a bookmark on page 68. On that page, he had underlined a quote in black ink. —“If they ask me what my sorrow is, I wouldn’t dare say your name.” —She was the secret he had kept hidden in the depths of his heart. That night, I couldn’t sleep, my mind racing with thoughts of Ethan and Chloe. Ethan hugged me from behind, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Can’t sleep?” I nodded. Then, we heard a sharp crash from the living room. I walked out of the bedroom. Chloe was standing in the middle of the living room, surrounded by shattered ceramic pieces, tears streaming down her face, her slender body trembling. 3 The shattered pieces on the floor were custom clay figurines of me and Ethan. We made them at a pottery class the day we officially started dating. I sculpted him, and he sculpted me. I always treated them as our most precious keepsakes. I even carved “Ethan and Maya, forever and always” on the wooden base. But now, they were smashed into dozens of pieces. I stared at the ruins of our figurines, frowning. Ethan’s eyes, however, immediately fell on Chloe. Chloe looked beautiful when she cried. Her eyes turned a delicate shade of red, tears falling like rain on a spring flower. Anyone who saw her wouldn’t have the heart to scold her. “It’s just a clay doll. It’s nothing. Don’t cry,” Ethan sighed softly, pulling her to sit on the sofa. He furrowed his brows. “Why are you so clumsy? You cut your foot.” He left me standing there alone, cleaning up the shattered pieces of our history like a maid. Chloe sat on the couch, frowning, tears in her eyes, looking entirely helpless and pitiful. “Maya… I didn’t mean to. I… I just… I just…” “I couldn’t sleep, so I came out for a walk. I thought the dolls were cute and wanted to look at them, but my hand slipped…” “Maya, I’m so sorry…” Her hands were shaking as she spoke. Before she could finish, she burst into tears again, as if she had recalled something incredibly painful. Seeing her like this, I said nothing. I walked out to the balcony and pulled out a cigarette. Chloe always called me by my first name in that sickeningly sweet tone. When Ethan was in the kitchen earlier, I sat with her in the living room. She kept asking me about my life with Ethan, calling me “Maya” every other breath. I corrected her: “I’m married to Ethan. You should call me your sister-in-law.” She didn’t reply. Instead, she picked up a cat-shaped throw pillow from the couch and smiled at me with feigned surprise. “Oh wow! Look at this, Maya. I gave this to Ethan before I left for Europe. I can’t believe he still has it.” My stomach churned. I rolled the unlit cigarette between my fingers. I wasn’t actually going to smoke it. I was pregnant. I couldn’t smoke. He just didn’t know yet. I hadn’t found the right time to tell him. Maybe I had been standing on the balcony too long, because Ethan walked over and snatched the cigarette from my hand. “Quit smoking. It’s bad for you.” I hadn’t planned on lighting it anyway. Ethan didn’t like women who smoked. His type had always been girls like Chloe—long black hair, white dresses, clean and fragile. “Where’s your sister?” I asked. He gestured toward the guest room. “She went to sleep.” I gave a flat “Oh” and kept pressing. “Don’t you need to keep her company?” “What?” He froze. I smiled. I asked him how long Chloe was planning to stay here. I looked him in the eye, dropping all pretense. “Ethan, I don’t like your sister.” “Do you know something? Years ago, when I was still chasing you, you got blackout drunk. You held me and kept calling out ‘Chloe.’ I didn’t know who you were talking about back then, but now I do…” “Do you really just see her as a sister?” “Ethan, tell her to move out. She goes, or I go. Pick one.” 4 Ethan stared at me for a long time, his expression conflicted, before letting out a long sigh. “Maya, what happened earlier—Chloe didn’t do it on purpose. She’s just… she has depression. She’s emotionally unstable. Can’t you be a little more understanding?” “I know it’s unfair of me to ask this of you, but her parents, and Chloe herself, were so good to me when I had nothing…” “I didn’t bring her here with any ulterior motives. The past is the past. I really just see her as my sister now.” “I have you, don’t I?” Ethan begged me to believe him. I looked at him, and memories flooded my mind. I met Ethan in high school. He was handsome and had great grades, but he wasn’t popular. Why? Because he was too isolated. He always sat in the back row, leaning against the wall in the darkest corner of the classroom. When he sat there, the corner seemed even darker, like light couldn’t even reach him. But I liked him. I felt like we were the same. Ethan was a transfer student in our senior year. It was rare for anyone to transfer during such a crucial time, but he did. For that entire year, I never saw his parents. Of course, I never saw mine, either. My parents divorced when I was young, and neither of them wanted me. They fought in court, and the judge finally gave me to my dad. Shortly after, they both started their own new families, and I became the disposable leftover. I guessed Ethan’s home life was similar to mine. Or maybe even worse. After all, my dad was generous with his money, even if he didn’t give me his time. But Ethan, even with the intense pressure of senior year, worked part-time at a coffee shop every single day. My heart ached for him. More importantly, I knew Ethan was actually incredibly gentle. He looked cold, but one time, after a huge fight with my dad, I hid behind the school bleachers crying. He walked past me, didn’t say a word, but quietly left a pack of tissues next to me. I still remember it was dusk. The breeze was warm, and the golden sunset hit him perfectly, making even the tips of his hair glow. I think I fell in love with him right in that moment. Later, I followed him to the same college. I started chasing him. I gave him everything I had. For four years of college, Ethan rarely went home. Holidays, winter breaks, summer breaks—he stayed on campus alone. I shamelessly stuck by his side to keep him company. I spent Christmas after Christmas, birthday after birthday with him. He liked girls with long hair in white dresses, so I grew out my short hair and wore the dresses he liked. He liked home-cooked meals, saying they tasted like family, so I learned how to cook just to make him his favorite dishes. I did so many things for him. But as I did them, I realized… someone else had already done all of this for him first. His life was heavily marked by another girl’s presence. But it didn’t matter. I never gave up. If someone else had done it, I would just do it better. I would be so good to him that no one could ever replace me. I had never had anyone treat me well in my entire life. So, I loved him with everything I had. I chased him for five years before the clouds finally cleared and he accepted me. But now, that girl was back. … “Even if you guarantee that you only see her as a sister, what about Chloe?” “Can you guarantee she doesn’t have feelings for you?” This time, he didn’t speak for a long time. After a heavy silence, he said: “She doesn’t. It’s all in the past.” Ethan promised me. He swore that no matter what, he only saw Chloe as a sister. He said he was already looking for an apartment for her. In a few days, once she stabilized, he would move her out. And me… In the end, I couldn’t bear to let him go. I couldn’t let go of our eight years together. I decided to trust him one last time. For the eight years we shared. And for the unborn baby in my womb. I subconsciously touched my stomach, then quickly dropped my hand. “Ethan, you said it yourself. You better not be lying to me.” “If you lie to me, I promise you, you’ll regret it.” “I will make you regret it.”

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