A dating reality show decided to come all the way to our mountain town for filming, and they needed a guide. As the only college graduate in the entire town, the responsibility naturally fell on my shoulders. I had planned to quietly fulfill my duty, but who knew that one of the female contestants just had to make trouble? My family has been wealthy for generations, but did I say anything about it? Seriously, in this day and age, why judge people by their looks? Dating reality shows sure have become wild these days. Instead of staying in the comfort of the city, they just had to come out to our little Appalachian town to stir things up. They set up tents, built a campfire, and watched the stars—trying to get all romantic. But after all their fussing, they realized they hadn’t planned one crucial thing for tomorrow—getting a tour guide. How were they supposed to manage without a guide? It’s the middle of nowhere; if someone gets lost in these mountains, it’d be a disaster. The director spent half the day explaining to Mr. Carter, our mayor, what exactly they needed. And boy, were their requirements high. “Not too rustic, not too plain,” they said, because, after all, it’s a dating show. “Preferably someone with a bit of education,” the director added. “You never know when the couple might get awkward when they’re alone. That’s when the guide can jump in and save the day.” And so, as the only college graduate in town, I was handed the glorious task of being their guide. Mr. Carter found me napping on the old country bed in my house, dreaming of handsome guys. But the moment I laid eyes on Ethan Williams, I knew that dream was over. Brittany Ross, the woman paired with Ethan, instantly hated me. Especially after she caught me smiling like a lovestruck fool at her partner. Her eye-roll was so dramatic I thought her eyes might fall out. “This girl from the mountains isn’t what I expected,” she said, covering her mouth, half-laughing. “Look at her; she’s not even shy around handsome guys. Last time I was here, the girls would blush the moment they saw a guy.” Her snide tone didn’t faze me. I tilted my head, looking innocently at her, and asked, “Oh, have you been to the mountains before, sister?” “Couldn’t find love last time, so you’re trying again?” I said, as sweet as sugar. As soon as I spoke, not just the crew, but even the usually stoic Ethan glanced over. I kept my wide-eyed, innocent look, staring at Brittany. After all, the mountain air here keeps us looking young, and my plain clothes only made me seem more like the sweet, innocent type. Brittany’s face turned every shade between green and white—a sight to behold. “What nonsense are you talking about, kid? Don’t you have any respect for others?” Oh, here we go. I wasn’t about to take that hit. I immediately put on a sad face, looking like I was about to cry. “Hey, hey, what’s this about? I didn’t bully you!” Brittany took a step back, startled. “I just think Brittany’s right,” I said, my voice small and trembling. “I really shouldn’t have spoken like that.” I pouted, looking as pitiful as possible. “I’ve heard my dad say that it’s hard for women in the city to find a good match these days. It’s not just about themselves; it’s about family background and education too.” “I mean, did I just ruin your chance to fall in love with Ethan?” I asked, glancing directly at him. Ethan’s eyes sparkled. He must have stifled a laugh earlier, making them shine even more.

I’d already heard about Ethan Williams before the crew even made it up the mountains. Honestly, it was because of him that I decided to stay in the mountains for this break before school started. Because, let’s face it, he’s gorgeous. “So, you’re really staying in the mountains for some pretty boy?” my dad asked when he heard I was interested in a guy. He stayed up all night, having someone investigate Ethan’s background. He’s the son of a rich family, Ivy League-educated, and handsome to boot. He was only on this dating show because it was a family project, just there to make an appearance. But to my dad, he was just some pretty boy who wasn’t good enough for his daughter. “Check him out, sure. Your daughter’s got everything; she just needs a reliable man,” I said. And with that, my dad dropped the subject, even thinking I had a point. “Fine, but when the crew leaves, someone’s gotta collect the final payment from them. You can help me with that,” he added. Oh, right, I forgot to mention—the mountains they’re filming on? They belong to my family. It’s land my grandpa left us. After he made his fortune, he stayed in the mountains as a forest ranger, thinking he’d earned enough and didn’t need to work anymore. I grew up here, so I know every inch of these mountains like the back of my hand. But these folks from the city don’t know anything about my background. They think I’m just some lucky kid who managed to escape the mountains for college. So I’ve just laughed off any condescending comments they’ve thrown my way—except for the times when Brittany’s face turned into a full-on color palette of embarrassment. Ethan, on the other hand, was the quiet type. If something didn’t concern him directly, he wouldn’t say a word. But as soon as everyone’s attention shifted away, Ethan suddenly spoke up, “Yeah, finding a good match in the city is tough these days.” I saw his assistant’s jaw drop in surprise. I saw Brittany’s face turn the color of mud. And I saw Ethan flash me a rare, amused smile. I straightened up, feeling a proud sense of victory bubbling inside me. “Well then, I’ll make sure to be more careful next time when talking to you, Brittany.”

I’ve got a sweet tongue and a hardworking attitude. On our tour, I took them to all the scenic spots, saving the crew a ton of time on filming. By lunchtime, the crew liked me so much they’d started slipping me extra snacks. Brittany had been trying to hold in her annoyance all morning, but seeing the crew treat me kindly, her “trouble radar” kicked in. “Oh, I didn’t realize it before,” she said, nodding at her assistant, “but go ahead and give the snacks to little Jessica. These are things you don’t find often in the mountains.” The cameras were rolling, and she acted like some sort of angel. But anyone with half a brain could tell she was trying to embarrass me. I blinked, playing dumb, letting my gaze flick back and forth over the snacks her assistant handed me. “I’ve had these before, Brittany. Is it your first time trying them? How cute!” Brittany’s smile froze on her face. “Uh, no, I have these all the time. I brought them just for you,” she said, her voice faltering. “Oh, no need to make a big deal of it. I eat these all the time too,” I replied, smiling politely. “And wow, Brittany, you’re amazing! Eating snacks like these all the time and still staying in such great shape,” I said, pinching my own stomach with a playful expression, “unlike me.” Brittany forced a laugh. “You’ve got a great figure too.” “Really?” I asked, tilting my head. “I run around these mountains every day, but my figure’s nowhere near as… ordinary as yours.” I gave her a once-over as I said the words “ordinary,” my face scrunched up in mock confusion. Honestly, running around the mountains every day keeps me in way better shape than delicate Brittany could ever hope for. Ignoring Brittany’s expression, Ethan chimed in, sounding curious, “You run around these mountains every day?” I turned to him and nodded, “Yup!” “I heard these mountains are privately owned,” Ethan said, clearly puzzled. “Yep, they are,” I agreed. “They belong to my family.”

The crew fell silent for a few seconds, and everyone stared at me like they’d just learned a huge secret. Even Brittany was too stunned to speak. “Your family’s?” Ethan squinted. “These mountains all belong to your family?” I nodded, standing up and pointing to the farthest peak they could see. “Yup, all of them.” “Feel free to visit anytime. I’ll ask my dad to give you a discount.” I’m probably the first person ever to invite people to visit the mountains for fun. The crew was in shock, and the cameras kept rolling, but they seemed to forget they were filming a dating show. I didn’t mind. Feeling refreshed from the break, I led them to the next scenic spot. “This area’s perfect if you want to set up camp,” I said, gesturing grandly. “Camp? How far is it from the guest lodge? No way I’m staying here overnight,” Brittany piped up before anyone else could speak. She shot me a dramatic eye-roll, like I was the one pushing her to sleep in a tent. What’s her problem? If you don’t want to camp, maybe let the crew know ahead of time instead of throwing a fit at me. Brittany’s complaint left the director a bit speechless. “Brittany, we agreed to camp before we started filming,” the director reminded her. “Who agreed to that? The tent’s just for show, right? This place is crawling with bugs—what if they bite me?” Brittany whined. City folks sure have it rough. I’ve lived here for years and barely get bitten. What, does she have blood that’s special to mosquitoes? I rolled my eyes and sat down, waiting for them to figure it out. I thought it was just a disagreement between Brittany and the crew. But before long, the blame got shifted onto me. “That girl said these mountains are her family’s, right? Can’t she at least arrange for us to stay at the guest lodge?” I glanced at the confused director, unsure how I got dragged into it. Just then, Ethan walked over. “Brittany insists on staying at the lodge. The director says they haven’t booked it for that long, so now she’s blaming you,” he explained. “Ridiculous. Don’t let it bother you,” he added. I didn’t want to deal with it, but even when I stayed quiet, someone always found a way to make it my problem. “Why aren’t you saying anything? Could it be you were lying about everything?” Brittany snapped, hands on her hips. I stood up, brushing off my skirt and smiling confidently. “Fine. You want to stay at the lodge for a few more days? Follow me.”

Our town used to be poor. But once my family became wealthy, we helped our neighbors and lifted everyone into a comfortable middle-class life. So sometimes, I have more pull than even Mr. Carter. A few extra nights at the guest lodge? No problem. Mr. Carter agreed so quickly he didn’t even ask for payment. Brittany got her wish, but I got a bit of praise in front of the crew, making her more irritated than ever. But what could she do? This was my turf, and I had plenty of ways to handle her. After getting Brittany settled, the crew was utterly exhausted. The director, trying to be kind, called it a day and suggested everyone rest. “Is the shoot done for today?” I asked, glancing around, then waved Mr. Carter over. “Yeah, after a whole day of running around, time to get a hot shower and sleep,” the director said, casting a quick glance at Brittany. His message was clear. If it weren’t for her insisting on avoiding the tents, they’d all be resting by now. Just as we finished talking, Mr. Carter drove up in a small bus. “Everyone, hop on. Bring all your gear,” I called out. “All our gear?” the director asked, confused. I nodded with a smile. “I’m taking you somewhere better.” The “better place” was none other than the five-story villa my brother built halfway up the mountain. It’s tucked away and private—perfect for a film crew to relax without being disturbed. When the bus stopped, the director and crew were in awe. “You’ll stay here tonight. There’s a hot spring for soaking in the rooms, and on the second floor, we’ve got a small restaurant. It’s nothing fancy—just simple home-cooked meals, but I hope you don’t mind.” “This… this is your place?” the director asked, his eyes wide with envy.

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Ten years after the divorce, Brock Kingston showed up at our door with his three brats, asking my mom, Veronica, to take him back. The first thing out of his mouth was a demand for our suburban mansion, a claim on Ivy’s Smokehouse, and on top of that, he wanted me to hand over my 2-million-follower Instagram account to my stepsister, Paige. Veronica, my mom, wasn’t having any of it. She scoffed and said, “An old cucumber painted green, trying to look fresh. Nice try.” Brock turned up just as Mom and I got home from the restaurant after a long night of work. “It’s past midnight, and you two are still out messing around?” His face was twisted in anger, barking orders as soon as he saw us. Mom and I exchanged an eye roll, almost in unison. Ten years ago, we agreed we’d never see him again, so why was he suddenly back, trying to act like he still had a say in our lives? Like he had the right to question us? “Sweetie,” my mom suddenly said, her voice raised so I could hear, “do you know why Mr. Thompson’s granddad lived to be a hundred?” I replied, “Because he minded his own business.” Mom gave a satisfied nod, took my hand, and we walked right past Brock without another glance. “We need to talk, Veronica,” Brock growled, his tone commanding as if he had any right to. He even reached out to grab her arm. Without thinking, I stepped between them, glaring. “Keep your hands to yourself, or I’ll make sure your head spins backward.” Ten years ago, I couldn’t stop him from hitting my mom, but now? Now I’ve got a black belt in Muay Thai. One good hook aimed near his head would make him see stars for weeks. I wasn’t bluffing. Brock flinched, shocked at how fast I moved. But then he got mad. “Adults are talking here, Ivy. Stay out of it. Where are your manners?” Coldly, I shot back, “My dad died young, so cut me some slack.” “You little—” he raised his hand, ready to slap me, but Mom caught his wrist in a tight grip. Years of boozing and partying had left him weak. We all heard the crack as she twisted his arm, making him yelp in pain. Still, her expression didn’t change. “Unless you want a beating, get lost. Don’t stand here barking like a dog and disturbing the peace.” “You’re still so crude,” Brock sneered, but we could see how much he despised us. Finally, he hissed, “Fine, I won’t argue with you.” “Tomorrow, I’ll be free. We’re going to the County Registrar’s Office to get remarried.”

Mom stared at him like he’d lost his mind. “Are you out of your damn mind?” I didn’t even hesitate. I pulled out a business card and shoved it at him. “Top mental health specialist. Mention my name for a discount. No need to thank me.” Brock’s face turned red, then blue, but finally, he scoffed and looked back at Mom. “Back then, you were begging not to get divorced, and now that I’m offering to come back, you’re still not happy? What more do you want?” See, my mom had been naive back then. She had married Brock with no dowry, no wedding. Two months after they tied the knot, he left to “manage a project.” For the next decade, he barely came home, leaving Mom to deal with everything on her own. When she was pregnant with twins, she had to borrow money from friends to pay for the hospital bills. During postpartum, she didn’t even have a bowl of hot soup. And Brock? He made every excuse not to come back, but in reality, he was living a double life with his new girlfriend. Mom looked him up and down, then burst out laughing. “And why should I remarry you? For your beer gut? Your thinning hair? Or maybe for the extra fat on your face—you could probably fry two pounds of lard from it.” “Don’t you have a mirror at home? Or even a toilet? Try looking at yourself next time you pee.” Brock, who always thought so highly of himself, turned red with fury. His gut was already bulging out, and two shirt buttons popped off under the pressure. I, ever the helpful daughter, handed him another business card. “Consider a gym membership. Mention my name for three free spin class sessions.” Then, while he was still fuming, I grabbed Mom’s hand, and we slipped into the building, slamming the door shut behind us. Brock started kicking the door in frustration. “Open this door!” I wasn’t about to indulge him. Instead, I called Westfield Gated Community Security right in front of him. “Hi, yes, there’s a flasher outside Building 7, Unit 3. Oh no, he’s still kicking the door. Can you send someone over, please?” Hanging up, I smirked at Brock, still standing there, raging. “Hey, Uncle, you think security’s not enough? Should I call the cops too?” “Ivy, I’m your father!” Brock was furious now, his face turning purple. “You must have me confused, sir. I’m Ivy Hayes—daughter of Veronica, whose real father is long gone,” I said with a wink.

Later that night, I paid triple to have someone run a thorough check on Brock’s life these past few years. Not long after, Mom came into my room, clutching a pillow to her chest. You’d never guess she was now a successful businesswoman, co-owning a multimillion-dollar restaurant group. But when things got tough, she still came to me for comfort. My heart sank. No way she was falling for Brock again, right? Was she really going to let an old loser like him back into her life? “Mom, don’t even think about it. I’d rather you and Aunt Julia get married in Vegas and make me call her mom than ever accept Brock as my father again!” I yelled, diving under my blanket. Out of sight, out of mind. “Stop with the nonsense.” Mom dragged me out from under the covers and showed me a text on her phone. Somehow, Brock had gotten her number and sent her a message. It was an ultrasound. Captioned: “This is Luke’s child. He’s five months along. It’s a boy. Can you really let your grandson grow up without a grandmother?” I stared at the message, speechless. Luke was my twin brother. Mom raised us both on her own. Our grandparents never liked Mom, and they treated us horribly. They barely gave Luke, their “precious grandson,” any better treatment than me. When Mom and Brock divorced, my grandma had shoved me toward Mom: “Luke stays. You can take Ivy. We don’t need a granddaughter.” My grandpa had the nerve to threaten her: “You brought nothing valuable into this family. Take Ivy and nothing more, or we’ll have you arrested.” Mom walked away with nothing but me, and still, she fought in court to take Luke with us. But on the day of the ruling, Luke chose Brock. Even when Brock slapped Mom in front of everyone and threw me at the feet of Tiffany Reynolds and her daughter, Luke did nothing. He just turned his face away, cold and distant. I don’t hate Brock or the rest of his disgusting crew anymore, but Luke? I still hate him. He used to protect me, promise he’d always take care of me and Mom. But he broke that promise. “So,” I said, rolling my eyes, “excited about your shiny new grandson?” Mom flicked my forehead. “Stop it!” she said, but then, in a thoughtful tone, she muttered, “I don’t know, there’s something off about this. Brock is never this persistent unless there’s something else he wants.” “Even when the whole internet roasted him over Tiffany, he stuck with her, so why now?” “Do you think it’s because Hunter brought so much attention to Ivy’s Smokehouse that he wants in on it?” Hunter Brooks, Aunt Julia’s son, had become an overnight sensation thanks to a new show, and his fame had turned our little BBQ joint into a hotspot. We were trending all over social media, and business was booming. It made sense. Brock was after more than just a reunion.

A few hours later, we had our answer. Money talks, and the private investigator I hired spilled everything. Brock’s been desperate to remarry because he’s flat broke. A few months ago, his business collapsed, leaving him drowning in debt. Tiffany divorced him and took everything—the house, the car. He signed it all over to her. It wasn’t a real breakup, though. They just faked the divorce to protect her assets. Now, Brock, Luke, and his wife Madison were renting a place, scraping by on Luke’s income alone. Even then, Brock still sent Tiffany and her daughter monthly payments. He’d even taken out tens of thousands in high-interest loans under Luke’s name. But that money wouldn’t last long for Tiffany and Paige. To crawl his way out of this hole, Brock got involved in an underground factory scheme and needed capital fast to start manufacturing cheap, shady products. By the time I finished reading, I was seething. “Mom, this isn’t just about money. He’s planning to drag us down with him when it all goes south.” Mom slammed her mouse on the table and cursed. “That conniving bastard! We’ll see if he can swindle money from me, or if I’ll be the one sending him to prison!” She promptly unblocked Brock’s number and sent out a Facebook status to bait him: “💖💋 Thanks, sweetie! This year’s birthday gift is my dream car, a Candy Pink Maserati!!! 🎉🎉 In three days, we’re throwing a party at The Crystal Palace. Come celebrate!” The photo attached was of her brand-new, bubblegum-pink Maserati—a gift from Aunt Julia for Girls’ Day this year. Not long after, Brock left a sneaky like on the post and even commented: “Can’t wait to celebrate with you, babe! I’ll bring the kids!” Mom snorted. “Oh, he’s coming. Let’s see if he leaves in one piece.”

Early the next morning, Brock called, pretending to be concerned. Mom put him on speakerphone and responded lazily to his small talk. Brock was practically giddy, “Your birthday is a big deal! I’m bringing the kids to celebrate with you. We’re not getting any younger, and family matters most. It’d be sad if your son and daughter-in-law weren’t there, right?” “Surprised you even remember my birthday,” Mom sneered. “Of course I do! After all, we were married for so long. I still care about you.” Hearing that made my blood boil. That liar never cared about Mom. Three days from now wasn’t even her birthday—it was the anniversary of their divorce. Every year, we’d have a quiet celebration with Aunt Julia and Hunter, marking the day Mom got her freedom back. But this year, we’d be throwing a huge party for one reason only: to set a trap. Still, Brock was all sweetness over the phone, asking what kind of gift Mom wanted. With a dismissive wave, she replied, “If you’re serious about a gift, make it a brand-new Hermes bag. Anything less would be embarrassing in front of my girlfriends.” “…Alright,” Brock said, but I could hear him suck in a breath through the phone. He had no choice. After all, you have to spend money to make money.

Three days later, the “birthday party” was on. Halfway there, Brock called again, this time with a ridiculous level of affection. “Ronnie,” he cooed. Mom recoiled in disgust, nearly throwing her phone out the window. I was next to her, trying not to laugh. That sugary tone was so nauseating it almost made me puke up my lunch. “Ronnie, why aren’t you answering?” Brock pressed. Mom cleared her throat. “Do you have something to say, or can I hang up?” “Of course, of course, I’ve got something!” Brock stammered. “Paige is so excited about your birthday. She’s learned a song on the piano just for you!” He really had the nerve. Was he seriously trying to guilt-trip her? Paige was his daughter with Tiffany Reynolds, the same girl who sneered down at me after Brock threw me at their feet outside the courthouse years ago. Back then, she’d rubbed her expensive shoes against my face, saying, “Keep your filthy self away from me. You’ll ruin my shoes.” She’d smirked as she added, “Dad only wants Luke. He doesn’t care about you. He’s going to leave everything to me.” After a moment, Mom broke her silence, “Don’t bring any of that filth into my life.” Brock didn’t like that, but he still played along, putting on his most charming voice. “What are you talking about? Paige said if we get back together, she’d love for you to be her one and only mother. Plus, she’s so talented at the piano…” Mom laughed coldly. “Oh, is that so? Well, bring her along. I suppose one more place at the table won’t hurt.” Brock sounded pleased as he hung up the phone.

We arrived at The Crystal Palace first, but Brock and his little entourage showed up soon after. He was decked out in a flashy suit with a bright red rose pinned to his chest, while Paige clung to his arm in a designer off-the-shoulder dress, her makeup flawless. They were clearly prepared for a show. Behind them was a woman, pale as her dress, with her hands resting on her slightly swollen belly. She walked carefully, like a delicate flower. Luke walked by her side, practically glowing with fatherly pride, but little did he know that the baby wasn’t even his. The poor fool was nothing but a pawn in their game. I glanced over at Luke’s head, studying him for a moment. He didn’t notice. He was too focused on his new wife. “Ivy!” Brock greeted me enthusiastically. “Happy Birthday, Mom!” Paige chimed in sweetly, her smile too wide to be sincere. Mom didn’t even try to hide her disdain, but Paige didn’t seem to care. She turned to me, throwing her arms around me like we were best friends. “Sis! It’s been so long!” I gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Not long enough, honestly. You haven’t changed at all.” Her skin was as thick as ever—just like her mother’s. Brock, always the showman, pulled Luke and his wife, Madison, up next. “And this is Luke’s wife, Madison.” Madison, the fragile-looking flower, pulled out a small box from her handbag and held it out to Mom. “Mom, I embroidered this keychain for you by hand. I hope you like it…” She was almost trembling, her bloodied fingers exposed to show how much effort she’d put into it. Her pitiful expression begged for approval, as if Mom refusing the gift would be a crime. It was… unsettling. I took the box from her and handed it to the staff at the reception desk. “Make a note: Brock Kingston’s family brought a keychain as a gift.” The receptionist repeated it loudly: “Thank you, Mr. Brock Kingston, for the generous keychain!”

Brock’s smile froze instantly. Luke’s face darkened too. Only Paige rushed to support Madison, who looked ready to faint, shaking her head in disapproval at me. “Sis, just because you don’t like her gift doesn’t mean you should humiliate her like this! She’s pregnant with your nephew!” “Alright, alright, let’s get inside,” Mom interrupted, clearly fed up. She grabbed my hand and pulled me away from the scene. Paige wasn’t about to let go, though. She practically skipped after us, chirping, “Mom, where’s the piano? Can I go warm up? There are going to be so many important people here, and I want to make sure I put on a good show!” I pointed toward the stage, and she floated away like a butterfly. It wasn’t long before the opening chords of “Wedding in a Dream” filled the room, drawing all eyes to the stage. As Paige played, Brock stepped onto the platform, holding a microphone and launching into a dramatic monologue. He poured his heart out, claiming he’d never stopped loving Mom and wanted to rekindle their relationship. “Veronica, I still love you.” “Twe”Twenty years ago, I didn’t give you the proposal you deserved. But today, I’m going to fix that.” With those words, Brock dropped to one knee, holding out a ring box toward Mom. “Please, marry me again!

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When the apocalypse arrived, the zombie outbreak began. I sat comfortably in the cool, old, abandoned Cold War bunker, watching the people who had bullied me in school now turning on each other like dogs fighting over scraps. The sight filled me with satisfaction, so I sent them a picture of me enjoying a warm bowl of chicken soup while my dogs, Max and Bella, happily gnawed on steaks. “Want some?” I asked, posting it in our class group chat. I watched their threats turn into desperate pleas, and all I responded with was: “Idiots. Keep dreaming.” 1 October 21, 2021 It’s been three days since the zombie outbreak, and the stable order at Ridgewood High School was already beginning to crumble. On the first day, the school had frantically called us all into the designated safe house, giving us a brief sense of safety. They provided us with a week’s worth of food. But human nature is unpredictable. Some students stole extra food to secure their own survival, and as supplies dwindled, the tension rose. Soon, our connection to the outside world was completely cut off, and fear began to dominate everyone’s minds. What started as solidarity quickly gave way to a breakdown in humanity. Fights broke out over how much food someone had eaten, and today was no different. “Let Chloe go outside. She’s brave enough to handle it, right?” Vanessa Gray’s voice pierced the room, just loud enough for everyone to hear. All eyes turned to me. “Yeah, Chloe’s dad was a weirdo, right? Bet she’s not scared of this kind of stuff.” “She’s tall, too. Maybe she could carry back a lot of supplies.” The whispers around me grew louder. They all stared at me like I was their ticket to salvation, speaking so casually, yet their eyes were filled with threat. They must’ve forgotten I’m just a girl. Before I could react, someone shoved me toward the door, pretending to cheer me on, “You got this!” I glanced outside at the zombie horde, then back at the people inside. They stood there, expressionless, more terrifying than the undead. They pushed me out the door as I fought to stay, the noise attracting the attention of nearby zombies. They stumbled toward me, and the people behind me locked the door tight. Through the crack in the door, I saw Vanessa smirking at me. Her face was gleeful as I took hesitant steps toward the zombies… 2 The sharp pain woke me up suddenly, and I jumped to my feet. The entire class turned to look at me, some stifling their laughter. “Chloe Reed! What are you doing?!” The voice of my English teacher cut through the confusion still lingering from the dream, and I realized I was back in the classroom. Was it all just a dream? That sickeningly familiar voice from the side interrupted my thoughts, dripping with sarcasm, “Maybe Chloe’s dad sent her a message from the afterlife. Isn’t he dead?” The whole class burst into laughter. “Enough! Chloe, take your book and go stand at the back of the room!” Mrs. Miller slammed her desk to regain control. I quietly grabbed my things and moved to the back of the classroom. My mind was still racing, trying to process that dream. If it was just a dream, why did it feel so real? The sensation of the zombies biting me still lingered in my hand. As soon as class ended, I rushed to the bathroom, pulling out my phone to search the internet for anything about zombies. Sure enough, I found a video. In it, a man stumbled toward the camera. His body was covered in blood, his face barely recognizable. His skin was veined with black and green. I knew immediately—he wasn’t human anymore. He was a zombie. Exactly like in my dream. I wasn’t dreaming at all. I had been reborn. I quickly checked the date on my phone: September 28, 202

There was still a month before the zombie outbreak. I had one month to find a safe place. Bang bang bang! The door to the bathroom rattled as someone banged on it. “Chloe, hurry up!” It was Vanessa. I clenched my fists, remembering everything she did in my past life. She was more than capable of it all. I forced myself to stay calm. It wasn’t the right time yet. I stepped out of the stall, facing her and her two lackeys. Vanessa smacked me across the face without hesitation, her voice dripping with cold disdain, “Move faster next time!” “You were in there forever. Did a ghost drag you down?” her sidekick, Ashley, sneered. “Why would she be scared? Maybe she inherited her dad’s psychic powers,” Vanessa added, her mocking smile twisting her face. They only said I wasn’t afraid because my dad used to tell fortunes. My mom died when I was young, so it was just my dad and me. I never felt ashamed of what he did for a living, but I learned early on to avoid the subject around my classmates. Then my dad died of stomach cancer, and Vanessa, pretending to care, came to my house with the principal, Mrs. Miller, in tow. When I returned to school, I became the target of their jokes. They didn’t care that I was now an orphan. To them, it was just fun. Vanessa led the charge. During gym, they threw balls at me. Once one person started, the rest followed. They even poured toilet water into my water bottle. They smeared glue on my chair, wrote disgusting things on my desk. Every time I tried to get help, the bullying only got worse. Some people suffer in silence. I was one of those people. I ignored them and walked out of the bathroom. Their filthy insults grew louder behind me. I went straight to Mrs. Miller’s office. “Mrs. Miller, I’ve been feeling really off lately. I’d like to take a few days off.” My voice shook slightly. I knew exactly why I was trembling. In my last life, I ended up dead because of them. I wasn’t about to let that happen again. Mrs. Miller noticed the red mark on my face, probably assuming I was self-harming. She quickly signed the leave form, granting me a week off, and told me to take time to relax. I took the slip, thanked her, and walked out of the school. There was no way I was going back to that nightmare of a class. 3 Everyone knew Vanessa was bullying me, but no one ever stepped in to help. I wasn’t some saint. I just wanted to get as far away from them as possible. Their survival wasn’t my concern. I walked out of the school gates and called for a taxi to take me home. My dad may have been an eccentric fortune teller, but he had helped countless wealthy executives. These people were all generous with their money. Over the years, my dad had saved up a small fortune for me. When I got home, I pulled out the two savings books he’d given me before he passed away. One was the dowry he’d been putting aside for me, and the other was a hefty life insurance policy he had taken out, which would pay me $10 million after his death. Together, the two accounts amounted to $17 million. At his funeral, all kinds of people came to pay their respects. Many of them owed their success to my father’s guidance. Seeing I was now alone, they decided to band together and set up an education fund for me. At first, I didn’t want to accept the money, but they insisted. Now, I was grateful. They’d given me $300,000. I looked around at the modest house. It wasn’t big, but it was in the heart of Ridgewood, so it was worth a fortune. A city center home was no longer safe. I had to sell it and find somewhere safer. I quickly contacted a real estate agency and asked them to sell the house within three days, even if it meant lowering the price. Next up was finding a safe place to lay low. 4 I took out my phone and searched for homes in the rural areas outside the city. I figured the farther I was from people, the fewer zombies there would be. While browsing listings, I stumbled upon something interesting: an old abandoned Cold War bunker was up for sale. I didn’t hesitate. I decided to buy it immediately. It was huge, naturally cool in the summer and warm in the winter, and way cheaper than any small suburban house! I contacted the seller and told him I wanted to buy it on the spot. I needed to inspect it immediately. To avoid raising suspicion, I lied, saying I wanted to convert it into a weekend retreat and asked him to keep it a secret. He seemed convinced by my enthusiasm and assured me no one else would find out. We quickly signed the contract. With 29 days left until the outbreak, I had found my safe house. Now, I just needed to fill it with supplies. For the next two days, I worked non-stop, furnishing my new bunker. Paranoia set in, so I made sure to contact the largest construction market in the next city and gave them strict instructions. I replaced the bunker’s entrance with the best security doors available—three layers thick. I hired workers to build a two-story house inside the bunker, to be completed within 10 days, with the finest materials available. The foreman gave me a confused look, so I lied again, telling him I was building a private luxury hotel to ensure my guests’ privacy. I paid him so well that he didn’t ask any more questions. He just shook his head and said, “Rich people sure know how to have fun.” In my past life, I died early, so I didn’t know how long the apocalypse would last. To make sure I survived this time, I started stockpiling supplies like crazy. I ordered 50 solar-powered batteries in case the power went out. Cooking was another issue, so I bought 100 gas canisters and a stove. To be safe, I bought 50 boxes of charcoal. While the bunker was being renovated, I focused on buying essential supplies, self-defense items, and things to pass the time. Sitting in my room, I made a list of everything I needed. Toilet paper runs out faster than you think, so I ordered 2,000 rolls. 200 boxes of tampons, too. Since I wouldn’t be going out once the zombies arrived, I bought five sets of pajamas for each season. I stocked up on underwear, laundry detergent, toothpaste, toothbrushes, shampoo, body wash, face wash, and skincare products, enough to last me three years. Satisfied with my list, I finally fell asleep, planning to head to the wholesale market first thing in the morning. 5 On the third day after my rebirth, I woke up and immediately checked the time on my phone. I was still paranoid that this might all be a dream. Seeing the date reassured me. I quickly got dressed and headed to the wholesale market. On my way, I stopped by my favorite breakfast place. I ordered my usual, savoring the taste. Who knew when I’d be able to enjoy something like this again? At the market, I bought everything on my list, instructing the merchants to deliver everything in a week. The owner’s face lit up at my large order, smiling from ear to ear. After I finished shopping, I got a call from the real estate agent. “Hello, Ms. Reed. I’m happy to inform you that we’ve found a buyer for your house.” “Can they pay in full?” I asked, getting straight to the point. I knew the house would sell quickly, but what I needed was cash. The agent’s voice was practically buzzing with excitement. “Yes, the buyer can pay the full amount upfront.” I sighed in relief. “Great. You handle the rest. I’ll move out within the week.” As soon as I hung up, my phone buzzed with a new text. The message was from an unknown number: “Chloe, don’t think you can escape just because you’re taking a break. I know where you live. You better come back soon. Without you, we don’t have anyone to pick on.” I didn’t need to guess. It was Vanessa. My body tensed with fear, my hand trembling as I held the phone. Vanessa always knew how to get under my skin. She said she knew my address, and for now, I had nowhere to hide. Remembering the school’s so-called “safe house” from my past life, I had an idea. I’d be back in a few days. Two days later, I had finalized the sale of my house. With that settled, I checked into a hotel for the time being and returned to school with some of my belongings. As expected, Vanessa “welcomed” me with one of her signature moves—garbage raining down on me as soon as I walked through the door. No one in the class helped. In fact, they found it amusing. They laughed, mocking my disheveled appearance. I clenched my fists and held it together. Their reckoning was coming, and soon. I made my way to my desk. Just before the bell rang, I picked up my backpack and walked out of the classroom. I knew they’d go and tell the teacher, but I didn’t care. I headed straight to the so-called “safe house,” which was really just the school auditorium. In my last life, this auditorium had been set up by emergency responders as a temporary shelter before they left to assist others. Only 80 of us survived in this very hall. I remembered how some of the teachers, desperate to reunite with their families, left and turned into zombies on the way home. Others stayed to help maintain order, working with the military. Flashes of those memories played in my mind. This was the place where they shoved me into the horde. I opened my backpack and pulled out ten hidden cameras I had purchased, discreetly setting them up in different corners of the auditorium. Once they were all in place, I left the school, satisfied. Just as I stepped outside, I got a call from the foreman handling the bunker renovations. He informed me that everything was done to my specifications and the place was spotless, ready for my inspection. I paid them well, so the work was done quickly and efficiently. I couldn’t help but think, Money really does solve everything. I called the manager at the wholesale market, letting him know they could deliver my supplies the next day. He practically jumped at the opportunity and assured me it would all be delivered on time. Next on my list was more furniture shopping. I headed to the furniture store and bought plenty of soft furnishings—top-quality sofas, beds, everything. Since the $1.2 million from the house sale was now in my account, I had no problem splurging on what I needed. Afterward, I stopped by an electronics store and bought two laptops, three tablets, and fifty portable chargers. Feeling accomplished, I took a cab straight to the bunker. As I stepped into the bunker, I marveled at the work. Money really can buy anything. I was beyond pleased with the results. I even gave each worker an extra $1,000 as a bonus. They seemed surprised and insisted they were just doing their job. Before they left, I couldn’t resist giving them a small warning. “Hey, with the pandemic and everything going on, it might be a good idea to stock up on some essentials. I heard the next town over is seeing a resurgence of cases.” I said it casually, looking off in the distance like it was no big deal. I couldn’t save everyone. In my last life, I died because of people. This time, I was saving myself. After the renovation crew left, the deliveries from the wholesale and furniture stores arrived. I used the same cover story to explain the massive amount of supplies being delivered, and no one questioned me. Once everything was inside and organized, I felt a wave of calm wash over me. 6 With 10 days left until the zombie outbreak, I knew it was time to stock up on long-lasting supplies. Fresh produce could wait until later. As I headed down the hill, I noticed two small dogs trailing behind me, their tails wagging excitedly. Looking at their playful, curious faces, I thought maybe adopting them would be a good idea. It might add a bit of joy to this otherwise grim existence. I called them over, and the little ones ran right up to me—one black, one white. They were so small I could easily carry one in each hand. After settling them into their new home, I headed straight to the largest market in town. This market had everything—whatever you could think of in terms of food and essentials, they had it. And the best part? No one cared how much you bought. It was exactly what I needed. I bought 50 cases of instant noodles, 100 cases of soda, 10 cases each of various canned goods, 100 bags of rice, 50 jugs of cooking oil, 10 cases of dehydrated vegetables, 20 bottles of each type of seasoning, plus tons of flour, pasta, and peanuts. Then came the fun part—snacks. I grabbed 20 bags each of almond milk, black sesame paste, milk, and yogurt. For treats, I loaded up on chocolate, nuts, sunflower seeds, chips, jerky, dried beef, and fruit snacks, ten cases of each. Of course, I couldn’t forget the dogs. I ordered 50 large bags of dog food, 20 cans of puppy formula, and 5 cases of other dog treats. I watched in satisfaction as the vendors loaded everything onto two large trucks. I instructed the drivers to head straight to the bunker. Fortunately, my cover story worked, and no one questioned the enormous order. Once everything was delivered, I felt a sense of calm. The supplies were all safely inside, and the bunker doors were tightly shut. As a final precaution, I decided to install additional cameras outside, just in case anything unexpected happened. With everything finally in order, I lay down on the bed and took a deep breath, finally able to relax. While the power and internet were still working, I signed up for every streaming service I could and downloaded all my favorite shows, along with ones I hadn’t watched yet, onto my laptops, tablets, and USB drives. Just as I was about to drift off to sleep, my phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID—it was Vanessa. I answered the call with a blank expression. The moment I answered, I heard her mocking laughter, like she was showing off to someone. “See? I told you she wouldn’t dare ignore me.” I stayed silent. Her voice grew even more smug. “Chloe, did you forget the message I sent you? You forget what it feels like to get your ass beat?” I listened quietly, clenching my fist, but kept my cool. It wasn’t time yet. I needed to wait until they were truly desperate before I struck back. When I didn’t respond, Vanessa grew frustrated. “You think you can just stay quiet? Don’t forget, I’ve got dirt on you, b****!” That was it. I couldn’t hold back anymore. “Vanessa, have you forgotten you’re 18 now? Everything you’ve done is a criminal offense. One call to the cops and you’re done.” My voice was cold and steady. 7 Vanessa had repeated a grade. She should’ve been a senior by now, but because of her terrible grades, she was held back. To save face, she took a year off, so now, at 18, she was still a freshman. Hearing my words, Vanessa stammered a bit but quickly raised her voice to save face. “You think you’re so tough? You don’t know who you’re messing with! I’ll post your photos in the group chat!” “Do it,” I challenged. “We’ll meet at the police station after that.” I hung up before she could respond. She wouldn’t post the photos. Bullies like her were all bark and no bite when it came to facing real consequences. She understood the reality of her being 18 now. She was scared, and I knew she wouldn’t follow through. The photos Vanessa had were from when she and her gang dragged me into the bathroom, beat me, tore off my clothes, and took the most humiliating pictures they could. Back then, I was too afraid to fight back. I was alone, no family to turn to. But with the zombie outbreak on the horizon, fear was a thing of the past. Thinking back to that day, I couldn’t help but cry. Sensing my distress, the two little dogs came over, gently licking my face. Their presence calmed me, and I quickly fell asleep. The next day, I woke up knowing it was time for my final round of shopping. I returned to the market and bought a whole cow, two pigs, thirty chickens, twenty ducks, and an assortment of frozen fish and seafood. When the butcher delivered everything, I stocked my two massive freezers to the brim, feeling completely satisfied. Now, all that was left to do was wait. 8 On the second day in the bunker, with just five days left until the outbreak, I got a call from Mrs. Miller, my homeroom teacher. I hesitated but decided to answer. Her voice was gentle, cautious. “Chloe, are you feeling any better?” I could tell she was worried about my emotional state. Rubbing my nose, I responded, “I’m doing much better, but I’d like to take another week off. I’ll study from home.” She quickly jumped in. “No, no, Chloe. I’m not worried about your grades. I care more about how you’re feeling. It’s okay to take a break and focus on yourself.” Her concern hit me hard, and my throat tightened with emotion. Since my dad’s death, no one had shown this kind of care for me. My relatives kept their distance, worried I’d become a burden. With a slight sniffle, I replied, “Thank you, Mrs. Miller. I’ll work on taking care of myself.” She sighed in relief, her voice soft. “Good. Just rest at home, and if you need anything, don’t hesitate to reach out. I’ll let you go now.” “Wait!” I blurted out before she could hang up. “What is it?” I hesitated. “Mrs. Miller, with everything going on, it might be a good idea to stock up on food. Just in case.” She chuckled lightly. “I’ll take your advice, Chloe. Thank you.” After we hung up, I turned my attention to the remaining cameras I hadn’t yet installed. Even with the reinforced doors, you could never be too careful. I decided to place them at the front entrance, so I could keep an eye on anything—or anyone—approaching. The little dogs followed closely as I stepped outside to install the cameras. Once the cameras were set up, I did another inventory check of my supplies. And that’s when I realized—I hadn’t stocked up on water. I nearly panicked at the oversight. Looking around the empty landscape, I wondered if it was possible to dig a well. I immediately called the same foreman who had helped with the bunker, asking him about it. He assured me it was doable and would only take a day. With time running out, I offered him extra money to get the job done as quickly as possible. Three hours later, the crew arrived with their equipment. The foreman smiled as he set up. “This won’t take long, but it’s going to be loud.” I waved off his concerns. “Don’t worry about the noise. I’m in a hurry, just get it done.” The team quickly got to work, and I stood by, watching. I couldn’t help but feel a strange fascination with the machinery. It wasn’t just boys who found this stuff cool—girls could too. Max and Bella, however, were terrified of the noise and ran inside to hide. By 11:30 that night, water started flowing from the well. I couldn’t help but laugh in relief. The foreman even placed stones around the well and installed a proper cover for me. I tipped him generously, and with a grin, he waved and left. Once he was gone, I settled into life in the bunker. Today, steak. Tomorrow, lamb. I was living the life. But as time passed, fear crept back in. Even though I had survived the last zombie massacre, I couldn’t shake the dread that came with knowing what was about to happen. 9 The day before the zombie outbreak, a video titled “Real-Life Train to Busan” suddenly trended online. But within less than a minute, it was taken down. I knew this was the government’s way of trying to keep the public calm. My hands started to tremble, and a cold chill ran through my body. Sensing that something was wrong, the two little pups came over and nuzzled my hands. Their warmth slowly brought me back to reality. I opened the feed from the cameras I had set up in the school’s safe house, just to check if anyone had entered yet, and what I saw made my stomach turn. It was evening, during study hall, and Vanessa and a senior boy walked into the school auditorium. I knew this boy all too well. In my previous life, he was the one who shoved me out into the crowd of zombies. I could never forget his face. But what made it worse was that I remembered this boy, Jason, had a girlfriend. His girlfriend knew Vanessa too. They used to be in the same grade, but Vanessa got held back and was now two years behind them. As soon as they stepped into the auditorium, Jason pinned Vanessa against the door, and they immediately started making out. The spot where they were standing happened to be right in front of one of the hidden cameras I’d installed. Their movements became more heated, and soon, the sounds coming from the camera were disgusting. I almost gagged. I’d always known Vanessa was vile, but I didn’t expect this. Doing something this repulsive, in the school, no less. Despite my nausea, I kept the camera rolling, recording the whole thing. Then, I heard their conversation. Vanessa, breathless, asked, “Did you… did you tell that b**** yet?” Jason, sounding greedy and impatient, replied, “Her family’s rich. I’m keeping her around for that.” They continued their sleazy activities, but the noise finally stopped. Vanessa, lying in Jason’s arms, let out a satisfied sigh, “Good. I was worried you actually had feelings for her.” Jason kissed her, clearly irritated, “No way. She doesn’t have your body, and she’s stuck up. It’s only because she’s loaded. Otherwise, I wouldn’t bother with her.” Listening to their whispers made me feel sick all over again. I edited the video, making sure to capture all the worst parts. To destroy someone, death wasn’t enough. Letting them die would be too easy. With 12 hours left until the outbreak, I sat comfortably on my bed, watching the news. At the 10-hour mark, reports came in from the neighboring city. Zombies were starting to emerge from hiding, but our town was still quiet. With 8 hours remaining, every student and teacher at Ridgewood High received a video on their phones—everyone except Vanessa, Jason, and their friends. At the 6-hour mark, Vanessa arrived at school. Her classmates gave her dirty looks, and people whispered as she walked by, pointing and smirking. By the 5-hour mark, Vanessa was fuming. “Who the hell filmed this?!” That’s when she got a text: Vanessa, enjoying yourself? At the 4-hour mark, the principal stormed into our classroom, his face red with anger. “Vanessa Gray! Get to my office! And call your parents—now!” By the 3-hour mark, Vanessa found Jason in the auditorium, panicked, “Jason, what do we do?” Jason snapped at her, his face twisted with annoyance. “Why the hell are you here? Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” Vanessa, seeing his reaction, became furious. “Jason! You sure enjoyed yourself when we were doing it! Now you’re turning on me?” Their argument grew louder and more heated. Then, Jason’s girlfriend, Madison, walked over, her face twisted in a mocking smile. “So this is the trash you’ve been with? Pathetic.” Her words weren’t outright vicious, but they dripped with humiliation. Vanessa’s face turned pale, then red with rage. With only 1 hour until the outbreak, a man in hiking gear appeared on a street in the city center. His movements were slow and jerky as he stumbled toward the nearest person. 10 At first, no one noticed him. Until… he staggered toward a girl at the bus stop, listening to music while waiting for her ride, and bit into her neck. That’s when people saw his face. His eyes were clouded, with no pupils, just pale blue sclera. His skin was marbled with dark, bulging veins. He let out a horrifying scream, his teeth jagged like chainsaw blades, sending people running in all directions. He tore into the girl’s neck, ripping and swallowing chunks of her flesh. Many people fled, but a few reckless ones stayed behind to record it on their phones. His body, now rejuvenated from feeding, moved faster. He sprinted toward one of the bystanders, sinking his teeth into the man’s skull. Meanwhile, the girl he had attacked earlier, now a bloody, exposed skeleton, started to stir. She shouldn’t have been able to move—yet she did. The zombie outbreak had officially begun. I sat in my safe house, watching everything unfold through multiple perspectives on my phone. 11 At the same time, back at the school, a bloodcurdling scream shattered the silence, bringing Vanessa and Jason’s argument to an abrupt halt. On the field, people who had collapsed moments before were rising again. Their movements were slow, but they marched in unison, heading toward the crowded classrooms. I switched to the camera feed from inside the auditorium. The school reacted quickly, moving some of the students and staff into the safe house. Among those evacuated were, of course, Vanessa and her lackeys, along with Jason. I scanned the faces on the camera, seeing the same people as in my previous life, except for one new face—a classmate of mine who, like me, had been a victim of Vanessa’s bullying. Chills ran down my spine. It hit me: my rebirth hadn’t changed anything. I may have escaped my fate, but now someone else was paying the price. Just like last time, the school distributed what little food they had to the survivors in the auditorium, telling them to wait for rescue. I couldn’t bear to watch as some of the teachers, desperate to see their families one last time, tried to leave the safe house. Some stayed behind to help, while others ran, only to meet their doom. This time, I wasn’t going to sit back and suffer. I had the power to protect myself, and I wasn’t about to let anyone else decide my fate.

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Zach’s childhood friend, Bella, created an influencer account. She took advantage of my absence, sneaked into my room, entered my computer password, and copied all of my paid freelance writings to her phone. Then, she posted everything online for free. Overnight, she gained thousands of followers. The next day, when I confronted her, she smirked, “Ava, did I make so much money that you can’t even afford food anymore?” Zachary walked into the room while I was in the middle of a heated argument with Bella. To be fair, it wasn’t much of an argument—Bella was the only one talking. I realized she was acting completely irrational, like someone out of a psychiatric ward, and reasoning with her was impossible. “If you can make money writing freelance, why can’t I run an influencer account?” “Ava, did I make so much money that you can’t even afford food anymore?” I started off furious, but my anger slowly faded as I listened to her insane ranting. It was like dealing with someone unhinged. Bella had been Zach’s neighbor when they were kids. According to him, she was a sweet, innocent little sister figure who moved to Los Angeles after graduation to start her job. Since she didn’t know many people in the city, Zach suggested she stay with us temporarily until her internship ended. “Ava, it’s only for three months. Just think of it as doing me a favor.” At first, I didn’t agree. I mean, who wants to live with a stranger? But then I thought about my own early days in LA, feeling lost and overwhelmed. If I could help someone avoid that struggle, why not? After all, it was just three months. I didn’t even charge her rent, but I ended up inviting trouble into my home. One time, Bella’s laptop broke, and she was desperate to finish a project. She was crying, and I felt sorry for her, so I lent her my computer. I never bothered to change the password afterward, and that’s when the trouble started. When Zach arrived, Bella instantly transformed from a venomous snake into a sweet, innocent girl. She lowered her damp eyelashes and sniffled, “Zach, there are lots of influencer accounts out there. Why is Ava so upset with me? Doesn’t she love influencer marketing?” Zach stood there silently for a moment, a frown creasing his brow. “Normally, influencer accounts don’t post entire articles from the original writers. That’s…,” he hesitated, searching for the right words, “… pretty impolite.” I almost laughed. Immoral and impolite? Are those the same thing now? Bella hung her head. “Alright, I was wrong.” She took a deep breath and then raised her face back to that fake, sweet expression. “How about I treat you both to dinner? Consider it an apology to Ava.” An apology? Who does she think she’s fooling? Sitting back on the couch, I smiled and said, “Bella, first, you need to delete all the videos you posted. Then, you need to return the money you made from your posts. And finally, issue a public apology.” “That’s what an apology looks like.” Bella looked at me in disbelief, her voice rising in frustration. “Ava, you’re going too far!” Going too far? I almost laughed. I calmly pulled up my phone’s photo album and handed it to her, showing her a video. Bella’s face immediately froze. Zach, still clueless about what was happening, came over to take a look. Within minutes, his expression darkened, disappointment etched across his face as he stared at Bella. The video showed everything Bella had done in my room when I wasn’t home. She didn’t just steal my work; she wore my clothes, used my skincare products, spat on my bedsheets and pillows, and even swiped some of my jewelry. I had suspected Bella for a while, but without proof, there wasn’t much I could do. It didn’t take long for my new security camera, installed just three days ago, to capture all her antics. It’s always the ones closest to you. Bella blushed, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at Zach. “I… I didn’t…” But she couldn’t even finish her sentence. Furious and flustered, she grabbed my phone and deleted the video, then tossed the phone onto the couch, glaring at me defiantly. I smiled, amused by her misplaced sense of victory. “It’s fine, Bella. I’ve got plenty of backup videos. If you don’t meet my demands, I’ll just take this to the police. After all, theft is theft, and the evidence is solid.” I paused for effect and then added, “The Tiffany & Co. necklace you stole isn’t worth that much. But having a criminal record over it? That might be a bit too much to handle, don’t you think?” Bella’s face flushed red with shame. After some hesitation, she finally gave in, deleting the videos, returning the money she had made from the influencer account, and posting a public apology. As for the Tiffany necklace, Bella claimed she had already listed it on Facebook Marketplace for three hundred bucks. … Well, no big deal. She’d just pay me back the original price.

Here’s the fully localized translation of the passage into the U.S./American context: Zach’s childhood friend, Bella, created an influencer account. She took advantage of my absence, sneaked into my room, entered my computer password, and copied all of my paid freelance writings to her phone. Then, she posted everything online for free. Overnight, she gained thousands of followers. The next day, when I confronted her, she smirked, “Ava, did I make so much money that you can’t even afford food anymore?” 1 Zachary walked into the room while I was in the middle of a heated argument with Bella. To be fair, it wasn’t much of an argument—Bella was the only one talking. I realized she was acting completely irrational, like someone out of a psychiatric ward, and reasoning with her was impossible. “If you can make money writing freelance, why can’t I run an influencer account?” “Ava, did I make so much money that you can’t even afford food anymore?” I started off furious, but my anger slowly faded as I listened to her insane ranting. It was like dealing with someone unhinged. Bella had been Zach’s neighbor when they were kids. According to him, she was a sweet, innocent little sister figure who moved to Los Angeles after graduation to start her job. Since she didn’t know many people in the city, Zach suggested she stay with us temporarily until her internship ended. “Ava, it’s only for three months. Just think of it as doing me a favor.” At first, I didn’t agree. I mean, who wants to live with a stranger? But then I thought about my own early days in LA, feeling lost and overwhelmed. If I could help someone avoid that struggle, why not? After all, it was just three months. I didn’t even charge her rent, but I ended up inviting trouble into my home. One time, Bella’s laptop broke, and she was desperate to finish a project. She was crying, and I felt sorry for her, so I lent her my computer. I never bothered to change the password afterward, and that’s when the trouble started. When Zach arrived, Bella instantly transformed from a venomous snake into a sweet, innocent girl. She lowered her damp eyelashes and sniffled, “Zach, there are lots of influencer accounts out there. Why is Ava so upset with me? Doesn’t she love influencer marketing?” Zach stood there silently for a moment, a frown creasing his brow. “Normally, influencer accounts don’t post entire articles from the original writers. That’s…,” he hesitated, searching for the right words, “… pretty impolite.” I almost laughed. Immoral and impolite? Are those the same thing now? Bella hung her head. “Alright, I was wrong.” She took a deep breath and then raised her face back to that fake, sweet expression. “How about I treat you both to dinner? Consider it an apology to Ava.” An apology? Who does she think she’s fooling? Sitting back on the couch, I smiled and said, “Bella, first, you need to delete all the videos you posted. Then, you need to return the money you made from your posts. And finally, issue a public apology.” “That’s what an apology looks like.” Bella looked at me in disbelief, her voice rising in frustration. “Ava, you’re going too far!” Going too far? I almost laughed. I calmly pulled up my phone’s photo album and handed it to her, showing her a video. Bella’s face immediately froze. Zach, still clueless about what was happening, came over to take a look. Within minutes, his expression darkened, disappointment etched across his face as he stared at Bella. The video showed everything Bella had done in my room when I wasn’t home. She didn’t just steal my work; she wore my clothes, used my skincare products, spat on my bedsheets and pillows, and even swiped some of my jewelry. I had suspected Bella for a while, but without proof, there wasn’t much I could do. It didn’t take long for my new security camera, installed just three days ago, to capture all her antics. It’s always the ones closest to you. Bella blushed, tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at Zach. “I… I didn’t…” But she couldn’t even finish her sentence. Furious and flustered, she grabbed my phone and deleted the video, then tossed the phone onto the couch, glaring at me defiantly. I smiled, amused by her misplaced sense of victory. “It’s fine, Bella. I’ve got plenty of backup videos. If you don’t meet my demands, I’ll just take this to the police. After all, theft is theft, and the evidence is solid.” I paused for effect and then added, “The Tiffany & Co. necklace you stole isn’t worth that much. But having a criminal record over it? That might be a bit too much to handle, don’t you think?” Bella’s face flushed red with shame. After some hesitation, she finally gave in, deleting the videos, returning the money she had made from the influencer account, and posting a public apology. As for the Tiffany necklace, Bella claimed she had already listed it on Facebook Marketplace for three hundred bucks. … Well, no big deal. She’d just pay me back the original price. 2 When Bella finally moved out, she couldn’t resist throwing one last jab at me, saying I was “obsessed with money.” I lazily glanced at her, unimpressed. “Well, it’s better than being obsessed with bad decisions.” She glared at me, clearly running out of things to say. It wasn’t long before she posted on Instagram Stories. The picture showed her standing on a balcony at sunset, gazing dreamily into the distance, her hair blowing in the wind. The caption read: “Grateful for my brother’s help. Excited for what the future holds.” I knew that balcony. It was Zach’s. The sick feeling in my stomach made me shiver. Gross. Why did he even send this idiot my way in the first place? What a joke. I sent Zach a text, asking what the hell was going on. A few minutes later, he called, sounding nervous. “Ava, Bella had to move out quickly. It’s hard to find a place, and I couldn’t just let her be homeless.” His words felt like an accusation, like I shouldn’t have kicked her out. I’ve heard of guilt-tripping before, but never like this. I asked, “Are you seriously telling me there are no hotels in Los Angeles?” Zach sighed. “It’s not safe for a young girl to stay in a hotel. Ava, Bella is young and made some mistakes, but she knows she was wrong. Can’t you just let it go?” I was speechless. One of them steals things, the other one twists reality. They truly deserve each other. “Zach, Bella may be five years younger than me, but I wasn’t doing any of that at her age. And I definitely wasn’t living in another woman’s boyfriend’s house.” I paused for a second before continuing, “Let’s break up.” The silence on the other end was deafening. I hung up the phone without waiting for a response. Honestly, I’d been planning to end things for a while now. Bella ended up paying me back the five grand she owed. I had a pretty good idea of who really paid it, but I didn’t care. As long as the money made it into my account, I was happy. As for Zach? He wasn’t worth keeping around. We had met through our parents. His dad and mine had gone to school together and realized during a reunion that both of their kids were living in LA and single, so they exchanged our numbers. After a while, Zach and I started dating. At first, he seemed like a hidden gem—quiet, serious, and occasionally showing flashes of brilliance. But this whole mess showed me the truth: he wasn’t a gem at all, just shattered glass—ugly, broken, and useless. I know nobody’s perfect. I could deal with Zach being passive and indecisive. But I couldn’t handle him doing nothing while I was being attacked. Even when faced with evidence, he never once stood up for me. Like a piece of rotting wood stuck in the mud, impossible to shape, impossible to rely on. And most of all, I couldn’t handle his loyalty shifting towards another woman. Dense? Maybe. Biased? Definitely. But I wasn’t going to waste my life on a man like that. After the breakup, Zach tried calling me repeatedly, even sending long, emotional texts. I didn’t bother reading any of them. I just blocked him. One night, I got a call from an unknown number. The person on the other end was clearly drunk and slurred, “Ava, did you… did you really… get with some rich guy?” I paused, feeling both annoyed and amused. “Nope, just not interested in guys who can’t measure up, in any sense of the word.” Zach was silent for a moment before angrily hanging up. He knew why we broke up, but admitting his mistakes was hard. Blaming others? So much easier. Recently, I’d taken on a new project, and the whole team had been working non-stop, burning the candle at both ends. Finally, after two exhausting weeks, we were done. I stretched in the office, feeling the satisfaction of a job well done. The year-end bonus was all but mine. Suddenly, my phone buzzed. It was Sienna, sending me a photo. It showed Zach and Bella at a fancy restaurant, looking way too cozy, staring into each other’s eyes with enough passion to make anyone nauseous. Sienna added, “Girl, you dodged a bullet! That guy moved on so fast it makes me sick!” Honestly, I felt nothing. My emotions were as calm as if I were looking at a couple of strangers on the street. I replied, “Doesn’t matter. The ones who want to leave can’t be stopped. The ones who stay won’t go anywhere.” As I wandered through the city streets, the night breeze cooled the last traces of summer warmth, whisking away the remnants of a relationship that no longer mattered. At least, that’s how I saw it.

The project wrapped up beautifully, and the boss, understanding how hard the team had worked, gave us a few extra days off to rest after we finished the final touches. I had been completely exhausted, so I was sound asleep at home when a sudden knocking at the door startled me awake. I opened it to find Zachary standing there. His eyes were bloodshot, his face flushed, and the strong smell of alcohol hit me as he leaned against the doorframe, looking down at me with a crooked smile. “Ava, long time no see.” I eyed him warily. “What are you doing here?” Zach didn’t answer. Instead, he tried to step inside, but he was too drunk, his whole body slack like a pile of dead weight. Without hesitation, I kicked him right out the door. I slammed it shut behind him. From outside, I could hear Zach’s voice, hoarse and repetitive, like a dog barking. He kept yelling, begging me to open the door, to talk to him, to give him another chance. People show their true selves when they’re drunk, and Zach, who had always seemed like the quiet, decent type, was really just a player at heart. I couldn’t help but feel thankful that I got out when I did. It was 11:30 p.m., and all my neighbors were probably asleep. Zach’s raspy voice echoed down the hall, shattering the peace. “If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the cops!” I shouted through the door. There was a brief silence, followed by a dismissive scoff. “Ha! I don’t believe you.” Fifteen minutes later, the police arrived. By the time Bella showed up to collect him, Zach had sobered up enough to be quiet, his head hanging in shame. Bella, on the other hand, glared at me with open hatred, her voice dripping with disdain. “Ava, are you some kind of witch? Why can’t you leave my boyfriend alone? Why do you keep haunting us?” I couldn’t help but laugh. “If your boyfriend wasn’t showing up at my door in the middle of the night, begging me to take him back, do you think we’d be in this situation?” “You…!” Bella’s lips trembled as she shot Zach a disappointed look, then turned back to me with venom in her eyes. “Don’t kid yourself. He’s only here because you took so much money from him, and he came to get it back!” I froze for a second. The police officer raised an eyebrow. “Took money?” Bella snatched Zach’s phone from his hand and scrolled through the messages and transactions. She shoved the phone in my face, showing a list of all the money Zach had spent on me over the past six months: holiday gifts, dinner tabs, plane tickets, hotel bookings—every little thing. “Ava, now that you and Zach are over, don’t you think you should return everything he bought for you? Stop mooching off my boyfriend!” The officer’s expression was hard to read, somewhere between sympathy and disbelief. He looked at me, unsure whether to feel sorry for me or relieved that I’d dodged a bullet. I shook my head with a wry smile. Then, I pulled out my own receipts—fancy belts, watches, wallets, and more that I’d bought for Zach. “Fine, let’s settle this, then. We’ll add everything up.” The comparison didn’t even require a calculator. It was obvious who had spent more on whom. Bella was livid, especially when she realized Zach was still wearing the suit and shoes I had bought him. Her face flushed an angry, deep red. She exhaled sharply and sneered, “So, you’ve been paying for him all along?” Finally, Zach spoke up, nodding in my direction with a defeated look. “Yeah, she paid for everything.” At that moment, I had no interest in continuing this ridiculous conversation. Looking at them was like looking at a disaster waiting to happen. I didn’t want to waste any more energy. I accepted the officer’s suggestion for mediation and, before leaving, requested a copy of the police report. As I stepped out into the early morning light, the streetlights were already starting to dim, and the night sky was giving way to dawn. Bella had thrown Zach’s shoes and jacket into a nearby trash can. He stood there on the curb, shivering in his socks and shirt, waiting for a ride. As I walked past, I heard Bella muttering under her breath, all of her words aimed at me. It was clear that Zach had come to me on his own, yet somehow, Bella twisted everything to make me the villain. Whether she was fooling herself or completely clueless, I had no idea.

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“Ethan, Valentine’s Day is so lonely by myself. Why don’t you come and keep me company?” My husband immediately took a screenshot and sent it to the Family WhatsApp Group, followed by reporting her on social media. I stood there, jaw dropping, not able to say a word before Ethan’s warm body wrapped around me again. “That doesn’t count, I haven’t shown my true strength yet,” he said, playfully pinning me down. As soon as the screenshot hit the Family WhatsApp Group, it exploded. Sabrina Rivers, my third cousin, chimed in sarcastically: “Look at Madison, shameless as always!” My brother, Zach Rivers, tagged Madison with a cold laugh: “Madison, you’re disgusting! Try to steal my sister’s man again and I swear I’ll ruin you!” Thanks for the reminder. Of course, it had to be brought up. Madison and I never got along, and she always had a habit of taking my things. But I never thought she’d stoop so low as to throw her body into the mix. Two years ago, Liam Carter and I had gone home to introduce him to my parents to discuss marriage, but Madison seduced him. I caught them in bed together. Two years later, she’s trying the same old tricks! But Ethan Cross is no Liam Carter. Her little game won’t work on him! While I was thinking about it, Ethan leaned in close and whispered, “How are you feeling, babe? Was that enough payback?” Ethan and I were always very open with each other, and he knew everything about me. I smiled. “Yeah, that was pretty satisfying!” Just imagining Madison pulling out her hair in frustration had me feeling gleeful. “But…” I waved my hand. “Let’s not celebrate too soon.” Sure enough, right after I said that, my dad called. As soon as I picked up, he started yelling, “Ava! Are you trying to kill your sister? Get in that group chat and explain yourself!” I chuckled in disbelief. “Explain what? That she was prowling around in the middle of the night, trying to seduce my husband?” He was silent for a second. Then angrily, “Nonsense! She just lost a game! Now get in there and clear it up!” As he spoke, I could hear Madison crying in the background, people comforting her. I rolled my eyes and sneered, “Sure thing.” Since she wanted to ruin my Valentine’s Day, nobody was going to have a good time. I hung up the phone and immediately opened up Mr. Mason’s contact. Conveniently, he’d been trying to partner with CrossTech Enterprises, and I just happened to be in charge of the project. Madison worked for him. I sent the message. Within minutes, he replied: “Apologies, Ms. Rivers. I’ll handle this immediately and make sure you’re satisfied with the outcome.” It didn’t even take 30 minutes. He messaged me again with the result: Madison had been fired. I thought she might have learned her lesson, but no—she dared to pull more stunts that same night!

It was late, and I was half asleep when Ethan’s phone kept buzzing. I was about to put it on silent when I saw it was Madison. Suddenly, I was wide awake. She had sent him a photo of herself in a flimsy nightgown, with tears streaming down her face. She looked so pitiful. “Sorry, Ethan. I lost a party game. I didn’t know Ava would be so petty and share the screenshots with everyone and then complain to Mr. Mason, which got me fired.” “I know she’s still hung up on Liam. That’s why she hates me. I’ll give Liam back to her if she stops coming after me, okay?” I shook Ethan awake, fuming. “Look at this!” “Unbelievable,” Ethan muttered after reading it, rolling his eyes. He quickly started typing a response. “Madison, you love throwing yourself at men. You didn’t get fired for nothing. CrossTech doesn’t hire chickens, so you shouldn’t be surprised.” “And what’s Liam worth? He’s trash. You love him so much, you can keep him. You two are made for each other.” Without waiting for a response, Ethan blocked her. I grinned and kissed him on the cheek as a reward. The next day, after replying to messages from friends who were concerned about the drama, I headed to work. I was feeling a bit tired after a long day when Ethan came home. “Babe, I missed you,” he said, dropping his briefcase and wrapping his arms around me from behind, nuzzling my neck. I was about to scold him playfully when I caught a whiff of a familiar scent. Madison’s perfume. My face changed immediately. “Did Madison come to see you?” “Yes, but I didn’t meet with her! The smell must’ve gotten on me by accident,” he said, trying to reassure me. Ethan’s face twisted with disgust. “Your cousin is out of her mind. She was waiting by my car and literally threw herself at me. I kicked her to the ground!” “Pfft~” The image of Ethan kicking Madison made me laugh out loud. “As long as you’re not mad,” Ethan sighed with relief. “I’m not mad at you,” I said softly. I wasn’t angry with Ethan. I was just disgusted by Madison’s shamelessness. “If I had known she rubbed off on me, I would’ve thrown out these clothes,” he said, tossing his jacket in the trash before heading upstairs to take a shower. As I was getting dinner ready, my phone kept buzzing. Sabrina Rivers: Ava, check Instagram! Did you get cheated on again?! What?!

I narrowed my eyes and opened Instagram. There it was, trending locally. Shocking! CEO of CrossTech Enterprises caught in a parking lot tryst with a mysterious woman! The photos were crystal clear. Ethan was lowering his head, and Madison was looking up at him with a soft, flirty smile. From the angle, it looked like they were hugging—or worse, kissing. Knew the CEO’s wife was a looker, but wow, she’s stunning! Omg! They’re perfect together. I’m shipping this couple! Even some of Ethan’s business partners were congratulating them in the comments. And to make things worse, Madison had capitalized on the attention, posting a vague message on Instagram that only fueled the rumors further. I was furious. Right then, Ethan came running downstairs, not even fully dressed. “Babe! You believe me, right? It’s all a setup!” I sighed. “I know.” I never doubted him. We were both very private and had kept our marriage under the radar. No one knew I was his wife, which gave Madison the perfect opportunity to manipulate things. Ethan, now fully enraged, replied to the top comment: You can ship what you want, but let’s not get twisted. Then, he posted a photo of our wedding. Within minutes, CrossTech’s official Instagram blew up. This is the real wife! Look at them, they’re so sweet together! Told you, Ethan looked totally disgusted in that other photo. That girl was obviously trying to force herself on him! Some of the internet turned against Madison, while others attacked Ethan for getting involved in a scandal. But CrossTech’s PR team was fast. They found the parking lot footage, traced the source of the viral post, and uncovered that Madison had paid to have it promoted. Ethan didn’t lie—he had actually kicked her to the ground. When the footage dropped, I had to stifle a laugh seeing Madison fall. OMG, am I the only one who thinks Ethan kicking her looked kinda hot?! Ethan even liked that comment. Guys, take notes—this is how you deal with a scheming woman! Lol, Ethan’s face said, ‘Don’t touch me!’ I’m dying! The comments were overwhelmingly on our side. Madison was torn to shreds online and earned the nickname “Clinger.” She panicked and deleted her Instagram account overnight. But I wasn’t done with her yet. Everyone has to pay for what they’ve done.

I asked Sabrina for some information. Turns out, after Liam Carter went bankrupt, Madison dumped him. Even though she was the one who left him because he was broke, she spun the story to make it seem like it was my fault. I scoffed. “Shameless.” “Exactly! Ava, you think she’s about to make a move?” Sabrina asked excitedly. I nodded. She continued, “I’ve been waiting for this! Let me send you something—I want in on this too!” After the call, she sent me a recording. I laughed after listening. “Thanks, Sabrina! I owe you dinner.” I hadn’t even reached out to Liam when he showed up at my office! The next day, I received a bouquet of roses at work. I thought for sure it was Ethan being romantic. But when I saw Liam Carter standing there, I wanted to gouge my eyes out. “Ava, Madison told me you’ve always had feelings for me,” Liam said smugly, raising an eyebrow. Ha! I wondered how he had the nerve to show his face. Madison must have really brainwashed him into thinking I still cared. I glared at him silently. He mistook it for shyness and kept going, “After we broke up, I realized that you’re the one I truly love. Why don’t we just get back together?” “I don’t care that you’ve been married. But if we do tie the knot, you’d need to bring a house and a car as part of the deal. My parents would expect that.” He was acting like he was doing me a favor. It made me sick. Beyond delusional. I scowled. “Liam, I’m not interested in picking up trash.” Goosebumps covered my arms as I suppressed my disgust. “But I do have a little gift for you.” “A gift?” Liam looked eager. “You really think Liam is all that? If Ava hadn’t liked him back then, and if he hadn’t had some money, I never would’ve gone near him,” said Madison’s voice from the recording. “Who would want to marry a broke man like him? He’s got nothing left now—he’s dreaming if he thinks he’s going to marry me!” Her words echoed through the office, loud enough for everyone to hear. I saw Liam’s face drain of color. So I smiled and said, “Weren’t you and Madison supposed to be in love? I guess it was all about the money, huh?” “I heard your family lost the house. You should ask for some of those gifts back from Madison. Maybe you can afford to live a little more comfortably.” As I twisted the knife, I knew I was turning him against Madison. Sure enough, his face turned dark as he stormed out of the office. Knowing how petty Liam was, there was no way he’d let Madison get away with making a fool of him. I called Ethan and asked him to join me for the show. By the time we arrived, Liam had Madison by the hair, slapping her face repeatedly. He hit her so hard, her face was swollen after just a few slaps. “You slut! You ruined everything for me! I could’ve had a happy life with Ava!” “This is all your fault! I’ll kill you!” He kicked her to the ground and stomped on her head. As Madison begged for mercy, she looked up just in time to see the disgust in Ethan’s eyes. And that was when she broke down, sobbing and whimpering. Watching her pathetic state, I almost couldn’t hold back my laughter. My parents showed up, called the cops, and that ended the spectacle. I heard they ended up taking each other to court. Madison accused Liam of assault, and Liam accused her of financial fraud. It was a true case of dog-eat-dog.

A week later, it was time for my brother Zach and his wife Tessa’s baby shower. My mom had been calling me non-stop, insisting that Ethan and I attend. My mom is one of those traditional women who believe a husband’s word is law. Whatever my dad says, she follows without question. If my dad hadn’t given her permission, I doubt she’d ever reach out to me on her own. Finally, the day of the baby shower arrived. We had just stepped out of the car when I saw Madison Rivers. Her eyes lit up when she saw Ethan, like a dog spotting a bone, her expression showing sheer determination. Despite the bruises that still marred her face, she had tried to cover them up with makeup, but it only made her look more like a swollen pig. I smirked silently and caught her shooting me a hateful glare. After playing with Grace, my niece, for a while, the time came for lunch. Just as I sat down, a sharp pain hit my stomach. Ethan noticed immediately and helped me upstairs to rest. We hadn’t even reached the top of the stairs when we heard… noises. Intimate noises. Familiar voices. And one of those voices… sounded a lot like my dad’s. Ethan and I exchanged shocked glances, our eyes wide with disbelief. Even though I was feeling sick, we stayed still outside the bathroom door, listening to the embarrassing and heated conversation happening inside. “No, Uncle! Don’t kiss me, someone might catch us!” It was Aunt Karen, my uncle Richard’s wife. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I stood there, frozen in place. Then I heard my father’s voice again. “Relax, no one’s going to find out.” It really was my dad. Even in his old age, he couldn’t resist cheating. I clenched my fists, trying to control my anger, and looked over at Ethan. He knew exactly what I wanted him to do—he pulled out his phone and started recording the conversation. The two of them kept going for a while until Aunt Karen let out a final, breathless sigh. Then, finally, they were done. Ethan and I quickly hid in a corner as they stepped out of the bathroom, still not caring to be discreet. Aunt Karen’s face was flushed, and there were kiss marks all over her neck. The audacity! I felt a surge of fury. How could they? Did they not remember how Uncle Richard had literally saved my dad’s life in that car accident? How could he betray him like this, and my mom too? I could feel my pulse racing, anger burning through me, and I almost forgot the pain in my stomach. Ethan, sensing my rage and my confusion about what to do, whispered, “You should rest for now. Maybe talk it over with Zach and Tessa later.” I nodded, unable to think of a better plan at the moment. By the time I woke up, it was already late evening. The guests had left, and Zach and Tessa were seeing her family off at the train station. Ethan and I were preparing to leave too when my dad stopped us. He insisted on having a private talk with Ethan, while my mom stayed close by, constantly hovering over me. I wanted to drop hints to my mom about what I’d discovered, to prepare her, but I didn’t want to cause a scene, so I agreed to stay a bit longer. I also wanted to see what Madison was up to. She had been suspiciously quiet all afternoon. “I’m going upstairs to rest,” I said, smiling sweetly. “You’ve got my old room ready, right?” Madison exhaled in relief and replied quickly, “Of course, Ava. It’s all set up for you.” “Mom, why don’t you come sit with me? You said you missed me, didn’t you?” I asked, hoping to get some alone time with her. For some reason, my mom looked guilty, avoiding my gaze. “I still have things to take care of. I’ll come find you later.” I narrowed my eyes slightly but nodded and headed upstairs. Her behavior was definitely strange. I stalled for a while, waiting until the coast was clear, then turned off the lights and quietly slipped back downstairs. I hid behind the door of the living room and listened in on their conversation. “So, what did you want to talk about, Mr. Rivers?” Ethan asked. My dad lit a cigarette, exhaling smoke slowly. “How did you and Ava meet?” Ethan answered him truthfully. As I listened to my parents ask Ethan about me, it almost felt like they were genuinely concerned. It warmed my heart a little. Maybe they did care about me after all. But then my mom spoke up. “Ethan, you’re a good man. Your uncle and I don’t want to hide the truth from you. The thing is, Ava… she’s not really good enough for you.” I froze. Ethan did too. “She was a wild child,” my mom continued. “In middle school, she used to hang around those boys and fool around. She even had a few abortions…” Hearing my mom say that hit me like a punch to the gut. I had always thought my parents just didn’t love me. But now, I realized it was much worse than that—they were spreading lies, trying to destroy me. The blood drained from my face. My hands went ice cold. How could they do this to their own daughter?

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I’m an on-call doctor in the Emergency Room. In the ER, you see all kinds of strange things. Once, we had a kid who stuffed a ball in her mouth and couldn’t get it out… But one night, something happened that I never could have imagined—the patient brought to the ER was my wife, and the reason she was there was unspeakable. It was late at night in the ER. I was yawning out of boredom, my eyes half-shut, and I was nearly asleep. “Dr. Rivers, we’ve got a patient!” The night nurse, Amber, rushed into the ER, her voice urgent. Instantly, I was wide awake. I wiped my face and stood up. “What’s the situation?” I asked hurriedly. “The patient, she… she…” Amber trailed off, looking uncomfortable. Seeing this, I didn’t ask any more questions. In the ER, I’ve seen my share of bizarre cases. But when the nurse wheeled the patient into the room, I froze. I never expected to see my wife in the ER. “Savannah!” My face went pale as I rushed over to her. Savannah’s face was white, and she had passed out completely. “Dr. Rivers, do you know her?” Amber asked, surprised. “She’s my wife,” I said without turning around, immediately beginning to examine her. There were no visible injuries on her face or body, but she was still unconscious. Internal injuries? My heart raced. Internal injuries can be even more serious than external ones. But when I checked her legs, I froze in shock. I knew what this was, immediately. The room spun for a second, and my breathing became rapid. I almost collapsed right there in the ER. Savannah and I had been married for two years. Our relationship was normal—we never explored anything out of the ordinary in bed. Savannah’s… back door was a place I’d never been, and we’d never used any… equipment like this. But now, it was clear that Savannah had passed out from a rectal tear.

Suddenly, I felt like I had been completely betrayed. There was no way Savannah had done this to herself. I stared at her in disbelief. “Dr. Rivers, what should we do now?” Amber asked, her expression uneasy. Her eyes were filled with mockery and judgment, or at least that’s how it felt to me. I took a deep breath and said grimly, “Prepare the anesthetic. We’re going to operate.” Amber quickly got to work, and soon handed me the anesthetic. I administered the drug to Savannah and removed the foreign object myself, suppressing my fury the entire time. I stitched up her injury, barely keeping my hands steady. “Take her to the Inpatient Ward,” I said, then stormed out of the ER. Outside, I stood alone and lit a cigarette. One after the other, I smoked, my mind filled with images of what I had just seen. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I felt like a complete fool. “Damn it!” I shouted, crushing the cigarette under my foot. Amber, who had followed me out, looked startled and quickly stopped talking. With a scowl, I barked at the rest of the staff, “Less talking, more working! Or are you all just standing around for fun?” They scattered at once. I went back inside to check on Savannah. She had already been transferred to the Inpatient Ward. I wanted to rush to her room and demand answers right then and there, but the ER couldn’t be left unattended. If a patient came in and I wasn’t there, the consequences could be severe. Common sense kept me at the hospital. As soon as my shift ended, I raced to the ward and found Savannah’s room. She was still unconscious from the anesthetic. I stood by her bedside, looking down at the woman I knew so well, but who suddenly felt like a stranger to me. I didn’t know how long I stood there before her eyelashes fluttered, and she opened her eyes. “Ethan?” Savannah looked at me in confusion. “Why am I here?” My eyes burned with fury. Panic flashed across her face. “Ethan, listen to me, this is all a misunderstanding!” she blurted, reaching for my hand. I yanked my hand away. “A misunderstanding? We’ve been married two years, and you wouldn’t even let me touch you there! But you’re out here doing this with someone else?” “Savannah! How could I have been so blind?” I was shouting at her now. Savannah burst into tears, crying, “Ethan, please, let me explain. It’s not what you think… it’s really not…” “Enough!” I cut her off, glaring at her with all the disgust I felt, and walked out of the room. “Ethan!” Savannah sobbed behind me, but my heart didn’t soften. She had betrayed me and made a fool of me in front of everyone. And now she had the nerve to cry? Back at home, I stared at the wedding photo hanging on the wall, feeling nothing but bitterness. My phone rang—it was Savannah. I hung up. She called again. I hung up once more. Finally, I turned off my phone. Out of sight, out of mind. I grabbed a case of beer from the fridge and started drinking, bottle after bottle. Soon enough, I had finished all twelve beers. I grabbed another case, but after only a few more bottles, I felt my stomach turn. I ran to the bathroom and threw up violently into the toilet. Then, I collapsed on the bathroom floor and passed out. “Ethan! Ethan! Wake up!” A voice shouted me awake. I opened my heavy eyes and saw a blurry figure standing over me. “Ethan, what the hell are you doing, drinking yourself to death?” The figure slapped my face lightly, helping me sit up. It was Landon, my best friend. “Landon? What are you doing here?” I slurred, my tongue thick with alcohol. Landon wrinkled his nose. “How much did you drink? You stink!” “Savannah called me. She couldn’t get ahold of you and asked me to come check on you.” 3. The moment I heard Savannah’s name, rage surged through me. I shouted, “She actually had the nerve to send you here? Get lost! Tell her to go to hell!” Landon stared at me in shock. He nudged my arm and asked, “Ethan, what the hell is going on? I thought you and Savannah were good?” My face, already flushed from the alcohol, darkened even more. “She cheated.” “What? Savannah cheated?” Landon’s disbelief was written all over his face. I let out a bitter laugh. “You don’t believe it? Hell, I didn’t either!” “But she was sent to my ER, Landon. How could I not believe it?” I ran my hands through my hair, feeling the frustration and pain deep in my bones, my eyes bloodshot. “What exactly happened? Tell me everything.” Clenching my teeth, I told Landon the whole story, every painful detail. When I was done, Landon’s mouth hung open for a moment before he sighed and patted me on the shoulder. “So, what’s your plan? Are you getting a divorce?” I looked down, my voice full of bitterness, “What else? You think I’m going to wait around?” Landon hesitated, then said, “Look, is it possible there’s some misunderstanding? I’ve known Savannah for a while, and I just don’t see her doing something like this.” “Misunderstanding?!” I shouted, my voice raw with anger. “She tore herself open, Landon! What kind of misunderstanding could possibly explain that?!” Seeing how angry I was, Landon didn’t press the issue. “Alright, if that’s what you’ve decided. But you’ll need a lawyer for the divorce. Right now, you don’t have any solid proof of her cheating. If you go through with it now, you’ll probably have to split everything, right? I’m pretty sure you paid for the house.” I froze. “You’re telling me if I divorce her now, I have to give her half of my house?” Landon nodded. “That’s bullshit!” I yelled. Landon shrugged. “Look, don’t take it out on me. That’s just how it works. Unless you can find hard evidence that she cheated.” I stood there, my face twisting with rage. Then I gritted my teeth and said, “Fine. I’ll wait. I’ll gather proof and make sure she walks away with nothing.” Two days later, Savannah was discharged from the hospital. Those two days were pure agony. Every time I was at work, I felt the eyes of my coworkers burning into me. The humiliation was unbearable. The more they stared, the more my hatred for Savannah grew. If it weren’t for the plan to strip her of everything, I would’ve divorced her on the spot. Savannah was discharged while I was working the night shift. She came to the ER. “Ethan.” She stood in the doorway, wringing her hands together, looking pitiful and small. I gave her a cold look, saying nothing. Seeing my reaction, she stepped closer. “Ethan, please, let me explain. It’s not what you think…” “Get out,” I said coldly, cutting her off. I didn’t want to hear another word. Tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled out her phone and held it out to me. “Ethan, if you just watch this video, you’ll understand. I know I was wrong, but things aren’t how they seem.” I felt my jaw tighten as I stared at the phone in her hand. A video? She had the audacity to record this? Fine, I thought. I’ll watch your damn video. Let’s see just how deep you’ve dug yourself. I snatched the phone from her hand, my fingers trembling with rage, and opened the video. Savannah’s scream filled the room. “Ahhh!” “Don’t be scared, Savannah,” a woman’s voice said. “It hurts at first, but you’ll get used to it. Look at me—I did.”

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Because of their business, my parents sent me to live with my Grandma Sarah in rural Kentucky, and they didn’t bring me back until I was eight. Dad told me to be more obedient and sensible, while Mom warned me not to use “tricks that won’t get you anywhere in life.” My sister Amanda made it clear I wasn’t worthy of touching her princess dress, and my brother Eric outright said I shouldn’t have come back at all. Finally, on my nineteenth birthday, I left that house just as they wanted. But then, they regretted it. They begged me to come home, and I just shook the hand I was holding onto. “Sorry, but I’ve found a new family.” By the time I returned to the Grant Family Mansion in Chicago, it was already dark. Apart from the security guard at the front, no one noticed my arrival. My family was enjoying dinner together in the dining room, laughing and chatting like nothing had changed. I opened the door to my room. I had been staying in the dorms at the University of Illinois for the past month, and no one had cleaned here. A thin layer of dust covered everything. I wasn’t surprised. I pulled out some tissues from my bag and wiped down the chair and desk before sitting down. Then, I took out the medical report from my bag. The words “tumor” stared back at me. Suddenly, an overwhelming wave of exhaustion hit me, a weariness that had been buried deep inside for so long. Now it was all crashing over me, suffocating me. The smell of dinner wafted in from the dining room, but all I felt was nausea. My name is Jessica Grant, the third child of the Grant family, the “new money” family in Chicago. But my position in the family has always been awkward. Unlike my older sister Amanda and my older brother Eric, who grew up with my parents, I was raised by my grandmother in rural Kentucky. Grandma Sarah didn’t care much for me. She made sure I had clothes to wear and food to eat, but beyond that, she was hands-off. When she had money, she’d go play Bingo, and when she lost, she’d take it out on me, shouting and berating me. Every time that happened, Aunt Karen, our neighbor, would come over and stop Grandma. She’d take me to her house and comfort me, just like a mom would in those TV shows. When I was eight, the Grants finally brought me back. On the car ride home, I couldn’t stop thinking—would my mom be as kind and gentle as Aunt Karen? But I was just a child then, too young to realize that if the Grants had truly cared about me, they wouldn’t have just sent a driver to pick me up. I’ll never forget my first day at the Grant Mansion. I stood there in the grand, elegant foyer, awkwardly tugging at a dress that didn’t fit right. I’ll also never forget how cold my mother’s gestures were and the way she looked at me, as if I were a burden. For over a decade, I tried so hard to win their approval, because I envied them. I wanted them to love me the way they loved each other. When I first received the diagnosis, it didn’t even register. The doctor’s words buzzed in my ears, but I couldn’t process them. The doctor, noticing my young age, suggested I call my family so we could discuss it together. It was like waking from a dream. I took out my phone and called my mother. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before going to voicemail. I swallowed, then tried calling my father. This time, the call was immediately declined. I felt like a robot as I tried dialing another number, but then my mother called back. I was so relieved when I answered, but the voice that came through wasn’t what I expected. “Stop calling so much. If you have something to say, text me. Your father and I are busy.” I didn’t know how to respond. Before I could say anything, she added, “And don’t call your brother or sister. They’re busy with important things.” Then the line went dead, and all I could hear was the beeping of the phone. I opened Instagram and scrolled through my brother Eric’s latest post. It was a picture of the four of them at a company event, smiling with the caption, “Family of four at the grand opening! Yay!” It was in that moment I realized: all my efforts, everything I had done to win them over, had been meaningless. Maybe we were never supposed to be a family in the first place. The doctor must have seen the look on my face, because he gave me a sympathetic smile. I forced a weak one back and told him I’d come back tomorrow. I made up my mind. I’d go back to the mansion, pack up my things, and leave. That place wasn’t my home. I sat in the chair for a moment, taking a deep breath before I started packing. Most of the things were mine anyway, things I had bought myself. It didn’t take long to pack up my suitcase. The only inconvenience was running into Eric on my way out. He raised an eyebrow at my suitcase, just like he always did. “What, you’re back? Going back to school already?” I nodded, trying to brush past him without engaging. He didn’t understand why I was being so cold. Normally, I’d be calling him ‘big brother’ and begging for his attention. Searching his memory, he thought he found the answer. “What’s your problem?” he said irritably. “We were busy this afternoon. That’s why we didn’t pick up the phone.” “I’m not mad,” I replied, gripping the handle of my suitcase tighter. I didn’t want to argue. I just wanted to leave. At that moment, Dad came over, noticing the tension between us. “What’s going on here?” he asked, frowning. “Nothing,” Eric said lazily, stepping toward Dad. My father scolded him lightly for not showing respect, but it was more indulgent than harsh. “She’s just having a little tantrum. Wants to run away from home, that’s all.” It wasn’t until then that Dad really looked at me, his eyes moving to the suitcase in my hand. His expression darkened. “If you leave, don’t bother coming back,” he said. And just like that, Amanda appeared, looking as put together and impatient as always in her tailored suit. “If you’re going to leave, then leave,” she said, her tone as cold as Eric’s. Amanda had never liked me. In her eyes, I was beneath the Grant family, too small-minded, too unpolished to belong. I checked my phone. My Uber had arrived. I nodded to the three of them and walked out, pulling my suitcase behind me. Leaving the Grant family wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be.

I didn’t go back to my dorm. It was too late, and the doors would be locked by now. Instead, I booked a room at a nearby hotel and crashed for the night. At some point, my roommate Amy called to ask how my medical tests went and if I was planning to come back to the dorm. I brushed off the first question and laughed, “Nah, it’s too late to head back now.” She wasn’t fully convinced, but she let it go after making me promise to text her in the morning. My mom also texted me, telling me that we’d have to “discuss my attitude” when I came home for break. I blocked her number. The hotel bed was cold, but it was also comfortable. I blocked the rest of the Grant family’s numbers too, then pulled the covers over my head and fell into a deep sleep. In my dream, I was eight years old again, meeting Amanda for the first time. She was so beautiful in her princess dress, and I wanted to talk to her, but she walked away without a word. It was like that for the next few days. I didn’t dare approach her directly, so I just followed from a distance. “Mom!” I saw Amanda run into our mother’s arms from the crack in the door. The way Mom smiled at her was nothing like the look she had given me on my first day at the mansion. Amanda pouted, “Jessica keeps trying to touch my clothes. I don’t want her to.” “She’s not allowed to touch my dresses,” Amanda added. Mom didn’t say anything, just patted Amanda’s head. Eric stood nearby, sulking. “She shouldn’t have come back. Why did you even bring her back, Mom?” “There was no choice,” Mom sighed. “Your grandma is sick.” I woke up in a cold sweat, sunlight streaming through the hotel window. I wiped my forehead and checked my phone. It was already the next morning. As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Details from the dream flashed through my mind. I realized I had never forgotten those things; I had just buried them deep inside. Amanda and Eric had done well in school and gone off to top universities overseas. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents, so I studied hard and got into a good local college. Honestly, I preferred literature, but since my brother and sister chose science, I followed their path. My mother knew I was staying up late to study. She never encouraged me, just said, “Don’t bother trying to compete with your brother and sister.” Eric laughed when he found out. “You worked this hard and only got into that school?” I knocked on my head, trying to shake off the thoughts. When I arrived at the school office, the counselor noticed how pale I looked. “Not sleeping well?” he asked. “A little.” I wasn’t as strong as I used to be, especially after my diagnosis. I handed him the paperwork I had prepared. “I’m going to take some time off.” He glanced over the medical file and gave me the same look of sympathy the doctor had. As he signed the forms, he asked, “Do your parents know?” “They know.” I didn’t want to talk about it. Luckily, he didn’t press the issue. Before I left, he reminded me that my classmates would be waiting for me when I returned. To be honest, I hadn’t spent much time with my classmates this past year. They probably wouldn’t even remember my name. As I packed up my things from the dorm, my roommates came by to help. One of the more outgoing girls hesitated for a while before asking, “Is it because of your health?” “I overheard your conversation with the counselor…” Another one joined in, and soon three pairs of eyes were fixed on me. There was nothing to hide. I nodded and admitted it. One of them immediately teared up. “Hey, it’s not a big deal. I’m not dying anytime soon.” I laughed, trying to lighten the mood. I hadn’t known these girls for long, but their concern was already more than what I’d received from the Grant family. “Don’t say that!” one of them cried, putting her hand over my mouth. “That’s bad luck.” I promised to stay in touch, and the three of them helped carry my bags to the gate, tears still streaming down their faces. Why had I spent so long trying to earn the love of the Grants? I had saved up money to buy expensive gifts, memorized their favorite meals, and been their go-to listener when they were stressed. I tried so hard to be part of their world. But in just one year, my roommates had shown me more care than I’d ever received from my family. As I stood there, my phone buzzed again. It was my father’s secretary calling, but before he could even finish his sentence, I hung up. How could I have forgotten? My father never called me directly. Anything he needed was always passed through his secretary. I went through my phone again and deleted every contact related to the Grants. The doctor had recommended I go to Houston Medical Center, where they were better equipped to handle my type of tumor. I didn’t want to die just yet. That night, I booked a flight to Houston. The next day, with my diagnosis in hand, I flew to Houston alone and checked into the hospital. At Houston Medical Center, I underwent another round of tests. The tumor had spread, but it was still within manageable limits. They scheduled chemotherapy before surgery. Compared to others in the hospital, I was lucky. I had the money I’d saved over the years, and there was a good chance I could beat this cancer. From down the hall, I heard a woman’s anguished screams. The sound made me snap back to reality. Next to me sat a small girl, pale but with bright, curious eyes. She heard the crying too and instinctively scooted closer to me. The woman, disheveled with one shoe missing, burst into the exam room, grabbing the doctor by his collar. “Give me back my son’s life!” she screamed, her voice thick with sobs, acting like a madwoman.

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Mrs. Miller pointed at my nose and said that I was trash, and her son was the only one who didn’t mind. Mr. Miller made it clear: if I was pregnant with a boy, they’d be willing to take me in. But if it was a girl, there was no way they’d let me marry into the family. I laughed. “Didn’t you want a grandson? Go look for one underground.” John and I had been dating for three years. We were introduced through our families. The person who introduced us said that John was honest, decent-looking, and his character was outstanding. I met him, and sure enough, he spoke well and wasn’t unattractive. After spending some time together, I found he was quite considerate, so I agreed to start dating him. For the past three years, John treated me well. He had plenty of flaws, but none that I couldn’t tolerate. What I couldn’t stand was how much he listened to his mom. If she told him what time to get up, he wouldn’t sleep a minute longer. But he promised me that he’d work on breaking that habit. After three years, both of our families arranged to meet and discuss marriage. I thought about it and agreed—it was time to settle down. But just a month after we got engaged, I found out I was pregnant. I stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test, lost in thought. We’d been careful all these years, never had any accidents. I told John about it, and he was thrilled. But his excitement didn’t seem like the joy of someone about to become a father. “I’ve got to call my parents right away,” he said. I nodded, not thinking much of it. It made sense to tell his parents, so I picked up my phone, unsure how to break the news to mine. Even though we were already engaged, we hadn’t officially gotten married yet, and none of the wedding details had been finalized. Meanwhile, John had already called his parents. The first thing he said was, “Mom, Olivia is pregnant. We’re expecting.” His mother immediately responded with a sigh of relief, “Finally, it happened.”

What did she mean by “finally”? I stared at John, confused. He looked flustered and quickly said into the phone, “Mom, Olivia is right here.” He was video chatting with his parents, so I didn’t say anything. When he hung up, I asked, “What did your mom mean by ‘finally’?” John wrapped his arm around my waist with a laugh. “What do you think she meant? She’s just happy. She’s been waiting for a grandkid, that’s all.” His words stung a little. I pushed his arm away. “It’s not necessarily a boy. What if it’s a girl? Is that a problem?” John realized his mistake and quickly tried to comfort me. “Of course not! Boys, girls—they’re all the same. Honestly, it’d be perfect if we had one of each.” Something about the situation didn’t sit right with me, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Later, when John went to make dinner, I called my parents to tell them the news. They were a little surprised, but after thinking it over, they didn’t scold me. After all, we were already engaged, and the wedding was just a matter of time. They only told us to come home and finalize the wedding details quickly. “You don’t want to be walking down the aisle with a big belly,” my mom said. I understood what they meant. It wouldn’t look good in front of all the relatives. When I talked it over with John, he was hesitant. He made excuses about not being able to take time off and how he was busy with a work project. John was just a regular employee—nothing so urgent that he couldn’t leave for a few days. Besides, what company doesn’t allow time off for a wedding? John kept delaying, and by the time we finally went home, three months had passed. By then, I was already four months pregnant. But because I was skinny and it was winter, no one could really tell. That night, my mom sat next to me, looking concerned. “John didn’t want to come back earlier—do you think they might be planning to reduce the dowry?” I was confused. “What do you mean?” She glanced at my belly. “You’re pregnant now. Do you think they’re trying to use that as an excuse to offer less?” I thought about it. An $8,800 dowry didn’t seem unreasonable, and John’s family wasn’t exactly poor. Besides, I was bringing a dowry of my own into the marriage. “Don’t worry, John isn’t like that.” My mom nodded, but the worry didn’t leave her eyes. That night, as I lay in bed, I couldn’t stop thinking about how John had delayed our trip home for so long. Now that I was four months along and could no longer get an abortion, he was suddenly in a rush to return. Why? Could my mom be right? Were they trying to avoid paying the dowry? The next morning, John and his parents came over to discuss the wedding. They walked in with an air of superiority, and I frowned slightly. Mrs. Miller nodded at me, her eyes filled with a mix of arrogance and satisfaction. “How’s the baby, Olivia?” “I’m fine,” I replied, sitting next to my parents and saying nothing more. Mr. Miller cleared his throat and started talking. “We all know Olivia is pregnant. Now, we’re a well-educated family, and frankly, we don’t approve of girls who get pregnant before marriage.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. His father actually said that. My dad, who had always been protective of me, couldn’t stay quiet. “That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?” Mr. Miller gave a cold laugh. “It may be harsh, but it’s the truth.” I looked at John. He was sitting next to his mother, head down, avoiding my gaze. “Let’s cut to the chase,” I said. “What are you really trying to say?” Mr. Miller glared at me. “The $8,800 dowry we talked about? We’re not paying it. But we expect you to provide the wedding gifts.” He glanced at my belly. “After all, we’re taking a risk here. We don’t even know if that baby is truly a Miller.” His words made my blood boil. My parents were furious as well, barely able to contain their anger. “John,” I said, turning to him, “is this how you feel too?” He finally lifted his head and met my eyes, speaking softly, “I listen to my parents.” I laughed bitterly. “Great. Just great.” My mom grabbed my arm, trying to calm me down. “How could you say something so disgusting?” she snapped at them. “If you’re so short on money, just say so. You don’t have to insult my daughter like this.” My dad was gripping the table in anger. Mrs. Miller wasn’t backing down. “It’s not an insult. Your daughter did this, so it’s only natural for people to talk.” I shot up from my chair. “I didn’t do this alone! Your son is involved, and you don’t seem to be blaming him for anything!” “John!” I shouted, glaring at the man sitting in the corner. “Say something right now, in front of both our families. Was I the one who forced you to get me pregnant? If that’s what you think, I’ll turn myself in right now.” John stood up shakily, looking between me and his parents. “No, no, of course not. You know that’s not true.” I turned to Mrs. Miller. “Did you hear that?” She didn’t seem fazed. “Well, John is a boy. It’s different for him.” “How is it different? He’s not a human being like I am?” Mrs. Miller stood up, pointing her finger at me, ready to yell, but my dad stepped in between us. “This is my house,” he said firmly. “If you don’t intend to marry Olivia, then leave.” Mr. and Mrs. Miller sneered and laughed. “Fine, we’ll go. But don’t come crawling to us later.” “Hmph.” John hesitated at the door, glancing back at me nervously, but I shot him a look that made him lower his head and leave. As soon as they were gone, my mom started crying. “What are we going to do now?” I looked at my parents, who were being dragged into this mess because of me, and my heart ached. But I held back my tears. Now was not the time to cry. If I broke down, my parents would only worry more. “Don’t worry, Mom and Dad. I’ll go get an abortion tomorrow.”

My mom immediately protested. “No, you can’t! I’ve heard that getting an abortion this far along can harm your body. You might not be able to have kids again.” I sat down, trying to stay calm. “I’ll go to the hospital and talk to the doctor. If I can’t get an abortion, I’ll have the baby and raise it myself.” My dad sighed. “We can talk to the Millers again tomorrow. If they don’t want to pay the dowry, that’s fine. We don’t need their money.” With that, he went back into the house. My mom held my hand tightly. “Your father has always been a proud man. He’s just upset. Once he calms down, we’ll talk to the Millers again.” That night, no matter how many messages John sent me, I didn’t reply. I tossed and turned, unable to sleep until dawn. When I finally woke up, my mom was the only one in the kitchen, making breakfast. Then I remembered—my dad had said he’d go to the Millers’ house last night. It was already noon, and he still wasn’t back. “Don’t worry,” my mom said, trying to reassure me. “If things didn’t go well, he would’ve come home by now.” But I couldn’t shake the anxiety. What if they were giving my dad a hard time? “I’m going to find him,” I said, grabbing my coat. Just as I opened the door, I saw my dad standing there. His face was full of worry, but when he saw me, he forced a smile. “Where are you off to?” “Dad, why were you gone so long? Did they give you trouble?” He hesitated before answering, “No, no trouble. Just talking about the wedding.” My mom hurried over. “So? What did they say?” My dad closed his eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “They said we have to wait until Olivia gives birth. If it’s a boy, then they’ll agree to the marriage.” “What?” My mom and I both shouted in unison. “This is outrageous,” my mom fumed, throwing her dish towel on the floor. “Do they think their son is a god or something?” I felt dizzy, my vision going black for a moment. How could everything I’d dreamed of—the wedding, the marriage—turn into this nightmare? I wobbled on my feet, and my mom rushed over to steady me. “Olivia, should we go to the hospital?” I suddenly remembered what John and his mother had said that day—finally pregnant. So this had all been part of their plan from the start.

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On the day of my son’s welcome-home dinner, he brought back a girl. She opened her mouth and called me: “Mom!” I had to laugh—I don’t recall ever having a daughter this grown! My son, Michael Thompson, had been abroad for two years, and upon returning, he gave me quite the surprise. “Hi, Mom, I’m Tiffany Greene, Michael’s girlfriend.” Well now, where did this daughter suddenly come from? Michael and Tiffany were holding hands, eagerly waiting for my response. What could I say? Setting aside Tiffany’s manners for a moment, that “Mom” carried a bit of calculation. “Oh, son, I’ve missed you so much!” Tiffany looked a bit embarrassed, tugging at Michael’s sleeve awkwardly. “Mom, Tiffany was greeting you. You could at least acknowledge her.” I gave him an innocent look. “Oh dear, I must have missed that. Tiffany, was it? You’re quite the beauty, no wonder you managed to get my blockhead of a son to open up!” “Mom!” I smiled. “What? Haven’t you embarrassed yourself enough when you were younger? Besides, Tiffany’s your girlfriend, what’s there to hide? Stop being so stingy.” Tiffany quickly stepped in, trying hard to appease me. “Mom’s right, we’re family now. Michael, don’t talk to your mom like that.” Michael, the obedient boy that he is, immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Mom.” It would’ve been better if he didn’t. They aren’t even married yet, and he’s already letting his girlfriend boss him around. It broke my heart. Tiffany affectionately grabbed my wrist, but her eyes couldn’t help but flicker toward the emerald necklace around my neck. “Mom, your necklace is gorgeous! It must’ve been expensive. My mother never dares to buy anything this fancy. You must be really lucky.” I had no idea what Michael saw in Tiffany. After raising him for twenty years, he’d become a naive romantic. I can afford jewelry if I want. And here she was, barely in the door, already lecturing me on how to spend my money. Of course, Michael, being the romantic that he is, jumped to her defense. “You’re right, Mom. Even though we’re well-off, we shouldn’t be wasting money like this.” I smirked and gave Tiffany a sharp look. For some reason, I sensed a hint of challenge in her eyes. “So, Miss Greene, what does your family do?” Tiffany responded, “My father is a department head at Skyline Corporation, and my mom runs her own flower shop.” I shot back, “And do you know what Michael’s father does?” Tiffany gazed admiringly at Michael. “Michael told me his dad is the Vice President of Skyline Corporation. I always thought Michael was just average, but after seeing you, I realize he’s been way too humble.” Ha! I can’t imagine what my husband would think of suddenly having such a “daughter.” I glanced at Michael. At least he hadn’t spilled all our family secrets yet. Since that was the case, I didn’t bother correcting her. “Michael, why don’t you show Miss Greene around?” “Oh, and Miss Greene, Michael’s father and I haven’t prepared the family blessing gift just yet, so for now, you can just call me Mrs. Thompson.” Tiffany pursed her lips. My darling son couldn’t stand to see his girlfriend feeling uncomfortable and threw me a wounded look. Well, great. That almost made me want to disown him right then and there. Today, the people who came were all among New York City’s elite. Tiffany clearly felt out of place, clinging to Michael like a shadow. “Michael, are you sure your family is just average? All these people are dressed to the nines. And your mom’s necklace—it must be worth millions.” “Oh, way more than that. None of my mom’s jewelry is worth less than a million.” Tiffany looked shocked, like she was starting to understand the situation. She asked hesitantly, “Did your mom not like me earlier? Is it because I’m not from a wealthy family? Maybe she thinks I’m beneath you.” As she spoke, tears streamed down her face. Michael, being the hopeless romantic he is, felt his heart break. “Don’t overthink it. My mom’s really open-minded.” Yes, but that’s only when the other person is straightforward and genuine.

Michael and Tiffany made their rounds and returned to my side. This time, Tiffany seemed to have learned her lesson. Her words were full of compliments about my looks and how smart Michael was. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t buying it. “Miss Greene, have Michael take you home soon. I’ve prepared some health supplements for your parents. Where do you live?” “I’ll thank you on behalf of my parents. We live nearby, at Greenwood Apartments.” Ah, “Apartments”—just regular, modest housing. “Alright, I won’t keep you two. Michael, take good care of Miss Greene and make sure she gets home safely.” “Don’t worry, Mom.” Look at that big smile on my son’s face. It’s exhausting. Later that night, as soon as my husband, Mr. Thompson, walked in, I pulled him into the bedroom before he could even take off his shoes. “Honey, what’s going on?” I sat on the bed, furious, and threw a picture of Tiffany at him. “Look at this girl. Are you satisfied?” Mr. Thompson was so shocked, he immediately dropped the photo and fell to his knees. “Honey, I swear I didn’t cheat! I’ve never even seen this girl!” … Michael must’ve inherited his brains from his father. “What nonsense are you talking about? That’s the girl Michael brought home!” “Oh, oh! Well, she looks too clever—definitely not as cute as you, dear.” I kicked him playfully, and he caught my foot, grinning cheekily. “Enough with the jokes. I’m telling you, you need to stop Michael from marrying this girl. She hasn’t even moved in yet and she’s already turning him against me.” “This is serious! Michael must’ve lost his mind.” As we were talking, the door opened, and Michael walked in. “Dad, Mom.” Mr. Thompson didn’t say a word. He walked right up to Michael. “Break up with that girl right now. Your mom and I will never approve of you two being together.” Michael froze, turning to look at me. And the words he said broke my heart. “Tiffany was right. Mom, you just don’t like her. If you don’t approve of us, then we’ll leave. We won’t bother you anymore.” Smack! Mr. Thompson slapped Michael hard across the face. He was so angry, he couldn’t speak for a moment. Is this really the son we raised with such care? Now he wants to cut ties with us for a girl he barely knows? “Let him go, Mr. Thompson. From now on, we no longer have a son named Michael. He can marry whoever he wants.” Without a second thought, Michael grabbed his unopened suitcase and stormed out, throwing one last parting shot: “I’ll come back when Mom accepts Tiffany.” The door slammed shut behind him. Days went by without a word from Michael. His phone was turned off. Meanwhile, Tiffany somehow managed to get ahold of my phone number, calling me every day. I hung up on her every single time. We had protected Michael too well. He needed to see Tiffany’s true nature for himself. Today, Tiffany called again. Annoyed, I blocked her number. Then, out of nowhere, Michael showed up at home, with a tearful Tiffany trailing behind him. It looked like they had come to confront me. “Mom, how could you block Tiffany’s number? Even if you don’t like her, you can’t hurt her. Do you know how long she’s been job hunting?” What? I couldn’t make sense of it. “No, Michael, you’ve misunderstood. It wasn’t your mom. I made a mistake at work, and I don’t blame her at all.” What a perfect little actress. I didn’t even know what had happened, yet she was jumping in to clear my name. “Michael, I’m your mother. If you’ve got something to say, say it. But don’t you dare accuse me.” Michael sneered. “If you weren’t pulling strings with Skyline Corporation, how else would they have fired Tiffany so suddenly?” Slap! I couldn’t hold back any longer. If I didn’t set him straight, my son would be ruined—manipulated by a woman into throwing accusations like this at me. Tiffany fell to her knees, grabbing onto my hand. “Auntie, please don’t make things hard for Michael. It’s all my fault. I’ll break up with him right away.” I kicked her aside. This kind of act? I’ve seen it too many times. Trying to play the victim in front of me is like putting on a show for the devil himself. “Are you okay, Tiffany? No matter what happens, I’ll never leave you. Even if it means cutting ties with them, I’ll stand by your side.” I caught a flicker of impatience in Tiffany’s eyes. She was only bold enough to act this way because she knew Michael was our only son. If he were a regular guy, she’d disappear in an instant. “I’m fine. Don’t say things like that. No matter what, she’s still your mother.” “She doesn’t deserve the title.” With that, Michael scooped Tiffany up into his arms and marched out, barely sparing me a glance. The audacity! Furious, I immediately called the bank and had them freeze all of Michael’s credit cards.

Michael was as stubborn as a mule. He didn’t call me once. Not even after all his cards were frozen. I didn’t have the energy to worry about him either. There were so many social events to attend lately. “Honey, let’s get going. I heard Mr. Johnson’s daughter-in-law just had a big, healthy baby boy,” Mr. Thompson said as we were heading out. Then he sighed, “Both are sons, but how could ours be so different?” At the event, the moment I got out of the car, I noticed a familiar face. It looked exactly like Tiffany, my son’s clueless, love-struck girlfriend. I left Mr. Thompson behind and secretly followed her. Michael wouldn’t show his face here unless someone else was involved. Tiffany was holding hands with a young man, smiling brightly and charming everyone around her. “Hi everyone, I’m Chris Walker’s girlfriend, Tiffany. You can call me Tiff,” she introduced herself. “Oh wow, Miss Tiffany, you’re stunning! Chris really has good taste,” someone praised. Tiffany blushed shyly, but I was fuming. My son is an idiot, and now it’s up to me to expose this two-timer! I quickly hid behind the stage and discreetly pulled out my phone, recording every moment. After chatting with the group for a bit, Tiffany followed this Chris Walker upstairs to a hotel room. I didn’t need to guess what they were about to do. Mr. Thompson, meanwhile, had been frantically searching for me. “There you are! I thought I’d lost you. Come on, Mr. Johnson’s been asking for you. They’re waiting for you to join the baby’s first birthday grab.” Mrs. Johnson handed me the baby, a chubby little boy weighing ten pounds. “Goodness, this one’s quite hefty! If only I had a grandchild like this,” I said with a tinge of envy. The baby wasn’t just chubby—he had an iron grip, grabbing a toy hammer during the birthday tradition and refusing to let go. Mrs. Johnson tried to pry it from his hand but couldn’t. People began to congratulate the family. “Look at that! Strong grip. This kid’s going to be a boss one day. Knows how to hold onto wealth already!”

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Sophomore year, I became infamous in the worst possible way. My best friend, Rachel Lewis, asked me to meet her at a hotel. I went, and from that moment, my life spiraled into a pit of no return. Not only did I lose my dignity, but they ripped my clothes, took compromising photos, and spread them around. Those indecent pictures were sent to everyone—my classmates, even my professors. Soon, I became the hot topic of gossip: “The president of the Student Government, selling herself for money.” Overnight, I became the scandal everyone talked about. My parents couldn’t handle the public shame. They divorced, and my mom, unable to bear the humiliation, overdosed on pills. From that day, I had to transfer schools. I changed my face, my name—everything. But I could never forget Rachel’s smug face that night. She orchestrated the whole thing. I wasn’t going to let her get away with it. I worked my way into Rachel Lewis’ graduate program. I sold my mom’s house, the only thing I had left, and reinvented myself as a rich girl, blending into Rachel’s elite circle, pretending to be her closest friend. Rumor had it that her boyfriend, David Lawson, came from serious old money, was super handsome, and head over heels in love with her. David was going to be my first move. He would be the first “gift” I’d give to Rachel. Getting close to a guy like David, one who’s loyal and high-quality, wasn’t easy—but I had to try. Soon enough, my chance came. On Rachel’s birthday, she got into a fight with David and ignored all his calls. Desperate, David reached out to me. “Emily, is Rachel with you?” David asked. I lied. “Yeah, she’s with me.” He hesitated, then said, “We had a bit of a misunderstanding. She won’t pick up my calls. It’s her birthday tonight, and I want to surprise her. I need your help.” “What do you need?” I asked. “Could you lend me your apartment key?” he asked. Rachel, despite her average background, always pretended to be a rich girl. She claimed she couldn’t stand living in the dorms, so I had to split the rent on an expensive apartment just to stay close to her. “What do you want to do?” I asked, playing dumb. “I want to set up the apartment for a proposal.” My heart sank. Rachel, this fake and vain woman, was about to marry David, this incredible guy? Back in sophomore year, she was willing to destroy me just for the title of Student Government President. How was it fair that someone like her could marry into wealth? “Sure, I’ll help,” I agreed with a smile, even as a dark plan started forming in my mind. The birthday dinner was at a bar near Brentwood University. I made an excuse about traffic and turned around, heading back to our apartment. When I got there, David was already waiting outside with a large box. He was tall, about 6’2”, dressed casually in a black T-shirt and baseball cap, but even without expensive accessories, you couldn’t miss his aura of wealth and class. I walked over, smiling. “Been waiting long?” He didn’t say much, just looked at me with deep, intense eyes. “Not long.” I took him inside, helped him set up a romantic scene for the proposal, and when we took a break, I pulled out a few bottles of sake from the fridge. In one of them, I slipped a little something extra before handing it to him. The alcohol wasn’t strong—just a popular drink you’d find in bars. David barely glanced at the bottle before tipping it back.

Sitting on the box, I took a sip of my own drink. “What do you like about Rachel?” I asked. David drained his bottle, then set it down with a thoughtful look. “She’s kind and bright.” I nearly choked on my drink. Rachel Lewis and “kind and bright”? How blind could this man be? She was vicious, manipulative, dark, and ruthless. “Seriously?” I laughed, but when he looked up at me, his dark, slightly drunk eyes carried a kind of deep, dangerous allure. “She’s good to me,” he said quietly. “Wow, you’ve really got an eye for quality,” I muttered sarcastically as I headed to the balcony. On cue, I called Rachel with a tone of urgency. “Hey, can you come back to the apartment? Something urgent came up.” I returned to the living room to find David passed out on the couch, just as I’d planned. For a moment, guilt washed over me. David was a good guy. He didn’t deserve to be caught in the crossfire of my revenge. But then I thought of all the evil Rachel had done to me, and my resolve hardened. “David, this isn’t to hurt you. I’m saving you,” I whispered before stripping him of his clothes and positioning him on the couch. “I hope we put on a good show,” I said, then destroyed the evidence by wiping down the bottles and tearing my own clothes. I even bruised myself, slapping my face until it swelled. Then, I texted Rachel: “Rachel, hurry back. David’s gone crazy!” My phone buzzed with her frantic calls, but I smashed it into pieces.

Rachel rushed back to the apartment, her face pale as she took in the scene: me, battered and bruised, crying hysterically on the couch, clothes torn, and David sprawled unconscious across the room. “Emily, what happened?” she asked, her voice trembling. “Rachel…” I sobbed, throwing myself into her arms. “David… David attacked me!” It was so satisfying to spit out those words—David attacked me. Rachel looked like she might pass out. Her eyes locked onto David, fury and disbelief bubbling up. She slapped him across the face, shouting, “Wake up, you bastard!” When David groggily woke up, completely unaware of what had happened, Rachel lost it. “You disgusting pig!” I grabbed my phone and ran out of the apartment, draping myself in a coat as I faked a sobbing exit. Rachel had clawed her way up using her looks and charm to hook wealthy guys, and David Lawson was the biggest fish she’d ever landed. She wasn’t going to let him go so easily. Sure enough, as I reached the sidewalk, Rachel came chasing after me. “Emily!” I pretended to shiver as I tried dialing 911 on my shattered phone, knowing it wouldn’t work. I was buying time, letting her true nature surface. “Rachel…” I said, voice shaking. “I need your phone to call the police. I won’t let that monster get away with this.” Rachel’s face went pale, and she grabbed my hand. “Emily, calm down.” “How can I calm down?” I cried. “Do you know what he did to me?” Tears streamed down my face as I continued. “He ripped my clothes, groped me, and… and he assaulted me. I’m going to make sure that man goes to prison! And if you defend him, we’re no longer friends.” Rachel’s expression hardened, and I saw the cold, calculating woman behind her fragile exterior. She forced a smile. “I’m not defending him. I’m just worried about your reputation. Let’s wait a couple of days and talk this through. I’ll get David’s side of the story and make sure you get justice.” Her smile was as chilling as it was fake. But I knew what she was planning. She was getting ready to strike. Everything was going exactly according to plan. Now, it was time to push Rachel over the edge.

The news that David and I had “slept together” spread across Brentwood University’s Instagram Page like wildfire. My childhood friend had helped leak the story, and the more scandalous and unbelievable it sounded, the better. I wanted Rachel to feel cornered, furious. I didn’t care if she hated me. I wanted her to feel the pressure of having to protect her rich “rapist” boyfriend’s reputation. Rachel soon moved back to the dorms, keeping an eye on me under the guise of concern, but I knew the truth: she didn’t want me calling the cops and ruining her chance to marry into wealth. The day after I moved back, David texted me. “Emily, we need to talk.” “Let’s talk off-campus,” I replied. “I don’t want to be seen here.” “Fine,” he agreed. Knowing David liked to dress in black, I picked a black long-sleeve shirt and hat, wrapping myself in a disguise. My friend was ready with a camera to capture every moment. As soon as I got outside, David’s sleek Maybach was parked across the street. I climbed into the back seat. David’s face was tense as he stared at me in the rearview mirror. “Where do you want to go?” “I don’t care. Let’s just drive.” We circled the city aimlessly, and though I felt a pang of guilt for what I was doing to him, thoughts of my dead mother hardened my heart again. I couldn’t tell him the truth yet. Rachel’s poison had already seeped too deep into his mind. If I revealed everything too soon, he wouldn’t believe me. I’d lose my chance for revenge. There was a heavy silence before David finally spoke. “Emily, about that night… I’m sorry. David’s voice was low, almost apologetic. “I’m sorry about what happened that night. I know I drank too much, but honestly, a single bottle of sake shouldn’t have knocked me out like that. Rachel and I have been going over it, and… something feels off.” My heart skipped a beat. I hadn’t expected him to suspect anything so soon. Still, I kept my composure. “What do you mean?” David hesitated, as if searching for the right words. “Doesn’t it seem strange? Like maybe someone else was involved?” I cut him off, tears streaming down my face. “Are you accusing me of something? Why would I set you up? I don’t want your money. I don’t want anything from you. What reason would I have?” “I’m not accusing you of anything—” “You think I’d ruin myself just to frame you for something you didn’t do?” I interrupted, my voice breaking. “You’re trying to cover up what you did by throwing dirt on me!” David exhaled sharply, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He couldn’t meet my eyes. “That’s not what I’m saying.” “Fine,” I shot back, my anger rising. “Let’s go to the police. I still have the underwear with your DNA on it from that night. We’ll see who’s lying.” Before he could respond, I threw open the car door and stormed down the street. “Emily, wait!” David chased after me, grabbing my arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” I yanked my arm away, playing up the distress. “You don’t get it! You ruined my life! You treated me like I’m nothing but a—” I choked on my words, collapsing into sobs on his chest. David, shaken, tried to comfort me. “I’ll make it right. I’ll fix this. Whatever you need. I’m truly sorry.” As I cried into his shoulder, my friend discreetly snapped photos from a distance—David pulling me close, my tear-streaked face buried in his shirt. The images would fuel the next wave of gossip on the Brentwood University Instagram Page. Rachel would see these and lose her mind. “I don’t want your money, David,” I whispered, ensuring my voice trembled just enough. “Let’s just pretend none of this happened. For my sake, for Rachel’s.” David’s expression softened, filled with guilt. “If that’s what you want.” I gave a small nod. “Thank you. I just… I just need to move on.” With that, I hailed a cab back to Langston Hall, leaving David standing there, visibly torn and conflicted. I didn’t want to hurt him, but he was an unavoidable casualty in my war against Rachel. Back at the dorm, Rachel was waiting for me. Her eyes were red, but her smile was disturbingly calm. “Emily, where have you been?” I shrugged, playing it off. “Just went for a walk.” Rachel wrapped her arms around me in a fake hug, her voice sugary sweet. “I was so worried about you. Come with me to a party tonight. It’ll take your mind off everything.” She was inviting me to a “celebration”—the same excuse she used that night in sophomore year when she lured me to the Hilton Hotel. She was preparing to make her move. Only this time, she was the prey, and I was the hunter.

I had been lying low around Rachel for so long, there was no way I hadn’t learned everything about her. I knew exactly who she talked to, what she did, and who her connections were. To David, she always played the role of the calm and refined girlfriend, but in reality, she was anything but. Back in sophomore year, she was running with all kinds of shady characters, making friends with a lot of street guys. Her network was wide, and even after getting into grad school and moving to New York City, she still kept in touch with those “brothers” from back then. I sent the party address to my friend, who was already prepping for what we had planned. The celebration was at a nightclub downtown. The VIP Lounge was dimly lit and thick with smoke, filled with guys who were clearly from the wrong side of the tracks. Some were sitting around shirtless, playing cards, while others were getting wild on the dance floor, moving to the heavy beat of the music. “She’s here!” A tall, lanky guy sitting in the middle, cigarette in hand, announced as soon as Rachel walked in. Rachel slapped me on the shoulder and grinned. “Hey Derek, I brought a new girl to join the fun.” A few of the guys turned to look at me, their stares far too intense for comfort. Instinctively, I started to back out of the room. Rachel, however, shoved me forward. “What the hell, Rachel?” I asked, confused. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, her entire demeanor shifted. The fake friendly smile vanished, replaced by a cold smirk. “Emily, it’s time to drop the act.”

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