After quitting my soul-crushing job to move back to my hometown and embrace the soft life, I somehow ended up marrying my best friend’s brother. But he didn’t seem to like me at all. No big deal, I thought. I’ll just treat it like I married my best friend. So, after we tied the knot, I was constantly running over to her place. Until one day, he cornered me against the wall and refused to let go. “Wifey, are you really going to make me live like a monk forever?” “???” 1 The moment I told my best friend I was quitting my job to move back home and rot in peace, she immediately arranged for me to be picked up. I hadn’t even finished handing over my work projects before I was strapped into the leather seat of her chartered private jet. Ah, the perks of having a filthy-rich heiress as your best friend when you’re just a burned-out corporate drone. “You should have quit and come back ages ago! Do you have any idea how bored I am living out here by myself? It’s going to be so much fun having you back to play with me!” Harper Jenkins looped her arm through mine, practically bouncing in her seat. For the entire flight, she whined about how lonely her luxurious princess life had been during the two years I was grinding away in New York City. “Let go of my arm for five seconds so I can submit this resume, then you can hug me again.” I shot her a fake glare, and she pouted, loosening her grip. I said I was moving back to live the “soft life,” but really… I was just relocating my corporate slavery to a different zip code. I still had to find a job. Right as my email sent successfully, Harper leaned over. “Wait, isn’t that my brother’s company? What position are you applying for? I’ll just shoot him a text.” “…” What is it like having the daughter of the local billionaire real estate mogul as your best friend? I shed a single tear of frustration—you could have told me that before I spent three hours polishing my resume! Just like that, I seamlessly joined Nolan Jenkins’s company. Harper must have pulled some serious strings, because my administrative role had surprisingly few responsibilities. I could clock out right at 5:00 PM every day and go straight to hang out with her. She took me out to eat and drink all over town, frequently dragging me back to her family’s estate for extravagant meals cooked by their private chef. These were delicacies I couldn’t even dream of affording during my years in NYC. Going from surviving on shrimp-flavored instant ramen to eating actual lobster ravioli felt completely surreal. “Maya, the two years you were gone, I just couldn’t fit in with those snobby socialite girls. We couldn’t vibe at all. You’re the best. Only you will sit on the curb and eat late-night street tacos with me.” Saying that, she pushed a plate of non-spicy tacos toward me. “No hot sauce for you.” “Thank you, Your Highness.” “Oh, stop it. Hey, if you see my brother around the office lately, steer clear of him. We got into a huge fight.” “Huh?” To be honest, I had been working there for nearly a month and hadn’t even caught a glimpse of Harper’s brother. “I just agreed with my mom for two seconds that he needs to hurry up and bring a girlfriend home, and he lost his mind. He even froze a bunch of my black cards! With a rotten temper like his, it’s a miracle if any girl ever likes him.” “And honestly, with that attitude, if the future sister-in-law he finds has the same terrible temper, I’m going to be so annoyed,” Harper complained. “I haven’t even met your brother yet. He probably doesn’t know who I am, right?” I sucked in a sharp breath. If he was mad at Harper and took his anger out on me at work, what would I do? I despised toxic workplace culture and getting yelled at by bosses. But I had no choice; I needed to make a living. If I hadn’t been completely crushed by the extreme commutes and endless overtime in NYC, I wouldn’t have fled back home. “You’ll meet him eventually. Just avoid him for now. He’s way more intense at work than he is in normal life.” I nodded sensibly, vowing to never cross his path. But the universe has a sick sense of humor. The very next morning, I was caught red-handed swiping my badge at the exact minute my shift started. It was all Harper’s fault. She insisted on dragging me out for drinks last night. After a few rounds of tequila, I passed out. When I woke up this morning, I threw on whatever clothes were on the floor and sprinted to the office. I shoved my haggard face toward the biometric scanner and successfully clocked in with two seconds to spare. I let out a massive sigh of relief. My perfect attendance bonus was safe. “Clocking in at the last possible second, showing up to work looking completely unkempt. Which department are you in?” A cold, deep male voice echoed from behind me. It definitely wasn’t my manager’s voice. I stiffly turned my head and was met with the devastatingly handsome—but incredibly sour—face of a stranger. “Admin…” “An admin showing up looking this sloppy? Have you ever read the employee handbook?” “I apologize, I’ll go freshen up right now.” “Name.” I gasped silently, suddenly recalling Harper’s warning from last night. Don’t tell me this is her psycho brother. “Maya.” “New?” “Started a month ago.” “Got it.” What exactly did he get? I stood there in total confusion, watching him stride toward the private executive elevators. Crap. That was definitely Harper’s psycho brother. Crap. He definitely knows I’m Harper’s nepotism hire best friend. I wanted to cry as I face-palmed my own throbbing, hungover head. 2 Thanks to experiencing Nolan’s legendary scowl firsthand, I was completely distracted all day, just staring at the clock waiting to go home. The second it hit 5:00 PM, I bolted out of the building, terrified of running into him again. As soon as I stepped into the lobby, I saw Harper waiting for me. “Maya, babe! My chef said he’s making Italian tonight, your favorite! Let’s go, let’s go! We’re eating at my place. His truffle risotto is to die for!” She hooked her arm through mine, but I hesitated. “Going to your place… what if we run into your brother?” “What’s wrong? Did he yell at you?” Harper dropped her bubbly persona and instantly looked ready for a fight. “No, no, nothing like that…” “Relax. Ever since he got mad about us telling him to find a wife, he hasn’t stepped foot in the house. He’s staying at his own penthouse.” “Oh, okay. Phew.” Hearing that I wouldn’t have to face Nolan, I breathed a sigh of relief. “Let’s go! The chef asked if there’s anything else you’re craving. He can whip up pretty much anything.” “I want some clam chowder. All that spicy food yesterday gave me a stomachache…” “Done and done!” … Right as I was stuffing my face in the Jenkins family’s lavish dining room, Nolan walked in. The spoon froze halfway to my mouth. We locked eyes in a naked, awkward stare-down. He casually swept his gaze over the dining table, where Harper and I were having the time of our lives, keeping his face entirely blank before heading upstairs. Harper’s parents were vacationing in Europe, and Nolan lived in the city. The massive estate was supposed to be completely empty except for Harper. Neither of us expected him to show up. Harper and I exchanged a panicked glance, immediately lowered our heads, and continued eating in complete silence, putting an abrupt pause on the highly inappropriate gossip we had just been discussing. I swear I had no idea he was coming back, Harper texted me under the table. Is it too late to run? I texted back. It’s fine. The unwelcomed one is the third wheel. He’s the extra. We continued texting back and forth, silently chatting. Right when our text thread was getting spicy, Nolan came back downstairs. “Playing on your phones while eating? Have you forgotten your manners?” It was that familiar, icy tone. I didn’t dare look up. “Thirty-two years old and still no girlfriend. Have you forgotten your manners?” Harper shot back. “Pfft!” I swear my laughter threshold is very high, but I genuinely couldn’t hold it in. Nolan’s face darkened even further. He dropped a stack of files onto the table, his long, elegant fingers tapping sharply against the polished wood. Tap. Tap. Tap. He glared at Harper, then shifted his icy gaze to me. “Maya, is it? Have this stack of documents brought to my office before 10:00 AM tomorrow.” “…” I shot Harper a desperate look for help, but she kept her mouth shut. My phone buzzed twice. Sorry Maya babe, I can’t run my mouth anymore. If I piss him off again, we’ll only be able to afford the discount cabana boys for our next pool party. Fly high, Maya. Take this bullet for me! “…” 3 The next morning, I nervously carried the files to Nolan’s office. He wasn’t there, but a stunningly gorgeous woman was sitting on his leather sofa, scrolling through her phone. If my guess was right, this had to be Nolan’s girlfriend. Any woman who could casually lounge in the Grumpy Boss’s private office was definitely not ordinary. I offered the beauty a polite smile, neatly stacked the files on Nolan’s desk, and turned on my heel to make a quick escape. But she called out to me. “Excuse me, do you know where Nolan went?” I shook my head blankly. Not only did I not know, but I was actively praying he wouldn’t show up while I was still in the room. Since she called him by his first name, she was definitely someone important. Acting on the absolute rule of never offending the boss’s inner circle, I smiled politely. “I’m just here to drop off some files. I don’t know where he is. Maybe you could wait a little longer?” “Fine.” I nodded, silently rejoicing that the boss’s lady didn’t give me a hard time, and elegantly power-walked toward the door. But naturally, whatever you fear most will definitely happen. I walked right out the door and collided straight into Nolan’s solid chest as he rounded the corner. I patted my own chest to soothe my startled nerves, staring up at him, completely speechless. He looked down at me with a dark expression, not saying a word. The silence was suffocating. I had no choice but to speak first. “Boss, the files are on your desk. Your girlfriend is waiting inside for you. If there’s nothing else, I’ll head back down.” Nolan’s frown deepened into a scowl. “Girlfriend?” “Huh?” “Follow me.” “Huh?” I awkwardly trailed behind Nolan. He took one step into his office and abruptly stopped. I crashed face-first into his back. My nose legitimately throbbed. “Why did you st—” “How many times do I have to tell you? Stop coming to find me, and stop letting yourself into my office.” Nolan’s cold voice cut off my complaint. The gorgeous woman stood up from the sofa. “Nolan, I regret it. Let’s start over.” “You really think I’m your toy? Pick me up when you’re bored, throw me away when you’re done?” “But you’ve been single all this time… weren’t you waiting for me? Nolan, I know you still love me. And now I’m back.” The woman was getting emotional. She stepped forward to hug him, but Nolan effortlessly dodged her. When he stepped aside, my presence behind him was fully exposed. Realizing how humiliating it was to have an audience, she glared at me with deep annoyance. “Why are you still here?” “…” Do you think I want to be here?! “Vanessa, we broke up a long time ago. Keep harassing me, and I’ll file a restraining order.” “Nolan, please, just hold me.” Listening to her whiny, desperate tone made me feel slightly nauseous. I was just about to use the distraction to slip away when Nolan reached out and grabbed my wrist. “Plus, I already have a girlfriend.” Nolan pulled me firmly to his side, wrapped a heavy arm around my shoulders, and pulled me tight against his chest. Me: “?” “Her?!” Vanessa’s voice spiked an octave, dripping with disbelief. “Her.” Nolan squeezed my shoulder tighter. I was so stiff I felt like a wooden board. “You’d better leave on your own, or I’m calling security to drag you out.” Judging by his tone, Nolan was genuinely furious. I didn’t dare breathe. I just came up here to deliver some paperwork, and I was getting front-row seats to premium billionaire drama. At least I had material to gossip with Harper about over dinner tonight. I was mentally organizing how I’d tell the story to distract myself from the overwhelming, dominant aura Nolan was radiating right beside me. Seeing that Nolan was completely unyielding, Vanessa realized she was humiliating herself. She shot me one last venomous glare and finally stormed out. 4 For a long moment, it was just me and Nolan left in the office. The atmosphere instantly froze. I quietly reminded him, “She’s gone. Can you let go now?” He was holding me way too tight. It was the closest I had ever been to a man’s chest, and I was genuinely terrified. Look, Harper and I talked a big game. We’d hire cute bartenders to pour us drinks and hype us up at parties, but we never actually crossed any lines. Despite our open-minded humor and wild talk, my actual experience with physical intimacy was practically zero. “Ahem… Maya…” Nolan paused, and another deafening wave of silence washed over the room. “Take tomorrow off. Let’s go get our marriage license.” “?” “Are you insane?” “Every single black card of Harper’s that I froze will be transferred to you. We’ll sign a contract. You pretend to be my wife.” Wait. This transaction… doesn’t sound like a bad deal? The credit limit on just one of those cards was more than I could earn working like a dog for the rest of my life. “On the condition that we don’t interfere in each other’s personal lives. But to ensure my parents don’t see through the lie, you have to move in with me. I won’t control what you do.” Nolan laid out the terms slowly, like he was negotiating a corporate merger. I absorbed the information like a sponge. Finally, I just said, “Let me think about it.” “Don’t discuss this with Harper. She won’t agree to it.” “…” He knows me too well. “Give me your answer by tomorrow.” … That afternoon, I made up an excuse to take half the day off. I needed to go home and think this through. As absurd as it was, I desperately needed the money. The terms Nolan offered were practically a Maya-trapping device. Unlike Harper, I grew up poor and miserable. My mom died in childbirth. My dad loved her so much he couldn’t live without her; he jumped off the hospital roof. He didn’t die, but he was left completely paralyzed. A perfectly happy family was destroyed the moment I was born. I didn’t have a real home growing up. I bounced from relative to relative, living out of suitcases, constantly reading the room and catering to everyone else’s moods just to survive. I met Harper when I was working as a barista to pay my way through college. We bonded over being from the same hometown, but we were from completely different worlds. Knowing her made me realize that girls were actually allowed to be innocent, carefree, and blissfully happy. We truly became best friends during our junior year when a manipulative jerk scammed her out of $5,000. To get her money back, I chased the guy down five city blocks, tackled him, beat the crap out of him, and took the cash back. Five thousand dollars was more than my tuition and living expenses for all four years combined. He had easily swindled it with sweet talk. There was no way in hell I was letting him get away with it. From that day on, the way Harper looked at me changed. She stuck to me like glue, dragging me out to eat, drink, and party. I was willing to indulge her because she was also willing to sit in silence with me at the library for ten hours straight without a single complaint. Harper is a ride-or-die friend. Maya Certified. After graduation, I wanted to try my luck in New York. The big city always has more opportunities. Harper moved back home. She begged me to come with her, but I refused. I wanted to make more money to pay for my dad’s medical care, even though the odds of him recovering were nonexistent. I struggled in NYC for two years, sending almost every penny I made back home to keep my paralyzed father on life support. The turning point came a few months ago when the hospital finally declared him dead. I didn’t feel overwhelmed with grief; I just felt an immense, crushing weight lift off my shoulders. I was finally free of the burden of keeping him alive. All I had left was a mountain of medical debt. My debt to my parents was paid in full. I just wanted to live the soft life now. I’d pay off the debt slowly. I told Harper I was coming home to rot. Being poor was fine, as long as I was happy. I had suffered for twenty-six years. For my twenty-seventh year, I was going to live for Maya. So, when I say Nolan’s offer was tempting, I mean it was life-changing. The money he was offering would wipe out my medical debt instantly, allowing me to truly stop hustling for survival. Marriage didn’t mean anything to me anyway; I had never expected romance to magically fall into my lap. And now, I could literally get paid to be married. Why the hell not? So, in the end, I hid it from Harper, and I married her billionaire brother.

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At eighteen, I picked up a delinquent bad boy nobody else wanted. I tried so hard, but I could never warm his cold heart. Later, his childhood sweetheart appeared. That was when I realized he did have a gentle side—just not for me. The day I let go, I lied and told him I’d be right back. And then I never returned. Seven years later, reuniting on a film set, the now A-list Oscar winner grabbed my wrist: “‘Be right back’?” “Where the hell have you been?!” 01 My palms were sweating so much they were clammy. The newly crowned Best Actor, Chase Montgomery, was standing barely fifteen feet behind me. If I turned around, we’d be face-to-face. The Assistant Director spoke up. “Chase, the next scene is your reunion with your ex. You need to show a sense of longing and reluctance to let her go.” Chase let out a soft, mocking scoff. “Longing?” “You don’t think it fits the scene?” the AD asked. “She’s an ex. What’s there to miss?” His voice was exactly as it used to be—careless, lazy, and unrestrained. “Cece.” The discussion behind me continued. I couldn’t hear what the AD said next. But Chase’s cold, detached voice pierced my eardrums with crystal clarity: “My ex? I forgot about her ages ago. I don’t make a habit of going back for seconds.” Oh. Well, as his “seconds,” I had absolutely no intention of acknowledging him either. Once the movie wrapped, we’d go our separate ways. Perfect. Just as I was comforting myself, a coworker yelled at the top of her lungs: “Cece! Did you find the props yet?!” 02 The set behind me went dead silent. I grabbed the props and sprinted away in a panic. Chase didn’t chase after me. Maybe he didn’t hear it. Or maybe he did, and he just didn’t care. While setting up the soundstage, I pulled my coworker aside. “Next time, just call me ‘C’ instead of Cece.” “Why? Cece is cute.” “Going by an initial just sounds more professional on set.” She laughed and bought the excuse. This was my first gig as a co-director. Before I joined the crew, I knew Chase was the male lead. He was Hollywood royalty, a nepo baby with half the industry’s resources at his fingertips. But infuriatingly, he actually had the talent to back it up, winning an Academy Award at just twenty-five. And unluckily for him, I was his first love. I had hesitated to take the job. But I didn’t want to pass up such an incredible career opportunity, so I bit the bullet. I swore to myself I would never let him spot me. If he did, I was dead meat. Because seven years ago, our breakup was incredibly ugly. I left him a letter that read: “I knew you were Hollywood royalty from the start. I only got close to you so I could sell stories about your family to the tabloids. I actually hate street punks; I like preppy, educated guys. Don’t ever contact me again. Bye.” As carefree as those words sounded, my actual escape was pathetic. I had no idea how Chase felt when he read that letter. But I knew he was the type to hold a grudge. If he caught me, my career in Hollywood could be blacklisted in an instant. “Chase looks even better in person than on screen. His genetics are insane,” my coworker swooned. “Well, look at who his parents are. Two cinema legends. He was bound to look better than us mere mortals.” “I just love his vibe! So refined and elegant. Ugh, he must have been the Golden Boy in high school, right?” I almost choked on my own spit. Chase? The Golden Boy? Dead wrong. Not only was he not the Golden Boy, he was the notorious, violent bad boy everyone avoided like the plague. I remembered him sitting on the curb in the pouring rain, bruised and battered from a street fight, looking completely lifeless. It wasn’t until I walked up to him that he lifted his heavy eyelids. “Get lost.” His tone back then was like a rabid dog, ready to rip me to shreds. But I didn’t get lost. With trembling hands, I held my cheap floral umbrella over his head. That was how Chase and I began. I shook my head, forcing the memories out of my brain. The set was built, and we had a short break. The soundstage was too loud, so I slipped into the stairwell. The moment I pushed the heavy door open, the sharp smell of tobacco hit my nose. Chase was standing in the shadows, the glowing red cherry of his cigarette burning between his fingers. He lifted his lazy eyes and looked at me. Exactly like he did back then. 03 The stairwell was dark and suffocatingly quiet. “…Sorry, didn’t mean to intrude,” I muttered, keeping my head down as I turned to leave. But Chase called out, “What’s your job on set?” “Co-director.” “Just graduated?” “Yes.” “Landing a job under Director Davis right out of film school. That’s impressive.” “Thank you, Mr. Montgomery.” “How old are you?” “Twenty-five.” He let out a low, breathy chuckle. “We’re the same age, and you’re calling me ‘Mr. Montgomery’?” “The primary AD calls you that, and he’s forty-three.” “Say it again.” I froze. What? I forced the words through my teeth. “Mr. Montgomery.” In the dark, I couldn’t see clearly, but I swore the corners of Chase’s mouth curled up. It was a cold, emotionless smile. It made the hairs on my arms stand up. But I clung to hope. There was no way he recognized me. Compared to seven years ago, I was a completely different person. I went from a scrawny, malnourished beanpole to a girl people actually called pretty. Even my own relatives barely recognized me these days, let alone some guy in a pitch-black stairwell. “I’ll leave you to your break, Mr. Montgomery. I’m heading back.” “Wait.” He stopped me again. “What’s your name?” The question caught me completely off guard. 04 “Cecilia. “My name is Cecilia Evans.” “Have you ever gone by any other name?” “No.” Chase fell silent. A cold sweat broke out across my back. My real name used to be Ryan. I changed it later. He had lied to me back then, so I was lying to him now. We were even. During the summer before my sophomore year of high school, I found Chase on a street corner. He told me he had nowhere to go and no family. I believed him. I thought he was just an unwanted, broke kid, just like me. When I was little, my mom resented me for being a girl. When my parents divorced, they both started new families. They both had sons. Neither of them wanted me, so I was dumped in my aunt’s basement apartment. I was always an incredibly obedient kid. Because if I was good, at least they would feed me. Chase and I were polar opposites. He smoked, fought, and broke every rule in the book. I was quiet, introverted, and knew nothing but studying. When sophomore year started, we ended up in the same homeroom. I sat in the very front row; he sat in the very back. No one knew what his family did. There were even rumors that he was an orphan who lived on the streets. At school, we acted like total strangers. But no one knew that every night, Chase would knock on my basement window. I would clear a small space on the concrete floor and set up a sleeping mat for him. The next morning, before my aunt’s family woke up, he would leave, as if he had never been there at all. Chase constantly skipped class and always showed up covered in bruises. Every time, I was the one who applied the antiseptic. “Ryan,” he would hiss, “can you be a little more gentle?” “Call me Cece.” “Right. Cece.” Cece was my childhood nickname, given to me by my late grandmother. I vastly preferred it over Ryan, a name born out of my mother’s disappointment that I wasn’t a boy. Because Chase constantly slept on my floor, I subconsciously believed he had it worse than I did. When I forgot my textbook and the teacher yelled at me, Chase walked all the way from the back of the room and slammed his textbook onto my desk. When kids from other classes bullied me and I was too timid to fight back, Chase stood in front of me and declared that I was under his protection. I thought we were two broken souls finding solace in each other. It wasn’t until much later that I realized it was all a lie. Chase was Hollywood royalty. His family owned half the mansions in Beverly Hills and a fleet of sports cars. A single pair of his sneakers cost more than my entire wardrobe for the year. He was just using me to piss off his elitist family. When did I figure it out? My thoughts were interrupted. Back on set, a coworker shoved an iced matcha latte into my hands. “Blair Kensington is visiting the set again! She bought drinks for the whole crew. Look at them! The billionaire heiress and the A-list actor. They’re literally a match made in heaven!” I looked toward the director’s tent. Blair was currently whining, acting coy. Chase had his head tilted, listening to her patiently. Just like everyone else, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the picture-perfect scene. Suddenly, as if feeling my gaze, Chase turned his head. And looked right at me. 05 I instantly dropped my head. When I looked up again, Chase was no longer looking in my direction. Maybe it was just my imagination. Blair was still clinging to his arm. “Chase, please come to Paris with me for Fashion Week when you wrap this movie!” Her tone and inflection were exactly the same as they were seven years ago. I couldn’t help but fall back into my memories. In high school, Chase and I maintained a purely platonic relationship. Until graduation. That summer, after a late-night class party, I was followed by a group of drunk street punks. Chase practically fell from the sky and beat them to a pulp. Maybe it was the relief of finally being done with high school, or maybe it was because we were finally adults. Suddenly, looking at Chase just felt… right. I gathered my courage and confessed my feelings. After that, I initiated our first time holding hands, our first hug, our first kiss… Chase was never overly passionate, but he didn’t push me away either. He remained a tough, stubborn brick wall who could never utter a single romantic word. But in some ways, he was a decent boyfriend. He was always there when I called, and he was generous with his money. However, Chase never introduced me to his friends. Once, I went to a local pool hall to find him, hoping to surprise him. Instead, his face went rigid, and he snapped impatiently, “Don’t ever come here again.” I didn’t think much of it at the time. I just thought that was his personality. Until Blair Kensington appeared. She wore designer dresses and flawless makeup. She burst into my world like a blinding spotlight. She whined and called him “Chasey.” “Chasey, what are you doing in a dump like this? Where’s the new Ferrari you just bought? Take me for a spin!” The word “Ferrari” nearly gave me whiplash. Blair looked at me, her eyes wide and innocent. “Chasey, who is she?” “Hi,” I said. “I’m his girlfriend.” “Huh? Are you joking? Why would he ever look twice at you? I’m his fiancée. Our families have an arranged marriage.” “Bullshit.” Chase’s face went dark as he practically shoved Blair out the door. “Don’t listen to her. I never agreed to the engagement.” His explanation was incredibly weak. Later, when Chase’s parents tracked me down, I finally learned the truth. Chase was the ultimate nepo baby. His parents controlled a massive chunk of the entertainment industry. He had a terrible relationship with them. He intentionally transferred out of his elite private prep school to a public high school just to rebel. He intentionally refused to go home. His parents were always away shooting movies and barely paid attention to him, completely unaware of the street-thug lifestyle he was living. At the end of our meeting, his father looked at me and said: “Miss Evans, you might not realize this, but Chase is incredibly rebellious. He’s only dating you to spite us. He doesn’t actually love you. He’s pulled stunts like this before. If you don’t believe me, just watch how he treats Blair.” “He loves Blair. They grew up together, he just hasn’t realized his own feelings yet.” “You and us… we are simply not from the same world.” It felt like I had been struck by lightning. And soon enough, I realized his dad wasn’t lying. Even though Chase claimed she annoyed him, he was incredibly patient with Blair. He indulged her tantrums and caved to her demands. The worst incident happened a few weeks later. Blair was actively mocking me for being poor. But the second Chase walked around the corner, her face crumpled into a mask of pure victimhood. “Chase! Ryan just shoved me into those thugs over there! I was so scared!” Chase instantly panicked. “Cece, I told you not to mess with her.” Standing behind him, Blair stuck her tongue out at me in a victorious, mocking grimace. In that moment, I understood everything. Chase wasn’t an unfeeling iron wall. He just didn’t bloom for me. At the end of August, I accepted his parents’ offer. With their financial backing, I went abroad for college. Given my background, it was likely the only chance I’d ever get at a real future. On the day I left, I told Chase I wanted to go buy some chocolate. Chase instinctively pulled out his wallet. “Buy the most expensive kind. Get some for me too.” I didn’t take his money. “I’ll use my own. I… I’ll be right back.” “Yeah. I’ll wait for you.” And then, I never came back.

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By the time I transferred to his school, Ryder had already dated every pretty girl in the hallways. He used to joke with his friends, “I’d rather date a stray dog than date Harper.” I am Harper. But a month later, his best friend pinned me against the lockers and confessed his feelings. When Ryder saw the faint mark on my collarbone, he completely lost his mind. “Who gave you permission to touch her?” 1 “Um… could you pass this to Ryder for me?” I took the pale pink envelope. It was the eleventh love letter this month. Everyone knew I was Ryder’s childhood best friend, and everyone knew that out of all the girls in the world, I was the absolute last one he would ever like. So, they felt perfectly safe using me as their personal mail carrier. Just like always, when Ryder took the letter, he raised an eyebrow, thought for a second about who the girl might be, and let out a soft scoff. “My standards aren’t that low.” He tossed the letter back into my arms. “Someone on your level? No thanks.” His friends burst into laughter. Ryder looked at me, his eyes dripping with sarcasm. Why? Because the very first love letter Ryder ever tore to pieces was mine. 2 Ryder and I grew up next door to each other. Our parents were close friends, so naturally, everyone assumed we were close, too. And in the beginning, we were. Until one specific… accident. We were playing Truth or Dare. Ryder picked dare, and someone challenged him to kiss me. Back then, we were just awkward teenagers with too much pride. He asked me, “Do you mind?” Before I could even process the question, he leaned in and kissed me. “Tsk. Nothing special.” From that moment on, I was no longer the untouchable straight-A student in everyone’s eyes. I was just another one of Ryder’s possessions. 3 Ryder’s grades were terrible. Because of that, his parents constantly asked me to tutor him. But on the day we agreed to meet at the local library, I stood alone at the bus stop for nearly an hour. Eventually, I opened Snapchat and saw his story—he was at a sketchy gaming lounge, bragging about a ten-game win streak. I took an Uber to the lounge. The air inside was thick with vape smoke. There was a girl literally sitting on his lap. Her friends were cheering him on. Suddenly, he turned his head and locked eyes with me. He gave me a nasty, wicked smirk. 4 “Harper, are you out of your freaking mind?!” Ryder had been screamed at by his parents, and his car keys and allowance were confiscated. He couldn’t go to the gaming lounge anymore, all because I snitched. “You shouldn’t be hanging around places like that,” I said, emphasizing every word. Back then, I hid my massive crush on him behind a wall of stubborn, self-righteous concern. But all my care only bought his growing disgust. Ryder grabbed my chin. “What gives you the right to control me?” “Did you honestly think that just because we kissed, you’re my girlfriend? What a joke!” 5 Ryder was undeniably gorgeous. Combined with his rebellious, bad-boy attitude, he quickly became the most popular guy in school. Girls lined up to try and tame him. He never turned them down, playing the field with a casual, heartless charm. Even when he was just shooting hoops, his skills had the bleachers screaming his name. But Ryder didn’t hold back. He hurled the basketball directly, and violently, at me. “Oops. Sorry.” He sounded entirely bored as he watched me clutch my stinging arm. “You’re not going to hold a grudge against me, right, my little childhood friend?” After that day, the whole school knew: Ryder hated me. 6 Gradually, I accepted that fact. I took the carefully written love letter I had poured my teenage heart into and buried it deep in a drawer. I stopped paying attention to him. But in front of our parents, we still had to play the part of best friends. “Ryder’s grades have really improved lately! It must be all thanks to Harper. Here, I cut up some fruit for you two,” his mother said with a bright smile. Ryder looked like he was in a great mood. But he subtly shot me a warning glare. His grades didn’t improve because of me. They improved because he was “studying” after hours with Stella, the most popular girl in our grade. I knew, because I had caught them making out in an empty classroom. 7 I had already tried to erase Ryder from my world. But we went to the same school; avoiding him completely was impossible. As a consistent straight-A student, I had just been nominated for State Honor Scholar, and I needed to give a speech the next day. I stayed late after school to rehearse in the auditorium. Walking down the hall, I passed an empty classroom. The sounds coming from inside were quiet but unmistakable. I just turned my head, and through the gap in the blinds, I locked eyes with Ryder. He had Stella pinned against a desk. In the brief second he looked up, he caught me. Right then, I knew he was adding another strike to my name. 8 Stella, Ryder’s new girlfriend, used to be the runner-up for Valedictorian. But after she started dating him, her grades visibly tanked. This quickly caught the counselors’ attention. They pulled me into the office. “Has Stella been acting strangely lately? Is she hanging around a bad crowd?” I just shook my head. “I don’t know.” But secrets never stay buried. Somehow, word got out that I had been questioned. Ryder and Stella’s relationship was exposed. His parents found out, and his dad—a man with a terrifying temper—dragged him home and beat him. My parents weren’t home that day. Ryder forcefully barged into my bedroom. “I underestimated you.” He shoved me hard. I lost my balance and crashed into my desk. One of the drawers flew out, spilling its contents across the floor. Ryder’s grip on my wrist tightened, then froze. Because we both saw it. Lying on the floor was the pale pink love letter. It had my name on it, and his. And he recognized my handwriting perfectly. 9 “Oh… so you’re just jealous?” Ryder’s face lit up with mocking realization. He ripped the love letter to shreds, then grabbed me. I struggled against his grip. “I didn’t snitch on you!” He raised an eyebrow. “I have something more important to deal with right now.” Ryder snatched a pair of scissors from my desk and snipped off a lock of my hair. “Harper, I would rather date a dog than date you.”

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1 I ended up with the guy who ruthlessly bullied me in high school. When the morning light spilled into the room, I barely moved my arm. Instantly, the arm clamped around my waist pulled me tighter. Roman Vance buried his face in my neck, kissing my skin. His voice was thick and raspy with sleep. “Did you sleep well last night?” I stiffened for a second, then obediently nodded. If this were the past, I might have put up a slight struggle. But he had spent the last three weeks teaching me a very clear lesson. Obedience was the only way. He reached for my hand resting by my side, intertwining his fingers with mine. He let out a low, amused chuckle against my hair. “You didn’t throw the ring away this time?” … He was talking about the diamond ring resting on my ring finger. There had been two others before this. One I hid in the back of the freezer. The other I tossed into the decorative fountain down in the courtyard. I didn’t want to recall the consequences of losing those first two rings. But the consequence of keeping the third one was clear: I was going to marry him. The man I feared more than anyone else in the world. 2 I loved my time in the shower. Because I didn’t have to face him, and I wouldn’t trigger any terrifying memories. But as I stared blankly into the fogged-up vanity mirror, the steam couldn’t hide the glaring, harsh marks scattered across my skin. My eyes were bloodshot. I just stood there, staring at my reflection. Until Roman’s slow, methodical knocking echoed from the bathroom door. “Taking a long time in there.” “If you don’t come out, I’m coming in.” “…” It wasn’t like he hadn’t barged in unannounced before. I immediately turned off the water and wrapped myself in a towel. … Breakfast was arranged perfectly on the dining table, though Roman probably didn’t have time to eat. The morning news played in the background. With his long, elegant fingers, he cleanly and sharply tied his necktie. Noticing my eyes fixed on him, he leaned over and tapped my nose. “Like what you see? Want to tie it for me next time?” I turned my face away. He just let out a careless, low laugh. Deliberately, he picked up the glass of milk I had been drinking from and took a sip, placing his lips exactly over my lipstick mark. … “Be good. Wait for me to come home.” “I’m taking you dress shopping tonight.” 3 Roman left. I stared blankly at the TV for a long time. Then, I picked up the glass he had just drank from and hurled it violently at the screen. The TV only shuddered, but the heavy glass shattered into a hundred pieces across the hardwood floor. The loud crash made the housekeeper gasp in shock. But I just pulled my knees to my chest, curled up in my chair, and cried. … Roman Vance was my walking nightmare. Back in high school, out of the entire clique that made my life hell, he was the cruelest. I remember him standing over me with that arrogant smirk, taking my backpack and dumping all my textbooks from the second-floor balcony. He orchestrated the entire class to isolate me. With his encouragement, a group of girls dragged me into the restroom and slapped me across the face. As long as he led the charge, no one dared to help me. Because Roman was the heir to a massive corporate empire. His dad’s company had funded the entire new science wing of our school. He mocked me flawlessly, and back then, bullying me simply became the school trend. I heard that his handsome face was the subject of countless girls’ fantasies. But to me, he was the demon that kept me awake night after night, shivering in terror. And yet, this same man… Seven years after graduation… Said he was going to marry me. 4 I could never shake the habit of trembling whenever I saw Roman. Even though we had been sharing a bed for three weeks. No one would help me. When my mom found out a man of Roman’s status wanted to marry me, she acted like she had won the lottery. Roman seemed to have switched cars again today. The backseat of this one was incredibly spacious. I hated cars with spacious backseats. The privacy partition was rolled up. No one in the front could see what he was doing to me in the back. But Roman was quieter than usual today. Probably because I wouldn’t stop shaking. He had turned the heat up in the car, but the tremors wouldn’t stop. Ignoring my resistance, he pulled me flush against his chest. “Hazel, are you really that terrified?” The man’s low whisper brushed against my ear. He knew exactly who caused me to be like this. “I’m taking you to pick out a wedding dress. Doesn’t that sound nice?” I tried with everything I had to suppress my trembling, but a sarcastic, broken laugh escaped my lips anyway. Who would have ever thought? The very man who pushed me into the abyss… Was now gently whispering about wedding dresses. 5 The boutique Roman brought me to was located inside a private, gated mansion. Crystal chandeliers cast a brilliant, blinding light over the stunning gowns displayed on mannequins. I wasn’t in the mood to look, let alone choose. I just let Roman and the designer discuss custom styles for me. I let the assistants wrap measuring tapes around my body like I was a doll. The boutique had a small courtyard garden in the back. That interested me more. So, while they talked, I lifted the hem of my skirt and walked out to the small koi pond. There was a wrought-iron gate at the back of the garden. It looked like if I could just pass through it, it would lead to infinite freedom. In truth, I had thought about running away a million times. But every time I mustered the courage, a crushing realization hit me: I had nowhere to run. My mom desperately wanted this marriage. She had grabbed my hands and begged me to stop causing trouble. I sat by the edge of the pond until Roman finished his meeting and came to find me. “What are you thinking about?” He always did this. Looking down at me from high above. So, I rolled up my sleeve and held my arm out to him. On my wrist was a small, circular red scar, bordered by thick, raised tissue. “Look. The cigarette burn you gave me.” I was referring to a day in high school. He was in a bad mood, dragged me into a corner, and pressed a lit cigarette directly into my skin. It hurt so much. It hurt so badly that I forgot what else he did to me that day. The man looking down at me froze. For a long moment, he just stared. Then, he crouched down in front of me. Even though I hated to admit it, Roman’s face was flawless. Perfect. Like a masterpiece sculpted by the greatest artist of ancient Greece. If he looked at anyone with a tender expression, they would drown in his eyes. I guess that’s why they say the devil always wears the most intoxicating face. The flame of his lighter flickered. Right in front of me, he lit a cigarette. I flinched automatically, terrified the burning ash would fall onto my arm again. But the next second, without batting an eye, he pressed the glowing, burning tip of the cigarette directly into his own wrist. In the exact same spot as my scar. He looked at me quietly. “Does that make you feel a little better, Hazel?” “…” I looked down. The ashes crumbled, and the raw, fresh burn was glaring to look at. Suddenly, he reached out and pulled me into his arms. “Hazel. If only you could give a fraction of your pain to me.” Summer fireflies drifted upward over the pond. I stared blankly at the rippling moonlight. “Roman, you know full well that you’re the one who caused all that pain.” His body went entirely rigid. Then, slowly, he began stroking my hair. “Then let me atone for it. Please?” “…”

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My wife’s “one that got away” sent me an explosive video. In the frame, they were wrapped in a passionate embrace, their temples pressed together, whispering intimately. With tears in their eyes, they confessed how desperately they had missed each other. At the end of the video, her first love arrogantly showed off to me. “Ethan, you really are useless. After all these years, you still couldn’t make Chloe fall in love with you.” Later, I chose to divorce her, stepping aside so they could be together. But Chloe just laughed out of pure anger, a sharp hint of mockery resting in the corners of her eyes. “Ethan, what makes you think you have the right to bring up divorce?” “You’re nothing but a pathetic loser whose own parents didn’t even want him.” I stared at her in absolute disbelief. It turns out that when someone no longer wants to love you, they will ruthlessly plunge the knife into your deepest wounds without a second thought. 1 In the dead of night, the jarring ring of my phone jolted me awake. Rubbing my throbbing temples, I forced myself to sit up and answer the call. “Ethan, your wife is here keeping me company.” The voice on the other end was unfamiliar yet unmistakable—Carter Pierce. It instantly shattered whatever exhaustion I had left. Without thinking, I blurted out: “What are you talking about?” As I spoke, my hand reached out to feel the space beside me in bed. It was completely empty! Chloe Sterling really wasn’t here! Carter’s voice floated through the speaker again. “Chloe came to my welcome-home party. Why didn’t you come?” “Don’t tell me she sneaked out without telling you.” His words made the hand gripping my phone tremble. A fine, needle-like pain began to spread across my chest. Carter was right. Chloe hadn’t told me a thing. Just a few hours ago, she had been curled up in my arms, acting sweet and affectionate. But the moment I fell asleep, she turned around and ran straight to the childhood sweetheart she had been pining for. Carter let out a light cough, his voice laced with amusement: “How about I send you the address? You can come down and see for yourself if Chloe is with me.” After hanging up, Carter texted me the location. Right below it was a video clip. In the video, Chloe and Carter were holding each other tight, faces pressed close, pouring out how much they had missed one another. With the volume turned all the way up, I could clearly hear Chloe’s soft, desperate murmur: “Carter, I missed you so much.” Another voice message from Carter popped up. “Sorry, Ethan. Chloe said she just couldn’t handle how much she missed me.” “But man, you really are useless. After all these years, you still couldn’t make Chloe fall in love with you.” My heart violently shuddered. I could perfectly picture his arrogant, triumphant smile. So certain. So incredibly confident. I slowly closed my eyes, suppressing my breathing, my eyes burning with unshed tears. Carter was right. I was useless. After all these years, I still couldn’t find a way into Chloe’s heart. 2 I followed the address Carter gave me to an upscale lounge in the city. The lights were blinding, the atmosphere dripping with extravagance. In the dead center of the room sat Chloe and Carter, surrounded by people treating them like royalty. Everyone was cheering them on: “Carter is finally back! You have no idea how long Chloe has been waiting for you.” I scanned the room. These were all Chloe’s closest friends—the ones who had always despised me. All for Carter’s sake. They had mocked me, openly and secretly, countless times. Now, facing Carter, they were radiating blatant warmth and approval. Swallowing the bitter taste in my throat, I pulled out my phone and called Chloe. When her screen lit up, she glanced at it and rejected my call without a second of hesitation. Then, she sent me a text: “Something came up at work. Go to sleep without me.” I stared intently at Chloe from a distance. Her face was completely relaxed as she typed that message. There wasn’t a single flicker of guilt or panic. It really was. Almost laughable. 3 “Chloe, I heard you got married.” Carter’s words snapped me out of my thoughts. He leaned his body slightly toward Chloe, his posture undeniably intimate. Chloe bit her lower lip, hesitating for a moment. Carter’s expression immediately darkened. Seeing this, the friends around them quickly jumped in to defend her: “Don’t be mad, Carter. Chloe only ever had you in her heart.” “Yeah, you can’t blame Chloe. It was that charity case who wouldn’t stop pestering her.” Charity case? So this was how Chloe allowed them to talk about me. Carter let out a scoff, his tone dripping with disdain: “Who is this guy? Does he have zero self-respect?” “Did he only marry Chloe for her money?” Chloe seized the opportunity to cut them off, interrupting the conversation: “Alright, enough. Let’s not talk about him. It kills the mood.” Kills the mood? I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. It turns out that throwing your whole heart at someone doesn’t guarantee the clouds will part to reveal the moon. Back in the day, before I even had the chance to confess my feelings to her. She had already gotten together with Carter. Their romance was loud and highly publicized. For a time, they were the golden couple everyone envied. But the good times didn’t last. In our second year after graduation, the Sterling family’s investments collapsed. They were on the brink of bankruptcy. Unwilling to suffer through poverty with her, Carter ruthlessly abandoned her and moved abroad. I was the one who stayed by her side, encouraging her. I even emptied my entire life savings to invest in the Sterling family’s failing projects. I abandoned my dream of becoming a photographer and accompanied her to endless corporate dinners and networking events. To protect her from the sleazy investors, I drank myself into a stupor at every single dinner. It ended with me suffering severe stomach hemorrhaging and passing out. When I woke up, she was keeping vigil by my hospital bed, her eyes swollen like walnuts. “Ethan, what would I do without you?” With the woman I loved crying in my arms. In that moment, my heart melted completely. Over the next few years, I shielded her from every hardship. I sacrificed half my life to drag the Sterling Corporation back on track. But as the company stabilized, Chloe’s attitude toward me grew increasingly cold. She didn’t love me. And because of that. Not a single one of her friends respected me. They went out of their way to humiliate and make things difficult for me. In their eyes. Carter was the only man worthy of Chloe Sterling. 4 Carter smiled and poured himself a glass of liquor. Chloe immediately stopped him. “Your stomach is bad. Don’t drink.” Carter took the opportunity to grab her hand, intertwining their fingers tightly. Seeing this, the crowd around them started hooting and hollering, urging them to get back together. Completely ignoring the fact that Chloe was a married woman. Carter’s eyes reddened right on cue. He looked at Chloe with deep, affectionate longing: “Chloe, I had my reasons for leaving the country back then.” “Now, I’ve risked everything to come back. I just want to ask you one thing: Do you still love me?” The private booth instantly fell dead silent. Everyone held their breath, waiting for her answer. I was waiting, too. But Chloe didn’t answer right away. She just stared at her hand, firmly grasped in Carter’s. A trace of struggle flashed through her eyes. Finally, as the corners of Carter’s eyes grew redder, she slowly opened her mouth: “Yes.” Carter looked as if he hadn’t fully processed it, asking blankly: “What?” Chloe’s eyes filled with a radiant smile as she repeated: “Carter, I still love you.” Even though the lounge’s heating was on full blast, I felt like I had been plunged into a freezer, an agonizing chill piercing me to the bone. Amidst the roaring cheers of the crowd. Carter wept tears of joy and pulled Chloe into a tight embrace. As she hugged him back, she turned her head and spotted me. A flicker of panic flashed through Chloe’s eyes before her face darkened completely. She gently pushed Carter away and walked briskly toward me. “How did you know I was here?” Carter followed closely behind, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and smiling as he chimed in: “Let’s not make a scene.” “Ethan was probably just worried about you. He probably wanted to track your location so he followed you.” Chloe’s eyes widened in fury, her voice raising as she interrogated me: “Ethan, are you stalking me?!” I stood frozen for a few seconds, laughing bitterly in my head. When a person doesn’t love you. Everything you do is wrong. Everything you do has an ulterior motive. And above all, nothing you say will be trusted. 5 When I got back home, I collapsed onto the sofa, completely drained. Because of my appearance, the reunion party had ended on a sour note. Chloe had abandoned me outside the lounge, taking her driver to personally escort Carter home. Her excuse? As a friend, she was worried about Carter since he had just returned to the country. As for her actual husband, she didn’t spare a single thought. I stepped out of the shower to find that Chloe had returned. Her face was thunderous. I looked at her numbly: “What’s wrong?” Chloe kicked off her heels, lifted her chin, and stared at me with pure disgust: “Next time, don’t ever stalk people again. It’s repulsive.” I had a million explanations lined up in my throat, but meeting her impatient, hostile glare… I just squeezed out a dry, hollow sentence: “Chloe, I have never stalked you.” I desperately suppressed my emotions, trying to explain: “Carter called me and sent me a video of you two…” Chloe slammed her water glass violently onto the table, her voice trembling with rage: “Ethan, you’re supposed to be a man!” “I never realized you had so little class. Not only do you lie, but you frame other people to cover it up.” She paused, then added the final blow: “You can’t even begin to compare to Carter.” A sharp, stabbing pain ripped through my chest. In a fraction of a second, the last remaining shred of my sanity vanished. “Can’t compare? Wasn’t he the one who abandoned you like trash?!” “The second he comes crawling back, you wag your tail and run right back to him!” “Chloe Sterling, how do you sleep at night? Are you doing right by yourself? Are you doing right by me?!” That last sentence tore from my throat, raw and on the verge of breaking. Chloe grabbed the heavy glass from the table and hurled it directly at me. She shot to her feet, screaming back: “I put a roof over your head and food on your table! How have I ever done you wrong?!” “My friends called you a gold digger, and they were absolutely right!” Suddenly, I felt an eerie sense of calm. It turns out that when your heart breaks past a certain threshold, your entire body just goes numb. “Let’s get a divorce.” Chloe froze. “What did you say?” She let out a laugh of pure disbelief, her eyes dripping with arrogant mockery. “Stop throwing a tantrum, Ethan.” “You’re nothing but a pathetic loser whose own parents threw away like garbage.” “Except for me, who else in this world would ever want you?”

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I was kept as a caged bird for ten years. Until the day I died, he never once promised me a wedding. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to ten years ago. To avoid repeating the nightmare, the very first thing I did after my rebirth was track down his future arch-nemesis. At this moment, the man was still just a broke, grease-stained mechanic. I slapped my debit card onto the table. “Marry me. After we’re married, you get my entire paycheck!” The man gritted his teeth. “For two grand a month, you’ve got a deal.” 1 I proposed to Jake Miller. At that moment, the man had a cigarette dangling from his lips. “What exactly do you see in me?” I thought about it for a long time before squeezing out, “You’re handsome?” “Heh.” His scoff made my face burn bright red. I gathered my courage and asked, “So, is that a yes?” Jake didn’t say anything. He just stared at me intently. It was as if he could see right through my little scheme. I braced myself and met his gaze, hoping he could see my sincerity. After a long silence, he smiled. With a careless, cynical drawl, he replied, “A wife delivering herself right to my door? Why wouldn’t I say yes?” And just like that, I got married. On the second day after traveling back in time. Clutching the marriage license in my pocket, a deep sense of unreality washed over me. I had actually met Jake in my past life. It was during my seventh year of being locked away by Carter Sterling. I had escaped from the mansion, completely penniless. Wandering the streets, I ran into Jake. By then, he was already a renowned, incredibly successful entrepreneur. Impeccably dressed, he carried a ruthless aura that warned strangers to stay away. I begged him to save me. Jake helped arrange a safe house for me and provided a plane ticket out of the country. But eventually, Carter still found me. Unwilling to dwell on those dark memories, I looked up at Jake and asked, “Where to next?” “Taking you home.” I blinked, surprised. “Didn’t we… just get married?” “So?” “So, weren’t you planning to… take me to our home?” 2 Jake lived in a half-finished apartment complex. The roof hadn’t even been fully sealed yet. The place was swarming with construction workers coming and going. “I used to do day labor here and got to know the site manager. Until the building is officially handed over, I’m crashing here to save on rent,” Jake explained voluntarily, probably noticing the confusion in my eyes. The apartment was raw, bare-concrete industrial style. Aside from a canvas camp cot, it was completely empty. The bathroom didn’t even have a flushing toilet, and the shower was just a single cold-water spigot protruding from the wall. Jake looked at me. “Regretting it? It’s not too late to run.” “I don’t regret it.” I set my suitcase to the side. “Are we both sleeping on this tonight? The bed seems a little small.” Jake narrowed his eyes. “It’s big enough.” When night fell, I lay on Jake’s camp cot. The man had casually laid out a couple of newspapers and lay down on the hard concrete floor. There were no curtains, and the bright moonlight poured right through the glass. “Jake, are you asleep?” “Yeah.” Worried he’d catch a cold sleeping on the concrete, I scooted over to one edge of the cot. “Do you want to come up and sleep here?” The bed was narrow, but if we squeezed, we could make it work. A few seconds passed before Jake replied, “If I go up there, you can forget about sleeping.” I gripped my blanket tighter. “I don’t mind.” The moment the words left my mouth, Jake lunged onto the cot and hovered over me like a beast granted permission. Caught off guard, I instinctively turned my head away. The weight above me lifted slightly. In the moonlight, I saw a trace of mockery on Jake’s face. “If you can’t go through with it, don’t play games. I’m a simple guy; I tend to take things seriously.” Saying that, he moved to get back down onto his newspapers. Realizing his intention, I grabbed the hem of his shirt. My fingers slipped through the fabric, brushing against his skin. Jake shuddered, a dark, complex emotion flashing in his eyes as he looked down at me. I bit my lip hard. “I really am willing.” Terrified he would say no, my hand recklessly traced a line across his stomach. Jake’s eyes darkened instantly. “You’re out of chances to back out now.” Unlike the gym-sculpted muscles Carter used to flaunt. Jake’s body was naturally tanned from years of manual labor. His core was rock-solid, his entire frame radiating raw power. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. He only stopped when I was sobbing and trembling. He roughly kissed away my tears and muttered, “So delicate.” His tone sounded almost dissatisfied. My whole body was aching terribly, and instead of comforting me, he had scolded me for no reason. I got upset, turning on my side and refusing to look at him. The man didn’t try to coax me. He got out of bed and walked off somewhere. Clutching the blanket, the more I thought about it, the more wronged I felt. In my past life, I was kept as Carter’s caged bird for ten years. It was only through death that I finally found freedom. I thought heaven had taken pity on me by giving me a second chance. I hadn’t expected Jake to act like a completely different person. Just as I was crying, a hot towel was suddenly pressed against my face. I didn’t know when Jake had returned, but he was holding a plastic basin and a steaming towel. “Crying?” I refused to admit it. “No.” Jake clumsily wiped my face, then turned to wring out the towel. “What are you doing?” “There’s no hot water here, so you can’t shower. A wipe-down will make you feel better.” My skin did feel sticky and uncomfortable. Forgetting my anger, I blushed and tried to grab the towel. “I can do it myself.” “Stay put.” Ignoring my protests, Jake pulled back the blanket and applied the hot towel. A moment later, I heard his voice. “Stop being mad. I’ll go easier next time, alright?” His voice carried a hint of awkwardness. The heat rushed to my cheeks, and the corners of my mouth curled up. I pulled the blanket up to hide my face. 3 When I woke up the next morning, Jake was already fully dressed. Two breakfast buns sat on a low, makeshift table. I had no idea when he had gone out to buy them. “I boiled some water. Finish washing up, and I’ll drop you off at work.” “It’s fine, I can go by myself.” Jake shot me a look. “There are a lot of construction workers around here. It’s not safe for a little girl like you to walk alone.” Then he added, “Call me when you get off work tonight. I’ll pick you up.” As I sluggishly washed up, I finally noticed the debit card sitting on the table. It was the same one I had given Jake when I proposed yesterday. “You forgot your card.” Jake barely glanced at it. “Keep it. I haven’t sunk so low that I need to live off a woman’s money.” Liar. He was clearly broke. Since he didn’t want it, I didn’t argue. I mentally calculated that maybe I could use the savings to rent us a better apartment. Or, if Jake refused to move, at least buy a real bed. Even though I didn’t have the “golden cage” from my past life, looking at Jake made me feel an inexplicable sense of security. That good mood lasted all the way to work. As soon as I walked into the teachers’ office, Lily Evans strutted over, looking secretive. “Maya, I’ve got great news for you!” She lowered her voice. “My cousin has his eye on you.” Me: ? She pulled me aside conspiratorially. “My cousin isn’t just anybody. He’s incredibly handsome, has a great personality, and graduated from Harvard. His dad is literally a billionaire. So many rich heiresses throw themselves at him, and he doesn’t bat an eye. But yesterday, he suddenly asked me to set up a blind date with you.” Lily’s eyes sparkled. “Girl, your golden ticket has arrived!” Harvard grad. Billionaire father. A name instantly exploded in my mind. My face drained of color. Controlling my expression, I used the most polite tone I could muster to decline. “You might have to apologize to your cousin for me. I don’t have that kind of luck. I’m already married.” Lily didn’t believe me. “We’ve been coworkers for a year. You’ve never even had a boyfriend. How could you suddenly be married?” “It’s true. We got the license, just haven’t had the ceremony yet. I’ll send you an invitation when we do.” I forced a smile. “I have two classes back-to-back right now. I need to head to the classroom.” With that, I quickly walked away. It wasn’t until I stepped out of the office that all the strength seemed to leave my body. Carter Sterling. In my past life, he definitely hadn’t appeared this early. Why was he showing up so far in advance? And how did he know Lily and I taught at the same elementary school? My hands and feet turned ice cold. I comforted myself with the thought that in this life, I was already married. I already had Jake. I would absolutely never repeat the same mistakes. 4 Carter’s premature appearance definitely threw off my mood. I was distracted all day. My right eyelid wouldn’t stop twitching. I had a sinking feeling something was about to happen. Sure enough, the moment I walked out of the school gates after work, I saw a black SUV parked right in front. The logo was flashy and arrogant. Spotting me, the man stepped out of the vehicle, holding a massive bouquet of roses. “Miss Brooks.” He called out to me, introducing himself with a polished smile. “Forgive the intrusion. I’m Carter Sterling, Lily’s cousin.” The sidewalk was crowded with students heading home and parents picking up their kids. Carter’s bouquet of roses was glaringly conspicuous. Some people recognized me and started clapping, cheering for me to say yes. My face turned pale. “What do you want?” “Don’t be nervous. I just wanted to get to know you,” Carter said, the corners of his mouth lifting. “I happened to see you while waiting for Lily a while back, and I felt a very strong connection. I know I showed up uninvited today. Don’t feel pressured; just treat it as making a new friend.” Even though Carter was playing the part perfectly, I could still sense the crazy, obsessive gleam in his eyes. In my moment of helplessness, I suddenly spotted Jake in the corner. He was straddling a beat-up motorcycle, a cigarette hanging from his lips, watching me with a sideways glance. He looked entirely unbothered, as if none of this had anything to do with him. Like a drowning person spotting driftwood, I sprinted straight toward him. The familiar scent of motor oil on Jake instantly grounded me. I turned back to Carter. “I explained this to Lily earlier. I’m married.” Carter clearly hadn’t expected me to be married. The smile froze on his face. His gaze drifted to Jake, and a flash of pure hatred crossed his eyes. Even though he masked it instantly, my sharp senses caught it. But… hatred? This was supposed to be his very first time meeting Jake. Why would there be hatred? Carter recovered his expression quickly, smoothing out his emotions. “That was presumptuous of me. I should have asked about Miss Brooks’s relationship status first. Since I already bought the flowers, I won’t take them back. Let me just wish you a happy marriage.” He held the bouquet out toward me. “Fresh flowers for a beautiful woman. I’m sure your husband won’t mind.” Before I could speak, Jake suddenly laughed. “Who says I don’t mind?” He stared Carter down. “I’m a petty guy. I can’t stand seeing my gorgeous wife accepting things from other men.” With that, Jake grabbed a small pink helmet and slapped it onto my head. “Put it on.” Looking at the brand-new helmet, my mood inexplicably lifted. I couldn’t help but ask, “Did you buy this just for me?” “Fished it out of a dumpster.” I grinned. “Well, next time can you fish out a blue one? I like blue.” Jake raised an eyebrow and made a move to snatch the helmet back. I hurriedly strapped it on tight, knocking on the hard shell twice with my knuckles. “Does it look good?” A hint of amusement danced in Jake’s eyes. He reached out and snapped the visor down over my face. Then he muttered, “Idiot.” When I looked back, Carter was already gone. Thanks to today’s spectacle, everyone knew my husband was a grease monkey at a repair shop. During recess, I overheard a few teachers gossiping. “So what if she’s pretty? She still ended up with a guy like that.” “You guys didn’t see it, but his motorcycle was a total wreck. Sounded like a damn tractor.” The group burst into laughter. Seeing me walk in, one of them purposely asked, “Maya, where does your hubby fix cars? My husband just bought a Mercedes; we’ll have him do the maintenance from now on to throw some business his way.” “Sure, I’ll text you the address later.” Lily couldn’t stand it anymore and dragged me out of the office. “Are you missing a piece of your brain? They’re openly mocking you, and you don’t even talk back?” “You’re pretty, you have a solid career, how could you settle for…” Lily paused, then continued, “I’m a straight shooter, so don’t get mad. You’re just fresh out of college and naive. You think love conquers all, but when reality hits, you’re going to regret it. Seriously, think about my cousin. He said he doesn’t even mind that you’re technically a divorcee now…” “Lily, that’s a nice bag.” I cut her off, my eyes landing on the Hermès Birkin on her desk. “New?” Lily froze, her face flushing red. “Yeah.” Lily was living on a teacher’s salary. It was glaringly obvious who gave her the bag, and why. I didn’t press the issue. “My husband and I are doing great. How we live our lives is our business. Don’t talk badly about him again. I don’t want to hear it.” 5 When I got off work that day, Jake didn’t show up on his motorcycle. “Where’s your bike?” “Sold it.” Jake didn’t offer any further explanation. The corners of his mouth curled up. “Let’s go.” Jake pulled me along by the hand, but we walked in a different direction than usual. I had no idea what he was up to until we stopped at an apartment complex just a few blocks from my school. “Third floor. Let’s go take a look.” A faint suspicion began to form in my heart. But I didn’t dare believe it. I slowly walked up to the third floor. The door to the middle unit was wide open. Stepping inside, I found a cozy one-bedroom apartment. It wasn’t huge, but it was decorated incredibly warmly. The curtains were the color of the sky, fluttering slightly in the breeze. The setting sun spilled through the windows, bathing the entire room in a golden glow. He actually remembered that I liked blue. I couldn’t describe the feeling. Living across two lifetimes, I had stayed in luxurious mansions and rundown, raw concrete husks. But only in this exact moment did my heart feel completely swollen with happiness. “You sold your motorcycle to rent this place?” Because it was in a good school district, the buildings here were older but the rent was sky-high. Jake’s savings wouldn’t have been enough to cover the standard first month’s rent plus a security deposit. Jake ignored the comment about the motorcycle, simply saying, “It’s close to your school, so your commute is easier. Plus, the other place didn’t have hot water. You’re too delicate to handle that.” Before he even finished speaking, I turned and threw my arms around his waist. Jake was entirely stunned by my sudden leap into his arms. He froze for a moment, then slowly wrapped his arms around my back. “Alright, it’s not time for you to cry yet. Save the crying for tonight, yeah?” So inappropriate! That night, Jake successfully made me cry. The man pulled me into his arms, thoroughly satisfied, and kissed the corner of my mouth. “My wife was right. A double bed really is way better than a single cot. We should have moved sooner.” I-I never said that! I held back my temper, resisting the urge to kick him off the bed. The next day was the weekend. Jake and I had planned to go to the unfinished building to grab the last of my things. By afternoon, Jake still hadn’t come home. “I probably won’t have time today. Something came up at the shop.” Jake called me midway through the day. I didn’t think much of it. “I’ll just go by myself, then.” It wasn’t a lot of stuff anyway, just a single suitcase. It sounded chaotic on Jake’s end, and the call disconnected before I could hear his response. Previously, Jake never let me go to that building alone. Mostly because there were too many construction workers around, and he felt it was unsafe. But it was broad daylight, and I was just grabbing a bag. What could go wrong? I didn’t expect that the moment I walked into the room, three or four workers would follow me inside. “You living here all by yourself, miss?” My heart dropped. “Who are you? Get out.” “We work here. Why should we get out?” The one leading them laughed. “We’ve been watching you and that guy play house in here. You guys get pretty wild. Why don’t you play with us for a bit?” The room was completely empty. I couldn’t even find anything to use as a weapon. Gritting my teeth, I turned and made a mad dash for the door. The man reacted fast, grabbing me by the hair and throwing me to the ground. “Little girl’s got a great body. I’ve been craving you for a while. Today’s my lucky day.” Saying that, he lunged down on top of me. I fought back frantically, screaming at the top of my lungs. Just as his hands were about to tear at my clothes, the door was suddenly kicked open. The man pinning me down was punched and sent flying to the floor. The other two workers immediately moved to jump in. “I’m the developer of this property. Are you absolutely sure you want to lay a hand on me?” The three men exchanged nervous glances, seeming to weigh the truth of his words. A moment later, they cursed and ran off. Carter Sterling took off his suit jacket and draped it over my shoulders, turning to his assistant. “Find those men. Handle them however you see fit.” The assistant nodded and walked away. Only then did Carter look down at me. “Remember me?” My knuckles turned white as I clutched the jacket. “No, I don’t.” I shoved the jacket back into his chest and grabbed my suitcase. “Thank you for your help today.” As I walked past him, Carter suddenly grabbed my wrist. “You seem terrified of me.” “We don’t know each other. Why would I be terrified?” “Fair point.” Carter let go of me. “What about you? What are you doing here? If I remember correctly, this complex isn’t finished yet.” “None of your business.” “True, but I developed this land.” Carter stared at me intently. “Squatting is illegal. What do you say I sue Jake for trespassing?” “What exactly do you want?” “I want you.” Carter made absolutely no effort to hide his intentions. “Maya, I told you from the very beginning. I want you.” “And I told you, I’m married.” “That doesn’t matter to me.” I pressed my lips into a tight line. He leaned in so we were at eye level. “That man can’t give you the life you deserve. You’re a pearl, and you shouldn’t be gathering dust in his hands. You can either watch your man rot in a prison cell, or you can come live like royalty with me. It’s your choice.” I gripped my suitcase tightly, turned my head, and walked out the door. This time, Carter didn’t try to stop me.

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I Loved the Boy Next Door for Ten Years, and He Loathed Me for Ten. Finally, I Slept With Him and Left Him a $200 Tip. My childhood best friend felt deeply humiliated and relentlessly “hunted” me down everywhere. But he couldn’t find me. I hid from him for three years, until my father passed away and I became an orphan. His parents told me, “From now on, our home is your home. That boy is your older brother.” I looked at his face, which contorted with humiliation and rage the second he saw me, and cheerfully called out, “Hi, big brother!” 01 I hid from Holden for exactly three years. The reason I remember it so clearly is because the night I slept with him was New Year’s Eve during my freshman year winter break. That night, there were fireworks going off everywhere outside. And today is New Year’s Eve of my senior year winter break. I was dragging my suitcase, wanting to buy some fruit before heading up to the apartment. Unexpectedly, I bumped right into Holden. He hadn’t changed much. Hood pulled up, hands shoved in his pockets, radiating that lazy, effortless bad-boy vibe. —You couldn’t tell he was a bastard at all. A beautiful bastard. The moment he walked into the convenience store, I instinctively turned my back and pulled my baseball cap down low. “Holden, back for some fruit?” The female owner was young, and her eyes lit up the moment she saw him. “The new batch of grapefruits is great, take a couple back for your parents to try.” Holden said, “I don’t eat sour things.” “How about cherries? Guaranteed sweet.” “I hate sweet things even more.” …I wanted to smack him. Eat it if you want, if not, get lost. But the owner’s enthusiasm didn’t wane. When he was paying, she even forced a few apples into his bag. This was Holden’s special treatment. With that handsome face, he was the local prince wherever he went. When he was ten, Holden would walk down the street empty-handed and come back with his pockets stuffed full of snacks from the neighbors. It used to make me cry out of jealousy. Now, at twenty, the people giving him snacks had changed generation after generation. But he was still the prince. The owner asked, “Holden, heading home alone this year?” “Yeah.” “I heard from the neighbors you were planning to bring a girlfriend back this year.” Holden has a girlfriend? My ears instinctively perked up. 02 Holden gave a soft chuckle. When he laughed, he had this slight nasal tone that tickled your ears. Three years ago on New Year’s Eve, I heard it up close. It didn’t just tickle my ears; after hearing it enough, it tickled my heart. “It’s a rumor,” he said. Owner: “I knew a guy like you would have high standards. It’s hard to find the right girl. What type do you like? I have a younger sister, she’s super sweet…” “I hate sweet, cutesy girls.” Yeah, I could almost picture the exact expression on Holden’s face when he said that. On my sixteenth birthday, I got a lacy dress. I wore it to show Holden. He used that exact disgusted tone and said, “Maggie, I hate cutesy girls.” The owner chuckled awkwardly. “Well, you should still find a girlfriend soon to give your parents some peace of mind.” “Don’t worry, I have a girlfriend.” Holden drawled lazily: “I just haven’t decided which girlfriend to bring back.” Owner: … Somehow, coming from this bastard’s mouth, such an outrageous statement actually sounded perfectly reasonable. After a while, the store fell quiet. I figured Holden must have left. I reached for the last melon on the display. A long, slender hand suddenly shot out and intercepted the melon mid-air. “Sorry, I grabbed it first.” That lazy voice echoed right above my head. He said sorry, but I couldn’t sense a single ounce of guilt. “But I might consider letting you have it.” Holden’s clear, piercing voice struck my eardrums— “If you just turn around.” 03 My cursed history with Holden goes back twelve years. My dad took me from our small rural town and moved us to Chicago. He and Holden’s dad were army buddies. After they got discharged, their lives went in completely opposite directions. My dad got the short end of the stick. The city was expensive. He drove a city bus, barely making enough to scrape by. As for why we had to live in the city, my dad said the schools were better here, so I could get into a good college. Rent in the city was brutal. Thank God for Holden’s dad, who let us stay in a small adjacent apartment they owned. Holden’s parents were amazing to me. My dad was out driving a lot, so after school, I’d just go to Holden’s house for dinner. I basically ate with Holden, lived near Holden, and went to school with Holden. But, he didn’t like me. Holden’s friends were mostly good-looking or came from wealthy families. I was a chubby, tanned little country bumpkin. I stubbornly followed him everywhere, which annoyed the hell out of him. Once, he intentionally ditched me at a local carnival, almost causing me to get lost. Holden got the beating of a lifetime for that. He probably still has the scars on his ass. He hated me even more after that, constantly thinking of ways to prank me. But I was so silly back then. I always felt Holden was different from the boys back in my hometown. He was so good-looking, his skin so pale. When he smiled, he seemed to glow. No matter how he pranked me, I stubbornly trailed behind him. This blind worship eventually blossomed into a teenage crush during puberty. Looking back now, Holden’s annoyance with me was completely undisguised. One spring, all the flowers at school were blooming. Holden’s friends asked him what his favorite flower was. Holden said, “I don’t have a favorite, only a least favorite. I absolutely hate magnolias. They’re too sweet, too cloying, they smell awful.” As he said it, he glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. My name is Magnolia, Maggie for short. He said that entirely on purpose for me to hear. But I was dense. I still followed him around every single day, practically driving him crazy. Finally, the year we graduated high school, a minor incident occurred. I asked Holden, “Where are you applying for college?” Holden thought about it. “New York.” I eagerly applied to schools in New York. It wasn’t until the acceptance letters arrived that I found out. Holden was going to Boston. He lied to me, just to get away from me. What a cruel reality. 04 During the first semester of freshman year, if I didn’t reach out, Holden wouldn’t contact me either. He had his own life, his own social circle. He was brilliant, top of his major, and famously known as the hottest guy on campus. There were always beautiful girls in his group photos. I went to Boston to visit him once. His friends asked, “Holden, who’s the chick?” Holden said, “My dad’s friend’s daughter.” I froze right then and there. We had known each other for ten years, and in the end, I wasn’t even considered a regular friend. I felt a sudden, crushing disappointment. But I refused to just give up like that. I plotted for a long time, and on New Year’s Eve during winter break, I slept with Holden. We both had some drinks that night. Holden was a lightweight and got drunk fast. I, however, was exceptionally sober. When I got close, he said, “Maggie, do you even know what you’re doing?” I asked him back, “Holden, do you even know how long I’ve liked you?” Holden fell silent. I reached out to unbutton his shirt. He grabbed my wrist, and it hurt a little. I hissed in pain, tears welling up in my eyes. Holden instantly let go. A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but maybe I imagined it. Because immediately after, he said something like a true bastard: “Maggie, you look really ugly when you cry.” “It’s fine, you’ll be crying in a minute too.” My bold words didn’t exactly pan out. I was the one crying in the end. But Holden was very gentle that night. Afterward, he held me and whispered, “I’m sorry I lied to you about college.” I ignored him. He twirled my long hair around his finger and sighed helplessly, “Stop crying, Mags. I’ll go to grad school in New York, okay?” What did that have to do with me? I had already decided to let go. Tonight was just about giving myself some closure. After all, I had been an idiot for so many years. It felt like a loss if I didn’t get him at least once. Now that I had him, I wouldn’t obsess over him anymore. Early the next morning, before Holden woke up, I bolted. Oh, right. He had paid for the motel room. I didn’t want to owe him, so I left a $200 tip for my half of the bill. But this action seemed to cause a bit of a misunderstanding… I deleted all of Holden’s contact info and cut him off completely. I heard from my high school best friend that Holden felt immensely humiliated and was relentlessly “hunting” me down everywhere. He even showed up at my campus. He came several times but never caught me. The most memorable instance was May of my sophomore year. My roommate recounted it to me later: Holden looked like an erupting volcano that day, ready to catch me and tear me to shreds. He stopped my roommate and demanded fiercely, “Where the hell did Maggie go now?!” My roommate said, “Oh, didn’t you know? Today is Valentine’s Day.” “—She went out to celebrate with her boyfriend.” In that moment. It was like a torrential downpour instantly extinguishing the volcano. Holden stood frozen in place, not moving an inch for a very, very long time. 05 To clarify, the dating part was true. I didn’t like Holden anymore, so what’s wrong with dating? Not only did I date, I dated several guys over time. And Holden knew about every single one of my exes. My best friend kept him updated. Holden never stopped holding his grudge against me. He had been on a pedestal for twenty years, only to be “humiliated” by the little sidekick he used to look down on. I’d be pissed too. I heard he even stormed back to my rural hometown. Unfortunately, that was the year my dad went to New York for medical treatment, so I didn’t go home. He couldn’t catch anyone, acting like a bitter, abandoned ex. This game of cat and mouse played out for three years. And today, it was finally coming to an end. Because moving forward, I was going to spend my holidays at Holden’s house. My dad passed away last winter. I didn’t have a home anymore. Holden was currently standing right behind me, way too close. He tapped his finger against the melon, tap, tap. “Turn around. I’ll buy this melon for you.” I didn’t move a muscle. He quickly got bored. “Don’t turn around then. Just kidding. I’m out.” That was Holden. His interest in anything never lasted more than three minutes. This time, he really left. Even though in ten minutes, we were going to reunite in his living room anyway. Even though we used to be inseparable. Even though he hated my guts right now. We still had to sit down and eat New Year’s dinner together. I carried the pile of fruit to the register. The owner gave me a few extra looks. “Young lady, you look a little familiar.” “I have a generic face.” “Oh, please. As pretty as you are, there’s no way you have a generic face,” she tsked, saying confidently. “I’ve definitely seen you somewhere. Especially those dimples.” It was normal that she didn’t recognize me. I had changed a lot. After puberty, I lost a ton of weight, and after spending years in the city staying out of the sun, my skin cleared up and brightened. I was no longer that dark, chubby little country girl. In a recent campus poll, I even won the title of “Communications Department Sweetheart.” Oh, right. Holden actually showed up in that poll thread. He commented: “Bullshit sweetheart. Are everyone’s eyes in the Communications department broken??” The only reason I recognized him was because his username was “ImTheKing.” After paying, I grabbed the fruit and left. The moment I pushed the door open, an icy stare landed on my back. “Buying all this, where exactly are you heading?” Holden hadn’t left. He was leaning against the wall, looking like he’d been waiting for me for a while. I ignored him and sped up. He quickly caught up, taking a long stride to block my path. He snatched the baseball cap right off my head. “Did you have fun playing me, Maggie?” 06 Yeah, it was fun. I wanted to say that, but obviously, I couldn’t. Holden scoffed. “Three years and you’ve gone mute?” I looked up at him with a sweet, innocent smile. “Hi Holden. Long time no see.” Since I couldn’t avoid him anyway, I might as well face him bravely. But Holden wasn’t smiling. He just stared at me, like he wanted to burn a hole through my skull. His expression was too calm. Terrifyingly calm. Only his slightly red eyes and trembling hands gave him away. I don’t know how long we stood there. Long enough that people walking by were staring at us. Finally, Holden looked down and took my suitcase. Neither of us spoke on the way back. Holden walked fast, with absolutely no intention of waiting for me. I had to jog just to keep up. He seemed to have grown even taller. He looked to be at least 6’2″. He walked faster and faster, and I couldn’t help but speak up. “Holden, slow down.” Holden stiffened. —It was exactly like before. He’d walk in front, and I’d follow behind, chattering away, calling out, “Holden, Holden!” It had been a long time since we felt this dynamic. Holden sounded impatient. “Are your legs just short?” But his pace noticeably slowed down. “Your legs are long, you have the longest legs,” I fired back without hesitation. “Too bad you didn’t grow in the places that actually matter.” The words slipped out. The double entendre was instantly established. I meant his emotional intelligence and his narrow perspective. But… Holden had already snapped his head around, his lips pressed tightly together, his face a mix of humiliation and pure disbelief. “Is that why you left without saying goodbye?!” Me: … This was bad. Holden the Bastard—I mean, Holden the Prince—had a huge ego. And I had just shattered it in one blow. He dragged me into the stairwell, relentlessly demanding that I break down what I just said and explain it in detail. I threw my hands up. “There’s nothing to explain. I meant exactly what I said.” “You must be remembering it wrong. You drank too much that night.” “Whatever, it’s not important.” “It’s incredibly important!” Holden’s cheeks flushed, probably out of anger. “No, I have to prove myself.” I was just about to ask, how exactly are you going to prove it, when I saw Holden put his hands on his belt buckle. I froze. “You’ve gotta be kidding me…” What kind of childhood friend drops their pants on the first day of their reunion? Holden’s expression told me he was dead serious. He was betting his dignity on this. Before I knew it. He had already unbuckled his belt. 07 Right at that exact moment, Holden’s dad pushed the apartment door open. “Is Maggie here yet?” Holden froze. I dodged in front of him, blocking him from view. “Hi, Mr. Brooks! I just got here!” “Did you run into Holden? The kid said he was going downstairs to buy fruit. It’s been over an hour and he wouldn’t come up. Said he was waiting for you.” I paused for a second. When I looked back, Holden’s pants were securely fastened. He awkwardly averted his gaze. “I was just taking a walk.” Once we were inside, Mr. Brooks casually asked, “What were you two dawdling about outside just now?” Both Holden and I went dead silent. Mrs. Brooks chimed in, “The kids haven’t seen each other in so long. They were probably just catching up.” “Exactly.” I nodded vigorously. “It’s been way too long since I saw my big brother.” Holden: “Who’s your brother? Stop calling me that.” As soon as the words left his mouth, his mom smacked the back of his head. “From now on, our house is Maggie’s house. You are her older brother. You have to protect her.” Holden was stunned. “I don’t want to be her brother!” “Then you can be her younger brother. We don’t mind.” “Mom! That’s not what I mean. I’m actually Maggie’s—” Mrs. Brooks cut him off. “Stop whining. I’m going to go cook.” But I was a little curious. What was Holden trying to say? He’s actually my… what? Over the past three years, it felt like we had zero relationship whatsoever. He couldn’t possibly be planning to tell his parents about what happened three years ago, right?! No, I had to stop him. I looked up and met Holden’s dangerous gaze. I smiled sweetly. “Hi, big brother.” Holden: …

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My lover has paranoia. He imagines that I am his nemesis, his mortal enemy, the person he despises most in this world. Day after day, I play along with his delusions. Until one day, I couldn’t play the part anymore. I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. 1 The house was pitch-black when I got home. I set my bag down, kicked off my shoes, and trailed my hand along the wall, slowly feeling my way through the dark. The moment my fingers brushed the light switch, a ceramic plate came flying at my head. I tilted my head, dodging it just in time. The lights flickered on. A man stood on the staircase, staring down at me with an entirely expressionless face. “So you still know how to come back.” “…” I smiled, walking toward him. I reached out and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Can you stop acting like a bitter, neglected housewife, Ethan?” He smelled faintly of floral soap, a scent I specifically picked out for him. I always hoped it would somehow neutralize the freezing aura he radiated. But it never did. The way he looked at me was still full of absolute disgust. 2 The crystal chandelier cast fragmented, glittering light across the room. Yet, the brightly lit living room felt agonizingly cold, and the man sitting right beside me offered no warmth at all. I rested the iPad on my lap, swiping through the pages to show him. “Look at this for our wedding. Should I wear this one?” “The skirt is a mermaid design.” “It’s so pretty, like liquid light slipping right over the fabric.” “Oh, and I love this one too. The veil has a starry night design, just like the time you took me to see the—” A sharp scoff cut off my words. He lifted his gaze, his dark, pitch-black eyes staring dead into mine. “Did we even have a past?” I wanted so desperately to tell the man in front of me that yes, we did. We had so many beautiful, wonderful memories together. But the man in front of me only saw me as an unforgivable, heinous villain. He gripped my chin, his thumb pressing into my skin, and landed a kiss at the corner of my lips. His cold voice carried a ripple of deliberate, elegant seduction. “Be a good girl. Give me the medicine.” 3 The only reason Ethan Hayes listened to me at all was that I held the one thing he desperately craved. If he ever bothered to look through the Seattle Police Department’s internal reports from a few years ago, he would be shocked to find his own name listed under both “Narcotics Commendations” and “Injured in the Line of Duty.” Ethan got hooked on drugs while working deep undercover. And after his undercover days ended, he developed severe paranoid psychosis. Delusional disorder. He categorized almost everyone around him as the enemy—including me. Including the woman he once said he loved the most, the woman he swore to protect with his life. That gentle man was long gone, dragged down into a living hell. His eyes, when he looked at me, were like thousand-year-old ice caves. The bedroom light was dim. I gripped his collar. Even though I had him pinned beneath me, his gaze remained entirely unfazed. Even tainted by addiction, he still looked as pure and untouchable as a god looking down from above. Just the slight curve of his lips was mesmerizing. I leaned down, wanting to kiss him, but with a sudden, practiced twist of his hips, he flipped me over and pinned me to the mattress. He dug into my chest pocket for a moment and pulled out the syringe. With practiced ease, he injected it right into his right arm. … To him, that syringe was his heroin. But it wasn’t. It was a specially formulated psychiatric medication laced with heavy sedatives. You can’t cure a severe addiction overnight; you have to slowly taper the dosage. Lying there, I suddenly understood exactly why he hated me so much. Because, in his eyes… I wasn’t his devoted lover. I was the monster who got him hooked on drugs, the dealer who kept him on a leash by dangling a pathetic little fix in front of him every single day… Just a villain. 4 I had a dream. I dreamed of a few years ago, back when Ethan was still deep undercover. I went to see him on Christmas Eve. We navigated through the thick holiday crowd, only able to truly look at each other while hiding behind the cover of a newspaper. He had both hands shoved in his pockets, leaning lazily against the railing like he didn’t have a bone in his body. Ethan was a gorgeous man. Even a slight smirk made him look dangerously handsome, drawing the eyes of two young women nearby. Right in front of me, he whistled at the two girls. I kicked him in the shin. He let out a dramatic “Ow!” and lowered his voice, leaning in. “Honey, I gotta play the part, right?” He was already starting to carry the grimy, dangerous aura of the criminal underworld, but his eyes were still so clear. The sound of Jingle Bells drifted through the air. He tilted his head back, a teasing lilt in his voice. “Just one more year, they always say. Then another, then another.” It was a line reminiscent of our favorite mob movies. He turned his head, our eyes meeting only through our reflections in the glass pane beside us. “When am I finally going to be able to marry you, Claire?” … I lowered the newspaper and walked past him, our shoulders just barely brushing. “Finish the job. I’m waiting for you.” … He finished the job, but I never got to marry him. When I woke up the next morning, the space next to me in bed was cold and empty. I knew he hated me, that he despised sharing a bed with me. But when I hurried downstairs and couldn’t find him anywhere, a blind panic set in. I tore through every room in the house. He was gone. I tried calling a friend, my hands shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. He was nowhere. I squatted on the floor, clutching my head. Lately, I had been getting these splitting headaches whenever I tried to focus or think too hard. The throbbing pain made my vision blur, but the agonizing anxiety of losing him was far worse. I frantically typed out a text, on the verge of begging my old colleagues at the precinct to run a search. My heart hammered against my ribs, burning hotter and hotter—until a pair of white sneakers stepped into my line of sight. “What are you doing?” The voice was steady, as cold and indifferent as ever. Ethan wasn’t Ethan anymore, yet he was still Ethan. It was just that this detached, icy man standing in front of me could never be reconciled with the sunny, teasing boy in my memories. I stood up and threw my arms around him. I don’t know why, but I loved hugging him. It felt like, if I just held him tightly enough, I could transfer my body heat to him—even if he never hugged me back. “I thought you left, Ethan.” He took a step back, smoothly peeling my arms off him. “I was just out in the back watering the plants.” “…” I smiled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “What do you want for dinner tonight? I’ll make you—” “Drop the fake act. You don’t even let me out the front door.” He cut me off, snatched a book off the dining table, and walked upstairs. I didn’t let Ethan leave the house because I was terrified of cartel remnants coming after him for revenge. But the more I protected him… The more he felt like a white dove trapped in a cage. And the more he hated me. 5 I went to the hospital for a full-body scan. The headaches had been getting significantly worse over the last few days. I was never someone who liked hospitals, but ever since Ethan’s incident, I had become hyper-vigilant about my health. I was terrified that if I died, there would be no one left to take care of him. He would be left to suffer in his personal hell all alone. At least while I was here, I could sit in the flames with him. Ethan lived in hell. When he was first diagnosed with his delusions, his psychiatrist pulled me aside. He told me that the reason Ethan constantly pushed me away was because, deep in his subconscious, he believed that as a junkie, he was no longer worthy of me. The cartel boss had forced him to test the product. Forced him to shoot up. He had no choice. A decorated cop, turned into a heroin addict. That was Ethan’s personal hell. I couldn’t drag him out of it, but I could stay in the dark with him. The test results wouldn’t be ready for a while, so on my way home, aside from picking up groceries, I bought a bouquet of baby’s breath. When Ethan was undercover, he used to send me flowers all the time. He couldn’t send them to my real address, so he sent them to our secret spot. Ethan’s handwriting was terrible, but he tirelessly wrote little notes on the cards anyway. Short, sweet little love letters. “I’m no poet, Claire, otherwise I’d write you the moon.” “Watched the sunset today. It wasn’t a fraction as pretty as it is when you’re here.” “The wind blew off the lake, and the wind told me I miss you.” “Claire, seriously, I miss you so damn much.” “…” I could perfectly picture the scene. Him, stuck in some damp, miserable trap house under the cartel’s thumb. Tilting his head, leaning against a dirty windowsill, writing out these incredibly sappy lines. And then smiling to himself as he tucked them into the bright, blooming flowers. 6 Lately, even our home had stopped being a safe haven. Several luxury cars were parked outside my house. Holding the bouquet of baby’s breath, my heart plummeted like a stone the moment I saw the front door wide open. I kept telling myself to breathe, but a sudden, blunt force of pain slammed into my skull, forcing me to grip the doorframe to stay upright. Three men in black suits and sunglasses stood in the entryway. Sitting gracefully on my living room sofa was a woman. “Detective Vance. Even if you’re a cop, trespassing is still a crime.” I slowly set the flowers down on the entryway console and spoke to the woman on the couch. She tilted her head and offered a slow, deliberate smile. “Illegal imprisonment is also a crime. And you’re not a cop anymore, Claire.” “…” I was accusing her of breaking in; she was accusing me of locking Ethan up and restricting his freedom. Victoria Vance. The sole, precious daughter of the Seattle Police Commissioner, and my… rival. She loved Ethan, too. “I’m taking Ethan with me.” She raised her chin, looking down to casually inspect her flawless manicure. “Not happening.” I leaned heavily on the coffee table, glaring at her. “Why isn’t it happening? The department universally agrees that you are no longer capable of managing Ethan’s treatment. He’s been with you all this time, and he hasn’t improved at all.” “I have the best medical resources. The absolute best psychiatrists. Only with me can he get the care he—” “I am his fiancée.” I cut her off. The woman finally looked up at me, pure disdain reflecting beneath her immaculate makeup. “Says who? He didn’t marry you. Ethan never married you.” “He said he would.” “But now he hates you. Watch.” Victoria pulled a pocketknife from her coat and pressed it directly against my throat. She turned me to face the staircase. There, Ethan was slowly walking down. The man watched with a completely blank expression as Victoria held a blade to my neck. “See? Even if I killed you right here, he wouldn’t even blink.” It felt like she was choking me, whispering, Look. You gave him everything, and he threw it to the dogs. How good had I been to Ethan? I had practically carved out my own heart and handed it to him. Yet when my life was threatened, he didn’t even spare me a second glance. It felt like no matter how hard I tried, it was all useless. Then… I guess I just have to try harder. That was our promise. Ethan and I had promised we would never give up on each other. No matter what. Slowly, I brought my bare hand up and gripped the sharp edge of the blade. Victoria obviously didn’t really want to stab me; she visibly flinched and paused. “I am not letting you take Ethan.” In the silent, tense standoff, she suddenly laughed. “Fine. Then let’s play fair.” “Let Ethan choose. Whoever he chooses, he goes with.” “How about it?” … Ethan wasn’t an object. He wasn’t a prize to be won. After they finally left, I sat alone on the sofa. The lighting in the living room really was too dim. I needed to remember to buy new bulbs. I kept my head down until a shadow fell over me. He stood in front of me, his voice entirely flat and monotone. “They didn’t break in. I opened the door and let them inside.” “When she put that knife to your throat, I really didn’t feel a thing.” “…” Ethan knew exactly how to twist the knife into my heart. I looked up at him. Reflected in his pitch-black eyes, I saw just how utterly broken I looked. I asked him softly. “So you want to leave with her? Is that it?” “…” He didn’t answer. …Makes sense. To Ethan, leaving with Victoria was just trading one cage for another. What he didn’t know was that he himself was the cage. Dark, sunless, and full of endless torment.

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The System required me to win the heart of the male lead, a boy born with telepathy who would grow up to be a ruthless, cold-blooded, and brooding psychopath. I pondered for a moment and chose to enter the world when the male lead was exactly one year old. The System: [?] “Starting today, I will be his legal guardian. I will teach him to obey the law, respect women, stay optimistic, and be a decent human being,” I said without batting an eye. “A truly excellent romance strategy should start with a proper education.” The System was convinced: [You make a valid point.] So, on a day with heavy snow, I picked up the one-year-old male lead, Robin Winter, who had been abandoned at the hospital. Six years later, at the children’s home I opened, he asked me in his sweet, childish voice, “Miss Ellie, what does it mean to win someone’s heart?” I gently patted his head. “It means I want you to feel all the care and love this world has to offer.” Seven-year-old Robin’s eyes sparkled, and he spun around in pure joy. “I love you too, Miss Ellie!” Around him, the male lead’s future subordinates, business partners, mortal enemies, and childhood sweethearts all swarmed around me, chirping, “We love Miss Ellie the most!” The System: [The male lead’s affection meter is maxed out. Host’s mission is complete… Wait, you can do it like this?!] 01 After dying from severe overwork, I was forced to bind with a System and accept a romance mission. The System transmitted the original plot to me. I looked at the files showing a handsome but utterly apathetic teenage boy and fell into deep thought. He was being trampled underfoot, covered in bruises and cuts. His eyes were filled with an inorganic, dead gray, so indifferent that he looked entirely detached from the world. The System spoke in a rigid, mechanical tone: [Once you enter the world, you can take him home. Right now, he is working odd jobs on the streets and suffering endless bullying. He might not trust you at first, so you will need to melt his frozen heart with love. Also, he has a childhood sweetheart, his first love. According to our projections, after he reunites with her, the two of you will have a massive misunderstanding…] I interrupted it. “How old is he? He looks like a young teenager.” It paused for a second. [This is a photo of him at fourteen.] “Then why is he working on the streets?” I frowned. “At that age, he should be in middle school.” The System: […He has no money. He dropped out.] “Public education is free and mandatory through high school. The foster system should also be covering his basic needs,” I pointed out the glaring issue. “The group home he was placed in is clearly non-compliant and violating regulations.” The System was baffled by my logic. [Is… is that how it works?] “It seems the child welfare system in this region is severely flawed,” I mused for a moment. “Just send me into this world. I already know exactly what I need to do.” The System perked up. [Great! So which timeline would you like to drop into? When he’s fourteen and being humiliated by customers? Or when he’s eighteen and unconscious in a dark alley? Or maybe when he’s twenty-three…] I said, “When he is one year old, obviously.” The System: [?] When Robin Winter was born, he was sickly and frail. His father was unknown, and his mother died in childbirth. When he was just a year old, his distant relatives abandoned him at the entrance of a local hospital. It was the dead of winter, with a massive blizzard howling. Robin spiked a dangerously high fever and permanently lost a portion of his hearing. Yet, as the male lead, he possessed a unique protagonist perk—telepathy. From that day on, even though his physical world grew muted and quiet, the malicious thoughts of everyone around him constantly screamed in his head. I stood at the hospital entrance, looking down at the baby sleeping soundly in my arms, and said bluntly, “Since you expect me to complete a mission, you need to give me a cheat code. Like unlimited funds, for example. Otherwise, your male lead is going to starve to death.” [Is this really allowed?] The System sounded incredibly anxious after unlocking the funds for me, asking for the thirteenth time, [Should I just fast-forward you ten years into the future?] “Let’s not be a predator,” I wagged my finger. “I am twenty-two years old. When it comes to a romance mission, raising a one-year-old is acceptable. Hitting on an eighteen-year-old is not. Sixteen is absolutely out of the question, and eleven is just criminal.” The System: […] Bathing in the radiant light of my morality and respect for the law, it fell into a daze, utterly speechless. “Let’s go,” I said. “We have a lot of work to do.” For starters, I needed to look up the licensing requirements and qualifications needed to take over an orphanage. The Haven Children’s Home, where Robin was originally supposed to end up, was horribly mismanaged. But that didn’t matter. I could overhaul it myself. I wrapped the baby’s blanket a little tighter and carried him into the hospital. “Hopefully we’re not too late, and his hearing can still be saved.” 02 The System forged all the necessary legal identification for me. First, I got Robin fully treated at the hospital. Then, I officially took over the dilapidated Haven Children’s Home. The facility had been bankrupt and effectively abandoned for years. There were no children and no staff. It was only temporarily seized by the county this year, leaving everything in complete chaos and desperate need of rebuilding. My previous job in the real world had been at a foster facility, so I was incredibly familiar with the protocols—especially with the System helping me cut through the red tape. Robin was an abandoned infant. After the hospital handed his case to the police, I pulled some strings, officially fostered him, and brought him into Haven Children’s Home as its very first and only child. It was the exact same trajectory as the original plot, but the difference was that this time, the director of the orphanage was me. While caring for Robin, I simultaneously reconstructed the entire facility, systematically upgrading the infrastructure and living conditions. Everything progressed incredibly smoothly, which left the System in a state of profound shock. Because Robin’s affection meter toward me was skyrocketing. It was already at eighty. I wasn’t surprised in the slightest. For a toddler, the person they love the most is obviously the one who feeds and cuddles them every single day. Even though Robin didn’t understand the complex concept of “love” yet, he had already learned to reach his chubby little arms out whenever I approached, flashing me a goofy, toothy smile. Whenever this happened, the System would mutter to itself: [How is this happening? You can do it like this? I didn’t know you could do it like this…] I ignored its existential crisis, looking up at the beautifully renovated children’s home. “The efficiency is great. Now I just need to figure out if there are decent educational facilities nearby.” I had reviewed the local zoning laws. A children’s home was legally permitted to operate its own on-site school, but Haven currently didn’t meet the strict educational standards. I was going to have to work harder. The System: […] It didn’t understand human zoning laws, so it chose to remain silent. Because I got him to the hospital in time and took meticulous care of him, Robin grew up to be exceptionally healthy. By the time he was three, he was running and jumping everywhere, calling me “Miss Ellie” in his sweet, milky voice. Little Robin looked up at me and asked, “Miss Ellie, what does my name mean?” I picked him up and told him that on the day he came into this world, it was snowing. And his mother happened to love robins, the little birds that brave the winter. He was still too young to grasp the permanence of death and separation, but I didn’t want to erase the beautiful origin of his name just to protect him. Robin nodded, half-understanding. “My name means the bird mommy liked. And mommy liked me too.” “Yes,” I gently stroked his hair. “She loved you very much.” He beamed, flashing that same goofy, adorable smile. On the day I taught Robin how to write his own name, I asked the System, “Are there different types of Systems out there?” [Umm…] The System was stumped by my question and thought about it seriously. [I don’t know for sure, but we are all Romance Systems.] “You guys,” I caught the nuance in its phrasing. “You have coworkers?” [Yes, but I don’t have a name.] “Do they have names?” [They all picked names for themselves,] the System said blankly. [My friends are named Clemency, Justice, Medic, and Scholar…] I asked, “Why don’t you give yourself a name like they did?” The System hesitated for a few seconds. [Because some of the older Systems said they were slacking off. They said that once you pick a name, you end up getting distracted by other things instead of the mission.] “You can do other things too. Like helping me run this children’s home,” I said. “I’m still technically doing the romance mission, so it’s not slacking off.” [Really?] The System sounded suddenly excited. [I can pick my own name too?] “Yes,” I said warmly. “What do you want to be called?” [Then… I want to run this home with you,] it said. [I want to be called Felix. It means lucky and happy.] I smiled. “Felix. I like it.” It went quiet for a long time, but I guessed it had probably run off to share the good news with its friends. 03 On the day Haven Children’s Home officially reopened its doors to the public, I brought Robin with me to welcome the new kids. I had read the files. Likely due to the gravitational pull of the original plot, Robin’s former childhood sweetheart and future white moonlight, Chloe Bennett, was among the new arrivals. Her parents had both died in a tragic car accident, after which she was sent to the orphanage. In the original timeline, when she was eight, her adoptive parents took her and immigrated overseas. The plot didn’t dwell much on that period, but for Chloe to go from a sweet, innocent little girl to a classic, vicious antagonist later on, her time overseas must have been utterly miserable. I carefully reviewed her file and realized that the couple who originally adopted her hadn’t actually met the strict legal requirements for adoption at all. It was another failure of the welfare system’s lack of oversight. So, looking at the timid, trembling little girl in front of me, I crouched down and gently rubbed her head. “Don’t be scared, Chloe. This is your home now.” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. Perhaps because my gaze was entirely patient, and sensitive children could easily detect the absence of malice, she cautiously reached out her chubby little hand and grasped my finger. The adorable little girl still had tear tracks on her pale cheeks, but as I held her in my arms and gave her a piece of candy, she showed her very first smile of the day, softly mirroring the others and calling me, “Miss Ellie.” Robin, meanwhile, kept a very serious, tight expression on his face, nervously but proudly leading the new kids on a tour of the facility. I had officially assigned this task to him. He took his responsibility very seriously, acting like a true senior resident, weaving in and out among the crowd of new children. I watched him comfort one crying toddler, hand a piece of candy to another, and pump his little fist, swearing that this was the absolute best home in the world. I couldn’t help but laugh. That afternoon, I put the kids down for their naps. Robin was clearly too excited to sleep. He even leaned in and whispered to me, “Miss Ellie, out of all the new kids today, I like Caleb the most. He’s so cool!” Me: “Oh? Is that so?” The name Caleb Thorne… why did it sound so familiar? I looked at the birthmark on the little boy named Caleb’s face and finally remembered: Wasn’t this Robin’s future mortal enemy, the terrifying mob boss Caleb Thorne?! Me: Looks like I need to move the legal and ethics classes up the schedule. Right now, Caleb was incredibly timid. He kept his head down and rarely spoke. Because of the large birthmark on his face and some minor developmental delays, his biological parents had abandoned him. Abandonment is a felony. Seeing the deep insecurity and sadness in Caleb’s eyes, I pulled Robin aside. He must have heard my internal thoughts, because his face crumpled into a sad expression. He said gloomily, “Miss Ellie, did Caleb’s mommy and daddy really not want him?” Robin, with his telepathy, never hid anything from me. But we had pinky-promised that his ability was our special secret. So I answered him seriously. “What his mommy and daddy did was very wrong. They broke the law, and they will be punished.” Robin looked confused but nodded. “I want to be his friend.” “Then take him out to the garden to play,” I suggested. “Didn’t you tell me yesterday that you wanted a friend to go on the seesaw with you?” Robin’s eyes lit up, but then he wilted again. “But it’s nap time right now.” “That’s okay, today is a special exception,” I ruffled his hair. “Robin, from now on, we are Caleb’s family. I want Caleb to be happy. Can you help me do that?” Robin puffed his chest out, full of energy. “I can!” I unlocked the garden doors, waved them out, and watched the two tiny silhouettes cheer quietly as they ran toward the seesaw in the sunlight. I walked back into the dormitory. Sure enough, a bunch of little heads quickly ducked back under their blankets. I stifled a laugh. “Can’t anyone sleep?” Dead silence. Only Chloe peeked her head out, pointing a tiny finger toward the garden window. “I want to play with Miss Ellie too,” she said in a babyish voice. “Then let’s all go out to the garden,” I smiled warmly. “But just remember, it’s nap time. This is a one-time exception, okay?” “Okay!” The previously anxious and rigid kids instantly lit up, responding in unison. Like a flock of happy little birds, they rushed out into the garden. I strolled leisurely behind them, chatting with Felix. [Why is their affection for you so high, Host? I’ve never seen a mission progress this fast…] “Have you ever heard a certain story?” I thought for a moment. “A demon sealed in a bottle once promised that whoever freed him would be granted infinite power and wealth. But when a fisherman finally found him centuries later, the demon had grown resentful. He decided to punish the fisherman because he had taken too long to arrive.” [That story is in my database.] “Love works the same way,” I said calmly. “Winning someone’s heart is essentially an exchange. You give love, you receive love. But if someone goes their entire childhood starved of affection, do you really think some calculated, impure affection later in life will win them over? If I had shown up when Robin was fifteen or sixteen, there is absolutely no way I could have ever competed with Chloe, who would have grown up beside him.” [So you chose the one-year-old timeline purely to guarantee the mission’s success?] “Not entirely.” I smiled, scooping up a little girl who ran toward me, gently patting her head. “I just wanted to teach you something.” [What is it?] “The word ‘romance’ or ‘capture’ is far too narrow,” I said. “There are so many different kinds of love in this world. Teaching them what true love looks like—that counts as winning their hearts, too.” [Host, you really are different from anyone else I’ve ever met.] “How many people have you actually met? To me, you’re just a kid too,” I sat on a swing, holding the little girl in my lap. “Maybe in your System’s background check, they saw that ‘nurturing’ was my actual profession—and that’s why you chose me.” [Wait, what did you do for a living before?] Felix sounded confused. [But so many people loved you in your old world, Host.] “Did they?” I paused, letting out a very soft laugh. “I used to work in special education.” I was the undeniable black sheep of the Vance family. All my siblings had grand ambitions; they either took over corporate empires or became shining stars in the art world. I was the only one who buried myself in a tiny, rural town, volunteered as a teacher for years, then transferred to a special-needs school, and finally just opened my own foster home. Most orphans are not perfectly healthy children. They often carry various physical or psychological traumas. At first, when my family came to visit me, they would be horrified by the occasional bruises or scratches on my arms. They asked me more than once, “Eleanor Vance, have you completely lost your mind?” Outsiders understood it even less. The Vance children were raised in the lap of luxury. Why did Eleanor turn out so thoroughly devoid of aristocratic grace? But in a person’s life, there are always one or two defining moments that completely change who they are. I had no intention of judging what was “noble” or “low-class,” nor did I want to use grandiose words to prove how “transcendent” I was. In truth, I was just an incredibly ordinary person among the masses who happened to choose this specific path. So, I brushed off their doubts and mockery with a simple smile. “Just like the rest of you, I’m just doing what I want to do.” Felix asked me, [So, what was the event that completely changed you?] “Who knows,” I said. “My childhood memories are pretty blurry now. But there must have been something like that.” Actually, I did remember. I remembered when my elite private school held a charity event. We dressed up in our fancy little dresses and tailored suits and went to the special education school next door to hand out gifts. But we didn’t actually meet a single student that day. I overheard their teachers saying they were worried the kids might hurt us, so they locked them all in their dormitories. We just placed books and clothes on their empty desks, took some PR photos, and prepared to leave. I saw a book sitting on one of the desks. It was a fairy tale book, and scrawled on the cover in crooked handwriting was a single line: Timmy asked, what do stars look like? I want to know too. Do they taste like candy? In that fairy tale, the stars in the sky were all made of candy. Could Timmy not see the stars? And what about the owner of the book—had he never tasted candy? I looked down at my pristine, expensive dress, reached into my pocket, and struggled to pull out a single piece of candy. I quietly slipped it inside the pages of the book. Before we left, I glanced back at the dormitory building. I saw a few smudged, dirty little faces pressed against the windows, watching us. I suddenly felt incredibly sad. I had only brought one piece of candy, and I had only left one. I could only let one child taste the stars. 04 I spent the next week working non-stop. The arrival of the new kids brought life and vitality to this small patch of land, but it also brought a mountain of new responsibilities. From things as small as choosing the brand of milk the kids drank, to things as massive as hiring new teachers—as a one-woman management team, I had to handle everything personally. Thankfully, I had the ultimate cheat code, Felix. He helped me monitor the children’s status to prevent any accidents. Otherwise, even if I split myself into three people, I wouldn’t have been able to keep up. Our home wasn’t huge. I had already hired cooks, cleaners, nurses, and care aides. But the role of academic educators was crucial, especially since I planned to set up actual classes soon. I needed people who were absolutely reliable. After several rounds of interviews, I finally found someone who perfectly matched what I was looking for. She was a girl who, based purely on looks, could have been a movie star. She was young, with a neat bob cut, bright eyes, a gentle personality, and a small red mole near the corner of her eye. Honestly, I could tell her family was probably quite wealthy. From her elegant speech to her natural grace, she gave off the aura of a girl who had been cherished her entire life. Yet, her skin was tanned, and her cheeks carried the distinct, rosy flush of someone who had spent a lot of time working outdoors under the harsh sun. “My name is Clara Hayes,” the girl said, her eyes shining like stars. “It’s wonderful to meet you, Miss Vance.” I reached out and shook her hand. “Welcome aboard, Clara.” Clara’s hiring freed up a lot of my time to focus on getting the kids’ education sorted out. Well-funded orphanages usually had their own on-site classrooms, while smaller ones sent the kids to local public schools. Considering the special needs of several of our children, I decided to set up separate, in-house classes for them. After finalizing the paperwork, Clara and I hired a few more subject teachers and officially launched the in-house curriculum. Since we didn’t have that many kids, we only formed one main class. We held a democratic vote for the name, and the kids loved the word “Seedlings.” And just like that, Haven Children’s Home’s very first class, the Seedlings Class, was born. I was highly experienced in this field, and Clara had clearly done extensive homework, so the classes ran incredibly smoothly. In early childhood development, the priority isn’t just cramming facts; it’s about building good habits and forming healthy personalities. I set up a Storytime class, reading them a new fairy tale every single day. In the world of fairy tales, the storm always passes, the villains always lose, the princess meets her prince, the ugly duckling becomes a beautiful swan, and the little animals you save always return to repay your kindness. Life is obviously more than just fairy tales. Maybe when they grow up, they’ll realize the world isn’t exactly like the stories. But I still wanted them to believe in the magic of those tales for now. However, right after my Storytime, Clara would come in to teach Safety Education. While you shouldn’t harbor malicious intent toward others, you must always stay guarded. I could teach them to be kind to the world, but someone also needed to teach them that not everyone is kind. They needed to learn to be vigilant and know how to protect themselves. I appointed Robin as the Class President of the Seedlings Class. The little boy immediately awakened to a fierce sense of “civic duty,” dedicating every day to maintaining peace and harmony in the classroom. The little president was usually brimming with fighting spirit, but occasionally, he faced setbacks. Like today. “Miss Ellie, Caleb cried today,” he said, resting his chin gloomily on my knee. “I heard him thinking about why his mommy and daddy didn’t want him.” Ever since Caleb moved into the home, he had become much more cheerful, but sometimes, in the late afternoons, he would still cry secretly. Robin couldn’t solve his friend’s emotional distress, so he came to me for advice. When I told Robin his story, I said his mother loved him very much. Because of that, Robin couldn’t comprehend why Caleb’s parents would abandon their own child. I rubbed Robin’s head gently. “Robin, people are all different. Some parents… just don’t love their children.” Robin pursed his lips. “Then why did they have him?” “There are many reasons, and we can’t always know them. But what I want to tell you is that Caleb’s parents abandoning him is a crime,” I said. “There are a lot of abandoned children in this world. Caleb is lucky to have a friend like you to care about him, but many other kids don’t even have friends.” Robin’s dark eyes went wide. “Really?” “Yes,” I offered him a suggestion. “When you get a little older, you and Caleb can work together to protect all the kids out there who are just like him.” Robin listened intently, stood up, and his little feet pitter-pattered toward the door. “I’m going to tell Caleb! Bye, Miss Ellie!” I smiled warmly. “Go on, Robin.” In truth, in the original novel, Caleb was fiercely protective of his people. The subordinates in his mafia syndicate were mostly street orphans—kids without parents. I didn’t believe that was a coincidence. Even though the photos from the plot files showed a terrifying man with a birthmark and eyes devoid of emotion, perhaps, in his own lonely childhood, he had desperately craved that exact kind of protection. They say that the things people do as adults are often ways to overcompensate for their childhood traumas. I thought to myself: At the very least, Caleb definitely isn’t going to become a mob boss this time around.

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1 Three years after being brought back to the Sinclair estate, I remained the ghost of the family. For three years, I hadn’t spoken a single word. When the fake daughter, Bella, stood on stage to receive her awards, I sat in the darkest corner of the banquet hall, staring into space. The relatives would whisper, mocking me as the mute country bumpkin they couldn’t dare show off in public. My biological parents’ initial joy and guilt had slowly curdled into bitter disappointment. “Rowan, if you would just call me Mom, we wouldn’t feel so heartbroken,” my mother would say. Even the fake daughter’s early paranoia had morphed into a condescending pity. “I’m sorry,” she would whisper to me, “but even though you’re back, I’m still the apple of their eye.” That was the status quo. Until a distant uncle showed up with a forged equity transfer agreement, threatening to liquidate the Sinclair company to pay off his debts. Bella collapsed to the floor in terror. My parents nearly gave themselves heart attacks. I set down the old newspaper I was reading, walked up to that gang of extortionists, and calmly spoke a single sentence. … The day Bella brought home her latest trophy was a Friday. My mother, Eleanor, hurried down the sweeping staircase. Right in front of the maids, she pulled Bella into a tight, loving embrace, kissing her cheek. “My sweet girl. I’ll have the driver book that French place you love. We’ll rent out the whole dining room. Invite whoever you want.” Bella’s eyes sparkled. She clung to Eleanor’s arm, her voice dripping with sugar. “Mom, can I invite my girlfriends too?” “Of course. Invite them all. Put it on my card tonight.” The two of them walked into the grand living room, laughing and chatting. I sat at the very edge of the dining table, quietly eating a bowl of oatmeal. That seat was right next to the kitchen door. The closest chair to the trash can. In three years, my seat had never changed. As she walked past me, Eleanor’s footsteps faltered. She turned her head and looked at me for three full seconds. I saw what was swimming in her eyes. It wasn’t anger. It was something far worse than anger. It was total disappointment. Then she looked away, followed Bella into the living room, and her voice brightened once more. “Tell me, sweetie, what did the judges say about your performance?” The laughter from the living room built an invisible wall, shutting me out. I put down my spoon, stood up, and walked away. My name is Rowan. The eldest daughter of the Sinclair family, lost for twenty-three years. The DNA reports were printed in stark black and white. They ran the test four times. A perfect match every time. Before I was brought back, I grew up in a place called Oakhaven, a rural farm town in the Midwest. My days were spent helping my adoptive parents harvest corn, feed chickens, and run a stall at the local farmers’ market. After I was brought back, I didn’t speak a single word. I wasn’t a mute. In my past life, I was a corporate litigator for twenty years. Trials, negotiations, mediations. I talked from dawn until dusk, wearing my jaw out for clients. Ultimately, I died of a massive heart attack on the floor of my own corner office, dying before the ambulance even arrived. When I opened my eyes again, I was sitting in the back of a luxury SUV sent by the Sinclairs. Next to me was a thick stack of DNA reports, and sitting across from me was a middle-aged woman crying her eyes out. I figured it out right then and there. God threw me back into the world, so I might as well catch my breath. All I wanted in this life was to sit quietly, keep my mouth shut, stay out of trouble, and catch up on the decades of sleep I had missed. But the Sinclair household was no place for peace and quiet. The fake daughter, Bella, had lived in this house for twenty-three years. She had the emotional ties. She knew all their habits. She had the pretty face they had pampered since infancy. In every way that mattered, she felt more like their daughter than I did. When I first arrived, she treated me like a ticking time bomb. She was dripping with insecurity. When Grandpa’s antique porcelain vase shattered, she casually mentioned seeing me near his study. When the jade bracelet my grandmother left for Eleanor went missing, it miraculously turned up in my nightstand. When the company’s charity donation records were tampered with, the IP address traced back to my laptop. I never explained myself. It wasn’t that I couldn’t. I was just too lazy to bother. Grandpa stared at me for a long time after that last incident. He sighed, waved his hand, and told everyone to drop it. Eleanor didn’t say anything either, but from that day on, the fresh fruit bowl outside my bedroom door disappeared. Later, my father, Arthur, tried to integrate me into the family business. At a corporate dinner, after a few rounds of drinks, a major client turned his gaze to me. “So this is Arthur’s eldest daughter? What division of the group are you heading up?” Every eye at the table zeroed in on my face. I looked back at him. I said nothing. Three seconds passed. Five seconds. The smile on the client’s face began to crack. Under the table, Arthur gently nudged my hand. I still didn’t speak. By the eighth second of silence, the atmosphere in the private room had frozen solid. Right at that moment, Bella leaned over from her seat next to me, a flawless, radiant smile on her face. She seamlessly picked up the conversation. “Oh, my sister has a bit of a condition. She can’t speak.” “I can walk you through the operational side of things, Mr. Sterling.” Her voice was soft, her pacing immaculate. It flowed as naturally as a river. “Since you asked about the business, my sister actually shadows our father on overall strategy. Oh, by the way, I read your company’s annual report last week. Your layout for the Midwest logistics hubs is incredibly visionary. I actually had a preliminary idea I wanted to pick your brain about.” She hijacked the conversation without leaving a single trace. The client’s eyes lit up. The partnership was finalized before dessert. For the rest of the dinner, Arthur didn’t say a word to me. Eleanor turned her head toward me. Her voice was a hushed whisper, but she bit out every single syllable. “Rowan, it was one sentence. Could you really not manage a single sentence?” I didn’t move. She turned back around and never looked at me again. That night, Bella knocked on my bedroom door. She was holding two mugs of warm milk, smiling a gentle, nurturing smile. “Rowan, Mom warmed some milk for us. Want some?” I didn’t take the mug, but I didn’t close the door either. She placed one of the mugs on the hallway console table, gently blowing on the steam. Her voice grew even softer. “Hey, don’t let tonight get to you.” “Big crowds can be intimidating. It’s totally fine.” She paused. “After all, you grew up on a farm. Being thrown into a high-society dinner is scary. Anyone would freeze up. We all understand.” “Right?” “Oh, right. This is my new gold medal for the piano competition. If you want one, I can beg Mom and Dad to buy a fake trophy so you have something to put on your shelf.” I looked into her eyes for one second. Then I gently closed the door. The moment the latch clicked into place, I heard a soft giggle from the hallway. It was the laugh of a house cat watching a stray bird fly into the wrong cage. A laugh full of pity, laced with absolute arrogance. Bella’s actions weren’t entirely baseless. To try and get me to speak, Eleanor had exhausted every method. At first, she tried to coax me. She decorated my room like a princess suite, replacing all the curtains and bedding. She piled my vanity with luxury skincare, claiming she wanted to make up for the twenty-three years she missed. Later, she tried appealing to my emotions. She would sit on the edge of my bed, hold my hand, and recount the day I was lost over and over again. She would talk until she sobbed, until her voice went hoarse. I would sit there and listen. When she was done, I would nod and slide under the covers. She would stare at me for a long time, then stand up, take a deep breath, and leave. Arthur was much more direct. “Rowan, what exactly is your endgame here?” “You get whatever money you want, whatever clothes you want. Are you actually deaf and dumb?” Finally, he ground out a sentence through clenched teeth. “If I knew this was how you were going to act, I would have never brought you back!” He turned on his heel and strode into his study. The sound of the door shutting wasn’t a violent slam. It was a heavy, controlled click. That calculated restraint hurt worse than a slammed door. It meant he was so thoroughly exhausted by me that he couldn’t even muster the energy to be properly angry. I sat in my chair, staring at the closed door. I knew Eleanor had heard him. But she didn’t come out to defend me. She just walked away on her tiptoes. The only person in this house I found tolerable was Grandpa Winston. He was seventy-three this year. In his youth, he hauled cement and drove delivery trucks, dragging the Sinclair legacy out of the mud with his bare hands. The day I was finally brought home, the whole family swarmed me. They cried, they laughed, they made a massive fuss. Only Grandpa sat in his armchair, quietly watching me for a long time. Then he stood up, pulled me out of the suffocating crowd, and gave me a personal tour of the estate. He showed me who lived in which room, what was kept in which cabinet, where the spare kitchen keys hung, and the passcode to the backup safe. When we were done, he pressed a keyring into my palm. “These are the keys to my study.” “If you ever get sick of the people in this house, come sit in my office.” “You don’t have to say a word. Just sit.” I looked down at the keys in my hand in silence. He patted my shoulder, turned, and walked away. I remembered that gesture for three years. Whenever the family held executive meetings at the house, Arthur would get irritated by my silence and eventually just barred me from entering the conference room. Grandpa never argued with him. But after every single meeting, he had his assistant deliver a copy of the meeting minutes straight to my bedroom. I flipped through them a few times. They were always annotated versions, filled with dense, handwritten notes in his distinct script. He didn’t talk much, but his eyes missed nothing. Last month, I was sunbathing on the patio. He pulled up a chair next to me and sat in silence for a good half hour. Then he spoke one sentence. “Rowan, you aren’t stupid.” “I’ve lived a long time. I know the difference between a fool and someone playing the fool.” I looked over at him. His lips twitched. It wasn’t quite a smile, but it carried a weight I couldn’t fully read. “Whatever it is you’re waiting for, just know your old man has your back.” He stood up, patted his knees, and went back inside. I buried those words in the bottom of my heart, turning them over and over in my mind for days. Tonight, Eleanor returned from Bella’s celebratory dinner and pushed my bedroom door open once again. She was carrying a small slice of cake. “Rowan, I know you feel wronged.” “You are my flesh and blood. If you would just open your mouth and say one word to me, I’ll forget everything that’s happened.” I stared at her bloodshot eyes for a long time. The words I had swallowed for three years felt like they were crawling up my throat on their own. I was one breath away from speaking. Crash. A violent noise erupted from the ground floor. 2 “Eleanor! Get down here! The debt your family owes is getting settled today!” It was an unfamiliar male voice. Gruff, booming, and thick with reckless arrogance. I frowned. I walked out to the second-floor balcony and looked down. Seven or eight men had crowded into the grand foyer. I recognized the man leading the pack. He was Eleanor’s distant cousin, Uncle Marcus. He was in his fifties, wearing a cheap, shiny leather jacket, his hair slicked back with enough grease to reflect the chandelier. Word was he made some decent cash in construction back in the day, but a string of bad investments left him drowning in debt. For the past two years, he had been circling the extended family, demanding “favors” and cash. Today, he brought a prop. He slammed a thick stack of legal documents onto the mahogany coffee table, making the teacups rattle in their saucers. “Arthur, this is the equity transfer agreement you signed with your own hand.” “Thirty-five percent of the Sinclair Group’s shares. That was the collateral we agreed on for the capital I fronted you back then.” “It’s in black and white. Are you going to honor it, or are we going to have a problem?” Arthur’s face was a mask of cold fury. He sat frozen on the sofa. Eleanor’s voice cracked into a shrill panic. “Marcus! Have you lost your mind? What agreement? What shares?” “Hey now, don’t get hysterical, Ellie,” Marcus chuckled. His smile was greasy and foul. “Ask Arthur. He knows exactly what happened back then.” “I had a handwriting analyst verify the signature, and it’s backed by a public notary. If you want to play dumb, we can settle this in court.” “But if you want to talk it out right now, I’m a reasonable guy. We can negotiate a buyout price.” Eleanor clutched her chest. The color drained entirely from her face. She stumbled backward. Bella lunged forward to catch her, but wasn’t fast enough, and the two of them went crashing down onto the Persian rug. “Mom! Mom, are you okay?!” Bella’s voice shrieked. Arthur shot up from the sofa, slamming his knee into the corner of the coffee table. Hot tea spilled everywhere. But no one was looking at them. Because sitting in the armchair in the far corner of the room, Grandpa Winston was gripping the armrests. His face was a sickly ash gray, his chest heaving in rapid, violent gasps. “Call an ambulance!” The living room descended into absolute chaos. Marcus stood his ground, taking in the panic without a flinch. Instead, he leaned back against a chair, pulled a piece of hard candy from his pocket, and lazily peeled off the wrapper. “Nobody panic. Save the old man first.” “But my boys and I aren’t leaving this house until we get a number we like.” He crumpled the plastic wrapper and tossed it casually onto the polished hardwood floor. Out of a room full of people, no one dared to breathe a word against him. I stood on the second-floor balcony, still holding the folded newspaper in my hand. I looked down at the circus playing out below. Three years. I hadn’t spoken a single word in three years. But today, I was done biting my tongue. I folded the newspaper neatly and rapped it against the wooden banister. Smack. It wasn’t a deafening sound. But it cut through the room like a blade of cold steel, instantly silencing every throat in the grand hall. 3 I walked down the stairs. Step by step. No rush. Marcus hadn’t noticed me yet. He had one leg propped up, half-chewing his candy, bragging to the thugs flanking him. Eleanor saw me first. The blood rushed from her face. She stood up and took a half-step toward me, then froze. She waved her hand at me in short, frantic, dismissive gestures, like she was trying to shoo away a stray dog. Her message was clear. Go back upstairs. Don’t come out. Don’t embarrass us in front of them. Bella stood next to Eleanor. Her eyes swept over my face, and she rolled her eyes in undisguised contempt. It was a look that screamed, know your place. Arthur was back on the sofa, clutching his chest, looking terrible. He turned his head when he heard footsteps, a flicker of hope in his eyes. When he realized it was me, the hope died instantly, replaced by a bone-deep, resigned exhaustion. I reached the bottom step and stopped. Marcus finally noticed the extra body in the room. He shot me a sideways glance. “Well, look what we have here. Who’s this?” No one answered him. He turned back to Arthur, jerking his chin in my direction. “Arthur, this your eldest?” “The one you dragged out of some hick town?” Arthur remained silent. Marcus flipped a heavy silver lighter in his hand, a look of twisted amusement on his face. “Man, Arthur, are you sure you grabbed the right kid?” The two thugs next to him let out a crude, booming laugh. “She’s standing there like a wooden post. Blank stare. Is she brain-damaged or something?” Eleanor gripped her phone so tightly her knuckles turned white. Bella looked down, pressing the back of her hand against her mouth to hide a subtle, trembling smirk. The thugs laughed louder. Marcus felt emboldened. He stood up, circled the coffee table, and swaggered over to me, stopping just inches away. He looked down his nose at me. “Hey, mute.” Just those two words. Tossed out casually, like he was calling a dog that didn’t know how to bark. “I’m talking to you.” “Are you deaf too?” He snapped his thick fingers right in front of my eyes. “She really is broken,” he sneered, his voice laced with genuine pity. “You’re better off keeping Bella around. At least when this family goes under, someone will know how to cry at your funeral. Hahaha!” “Marcus.” Just his name. Not too loud, not too soft. Calm and measured. But the moment those two syllables left my mouth, it was like someone had pulled the main breaker on the entire house. Marcus nearly choked on his hard candy. He coughed violently, straightening up, his eyes locking onto mine in shock. The smirk froze on Bella’s face like it was cast in resin. The phone in Eleanor’s hand slipped and hit the rug with a soft thud. She covered her mouth. Her shoulders began to shake. Arthur snapped his head around so fast his neck popped. His eyes instantly went red. His lips trembled. “You… you can speak?” I ignored him. I kept my eyes locked on Marcus. “That equity transfer agreement. Do you mind if I take a look?” “Take a look?” Marcus scoffed, a nervous edge creeping into his voice. He snatched the thick stack of papers from his briefcase and slapped it back onto the coffee table. It landed with a sharp crack. “Be my guest.” “Black ink on white paper. Signed by your dad, stamped by a notary. You think you’re gonna find a typo?” I picked up the document. I flipped open the first page. “The execution date on this contract is September 3rd, 2021.” “Yeah. So?” “From September 1st to September 7th, 2021, my father was in Boston attending the East Coast Corporate Summit.” I dropped the document back onto the table and looked up at him. “He was staying at the Four Seasons. Hotel records will show that on the morning of the 3rd, he attended the keynote panel. In the afternoon, he sat in on breakout sessions. That evening, he hosted three major clients at the hotel restaurant.” “My father was in Boston. This contract bears the seal of a notary public based in Chicago.” “Tell me, Marcus. Did my father split himself in two?” The living room went dead silent. A muscle in Marcus’s jaw twitched. The silver lighter in his hand stopped spinning. “W-well, maybe he signed it beforehand.” “A pre-signed contract submitted for notarization? A notary public wouldn’t verify the signatory’s physical presence and ID?” I flipped to the second page. “Furthermore, the notary whose stamp is on this document is named David Sterling.” “David Sterling had his license suspended on August 31st, 2021, for professional misconduct. A three-month suspension.” “On September 3rd, he had zero legal authority to stamp a grocery receipt, let alone a corporate equity transfer.” “This seal is a forgery.” The smug arrogance peeled off Marcus’s face layer by layer. The two thugs flanking him exchanged a nervous glance and slowly began inching toward the front door. “W-where did you get that kind of info…” “Public records. You can google it.” I closed the folder and pushed it to the center of the table. “Marcus. Forging a corporate contract. Forging a notary seal. Trespassing on private property, and extortion.” “Any one of those three is enough to put you away for a long time.” “You have two options right now.” “Option one: You take this trash off our table, walk out that door, and we pretend tonight never happened.” “Option two.” I paused, letting the silence hang. “I call my lawyer right now.” Marcus violently pushed himself off the chair, the legs screeching against the hardwood floor. He pointed a shaking finger at my face. “You little farm trash bitch, who the hell do you think you’re…” “Marcus.” I cut him off. My voice was still flat and icy. “I grew up on a farm, yes. But I went to Columbia Law.” “The very first case I worked as a clerk was a corporate contract fraud.” “The defendant got seven years in federal prison.” Marcus’s pointing finger slowly lowered. A heavy silence suffocated the room for five brutal seconds. Then, his legs started to shake. Not a nervous twitch. It was the physical collapse of a man who realized he was completely trapped. He took a half-step back, his knees buckled, and he dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. Someone in the living room let out a sharp gasp. Marcus knelt there, his head bowed, his shoulders heaving violently. A guttural, raspy sob tore from his throat. It didn’t sound like crying. It sounded like a cornered animal realizing the trap had just snapped shut on its leg. “I… I didn’t have a choice.” “I owe a lot of bad people a lot of money. They’re parked outside my house every day. My wife and kids are terrified.” “I just figured, the Sinclairs are loaded. Arthur is family. I thought he could bail me out.” “I wasn’t actually going to sue. I just… I just wanted to scare you guys into cutting a check.” “Please, cut me a break. Please! I’ll work like a dog for you for the rest of my life!” “Enough.” I cut him off. He looked up at me, his eyes bloodshot, snot and tears smearing his face. I stared him down. “You got yourself into debt. That is your problem.” “But you brought a forged document into this house and nearly gave an old man a fatal heart attack.” “That’s not desperation.” “That’s bullying.” “Get the hell out of my house,” Arthur finally barked, his voice thick with rage. Marcus and his thugs scrambled to their feet and practically tripped over themselves running out the front door. The living room fell into a hollow silence. I turned around. Eleanor was standing two steps away from me. She had both hands clamped over her mouth. Tears streamed freely down her face. She was staring at me like she was seeing me for the very first time. I looked at her. I looked at her for a long time. “Mom.” Just one word. Eleanor’s body gave a violent shudder. The floodgates opened. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t form a single word, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. “Get Grandpa to the hospital.” Eleanor froze for a split second, then nodded furiously. She didn’t even bother wiping her tears as she sprinted toward the coat rack to grab her purse. When she reached the door, she stopped. She looked back over her shoulder at me. That look held everything. Guilt. Heartbreak. And a fragile, desperate kind of relief. Then she turned around, pushed the door open, and ran out. Only Bella and I were left in the living room. She stood frozen next to the sofa. I didn’t look at her. I looked down, neatly stacked the remaining files on the coffee table, and slid them to the corner. “You can talk.” She finally spoke. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement ground out between her teeth, the realization dawning on her after running the math in her head a hundred times. I didn’t answer. “Three years.” Her voice was faint, like she was talking to herself in a trance. “Three entire years, and you didn’t say a single word.” “We thought you were…” She paused. “You lied to us for three years.” I smoothed out the last page of the file and stood up. “Lied?” I turned my head and looked at her. “When did I ever say I couldn’t speak?” Bella’s lips parted, but nothing came out. Exactly. She had nothing to say. Because I had never actually claimed to be mute. I walked toward the staircase. As I passed her, she suddenly reached out and grabbed my wrist. Her grip was tight. Desperate. I looked down at her hand, but didn’t pull away. “What do you want?” Bella looked up. Something was burning behind her eyes. It wasn’t tears. It was the raw, uncontainable panic of a gambler whose bluff had just been called. “Rowan, what exactly was your goal today?” “Did you want Mom and Dad to look at you like a hero?” “Did you want them to feel guilty?” “Or…” Her voice dropped an octave, laced with a tremor she couldn’t hide. “Or are you trying to kick me out of this house?” I looked at her. I let three seconds pass. “Bella.” “That man brought a forged contract.” “If he had actually walked away with what he wanted, do you think you’d still be standing in this mansion right now?” Bella’s grip loosened a fraction. Just a fraction, before she tightened it again. “I didn’t do it for you, and I didn’t do it for them.” I pulled my wrist out of her grasp. “Grandpa is on his way to the hospital.” “I didn’t want him to die.” “Do you think just because you opened your mouth and played lawyer, this house belongs to you now?” Her voice started to shake, but she was forcing the bravado. “Mom and Dad raised me for twenty-three years.” “Twenty-three years.” “You’ve been here for three, acting like a ghost. You speak a few sentences today, and you think you can just—” “I don’t think anything.” I cut her off. “I told you. I just didn’t want Grandpa to get hurt.” She glared at me, her chest heaving. “If you could talk this whole time, why didn’t you?” “What were you waiting for?” “What are you waiting for?!” She practically screamed the last sentence. Her voice cracked, echoing off the high ceiling. I didn’t say a word. I just watched her. I watched as the polished, perfect facade melted off her face piece by piece. Anger. Panic. And buried at the very bottom, absolute terror. She had lived in this house for twenty-three years. She knew better than anyone that this house never truly belonged to her. She only got to stay because the real owner hadn’t come to collect. And now, the owner was speaking. I turned and walked up the stairs. When I reached the third step, she spoke to my back. Her voice had dropped back down, eerily calm, stripping away all emotion. It didn’t even sound like her. “Rowan.” I didn’t stop. “Do you really think a few clever words are enough?” I kept walking. Her voice drifted up from behind me, growing fainter, like a poison whispered into the wind. “This isn’t your house to run yet.” I reached the second floor and walked into my room. I gently closed the door. I sat by the window, watching the streetlights flicker on the driveway below. Not my house to run? I had waited three years. I wasn’t in a rush.

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