One drunken night, I ended up in bed with Adrian Wells, and before I knew it, he became my live-in husband. No matter how much my family and I humiliated or belittled him, he never lost his temper, always wearing that calm, considerate mask. But just when I started falling for him, he asked for a divorce. The once-submissive man had become someone entirely different. Life flipped—my family lost everything, and he rose to success, turning into the powerful figure who now held all the power I’d once had over him. My husband is a live-in son-in-law. Originally, I’d liked his younger brother, but after a night out with friends, he saw his chance while I was drunk, and the scandal was all anyone could talk about. My father had no choice but to marry me off to Adrian, under the condition that he’d live with our family and answer to us. Adrian’s father, who’d remarried after divorcing Adrian’s mother, had always kept him at a distance. But with our family’s status, I’d been my parents’ pride and joy since birth. His father didn’t mind handing Adrian over to our family. And so, we got married. But I couldn’t stand it. My heart belonged to his younger brother, after all. Resentment simmered inside me. I treated Adrian with contempt, making him sleep on the floor, never allowing him to share the bed. At meals, my brother and I mocked him, denying him even a single dish from the table. When he’d show up in the rain to bring me an umbrella, I’d yell at him in front of everyone. No matter how much we berated him, Adrian never lost his temper. He acted like it didn’t bother him, always calm, always there to serve. He was undeniably attractive, but he’d been shy and awkward in school, scraping by academically, his grades a disappointment. His brother, by contrast, was bright, athletic, and admired by everyone. Thinking about how my budding romance with his brother had been wrecked by Adrian only made me despise him more. One night, I kicked him awake from his spot on the floor, claiming I was thirsty. He quickly got up and brought me a glass of warm water, even remembering to make it lukewarm as the weather got colder. But when I thought about how he’d taken advantage of me that night, I threw the water in his face. Even then, he didn’t react, just silently went to the bathroom. I felt a hint of guilt as I watched his tall, silent figure, but the anger over him ruining my life erased any sympathy. This went on for three years. Three years is enough time for a lot to change. My family went bankrupt. I started to feel something for him, but then… he handed me divorce papers. When he told me his “one true love” had returned, a pang hit my chest so sharply I felt I couldn’t breathe. But my pride—instilled in me since birth—kept me from showing any sign of hurt. I signed the papers quickly. After I signed, his cool voice broke the silence beside me. “Need a driver to take you somewhere?” It was only then I remembered this house—my home for over twenty years—wasn’t ours anymore. We’d lost it in the bankruptcy. Adrian, whom we had once humiliated as a live-in husband, had quietly built his own empire without touching a dime of my family’s money. He’d even bought the house. I had no right to resent him. Everything he had, he’d earned, painstakingly, from scratch. And yet, he looked at me with the same calm expression, the same unbothered patience he’d shown all these years. “No, I can manage,” I replied, rushing out. I ran out of the gate, clutching the gift in my hand as rain started to pour. It was our three-year anniversary. I’d never given him a kind word before, but realizing my feelings had started to shift, I’d wanted to finally celebrate with him. But instead, all that waited for me was divorce. I forced a laugh, letting the rain soak me. The next day, I was sick, bedridden, but I couldn’t ignore the loud arguments coming from outside. I dragged myself to the door, finding my dad sitting on the edge of a peeling brick wall, looking distraught. “I don’t want to live anymore,” he muttered. We’d ended up in a run-down apartment, but the rent was low, and that was what we needed. My mom was crying next to him, saying she’d jump too if he jumped. I tried calming them, saying, “It’s only bankruptcy, as long as we’re alive, we can recover.” My dad gave me a piercing look, the kind that sends a chill down your spine. “You could ask Adrian to help us, couldn’t you? He’s our son-in-law; he’ll help us,” he said. My mom chimed in, “Yes, yes, I’m sure he would! Even if we didn’t treat him well before, for your sake, I’m sure he’d help.” I forced a laugh; they had no idea he’d left me. I refused to ask him, but my dad practically threatened his own life. Defeated, I finally agreed. Before leaving, my mom spent our last bit of money to doll me up, putting me in a deep V-neck dress and chic heels. She even hired a stylist for my hair and makeup. Looking at myself in the mirror, I felt a wave of cynicism. I looked less like someone begging for help and more like someone looking to seduce. But I knew, deep down, that even if I showed up like this, Adrian probably wouldn’t even look twice at me now. I still couldn’t understand why he’d taken advantage of me that night at the party. Maybe he’d been drunk too, maybe he’d thought I was his “one true love.” I forced those thoughts away and braced myself to see him. I heard Adrian was at his office, so I headed straight there, while my parents waited downstairs, hopeful. Entering his office floor, I ignored the stares and mutters, keeping my head high. When I finally reached his office, I hesitated. Adrian sat in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, watching me with that same calm, piercing gaze. I twisted my fingers, feeling embarrassed but explained why I was there. His gaze turned cold, and he gave me a faint smile. “And why should I help you?” I forced a laugh. “Never mind. Forget I came.” I’d known all along he wouldn’t help us, not after how we’d treated him. How shameless could I be, thinking I had any right to ask for his help now? Turning to leave, I heard him say, “Wait. Tell me, what are you offering in return? If it’s worth my time, maybe I’ll consider.” I stopped, struggling to think of anything I could offer. This body, maybe? But that was absurd. We’d been married three years and he’d never touched me. With my head down, I mumbled, “Just… forget it.” Then he approached me, his towering height making me feel small, and he leaned in close. “Dressed like this, you could’ve saved yourself the act,” he murmured with a knowing smile. Blood drained from my face, and I wanted nothing more than to escape. But then he wrapped an arm around my waist, his smile darkening. “Three years I slept on the floor; three years of patience. So how about… you offer yourself this time?”

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After We Were Gone, the Twins Lost Their Minds Brief The Link assigned me and my sister to win over a pair of twins. She’s supposed to get the flirtatious younger brother; I’m here for the obsessive older one. It was like playing with a couple of loyal puppies, all according to plan. Until the Main Girl came back. Then the flirt grabbed my sister by her hair and dragged her to his room. And the obsessive one locked me down on his bed… Sister: “Are we leaving?” Me: “We’re leaving!” Content When Lydia said she wanted to leave this world, I thought she was joking. Back in Ridgeville, we wanted nothing more than to get as far away from that shattered family as possible. Here, we had no parents, but it meant fewer mind games, less verbal abuse, and no one around to constantly drag us down. And especially after winning over the brothers, life here had been smooth sailing. Leaving here and going back? That was the last thing I wanted to do. But Lydia was set on it. “Whether you stay or not is up to you,” she told me. “I’m calling up The Link tonight to get out of here.” “And don’t say I didn’t warn you—Cora’s back.” Cora. The Main Girl of this world. I understood why Lydia wanted to leave. She was right; Damien and Cora were bound to get tangled up again. A flicker of unease rose in my chest. That night, as I was unwinding, Asher stumbled in, reeking of booze. As he got closer, I caught the scent of something familiar on him—a strong trace of Silver Birch Cologne. Cora’s favorite. Half-drunk, he reached up to touch my face, his dark eyes glinting with that familiar, possessive gleam. “What did you do today? Did you think about me?” Since winning Asher over, he’d gotten in the habit of asking me that, like some little reassurance. If I dared say no, his eyes would immediately darken, and he’d ask if I’d found someone else to chase after. Then he’d be fierce with me, muttering that I was nothing but a liar. “You promised you loved me, that you’d never leave. But the second I look away, there you are, running off to someone else. Nixie, you’re so bad.” But if I sweet-talked him just a little, he’d calm down, gentle as ever. Asher’s shifts in mood made me feel like I could handle him, as if taming him were as easy as coaxing a kitten. But I forgot who I was dealing with—Asher Pierce, ruthless, cunning, a real predator. No one could control him easily. Well, except for his ‘Golden Girl.’ “Hmm? Thinking about someone else, Nixie?” “No.” I covered his hand, forcing myself to bear the strong scent of that cologne, my cheek brushing his palm softly. “I was thinking of you, Asher.” The words dripped with emotion, and Asher believed it, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re so good, Nixie,” he murmured in that hypnotic tone. “I should’ve made my move on you a long time ago. Wasted so much time.” I lowered my gaze, suppressing the emotions rising within. Winning Asher’s heart hadn’t been easy. At first, he looked at me with complete disinterest—his eyes saw only Cora. It wasn’t until six months ago, after Cora got together with her main love interest, that I found Asher drunk on the street and brought him home. That was when he finally started noticing me. When he found out I was here just to win him over, he went wild, begging me to stay. After I succeeded, Asher was good to me. And Damien liked my sister too. So we stayed. But now my sister was leaving. And me? I’d be next. “You’ve got puffy eyes—been crying?” My voice was a little hoarse; Asher had been rough last night, and I still hadn’t quite recovered. Lydia gave a bitter smile. “Last night, he came back drunk, reeking of perfume, with lipstick on his collar. I asked him a couple of questions, and he got all in my face, accusing me of being paranoid. The way he said it hurt. Those words were…ugly. Nora, I regret staying.” “Doesn’t matter if it’s this world or the old one—men are the same. Once they’ve got you, they stop caring.” Lydia sighed. “I’ve already arranged for The Link to get me out of here. In two weeks, I’ll be gone. What about you? Are you staying here with Asher? Or is he not much better than Damien?” I didn’t know how much of Asher’s feelings were real. Unlike Damien, he wasn’t open about his emotions. Lydia vented her anger about Damien for a while, then dragged me to Oakwood Mall with her, laughing again. “The Pierces can afford it. I’m leaving soon; why not enjoy spending his money?” “When we go back, I won’t get to live like this anymore.” “Nora, just humor me these last few days.” Lydia practically wanted to buy the whole place, grabbing anything that caught her eye. She found a bracelet and was about to try it on when someone else swooped in. “I’ll take that. Wrap it up.”

I turned toward the voice, and my eyes widened. Asher was standing there, lips pressed tightly together, his gaze dark and fixed on me. Beside him was Cora. The sales assistant hesitated, and before Lydia could say a word, I spoke up first: “Lydia was eyeing that bracelet first. Even if you want it, Miss Blake, you should wait until she decides not to buy it.” A sharp glare landed on me. Asher’s. He walked up, his towering presence full of pressure, handed his card to the sales assistant, and said with chilling calm, “Charge it. Wrap the bracelet up.” I watched, helpless, as Asher handed the bracelet to Cora. Not a single word to me the entire time. Even after he left, I was frozen in place. “Still thinking of staying here?” “Asher doesn’t seem that different from Damien,” Lydia said, a bit of amusement in her voice. I forced a smile. Guess that’s why they’re twins. That night, Asher didn’t come back. Just as I was drifting off, my phone buzzed. It was a video message from Lydia. In the video, Cora sat between the twins, Damien holding a fruit platter, Asher a glass of juice. She looked like a princess flanked by her two knights. I knew what Lydia was implying: she wanted me to leave with her. I’d been hesitating, but that scene at the mall solidified my decision. I tried summoning The Link, but it didn’t respond. The door creaked open. Asher was back. Still in the same black suit from earlier, his sharp gaze was fixed on me. “Are you mad?” He sat on the bed beside me, the cologne stronger than it had been last night. I shook my head, calmly replying, “No.” Asher scoffed, “Not mad at all? Should I call you overly tolerant, Nixie?” His expression didn’t change, but I could feel his irritation. Normally, by now, I’d have soothed him with a few soft words. But this time, I just looked at him silently. Asher’s face darkened; he yanked his tie off, sighing in frustration. “Cora’s my sister. I promised I’d always look after her. I can’t break that promise.” I nodded in understanding. Without crying or throwing a fit, I sat there silently as his frown deepened. “Nora, are you throwing a tantrum?” I swear I wasn’t. Suddenly, he grabbed my chin, forcing me to meet his eyes. The moment our gazes locked, my breath hitched. His look was cold, deadly. He was genuinely angry. His grip was fierce, painful. I tried pulling away, but his hold only tightened. “Nora, you can throw a fit, but don’t go too far. It’s unattractive.” I hadn’t gone too far. I gripped his wrist, annoyed, “Asher, let go. I’m not mad.” He released me after a moment, caressing my face with that obsessive intensity. “Nixie, you’re not going back. You only have me to rely on, so don’t push your luck, understand?” “If you’re upset, say it. Don’t hold it in—it’s bad for you.” “As for Cora, you don’t need to worry about her. You’re the only one I’ll ever have at my side.” The tenderness in his tone sent a shiver through me, a chill spreading up my spine. When Asher was angry, his silence was the most frightening. He kissed my forehead, nose, then my lips, his touch gentle, while his hands grew more demanding. I felt like I was on a roller coaster, high one moment, plummeting the next. Barely able to keep up, I clung to his wrist, my vision blurring. “Asher, I’m sorry. Not so hard.”

As Asher buried his face in my neck, he chuckled, his touch finally softening. But just a second later, his movements became rough again. I sighed; this time, he wouldn’t be so easy to appease. When it was finally over, Asher fell asleep quickly, calm as ever. But I lay awake, mind racing, repeatedly calling on The Link. Finally, that cold, mechanical voice answered. “Host, apologies for the delay.” “I want to leave this world.” I was blunt, and even The Link seemed surprised. “Host, this is a one-time opportunity, and it cannot be reversed. Are you sure you want to exit?” “Absolutely.” The second Asher said I “only had him to rely on,” I knew I couldn’t wait to get out. I’d finally seen it clearly—in his mind, I was nothing but an attachment, something he owned. The Link scheduled my exit for two weeks out. Lydia and I would be leaving one after the other. When she found out, she smiled with relief. “I’m glad you’ve come around, Nora. Once we’re back, let’s just be sisters, okay? No more fighting.” I nodded and agreed. As kids, Lydia and I fought constantly. For things as small as a test score, and as big as Dad’s attention. If we didn’t fight, we’d get hit. It wasn’t really us fighting, but our mothers who pushed us into it, each one hoping the other would disappear. But Lydia’s smile didn’t last long; her gaze shifted, turning dark as she looked over my shoulder. I turned to see Damien standing there. Same face as Asher’s, but somehow, Damien’s gaze always made my skin crawl. “Hey, Sis. Asher’s looking for you—don’t keep him waiting.” “And I need to talk with Lydia. We’ve got some things to settle.” The twins had bought neighboring apartments so that Lydia and I could see each other anytime. I glanced at Lydia, worried, but she just smiled and shook her head. “Go on, Nora. It’s late, and I need to talk with him.” I had barely shut the door when I heard glass shattering inside. I turned to rush back in, but an arm wrapped around my waist, a hand covering my mouth. “Their business is theirs. Let’s go home.” Asher brought me back. The moment we stepped inside, he pressed me against the wall, his kiss desperate and unrelenting. The strong scent of that cologne still lingered, and I pushed him away, feeling disgusted. “Go shower. You smell…filthy.” Asher froze, looking at me, stunned. “Nora, are you calling me…dirty?” I wiped my mouth, my expression hard, letting my revulsion show. “Asher, you’re coming in here smelling like someone else’s perfume, and you don’t think that’s dirty?” A tense silence filled the room. Asher’s face darkened, his eyes sharp as a hawk’s, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Then suddenly, he let out a low chuckle. “Nixie, are you jealous?” Was I? Maybe a little—otherwise, why would it bother me so much? Asher lifted my chin, his eyes glinting with amusement. “I like it, Nixie, that you’re jealous for me.” “But I told you before—you need to know your limits. You don’t get to be jealous over Cora.” His tone was tinged with warning. It sent a shiver through me. I’d seen Asher break a man’s arm without blinking, just because he’d brushed up against Cora’s arm. If I really tried to harm her, who knows what Asher would do to me. We were locked in that tense silence when a sudden banging shook the door behind us. “Nora, open the door! Help me!” I moved to open it, but Asher grabbed my hand. He leaned in, voice low and menacing. “I said, don’t get involved in their business.” “She’s my sister!” For the first time, I shouted at Asher with real anger. He blinked, momentarily surprised, and I used the chance to open the door. Lydia gasped as I pulled it open; I saw Damien gripping her hair, dragging her back to his place. Seeing me, he shot me a cold smile.

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After the third time Shawna Langley sent money to her brother without asking me, I finally gave up on trying. I quit my high-paying job and stayed home all day playing video games, living off what we had. It only took three days for Shawna to start panicking. She pointed a finger at me, demanding to know what I was doing. “What about the mortgage, the car loan, Gracie’s lessons, the household bills? None of that’s free, you know!” Oh, so she actually realized how much our life costs, huh? Then why did she keep giving away our money to her brother? Content During my lunch break, I got a call from my mom. A storm had torn through, collapsing part of the barn back at Elmwood Ranch. She asked if I could send over a couple grand to get it repaired. I said sure and opened my banking app—only to see there was just $500 left in the account. Last I checked, we had at least five grand. Now there’s only $500? I knew right away Shawna must’ve used it; she had the card. What the hell did she spend five thousand bucks on in just a few days? I called her, holding back the fury in my voice. “Shawna, where did all the money in our account go?” She hesitated, fumbling for words. I felt my gut tighten. “Did you send it to your brother again?” “My brother… needed a little extra for his car, and I just…” Her voice trailed off, barely a whisper. I rubbed my forehead, unsure what to say. We’d dated for three years and were now seven years into marriage with a six-year-old daughter, Gracie. We’d married for love, but even then, our families clashed over it. Shawna’s mother demanded a sky-high dowry, way beyond my budget. Her mother scoffed, “My daughter’s been with you for three years. Surely her youth deserves some compensation, don’t you think?” Shawna sat there, head bowed, silently letting her mother run the negotiations. Finally, we both compromised on $28,800, all of which went straight to her parents, who turned around and gave every penny to Shawna’s brother. Back then, I actually felt bad for Shawna, stuck with parents so blatantly favoring her brother. Little did I know she was just as blind to reality as they were. I pulled out another card and transferred three grand to my mom, then went to the office and put in for vacation time. With my years at the company, I’d built up twenty days of paid time off. Normally, I never took my leave—it was all cashed out as overtime pay. This year, I’d be enjoying every single one of those days. When I got home, Shawna was still busy in the kitchen, while Gracie ran over to me, shouting, “Daddy!” I scooped her up and sat with her on the couch, reading her picture books. At dinner, Shawna kept her silence until I finally announced, “I quit my job. I’m going to take it easy and stay home for a while.” Her hand froze mid-bite, and she shot me a look. “You’re kidding, right?” I stared at her calmly. “Do I look like I’m joking?” She kept eating, not saying another word. Maybe she thought I was bluffing—after all, the job paid well, sometimes pulling in ten grand a month. Why would anyone in their right mind walk away from that?

The next morning, for the first time since getting married, I slept in as long as I wanted. Normally, workdays meant early mornings, and weekends were dedicated to taking care of Gracie—no chance to catch up on sleep. Shawna was up bright and early, though. She made Gracie breakfast, dropped her off at preschool, went grocery shopping, and had dinner cooking by the time I finally woke up, hair a mess. Shawna looked startled to see me. “Why… why aren’t you at work?” Yawning, I said, “Didn’t I tell you yesterday? I quit.” Holding a spatula, she looked at me, trying to gauge if I was serious. “You’re joking, right?” she said, before turning back to her cooking. For the next few days, I slept till noon, had lunch, and spent my afternoons gaming until sunset. Once Shawna brought Gracie home from preschool, I’d come out of the study to play with her. After three days of this, as I was heading back to the study after lunch, Shawna slammed down her chopsticks. “Daryl Hayes, what exactly do you think you’re doing?” she said, glaring at me. I stayed calm. “I told you—I quit. I’m just enjoying my time at home.” “Are you even hearing yourself? Do you realize what you’re saying?” “Mortgage alone is five grand a month. Another two for the car, plus Gracie’s preschool tuition, her dance lessons—let alone all the other expenses! You just quit, and now how are we all supposed to live? Air and sunshine?” I raised an eyebrow at her, smirking. “Oh, so you do know how much our life costs, huh?” “Then why do you keep giving our money to your brother?” “How many times now have you snuck money out to help him?” I started counting on my fingers. “I think I’d need both hands to keep track.” Her jaw clenched as she realized I was mocking her. “It was just five grand, Daryl. What’s the big deal?” “It’s my brother too, Daryl! What’s wrong with helping him out?” I laughed, clapping my hands. “You’re the best sister anyone could ever ask for—a real second mom, aren’t you? When I wanted money to start a business with my buddy, you said no. But when your brother wanted a house, you transferred him thirty grand without blinking. When my mom needed surgery, you said we couldn’t afford it, yet when your brother needed wedding money, you wired him another twenty grand. And this time? The storm flattened our barn, and you went and sent him that money too! Tell me, Shawna, has he ever bought Gracie even a single toy?” Shawna said nothing, staring at me with a blank expression that slowly turned tearful. “Daryl Hayes, I can’t believe you’ve kept track of every single thing over our seven years of marriage!” Her voice cracked. “You’re actually keeping tabs, huh?” “Yes, I am. You’ve given so much to your brother; why even bother getting married? You could’ve stayed single and just paid his bills yourself!” She pointed at me, furious, then swept the plates off the table and stormed out. I didn’t chase her. Divorce had crossed my mind more than once, but I’d been holding back for Gracie’s sake. She stormed by me with her suitcase, not even glancing my way. Perfect, now I could finally breathe a little. Once I’d cleaned up the mess, I picked up Gracie from preschool, giving the teacher some excuse about “family matters.” Gracie’s face lit up when she saw me. “Daddy! You’re picking me up? Where’s Mommy?” I kissed her on the cheek. “Mommy went to visit Grandma. How about we hit the amusement park today?” She was stunned for a second, then squealed with joy. “Yay!”

Shawna never had much affection for Gracie. From the moment she knew we were having a girl, she treated her differently. When Gracie was only a couple of months old, Shawna was already pushing for a second child. I was already exhausted from work and taking care of Gracie at night—I wasn’t ready for another. When I refused, Shawna started poking holes in our, uh, “small umbrella.” She would’ve gotten away with it if I hadn’t caught her. To end that debate for good, I went to the doctor and took matters into my own hands. When Gracie was three, Shawna’s brother had a daughter, Star. From then on, it was clear Shawna favored Star over Gracie. Every time we visited, she’d be holding Star, calling her “baby” and “sweetie.” Gracie would sometimes ask me, “Daddy, does Mommy love me?” It hurt to see my little girl learning to read people’s faces at such a young age. I always assured her, “Of course, Mommy loves you most of all.” Then, when Gracie was five, and Star was two, Shawna’s brother brought his family over. Star wanted to go to the amusement park, and of course, Gracie wanted to go too. But instead of taking both girls, Shawna left Gracie home alone and went with her brother’s family. That night, Gracie clung to me, crying for what felt like forever. “Daddy, I know. Mommy doesn’t love me.” That night, I took her to the amusement park myself. We rode the carousel, the little train, the bumper cars, and had some greasy fried chicken and soda. Watching her munch happily, I wondered if my decision to stay married for her sake was a mistake. It was well past dark by the time we got home. Gracie was fast asleep in the backseat, and I carried her up to her bed. Just as I was settling down, the phone rang. Mrs. Langley was on the line. “Daryl, do you have any conscience at all? Shawna’s been crying all afternoon because of you!” “You can’t apologize? She only took five grand—don’t tell me you’re that stingy! As her husband, isn’t it your job to help her family?” The lecture went on before I’d even had a chance to speak. Eventually, she hung up, and I went to bed, only to be woken by someone banging on my door. I staggered up to open it, and before I could react, I took a slap to the face that jolted me wide awake. There she was—Mrs. Langley, eyes blazing. “Look at you, sleeping like a pig while Shawna cried herself to sleep!” she said, barging in and plopping down on the couch. Shawna followed, eyes red, looking like she’d been crying all night. “Now, you apologize to Shawna,” her mom ordered. “Apologize? Me? For what?” I laughed. Mrs. Langley’s face twisted in disbelief. “Oh, so you’re dreaming now, huh?” Before she could start swinging again, her son, Aaron, came in with his wife and little Star in tow. Great. The whole family had shown up for a lecture.

The whole Langley family sat on the couch facing me, like they were holding some kind of trial. “Hey, Big Bro Hayes, don’t you think you’re being a bit tight with the cash? It was just five grand. Call it a loan, alright?” Aaron Langley said, totally unfazed, as he picked at his nails. “Fine,” I replied, “so that’s five grand for the car, twenty grand for the wedding, and another thirty for the house—that’s already fifty-five grand. Then let’s add on the $880 for the computer you wanted. Oh, and the $180 for those shoes—sent the link to your sister for that one, didn’t you? Then there’s Star’s tutoring, the piano lessons—twenty classes at three hundred bucks each. And…” “Enough!” Mrs. Langley interrupted. “Daryl, all these little amounts, and you keep track like it’s your job! If you’re so good with numbers, why aren’t you an accountant?” “Oh, so I married myself a live-in housekeeper, huh?” I laughed. “I’m supposed to pay her a salary now, too?” And wasn’t it Shawna who decided she wanted to be a homemaker? She seemed to have forgotten that part. Our argument must have gotten loud because Gracie rubbed her eyes as she came out of her room, startled by the crowd. “Daddy?” She walked over to me, looking a bit confused. Mrs. Langley rolled her eyes. “No manners, is it? So many people in the room, and all you see is your dad. Did he tell you to ignore us?” Gracie, in her innocence, defended me. “No.” “Oh, so now you’re back-talking? Where’s your respect?” Mrs. Langley snapped. Even Shawna joined in, scolding Gracie. “Gracie, you don’t talk back to your grandmother, you hear me? She’s your elder, show some respect.” Respect? Only if the person deserves it. Gracie had never once been to her grandmother’s house, even though Shawna visited her mom’s place every holiday. She’d claimed bringing Gracie there would ruin Star’s “luck.” I used to argue with her about this ridiculous idea, but over time, I stopped bothering. Every year, Shawna would head to her mother’s, and I’d take Gracie to Elmwood Ranch. “Alright, Daryl, just apologize to my sister, and let’s put this to rest,” Aaron said, only ever calling Shawna “sister” when he wanted something. “We’re family. You don’t need to be so hung up on money. You can always make more, but blood ties? You can’t replace that.” I sighed, letting him know: “I quit my job, Aaron. So whatever money was there is just… gone.” “What? You left your job?” Aaron shot up from the couch. “Sis, why didn’t you tell me this? What about that twenty grand you promised me for the business?” His wife elbowed him hard, and Aaron bit his lip, glancing awkwardly over at Shawna. Oh, so that’s how it was. When I wanted to start a business, she told me it was too risky, that I’d probably lose everything, that I should be sensible and stable. But when it came to Aaron, she snuck behind my back to fund his venture. “Shawna,” I said, barely containing my anger, “I won’t go over this again. Pick a day, and we’ll head to City Hall and get those divorce papers signed. That way, you can do whatever you want for your brother without anyone stopping you.”

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On the third day after my death, Wren Alcott got a call to identify my remains. She was nestled against a man’s shoulder and dismissed it carelessly. “If he’s dead, he’s dead. Just cremate him and let me know.” My body was sent to the crematorium, reduced to ashes, and the staff called her again. She sounded annoyed. “Got it. I’ll be there soon.” …… Content By the time Wren arrived, it was two hours later. Strands of her hair were tangled around her face, a clear sign that she’d just left someone’s bed. Spotting the staff member, she sneered, “Asher Voss’s ashes, right? Aren’t I supposed to pick them up?” Once they confirmed her identity, they handed her the box containing my remains. Wren accepted it, her eyes filled with scorn. “So, these are really Asher’s ashes? You didn’t just fill it with some stray cat’s ashes to trick me, did you?” The staff member, shocked, replied, “Miss Alcott, these are indeed Mr. Voss’s remains. We have a record. Would you like to see it?” She chuckled softly. “No, I believe you.” I felt an odd sense of relief. Even though I was dead, my spirit lingered here. I figured it was because I hadn’t been laid to rest. Now that Wren accepted I was gone, perhaps out of a slight sense of duty, she would eventually bury me. But before I could feel any comfort, Wren gasped. The box slipped from her hands, scattering my ashes onto the ground. She laughed cruelly. “Oops, my hand slipped.” With that, she ground her high heel into my remains, twisting it with vicious delight. I could barely breathe, staring at her smug expression. I opened my mouth but couldn’t utter a sound. My ashes disappeared into the floor, blending with dust. Satisfied, Wren stepped back, ignoring the horrified staff as she said, “Remember to tell Asher—mind games don’t work on me.” “And in a few days, it’s my mother’s Remembrance Day. He’d better come crawling to her grave and beg forgiveness. Otherwise, even if he’s dead, I won’t hesitate to dig him up and desecrate his body.” Her words sent a chill through the room. But I knew she’d do it if it came to that. Suddenly, I felt lucky my body had already been cremated. Otherwise, I could only imagine the humiliation she’d put me through. Before the staff could argue, Wren got a call and left. Strangely, my spirit seemed tethered to her, following as she went. I ended up sitting in the passenger seat, listening as she chatted with the man on the other end. The voice was familiar. Graham Hale, the Alcott family’s ward. Back when Wren and I were still together, he’d confronted me and demanded I leave her. When I refused, he launched a smear campaign against me, sending people to harass me. Wren found out and had someone teach him a painful lesson, warning she’d kick him out of the house if he ever messed with me again. Graham behaved himself after that. When my name came up, Wren’s expression turned cold. “Why even mention him? Bad luck—he’s not really dead, after all.” “But if he were?” Graham’s voice was probing, his tone cautious. A chill ran through me, and I turned instinctively to look at Wren. The old Wren wouldn’t have cared if I’d died. A scratch on my hand would have been enough to bring her to tears. She once said I was her one true love, that she’d never love anyone else. Now, Wren laughed icily. “If he really were dead? I’d throw a three-day party and light up the city with fireworks.”

I stared, stunned. Only now did I realize the depths of her hatred. She’d celebrate my death as if it were a holiday. But Wren, I am dead. You just don’t believe it yet. The car stopped outside a bridal boutique, and Wren stepped out, her heels clicking against the pavement. She hurried inside, almost twisting her ankle. I thought back to the day we secretly got our marriage license, and she dragged me into a boutique like this. She couldn’t wait to try on a wedding dress and show me. Back then, she’d smiled with pure happiness, saying she was the world’s luckiest bride, and I was her dashing groom. Now, that same smile graced her face as she stood beside Graham Hale, who was dressed in a white suit. They looked perfect together, a flawless couple. “Beautiful,” Graham murmured, a hint of admiration in his voice. “I finally have you, Wren,” he whispered, eyes brimming with adoration. I watched, frozen, as Graham leaned in to kiss her. I wanted to stop it, but my hand went straight through Wren’s shoulder. I could only watch helplessly as he slipped a ring onto her finger. How could this happen? Why Graham? He was the one who caused her mother’s death! Wren! My mouth opened, but only a raspy whisper escaped. I felt a hollow ache, standing numb as Graham gently touched Wren’s cheek. “By the way, Wren—he’s really gone, isn’t he?” He didn’t need to clarify who he meant. We both knew. Her face was expressionless, almost irritated. “Why would he be a problem? It’s all just an act,” she replied dismissively. “And for our wedding, should we invite him?” Her lashes lowered, veiling her emotions. Suddenly, she smiled, a twisted grin. “Of course. He’s an important guest.” Realization struck me—Wren wanted me to witness her wedding. The wedding I’d always dreamed of having with her. We had only gotten our license back then because we couldn’t get Miriam Alcott’s blessing for a full ceremony. The wedding became something I longed for but never had. Miriam passed soon after, dying of a heart attack that night. Her last call had been to me. Wren had blamed me for “driving her to her grave.” At her funeral, Wren forced me to kneel by the graveside all night, through a downpour. Her eyes, hollow and filled with loathing, had fixed on me. “Asher Voss, from now on, it’s you and me, life and death.” That was when I stopped being her lover and became her enemy. She tormented me relentlessly, wouldn’t let me go, and even brought other men home. Watching my eyes burn, she would laugh, patting my face mockingly. “Asher, does it hurt? But isn’t this your fault? Who else can you blame?” Every attempt to explain only made her torment me more. She never doubted her conclusions because she knew her mother despised me. Miriam had even declared I’d never set foot in the Alcott household. Wren had fought Miriam on this, severing ties with the family for my sake. But now, the man she adored was the one responsible for her mother’s death. How could she bear it? After Graham left, it was as though Wren remembered me. She graciously took me off her blocklist, tapping the steering wheel while dialing my number. I watched as her calm expression shifted, her brows gradually knitting together. She struck the wheel in frustration. “Asher, if you don’t answer this call, you’re dead meat.” What she didn’t know was that I wasn’t ignoring her calls. I simply couldn’t answer anymore.

Two weeks later, Wren finally returned to Riverside Manor. She stormed through the front door, heels pounding against the floor. “Asher, get out here!” She threw open door after door, searching every room without finding me. Her expression grew darker with each empty space. She ordered her people to find me, muttering, “Asher, if you’re running, you’d better be far away. Because if I catch you, I’ll break your legs.” The man she wanted to punish, though, stood right in front of her. After a while, her phone beeped with a location update. Her face twisted with a frightening intensity. Curious, I looked and saw the address—Cora Dane’s place. “Ms. Alcott, Mr. Voss’s last call was to Ms. Dane. She claims she hasn’t seen him, but we suspect she’s holding him against his will.” Wren sneered. “Against his will? Sounds more like he’s there by choice. I’m on my way.” Wren sped to Cora’s place, her face set in a stormy glare. She pounded on the door—one, two, three times before it finally opened. Cora appeared, her face impassive, dark circles under her eyes. “What do you want?” Wren scoffed, “You’re hiding my husband, and you think I don’t have a reason to be here?” Cora remained emotionless, as though she’d lost all care for the world. “He’s not here. He’s dead. Didn’t the crematorium call you to pick up his remains?” “Oh, you’re helping him play another game? Asher’s really going all out to avoid me this time.” Wren refused to believe I was dead, convinced it was one of my tricks. She looked over Cora’s shoulder, calling out, “Asher, hiding behind a woman? How manly. I’ll count to three. If you don’t show yourself, don’t blame me for what I’ll do.” Three, two, one. Then, Wren shoved Cora, ordering her men to search the house. Cora cried out in pain as she fell, a flash of anger crossing her calm face. “Wren, Asher is dead. You picked up his ashes. Don’t you remember?” “He’s dead. Dead for days now.” Cora, trembling with fury, grabbed Wren by the collar and pushed her against the wall. Wren’s voice was mocking. “You’re still hiding him? You must really be infatuated with Asher, Cora. Too bad he loves me. Maybe when I’m done with him, if you still want him, I could hand him over to you.” “But not yet. He still owes my mother at her grave. He can’t keep you company yet.” Cora’s face flushed with anger, clenching Wren’s collar. “Wren Alcott, you’re a monster.” She slapped Wren hard across the face, leaving Wren stunned. The two of them fell into a vicious fight. My heart pounded, helplessly watching as they struggled. For all her training in Mixed Martial Arts, Wren had Cora pinned down quickly, leaving Cora bruised and battered. I could only watch in anguish, unable to do anything. “Look at you, Cora. Nearly beaten to death over Asher, while he happily hides behind your protection. A weak man like that—is he really worth it?” Cora scoffed, her voice dripping with scorn. “Wren, the real pathetic one is you. Mistaking your mother’s killer for someone loyal to you. Hurting the one who truly cares about you. You live like a stray dog.” “What did you just say?” Wren’s hand rose to strike when someone burst in. “Ms. Alcott, we found the footage from Mr. Voss’s accident. And… his autopsy report.”

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Chase and Marla had twins, and their bias toward their son meant they left their daughter Harmony completely neglected. In my past life, Mom couldn’t bear seeing Harmony burning with fever and passed out, so she brought her over to me, saying, “You make good money, and since you don’t plan to marry, take her in.” Pitying my niece, I agreed to raise her as my own. Despite pouring all my resources and energy into her, when she grew up, she aired her grievances online, saying I was controlling, that my love was suffocating, and that I wouldn’t even let her stay over at a friend’s house. Egged on by strangers, she rebelled and ran away to a friend’s place, where her friend’s brother assaulted her. When I wanted to report it, she cried and said it would ruin her reputation, and she cut ties with me to stay with her abuser. After they married, she was abused by him and mistreated by her mother-in-law. Over time, she became resentful and convinced him to kill me. He went to prison, and she finally had her freedom—lavishly living off my inheritance. Now, with a new chance at life, I won’t make those same mistakes. My heart has hardened; I’ll live solely for myself. Content

“Quinn, your niece has a terrible fever—she’s burning up! Come back and help me take her to the hospital!” Hearing my mom’s words, just as in my past life, I knew I’d been reborn. I vividly remembered my future niece, Harmony, standing there, watching her violent husband stab me over and over. I’d always been terrified of pain, but even so, I was covered in wounds, blood everywhere, the pain unbearable, and the biting chill seeped to my bones. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my tone and responded as calmly as possible, “Mom, if Harmony’s that sick, where are Chase and Marla?” “Your brother’s at work, and his job isn’t flexible. Marla’s with Tyler and can’t leave him.” I wasn’t the least bit surprised by this. My brother and his wife, with their favoritism, had never given their daughter a thought. In my past life, when my mother had called me in distress, I’d left work immediately, driven back to Pinegrove County, and rushed my niece to the hospital. I stayed days to care for her as she recovered. When Harmony was discharged, the doctor told us, “If you’d brought her any later, the fever might’ve caused brain damage. You were lucky to get her here in time.” Thinking about how Harmony eventually repaid me for raising her… This time, I wouldn’t get involved.

“Mom, I’m out of town on a work trip. I can’t get back quickly, so you should call Chase and have him take her to the hospital.” My response left Mom frantic. She ignored my suggestion about calling my brother and instead asked, “Well, how soon can you come home?” I already knew Mom had a strong preference for my brother, but I never thought she’d prioritize his $3,000-a-month job over her granddaughter’s urgent medical needs. And now, she expected me to drop my own work trip to get back? I held back my frustration and replied, “Mom, I’m far away on this trip, and flights are full. It’d take me eleven hours by train, and then three more hours of driving just to get to the county. Besides, this trip is important, and if I leave now, I might lose my job. And then I wouldn’t have any money left to help with your living expenses.” Hearing that my delay could affect her monthly allowance, Mom finally dropped the idea of me taking Harmony to the hospital. “Fine, I’ll wait until your brother gets off work, and we’ll take her together. But when you’re done with work, come visit your niece.” I agreed and hung up, feeling icy inside. In my mom’s eyes, “looking after Harmony” meant using the poor child as an excuse to drop the three-year-old on me, claiming, “You have a good salary; you can afford a nanny. Since you aren’t getting married, treat her as your own daughter—at least you’ll have someone to care for you when you’re old.” Years ago, I did tell my family I didn’t plan on marriage. When I was nineteen, they’d pushed for an arranged match, but I knew marriage would mean a life revolving around a man and children, losing myself in the process. So I told them I wasn’t interested and would focus on my career. Initially, Mom resisted, but when she realized marriage would end my financial support to her, she stopped pressuring me. In hindsight, Mom’s kindness over the years was purely because I still had financial value. She never cared about me otherwise, or she wouldn’t have dumped her “burden” of a granddaughter on me. Later, when I was thirty and considered dating, she convinced me to think of Harmony’s feelings. Harmony, looking so pitiful, had pleaded with me not to “leave her behind.” I’d felt for her, and, not being one for romantic ties, I never married. I raised Harmony like my own daughter, yet ultimately, she took my life.

After hanging up with Mom, I requested a work trip and left immediately, returning only a week later. During that time, Mom called me repeatedly, stressing Harmony’s critical condition. Each time, I’d ask, “Where are Chase and Marla?” Her parents couldn’t be bothered to tend to their sick daughter, so why should I, the aunt, bear the burden? Mom would cover for my brother, saying, “Your brother’s job doesn’t allow time off, and Marla’s busy with Tyler.” I’d excuse myself, claiming meetings, and hang up.

After a week in the hospital, Harmony was discharged with mild meningitis, likely from the prolonged fever. The doctor said her brain might have suffered some cognitive impact, but only time would tell. After returning from my trip, I made a brief stop in Pinegrove County, bringing fruit and milk for her. Before I left, I handed Marla a cash envelope in front of my mom and brother, maintaining a polite and generous demeanor. I stayed just long enough to avoid any complaints, leaving before Mom could ask about adopting Harmony. Three days later, Mom called again, saying she’d bring Harmony to Brookdale City for a visit over the weekend. I knew what was coming and had a plan.

It was a beautiful spring weekend when I picked up Mom and Harmony from Pinegrove Central Station. Growing up neglected, Harmony had become timid and overly sensitive; after her illness, she seemed even more withdrawn. Since Mom rarely visited, I made sure to play the role of a gracious host, taking them to a nice restaurant and booking a hotel for the night. Mom had wanted to stay at my apartment, but I politely declined, saying I only had one bed. After working for six years, I’d saved enough to buy a small one-bedroom apartment in Brookdale outright, and I never told my family about it until long after moving in. I knew that once Mom found out I’d saved for a house, she’d find ways to drain my funds, saying it was “for safekeeping.” But that “safekeeping” would ultimately go to Chase, so I pretended I’d only been able to afford a “mortgaged” apartment.

After two days of hosting, as I prepared to take Mom and Harmony back to Pinegrove County, Mom finally spoke up. “Quinn, Marla can’t manage two kids on her own, and it’s pitiful that Harmony was left uncared for with that fever…” I interrupted, “Mom, isn’t Harmony staying with you?” “Come on, as her grandma, I’ll do my part, but why can’t you help Marla out by looking after her?” Mom scoffed, “That’s impossible!” Realizing her response was too blunt, she quickly softened her tone. “My age is catching up with me, Quinn. I can help for now, but soon my back and legs will give me trouble. Harmony would do better in the city with you; you make good money, and she’s had it rough in the county.” She considered everyone’s needs but my own. I shook my head. “Mom, you can’t look after her, and I have a full-time job.” “Well, you can afford a nanny, can’t you? If Harmony lives with you, you can treat her as your own daughter. Besides, since you aren’t getting married, she’ll be there for you as you age.” I bit back a laugh, her suggestion too ironic. In my past life, following her words had led me to my death. I interrupted her, “Mom, just because I’m not planning to marry doesn’t mean I don’t want a family.” She looked at me, puzzled. “I’m not getting any younger,” I continued, “and last month, I went through with IVF. In a few months, I’ll have my own child, so I don’t need someone else’s to take care of me.” It was like I’d dropped a bomb, leaving her visibly shaken. After a moment of stunned silence, she stammered, “Something this big…why wouldn’t you discuss it with us?” Discuss? If I’d told them, they would’ve fought it every step of the way. My family didn’t see me as a person; to them, I was a tool. Ignoring her shock, I stated firmly, “Mom, I’ll soon have my own child. Don’t bring up adopting Harmony again.”

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At the start of my freshman year, my new roommate, Tiffany Malone, snuck onto my phone, took a selfie, and sent it to my online boyfriend. She even added a caption: “Babe, don’t I look gorgeous?” Mason, my boyfriend, sent back a huge question mark and followed it up with a voice message, cursing: “If I ever thought I was in love with that face, it’d make me wanna puke! We’re done, you ugly witch. Get lost!” When I came out of the shower, ready to explain, I found I’d already been blocked. Then Tiffany, holding her phone, smugly told me, “A MuseHub streamer added me! He said he wants to be my boyfriend.” One glance at the account, and I realized it was my ex-boyfriend Mason. Content When I finished my shower, I grabbed my phone off the desk. Opening it, I saw a stream of furious texts from Mason, followed by his breaking up with me. Scrolling up, I saw Tiffany’s hideous selfie. It was stomach-turning. Her huge, greasy face gleamed with a layer of oil, dotted with pimples. When she smiled, her yellow teeth still had chili pepper bits stuck in them. I almost dropped my phone. Trying to explain it wasn’t me, I realized I was already blocked. I snapped at Tiffany, “Why would you even touch my phone without asking? And who told you to send those pictures?” Tiffany rolled her eyes and replied impatiently, “With that plain face, how do you expect to hold onto any guy? I was just helping you out by lending my beauty!” I was speechless. Me, plain? Back in high school, my looks at least got me into the top-ten list on local rankings. Tiffany didn’t always look like this; since she started streaming on MuseHub, she’d played into her audience’s fascination with the grotesque, gradually transforming herself. Ironically, her fans praised her as a “real beauty” in her MuseHub channel. I thought about explaining things to Mason. Even though it was an online relationship, I actually knew who he was. His name was Mason Rivers, a junior at East Ridge Tech, a popular singer on MuseHub with an incredible voice. I came to this city for him. One night after he uploaded a song, he messaged me, saying he loved my voice. We ended up chatting all night. When he realized I was at a nearby school, we made things official the next day. I’d planned to surprise him at this month’s National College Music Fest. Instead, I’d been blocked. I felt crushed, but then Tiffany suddenly squealed, “My dream guy just added me! He said he wants me to be his girlfriend!” Curious, I glanced at her phone. Sure enough, it was Mason’s account. Tiffany didn’t have any photos on MuseHub, just a few of her songs. Her voice was sugary-sweet, completely different from my cool, neutral tone. I was stunned. Mason dumped me and found someone else immediately? Unbelievable. And Mason was in for a surprise, seeing as he’d managed to find the “beauty” from the pictures.

Tiffany stripped off her clothes, her body jiggling everywhere. I thought she was heading to the shower, but she just put on pajamas and walked out, stuffing her underwear under her pillow. I was speechless. I knew she’d head to the hallways to sing with her fake voice. Sure enough, she returned soon, giggling and asking Mason in her sweet tone, “Did I sound good, babe?” Mason’s breathing was heavy. “Baby, your voice is so sweet. It has this… special effect on me. I want to listen to it every night.” I felt like I’d been hit with something vile as they exchanged mushy goodbyes. Tiffany sighed, “Too bad he doesn’t know I’m a famous streamer, too. But come music fest, he’ll get a surprise!” I could hardly wait to see Mason’s reaction when that surprise arrived. Tiffany then started her nightly livestream. Ironically, I was scrolling through my phone in a face mask and accidentally stumbled across it. In her MuseHub channel, Tiffany was wearing black lace tights, and her belly rolls spilled over them like layers. Her skin was dull and blotchy, and I couldn’t remember the last time she took a shower. She twisted around, using a voice modulator to sound more mature. “Oh, boys, it’s so hot tonight. I’m here for you even when it’s this hot.” “You guys have to give me a Top Diamond Gift tonight, or I won’t perform.” The room was packed, and sure enough, a message popped up: “Streamer’s location is only six miles from me!” The profile picture was an anime character, and the bio listed East Ridge Tech—the same school as Mason’s. Disgusted, I closed the video, but later, I noticed a new post on MuseHub with two screenshots of Tiffany’s stream: “Loves playing around with a voice modulator. Given the location, I bet she’s from Starlight Conservatory.”

Mason had liked and commented on the post, thinking it was me in the screenshots. “Heads-up, everyone. Don’t get fooled by this ugly chick. She’s got a MuseHub account too.” Other replies flooded in: “Gross!” “Just seeing that makes me lose my appetite.” “Thanks for the warning.” Mason even messaged me: “Don’t let me see you at the music fest, or there’ll be trouble.” I blocked Mason in return, laughing coldly as I watched Tiffany putting on her “sweet girl” act for her viewers, kicking out anyone who called her out. She was convinced she was a special kind of beauty. Suddenly, her “top fan” Blake “Big Al” Morrison entered her channel. “Sweetheart, crawl around like a bear, and I’ll send you five True Love Roses.” Tiffany’s eyes sparkled, and she started crawling on all fours. Her rolls of flesh strained her tights, and her tattoos stretched across her back. She was panting when she finished, but her top fan rewarded her with a Grand Carnival gift and promised, “I’ll be back every night at ten for a new performance.” Tiffany beamed and thanked him as she ended the stream. Today, she’d made a killing. With pride, she said, “Not like some people here who still live off family money.” I couldn’t resist asking, “You really think you’re beautiful?” Tiffany scoffed, “You think dried-up twigs like you are real women? Look at this,” she said, pointing to her chest. “I don’t have to try, and look at that figure. These guys are obsessed with me, or they wouldn’t camp out every night.” I just closed my eyes, hoping not to have nightmares.

The next morning, I was rushing to my 8 a.m. class, while Tiffany was sprawled out on her bed. I hesitated, then told her, “You’ve got class this morning. You should get up.” Tiffany groaned, turning to face the wall and muttered, “Just tell them I’m sick.” I glanced at the clock, deciding not to push it. She’d barely shown up to any classes since the term began. In the lecture hall, Emma Sanders asked, “Riley, are you signing up for the music fest? They say East Ridge Tech has a lot of cute guys participating.” I nodded. I wasn’t doing it for the guys—I loved singing and wouldn’t miss the chance to perform. Emma asked if I’d picked a song, and I told her, “I’m still deciding.” I had chosen a song to perform for Mason, but now I had to pick something else. Logging onto MuseHub, I was bombarded with 99+ messages. One comment, from an unfamiliar account, read: “You ugly skank, think you can just block me? Watch me expose your account and get you booted from MuseHub!” It was Mason’s backup account. I scrolled through my old uploads, where a swarm of hateful comments had appeared. “Just a fugly girl fishing for guys—does it make you sick?” “I thought that voice belonged to a beauty, but it’s a fat slob. I could puke.” I unblocked Mason and saw his new post: “Watch out for this chick’s account. She posted pics and harassed me. If she shows up at the music fest, let’s teach her a lesson.” Too embarrassed to admit we’d dated, Mason lied and said I was harassing him. His fan club raided my comments. Any attempt to explain was drowned out with insults: “Stop harassing my idol!” “Go away!” More and more people warned me not to show up at the music fest. Furious, I deleted the app.

After a long day, I returned to the dorm, only to be hit with a horrid smell. Trash was scattered everywhere. Looking up, I was stunned to find Tiffany, fully naked, putting on makeup at the desk. My temper flared. “Why are you sitting there with no clothes? And this trash! You’re not going to clean it up?” Tiffany shrugged, still using her baby voice. “Why so loud? I was just about to clean it up.” From her phone, I heard Mason’s voice: “Who’s that? That voice sounds familiar.” Tiffany quickly whined, “Oh, it’s just my roommate, Riley. She’s always bullying me.” Mason hesitated. “Riley? Is that her name?” Tiffany slammed the desk, snapping, “Why are you calling her by name like that?” Mason stammered, “No, babe. My roommate told me there’s this ugly girl at your school named Riley. I even saw a photo—she’s hideous! You’d better steer clear.” Tiffany finally calmed down, replying, “Yeah, she’s not cute at all.” Mason chuckled, “And does this ugly girl know you’re calling me with no clothes on? She’d probably be jealous if she saw how hot you look.” Tiffany laughed, dismissing the thought. “Yeah, she’s probably jealous of me, but I can’t help that.” Mason’s voice turned shaky with excitement: “Baby, could you send me a picture?” Tiffany giggled, “You’re so bad! Don’t worry, I’ll have a huge surprise for you at the music fest.”

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On the day Leigh’s first love returned to the States, I set fire to our home. I left with nothing but the twin kids she’d given me. When she was gravely ill and needed a kidney, I didn’t hesitate to donate mine. Yet she believed I had done it all to marry her, blaming me for breaking up her romance with her first love. Now I’ve finally given up, faked my death, and left for good. But when she heard of my supposed death, she completely fell apart. Content ### Chapter 1 The Harvest Moon Festival is a day for family reunions and, for us, it’s also the kids’ birthday. After they begged Leigh over and over, she finally agreed to come home for once. She’d casually mentioned wanting a home-cooked meal, so despite being feverish, I pushed through and made a full spread of dishes. The food is long cold now, and the kids are still up, holding onto their cake, refusing to go to sleep. Leigh still hasn’t shown. My head is swimming, and after popping a handful of painkillers, I step outside. I know where she is. Whenever she’s restless, she always goes to her girlfriends to vent. I find her at The Estate; soft lights glow from the yard where she’s clinking glasses with her friends. “So Chase Maddox is back in town,” one of them says, laughing. “What’s your plan for Max Caldwell—the one you brought in to help your family—and those twins of yours?” I reach up to knock but freeze mid-air, my hand stopping in midair as I hear Leigh’s response. “I’ll divorce him. He can take the kids. No need to make Chase uncomfortable.” Her answer is cold, decisive, and just as I expected. After all, if it hadn’t been for Gramps Dawson pushing her to marry me on his deathbed, Chase would have never left for Europe. She used his departure as her own protest, vanishing on our wedding day and turning me into the town’s biggest joke. After a year of marriage without seeing each other, we had one impulsive night that ended with her pregnant with the twins. As soon as they were born, Leigh had the nurse take them away without a second look. To her, they were proof of her betrayal of the one she truly loved. When she promised to come home for the kids’ birthday, I thought maybe she was finally softening. But as silence settled over the night, one of her friends spoke up. “Honestly, your husband’s been good to you. Even after his family went bankrupt, he helped get your company off the ground, drinking with clients until he had stomach ulcers. All to see you succeed.” “Please,” another friend snorted. “Without him, Leigh would’ve done fine on her own. If he hadn’t butted in and donated that kidney, her grandpa wouldn’t have forced her to marry him. Chase and Leigh could’ve been together all these years.” “He’s nothing but a freeloader who thinks he’s still some kind of big shot. Just dump him already.” Hearing that, I felt my heart clench as Leigh spoke again, cool and dismissive. “Let’s drop the subject. Cheers.” Another friend gave a sly smile and teased, “Max Caldwell is handsome, I’ll give him that. And if you don’t want him anymore, why not let us sample what he’s got to offer?” “Just treat him like a model on demand!” Amid the laughter, Leigh silently raised her glass, downing her champagne in one go. ### Chapter 2 My life has rarely gone as planned. It veers off course, drifting in and out of freezing snowstorms. I first met Leigh Dawson at a Charity Gala held by my family’s foundation. Back then, I was still the Caldwell Heir, and she was just a young startup owner who had used a friend’s ticket to get in. Among the auction items that night was one of my own paintings. People were offering high bids, hoping for a way into the Caldwell circle. But tucked in a quiet corner was one girl completely absorbed in my painting. The piece, called Mother, was my proudest work. A tear fell from her eye as she gazed at it, unaware that I was watching her. When she finally noticed me, she took a few steps back, looking at me timidly. “You’re very talented, Mr. Caldwell. But I can’t afford it,” she said softly. It was like a gentle breeze touched my heart, setting it racing. Later, I learned that Leigh had lost her parents young and had been raised by her grandfather. She’d been deeply moved by my painting. I gifted it to her that night, beginning six years of unrequited love. Leigh was always composed, distant, never fully rejecting me but never reciprocating. And so, I kept trying to win her over, connecting her to resources and watching her company grow. But then the Caldwell empire crumbled, leaving me as the sole survivor. Physically alive, but that was all. Despite Aunt Caroline’s protests, I donated my kidney to Leigh. The complications nearly killed me, and I had to abandon my art. Gramps Dawson knew the debt his family owed me, and on his deathbed, he forced Leigh to marry me. Reluctantly, she agreed—with the condition that I’d move into her household. Only after we were married did I learn that her heart belonged to her first love. Her “husband” would always be someone else. That year, at the Harvest Moon Festival, Leigh came home drunk for the first time. I’d only meant to help her to bed, but she clung to me, her hands wandering over my body. “Kiss me,” she whispered. One impulsive act, one monumental mistake. When I woke up, she slapped me across the face, her eyes full of tears. “Marrying me wasn’t enough? You had to go and do something so low?” I should’ve left then. ### Chapter 3 Exhausted, I returned to The Estate, the prison of my marriage to Leigh. Sure enough, the kids were still up. They ran to me, clinging to my leg. “Daddy, is Mom back too?” They ran to the door, only to turn around disappointed, heads hanging. Piper’s face reddened, and he burst into tears. “Mommy doesn’t want us, does she?” My heart clenched painfully. I knelt down and hugged them. “I want you both. Will you come with me?” I couldn’t tell them that, to Leigh, they were just obstacles on her road to happiness. Arlo, ever the little grown-up, patted my shoulder. “Don’t worry, Daddy. Wherever you go, we’ll go too.” I finally got them to sleep and stumbled into the bathroom, letting the shower drown out my sobs. Becoming their father hadn’t brought them a moment of happiness. Leigh had wanted to abort them as soon as she found out, only stopping when the doctor told her she’d never be able to have children again. She still dreamed of having kids with Chase. When the twins were born, she refused to even look at them, calling them disgusting. I raised them on my own, becoming both father and mother. Outside, she denied their existence. If they tried to call her “Mom,” she’d scold them as if they were strangers. Leaving is freedom for all of us. But maybe, out of guilt, Leigh remembered her promise to the kids. Late that night, she came back. I was packing when I heard her cold voice behind me. “What are you doing?” I turned and saw her staring at me with an unusual look in her slightly tipsy eyes. “Can’t sleep. Just cleaning up a bit,” I replied, trying to stay calm. A gust of cool night air blew in, cooling my fevered skin as Leigh stumbled into my arms, almost pleading. “Stay with me, Chase,” she whispered. She was so drunk she mistook me for him. Before I could pull away, she kissed me, her hands tugging impatiently at my shirt buttons, hungry and forceful. The mocking laughter of her friends echoed in my ears. “Just treat him like a model on demand!” ### Chapter 4 Humiliation and pain surged through me. I couldn’t take it anymore. I pushed her away. “If you love Chase so much, you shouldn’t have married me. Why put us both through this misery?” “I may love you, but I’m still a man with dignity.” Leigh’s gaze cleared, resentment darkening her eyes. I ignored her, continuing to pack my things. She grabbed my wrist and, noticing my feverish skin, scolded me, “Can’t you even take care of yourself?” She tried to check my temperature, but I shook her off. “You came looking for me. What did you hear?” I’d reached my breaking point and couldn’t hold back anymore. “You think Chase left because of our marriage? He left because he was afraid you’d make him donate his kidney!” “How dare you insult him!” she spat, throwing a glass at me. I didn’t dodge. It hit my forehead, shattering into pieces and drawing blood. To her, I was just a vessel for all her anger—smashable and replaceable. My blood blurred my vision, and for a moment, I thought I saw her reach out in concern, only to pull her hand back. She stood there, cold and unfeeling. “I came back like you wanted. Now leave me alone.” Her heels clicked away into the night, taking with them what little remained of my heart. The next morning, she had her assistant drop off birthday presents for Piper and Arlo. The kids left them at the door, unimpressed. Piper scoffed, “It’s not even my birthday today. What’s the point?” Arlo, indignant, declared, “We used to want her back for Daddy’s sake. Now that Daddy doesn’t want her, neither do we.” Even at barely two years old, they were already heartbreakingly mature, wise beyond their years. “Daddy,” Arlo asked in his soft little voice, “where are we going to go?” I ruffled his hair, replying, “Back to Gramma’s Place.” The Caldwell estate was long sold; all I had left was Gramma’s old home. Mom had tried many times to bring her to the city, but Gramma had refused to leave her small town, so I’d spent many summers there, keeping her company. “There’s no amusement park there, no skyscrapers. Just birds, flowers, streams, and bridges.” The kids hugged me tightly, cutting off my words. “With Daddy, anywhere’s the best place.” ### Chapter 5 Leigh and I have both been busy lately. She’s preparing for Chase’s return, and I’m planning to leave with the kids. She’s always had the upper hand, so if I want to leave, I need to be prepared. Even though the kids say they don’t want her, I can tell they’re still looking wistfully at her picture the night before we leave. I hesitate before finally calling her. She picks up, her tone as impatient as ever. “What do you want?” “The kids want to see you one last time. Are you going to come back?” I wonder if she’ll return for this final moment together. But then I hear Chase’s voice. “Leigh, if you’re too busy, I’ll just head back to the States. Apparently, I don’t matter much.” Chase’s tone is careless, but Leigh jumps to reassure him. “You matter, Chase. He’s nothing.” Then the line goes dead. It feels pointless, even asking for a farewell. The painting I once gave her still hangs above her bed, and I remember that tear of hers the day she first saw it. I light a match and let the flames consume it. Our marriage started with that painting, and it’ll end with it too. The fire spreads quickly, racing up the walls, devouring the room. With the kids in tow, I walk away, not looking back. Leigh, I’m giving you the freedom you wanted. The fire roars with intensity, burning everything to ash. I take the kids and return to Gramma’s Place, now in a small tourist town where visitors often wander by. After she passed, the house remained unchanged, gathering dust. Wiping it away, I can almost see her handing me a big slice of watermelon, her smile wrinkling at the edges as she teased me for eating like a messy kitten. With the kids, I find peace. Together, we clean up the overgrown yard, working side by side, and I make plans to open a little craft shop selling souvenirs for the tourists. News breaks of the Dawson Estate going up in flames, with reports that Leigh Dawson’s husband and twins are believed to have perished in the fire. But that night, Leigh is in a hotel room with Chase, who laughs and says he’s off to the drugstore to pick up some “essentials” for the night. She knows exactly what he means. ### Chapter 6 After Chase leaves, Leigh places a hand over her chest, surprised at how calm she feels. There’s no thrill, no flutter. So, when Chase comes back and makes his move, she finds herself instinctively pulling away. “Sorry, work emergency—I need to go.” She rushes out, feeling a strange unease she can’t quite understand. That night with Max hadn’t been the alcohol-fueled blur she pretended it was. She’d known exactly who she was with, drawn to him in a way she couldn’t explain. Her regret made it easier to blame him, anyway. Max always took it. When news of the fire reached her, Leigh froze. For just a moment, guilt slipped into her mind, and she wondered if, by coming home that night, things might have turned out differently. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came. She assured herself that it was all a ploy, just another of Max’s pathetic schemes to win her sympathy. “Really, what’s he up to this time?” She couldn’t hide the disdain in her voice. Then her assistant handed her the recovered items from the fire—a blackened wedding ring and two half-charred presents. The ring was all Max had held onto from their marriage, something he’d always kept with him. The kids’ gifts hadn’t even been unwrapped before the fire consumed them. “They believe the fire started in the bedroom. It seems like he locked himself in from the inside. No one could’ve escaped that fire.” Leigh stumbled, gripping the table. “So, you’re saying he chose to stay? That he’d rather die there with the kids than escape?”

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Nina Harlow doesn’t seem very good at math. When we split a buy-one-get-one-free milk tea, she said the “free” one was hers, and I had to pay for mine. When she got sudden food poisoning in the middle of the night, I took her to Crestview Medical Center, but she insisted, “I didn’t want to come here. I just needed some basic stomach relief pills for three dollars. You’re the one who insisted on the hospital, so you can cover the rideshare. I’ll pitch in a dollar fifty for the meds.” Since her family’s in bad shape, we all tried to be understanding. Then, she started dating a guy as obsessed with splitting every bill as she was. One day she asked him how many pieces she could eat from a box of Swiss Rolls. His reply? “Baby, you can have as many as you’re willing to pay for.” I advised her to look carefully at who she was dating, but she accused me of jealousy and shoved me down the dorm stairs to my death. The other two roommates, who each got a grad school recommendation, kept quiet. Now that I’m back for another round, I’ll make sure they stay roped in, so they can see how hard it is to split costs without me acting as their “walking wallet.” Content

When I saw the online menu for Ivy’s Brew House, it hit me: I really had been reborn. Last time, Nina jumped at the buy-one-get-one-free deal and asked to split milk tea with me. She looked so eager I agreed. But when she came back with the drinks, she said, “Mine was free, so yours is $5.” I couldn’t believe my ears, but she doubled down. “Oh, right—you also owe me two bucks for grabbing it for you.” I wanted to say something, but Maya and Katie both shot me a look that said, “She’s broke; just pay her.” So, I forked over the money. That night, though, she ended up vomiting and cramping. I took her to Crestview, only for her to turn it back on me, saying I was overreacting. She handed back just a dollar fifty out of the twenty I’d covered, saying, “I only needed cheap stomach pills; I wouldn’t have gotten sick if you hadn’t ordered the tea. Here’s a dollar fifty, so I’m not taking advantage.” That was a slap in the face, but I let it slide—until she handed me a medical evaluation for depression and demanded, “Your attitudes made me depressed. My treatment and prescriptions should be covered by you all.” I’d never met someone this twisted. I lost it, and we ended up fighting. She yanked my hair, dragged me, and finally shoved me down the stairs. My roommates didn’t call 911; they just coordinated their stories to say I fell. After a few days of playing the system, they each scored a graduate scholarship. One said, “Nina’s in a rough spot, so chipping in a bit more is the right thing. Sloane was just being petty; no wonder she got what was coming to her.” But every time Nina needed money, they’d bury their heads in the sand and let me deal with it. This time, I’m done being their ATM. Let’s see how righteous they sound when they’re forced to shell out without me around.

I forced down my anger and smiled at Nina. “Oh, I already ordered from Ivy’s. Such a shame, though—maybe try asking Maya or Katie?” Everyone was still friendly early in the semester, so it was easy for her to ask them to split an order. Soon enough, Nina and Maya placed one together. When the food arrived, Nina brought in both bags and declared, “Oh, that was exhausting. Five bucks each for the delivery, please!” She pulled out her payment code and held it right up to me. I crossed my arms and just stared. Maya’s face turned sour too. Nina was testing me, trying to figure out my limits. The going rate on campus for getting deliveries or packages was about two dollars. Nina took my order without telling me and now expected me to cover a hiked-up fee. I took a deep breath. “Nina, I didn’t ask you to pick it up, nor did you tell me you were going to. And anyway, the rate’s only two dollars per delivery—five’s too much.” She shot up, face dark, and sneered, “Oh, so now I’m wrong for bringing your stuff up? Don’t act like you don’t know I’m on financial aid. Your family’s got money; a little ‘friend discount’ won’t hurt you, right?” “Friend discount,” huh? That was a new one. I didn’t want a fight this soon, but I wasn’t backing down. I transferred two dollars and not a penny more. “We’re just roommates, not friends. I’ll stick to the going rate. And if you take my order again without asking, you won’t get anything next time.”

The moment the money hit her phone, Nina played the wounded act, looking all teary-eyed. Maya and Katie rushed to her like bloodhounds on the scent, comforting her and throwing digs my way. “She’s struggling, and you’re acting all stingy. Got money but still so uptight!” “No worries, Nina. Here’s ten bucks for doing double duty.” Remembering last time, I knew Nina’s real agenda. She’d squeeze every cent out of us if she could. We’d see if they could keep up the sympathy act later. Their unity didn’t last the night. By midnight, Nina and Maya were both throwing up, with Katie frozen in shock. Once again, history repeated itself, but this time I wasn’t her “blood donor.” Let them split costs on their own. Lying in bed, I heard the chaos outside. But Nina wasn’t letting me off easy. She pulled my curtain open and said, “Sloane, can you take us to the hospital? We ate something bad.” I frowned. “And that’s my concern why? Pulling back someone’s bed curtain is plain rude.” She instantly turned on the waterworks. “We’re roommates! How can you be so heartless? Aren’t you supposed to lend a hand when things go south?” Maybe, before. But now I knew this was just the beginning. I’d let my “kind-hearted” roommates handle it.

Under my firm stance, the three of them went to Crestview Medical Center on their own. Katie gave me a strange look as they left, but I just stared back until she glanced away. The next morning, instead of them, I got a very annoyed Mr. Fletcher. “Sloane, your roommates were sick, and you just left them to it? You’re new to college, and your values aren’t fully formed yet, but you need to learn compassion.” The jabs took me by surprise. Last time, Nina had managed to push me down the stairs with their help—and Mr. Fletcher’s, who I later discovered was her relative. He had even manipulated her way into a financial aid spot. I wasn’t about to fall for it again. I faked a guilty look and stammered, “I… didn’t think much of it. I was just really tired and wanted to sleep.” He seemed satisfied with my humility and nodded. “Glad you realize. Let’s go to the hospital so you can apologize to Nina. And remember, with your privilege, you should help struggling friends.” He might as well have held his hand out for cash. I kept a smile on my face, double-checking my recording app was on. At Crestview, I found Nina and Maya getting IV drips, while Katie sat nearby on her phone. Nina rolled her eyes when she saw me. “I thought you said this wasn’t your problem. Why’d you show up?” she sneered, handing me a bill. “Doc says I got food poisoning, probably from your milk tea. You need to pay for some of this.” She pretended to be fair. “Don’t worry—I’ll go halfsies. Normally I’d just take a cheap stomach med, so I’ll cover three bucks. I’m not asking for charity.” I raised a brow. “So, you took my milk tea without asking, got sick, and now I should pay for your treatment?” Nina looked unapologetic. “Yep. It was your drink. You’re responsible.” I looked at the $200 bill, then asked Maya, “You good with three-dollar meds too?” Without even looking up, she replied, “Yep.” Mr. Fletcher, right on cue, said, “Sloane, apologize and pay. It’s just a few bucks, right?” Katie chimed in, “And don’t forget the rideshare fees.” They were really leaning into the whole “don’t take advantage” thing while charging me for every penny. Even vampires has their own limits.

I grinned and called over a passing nurse. “Could you remove their IVs, please?” Nina screamed, “Sloane, what the hell? How dare you?” I crumpled the bill and shoved it in her face. “I dare because I’m paying your medical bills.” Maya rushed to help Nina, but I shoved her back into her chair. I turned to the nurse. “Thank you. Please, pull out their IVs.” I still had a polite smile, but the nurse seemed unnerved, quickly pulling their IVs and scurrying off. Mr. Fletcher, a big guy, took a few steps back. Katie was practically shaking. Mr. Fletcher scolded, “Sloane, it’s just a payment. Was all this necessary? Can’t you see the bigger picture?” I pushed him toward the payment window. “Oh, sure! Since you care so much, you can pay for them.” “Oh, and don’t forget their rideshare. After all, I’m just a broke college kid here; couldn’t afford food if I tried.” Cornered by his own words, his face turned red as he grudgingly paid. I watched him fuming. “Happy now? Apologize to your roommates.” Still smiling, I pulled two bottles of nausea pills from my pocket and handed one to Nina. “Now, here’s the real math: these pills are sixteen bucks, so you each owe me eight.” “Eight minus your three-dollar meds, so each of you can Venmo me five. Add the rideshare and the milk tea you swiped…” I took out my phone. “Looks like you owe me twenty bucks.” Nina looked stunned, too flustered to speak. I held out the payment code, smiling at her angry face. “Well? Let’s see if my ‘good roommates’ mind paying their dues.”

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Today was the first day after my courthouse wedding with Celeste Harper, and she hadn’t come home all night. Yet, there she was, clear as day, on her childhood friend Liam Everett’s social media. A post appeared around midnight—a photo of them leaning close together. The caption read: “I knew that no matter what, one call and you’d be right by my side.” Content Celeste finally came back around noon after staying out all night. When she saw me sitting on the couch, she didn’t say a word. The silence grew so tense that I finally had to speak up. “Where were you last night?” With an annoyed expression, she replied, “I’m exhausted. Can we talk tomorrow?” I looked around at all the red-and-white wedding decorations and couldn’t help but feel a bit of self-mockery. Celeste—beautiful, smart, practically perfect. She’s a senior executive at a major corporation, with looks, status, and charm to spare. Everyone says I was lucky to get her, that I’m the one who “married up.” I’d always held onto the memories of us, all the good she’d done for me. I’d tried so hard to be the best boyfriend, the best husband I could be. But now that we’re officially married, I just want out. I didn’t reply to her. Instead, I sent a message to everyone who’d known we were getting married. They scolded me, and my family tried to talk sense into me. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell anyone the real reason. Only my closest family knew, and after their initial anger faded into silence, they eventually nodded in support. That night, I went through more than I could process. I didn’t look at Celeste, and she didn’t care to ask, heading off to her room. I packed my suit for the next day neatly, took down all the decorations, and threw them in the trash. If I was leaving, I didn’t need the “newlywed home.” As I was about to leave, I glanced at her room. Since we’d just moved in, we hadn’t been sleeping in the same room yet. I paused a long moment, then left. On the way out, I texted her: “Let’s get a divorce. I’m leaving.” I put my stuff down where I was going, turned off my phone, and went to sleep. What might come next wasn’t even on my mind.

I slept until evening. When I turned on my phone, I saw over twenty missed calls from Celeste and a stream of messages on WhatsApp. The first few were sharp and questioning, but later, her tone grew softer. “What are you doing? We just got married!” “Say something! Don’t just ignore me. Where are you?” … “Where are you, babe?” “Can we please meet and talk this over?” I blocked all her contacts and slept alone till the next day. When I woke, a loud knock came at my door. I deliberately took my time to open it. Celeste stood there, looking exhausted, but the second she saw me, it was as if a light had turned back on in her eyes. “Gabe, can we please stop this?” Hearing her words felt like a cruel joke. What right did she have to ask me to stop this? She saw me staring in silence, and finally sighed, reaching for my hand. “Let’s go home, alright? Don’t do this. I’m really tired.” Her eyes were soft, pleading, but I pulled my hand free. “Miss Harper, are you here to finalize the divorce?” “And I’m not playing around. Please take this divorce seriously.” Right in front of her, I grabbed a disinfectant wipe and scrubbed where she’d touched me. She looked deeply hurt, mouth open as if to speak, but she stayed silent.

“Celeste, I suggest you stop making things so messy. After all, our families have always been close.” Her expression was one of pained innocence. “You canceled the wedding ceremony without telling me. I had to ask everyone why it hadn’t started.” “A crowd gathered, pointing and whispering, and now I have to chase you to come back with me. I’m exhausted. I found out about everything only after seeing your message, and you couldn’t even be bothered to tell me directly?” “Is it my fault you didn’t check your phone? You’re that busy?” “Funny how you’re not busy enough to run off with someone else—and take pictures!” She looked at me, hurt but determined. “Guess they were right,” she said. “A dirty mind only sees filth.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I’m the one with a dirty mind. So when my own wife’s in bed with someone else, should I assume they’re just playing a game?” Celeste’s mouth opened to say something, but she stayed silent. Yesterday, seeing her like this would’ve made me want to hold her tight, tell her it was all okay. “Let’s put off the divorce discussion until later. My parents are waiting for us for lunch,” she added. “Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Sam are there too.” Hearing that, I froze. Her parents had always been good to me. Realizing how harsh I’d been, I reluctantly nodded and followed her back to her parents’ house. The moment we walked in, her dad greeted me warmly. I’d expected anger or blame, but there was nothing of the sort.

I felt out of place sitting in their living room. When I offered to help Aunt Rebecca in the kitchen like always, she waved me off. “Just relax, Gabe. Lunch is almost ready.” Uncle Sam and Aunt Rebecca acted like nothing had happened. Celeste even brought me a plate of my favorite fruit, her eyes twinkling with a smile. A strange guilt tugged at me, but it didn’t change my decision to end things. “What’s with the cold shoulder?” she asked, watching me closely. “I’m here to end this, Celeste. This is the last time I’ll be in your parents’ house.” She turned pale, biting her lip, trembling slightly. Silence filled the room until lunch was ready, and Aunt Rebecca urged me to eat. Celeste kept her head down while Uncle Sam sensed the tension and tried to lighten the mood. “Look at you, Gabe. You’re looking sharper than ever!” he said, chuckling. “Celeste, you’re a lucky woman!” I opened my mouth to correct him, but Celeste pinched my sleeve under the table, giving me an embarrassed look. It was clear she hadn’t told her parents about us. I felt a sudden, overwhelming sadness. Her parents had always treated me with kindness, so I’d tried to do the same for Celeste, supporting her through every little thing, even waiting with hot food if she worked late. But it was never me on her mind.

As I thought about it, my grip on my bowl tightened, my knuckles whitening. Aunt Rebecca noticed and nudged Celeste to serve me a dish. Celeste gave her mother an annoyed look and reluctantly plopped a shrimp onto my plate. I’m allergic to seafood. After all this time, she didn’t even know. From that moment on, I barely tasted a thing. That shrimp stayed untouched on my plate, like a neon sign. After we finished, I thanked Aunt Rebecca and Uncle Sam. “Thanks for the lovely meal,” I said, trying to keep steady, “but I need to make something clear. Celeste and I are separated. I’m sorry to disappoint you.” They looked stunned, and Celeste gripped her fists tightly. Before they could speak, the doorbell rang, and Celeste glanced at me, her eyes dark, before heading to answer. I had a sinking feeling about who it might be.

Sure enough, the voice that greeted Celeste from the doorway was all too familiar—Liam Everett, her childhood friend. She called out cheerfully. “Hey, Liam! What’s for lunch? Smells amazing in here!” Liam froze a second when he saw me but quickly gave a polite nod. “Ah, Gabe’s here, too. That explains it.” He slipped off his shoes and set a gift on the table, making himself at home, even pulling out a chair to sit between us. Like he belonged there more than I did. I glanced down and saw them both wearing matching slippers—the same pair I’d noticed her wearing recently. I couldn’t help but laugh at the irony. Liam broke the silence, glancing between us. “What’s with the mood in here?” Celeste shot me a warning look. Uncle Sam and Aunt Rebecca kept their heads down, focused on their food. I looked straight at Liam and spoke, my voice calm and clear. “Celeste and I are done. The divorce papers aren’t signed yet, but hey, feel free to go after her.” Celeste threw her chopsticks on the table. “Gabe, enough! I told you, he’s like a brother to me. You’re the one making it something else!” And just like that, I knew what I had to do.

I stood up and brushed off the imaginary dust from my shoulders, barely giving Liam a glance. “Aunt Rebecca, Uncle Sam,” I said with a slight smile, “thank you for the lovely meal. You’re kind to have me, but I don’t think I belong here anymore. Please, enjoy the rest of your lunch.” They walked me to the door, with Aunt Rebecca’s voice thick with unspoken words. I waved goodbye to them, knowing the only two people in that house who genuinely cared for me were them. Once outside, I sped off to my friend’s place. This friend had helped with every part of the wedding preparations, going above and beyond. Now, he deserved to hear the truth. By the time I reached his place, he was waiting for me with a look of sympathy. I sat across from him, explaining the situation carefully. Though I tried to leave out the ugliest parts, he caught on quickly. With a heavy sigh, he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Man, I knew that woman wasn’t good news. But hey, this is your fresh start. I got some friends to introduce you to.” We shared a laugh, a few drinks, and finally, I was able to breathe. The next day, when I got to work, a couple of colleagues came over, asking if I had wedding treats. After all, I’d taken leave to get married. It felt strange to say anything, so I just laughed it off, dodging their questions as best as I could. For the next few days, I went out of my way to avoid Celeste. I didn’t think it would be that easy, but it was. Eventually, I sent the divorce papers to her email, though she didn’t respond. It didn’t matter. I was moving forward—she’d find her own way. After work, I grabbed my takeout and headed downstairs, only to spot a woman in a red dress waiting outside, holding a bouquet of red roses that matched her perfectly. People passing by were glancing her way. The sight brought back a flood of memories—she was just like that the first time I saw her. It had been junior year, at a party organized by some friends. The moment Celeste Harper walked in, she became the center of my universe. I stood there, spellbound, unable to think straight. Lost in thought, I didn’t realize she was walking toward me, roses in hand, eyes soft and intent. She was impossible to ignore when she looked like that, all glowing.

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My roommate brought back a strange mud idol when the semester started. Since then, she’s gotten prettier, and her luck seems to be on a winning streak. The rest of our dormmates have been asking her for advice. But one night… I saw them gathered around, their bellies swollen, howling in horror. Content “Lily, you’re looking more beautiful by the day!” The roommates, faces filled with envy and wonder, gathered around Lilith “Lily” Monroe. Lily held a powder puff, checking herself in the mirror, a smug look on her face as she cast a quick glance my way, letting out a disdainful snort. “Oh, you guys… Don’t say that; it’ll make Minnie feel so bad…” Lily suddenly whipped her eyebrow pencil at Minnie Lake. “Did you finish my homework, ugly?” Jenna Reed, one of our roommates, quickly picked up the mud idol sitting on Lily’s desk. “I’m starting to think you’ve been looking better ever since you got this thing. What is it, some kind of lucky charm?” Lily’s face twisted, and she snatched the mud idol back from Jenna’s hands. “It’s mine!” She clutched it close, almost as if it were a child, gently stroking the little doll’s face as though it were her own flesh and blood. But from my angle, I thought I saw the idol blink. I rubbed my eyes, looking again. The doll was just as before—stony and unmoving. Lily carefully placed the doll in the corner of her desk and covered it with a crimson cloth. The discussion ended with everyone in a tense mood, but my heart pounded with unease. Could it have been my imagination?

Early the next morning, a sharp scream jolted me awake. I looked down from my top bunk to see Jenna, as white as a sheet, huddled against the wall, clutching her stomach. When I looked at her bed, a chill shot through my entire body—her once-clean white sheets were stained red with blood, the metallic scent slowly filling the room. Dana Clarke, another roommate, and I hurriedly helped Jenna to the campus health center, her face pale and drained. But when the doctor examined her, we were all dumbfounded. “You’ve… you’ve had a miscarriage…” Before he could finish, Jenna collapsed to the floor, shaking her head over and over. “No way… I’ve never even dated anyone… How could I possibly have a miscarriage?” The doctor handed us a medical report, muttering, “College kids these days… such reckless behavior…” Jenna dashed into the ladies’ restroom right after we left the health center. Dana hesitated for a moment, glancing around before whispering to me. “Lana, I think Lily has something to do with what happened to Jenna.” My heart skipped a beat. Dana, clearly disturbed, cast a sidelong glance at the restroom, then quickly looked back at me. “I saw Jenna asking Lily on WhatsApp last night about her ‘beauty secret.’” Since Dana and Jenna’s beds were bunked, it was easy to believe Dana had seen it. “I got up in the middle of the night and saw Jenna pacing by Lily’s desk, then heading back and forth to the bathroom… and now, this morning, she’s…” Dana hadn’t even finished her sentence when Jenna emerged, a smile now on her face and dimples showing where there had been none before. “W-what happened? You look so… different!” Jenna glanced proudly at us, her cheeks rosy and glowing—any sign of her earlier weakness was gone.

I watched as my roommates fawned over Lily, anxiety tightening my chest. I glanced over at Dana, who was smiling, offering Lily some snacks. Since witnessing Jenna’s transformation, Dana seemed like a different person, ingratiating herself to Lily constantly. Now, everyone in the dorm except for Minnie and me was obsessed with pleasing Lily. And just as I feared, the next morning, the dorm was filled with a suffocating stench of blood. Dana and our other roommate, Dora Langston, both looked ghastly, and their beds were drenched in blood. The two of them staggered to the public bathroom, clutching blood-stained sheets. It wasn’t long before the two reappeared, looking as fresh and vibrant as models. All four girls then gathered around Lily’s desk, cooing over the mud idol like proud mothers. They noticed Minnie and I hadn’t joined them and forcefully dragged us over. Nervous, I held the doll close, glancing around. Just then, the dorm lights flickered, and, horrifyingly, the idol’s face lifted into a smile. Terrified, I shrieked, throwing the idol aside. Minnie quickly caught it. But that night, something terrible happened to Minnie. After I’d nearly dropped the idol, Lily snapped at me. I felt guilty, so I bought some fruit and snacks from Mason’s Grocery to leave on her desk as an apology. I pretended to sleep, waiting until 3:30 a.m. to place them. Just as I was about to get up, my bed shook slightly, freezing me in place. Moments later, I heard faint, heavy breathing from below. Minnie slept on the bottom bunk, so I figured she might be mumbling in her sleep. But then the bed shook harder, and the rhythmic squeak echoed up to my mattress. “Stop… please, it hurts…” What was going on? My body tensed with fear. Was Minnie dreaming… or was there someone in her bed? Shy and quiet, Minnie hardly interacted with anyone, let alone had a boyfriend. Driven by curiosity, I leaned down to peek over the edge. What I saw made my blood run cold.

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