1 At three in the morning, my husband texted me. [Where are you?] I was sitting in the observation room of the abortion clinic, utterly exhausted from the pain. I typed back: [I’ll tell you when I get home.] When I finally walked through the door, he was sitting at his computer, editing a vlog from a recent party. “I aborted the baby,” I said. “I’m being transferred overseas the day after tomorrow. Take tomorrow off, and let’s go to the courthouse to finalize the divorce.” He didn’t look up from the screen, just muttering his usual absent-minded “uh-huh.” I knew it. He had turned his hearing aids off again. For six years, I had excitedly shared the little details of my day with him. I had enthusiastically planned our future together. Over the years, I must have sung at least three hundred love songs to him. In the end, not a single note ever made it to his ears. I was genuinely so tired. I walked up behind him and flicked the switch on his hearing aid. He frowned instantly and snapped before I could speak, “What are you doing?” “The battery on my hearing aids is running low, and I left my charger at the office.” “I’m taking tomorrow off to go with Chloe to hear her sing at karaoke. Don’t waste my battery.” I nodded slowly and reached over, turning his hearing aid back off. Then let’s part in silence. … Allen suddenly flicked his hearing aid back on. “Whatever. I’ll just swing by the office and grab the charger tomorrow morning.” “What were you trying to say?” I didn’t answer. I walked over to the sofa, sat down, and took out the painkillers the doctor had prescribed. I swallowed them dry with a sip of cold water. Only then did Allen look away from his monitor and glance over at me. “Why are you taking pills?” “Vitamins,” I replied. He nodded, accepting the lie immediately. “Did the doctor say anything else? I would’ve gone with you today if I wasn’t so busy.” It was always the same excuse. Allen’s promises meant absolutely nothing to me anymore. Like during his last vacation. He promised to take me to the beach. I had bought the plane tickets and planned the entire itinerary. But at the last minute, Chloe claimed some creep was following her home from work. Allen threw a stack of cash at me to shut me up, and spent his entire month off acting as Chloe’s personal bodyguard, driving her to and from work every single day. I could let go of something trivial like a canceled vacation. But he also consistently bailed on my birthdays and our anniversaries. Every single time I asked, it was always because Chloe had some “emergency.” He never took the things I said seriously. He barely even listened. But whatever bizarre, dramatic excuse Chloe came up with, he treated it like an absolute royal decree. I never understood it. We were all adults; how could he lack such basic judgment? It wasn’t until much later that I finally realized—it had nothing to do with whether he believed her or not. It was entirely about who he loved. When a man loves a woman, even if she points at the sky and calls it the ground, even if she calls red green, he will find a way to justify her delusions as absolute truth. “Whatever. Let’s just go to sleep,” I said softly. “At your last physical, the doctor said your thyroid nodules were getting bigger. You need to stop staying up so late…” Before I could even finish my sentence, Allen reached up and switched his hearing aid off. He waved me away dismissively, signaling me to leave him alone. I suddenly let out a dry, bitter laugh. I was laughing at my own pathetic reflexes. Even after all these years, my first instinct was still to care about him. I walked back to the master bedroom and locked the door behind me. By the time I finished filling out my overseas transfer paperwork, it was already 6:00 AM. The sky was turning gray. The sound of his keyboard clacking in the living room had been replaced by the sound of a voice call. Even through the phone speaker and a solid wooden door, I could clearly hear Chloe’s obnoxiously loud voice. And Allen was patiently listening as she planned out their entire itinerary for the day. I buried my head under the heavy duvet and fell into a deep, exhausted sleep. 2 I had originally gone to the hospital yesterday for a prenatal checkup. When I woke up and saw the dark, torrential clouds outside the window, I turned to Allen, who was sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone. “Looks like a massive storm is coming. Can you drive me to the hospital?” I waited. Silence. I assumed he had turned off his hearing aids again. But when I looked closer, the tiny green indicator light was on. He was just so completely absorbed in his texts that he completely ignored me. I snatched the phone out of his hands. On the screen was a chat with a contact he saved as [Princess Chloe]. She was begging him to come to her pajama party tonight. Knowing that Allen absolutely despised loud, chaotic environments, I typed a reply for him: [Not going.] Allen panicked, lunging forward to snatch the phone back. He frantically tapped the screen to unsend the message. “I asked you to drive me to the hospital for my prenatal checkup,” I stated clearly. “When?” he asked without looking up. “This afternoon.” He kept typing furiously on his phone, ignoring me again. Just as my anger began to boil over, Allen suddenly laughed out loud. He shoved his phone screen in my face. “Chloe said she invited a bunch of old college friends over to her place for lunch. Let’s go hang out.” “I’ll take you to the hospital after we eat.” But at the lunch table, Chloe coaxed Allen into taking shots. The group kept passing bottles, laughing and drinking heavily. I felt sick watching them. I barely touched my food before standing up and saying I needed to get to the hospital. “Just reschedule the checkup,” Allen slurred slightly. “I’ll go with you in a few days.” He had absolutely no idea that specialist appointments had to be booked weeks in advance. “No,” I said firmly. Allen pulled out his phone to call me an Uber. “Don’t bother,” I rejected him flatly. He just nodded and told me to be careful on the way. Not a single person at that table offered to walk me to the door, let alone to the front gate of the complex. I walked out with an umbrella, but the sideways rain soaked my pants up to the knees. I wandered aimlessly around the massive apartment complex for ages before I finally found the exit. And of course, disaster always strikes in pairs. Traffic was gridlocked because of the storm. By the time I arrived, I had missed my slot and was pushed to the very last appointment of the day. Right next to the maternity clinic, the abortion waiting room was eerily empty. I ended up sitting there instead, staring blankly up at the glowing sign reading [Pregnancy Termination Clinic], lost in my own thoughts. Before I knew it, the sun had set. Usually, if I was out this late, Allen would have called to check on me. Today, there was dead silence. I thought maybe my phone was acting up. But when I unlocked it, I saw that Allen had just posted a new story on Instagram. He was at Chloe’s pajama party. I zoomed in on the photo. His platinum wedding band was missing from his left hand. I called his number. Chloe answered. She sounded incredibly annoyed, telling me I was being annoying and ruining their vibe by constantly checking up on him. I only asked one question: “Where is Allen’s wedding ring?” “Oh, he let me try it on earlier,” she paused casually. “It probably fell in between the couch cushions. I don’t know, we’ll look for it after the party.” The line went dead. Down the hall, the nurse finally called my name. “Evelyn? Is Evelyn here?” “Patient Evelyn, please come to exam room 3.” I took two steps forward, then stopped dead in my tracks. I turned around and walked up to the reception desk of the abortion clinic. “Do I need an appointment for a termination?” “No, walk-ins are accepted today.” “Okay. Please schedule me.” 3 A burst of giggling startled me awake. I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. It was only 7:30 AM. My head was pounding aggressively from lack of sleep. I blindly reached into the nightstand drawer for my migraine pills. Empty. I had reminded Allen at least five times to pick up a refill, and he still completely forgot. It took me several minutes to gather the strength to sit up and open the bedroom door. Allen was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Chloe was standing right beside him, acting as his sous-chef. “Go pour your sister-in-law a glass of warm water,” he told her affectionately. Chloe confidently opened the overhead cabinet. From a dozen different mugs, she flawlessly selected mine. She filled it and brought it over to me. “How did you know which mug is mine?” I asked. She turned around, heading back to the cabinets, digging through them as she answered, “Because I come over all the time.” “Whenever you go on business trips, I come over to hang out with Allen.” Chloe then pulled down Allen’s favorite mug. She stood on her tiptoes, looking confused. “Allen, where did you put my mug?” Allen pointed a spatula toward the UV sanitizer on the counter. “In there.” “I told you to stop tossing it in the sink when you’re done. You have to wash it and let it dry before putting it back in the cabinet.” “Otherwise, I have to run the sanitizer cycle every single time you leave it out.” Chloe grabbed her little cartoon mug, waltzed over to Allen, and affectionately rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. “I’m too lazy for that.” “I’ll just leave all the washing to you!” Allen playfully raised the spatula as if to bop her on the head. “You’re going to die of laziness one day!” They were so incredibly comfortable around each other. Like a real family. I stood there gripping my glass of water, feeling the warmth slowly seep out through the glass until it was ice cold against my palms. I had never seen this side of Allen before. When it was just us, he barely spoke. At dinner, I usually scrolled on my phone while he read articles on his tablet. Then we would wash up and go to our separate jobs. “Do you want a fried egg or hard-boiled?” Allen called out to me, holding a small frying pan. Chloe immediately plopped down in the chair next to me and excitedly raised her hand. “Chef Allen! I want both!” “Eggs are my absolute favorite!” Allen smiled warmly and slid the breakfast into her designated bowl. Then he finally looked back at me—the woman who had spoken exactly one sentence all morning. “What about you?” I pressed my lips together, my fingers lightly tracing the faint, red splotches still lingering on my forearm. It had barely been two weeks since my last severe allergic reaction. “I am deathly allergic to egg protein.” “Did you seriously forget?” 4 Allen completely froze. A flash of intense guilt crossed his face. He quickly scraped the remaining eggs in the pan into his own bowl. “I’ll make you something else right now…” “Don’t waste your time,” I cut him off smoothly. “Weren’t you in a huge rush to get to the office and grab your charger?” “You two take your time eating. Have fun today.” After I said that, Allen didn’t dare sit down. He stood there awkwardly holding the frying pan, unsure if he should put it down or retreat back into the kitchen. He kept covertly watching my face for a reaction. I flashed him an empty smile. “Is something wrong?” “No. Nothing.” Allen picked at his food, entirely distracted. Because if this had happened a year ago, I would have exploded on him. If he tried to run away from the argument, I would have chased him all the way to his office. One time, he got so frustrated he actually called me a “hysterical bitch.” My tears instantly spilled over. I grabbed him by the collar and screamed: “How is any of this my fault?” I screamed at him until I was hyperventilating, completely stripping myself of any dignity. When I finally looked up, panting, I saw Allen staring at me with a completely blank, bored expression. He had turned off his hearing aids ages ago. His dead-eyed calmness made me look like an absolute lunatic. But even if he couldn’t hear the desperation in my voice, couldn’t he see the massive tears streaming down my face? Huge drops of water hitting the floor right between us. Why couldn’t a single drop touch his heart? Why didn’t he feel even an ounce of pity for me? After that day, I never picked a fight with Allen again. I slowly figured it out. I slowly accepted the reality of my marriage. And slowly, I stopped loving him so much. After breakfast, Allen went back into the bedroom to change. A few minutes later, he walked out wearing a crisp dress shirt. “Honey, where are my ties?” I gestured vaguely toward the balcony. “There’s a whole pile out there. Pick whichever one you want.” He stood completely still in front of me. I finally looked up from my phone. “What now?” “My tie,” he muttered, looking uncomfortable. “Are you… are you not going to tie it for me?” “You have two fully functioning hands,” I replied flatly. “Right.” Allen was entirely dependent on me picking out his outfits, matching his ties, and even selecting his cufflinks every single morning. I always made sure his attire perfectly suited whatever meetings he had that day. I was naturally a very low-maintenance, casual person. But marrying him had forced me to become hyper-organized and domestic. Color-coordinating his silk ties, hand-steaming every single dress shirt, constantly updating his wardrobe to keep him looking sharp and modern. “I can’t get the knot right,” he whined, fumbling helplessly with the silk fabric. “Just help me.” I sighed, stood up, and took the tie from his hands. After expertly looping the knot, I suddenly yanked the fabric straight up, nearly choking him. “Allen, you really need to stop relying on me so much.” “What are you going to do when I leave you?” 5 Allen didn’t take my words seriously at all. He gently shoved my shoulder and waved at Chloe. “Let’s roll.” “I’m coming with you,” I said. I needed to swing by the pharmacy to buy my migraine medication anyway. Both of them turned to look at me—one with intense annoyance, the other with deep frustration. “Relax. I’m not going to crash your little date.” I opened the shoe cabinet. Sitting right dead center on the top shelf was a brand-new pair of fluffy, cartoon slippers. Winter was still months away, but Allen had already made sure Chloe’s feet would be warm when she came over. I pulled my eyes away from the slippers, grabbed my own sneakers, and put them on. “I’m getting dropped off halfway. Let’s go.” Allen and Chloe walked side-by-side to the garage, laughing and joking the entire way. They were gossiping about the pajama party—who chose a crazy dare, who got blackout drunk and embarrassed themselves. When we reached his SUV, Chloe naturally pulled open the passenger door and climbed right in. She immediately reclined the seat, draped a plush little blanket over her lap, and then dug through the glove compartment. She violently shoved my expensive lipsticks and sunscreen out of the way just to find her cheap little compact mirror. Allen gave me an incredibly awkward look and muttered, “Maybe you could…” “I’ll sit in the back,” I offered before he could finish. He audibly sighed in relief. The SUV cruised smoothly down the avenue. Allen’s left hand rested on the steering wheel, his ring finger still totally bare. “Did you ever find your ring?” I asked out of nowhere. The car noticeably swerved for a split second. Allen didn’t say a word. Chloe was completely engrossed in watching the vlog Allen had edited for her last night. When she reached a funny part, she let out an ear-piercing shriek. “Oh my god!” When high-pitched sounds hit Allen’s hearing aids, the feedback loop would trigger an agonizing, screeching pop right in his ear. It caused him severe physical pain. That was why Allen absolutely hated loud noises. Even when I spoke to him, I had to carefully modulate my volume to make sure I didn’t cross his pain threshold. But Chloe was literally shrieking at the top of her lungs inches from his face, and his expression didn’t even flicker. Only his knuckles gripping the steering wheel turned pure white. “Allen, you are an absolute genius!” “I literally love you so much!!” Allen smiled softly. “I’m glad you like it.” With their loud, obnoxious banter, my question was completely buried and forgotten. Whatever. It really didn’t matter. It was just a piece of metal. I was about to throw mine in the trash anyway. 6 After picking up my prescription, I asked the pharmacist a few quick questions about managing chronic migraines. By the time I walked out the sliding glass doors, it had started to rain again, and the sky looked like it was about to absolutely dump on the city. I stood under the pharmacy awning, hoping to wait it out and catch a cab home. But the downpour started at 10:00 AM and didn’t let up until 10:00 PM. The city’s ancient drainage system completely collapsed under the deluge. The cabs stopped running, and the buses were completely grounded. The floodwaters on the streets kept rising until it reached halfway up my calves. My skirt was completely soaked through. The freezing water chilled my abdomen, and the fresh surgical wounds from my abortion started throbbing violently. I pulled out my phone and texted Allen: [Where are you? Can you please come pick me up?] [The flooding is getting really dangerous.] The messages went completely unanswered. I started calling him. I called him nearly twenty times. He didn’t pick up a single one. Gritting my teeth against the searing cramps, I finally stepped off the curb into the filthy, freezing floodwater and started the long walk home. Suddenly, my foot slipped off the edge of a dislodged manhole cover. Splash— Foul, freezing sewage instantly swallowed me over my head. I thrashed wildly in the dark water, fighting to break the surface. Out of nowhere, a strong hand clamped onto my jacket and brutally hauled me up onto the pavement. If it wasn’t for her, I legitimately would have drowned in an open sewer. The young woman dragged me onto her emergency inflatable raft. “Where do you live? I’ll take you home.” By the time I finally reached my apartment, it was pitch black outside. Fighting through a splitting migraine and agonizing abdominal cramps, I stood under the scalding water in the shower. The second I stepped out, my legs gave way, and I collapsed onto the bathroom rug, completely blacking out. When I finally regained consciousness, the clock read 2:00 AM. The rain had stopped, but two bright, obnoxious voices echoed down the hallway. “I literally carried you on my back for three blocks. You are trying to kill me.” “Get down.” Chloe giggled flirtatiously. “No! I don’t wanna!” “I want you to carry me. I want you to carry me forever!” The front door clicked open, and the hallway lights flipped on. Allen kicked off his ruined leather shoes. His slacks were rolled up past his knees, but they were still completely soaked in muddy water. Chloe, on the other hand, was perfectly dry and spotless. They moved into the bathroom with sickening intimacy, sharing the same hand towel to wipe their faces. Neither of them even glanced toward the dark living room where I was sitting. “It’s getting chilly in here. Are you cold?” Allen anxiously pulled her toward the light to inspect her clothes. “Wait here, I’ll go find you something warm to wear.” He walked straight into the master bedroom and came out carrying an armful of my expensive silk nightgowns. “These belong to your sister-in-law. Pick whichever one you like.” I absolutely despised people touching my personal belongings. Allen knew this better than anyone on earth. Chloe immediately snatched up the ruby-red silk slip. “I want this one!” That dress was my anniversary gift from Allen. I hadn’t even brought myself to wear it yet, and he just casually handed it over to another woman to sleep in. “Tonight was absolutely legendary!” Chloe was bouncing around the living room like a hyperactive child. Watching her, I couldn’t help but see a mirror image of the girl I used to be. Except the response she got was entirely different. Allen looked at her with pure, unfiltered adoration, hanging onto her every single word as if missing a syllable would be a tragedy. “Can you two please shut the hell up?” I finally spoke, shattering their little bubble. They both completely froze. After a suffocating silence, Allen quickly launched into an excuse. He claimed Chloe’s apartment building was in a low-elevation zone and prone to flooding, so he brought her here to keep her safe. I didn’t say a single word back. I just stood up and walked straight into the guest bedroom, locking the door behind me. That night, sleep was completely impossible. Through the thin walls, I could hear them whispering and laughing together in the living room. All night long. The next morning, Allen and Chloe ate breakfast together and walked to the front door together. “Honey, I’m going to drop Chloe off at her place first.” “I’ll swing back around and take you to work.” “Just wait for me.” I was absolutely never going to wait for Allen again. I packed a single suitcase. I pulled out the divorce papers I had printed months ago but never had the courage to sign, and finally scrawled my name across the bottom line. I left the documents sitting directly on top of the dining table, right next to the hospital discharge papers from my abortion. He would see them the second he walked back through the door. I took a cab straight to the international terminal, breezed through security, and boarded my flight. The overhead intercom politely requested all passengers switch their devices to airplane mode or power them off completely. I pulled my phone out of my purse and pressed the power button. But right before the screen went black, an absolute avalanche of notifications exploded onto the screen.

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1 My wife came back from her business trip to Los Angeles and handed me a souvenir. It was a keychain of Dawn Bellwether, the villainous sheep from Zootopia. “Isn’t she cute? The second I saw her, I immediately thought of you.” At that exact moment, I knew she was cheating on me. Vanessa’s public Instagram feed was completely spotless. She only ever shared boring corporate updates and links to industry articles. Out of curiosity, I logged into an old burner account I rarely used and searched for her handle. Her profile had a ‘Close Friends’ story highlight. The very first pinned photo was a selfie of her and my best friend. My best friend, Finn, had just updated his own social media. There was a carousel of nine photos. Every single one of them featured Vanessa in some way. “One week trip. Two days of work, five days of dates. Let’s go!” “She bought the Lightning Lane passes for Disney so we didn’t have to wait in line. Absolute perfection!” “Matching Nick and Judy keychains for us. As for the villainous sheep, I wonder who we should give that to.” accompanied by two smirking emojis. I switched back to my burner account and refreshed Vanessa’s page. Sure enough, she had posted a new picture just an hour ago. The bunny, Judy Hopps, was clipped to her pink designer briefcase. The fox, Nick Wilde, was hanging off Finn’s black leather backpack. The caption was just two words. “A pair.” All the oxygen was instantly sucked out of the room. My lungs completely forgot how to work. So she knew exactly what she was doing. She knew the fox and the bunny were a romantic couple. We had dated for three years and been married for two. Yet somehow, in her twisted romance with Finn, I was nothing more than the villain standing in their way. I logged back into my main account and tapped on Vanessa’s profile. I couldn’t see a single thing. It wasn’t that she had blocked me. She had explicitly told me years ago that she never posted personal photos. When we were dating, I used to complain about it. I begged her to post a picture of us together just once. She would just hold my hand and laugh at me for being childish. “Declan, I am a business professional now. If I post cheesy couple photos on my feed, what will my investors think?” “If they think I’m distracted or unreliable, they’ll pull their funding.” “My startup is just getting off the ground. I have to project absolute competence. If I build this company into an empire, we’ll be set for life. Isn’t that what matters?” I swallowed those hypocritical excuses for five entire years. It was all a lie. She could post photos. She could pin matching couple pictures to the top of her page. The subject just wasn’t me. It was Finn. The boy who grew up in the house next door to mine. The boy I had protected and raised alongside me. The boy I treated as my own flesh and blood. Tears completely blurred my vision, heavy drops hitting my phone screen. I really was childish. I was a complete idiot. I had been flawlessly played by the two people I loved most in this world. Right then, a notification popped up on my phone. A text from Finn. “Declan! Check out my new keychain. Pretty cool, right?” He attached a photo of the solo fox keychain. If this were yesterday, I would have sent back a genuine compliment. But right now, his playful, innocent tone made me want to violently throw up. A week ago, Finn had excitedly told me he made a new friend from California and was flying out to LA to hang out for a week. When he told me, he nudged my shoulder with a mischievous grin. “You’re not going to get jealous that I’m going on vacation with someone else, are you?” I was so incredibly naive. I thought he was just joking about our bromance. I played along, acting like the generous older brother. “Obviously not! You can make a hundred new friends, but I’ll always be your best man.” “But if you dare find a friend better than me, you’re dead meat!” I had even factored in Vanessa’s schedule. “Actually, Vanessa is flying to LA for a conference in a couple of days. If you and your friend run into any trouble, just call her.” Finn had laughed so hard he bent over, raising his hand as if taking an oath. “I swear on my life, I will never find a friend better than Declan Reed.” “Don’t worry, man. I will text you every single day. I’ll tell you exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going. You’re going to virtually experience LA with me!” I never could have imagined that the vacation I was virtually experiencing was my own wife’s romantic getaway. 2 I didn’t reply to his photo. Instead, I scrolled up through our chat history. Two nights ago, he sent me a barrage of texts. “We went to a crazy expensive Michelin star place tonight! It was insane, but thank God my friend paid! We have to go together next time, Declan!” “Disneyland was packed today, my feet are killing me.” Over the past few days, he had flawlessly shared his entire itinerary with me. And I had eagerly replied to every single text, genuinely thrilled that he was finally stepping out of his shell and enjoying life. Finn and I grew up in houses directly across from each other. His mother passed away when he was young, and his father was a violent alcoholic. Whenever things got bad at his house, he would run across the street and bang on my front door. I would pull him inside, clean up his bruises, and sneak him my favorite snacks. Since I was two grades ahead of him, I basically became his private tutor. I used to sit with him on my porch and tell him: “Finn, you can’t choose the family you’re born into. But you can study hard, get into a good college, and build a completely new life for yourself.” “Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.” But life doesn’t always work out like a movie. He didn’t get into college, and he couldn’t escape the suffocating grip of his toxic household. Last year, his father finally drank himself to death. Finn called me in the middle of the night, sobbing hysterically. “Declan, my dad is dead. I don’t have a single family member left in the world…” I drove straight to his town, packed his bags, and moved him to Boston with me. I pulled strings to get him a decent job, and introduced him to Vanessa. I wiped his tears and looked him dead in the eye. “I am your family now.” He nodded aggressively and pulled me into a crushing hug. And it only took one single year. One year for him to start sleeping with my wife behind my back. I didn’t know if he ever genuinely viewed me as family. But he clearly viewed my wife as his own. The sound of the deadbolt clicking snapped me out of my trance. The front door swung open. Vanessa walked in. I looked up at her, but the joyful spark that usually accompanied her return from business trips was completely dead. My eyes were dark, empty pools. A flash of surprise crossed her face. She quickly dropped her bags and hurried over, sitting close to me on the sofa. She placed her pink designer briefcase on the coffee table. The Judy Hopps keychain dangling from the handle felt like a physical stab to the chest. She reached out, gently holding my hand, her voice dripping with fake concern. “What’s wrong, honey? Are you feeling sick?” I didn’t answer her. My eyes slowly, mechanically drifted down to the rabbit keychain on her bag. Noticing my gaze, she let out a flawless, airy laugh to explain it away. “Oh, a friend of mine happened to go to Disneyland while I was out there. They sent me pictures of the gift shop and asked if I wanted anything.” “So I picked out the sheep for you, and grabbed the bunny for myself.” I forced a tight, hollow smile onto my face. “Was that friend Finn?” She paused for a microscopic second, but her tone remained perfectly casual. “Haha, he told you already? I guess that makes sense. You guys are best friends, he tells you everything.” She glanced down at my phone screen and saw the photo Finn had just sent me. “Oh, look at that. He bought the fox for himself. That’s pretty cute.” Even now, backed into a corner of her own making, she was still effortlessly spinning lies. I stared directly into her eyes. This was the face I had deeply loved for five years. But in this exact moment, she looked like a completely repulsive stranger. “Did you know the fox and the bunny are a romantic couple?” I heard my own voice ask the question. Vanessa visibly stiffened, but she recovered with terrifying speed. “How would I know that? I haven’t even seen the movie. You know I don’t care about childish cartoons.” “I was swamped with meetings all week. I wasn’t paying attention to what Finn was buying.” “Honestly, he is so clueless. Why didn’t he just tell me it was a matching set?” Without missing a beat, she confidently snatched my phone from my hand and held down the voice memo button on Finn’s chat. “Finn, it’s Vanessa. Why does the keychain you bought perfectly match the one you gave me? You didn’t explain it at all, and now Declan is misunderstanding things. You better text him right now and clear this up!” 3 The screen showed the typing bubble for an agonizingly long time. Finally, a text popped up. “Oh my god, I seriously didn’t even notice! Sorry about that! Declan, you’re definitely not mad at me, right?” Vanessa handed my phone back, looking incredibly smug, as if expecting an apology from me. “There. Misunderstanding completely resolved!” “Is this why you were giving me the cold shoulder? You were jealous over a piece of plastic?” “Finn already apologized. He’s just a tragic kid with zero social awareness. Don’t be so hard on him.” Having delivered her perfect alibi, she dramatically checked her luxury watch. “I have a dinner meeting with some major clients tonight. I literally only came home to drop off my luggage and see your handsome face.” “Be a good boy. Your wife has to go make us some money.” She playfully pinched my cheek, turned on her heel, and walked right back out the door. Watching the door click shut behind her, the final lingering trace of hope in my heart turned to ash. I walked into the master bathroom, splashed freezing water on my face, and pulled out her massive suitcases. I started packing. Every single piece of clothing, every pair of shoes, every piece of jewelry that belonged to Vanessa. When the bags were full, I called a premium moving company and instructed them to deliver everything to Finn’s downtown apartment. The apartment I was currently paying the rent for. When we first got married, Vanessa’s startup was bleeding money. We were completely broke. My parents had paid the down payment on the house we currently lived in. Since she decided to step out of our marriage, she permanently lost the right to step foot in this house. As the movers were hauling the last few boxes out the door, my phone buzzed twice. It was a text from Vanessa. “Honey, the client is dragging this dinner out. It’s going to be super late. I’m just going to book a hotel room downtown so I don’t wake you up when I get back.” Ha. If I hadn’t already seen the truth with my own two eyes, I would have been deeply moved by her incredible thoughtfulness. But right now, that text was just a convenient reminder. I pulled up my burner account and searched Finn’s page. Just as I predicted, he had uploaded a brand new picture to his Close Friends story. It was a photo of Vanessa. She had kicked off her designer heels, and her nylon-clad feet were resting comfortably across Finn’s lap. The caption read: “She told her boring husband she was out with a client.” I let out a bitter scoff. I meticulously screenshotted his entire feed. I did the same for Vanessa’s hidden profile, making sure not to miss a single post or timestamp. I compiled all the screenshots into a secure folder and emailed it directly to my lawyer. “My wife is having an affair. I am filing for a contested divorce. Please send me a list of all required documentation.” The exact second Finn sent that fake apology text to Declan, he had immediately messaged Vanessa. “Vee, please come over tonight. Declan sounded so scary, I’m really freaking out.” accompanied by two pleading emojis. Reading that text, Vanessa’s heart fluttered. Declan had introduced Finn as his childhood best friend. But from the very first time she met Finn, she knew exactly what he was doing. He was practically undressing her with his eyes. Initially, she found him pathetic and beneath her notice. But Finn was incredibly skilled at playing the victim. His tragic backstory, his teary-eyed vulnerable looks, the way he would gently tug on her sleeve and softly call her “Vee.” It gave Vanessa an intoxicating rush of power. She felt worshipped. She felt like a god. It was a dynamic she could never have with Declan. So she secretly crossed the line and started sleeping with Finn. The very first time she went to his apartment, he buried his face in her chest and cried softly. “Vee, I feel so incredibly insecure. I feel like the second you walk out that door, you stop belonging to me.” Those words stroked her massive ego. Right then and there, she posted a selfie of them cuddling in bed and pinned it to the top of her profile. Obviously, she meticulously blocked Declan and every single mutual acquaintance they shared. Because she never had the slightest intention of letting Declan find out, and she certainly never intended to actually divorce him. Declan was her rock. They had built a life together. Declan was handsome, fiercely independent, and incredibly supportive. During the darkest days of her startup, Declan’s financial and emotional backing kept her afloat. Why would she ever throw away a perfect husband for a broken toy like Finn? But the kid needed constant reassurance, and she liked playing the savior. So she fabricated a client dinner and drove straight to Finn’s apartment. Of course, she wasn’t just going there to comfort him. She had something far more important to deal with. 4 She needed to remind Finn to stay in his lane. He was getting sloppy, and she couldn’t risk Declan getting suspicious. The moment she unlocked the apartment door, Finn practically threw himself at her. He helped her take off her trench coat, fetched her slippers, and linked his arm through hers to pull her toward the sofa. “Vee…” Finn barely got a word out before Vanessa coldly cut him off. “You need to be more careful.” Finn blinked in confusion. “What?” She frowned, her tone sharpening. “I said be careful. Don’t let Declan catch on. If you buy a matching plushie, keep it in your bedroom. Why the hell did you send him a picture of it?” “And all those pictures of the restaurants and the theme park? Why are you sending him a play-by-play? Are you trying to provoke him? Are you showing off?” “Finn, you need to remember your exact place in this arrangement.” Finn looked instantly devastated. He lowered his eyes, his voice trembling. “I wasn’t… I just… You and Declan are legally married. I barely get to spend any time with you. I just couldn’t help myself…” His eyes grew glassy with tears. He looked incredibly fragile and pitiful. Historically, this specific look was his ultimate weapon against her. But tonight, the memory of Declan’s cold, calculating stare back at the house was making her deeply anxious. Suddenly, Finn’s pathetic whining just felt incredibly annoying. “Enough. Where is that fox keychain? Go throw it in the trash.” Finn reluctantly obeyed, looking like a kicked puppy. Seeing his depressed slump, Vanessa finally sighed. “Get dressed. I’ll take you out to a nice dinner.” On their way to the restaurant, they drove past a massive moving truck heading the opposite direction. During dinner, Finn shamelessly tried to play footsie under the table, doing everything he could to seduce her. But Vanessa was completely distracted. She felt a lingering sense of dread. Just as she was about to tell him to stop acting like a child and eat his food, Finn’s cell phone rang. He answered it, his tone instantly shifting to arrogant annoyance. “Yeah, who is this?” “Hello, is this Mr. Finn?” “We are calling from the logistics company. We have a massive shipment of personal belongings registered to a Ms. Vanessa to drop off at your residence.” “Are you currently home to sign for it?” 5 The private dining room was dead quiet, and the caller’s voice leaked clearly through the speaker. Vanessa’s head snapped up. She stared dead at Finn. But Finn acted as if he had been anticipating this exact call. He casually replied to the dispatcher. “Just leave it all stacked in the hallway outside my door.” He hung up. Vanessa’s brow furrowed aggressively. “What belongings of mine?” Finn slid into the booth next to her, wrapping his arms around her waist and softening his voice into a sweet purr. “Vee, I bought a few little surprises for you. A high-end massage chair, and a brand new memory foam mattress.” “I just wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible whenever you stay over.” Finn honestly believed this grand, thoughtful gesture would melt her heart and earn him a night of passionate rewards. Instead, Vanessa physically shoved his arm away. Her voice was ice cold. “Finn, you crossed a major line.” Finn froze, the smile dying on his face. “I warned you to remember your place.” “I do not need you buying furniture for me. Your only job is to sit quietly in your apartment and wait until I decide to call you.” “Declan literally pays your rent. He drops by your apartment sometimes. If he sees a brand new luxury mattress and a massage chair, what exactly are you going to tell him? What if he starts digging?” Her tone grew even harsher. “I am going to spend the next few weeks at home focusing on Declan. Do not contact me, and do not do anything stupid.” Finn was entirely blindsided by this reaction. He froze for a few seconds, then slowly lowered his head. His eyes turned bright red, and he practically whispered. “I understand… But Vee, can you just stay with me tonight? Just for tonight.” He knew exactly which angle made him look the most tragically beautiful. And sure enough, looking at his broken, desperate expression, Vanessa’s cold exterior finally cracked. “Fine. One last night.” After dinner, they drove back to Finn’s apartment complex. The moment the elevator doors slid open on his floor, they were greeted by an absolute mountain of stuff. It clearly wasn’t just a mattress and a massage chair. Dozens of heavy cardboard boxes and premium luggage bags were stacked meticulously from the floor to the ceiling, completely barricading Finn’s front door. Vanessa’s frown deepened into a scowl. Finn looked genuinely baffled. “This… did they deliver to the wrong floor? Let me call the company back.” For some inexplicable reason, a terrifying chill ran down Finn’s spine. He instinctively stepped away from Vanessa, ducking into the concrete stairwell to redial the number. The logistics dispatcher verified the address three separate times. “No mistake, sir. The receiver is listed as you. But the client who paid for the delivery was a Mr. Declan Reed. He gave us strict orders to leave everything at your exact door.” All the blood instantly drained from Finn’s face. … Vanessa stood alone in the hallway, leaning against the wall, impatiently waiting for Finn to return. Her eyes wandered aimlessly over the mountain of boxes. Suddenly, her gaze locked onto a piece of luggage near the bottom. A matte black Rimowa suitcase. It had a very distinct, deep scratch near the handle. She recognized that suitcase immediately. It was hers. Her heart began to hammer violently against her ribs. She pulled the heavy suitcase out of the stack, laid it flat on the carpet, and unzipped it. Inside were her expensive silk blouses and tailored skirts, folded flawlessly. Clothes that were supposed to be hanging in the walk-in closet she shared with Declan. Breathing heavily, she ripped open the tape on the nearest cardboard boxes. Her business books. Her corporate documents. Even the glass wind chimes they had bought together in Hawaii for their first wedding anniversary. The ones that were supposed to be hanging by their bedroom window. Every single thing she owned was sitting in this hallway. Vanessa’s hands began to shake uncontrollably. She sprinted down the hall and violently kicked open the heavy door to the stairwell. When Finn saw her face, he instinctively backed up against the concrete wall in pure terror. “Did you tell Declan about us?!” The elegant, composed businesswoman from dinner was completely gone. She looked like a cornered, feral animal. Finn shook his head frantically, holding his hands up in defense. “No! I swear to God I didn’t!” “I block Declan on every single post I make! You know that! You personally check my phone before I post anything!” Vanessa didn’t believe a word coming out of his mouth. She violently snatched the phone out of his hand. She scrolled manically through his Instagram settings, his hidden lists, and even read through their entire private text history. There were absolutely no leaks. It was flawless.

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1 At yet another Montgomery family dinner, Chris’s new female assistant sat right in the chair that belonged to me. I looked at my husband. “She is sitting in the seat meant for the lady of the house. Do you have absolutely nothing to say about this?” Chris rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with his usual annoyance. “If you can’t be bothered to show up on time, don’t cry about losing your seat. Sit in one of the empty chairs. If you don’t want to sit, then get the hell out.” I opened my mouth to argue, but Chris’s inner voice flooded my mind before I could speak. [Come on, get mad. Tell me you need me. Tell them you belong right next to me. Prove you love me. That is the only way I feel safe.] This time, I refused to satisfy his twisted cravings. I just lowered my head and slowly slipped the diamond wedding band off my finger. “Since there isn’t even a place left for the lady of the house, I guess I am no longer needed here.” “Let’s get a divorce.” The heavy ring hit the mahogany table with a sharp, crisp clink. Chris’s face drained of color. Even his parents, who had been quietly enjoying the drama, suddenly looked panicked. Six years. I had lived like this for six solid years. Every single time Chris used his words like poisoned blades to cut me down, I never needed him to coax me back. All I had to do was listen to his desperate, begging inner thoughts, and I would foolishly run right back into his arms to make peace. Over time, his family grew completely used to this toxic dance. His mother would even laugh and joke about it. She would say that an awkward, stubborn man just needed a wife who wouldn’t run away no matter how hard he yelled. So the moment I took off the ring, Mrs. Montgomery practically leaped out of her seat. “Sundra… what is wrong? Are you just in a bad mood today? You are normally never this petty.” Mr. Montgomery slammed his fork down, looking stern. “This is a family dinner. Even if you are throwing a tantrum, you do not joke about divorce. Put the ring back on.” I let out a soft, dry laugh. “Oh, you know it is a family dinner? So when exactly did Assistant Lily become a member of the family?” The older couple instantly choked on their words. Chris stood up abruptly. His jaw was clenched so tight the muscle twitched. “Sundra, are you done being dramatic?” “You want a divorce? Fine! Then get the hell out of my sight right now! This house doesn’t welcome an ungrateful stray dog like you!” Beneath those sharp, familiar words, his inner voice was a bleeding mess. [Sundra, why? Why do you want a divorce? Are you throwing me away? Didn’t you promise you would love me forever?] [This is a sick joke, right? As long as I lose my temper, you will rush over and hug me. You always do.] I had swallowed these agonizing, two-faced emotions for an entire decade. When I first met Chris, he suffered from severe emotional trauma and a crushing inability to express affection. He literally could not voice his true feelings. He used the cruelest, most sarcastic words as a shield to attack anyone who tried to get close. And I, like a fool, became the lucky girl who could hear his true thoughts. Whenever he screamed at me to get out, his inner voice would be on its knees, begging: [Don’t leave. I need you.] Because my heart broke for him, I slowly fell in love with him. Four years of dating. Six years of marriage. Because I stayed by his side, he finally opened his locked-up heart. He stopped needing medication to function like a normal human being. But over the past six years, a sick pattern emerged. He was gentle and polite to every stranger he met. Yet to me, his wife, he offered nothing but coldness and biting insults. It was not like I never felt wronged. I cried. I hurt. But his mother would always pat my hand and say that Chris was sick in the head. She told me he wasn’t normal, that I needed to give him grace. She insisted his cruelty was just a front and that his heart belonged entirely to me. Because I could hear his thoughts, I believed her. Until his assistant, Lily, showed up. Chris, a man who didn’t possess a single romantic bone in his body, rented out an entire amusement park for Lily’s birthday. I had been admiring a certain diamond necklace for six months. He bought it without blinking and fastened it around Lily’s neck. He even brought her to our private family dinners. His inner voice would chant over and over that he loved me, desperately craving my jealousy to soothe his deep-seated insecurities. But as I looked at my seat, the seat I had earned through ten years of blood and tears, happily occupied by another woman while I was shoved into a corner… I suddenly woke up. I had been lying to myself this whole time. Where a man puts his tenderness, that is where his love truly lies. 2 Looking at Chris’s trembling lips, my face remained perfectly calm. “Okay. I am leaving.” Ignoring his parents’ urgent shouts, I turned and walked straight toward the foyer. Just as my hand touched the door handle, a brutal grip clamped around my wrist, jerking me backward. [Sundra, are you actually mad? I am so scared. Are you throwing me away?] [If you leave me, I will die!] [Please don’t throw me away!] The frantic, screaming thoughts swarmed my brain, wrapping tightly around my chest. Shocked, I looked back at Chris. The rims of his eyes were a glaring, bloodshot red. For a second, my heart wavered. Then, his icy voice smashed into me. “You can leave, but take off the shoes on your feet! I bought those for you!” My entire body went rigid. I looked down at the faded, well-worn flats on my feet. He bought them for me right after we got married. He had simply dropped the box in the living room without saying a single word. But his thoughts had leaked out from the bedroom. [Wife, did you see them? Come ask me about them. Ask me if I bought them just for you.] [I had them custom-made. Come praise me, wife!] [I want you to be the happiest bride in the whole world.] For six years, I cherished these shoes. I wore them everywhere. Not just because Chris bought them, but because they represented the fierce, burning love he couldn’t say out loud. But now. I squatted down, my fingers numb, and slowly slipped the shoes off. “Fine. They are yours.” Chris’s face turned even darker. The red in his eyes looked like suppressed rage. His mother hurried over, trying to run interference. “Sundra, you have been with Chris for ten years. You know he never means what he says. How could he actually let you walk out of here barefoot? He is just using this as an excuse to make you stay.” The moment the words left her mouth, Chris grabbed the shoes from the floor and tossed them straight into the roaring fireplace. “You wore them for six years. I find them disgusting now.” His tone was incredibly light, but the words hit my chest like a sledgehammer. Watching the flames swallow the leather, a suffocating pain seized my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. So the shoes I had carefully protected and cleaned for six long years meant absolutely nothing to him. They were just trash to be burned. Catching sight of my tear-filled eyes, Chris’s inner voice went into a frenzy. [Wife, are you sad? You still care about me, right?] [Just admit you were wrong. Just tell me this was all a joke. I will fill your entire closet with new shoes right now!] [I will buy you so many beautiful shoes!] I listened to his frantic thoughts with total numbness. My heart did not flutter. It did not ache anymore. No matter how beautiful the new shoes were, they would never be the first pair. My relationship with Chris had finally reached the end of its rope. Just like that fire, it had burned until nothing remained but dirty, gray ash. I walked out of the house barefoot. Not a single person chased after me. The only thing I heard was Lily’s gloating voice drifting from the dining room. “Are you really not going to chase your wife? She looked pretty heartbroken.” “Chase her for what?” Chris scoffed. “Let her go. Give it half an hour, and she will come crawling back to apologize.” He didn’t know I was actually leaving for good. My company had offered a highly coveted position at the overseas branch. I took one of the spots. My flight was booked for tomorrow. 3 By the time I got back to our townhouse, the soles of my feet were covered in tiny, bleeding cuts from the pavement. I sat on the edge of the tub, mechanically pouring rubbing alcohol over the wounds. As the sting subsided, I looked around. This used to be our warm, private sanctuary. Now, without me even realizing it, the house was stuffed with Lily’s belongings. “Sundra, Lily gave me this plush bunny. Put it on the sofa. I want to see it every day.” “Sundra, Lily picked out this tie. Does it look good?” “This is the diffuser Lily told me to use in the living room. She said it smells exactly like her.” Whenever I lost my mind and screamed at him over these things, the smirk on his face would only grow deeper. He loved watching me choke on jealousy. It was as if my pain was the only metric he used to measure my love. And his response was always exactly the same. “Sundra, Lily and I just have a professional relationship. Stop being so pathetic and petty.” Day after day, ground down by this endless torture, I gave him exactly what he wanted. I stopped being petty. I was even ready to hand over my title as his wife. After wrapping my feet in bandages, I pulled out a suitcase and began packing what little clothing I had left. Just as I was zipping up the bag, Chris walked in. He reeked of expensive whiskey, his arm slung heavily over Lily’s shoulder. The moment he saw me, he instinctively dropped his arm and opened his mouth to explain. But then his eyes landed on the suitcase beside my leg, and his pupils dilated in shock. At the exact same time, his inner voice roared. [Wife, why are you packing? Are you seriously throwing me away?] [I messed up. I shouldn’t have brought Lily to the family dinner. I just wanted to make you jealous.] [Don’t leave. I absolutely forbid you from leaving!] His face was ghostly pale. His mind was screaming with endless, desperate love, but the words that left his lips were colder than ice. “Sundra, I suggest you think very carefully about what you are doing. If you walk out that door, there are a million women lining up to marry me. But if you leave me, who the hell is going to marry damaged goods like you?” His arrogant, condescending tone blew away the very last speck of hope in my soul. I gave him a tired smile. “Okay. Then go find those other women.” Chris’s hands balled into tight fists. Suddenly, right in front of my face, he wrapped his arm around Lily’s waist and pulled her flush against his chest. “Maybe I will just marry Lily then.” “She is sweet, gentle, and way more competent than you. More importantly, unlike you, she actually has a working body. Six years and your stomach is still completely flat. She has plenty of time to give me an heir.” His provocative words made my breath shudder. Everyone knew children were my ultimate forbidden topic. Six years ago, Chris suffered a massive mental breakdown and ran off into a blizzard. While searching for him, I fell through the ice of a frozen lake. The damage to my body was permanent. Getting pregnant became an impossible dream. But I still wanted a baby. Desperately. To get pregnant, I drank horrible herbal brews every single night. I went through five agonizing rounds of IVF. Chris knew this better than anyone on earth, yet he still chose to use a child as a weapon to gut me. My eyes burned with tears. “Chris, you are a monster.” Seeing my tears, a flash of panic crossed Chris’s eyes. He took a subconscious step forward. But Lily suddenly clamped her hands onto his arm, pressing her chest against him. Her voice was sickeningly sweet. “But Sundra, Chris is just stating facts, right?” “It has been six years, and you haven’t produced a single thing.” “Any other man would have kicked you to the curb years ago. Chris put up with it for six whole years!” “He hasn’t even said he is tired of you yet, and here you are throwing around the word divorce and packing your bags. Aren’t you being a little too selfish? You have zero appreciation for how much Chris tolerates you.” Chris froze in his tracks. The panic in his eyes was rapidly replaced by a chilling detachment. He agreed with Lily. He actually thought I was being selfish and ungrateful. “Sundra, it seems I really have been too nice to you.” His gaze swept over my suitcase. Before I could even react, he lunged forward, violently snatching the bag from my grip. He yanked it so hard the zipper busted open. My clothes scattered all over the hardwood floor. He stepped directly onto my clean shirts with his leather shoes. Then, with terrifying precision, he reached into the bottom of the broken suitcase and pulled out a velvet box. Inside was a vintage emerald bracelet. It was my late mother’s heirloom. He looked down at me from his towering height. “Sundra, do I need to remind you? I spent five million dollars getting this bracelet back from the auction house.” All the blood drained from my face. 4 When my family went bankrupt, my mother had to sell her only family heirloom to pay off debts. When she passed away, getting that emerald bracelet back became her dying wish. When Chris found out, he pulled every string he had and spent a massive fortune to win it back for me. Back then, I cried so hard I couldn’t breathe. I told him I had no idea how I could ever repay him. His voice was calm, but his eyes were overflowing with pure devotion. “Then just pay me back with yourself.” “Sundra, I want to marry you.” Using that emerald bracelet in place of a ring, he slipped my mother’s legacy onto my wrist. And now, he looked at me and said, “The only reason I gave this to you was because I was going to marry you. Now you want a divorce. You are no longer going to be my wife, so what right do you have to take it with you?” “You don’t seriously think a woman like you is worth five million dollars, do you?” His brutal words smashed my pride into a million jagged pieces. I swallowed the heavy, agonizing lump in my throat. “Five million. I will find a way to get the money and pay you back…” “I don’t need your money!” Chris roared, cutting me off. “Sundra, do you think I give a damn about the money?” “…You are the one who is throwing this family away. You are throwing everything away. So I am going to save this bracelet for a woman who actually wants to be my wife.” He grabbed Lily’s wrist and brutally shoved the emerald bracelet onto her arm. Just like he did when he asked me to marry him six years ago. Lily turned her head slightly. Where Chris couldn’t see, she looked me dead in the eye and mouthed the words: [Dead people’s jewelry. Gross.] A violent surge of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I lunged forward, desperately clawing at her arm to get it back. “If you think it’s gross, then give it back to me!” The second my fingers grazed Lily’s skin, she let out an ear-piercing shriek and threw herself backward onto the marble tiles. Her wrist slammed against the hard floor. The fragile, century-old emerald hit the stone and shattered into several jagged pieces. My mind went completely blank. Chris froze, just as stunned. Lily held up her slightly scraped arm, sobbing hysterically. “Chris… it hurts so much…” Chris snapped out of his daze and violently shoved me backward. “Sundra, you are insane! That was your mother’s dying wish, and you destroyed it just because you wanted to hurt Lily!” I crashed heavily onto the floor. The violent impact sent a bizarre, sharp cramp tearing through my lower abdomen. Trembling, I fought through the pain to explain. “I didn’t push her. Lily threw herself backward on purpose to break the bracelet…” “Shut up!” The veins in Chris’s neck bulged. “You act like a lunatic, and then you try to frame Lily. If you hadn’t attacked her like a rabid dog, the bracelet wouldn’t be…” A flash of pure terror crossed his eyes. At the same moment, his thoughts crashed into my head. [What do I do? The only thing my wife cared about is broken.] [I don’t have a single way to make her stay anymore.] [No… I refuse to just stand here and watch my wife walk away.] Before I could process his thoughts, Chris grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me off the floor. I was completely disoriented. He hauled me down the hall and violently shoved me into the dark, windowless wine cellar. “You hurt Lily, and you are clearly out of your mind. You are going to stay locked in here for a day until you calm down.” The cramping in my stomach suddenly escalated into an excruciating, twisting agony. I felt a warm stream of blood seeping between my thighs. Pure, unadulterated panic swallowed me whole.

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When I opened my eyes and realized I had been reborn right before the start of spring break, the very first thing I did was decisively quit the research lab I had poured years of my life into. Because I knew exactly what was coming. In just a few days, Wyatt, the golden boy junior researcher, would flagrantly violate safety protocols and cross-contaminate our most critical biological samples. In my past life, out of the goodness of my heart, I rushed back to the lab to clean up his mess and painstakingly rerun the control experiments. Against all odds, I successfully saved the multi-million dollar federal project. But when the oversight board came looking for someone to blame, Wyatt completely twisted the truth and framed me. “It was Nathan! He was messing with the calibration on the equipment and almost destroyed all of our experimental results!” Professor Sylvia and the rest of the lab swallowed his lies without a second thought, condemning me on the spot. I had absolutely nowhere to turn. My hard-earned reputation was violently shredded, and I became an academic outcast hunted by public outrage. Every ounce of blood, sweat, and tears I had poured into my entire life evaporated into thin air. Driven into a state of absolute mental collapse, I lost my footing on the roof of the science building and plunged to my death. Now that the universe has given me a second chance, I am cutting the cord. I am walking away from their toxic, venomous web before it can drag me under again. 1 When I handed the transfer request to Professor Sylvia, her beautifully shaped eyebrows twitched in surprise. “Nathan,” she said, her tone dripping with disbelief. “Do you have any idea what you are doing?” My expression didn’t change. I was as calm as a frozen lake. “I do. This is a decision I made after very careful consideration.” Sylvia looked me up and down, a mocking smirk curling her lips. “This is about Wyatt, isn’t it?” I blinked, genuinely confused for a second. Sylvia leaned back in her plush leather chair and sighed as if she were dealing with a petulant child. “Wyatt joined the lab after you did. I know that. But his natural talent for research is miles ahead of yours, and frankly, he is much better at working with people.” “You are just jealous of him, and that’s why you are throwing this little tantrum and trying to leave.” Hearing her absurd accusation, I didn’t even get mad. I just gave a tired, dry chuckle. The core bottlenecks of this project? The agonizingly complex control experiments? I was the one who stayed up for five straight days, fueled entirely by black coffee and sheer willpower, to crack them. I was the first to admit I wasn’t some once-in-a-generation genius. But Wyatt? Please. Both my actual talent and my insane dedication to this lab were lightyears beyond anything he could ever manage. The only thing Wyatt excelled at was playing the charming golden boy. He knew exactly how to suck up to people, and both the other lab members and our professor absolutely adored him. Every single time I broke my back compiling flawless data sets or designing a brilliant new testing protocol, Wyatt would swoop in, slap his name on it, and take all the credit. It wasn’t like I had never fought back. But whenever I did, Wyatt would just widen his eyes and play the innocent victim. And Sylvia would immediately turn on me, her voice sharp with disappointment. “Nathan, why do you always have to be so glory-hungry?” “Are you really not going to be satisfied until you steal every single ounce of credit for yourself?” Because of that, I stopped defending myself. I just became quieter, swallowing the injustice to keep the peace. It took dying once for me to finally wake up. They didn’t believe me because they had already decided I was the villain from day one. So no matter how loudly I screamed the truth, it was totally useless. “Yep, you are totally right. You nailed it,” I said, leaning against her desk and shrugging indifferently. Seeing that I was totally unfazed by her scolding, Sylvia sneered. She grabbed her expensive fountain pen, slashed her signature across the transfer form, and slammed her official stamp onto the paper. As I turned to leave, she called out to me, her tone condescending. “Nathan, since I have been your mentor for so long, I will give you one last bit of grace.” “I will give you exactly three days. If you realize what a massive mistake you are making, you can come back and withdraw this application.” “I won’t,” I replied without a second of hesitation. Right at that moment, a head popped through the doorway. It was Wyatt. His eyes were gleaming with obvious excitement, but he immediately forced his face into a mask of tragic heartbreak. “Oh no, Nathan! Why are you leaving? Did I do something to upset you?” I completely ignored him. I reached into my leather satchel and pulled out a thick stack of manila folders, my fingers lightly brushing over the heavy paper. This massive, state-of-the-art laboratory was currently housing a top-tier, federally funded research initiative. Sylvia had basically bet her entire academic reputation and pulled every shady string she had to secure this grant. If this project went down in flames, every single person in this lab would watch their academic careers turn to ash. Their evaluations, their funding, their chances at top Ph.D. programs—gone. But the person who would suffer the most was the lead researcher: Sylvia herself. If the project crashed, the federal oversight committee would descend like vultures. Not only would she be stripped of her research credentials for life, but there was a massive chance she would end up behind bars for academic fraud and gross negligence. In my past life, I knew exactly how devastating the fallout would be. I knew no one in the lab could survive it. So, like an absolute fool, I sacrificed my hard-earned vacation and rushed back to fix the mess. I stayed awake for nearly a week straight, violently dragging the doomed project back from the brink of total annihilation. And my reward? They completely destroyed my reputation and drove me to my death. Now that I had a second chance, I would rather die again than lift a single finger to save these vultures. Wyatt had already walked up to me, still yapping about how sad he was. I kept ignoring him. I kept my face dead blank as I meticulously laid the folders out on Sylvia’s desk. Inside those folders was every single piece of experimental data I had handled over the past few years. The raw data. The backup footage. The logbooks. Every single page was clearly dated and signed by the person who actually performed the work. Wyatt stared at the folders, looking a bit confused. He didn’t have high-level clearance. He wasn’t even qualified to turn on half the multi-million-dollar machines in this room. I was the only one who had executed the high-risk protocol runs. I had spent weeks carefully backing up and categorizing every piece of proof. Every number, every signature, every single comma in those files was ironclad evidence. It was my ultimate insurance policy. 2 “Professor,” I said, tapping my finger on the top document—the official data handover receipt. “Please review everything. Once you confirm the files are complete, unaltered, and fully accounted for, sign the receipt for the official record.” This piece of paper was my shield. It proved that my exit from the lab was one hundred percent compliant with federal regulations. Clear boundaries. Clear accountability. Once I walked out that door, if this lab exploded or a single sample was compromised, it would have absolutely nothing to do with me. They would never be able to dump their dirty water on my head again. Sylvia looked down at the exhaustively detailed logs. Her brows furrowed, and a strange, uneasy look flickered in her eyes. Beside her, Wyatt’s fake smile stiffened. A cold prickle of anxiety suddenly crawled up his spine. Sylvia hesitated for a long time. Finally, she picked up her pen, signed her full name on the handover receipt, pressed her thumbprint over the ink, and stamped both copies. “Fine. Since you are so damn stubborn, I agree. It is better to have the liability lines clearly drawn anyway.” I let out a breath I didn’t realize I had been holding. I picked up my copy of the receipt, carefully sliding it into a protective sleeve in my bag. With my insurance secured, I dropped the polite facade. I turned to walk away, my tone freezing cold. “Good. From this second forward, I have absolutely nothing to do with any of you.” Wyatt finally snapped out of his daze and reached out, grabbing my forearm. “Nathan, you are being so impulsive!” “Aren’t you happy? Haven’t you been trying to get rid of me this whole time?” I violently ripped my arm out of his grip. Wyatt’s smile vanished. His face flushed with anger, and he glared at me with pure venom. Then, he quickly turned to Sylvia, lifting his chin with a look of overwhelming arrogance. “Don’t worry, Professor. We will be fine without Nathan. From now on, I will personally shoulder the responsibility of pushing the project forward.” He puffed out his chest, trying to look like the brilliant hero stepping up to save the day. Deep down, Wyatt was absolutely thrilled that I was leaving. It meant my spot was empty. It meant that every single future breakthrough and all the project glory would land directly in his lap. I actually laughed out loud. Sylvia was always busy attending conferences and rubbing shoulders with donors. I was the one who had practically spoon-fed Wyatt every ounce of knowledge he had in this lab. Did this idiot honestly believe he could run the project on his own? Sylvia nodded, looking incredibly touched. “Good. I am glad you have that kind of dedication. Try not to be like some people who run away the second things get a little difficult.” She threw a disgusted glance in my direction. In her eyes, I was as boring and tasteless as a glass of lukewarm water. I was nowhere near as clever or charming as Wyatt. She had always hated looking at me, so my voluntary exit was a total blessing for her. I took in both of their reactions and just smiled. Yep. That was exactly what this team was. They were so blinded by Wyatt’s sweet, innocent act that they were completely blind to the fact that I was the one keeping this lab from collapsing. If I even tried to defend myself, they would call me selfish. I was done wasting my breath on them. I shoved past Wyatt and walked out the door. As I walked down the hall, a few other lab members saw me carrying my things. They laughed and waved. “Wow, Nathan, you are actually bailing?” “Yeah, the project is basically in the final stages. Don’t you think it’s a massive waste to run away now?” “Are you just throwing a tantrum because the Professor likes the new kid more than you?” I focused entirely on packing up the rest of my desk, refusing to even look at them. In my past life, these exact people had enthusiastically helped push me off the ledge. But the twisted part was, before Wyatt joined the lab, these guys had genuinely looked out for me. Maybe it was because I was the youngest guy in the room at the time, but they used to treat me like a little brother. But slowly, over time, everything turned toxic. Once my box was packed, I grabbed it and headed for the exit. The moment my foot crossed the threshold of the building, a massive, suffocating weight vanished from my chest. I felt like I could finally breathe. But I didn’t even make it across the courtyard before two armed campus security officers stepped into my path. “Hold it right there!” I frowned, genuinely confused. But a second later, I knew exactly what was going on. 3 Wyatt strolled out from behind the officers, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face. “Nathan, you know this is a federally funded, highly classified project. The security protocols are extremely strict.” He paused, letting his eyes drop pointedly to the cardboard box in my arms. Then, he dramatically raised his voice, ensuring that every researcher and student walking through the courtyard stopped to watch. “Nathan, you are leaving so suddenly. I am just really worried you might accidentally take some classified documents with you. Please cooperate with security and let them search your things.” He didn’t even try to sugarcoat it. He was dragging me out into the town square and lighting the fire under my feet. He was publicly accusing me of corporate espionage. My grip on the cardboard box tightened, my eyes turning to ice. “There were at least a dozen people watching me pack my desk. I didn’t have the opportunity to steal a single paperclip, let alone classified data.” I swept my gaze over the crowd of my former lab mates standing nearby. Every single one of them immediately looked away, completely silent. I didn’t get mad. I already knew these cowards wouldn’t say a word to defend me. I looked up and saw Sylvia hurrying over, drawn by the commotion. “Professor,” I called out loudly. “Twenty minutes ago, while sitting directly in front of you, I completed a full handover of every single piece of data and equipment I was responsible for.” “The raw data logs and the federal compliance records were perfectly accounted for. You personally signed and stamped the receipt confirming I left nothing behind and took nothing with me.” “And now, with absolutely zero evidence, you are demanding a public search of my personal belongings? I have every right to believe this is targeted harassment.” My mind was working at lightning speed. Since I had already died once because of this lab, I took federal security protocols more seriously than God himself. I had to ensure my reputation remained absolutely spotless. I couldn’t give them a single thread to pull. If I simply bowed my head and let them humiliate me by ripping through my private belongings in the middle of a crowd, the rumor mill would destroy my career regardless of what they found. Sylvia choked on her words. Her face hardened into an ugly scowl. “Enough, Nathan! Your junior colleague has reasonable suspicions. What is the big deal if you just cooperate?” I stared at Wyatt for a long time. Seeing the smug, untouchable arrogance radiating from his eyes, I let out a sharp laugh. “Wyatt does not have security clearance to authorize an audit. Ordering armed guards to detain a researcher who has already completed a legally binding handover is a massive abuse of power and targeted harassment.” The moment I said that, the crowd’s energy shifted. People started looking at Wyatt differently. Wyatt’s face turned bright red. He waved his hands frantically, playing the victim. “Nathan, no! I swear I didn’t mean it like that! I was just terrified something bad would happen! I only did it because I care so much about the project…” I was completely exhausted by his pathetic acting. I took a step forward, holding my box out toward the head security officer. “I will comply with the search. But I have two demands.” “First, the entire search must be recorded on bodycam. Second, when you inevitably find absolutely zero classified material in my possession, you are required to report this incident directly to the Federal Security Bureau and the University’s Academic Integrity Board.” Wyatt froze completely, sheer panic flashing across his eyes. I looked up, making sure the entire crowd heard me loud and clear. “If we really care about preventing data leaks, the board should be investigating the lab’s internal handover procedures and security authorization logs. Not digging through my gym clothes.” Wyatt was just a junior researcher with basic clearance. For him to illegally summon armed guards to detain a colleague was a massive breach of protocol. The only reason the guards actually listened to him was because he had clearly invoked Sylvia’s name to give his orders weight. But if this actually went to the federal board, things would get extremely ugly. There was no physical way Wyatt could have secured an official written mandate from Sylvia in the ten minutes since I left her office. Which meant Wyatt had flagrantly impersonated a lead researcher and abused federal security resources. And me? I had officially surrendered my clearance and handed over all materials twenty minutes ago. Legally, I was totally untouchable. If this got kicked up to the feds, Wyatt would be absolutely butchered. He might even get permanently expelled and blacklisted. 4 The crowd’s whispers grew louder, the stares aimed at Wyatt turning incredibly suspicious. Some people actually started speaking up for me. “Honestly, Nathan doesn’t seem like the type to steal classified data.” “Yeah. If his handover paperwork is legally sound, what the hell are they even suspecting him of?” “Why is this Wyatt kid going after Nathan so hard? Does he actually have proof, or is this just malicious bullying?” All the color drained from Wyatt’s face. He looked like a ghost. He shot a desperate, terrified look at Sylvia. “Professor, I swear I didn’t mean anything malicious! I was just trying to protect…” He was still trying to play the innocent card, but I wasn’t going to let him. Before Sylvia could open her mouth to yell at me again, I placed my cardboard box squarely on the concrete. Right in front of dozens of people, I pulled my things out one by one and handed them to the armed officers. A water bottle. A gym towel. A few extra T-shirts. My electric razor. It was just a pathetic pile of totally normal, boring things. After about ten minutes of thorough searching, the officers looked at each other and shook their heads. The lead officer turned to me, looking deeply embarrassed. “I apologize. Wyatt told us Professor Sylvia had declared a code-red emergency.” “We reacted to the perceived threat without waiting for the official authorization paperwork. That was our failure.” He gave me a stiff, respectful nod. I nodded back. Then, the officer turned slowly to face Wyatt. His voice was like a block of ice. “We have completed the search. Per protocol, we will now be escalating this incident to the Federal Security Bureau exactly as Nathan requested.” The courtyard went dead silent. Hundreds of eyes locked onto Wyatt. It was painfully obvious to everyone now. This wasn’t about security. This was a targeted, malicious hit job. Wyatt’s face burned a humiliating crimson. The look he shot me was so full of venom it was practically glowing. Sylvia looked absolutely humiliated. She glared at me like she wanted me dead, then turned on her heel and stormed away. I packed my boring things back into the box, picked it up, and didn’t spare Wyatt a second glance as I walked away. Everyone in that courtyard thought I was throwing my life away by quitting the lab. They all thought I was destined to fail, that I would never land a decent research project again. They were eagerly waiting to watch me burn. Later that night, Wyatt actually had the nerve to tag me in the massive university group chat. “Nathan, if you ever struggle to find work, just let me know.” “Since we used to be in the same lab, I wouldn’t mind doing you a favor and helping you out.” I raised an eyebrow and let my thumbs fly across the keyboard. “You should probably focus on surviving the federal disciplinary hearing for impersonating a lead researcher and abusing armed security first.” I hit send. The massive group chat instantly died. Half the people in there had no idea what went down in the courtyard. I wasn’t in a rush to explain. A second later, Wyatt’s private messages flooded my screen. He was completely unhinged. “What the hell are you so arrogant about?! As long as Sylvia has my back, nothing is going to happen to me!” “You are just a pathetic loser running away with your tail between your legs! You have absolutely no right to talk down to me!” “Look at how miserable your life is. Even though I joined the lab after you, the second I say you are bullying me, every single person takes my side.” I lowered my eyes, staring at the screen. I honestly couldn’t comprehend why he hated me so much. When he first joined, I did everything in my power to take care of him. We were the only two guys our age in Sylvia’s entire lab. I thought we were a team. I practically held his hand through his first six months. Wyatt clearly sensed my silence, and another message popped up. “Nathan, I absolutely despise that stupid, calm look on your face. I hate how you act like nothing bothers you.” “More importantly, I demand that all the attention in the room be on me. I am supposed to be the golden boy. You were just in my way.” I didn’t reply. I just locked my phone. A strange sense of peace washed over me. So that was it. I didn’t waste another second thinking about him. Since I suddenly had a ton of free time, I booked a flight to Bali for a mini-vacation. Halfway through my trip, I logged into the university portal and saw a massive, campus-wide disciplinary notice. [Wyatt violated federal security protocols. He bypassed the authorization board, invoked a lead researcher’s name to illegally deploy armed security, and maliciously defamed a colleague in public.] Wyatt was stripped of all academic awards and stipends for the current year and the next two years. He was also ordered to submit a ten-thousand-word public apology letter. The moment the notice hit the server, the entire university went into an uproar. I smiled, taking a slow sip of my cocktail while staring at the crystal blue ocean. I let out a long, satisfied breath. Just then, my phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered it. “Nathan, hello. This is Professor Evelyn.” “I have spent the last few days reviewing your publication history and raw data logs. Your work is absolutely brilliant.” “My lab is currently desperate for someone with your specific skillset to lead our core experimental division. Would you be interested in joining us?” My heart slammed against my ribs. Professor Evelyn was an absolute god in our field. Her lab was the undeniable gold standard across the entire country. I had never, in my wildest dreams, imagined that someone of her caliber would personally extend an olive branch to me. In my past life, I was so blinded by my stupid loyalty to Sylvia’s toxic lab that I completely missed out on opportunities like this. I fought to keep my voice steady. “Thank you so much for the opportunity, Professor Evelyn. I would be incredibly honored to join your team.” But before I could even finish celebrating, my phone started ringing again. It was Wyatt. His voice was completely frantic, bordering on hysterical. “Nathan! Something went wrong! You have to come back to the lab right now!”

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Three years after being institutionalized, my psychiatrist husband Chad finally brought me home—only to find Mary and their son living there. “When are you telling her about the divorce?” Mary asked. “Not yet. I don’t want to trigger a relapse,” Chad muttered, avoiding my gaze as he hugged her. Hidden in the hall, I listened until numbness set in. Entering the master bedroom, I found unfamiliar furniture and a huge family portrait above the bed. A bitter laugh escaped me. From beneath the overturned oak wardrobe came faint whimpers. A tiny, bloodied hand clawed through the gap. I threw my weight against the wardrobe, but it wouldn’t move. “Chad! Your son’s trapped!” I screamed, grabbing his arm. Mary shoved me back, eyes blazing. “My son’s safely locked in the playroom! Stay away from him!” She slammed the bedroom door shut, locking it. Chad sighed, offering two small white pills. “Take these, Harper. They’ll stop the hallucinations.” Staring at the pills, cold confusion washed over me. Was the blood real? Was I imagining everything? “I just hope you don’t regret this,” I whispered. 1 “Chad! I told you not to bring this psycho back into our house!” Mary was screaming hysterically, violently smashing vases and picture frames across the living room floor. “Are you trying to drive our entire family insane?!” My eyes were totally empty as I stood on the second-floor landing, staring down at Chad’s exhausted profile. He lowered his voice, trying to soothe her. “Mary, please stop. Harper has nowhere else to go. This is technically her house too.” Mary let out a shrill, mocking laugh. “This is the home of our family of three!” “Did you forget how she grabbed a knife and plunged it into her own stomach, butchering her own baby?!” “Harper is a complete lunatic! If you let her stay, she is going to murder our son one day!” I froze. My hands curled into tight fists, my fingernails biting so deeply into my palms that they broke the skin. Baby? My baby… A violent surge of adrenaline exploded in my chest. I rushed down the stairs, lunged forward, and slapped Mary entirely across the face. I glared at her, my eyes filled with absolute, murderous rage. “Ahhhh!!!” “Harper, you psycho! Are you trying to kill me?!” Mary clutched her swelling, bright red cheek and scrambled behind Chad, cowering like a terrified animal. “It was you.” I stared dead into Mary’s eyes. “It was you. You were the one who drove that knife into my stomach!” I whipped my head toward Chad. “You saw it too! Didn’t you?!” The air in the room froze solid. Both Chad and Mary completely stiffened. A second later, Mary’s face twisted into an ugly, panicked snarl, like a cat whose tail had just been stomped on. “You hear that?! She isn’t cured at all! She is exactly the same crazy b*tch she was three years ago!” Mary pointed a shaking finger directly at my face. “You are a monster! You butchered your own child, and now you are trying to frame me for it!” My emotions spiraled entirely out of control. I screamed back at her, my voice raw and tearing. “I didn’t! I never hurt my baby!” That tiny life I had never even gotten to meet. The baby I still dreamed about every single night. Mary had taken a knife and butchered it while I watched. All the blood drained from Mary’s face, but then it flushed crimson with anger. “Chad, look at her! She is having another psychotic break! I told you she wasn’t fixed!” “If you let her stay in this house, I am packing up our son and leaving!” Chad wrapped his arms tightly around Mary, gently rubbing her back to calm her down. Then, he turned and looked at me. His brow furrowed deeply, his eyes swirling with a complicated mix of pity and exhaustion. “Harper, you suffered a severe dissociative psychotic episode that day. You were the one who…” He reached into his pocket, pulled out two fresh pills, and gently patted the top of my head like I was a sick dog. “Just take the medicine. It’s all in the past now.” “Don’t blame yourself. You were sick. But you definitely can’t blame Mary either.” I started to laugh. I laughed so hard that tears spilled over my eyelashes and burned my cheeks. I looked at the pills in his palm and pushed his hand away. “You literally gave me my medication five minutes ago.” I wasn’t crazy. I remembered that day with absolute, terrifying clarity. Mary, Chad’s clinical assistant, had gripped the handle of that knife. She had stroked her own flat stomach, looking down at me with a sickening, triumphant smirk. “I’m pregnant with Chad’s baby.” 2 “Harper, you must be exhausted. I had a room set up for you.” Chad guided me down the hall and pushed open the door to a tiny guest room. “I didn’t touch any of your things. Everything is right here.” He looked at me, his expression suddenly stern. “You need to behave. If you cause trouble, I will have no choice but to send you back to the ward.” Without waiting for a response, he quickly stepped out of the room and closed the door. He was probably rushing back downstairs to comfort Mary. I looked around the tiny space. It used to be a storage closet. It was so small it could barely fit a twin bed, and there wasn’t a single window to let the sunlight in. All of my belongings were shoved into a single, massive cardboard box in the corner. It was taped shut so tightly it looked like a coffin. I ripped the tape open. Inside were all the things I had bought when I was pregnant. Parenting books. Fairy tale collections. The tiny onesies and little shoes Chad and I had picked out together. And right at the bottom, tossed aside and buried under a thick layer of dust, was our framed wedding photo. Tears fell off my chin, splashing onto the glass and blurring our smiling faces. Through my tears, I couldn’t stop laughing. Chad. We weren’t even officially divorced yet, but you were already living with another woman like husband and wife. You even raised a son with her. Were me and my dead baby just a sick joke to you? I carried a genetic predisposition for severe mental illness. When I was in college, the psychological torment became too much for my mother, and she took her own life. It was Chad who grabbed my hand and pulled me out of that suffocating darkness. He literally changed his major and studied psychiatry specifically to save me. He promised he would stay by my side forever. He promised he would protect me from ever having an episode. And he promised that even if I did get sick, he wouldn’t be afraid. He would cure me. We fell in love. We got married. And then, I got pregnant. During my pregnancy, my hormones wrecked my emotional stability. I started experiencing minor, terrifying auditory and visual hallucinations. Chad’s private practice was booming, and he couldn’t stay home with me. So, he brought his clinical assistant, Mary, to live in our house and take care of me. Slowly, I started noticing things. The lingering glances. The flirty, hushed conversations. The undeniable, sickening intimacy between them. The heavy psychiatric medication Chad prescribed made me chronically drowsy. But one night, I woke up early. I walked out to the living room and saw Mary sitting squarely on Chad’s lap. Her arms were wrapped around his neck, and she was giggling uncontrollably. “What the hell are you doing?!” Chad scrambled up, terrified. He rushed over and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Harper, relax! Mary was just giving me a clinical update. Don’t let your paranoia take over.” “There is a hickey on her collarbone.” He pinched my cheek, offering a helpless, patient smile. “You silly girl. You are hallucinating again.” I violently shoved him away, my emotions spiraling. “Chad, I am looking right at you! You are constantly holding her, constantly flirting with her! Do you think I am completely blind?!” A cold needle pierced my arm as Mary pushed a heavy sedative into my vein. Her voice was sickeningly soft. “Harper, Dr. Montgomery and I are just colleagues.” My tongue felt thick. “Really?” “Yes. Just close your eyes and go to sleep. You will feel better when you wake up.” After that night, my “symptoms” escalated rapidly. I saw Mary dumping white powder into my nightly glass of milk. Chad swore it was just a prenatal calcium supplement. I heard a baby crying in the empty nursery in the middle of the night. Chad told me it was just the neighbor’s cat in the alley. And then came the night I supposedly grabbed a kitchen knife, walked into Mary’s bedroom, and nearly plunged it into her heart. “Harper, you were sleepwalking again.” Chad was carefully bandaging a deep cut on my hand, his eyes incredibly tired. “Last night, you stood over Mary’s bed holding a butcher knife. You absolutely terrified her.” “Your condition is deteriorating rapidly.” He gently stroked my hair. “We need to increase your dosage, okay?” I stared into his bloodshot eyes, suddenly unable to tell who was actually sick. Was it me? Or was the entire world losing its mind? The agonizing inability to separate reality from hallucination absolutely shattered me. I started self-harming. I took razor blades and sliced into my own arms, just to feel something real. Because the physical pain was so much easier to process than the psychological torture. Chad started looking at me with undisguised exhaustion. Until the day Mary walked into the living room and explicitly told me she was pregnant with Chad’s baby. My eyes were totally hollow. I backed away, whispering frantically. “No. No, it isn’t real. You are a hallucination. Get away from me!” Mary stepped forward, backing me into a corner. Her cold, venomous voice drilled directly into my skull. “Chad stopped loving you a long time ago.” “Look at yourself, Harper. Your hair is falling out. You look like a corpse. You are constantly screaming about conspiracies. What kind of man could possibly tolerate a freak like you?” “You should do everyone a favor and kill yourself, just like your crazy mother did!” Every single word she said precisely snapped the fragile, terrified strings holding my sanity together. I lunged forward, desperate to tear her face off. Mary smiled a triumphant, evil smile. She violently shoved the handle of a kitchen knife into my hand. Before I could process what was happening, she forced my own hand backward. The blade tore through my skin, sinking deep into my pregnant belly. Hot, thick blood poured out of me, soaking my clothes. The physical connection between a mother and child is absolute. The agony ripped my soul apart. I looked toward the crack in the study door. I saw a pair of eyes watching me. I begged for help. The excruciating pain swallowed me whole. My knees buckled, and the world violently spun out of control. Through the haze, I swear I saw my baby grow tiny wings, crying softly as it floated up toward the ceiling. Mary started screaming at the top of her lungs. “Harper, no! Stop hurting yourself! Your baby is in there!” “Harper!” Chad threw open the study door and sprinted into the room. He scooped my bleeding body into his arms, a look of pure, horrified devastation on his face. Mary dropped to her knees, sobbing hysterically. “Chad, I tried to stop her! She just grabbed the knife and stabbed herself…” “She… she has completely lost her mind.” When I finally woke up, I was strapped to a bed in a psychiatric ward. My stomach was totally flat. That “treatment” lasted for three excruciating years. 3 “Bang!” Just as my fingers brushed against a rusted key inside the cardboard box, the door to my tiny room was violently kicked open. Mary lunged inside. She grabbed a fistful of my hair and brutally dragged me out of the room and toward the stairs. “Harper, you psychotic b*tch! How dare you hurt my son?!” A tearing agony ripped across my scalp. I lost one of my slippers, my bare foot violently slamming against the wooden stairs, leaving dark purple bruises across my skin. Chad was sitting in the living room, reviewing patient files. Hearing the screaming, he snapped his head up. His face went totally pale. “Mary! What the hell are you doing?!” Mary threw me onto the hardwood floor and shoved her phone directly into Chad’s face. “Look! Look at what this psycho did to our son!” On the screen was a photo of a terrified little boy. There was a glaring, red handprint across his cheek, and his tiny arms and legs were covered in jagged, bloody scratches. Chad sucked in a sharp breath. He slowly turned his head to look at me, his face turning black with fury. “It wasn’t me!” I pushed myself up onto my elbows, desperate. “I swear! I just saw a child pinned under the wardrobe! His little hand was reaching out, trying to scratch at the wood. His fingernails were completely peeled off…” “Stop lying!” Mary shrieked. “You disgusting freak! You smashed the lock, broke into his playroom, and tortured my son!” “I am going to kill you!” Mary raised her hand and slapped me across the face again. This time, Chad didn’t even try to stop her. My cheek burned like fire. A high-pitched ringing echoed in my ears. “Harper! I bring you back to this house out of pity, and you are trying to drive us all insane?!” The very last trace of warmth in Chad’s eyes completely vanished. Mary collapsed against the sofa, sobbing violently. “Chad, this time she just tortured him. What about next time?” “Next time, she is going to murder all three of us in our sleep!” “This is exactly what psychopaths do! You are a doctor, you know this better than anyone!” Chad closed his eyes, taking a long, deep breath. When he opened them again, there was nothing left but overwhelming disgust and total exhaustion. “You need to go back to the hospital. You can’t stay here.” “I am telling you the truth!” I lunged forward and grabbed his forearm. “Go upstairs and look in the master bedroom! Go look under the wardrobe! That poor baby…” “Enough!” Chad violently threw my arm off of him. The force sent me crashing backward into the glass coffee table. The table shattered into pieces. Jagged shards of glass sliced into the palms of my hands. Thick drops of blood fell onto the floor. Drip. Drip. “I am done.” Chad stared at my bleeding hands. A microscopic flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but it was immediately swallowed by sheer exhaustion. “You are never going to get better. And I… I am so incredibly tired, Harper.” His voice dropped to a cold, dead whisper. “Maybe the path your mother took is the only way you will ever find peace.” Boom. It felt like a bomb went off inside my skull. All the blood drained from my face. It felt like every single bone in my body had just been crushed into powder. Then, like a complete lunatic, I started to laugh. “You don’t have to call them. I will leave myself.” The man who promised to spend the rest of his life protecting me, the man who swore he would never let me end up like my mother—he was dead. No. He had been dead for years. I was just too pathetic to realize it. I dragged myself off the floor, walked back to the tiny storage room, and picked up the rusted key. It was the key to my late mother’s apartment. I wasn’t completely homeless, despite what Chad wanted to believe. Then, I reached into the box, pulled out the yellowing divorce agreement Chad had drafted a year ago, and signed my name. I dragged the final stroke of the pen out long and hard, severing every last tie to my past. When I walked back downstairs, Chad was standing at the bottom of the steps, watching me. We stared at each other in total, suffocating silence. Neither of us said a word. Outside, a taxi honked its horn impatiently. It was time to go. As I walked out the front door, he followed me all the way to the cab. “Harper…” Chad’s eyes were a chaotic storm of emotion. Conflict. Guilt. Exhaustion. “I can drive you.” “No.” I turned around and took one final look at the house we had shared for years. A single tear slipped down my cheek. “Here is the key to your house. And the divorce papers are signed.” “From this second forward, we owe each other absolutely nothing.” Chad stared at the key and the papers in my hand. He didn’t take them. His voice was thick and raspy. “Just focus on getting your treatment. Once you are stabilized, we can talk about the divorce.” “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid. Just go back to the ward and let them help you.” In that exact moment, a strange, suffocating sense of panic suddenly gripped Chad’s chest. “I am done with treatment.” I smiled softly. “If I am crazy, then I am crazy.” “But you really should go check on the kid pinned under the wardrobe in the master bedroom.” “I know the hospital director told you I was stabilized, but consider it peace of mind.” Chad’s entire body went rigid. The panic in his chest spiked, and he instinctively looked up toward the window of the master bedroom. I turned around, opened the door of the cab, and slid into the back seat. As the car slowly pulled away from the curb and merged into traffic, I didn’t look back once. “Ahhhhhhh!!!!!” An agonizing, blood-curdling scream erupted from the second floor of the house. Mary burst through the doors onto the second-floor balcony, stumbling and collapsing against the railing. Clutched in her arms was the crushed, lifeless, brutally mangled body of a small child. “My baby… my baby… she murdered our baby!!!” “Chad! Stop her! Harper is a murderer!”

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1 I built an empire from the ground up right alongside Henry. But just weeks before our wedding, he looked me in the eyes and confessed he had fallen in love with my younger sister. I agreed to break off the engagement, but on one condition: he had to help me seduce his biggest corporate rival, Collin Sterling. “Are you insane? You spent ten years chasing me, and now you are pulling this stunt just to get revenge?” Henry’s handsome face twisted in disbelief. I lifted my chin, speaking out of pure, spiteful spite. “Collin is taller than you, and he is better looking. I stopped loving you a long time ago. Now, I want him!” Henry scoffed, looking at me like a toad trying to swallow a swan. “Everyone knows Collin Sterling is totally untouchable. No woman has ever managed to catch his eye.” “That is exactly why you need to figure out a way to make it happen! If you help me get him, I will sign a legal agreement waiving all of my inheritance rights. I will hand over the multi-billion dollar family empire to you and my sister on a silver platter.” I spun around, pretending to be utterly detached and cool. But the second my back was turned to him, hot tears flooded my eyes. Of course I knew my chances of actually landing Collin Sterling were absolute zero. I was just using this mutually assured destruction tactic to vent the agonizing, suffocating love I still felt for Henry. But I never, in a million years, expected Collin Sterling to step forward in front of a massive crowd, take my hand, and ask me, “What day are we getting married?” … “This is my former fiancée, Cathy. She has a massive crush on you, Mr. Sterling.” “She loves your movie-star looks. She loves your ruthless, decisive charm in the boardroom. She is deeply captivated by the mature elegance you have cultivated over the years…” Henry’s jaw was clenched tight, his handsome face dark and stiff as he read the embarrassing love letter addressed to Collin. Henry had written the letter for me. The massive diamond necklace and designer gown I was wearing were all paid for with his black Amex. He had actually bailed on a multi-national board meeting just to drive me to the most exclusive, expensive restaurant in the city. He personally arranged this extravagant candlelight dinner, all to help me confess my “love” to Collin Sterling. Collin let out a low, icy laugh. “Is this some kind of April Fools’ joke?” Henry’s jaw muscle twitched. He tried his hardest to look completely unfazed. “I assure you, I am not joking. Cathy is genuinely interested in you, and I am simply acting as the middleman to help her.” “You can leave now. Stop ruining my private evening with Collin.” I dismissed Henry with a cold, dismissive wave of my hand, watching him turn and walk out into the pouring rain. His silhouette was lean, broad-shouldered, and striking. He looked even more mature and captivating than the day I met him ten years ago. Back then, he was just a broke college freshman working a summer internship at my father’s conglomerate. He wore faded blue dress shirts. His eyes were clear, bright, and fiercely stubborn, and he worked harder than anyone else in the building. I saw his brilliant potential and his impeccable character. I personally pulled him out of the mud, guiding him step-by-step until that broke intern became the youngest Vice President in the company’s history. “He says you are into me, but the way you are looking at him right now… it is painfully obvious you still love him,” Collin commented, his voice flat and detached. His face was flawlessly handsome, his eyes impossibly deep and unreadable. He sat behind a thin veil of smoke rising from a burning stick of agarwood, looking like an untouchable god observing the mortal world. Right at that moment, through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, I saw Henry stop on the sidewalk below and look back up at our table. Without caring about my dignity or boundaries, I immediately stood up, walked around the table, and dropped directly onto Collin’s lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him close so that from the street, it looked like we were intimately whispering against each other’s lips. “I am so sorry, Collin. I had to lie and tell him I wanted to date you, because that was the only way I could get you in a room alone. My actual intention is purely business. I am begging you to drop Henry’s project and invest your capital in me.” I didn’t know if it was just my imagination, but for a split second, a flash of deep disappointment seemed to cross Collin’s eyes. “You do realize I am scheduled to sign a fifty-million-dollar investment deal with Henry’s division next week, right?” Of course I knew! I was completely out of time. I frantically pulled a sleek leather binder from my bag and started rapid-firing my pitch, breaking down the stealth startup I had been building in secret. “…I have partnered directly with top PhD researchers at the university. Our proprietary tech is leagues ahead of whatever Henry’s team is pitching. We have a one hundred percent viability rate for commercial scaling…” Collin slowly flipped through the pages, a faint, amused smirk touching the corner of his lips. “Everyone in the industry says you are a brainless girl obsessed with love. But this company you have built… it is incredibly solid.” I let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. “My father is a massive misogynist. He doesn’t have a son, and he would rather hand his entire empire over to his nephew than let me sit in the big chair.” “Originally, I poured all my time and resources into grooming Henry. I honestly believed that once we got married, we would run the conglomerate together as a power couple. But then he had to go and fall in love with Claire. My father’s bastard daughter from his mistress!” Collin looked at me, his expression perfectly calm. “The mistress you are referring to is now legally your father’s wife. Claire is currently the beloved, golden child of your family. If Henry marries her, he gets the exact same keys to the kingdom.” And that was the exact thing that made my blood boil with sheer, unadulterated rage! I poured my absolute heart and soul into building Henry up, and in the end, I was basically just polishing the crown for Claire. Years ago, Claire and her home-wrecking mother had aggressively barged into our lives. The stress and humiliation had triggered a massive heart attack that killed my mother. I hated them with every fiber of my being! Henry falling in love with Claire was the most vicious, agonizing betrayal I could possibly imagine. “I am going to destroy them. And right now, you are the only person on earth who can help me do it. Drop Henry. Invest in me.” I stared at Collin, my eyes burning with desperate intensity. But his gaze remained chillingly detached. He firmly grabbed my waist and effortlessly lifted me off his lap, placing me onto the chair next to him. “I absolutely despise people who mix emotions with business. Come find me when you actually have your head on straight.” 2 Collin stood up and gracefully exited the restaurant. I stumbled out of the private dining room and chased after him, only to be completely stunned to see Henry still standing in the freezing rain by the entrance. “I watched you literally throw yourself onto his lap, Cathy. I never realized you were this incredibly desperate and cheap!” His eyes looked like they were literally on fire. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. “What? Are you jealous? You stood down here freezing in the rain for an hour just to wait for me so you could insult me?” Before he could even open his mouth to reply, Claire’s sickeningly sweet, high-pitched voice drifted out from the VIP club across the street. “Oh, Cathy, you are so confused! Henry was waiting for me. He wasn’t waiting for you.” She was wearing a skin-tight, sequined mini dress that highlighted every curve of her body, looking like a total knockout compared to my stiff, conservative business suit. Henry looked at her, his voice instantly softening into pure, sickening devotion. “Baby, aren’t you freezing?” He quickly stripped off his expensive tailored overcoat and draped it over her bare shoulders. She pouted, leaning into him. “It isn’t enough! I need my big strong Henry to warm up my hands.” Henry immediately grabbed her hands, bringing them to his lips and gently blowing hot breath over her fingers. Once, while crying hysterically, I had begged him to explain why he fell for her instead of me. His answer? He said I was always so obsessed with working and grinding that I acted like a bitter, exhausted old man. He said that only a delicate, dramatic, high-maintenance girl like Claire could actually make him feel like he was in love. “I had a little too much champagne. Henry, you have to drive me home.” Claire happily slid into the passenger seat of the bright red Ferrari idling by the curb. I flared with anger. “Get out of that car! Henry drove that car here to drop me off for my date with Collin, which means he is responsible for driving me home! And for the record, I was the one who bought that car for him years ago!” “Let Henry choose who he wants to drive,” Claire pouted. As she leaned past me to close the door, she dropped her voice to a vicious, venomous whisper. “You lose again, you pathetic tomboy. You can throw all the money in the world at Henry, but you can’t buy his love. And honestly? Even if you stripped naked and threw yourself at Collin Sterling, he still wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole.” And just like she predicted, Henry chose her. He slid into the driver’s seat, revved the engine, and peeled out into the night. Right at that exact second, three massive, heavily tattooed bouncers burst out of the club across the street. They grabbed me roughly by the hair and demanded payment for a massive bar tab. “Your little sister skipped out on her bill! She told us to come find you! Pay up right now, or else…” They flashed disgusting, predatory smiles, their filthy, heavy hands violently gripping my arms and shoulders. I immediately started screaming. “Let go of me! Henry! Help!” Henry’s Ferrari hadn’t made it very far down the street. I knew for an absolute fact that he could clearly see me being assaulted in his rearview mirror. But he didn’t hit the brakes. He slowed down for a fraction of a second, and then aggressively stomped on the gas and disappeared. It was exactly like our relationship. He abandoned me without a second of hesitation. He chose Claire, my absolute worst enemy in the world, leaving me to cry myself to sleep and become the laughingstock of everyone who hated me. “Stop screaming. Why don’t you come inside and play with us for a bit…” The bouncer’s breath smelled like stale beer and vomit. He leaned his repulsive face aggressively close to mine, his greasy hands refusing to let go of my suit jacket. My patience completely shattered. I reached into my designer tote bag, pulled out the heavy, hard-cover leather binder holding my business plans, and started violently smashing it into their faces. The sharp edges of the heavy paper sliced into their skin. My sudden, explosive burst of adrenaline and pure rage forced them to stumble backward. When I finally turned around, panting and shaking, I saw Collin’s matte black Rolls-Royce parked silently at the end of the block. The exact second I fought the bouncers off, the Rolls-Royce quietly pulled away and merged into traffic. He had sat there and watched the entire thing happen, and he actively chose to do absolutely nothing. A crushing wave of exhaustion and total defeat swallowed me whole. I finally accepted the brutal reality. I simply did not possess the kind of charm required to make a man like him fall for me. But I still desperately needed to use this fake “crush” as a Trojan horse to secure his venture capital. If I could just convince him to drop Henry and back my stealth startup, I could violently flip the board. I could crush Henry, crush Claire, and step directly on my father’s neck. But I never expected my violent street brawl with the bouncers to be caught on camera by a bystander. The video was uploaded to Twitter, and within hours, it was trending at number one. #BillionaireHeiressGoesRabid, Allegedly Dumped By Fiancé# The tabloids were absolutely tearing into my history with Henry. They wrote dramatic articles about how the wealthy princess groomed the poor boy, only for the poor boy to strike it rich and dump her because she was a boring, washed-up hag… Smack! Henry slammed a massive stack of printed tabloid articles onto my desk. “The front pages, the trending hashtags, every single outlet is calling me a heartless, gold-digging bastard! Cathy, you know we are in the middle of a massive funding round to take the company public! Did you seriously pay PR firms to launch a smear campaign against me?!” I let out a loud, mocking laugh. “If you don’t want people to call you a monster, maybe don’t act like one. The tabloids are spot on. I bled myself dry for ten years to build you up. What exactly did you give me in return?” Henry knew he was entirely in the wrong, but his face remained perfectly cold and arrogant. “You asked me to help you seduce Collin, and I agreed. But he isn’t interested in you. What exactly do you want me to do about it?” “It means you aren’t trying hard enough! You need to step it up.” I grabbed him by his expensive silk tie, aggressively pulling him down to my level. “At the spring charity auction tomorrow, I am going to buy him a gift. If I see something I want, I don’t care if you have to bankrupt yourself bidding against the entire room, you are going to win it for me.” 3 The charity auction was packed with the city’s absolute elite. And Collin Sterling was there. He was seated high above the crowd, occupying the center VIP box on the second floor. I was sitting in the very front row, flanked by Henry and Claire. Because of my prime seat, I had a perfect view of the stage. And when the very first item was brought out, I completely froze. It was a piece of jewelry designed by my mother thirty years ago. “…The late Mrs. Cathy Senior was an internationally renowned master jeweler. Her early pieces are fiercely hoarded by global collectors. Tonight, we are incredibly honored to auction a vintage pair of her butterfly earrings…” I started bidding like an absolute madwoman. But every single time I raised my paddle, Claire instantly threw out a higher number, clearly doing it just to antagonize me. “Help me!” I shot a desperate glare at Henry. “You promised! You said you would bid until the room burned down to get me what I wanted!” Henry glanced nervously at Claire, who was looking at the earrings with greedy, obsessive eyes. He lowered his voice, rejecting me. “I promised to help you buy a gift for Collin. Do you really think Collin is going to wear vintage diamond earrings? Stop being ridiculous.” I was burning with anxiety. Every single drop of liquid cash I had was tied up in running my secret startup. I didn’t have the personal funds to survive a bidding war. In the end, Claire won the auction and took home my mother’s masterpiece. “Ugh, the wings on this butterfly are way too big. I hate it.” Claire pulled a pair of tiny cuticle scissors from her designer purse. Without a second of hesitation, she violently snipped the delicate, hollowed gold filigree. Two massive, flawless diamonds snapped off and rolled across the carpet. I jumped up, horrified. “Are you out of your mind?! That is a museum-quality piece! Why the hell did you destroy it?!” “I bought it with my own money. I can do whatever the hell I want with it.” Claire giggled maliciously. She grabbed the remaining pieces of the earrings, violently bent the gold out of shape, and tossed the mangled metal onto the floor like garbage. Quiet, mocking laughter rippled through the surrounding rows. “Claire is doing that on purpose to put Cathy in her place.” “Exactly. Cathy’s mother stubbornly refused to divorce the old man, forcing Claire to grow up as a bastard child. Her mother was a notorious home-wrecker.” “Well, Claire is the one on top now. Ask anyone in the city who the favorite daughter is, and they will tell you it’s Claire. Word on the street is Henry is obsessed with her too. The second they get married, Cathy is going to be kicked out of the family empire permanently.” “Cathy is so pathetic. She doesn’t even have the cash to bid, so she just has to sit there and watch her dead mother’s jewelry get turned into scrap…” My heart was bleeding out. I sat there, completely paralyzed, watching the masterpiece my mother had spent countless sleepless nights hand-crafting be reduced to absolute trash. Up on the stage, the auctioneer brought out a new item. “An early nineteenth-century Breguet tourbillon pocket watch. Bidding starts at one million…” From the second-floor VIP box, Collin threw out the very first bid, instantly raising the price to three million. It was obvious he actually wanted the watch. I immediately raised my paddle. Collin and I went back and forth, driving the price all the way up to twenty million. Sitting next to me, Henry’s face was turning black with rage. Claire, completely oblivious to the arrangement, sneered at me. “Stop pretending to be a big shot. Do you even have the money to pay for that?” Just as Collin casually threw out a bid for thirty million, I stood up and screamed at the top of my lungs: “Whatever he bids, I will double it!” The entire ballroom erupted into chaotic gasps. No one could believe I had the kind of financial firepower to aggressively outbid Collin Sterling, the wealthiest man in the city. My next sentence pushed the absolute insanity of the room into overdrive. “Put it on Henry’s tab. I am buying this watch for Collin.” Jaws literally hit the floor. The entire crowd watched in stunned silence as I pulled Henry’s matte black Amex from my purse, swiped it for the watch, and commanded the auction staff to hand-deliver it to Collin’s VIP box on the second floor, along with a massive bouquet of red roses. By sunset, the story of me using Henry’s money to aggressively court Collin Sterling had completely nuked the high society gossip channels. That evening, I was dressed to kill. But the second I stepped into the sprawling, marble-floored garage, Henry lunged out from the shadows and blocked my path. “Do you have any idea what people are calling me right now?! They are calling me the ultimate, pathetic cuckold! They say I am literally funding my fiancée’s affair!” I gave him a slow, sideways glance. “It’s still a massive upgrade from being called a heartless bastard. I just took the heat off you by making the entire city think I am the one cheating. Shouldn’t you be on your knees thanking me?” Henry ground his teeth together, forcing out a cold, venomous sneer. “You spent thirty million dollars of my money. Did it actually work? Is he happy?” I unlocked my phone screen and lazily waved it in front of his face. “Take a look. Ten minutes ago, Collin sent me a text. ‘Tonight. 8:00 PM. The Presidential Suite at the Grand Plaza Hotel.’” All the color violently drained from Henry’s face. He looked like a corpse. I reached out and arrogantly patted him on the cheek. “What are you standing around for? Get in the driver’s seat. You have to drop me off for my date with Collin.” 4 I was absolutely convinced that Collin had been moved by my grand, thirty-million-dollar gesture. I had spent the afternoon putting together an incredibly aggressive, highly detailed business prospectus. I was going to convince him to fund my startup tonight. Sitting in the driver’s seat, Henry kept violently shifting his eyes to the rearview mirror to glare at me. Suddenly, he snapped, “Why the hell did he pick the Grand Plaza Hotel?” I froze for a second. Then it hit me. The Grand Plaza was the exact hotel where Henry and I were supposed to hold our wedding reception. Our wedding date was scheduled for next Thursday. The invitations had already been mailed out. I had spent hundreds of thousands on artisan wedding favors and dropped over a million dollars customizing the ballroom decor. And right now, the groom was driving me to that exact hotel so I could sleep with another man. I let out a cold, empty laugh. “Why do you even care? The beach right under this overpass is where we had our first real date. Five years ago, I almost drowned trying to save those two kids who got pulled out by the riptide.” “The paramedics literally pronounced me dead on the sand. But you refused to accept it. You did CPR and chest compressions until your hands were bleeding, and I actually came back to life.” “When I opened my eyes, the very first thing I saw was you sobbing. I swore to myself right then and there that I would love you until the day I died…” Back then, Henry and I had literally survived death together. But talking about it now just left a disgusting, rotting taste in my mouth. “Whatever. It doesn’t matter anymore. You forgot about it years ago. The rock we used to sit on has probably eroded into the ocean by now anyway.” Henry had been dead silent. Suddenly, he violently slammed his foot onto the gas pedal. He whipped the steering wheel, launching the sports car off the highway exit and speeding directly toward the beach underneath the overpass. I panicked. “Are you insane?! I am going to be late! Take me to the hotel!” Henry’s dark eyes were wild and unhinged. “Didn’t you just say you wanted to visit the beach and take a walk down memory lane? If you didn’t want to go, why the hell did you bring it up?!” The radio was blaring emergency weather alerts. A massive Category 4 hurricane was scheduled to make landfall in less than an hour. The authorities were begging people to stay off the roads. I screamed at him. I told him he was a complete psychopath for driving to the ocean in the middle of a hurricane. He drifted the car onto the wet sand, slammed it into park, and violently dragged me out of the passenger seat, demanding that we go look for the rock where we fell in love. The sky above the ocean was a suffocating, bruised purple. Massive, terrifying waves were crashing onto the shore. The hurricane sirens in the distance began to wail. “You’re right! I am a psychopath! Why are you pulling these disgusting, twisted games just to trigger me?! When you told me to help you seduce Collin, I wanted to take a knife and gut him!” he roared over the sound of the wind. I sneered at him, my voice dripping with venom. “Stop acting! The only reason you agreed to help me is because I promised to sign away my inheritance rights!” “Your ultimate fantasy is for me to get permanently exiled from the family empire. You are just waiting for my father to drop dead so you and Claire can swallow the entire conglomerate…” “Shut up!” Henry’s eyes were practically bulging out of his skull. He grabbed my face with both hands, pulling me so close I could feel his frantic, desperate breath on my lips. It felt like pure agony mixed with terrifying obsession. “You don’t understand me at all. The truth is, I… I actually…” “You actually what?” For some reason, my heart started to race. Right at that exact second, his phone started ringing. The name Claire-Pad flashed brightly across the screen. Henry hesitated for barely a second before he answered the call. The heavy, intense, suffocating tension between us instantly evaporated into the freezing wind. I knew it. I knew this was exactly how it was going to play out. And the next thirty seconds were painfully predictable. Claire was crying, saying she was absolutely terrified of the thunder, demanding that Henry come over immediately to hold her. “You can’t. Your job right now is to drop me off at Collin’s hotel.” I spoke loudly, making sure she could hear me. The second Claire heard my voice, she started sobbing hysterically. “Henry, I am so scared! Oh my god, I just fell down! I think my leg is broken! Henry, you have to come take me to the emergency room, please…” Her acting was offensively terrible. But Henry bought it instantly. He turned toward the car, preparing to speed off to her apartment. “What about me?! Collin is waiting! How the hell am I supposed to catch a cab out here in a literal hurricane?!” I screamed at him, furious. Henry stopped and looked me dead in the eyes. His voice was completely serious. “I am done playing this pathetic game with you, Cathy. You are never going to get Collin.” “The women who throw themselves at him are A-list celebrities, Miss Universe winners, foreign royalty… Cathy, you don’t stand a chance in hell. You are a complete zero to him.” “Besides, the only reason you are doing this is to make me angry, right? Congratulations, you did it. Now drop it. I am absolutely not letting you see Collin tonight.” He gave me one final, dark look. And then, he actually abandoned me on the beach. He got into the Ferrari and sped off to save Claire’s “broken leg.” The hurricane was moving in incredibly fast. The freezing wind sliced through my thin silk dress, chilling me to the bone. My heart turned to pure, dead ash. From this moment forward, the only emotion I would ever feel for Henry was absolute, unadulterated hatred. The wind was deafening. If I stayed on the beach, I was going to die. But the gale-force winds were so strong I couldn’t even stand up straight. I couldn’t move a single inch. Just as I accepted that I was going to freeze to death on the sand, a massive, black helicopter cut through the storm, flying aggressively against the hurricane-force winds directly toward me. It looked like a tiny, violently shaking boat in a massive tsunami. Terrifying, but incredibly resolute. The side door slid open. A man leaned out and extended his hand toward me. The violent wind whipped his hair around, but I could clearly see his striking, elegant features and piercing eyes. It was Collin Sterling. He looked down at me and said, “I accept your offer. Now get in.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “450046”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The scholarship student my parents sponsored led the charge in bullying me. She locked me in a bathroom stall, dumped freezing dirty water over my head, and took degrading photos of me stripped down to my underwear. When I knelt crying on the floor, clutching my medical report and an audio recording, begging my parents to call the police, they confiscated my phone. They did it for the sake of their laughable public image. “Audrey, Riley comes from a dirt-poor family. This is just kids messing around. If we involve the cops, the press will say the District Attorney is throwing his weight around, destroying a disadvantaged kid’s future.” “You are our daughter. You need to look at the bigger picture. To avoid any conflict of interest, we are settling this privately. You are going to sign a formal statement of forgiveness.” I stared at that piece of paper, filled with words about grace and maturity, in absolute disbelief. “She ruined me, and you’re afraid of ruining her?” “Is she your real daughter?” Later, I saw a post on Riley’s Instagram. The picture showed my parents treating her to a massive seafood feast I had been begging to go to for months. The caption read: “My godparents say some entitled brats just need to be put in their place.” In that exact moment, my heart turned to ash. 1 “Smile for the camera, Audrey! Aren’t your parents big-shot lawyers?” “Call them! Let’s see if the almighty DA saves his precious daughter, or if he protects his favorite charity case.” The stall door was kicked open. A bucket of ice water, reeking of cigarette ash and bleach, washed over my head. I curled up next to the toilet. My clothes clung to my shivering skin. Riley shoved her phone right into my face. The camera flash blinded me, burning into my retinas. I bit down on my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth. That night, I knelt on the cold marble floor of our living room. I held my medical report in one hand and a voice recorder in the other. “Dad, Mom, I need to file a police report. Riley took photos of me in my underwear…” “Shut your mouth.” Victoria sat perfectly upright in her tailored designer suit. She held a steaming cup of Earl Grey tea, not even bothering to look up. “Go change your clothes. You smell like a dumpster. Look at the state of you.” I jerked my head up. The hard floor was grinding into my kneecaps, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the shock. “Mom, this is proof! She held my head near the bowl! She’s threatening to post the pictures online…” My dad sat in the center of the plush leather sofa, rolling an unlit cigar between his fingers. He finally looked at me. His eyes were like dead stones. “Audrey. Hand me the phone.” My hands shook violently as I offered it to him. Without missing a beat, he powered it down, popped the SIM card out, and tossed it right into the heavy crystal ashtray on the coffee table. “As of today, your phone is confiscated. You are grounded. Stay in your room and reflect on your behavior.” I shot to my feet. “Are you insane? I am the victim! Dad, just listen to the tape! Listen to what she said to me…” “I said, shut your mouth!” Richard slammed his fist onto the coffee table. The teacups rattled. He stood up, towering over me. “Call the cops? Do you have any idea what that means?” “How do you think the media will spin it? The arrogant daughter of the District Attorney bullies a poor scholarship girl and ruins her future.” “Riley’s family has nothing. Her father is paralyzed. She is the city’s poster child for overcoming adversity.” “Do you want to throw away everything we’ve built just because your feelings got hurt?” My jaw dropped. My throat felt like sandpaper. No words would come out. My feelings got hurt? I was stripped, photographed, and humiliated. And to him, it was just a minor inconvenience. My mother set her tea down and walked over. “Audrey, be reasonable. We are public figures. Thousands of eyes are watching our every move.” “Riley has had a hard life. Maybe she acted a bit aggressively, but she’s just crying out for attention.” “You are older. You need to show some grace. To keep our hands clean, this gets buried. Tonight.” She pulled a crisp sheet of paper from her leather briefcase and slid it onto the table. Statement of Forgiveness. Party A: Audrey. Party B: Riley. Terms: An acknowledgment of roughhousing between classmates. I agree to drop the matter and waive all rights to pursue legal action. Dad handed me his Montblanc fountain pen. “Sign it. Don’t make us force your hand.” I stared at the pen. I had saved up for months to buy it for him when he got promoted to Chief DA. “And if I don’t?” Dad let out a short, cold laugh. “If you don’t? I will pull you out of school and ship you off to your grandfather’s cabin upstate.” “As long as I run this district, no precinct will touch your case. No one will cross me.” These were my parents. To protect their pristine political feathers, to maintain their fake philanthropy, they were willing to feed their own flesh and blood to the wolves. My fingers trembled as I took the pen. The nib scratched harshly against the paper. I signed my name. Mom smiled, clearly satisfied. She folded the paper neatly. “That’s my girl. I knew you’d understand. You must be starving. Let me go fix dinner.” “Don’t bother.” I pushed myself off the floor. My legs were numb. Back in my room, I dug out an old backup iPad from the bottom of a drawer. Half an hour later, an Instagram notification popped up. It was from Riley. A photo carousel. Massive Alaskan king crab legs. Maine lobster tails. Two hands clinking champagne glasses. One hand wore my mother’s signature diamond ring. The other wore my father’s Rolex. Location tag: The Oceanaire Room. Caption: “My godparents treating me to calm my nerves. Some entitled brats just need to be put in their place. Thank you Mom and Dad! Love you!” I stared at the screen. My stomach did a violent flip. Mom didn’t go to the kitchen to fix dinner. She had a reservation booked the entire time. They were throwing a victory dinner for my abuser. I bolted to my bathroom and threw up until my ribs ached. The girl in the mirror was pale as a ghost, a bruise already blooming on her jawline. And on the screen, the three of them looked like a perfect, happy family. If they loved their little charity case so much. Then I guess they didn’t need a real daughter anymore. 2 The sky was barely gray when I woke up. I dragged my dusty suitcase from under the bed and unzipped it. My closet was stuffed with designer labels. Prada, Gucci, Chanel. All bought by my mother to make me look like a proper DA’s kid. I didn’t touch a single piece. I packed a few faded vintage tees and two pairs of worn-out denim jeans. I smashed my porcelain piggy bank with a heavy book. It held about three hundred dollars in crumpled bills and coins. When I lugged the suitcase downstairs, the smell of fresh coffee and bacon filled the air. Mom was untying her apron. She frowned the second she saw me. “What are you doing dragging that thing around at six in the morning? The noise is unbearable.” Dad was reading the morning paper at the island counter. He didn’t look up. “Put the bag away and eat your breakfast. Riley is coming over this afternoon. Don’t ruin the mood with that miserable look on your face.” Riley. He practically said her name with affection. I left my suitcase by the front door and stood in the entryway. “I’m not eating. And I am never looking at her face again.” Mom slammed a plate onto the granite counter. “Audrey! What kind of tantrum is this? We settled this last night.” “Riley apologized. You signed the paper. We are turning the page.” “Why are you being so vindictive?” “Vindictive?” I tapped my temple with my index finger. “Mom. I have a mild concussion.” “She has pictures of me stripped down on her phone, and you two bought her lobster.” “Is this your idea of the bigger picture?” Dad slammed his newspaper down. His face turned an ugly shade of red. “You’re stalking our social media now?” “She posted it on a public feed. That’s the whole point.” “Enough!” Dad stood up, pointing a thick finger at the front door. “You want to walk out? Fine! Let’s see how far you get!” “If you walk through that door, you stay gone. I will act like I never had a daughter.” “Leave the credit cards, the keys, and whatever cash you have on you.” I reached into my pocket, pulled out the heavy brass house key, and tossed it onto the shoe cabinet. It made a sharp, metallic clink. “You took my phone last night.” “I don’t have your plastic. It’s in my desk.” “As for this house…” I took one last look at the crystal chandeliers and the imported rugs. “Give my room to Riley. She’s clearly cut from the same rotten cloth as you two.” “You ungrateful little bitch!” Mom snatched her hot coffee mug and hurled it at my head. It shattered against the doorframe. Boiling coffee splashed my jacket, and a sharp shard of ceramic sliced across my cheek. A warm line of blood trickled down my jaw. “And one more thing. Stop pretending you do anything for my sake.” “The only things you love are yourselves and your fake public image.” I grabbed the handle of my suitcase, pushed the heavy oak door open, and stepped into the cold morning air. Dad’s roar echoed behind me. “Get out! Let her freeze! Give her three days, and she’ll be crawling back on her knees!” I didn’t look back. Three days? I wouldn’t beg them for a drop of water if I were dying of thirst. I found a cramped, illegal basement apartment in the rundown east side of the city. I had just dropped my bag onto the concrete floor when my iPad buzzed. An incoming FaceTime call from an unknown email. I hesitated, then swiped to accept. Riley’s smug face filled the screen. The background was my living room. She was lounging on my custom velvet beanbag chair, the one nobody else was allowed to sit on. She was spinning my limited-edition anime figure in her hands. “Hey there, big sis. Heard you ran away from home?” Her voice was dripping with fake sweetness. “Mom says you threw a massive fit. Told me to just ignore your drama.” “This little toy is pretty cute though. Mom said I could keep it. You don’t mind, do you?” Snap. She twisted her hands, violently snapping the figure’s head off. She covered her mouth in mock horror. “Oops. My hand slipped. You’re not mad, are you?” My mother’s voice drifted in from the background. “Riley, honey, leave that garbage alone. Throw it in the trash. I’ll buy you a better one.” My knuckles turned white as I gripped the edges of the iPad. I saved up my allowance for six months to buy that figure. It was the only thing in that suffocating house that brought me any joy. I took a deep breath and forced a dead, chilling smile. “I don’t mind at all.” “Trash belongs with trash. It suits you.” “Oh, and by the way. I used to let a stray dog sleep on that beanbag. It pissed all over the filling.” Riley’s face warped into disgust. She vaulted off the chair like it was on fire. “You’re lying! They don’t even own a dog!” “Believe what you want.” I cut the call. Staring at my black reflection on the screen, I slid down the dirty wall until I hit the floor. My stomach growled fiercely. The real nightmare was just beginning. 3 I filed for a temporary leave of absence at the university. My academic advisor took one look at my bruised face and my medical report, sighed heavily, and processed the paperwork without asking questions. Without a degree, my options were trash. I took a graveyard shift at a sketchy gas station convenience store and spent my days doing cheap freelance translation online. By the third day, the fever hit. I needed antibiotics, but my bank account had exactly thirty dollars left. I chugged tap water and forced down some expired cold medicine I found in my jacket pocket. As long as I kept breathing, I was going to stick around to watch their empire burn. Half a month later, I had to go back to campus to pick up some administrative paperwork. My backpack held my beat-up laptop and my ID documents. I had barely reached the steps of the main library when a group surrounded me. “Well, well. If it isn’t the disgraced DA’s daughter.” Riley stood at the top of the concrete steps, looking down at me like I was a rat. She was wrapped in a cream-colored cashmere coat. I recognized it. My mother bought it in Paris last month. “What are you wearing? Did you fish those jeans out of a dumpster?” Riley trotted down the steps and pinched the sleeve of my faded hoodie. “This is so pathetic. Mom told me you were whoring yourself out on the streets, but I didn’t believe her.” “I guess it’s true. You can’t even afford decent clothes.” A crowd of students started gathering, whispering and pointing. I slapped her hand away and glared at her. “Did you steal that coat, or did you beg for it?” Riley’s face twitched, but she immediately cranked up the volume. “What are you talking about! Mom lent this to me!” “I’m representing the university at the State Debate Championship. She didn’t want me catching a cold.” Her eyes darted around. Suddenly, she lunged forward and grabbed the straps of my backpack. “Wait a minute! I just realized I’m missing a hundred-dollar bill!” “You stole it! You’re broke and desperate, and you were lurking right next to me!” “Search her! Check her bag!” Her little groupies instantly closed in. I hugged my backpack to my chest. “Back off! I didn’t take your damn money!” In the scuffle, Riley’s manicured acrylic nails dragged hard across the back of my hand. The skin split open. Blood welled up instantly. “What is going on here!” The Dean of Students pushed through the crowd, looking panicked. And walking right behind him, carrying thermal soup containers, were my parents. They had come to bring their pet project a hot lunch. Mom shoved past me, practically knocking me over, and pulled Riley into a protective hug. “Riley, sweetie, what happened? Are you hurt?” Dad marched right up to me. “Audrey! How long are you going to humiliate this family?” “Sneaking onto campus to steal money? You are a complete disgrace!” I held up my bleeding hand. “Mr. District Attorney. Which eye did you use to see me steal anything?” “I thought your job required evidence. Or do you just skip right to the conviction without a trial?” Dad’s face flushed dark purple. “Then why would Riley single you out? Out of everyone here, she pointed at you.” “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. You’ve clearly hit rock bottom.” Riley buried her face in my mother’s expensive blouse, faking a sob. “Dad, maybe I misplaced it… but Audrey was acting so aggressive…” “It’s okay, honey. I’ll handle this.” Mom glared at me with absolute venom. “Open the bag, Audrey. Let everyone see what’s inside. Prove your innocence.” “If you didn’t take it, you apologize to Riley for causing a scene, and we’ll let this go.” Looking at my parents acting like benevolent gods, my stomach churned. I couldn’t take it anymore. I grabbed the zipper of my backpack, ripped it open, and flipped the whole bag upside down. Crash. Notebooks, chargers, cheap pens, and my old sticker-covered laptop spilled onto the concrete. My frayed wallet hit the ground. A few crumpled one-dollar bills fluttered out. “Look at it! Where is the hundred dollars?” My eyes burned with rage as I pointed at the mess. “Search it! Isn’t that what you wanted? Search me!” The crowd went dead silent. Riley shrank back, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Then… maybe I left it in the lecture hall.” “You ‘left it’?” I took a step toward her. “You publicly accused me of theft, incited a mob to search my property, and physically assaulted me. Isn’t that harassment?” “Enough!” Dad barked out the order. He noticed the growing ring of students holding up their smartphones. His jaw tightened. He marched over and clamped his hand around my wrist like a vice. “Stop acting like a lunatic and get in the car.” He dropped his voice to a menacing hiss. “We will talk about this at home. Stop putting on a show for these peasants.” Mom caught on quickly. She plastered a fake, polished smile on her face for the crowd. “Teenage rebellion, you know how it is. Nothing to see here, kids. Let’s clear the area.” They flanked me, grabbing both my arms, trying to physically drag me toward the black Audi A6 idling by the gates. I dug my heels in and grabbed onto a metal handrail. “I’m not going anywhere! Let go of me!” Dad leaned in, his breath hot against my ear. “If you don’t stop making a scene, I will have you committed to a psychiatric ward before the sun goes down.” A psych ward. To protect his reputation, he was perfectly willing to lock his own daughter in a mental asylum. I let out a dry, cracked laugh. “You care about your optics?” I sucked in a massive breath and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Help! Someone help me! The District Attorney is trying to kill me! My parents are trying to silence me!” Every single person froze. The campus security guards popped out of their booths, looking terrified. Dad’s face drained of all color. He instinctively let go of my arm like it was on fire. “Are you insane!” He roared, veins popping on his forehead. Mom panicked, her perfect political wife mask completely shattering. “Audrey, stop lying! When have we ever hurt you?” I didn’t give her a second to recover. I pointed straight at the Audi. “You’re dragging me to the car so you can lock me away and threaten me where no one can hear!” “Just like the night you forced me to sign that NDA!” “You covered up Riley’s abuse to save your own political careers! You forced me to kneel and apologize to my own bully!” “And now that I’ve escaped, you hunt me down at school to frame me for stealing?” The crowd erupted. “Wait, what NDA?” “The abuse rumors were real?” “Did she just say her parents covered it up?” Hundreds of judging eyes locked onto Richard and Victoria. Dad’s hands were shaking. He wanted to strangle me, but the sea of glowing camera lenses held him back. He stared at me, his eyes filled with pure hatred. “Audrey. If you don’t get in that car right now, I will freeze every asset tied to your name. You will never set foot in a classroom again.” I smirked, reaching into my hoodie pocket. I pulled out my cheap folding boxcutter. Click. “Don’t take another step.” I pressed the blade lightly against my own neck. The crowd gasped in horror. Mom shrieked. “Audrey! What are you doing! Put that down!” “Are you scared?” “You’re not scared I’ll die. You’re scared I’ll bleed out right here and ruin your shiny election campaign.” “Richard. Victoria. Listen very carefully.” “As of this exact second, I have no parents.” “Whatever debt I owed you for bringing me into this world, I paid in full the night you forced me to sign away my dignity.” “Now take your fake charity daughter, and get the hell out of my sight.” I pressed the blade just a millimeter deeper. The skin broke. A single drop of crimson blood rolled down my collarbone.

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The night my best friend debuted at the Met, Nolan locked me in our room. He was terrified the livestream would trigger another breakdown. Hearing the roaring applause from the tablet, I bit my lip until blood came. Five years ago, the car crashed. I shielded him, but he shoved me aside to protect Rebecca. I had been safe. That push slammed me into a steel rebar that pierced both thighs. At nineteen, I became paralyzed from the pelvis down. Five years of relentless phantom pain followed. A waking nightmare. Today, as the agony flared, I begged Nolan for relief. Still watching Rebecca onscreen, he sneered, “Hurts? Go die. Five years and you still whine. Do I look like a fool?” He threw potassium chloride at me and pinned my wrists. “Tonight is Rebecca’s comeback. Must you ruin it with self-pity?” “Try it,” I said. “Push that, and I’m gone in minutes.” His phone rang. It was Rebecca. His glare melted as he stepped out to answer. I looked at the syringe. With my own hands, I ended what little hope remained and pressed the needle into my vein. He never meant to kill me. But I was truly finished with living. 1 The moment the potassium chloride entered my bloodstream, I didn’t feel immediate pain. Just a suffocating tightness in my chest, like an invisible hand slowly crushing my heart from the inside out. The syringe was completely empty. Not a single drop left. I calmly pulled the needle out, twisted the safety cap back on, and dropped it into the medical sharps container. Inch by inch, I dragged my torso across the floor into the master bathroom. Outside the door, I could hear Nolan laughing on FaceTime with Rebecca. He praised her flawless routine. She playfully demanded he treat her to a late-night supper to celebrate. “You guys go ahead. I’ll pass.” “She is… she’s having a bad day.” His voice was drenched in exhaustion. After the crash five years ago, Nolan turned down a prestigious fellowship. His mentor screamed at him over the phone for forty minutes, calling him a waste of brilliant surgical talent. Nolan didn’t argue back. He hung up and smoked an entire pack of cigarettes in the hospital hallway. Then he sold his downtown condo, moved us into a cramped two-thousand-a-month apartment, and took endless graveyard shifts in the ER just to cover my medical bills. My vision started to tunnel. Using the last ounce of my strength, I fumbled through my wheelchair bag and pulled out a watch. A gift I always meant to give him, but never found the right moment. With a trembling hand, I scrawled three words on the bathroom mirror using my lipstick. ‘Not your fault.’ The watch slipped from my grip, clattering against the tiles and rolling into a dark corner. My consciousness began to detach. The stained bathroom ceiling morphed into the starry dome of the Metropolitan Theater. I was standing in the center of the stage again. Wearing that diamond-studded contemporary ballet costume with the flowing silk ribbons. My legs were long, powerful. I pushed off the tips of my toes and launched into a flawless triple pirouette. My final thought was terrifyingly clear. Nolan wouldn’t have to work night shifts for my nerve meds anymore. His hands would stop trembling. Rebecca could finally stand by his side without guilt. Everyone was finally free. When my awareness reformed, I was floating near the bathroom ceiling. I looked down at myself. Slumped against the edge of the bathtub. Skin an ashen gray, lips tinted a deep purple. My arms were locked mid-air, forever frozen in a graceful ballet pose. The empty pant legs of my sweatpants draped pathetically over the tiles like discarded props. The front doorbell rang. I drifted out of the bathroom, passing right through the solid wood of the bedroom door. In the living room, Rebecca was walking in arm-in-arm with Nolan’s mother, beaming with pride. She was still wearing her silver stage costume, her makeup immaculate. She practically reeked of fresh roses and standing ovations. Eleanor patted Rebecca’s hand, absolutely gushing. “You were spectacular tonight! Three standing ovations! Even the arts critics were raving about you.” Rebecca offered a perfectly modest smile. “I just followed the choreographer’s vision. The instructors really guided me.” Choreographer’s vision? Those choreography notes for that specific solo were written by me. I spent three agonizing months staying up late in my wheelchair to perfect them. Arthur, Nolan’s father, walked in behind them carrying an expensive bottle of eighteen-year-old Macallan. The whole family happily crowded into the kitchen to prep a celebration dinner. Nolan took charge of chopping the vegetables. Rebecca naturally stepped up right beside him to help. They moved in perfect sync. When she handed him the salt, her fingers brushed against his. Neither of them pulled away. Nolan paused his chopping. “Rebecca, that final suspended leap with the ribbons tonight was beautiful. The power for that movement comes from the shoulder blades, not the wrists, right?” Rebecca froze for a split second, then smiled and nodded. Floating near the ceiling, a phantom ache throbbed where my heart used to be. The secret behind that specific leap was something I taught all my students back in the day. 2 Only Nolan remembered. Eleanor walked out of the kitchen carrying a fruit platter. She glanced at our closed bedroom door and scowled. “Where is Avery? It’s the biggest night of Rebecca’s career, and she can’t even come out to say congratulations?” Nolan’s knife stopped moving. “We had a bit of an argument this afternoon. She’s resting.” Eleanor slammed the platter onto the dining table. “Throwing a tantrum again? It’s been five years! She screams about leg pain every single day. She doesn’t even have legs anymore, what is there to hurt?” “You are a brilliant attending surgeon, and she’s dragging you down so hard you can barely step into an operating room!” I wanted to speak. I wanted to say, I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was dead. But the moment the words left my lips, they dissolved into nothingness. Arthur sighed, leaning back into the sofa with his whiskey glass. “She used to be so glorious on stage. Remember when we sat in the front row for her opening night? Those were the days.” “Who could have known… honestly, it might have been a mercy if she had just passed away in that crash.” Rebecca poured a cup of tea and handed it to Nolan, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t let Eleanor’s words get to you. She just cares about you.” “Avery’s condition… it really is a heavy burden on everyone.” She paused, dropping her voice to a whisper. “When was the last time you actually smiled?” Nolan stared at the cutting board. He swallowed hard but said nothing. Rebecca reached out and placed her hand over his. Nolan didn’t pull away. Looking at them standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the warm, yellow light of the kitchen, an overwhelming sourness flooded my soul. But I smiled anyway. I could never give him this kind of warm, normal domestic life again. The celebration dinner officially began. In the center of the table sat a custom cake decorated with a sugar-sculpted ballerina wrapped in white ribbons. I wanted to get a closer look at the little figure. Just as my ghostly fingers reached out, Rebecca cheerfully sliced right through it. She scooped the figurine onto her plate and bit off one of its sugar ribbon arms. “This is gorgeous. This pose is from my absolute favorite solo piece.” Nolan’s eyes locked onto the broken ribbon arm on her plate. His lips trembled slightly. Rebecca noticed his shift in mood. “What’s wrong? Is it too sweet?” Nolan looked down. “It’s nothing.” He picked up the broken piece of sugar ribbon, placed it on his own saucer, and left it untouched. I was stunned. Did he remember something? Before I could process it, Eleanor pulled a thick document from her designer purse and slapped it onto the dining table. “I already got Avery’s signature.” I recognized that signature. It was my handwriting, but I never signed a divorce paper. Then it hit me. Two months ago, my own mother visited me and asked me to sign some paperwork, claiming it was for transferring the deed to our old family house. That document had been a divorce settlement. Nolan picked up the papers, flipping through them page by page. Under the asset division section, it explicitly stated that I willingly forfeited all joint marital assets and future medical alimony. Rebecca spoke up right on cue, her tone gentle and persuasive. “Nolan, signing this doesn’t mean you’re abandoning her.” “I can use all my performance bonuses to cover her physical therapy from now on.” “I just want you to start living your life again. Johns Hopkins still has that fellowship spot open for you.” Arthur set his whiskey down. He looked at Nolan’s visibly shaking hands. “You know exactly what a surgeon’s hands mean. If you keep living under this stress, you won’t even be able to hold a suture needle.” Nolan’s hand hovered over the table, gripping a pen. He stared at that crooked, shaky signature for a long, long time. Suddenly, he spoke. His voice was incredibly quiet. “When she signed this, did she know what it was?” The room went dead silent. Eleanor’s expression shifted nervously. Rebecca immediately tried to smooth things over. “Avery wants what’s best for you too. She doesn’t want to be a burden anymore, right, Eleanor?” Eleanor nodded vigorously. “She knows her own situation better than anyone.” Nolan held the pen. The tip hovered over the signature line for three agonizing seconds. Floating right above his head, my nonexistent heart clenched again. Finally, he put the pen down. “Let me think about it.” 3 Eleanor’s face darkened. She looked ready to explode, but Rebecca gently held her arm, giving her a warning look. After dinner, Nolan walked his parents to the door. Before stepping out, Eleanor turned back and hissed in a low voice. “She is going to drag you into an early grave.” Nolan said nothing and gently closed the door. He cleared the dining table alone. He folded the divorce settlement neatly and locked it deep inside a drawer in the TV console. When the living room fell completely silent, Nolan stood perfectly still for a long time. He walked into the kitchen and packed a thermal lunchbox. Crab-roe tofu, steamed bass, and a small bowl of sweet silver ear mushroom soup he had simmered himself. He carried the tray to the bedroom door and knocked three times. “Avery, are you asleep?” Silence. He assumed I was still giving him the silent treatment. He pressed his forehead against the wooden door. His voice was incredibly soft. “I’m sorry. I lost control of my temper this afternoon.” “That potassium chloride… I was out of my mind to do that. When I tossed that syringe at you, my hands were shaking so badly.” A long, heavy silence. He lightly thumped his fist against the wood. “When I drove past the theater today, the billboards were covered with Rebecca’s face. But all I could think about was that it should have been you up there.” He sniffled. “I was reading a paper in the medical journal recently. It’s about transcranial magnetic stimulation for phantom limb pain. The success rate is over sixty-seven percent.” “I already contacted a specialized team in Boston.” He pulled out his phone, scrolled to some screenshots, bent down, and slid them under the crack of the door. “Take a look. I’ve studied the science behind it, the tech is solid. If you’re just willing to try…” His voice broke. He sounded like he was on the verge of crying. “Can you please just give me a little more time?” The bedroom answered with a deathly stillness. His phone alarm buzzed. It was a reminder for an emergency appendectomy he was covering for a colleague tonight. The extra overtime pay would cover my nerve block treatments for next week. He stood up, resting his head against the door one last time. “I’ll bring you your favorite raspberry tart tomorrow morning.” On his way to the front door, he stopped by the TV console, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out the divorce papers. My soul held its breath. He stared at it for a few seconds, then ripped it to shreds and threw the pieces into the trash can. Ten minutes after Nolan left, the front door clicked unlocked. Rebecca walked in using her spare key. She marched straight to the bedroom door and slapped it hard three times. “Avery, I know you’re awake. Are you playing the victim game again?” No answer. She crouched down and pulled the printed medical screenshots out from under the door. She glanced at them, let out a mocking snort, crumpled the papers into a ball, and tossed them into the trash. Then she picked up the thermal lunchbox Nolan had packed and dumped the expensive seafood and soup straight into the garbage disposal. She noticed the torn divorce papers in the trash bin. Meticulously, she fished out the pieces, taped them back together, and laid the restored document flat on the coffee table. Leaning against the bedroom door, her voice turned venomous and quiet. “Do you know what his physical exam showed last month?” “Resting tremors in both hands. Suspected early-onset Parkinson’s.” “A brilliant surgeon, and his hands are shaking. He’s only thirty-three.” “This is all because of you.” My soul felt like it was being strangled. Parkinson’s? He never told me. “You refuse to eat, you refuse to talk, you threaten to kill yourself over every little thing. You think you’re the most tragic person on earth, don’t you?” “Do you ever think about how much he suffers?” “People like you are the most selfish. You always live the longest.” After delivering her poison, she curled up on the living room sofa, scrolling through her phone while waiting for Nolan to return. At two in the morning, the front door opened. Nolan walked in carrying a small pastry box. Seeing Rebecca asleep on the couch, he paused, then quietly draped a blanket over her shoulders. Rebecca woke up, rubbing her eyes. She noticed the pastry box in his hand. “Is that for me?” 4 Nolan shifted the box slightly behind his back. “No. It’s for Avery.” He walked toward the bedroom. Noticing the medical printouts were gone from under the door, he assumed I had pulled them inside to read. A faint look of relief washed over his face. “Baby, I brought you a raspberry tart. It’s still warm. Do you want a bite?” Still no movement inside. He let out a bitter chuckle. “Alright, get some rest. I’ll leave it right here by the door. Come grab it when you’re hungry.” Rebecca watched this with cold eyes. She pushed the taped-up divorce papers across the coffee table. “Why did you tear it up? Are you planning to torture yourself for the rest of your life?” Nolan glanced at her. His voice was low, bone-tired. “I told you. I am never divorzing Avery. Not in this lifetime.” Rebecca’s eyes instantly went red. She stood up abruptly, lunged at him, and pressed her lips forcefully against his. Nolan stumbled backward, but she locked her arms around his neck, refusing to let go. He tried to pry her off, but she was relentless. Frustrated, she intentionally stomped her heel right onto the pastry box sitting on the floor. As his attention splintered, she took advantage to deepen the kiss. Floating in mid-air, watching this unfold, my phantom heart twisted in agony. Nolan clamped his jaw shut tight, took a sharp breath, and shoved her away with brutal force. He didn’t spare a single second to care about Rebecca’s hurt feelings. He immediately dropped to his knees, carefully wiping the dust off the crushed pastry box, his face etched with guilt. Rebecca staggered back. A flash of bitter resentment crossed her face before she quickly morphed it back into a mask of pure grievance. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the spare key to the master bedroom. “You don’t believe me? Fine.” “Go ask her yourself. Ask her what she really wants! Let’s see who is the one dragging this out!” She shoved the key into the lock and twisted it sharply. The door clicked open. A suffocating, sickly-sweet odor, like rusted iron soaked in warm water, billowed out, mixing with the damp humidity of the bathroom. It hit them like a physical blow. Nolan’s pupils shrank to pinpricks. The crushed pastry box slipped from his hands, landing on the floor with a dull thud. He violently shoved Rebecca out of the way and bolted into the room. The bed was empty. The balcony was empty. He kicked the bathroom door open. His shoe splashed into a sticky, half-dried puddle. He looked down. It was a pale yellow fluid, streaked with the unmistakable dark stains of bodily decay.

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To marry into the Manhattan elite, I fabricated my entire existence. I scrubbed away the stench of being a degenerate gambler’s son and molded myself into an Oxford-educated prodigy. But even liars have real hearts. I shed my old skin for one reason alone. I wanted the right to stand beside Victoria Sinclair. I finally breached the gates of high society. I touched the untouchable upper crust. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I became elegant and refined enough, I could stay by her side forever. That was until the always-composed Victoria Sinclair threw a physical fit over a high-school dropout who worked at a hostess club, nearly coming to blows with a major business partner. She bled millions in lost contracts and didn’t even blink. To clean up her mess, I arranged a peace-making dinner with that partner. By pure chance, I heard a familiar voice drifting from the adjacent private dining room. “Victoria, your Mr. Perfect is probably busy wiping your ass right now, isn’t he? Tsk, what a devoted little housewife. Watching him try so hard to play the elite corporate shark just to smooth things over for you almost brings a tear to my eye.” “If you weren’t trying to dodge your family’s arranged marriage, there is no way you would have married a fraud like him.” “He’s a street rat who crawled out of a trailer park. Did he really think putting on a bespoke suit and dropping a few French phrases would actually change his bloodline?” A soft chuckle escaped Victoria’s lips. It was dripping with mockery. She knew. She knew I was faking it this whole time. And she had been faking it, too. 1 Standing outside that mahogany door, my chest felt like it had been hollowed out with a shotgun blast. “I heard his deadbeat dad just got out of prison. Want to make a bet? I give it three months before his old man comes knocking for cash. When that happens, our dear Kyle’s painstakingly crafted elite persona is going to shatter into a million pieces.” “I give it one month.” The voice belonged to Carter, Victoria’s childhood friend. “The whole Oxford backstory was a nice touch, but you just can’t hide that deep-rooted poverty. Have you seen the way he cuts his steak? He grips the knife like he’s murdering a personal enemy, terrified his etiquette isn’t textbook perfect. It is absolutely hilarious.” Victoria let out a low laugh. Her tone was completely indifferent. “I bet on a year. His ego is massive. To protect his little lie, he will probably figure out a way to exile his father back to the rust belt. He won’t let him show his face anytime soon.” She paused, letting out a soft sigh. “When my mother tried to force me to marry that braindead heir from the Gallagher family, I obviously refused.” “Kyle just happened to serve himself up on a silver platter. He might be a peasant, but he is clever. I needed a clever pawn to distract my parents. With them constantly warring with him, they naturally didn’t have the energy to micromanage me.” “Besides, watching him try so desperately to mimic old-money elegance every single day is actually quite entertaining.” The blood in my veins turned to ice. Victoria had known from the very beginning. All my late nights, all my grueling efforts, were nothing but a circus act for her amusement. A chorus of laughter erupted inside the room. Victoria suddenly hushed them. Through the crack in the door, I saw a young boy. He was curled up on the leather sofa behind them, fast asleep. He was draped in Victoria’s custom-tailored trench coat. He shifted slightly, and Victoria immediately ordered the room to silence. “Keep it down. Do not wake him up. He pulled a double shift at the club last night. He is exhausted.” Carter clicked his tongue, teasing her. “Come on, Victoria. He is a literal hillbilly. He’s as unrefined as it gets. What do you even see in him?” Victoria rested her chin on her hand, gazing quietly at the sleeping boy. “Compared to Kyle’s manufactured elegance, I prefer authenticity. A twenty-dollar thrift store shirt looks incredibly charming on him. He doesn’t bow down, and he doesn’t grovel. That is what attracts me.” Just as she spoke, the boy rolled over and woke up. He rubbed his sleepy eyes and clumsily sat up. “How did I fall asleep…” He carefully handed the coat back to Victoria. “Ms. Sinclair, thank you for covering my little brother’s medical bills. I swear I will pay you back every single cent…” “You do not need to pay me back.” “No, I have to. I refuse to owe anyone.” He bit his lower lip. His eyes were shining with a stubborn, fierce pride. Victoria’s lips curled into a smile. She tapped the tip of his nose. It was a gesture full of absolute adoration. “Alright, alright. I can never win an argument with you. How about this. Come work as my executive assistant. I will pay you ten thousand a month.” Oliver’s eyes lit up. “But I didn’t even finish high school. I don’t know the first thing about business…” “Degrees do not matter. You are a smart boy. You will learn.” He hesitated for a second, then nodded eagerly. My heart felt like it was being pierced by a sewing needle. A sharp, radiating pain filled my chest. That assistant position belonged to me. The official job posting for her executive assistant strictly required a Master’s degree from an Ivy League university. My family background was a fabrication. But my academic degrees were completely real. To earn that position, I had prepared for years. Victoria’s company had a major branch in Paris. She traveled there constantly. Terrified that she would find me unprofessional, I spent every waking hour mastering French and studying high-society etiquette. I lived my entire life in transit between tutors and classes. It turned out none of that mattered to her. Not in the slightest. For the first time, I realized you didn’t need to be brilliant to stand by her side. Victoria gently ruffled the boy’s hair. “For my assistant, a high school education is more than enough.” Oliver smiled shyly. Standing in the hallway, my hands and feet went completely numb. I could barely hold myself upright. I dragged my hollow body back to my own private dining room. 2 The business partner was still trying to humiliate me. He poured cheap vodka straight into a glass of expensive scotch. “If Mr. Kyle downs this glass right now, whatever bad blood Ms. Sinclair and I have will be wiped clean.” He flashed me a sleazy, arrogant smirk. Once, to secure a contract for Victoria, I drank until my stomach hemorrhaged. I nearly died on an operating table. This time, I was done being a fool. I took the glass from his hand and poured the liquor straight onto the carpet. “Mr. Gallagher, you and Ms. Sinclair can settle your own disputes. I have other matters to attend to. Excuse me.” Like a walking corpse, I returned to the Sinclair estate. My mother-in-law was sitting rigidly on the parlor sofa, her eyes closed in meditation. Hearing the door open, she did not even bother to look up. “Have you finalized the seating chart for tomorrow’s charity luncheon with the foundation directors?” “Also, for the family heritage gala next month, I had the butler email you the flight itineraries for the senior board members. Make sure you personally arrange their airport transfers.” “We allowed you to marry into the Sinclair family so you could maintain our public image. You must execute these duties flawlessly. Otherwise, what is the difference between marrying you and plucking a filthy illiterate beggar off the streets?” A filthy beggar. My chest throbbed again. I stood quietly in the foyer. I didn’t say a single word. I just turned and walked toward the grand staircase. “Halt! Are you deaf? Or was your basic breeding fed to the dogs?” I paused at the foot of the stairs. For the first time in five years, I did not turn around to face her. “Find someone else to do it. I am tired.” Behind me, Eleanor unleashed a torrent of vicious insults, but I tuned them all out. I slammed the bedroom door shut, sealing away the noise. Memories flooded my mind. I suddenly remembered the very first time I laid eyes on Victoria Sinclair. I was a broke college student working as a banquet waiter to pay my tuition. It was my first time stepping into the glittering world of the ultra-rich. I was terrified. I was trembling. I accidentally knocked over a guest’s glass, spilling champagne all over their suit. The man flew into a violent rage. He grabbed me by the throat, slammed me into the marble floor, and kicked me hard in the ribs. I was shaking from the agonizing pain. “You filthy street rat! Do you have any idea how much this suit costs? It is custom Italian couture! It costs seven figures! It is money a bottom-feeder like you couldn’t earn in three lifetimes!” I kneeled on the floor like a beaten dog, pressing my hands together, begging for forgiveness. My face was bleeding from his slaps. The blood mixed with my tears, turning my vision red. It was Victoria who stepped out of the crowd and saved me. “It is just a piece of fabric. There is no need to torture the poor boy over it.” Her tone was light, effortless, almost bored. The way her slender, beautiful fingers held the pen as she wrote a blank check for the man. I still remember it vividly. My heart pounded violently in my chest. It was the first time I truly understood the crushing weight of class disparity. I was a top-tier university student, yet just because I was born poor, they could grind me into the dirt like an insignificant ant. But I refused to be an ant. I wanted to be the master of my own fate. I wanted a beautiful life, and I wanted the woman standing in front of me. In that moment, a twisted mixture of lust and ambition gave birth to an absurd, desperate plan. I forged my origins. I spun a web of lies. All just to earn a ticket into her world. Just to stand as her equal. I eventually made it happen. But looking back now, I finally understood that I was nothing more than a game to Victoria. She did not love my hard-earned brilliance. Yet she was completely captivated by a high-school dropout from a nightclub. Just because he was authentic. Because he refused to bow down. It was hilariously tragic. I dialed my lawyer’s number and instructed him to draft a divorce settlement. I knew it was time to end this. I lay in bed, tossing and turning in the dark. 3 It was nearly midnight when Victoria finally came home. I heard Eleanor’s muffled complaints from the living room before Victoria walked upstairs. She carried the faint scent of sweet citrus. It must have been that boy’s cologne. She kicked off her heels and unbuttoned her blouse. “My mother said you gave her an attitude today. Go down and apologize to her later.” I lay there without moving. She gently patted my shoulder. “What is wrong, baby? You look like you’re in a terrible mood.” She leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. It was her usual gentle touch, yet I couldn’t feel a single trace of warmth. I forced myself to breathe evenly and replied, “It is nothing. I just don’t feel well.” “By the way, how did the dinner with Gallagher go?” “I didn’t fix it.” Victoria paused for a second. “That is fine. Drop it. We can just scrap the deal. I do not want you swallowing your pride for them.” A bitter laugh almost escaped my throat. I wanted to ask her, whose pride was she really trying to protect? But the words died on my tongue. “Alright.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. When I walked into the corporate office the next morning, the boy had already started his first day. His name was Oliver. Up close, he was even more handsome and youthful than he looked in that dim private room. But he was an absolute idiot. During the board meeting, he couldn’t even figure out how to project the presentation slides. His meeting minutes were an illegible disaster. Victoria was notoriously ruthless with her employees. Yet toward Oliver, she possessed an infinite well of patience. I endured the farce until the meeting ended. I followed Victoria into her private office to discuss a new project rollout. Oliver hovered nearby, pouring tea. With a clumsy twist of his wrist, boiling hot tea splashed directly onto my arm. Blisters instantly erupted on my skin. All the documents on the desk were ruined. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “How do you mess up pouring water?” He slammed the teapot onto the table. He didn’t say a word, but his face was a mask of sheer defiance and resentment. “Shouldn’t you be apologizing to me?” I asked him calmly, but my tone only made him defensive. “I didn’t do it on purpose! Why do you have to be so aggressive? Don’t think just because you have money you can bully me.” Standing beside us, Victoria looked at him with unmistakable admiration. Was this the fierce independence she loved so much? I was about to reprimand him, but she immediately grabbed my hand, stepping in to shield him. “He is young. He doesn’t have any corporate experience. Let me apologize on his behalf, okay?” My heart gave a violent tremor. I pulled my hand out of her grip. The incident was swept under the rug. After finishing our work discussion, I packed up to leave. Victoria suddenly cleared her throat. “I have a networking dinner tonight. Head home without me. Don’t wait up.” I knew her too well. She always cleared her throat right before she lied. “Okay.” Back in my own office, I pulled Oliver’s contact info from HR and added him on Instagram. Sure enough, just past eight o’clock, Oliver posted a new story. Victoria was sitting right there in his photo. They were eating at a dirty street-food stall. The table was covered in aggressively spicy greasy food. Next to their plates sat two cheap, sugary lemonades from a corner bodega. This was a woman who refused to drink coffee unless the beans were flown in from Yemen. Now, she was happily sipping a three-dollar lemonade. It was pathetic. I clicked onto Oliver’s profile. His sparse feed was suddenly dedicated entirely to Victoria. [My twentieth birthday. Ms. Sinclair bought me my first pair of Italian leather shoes! But I still prefer my worn-out sneakers haha.] [The CEO experiences a dive bar for the first time. She frowned the entire time but still peeled my crawfish for me!] The more I read, the tighter my chest became. Right then, my phone vibrated loudly. It was a text message from an unknown number. I glanced at the preview, and my stomach plummeted. …It was my father. He had just been released from prison. [Kyle, help your old man out. Did you really think you could strike it rich and cut me off?] [I am rotting in the gutter, and I will drag you down into the mud with me!] [Do not forget how you crawled your way into the Sinclair family. Give me half a million dollars, and I will keep my mouth shut.] I didn’t reply. My hands shook as I deleted the message. 4 I suddenly remembered the bet Victoria and her friends made in that private room. They placed bets on exactly when my facade would crumble. My father was a ticking time bomb. Sooner or later, that bomb was going to detonate. But I was exhausted. I was done living in constant, suffocating fear. If this lie was going to shatter, I wanted to be the one holding the hammer. Victoria didn’t come home until dawn the next day. She brushed it off, claiming she was stuck negotiating with clients all night. But I had already seen Oliver’s social media. There were no clients. She had hiked up a public trail with Oliver to watch the meteor shower. They spent the whole night looking at the stars, waiting for the sunrise. At the breakfast table, Eleanor spoke up. “The annual family gala is approaching. Kyle, you need to start the preparations.” The Sinclair family hosted a massive heritage gala every year. Every direct heir, distant cousin, and board member of the Sinclair dynasty attended. It was the single most important event on their social calendar. I listened to Eleanor and asked, “What is the exact date of the gala?” “The twentieth.” My phone buzzed relentlessly in my pocket. The blackmail texts were pouring in one after another. [You ungrateful brat! If you don’t reply right now, I am marching straight to your mansion!] I hesitated for a few seconds, then typed my response. [You want money? On the twentieth of this month, come find me at the Sinclair ancestral estate.] The days dragged on. The twentieth was rapidly approaching. Some people were stressed, while others were living a fantasy. Oliver’s Instagram updated daily. It was a meticulous diary of his romance with Victoria. Victoria skipped executive board meetings to drive him out to the suburbs to visit his sick grandmother. She spent her weekends experiencing the “working-class struggle” with him, wearing a ridiculous mascot costume to hand out flyers on the sidewalk. The two of them squatted on the curb, eating cheap hotdogs from a cart. Every photo, every caption was a poisoned needle driving straight into my heart. My father’s threatening texts continued to flood my phone. The messages grew increasingly vile. He called me a cheap whore, a sewer rat trying to feast with the royals. He told me I was born to die in the mud. The locked doors of my trauma were kicked wide open. I remembered his drunken rages. The way he beat me until my skin split open. He used to pin me to the dirty floor and force me to bark like a dog. He tied me up with extension cords and hung me from the ceiling pipes. My head felt like it was going to split open. The emotional pain made my physical body violently shake. I had to dig my fingernails into my palms until they bled, biting down on my teeth so hard they nearly cracked, just to maintain a blank expression. The twentieth was almost here. Money couldn’t save me anymore. This glamorous, glittering illusion couldn’t save me either. I had to crawl my own way out of this swamp. I had to save myself. The day of the gala finally arrived. The entire family was required to gather at the Sinclair ancestral estate in the Hamptons. Victoria’s Bentley was idling in the driveway. When I pulled open the passenger door, I froze. Oliver was sitting in the front seat. Victoria quickly explained, “I brought him along today to let him experience high society.” She turned to Oliver. “Move to the back seat. The front is for my husband.” Oliver bit his lip and tugged pitifully at Victoria’s silk sleeve. “Ms. Sinclair, I get terrible motion sickness. If I sit in the back, I’ll throw up…” Victoria’s heart melted instantly. “Kyle, why don’t you…” I didn’t say a word. I quietly closed the door and got into the back seat. The ride was dead silent. We finally arrived at the estate. Oliver looked exactly like I did when I first stumbled into this world. His eyes darted everywhere, terrified and shrinking into himself. But he was much luckier than I ever was. Victoria hovered over him like a protective hawk, shielding him from every judgmental stare. When a younger female cousin tried to flirt and offer Oliver a glass of champagne, Victoria silenced her with a lethal glare. “What are you doing? You already have a boyfriend. Trying to take my little assistant home as a side piece?” The cousin rolled her eyes. “Why not? Is that a problem?” Victoria instantly snapped her head back to look at me. She was checking to see if I had heard the exchange. Honestly, I was past the point of caring. I stared blankly at the antique grandfather clock against the wall, silently counting down the minutes. Finally, the estate manager rushed into the ballroom, looking frantic. He announced that an uninvited guest was causing a scene at the front gates. 5 As he spoke, his eyes kept darting nervously in my direction. “The man claims… he is here looking for the master of the house.” I spoke up, my voice perfectly flat. “Let him in.” The man who walked through the heavy oak doors was my father. His face was weathered and deeply lined. A cheap, unlit cigarette dangled from his lips. He was wearing a stained, torn flannel shirt. The soles of his work boots were peeling off. Victoria had run background checks on me. She instantly recognized his face from the private investigator’s files. She immediately flagged down the estate security. “Throw this man out!” “That won’t be necessary,” I said, stepping in front of the guards. “…What exactly do you think you are doing?” I looked Victoria dead in the eyes. “I told him to come today. I want to confess everything to your family.” Victoria’s face drained of color. She lunged forward to stop me. But it was too late. “My entire identity is a lie.” “My parents are not university professors. I am not an Oxford graduate. I am the son of a degenerate gambling addict. I have never even set foot in Europe. Every single thing I told you was a fabrication.” The grand ballroom erupted into absolute chaos. Eleanor looked like she had been struck by lightning. She was trembling violently, screaming at me, “Are you having a psychotic break?” “Eleanor, every word I am saying is the truth. If you don’t believe me, ask Victoria. She knows everything about me.” “From the very beginning, she knew I was a fraud. She sat back and watched me put on a show. She watched me play the elite prodigy, bleeding myself dry just to climb the ranks of your family.” I looked at Victoria and forced a smile. It probably looked more like a grimace. “Victoria, I lied to you, and you played me for a fool. I would say we are finally even.” Before the silence could settle, my father lost his patience. He spat on the polished marble floor. “Kyle, are you done running your damn mouth? You people can sort out your rich drama later! Give me my money!” I slowly turned my head and locked eyes with him. I spoke slowly, emphasizing every single syllable. “I don’t have your money. You are not getting a single cent.” “I just confessed everything to the Sinclair family. You no longer have any secrets to hold over my head.” “I have nothing left to lose. I am not afraid of you anymore. If you push me one more inch, I will drag us both to hell!” I pulled a pocket knife from my jacket and pointed the blade directly at him. The crowd shrieked in horror. Panic swept through the room. It was absolute pandemonium. But for the very first time in my life, I saw genuine fear flash in my father’s eyes. His lips quivered. He muttered curses under his breath, but he didn’t dare raise his voice. Right on cue, the estate security swarmed in. They grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the ballroom without another word. The remaining guests stared at each other in shock. The whispers grew louder, echoing off the high ceilings. “Everyone, please quiet down!” Victoria barked, her expression dark and dangerous. She glared at me. She looked like a lioness preparing to tear my throat out. “Kyle, you planned this. Pulling a stunt like this today… what exactly is your endgame?” I twirled the small pocket knife in my fingers. The blade was sharp. It slipped, slicing a shallow cut across my palm. Bright red blood welled up instantly. “I used to worship the life you people lived. I was willing to lie, cheat, and steal just to experience it for one second. Now that I have lived it, I realize it is entirely hollow. It is incredibly boring.” “When a person lives in a world that doesn’t belong to them, they will never find peace.” “I am exhausted. The illusion is broken. I just want it to be over.” “Let’s get a divorce, Victoria. I am done being a pet in your gilded terrarium.” I pulled off the blood-stained diamond wedding band and dropped it onto the marble floor. It let out a sharp, echoing clink. Her jaw locked tight. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. “A divorce? You conned me for years, and now you want out? If we divorce, you get absolutely nothing. You will walk away with the clothes on your back. I highly suggest you reconsider!” “My mind is made up.” I pulled the prepared divorce settlement from my inner pocket and handed it to her. Victoria was breathing heavily. Blinded by rage, she snatched the documents and ripped them in half. “You are not thinking straight. Once you sober up and calm down, we will talk.” “I am perfectly sober. I am divorcing you.” I looked at Victoria, my voice unwavering. “No matter what it takes, we are done.”

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1 The day I was supposed to take the bench as Chief Judge, I got myself arrested for a DUI on purpose. Sitting behind bars for three days, I perfectly missed the murder trial of my wife’s childhood sweetheart. Everyone who knew me shook their heads. They pitied me for throwing my brilliant career straight into the gutter. But sitting on that freezing iron cot, all I felt was absolute relief. In my past life, my wife forced me to use my authority to acquit her bastard of a childhood friend. I refused and sentenced the scumbag to death according to the law. My wife hated my guts for it. After the divorce, she pulled every string she had, whipping up a frenzy online and framing me for abusing my power for personal revenge. Overnight, I went from a rising star in the justice system to a rat crossing the street. Countless ignorant netizens doxed me. Death threats stuffed my mailbox. The abuse bled into my real life, suffocating me until my mental defenses completely shattered. I was driven to a dead end and jumped off a building. I opened my eyes, sucking in a lungful of rust-scented air. I had actually returned to the day before the trial. “Is that him? The high and mighty Chief Judge? A drunk driver?” “Breaking the law he’s sworn to uphold. Throw the book at him!” “Scum like him doesn’t deserve the robe. Sickening.” Accusations and curses washed over me like a tidal wave. I looked at the furious faces behind the police tape, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. If I hadn’t been pushed to the absolute brink, who would willingly smash the career they spent a decade building? In my last life, my principles got me killed. This time, I had run the chessboard through my mind a thousand times. This was the only way out of a dead end. It would be a lie to say my heart didn’t ache for what I was losing. Before I could process the heavy emotions, two uniformed officers slapped cold handcuffs onto my wrists with a sharp click. One of them roughly shoved my shoulder, preparing to force me into the back of the cruiser. Right at that moment, a middle-aged woman in a red coat broke through the crowd like a madwoman. She pointed a trembling finger right at my nose and screamed. “You heartless animal! My son was killed by a drunk driver like you!” “You’re a judge and you dare to drink and drive? Why don’t you rot in hell with my boy!” Her voice cracked and tore. Driven to the edge of grief, she lunged forward, her nails aiming straight for my face. Looking at her twisted, tear-stained features, my vision blurred for a second. A few years ago, I was the one who presided over her son’s tragic hit-and-run case. What a cruel joke of fate. The wheel turned, and now I was the one wearing the handcuffs. Seeing her claws about to reach my eyes, the younger cop quickly stepped in front of me. “Ma’am, please step back. You need to calm down.” “Calm down? How am I supposed to calm down!” Her shrieks pierced my eardrums. “Why does a piece of trash like him get to wear that robe? What gives him the right to sit up high and decide who lives and dies!” The crowd immediately echoed her anger. People shouted that someone so filthy had no right to judge others. The cops were overwhelmed by the boiling outrage. They finally managed to pull the despairing mother aside. Taking advantage of the gap, the other officer shoved me hard into the police car. The heavy door slammed shut with a thud. The chaos outside was instantly muted. The young cop climbed into the driver’s seat. He glanced at the angry mob outside, still shaken, then glared at me through the rearview mirror. His eyes were full of frustrated disappointment. He shook his head in disgust. “What the hell were you thinking? A Chief Judge, holding the biggest case of the year, and you go out and drive drunk? Is your brain rotted?” “Anyone who didn’t know better would think you did this on purpose to dodge the trial.” A sharp ache hit my chest. I had bled for this profession for ten years. Every bone in my body carried a deep reverence for the law. Who would actually throw that away? But I had no choice. I had to burn it all down to survive. Seeing me sitting there like a mute statue, the cop wisely shut his mouth. I leaned back against the leather seat and closed my eyes, but my mind ran wild, dragging me back to my previous life. My wife was Meredith. The man who caused the fatal crash was her childhood best friend, Blake. That night, the rain poured down in sheets. Visibility was zero. Blake was dead drunk. He slammed the gas pedal, ran a red light, and hit a pregnant woman, sending her flying across the intersection. Her husband was standing only a few feet away, forced to watch his beloved wife smash onto the asphalt like a broken doll. Bright crimson blood mixed with the rain, pooling rapidly under the pale streetlights. She died on impact. The eight-month-old baby, fully formed and ready to see the world, died right along with her. The tragedy detonated across the internet. Public fury boiled over, and every lawyer in the city was placing bets on how long Blake would rot in a cell. Fate played a sick joke, and the gavel was placed in my hands. The second the news broke, Meredith called me. She felt zero sympathy for the dead. She simply demanded I use my authority to get Blake off the hook. Those were two innocent lives. And Blake didn’t show a single ounce of remorse in court. He even smirked at the grieving husband. My bottom line as a judge made me reject Meredith’s insane demands without a second thought. Taking all the brutal evidence into account, I brought the gavel down and sentenced Blake to death. The day of the verdict, Meredith was eerily quiet. But that very night, she packed her bags and left. The next morning, a cold divorce agreement was slapped onto my desk. I was completely stunned. She looked at me like I was garbage. A venomous sneer curled her lips as she told me I didn’t deserve to be her husband. “Blake and I grew up together, and you actually dared to sentence him to death. You’re a cold-blooded monster!” “I asked you for one tiny favor and you pushed back. What’s next? Are you going to throw me in a cell too!” Her beautiful eyes were swimming with raw, unfiltered hatred. I almost laughed at her twisted logic. If I didn’t sentence him to death, how could I face the public? How could I face those two murdered souls? She refused to listen to a single word of my defense. She just spun on her heels and slammed the door behind her. I tried to salvage things, but she was a block of solid ice. Exhausted to my core, I signed the papers. I thought the nightmare was over and we would just go our separate ways. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The day after the divorce, a massive smear campaign buried me alive. Hordes of internet trolls came out of nowhere, spinning a narrative that I was jealous of Blake and Meredith’s relationship, claiming I handed down the death penalty out of pure spite. The killing blow was an audio clip leaked online. In it, my voice used the most vulgar words imaginable to curse Blake, threatening to kill him sooner or later. It was a masterful AI deepfake. Meredith was a top-tier visual and audio designer. She had plenty of connections with people who could fabricate reality perfectly. I tried to clear my name. A few rational voices actually took my side. But that afternoon, my trusted assistant posted a massive essay online. He tearfully accused me of abusing my power and accepting massive bribes. When my own right-hand man threw me to the wolves, the narrative completely spiraled out of control. Not a single person believed my innocence anymore. I naively thought the internet’s memory was short. I thought time would wash it away. But the hatred escalated into real-world violence. Bricks smashed through my windows at midnight. Dead rats were left on my windshield. The death threats seeped into every corner of my existence. My sanity finally snapped. On a quiet, early morning, I stepped off the edge of a thirty-story building. The agony of my bones shattering and my organs tearing from the sheer force of the impact was still burned into my soul. Opening my eyes again, only ice remained in my veins. Since God gave me a second chance, I would never let anyone use me as a stepping stone again. Three days later, I finally walked out of the precinct doors. The desk officer handed me my belongings in a clear plastic bag. I nodded in thanks. The second I turned on my phone, it vibrated like a cornered hornet. Over a hundred unread messages flooded the screen. I skimmed through them. Most were from Meredith. Every single word reeked of arrogant rage. “Where the hell are you playing dead? Text me back!” “You have three hours, or I’m dragging you to sign divorce papers!” “You think you’re so tough now? Ignoring my calls and my texts?” Because I hadn’t replied, her final messages softened just a fraction. “Today is Blake’s trial. You better remember what I said and make sure he walks free.” Seeing that last line, I couldn’t hold back a cold laugh. I had spent three peaceful days behind bars, and she was out here writing a whole script for my life. I ignored her garbage texts. Glancing at my Rolex, I saw the time was just about right. I hailed a cab and headed straight for the courthouse. Green lights all the way. Half an hour later, the cab pulled up across the street from the towering courthouse. I looked out the window. Blake’s crime was so brutal that the court had barred public entry to the trial. But that didn’t stop the outrage. The plaza in front of the building was packed tight with angry protesters, and reporters had their cameras lined up like a firing squad. My eyes scanned the chaotic crowd and locked onto two very familiar figures. Meredith and my son, Toby. They were standing on their tiptoes, craning their necks toward the heavy doors, panic written all over their faces. This was getting interesting. I pushed the car door open, a mocking smile playing on my lips. I shoved my hands in my pockets and stood on the sidewalk, quietly admiring their little performance. A few minutes passed. Maybe she felt my unapologetic stare, because Meredith suddenly whipped her head around. Our eyes clashed in the air. The moment she recognized my face, Meredith looked like someone had hit pause on a remote control. Pure, unfiltered shock flashed across her perfect face. She let go of Toby’s hand and practically sprinted across the pavement toward me in her heels. “What are you doing here?” A subtle tremor of panic laced her voice. Her eyes darted between the closed courthouse doors and my calm expression. Her throat tightened. “At this time, you should be sitting in…” She forced the rest of the sentence back down her throat. I looked down at her, my voice dead flat. “Where should I be?” She bit her lower lip hard, her face draining of color. The mockery on my face deepened. I dragged out the syllables, asking her the exact same question again. Her mask completely shattered. Her voice grew sharp and erratic. “You should be on the bench! Why are you sneaking around out here? Did you abandon your post again!” Her volume was loud, laced with a preemptive, defensive fury. A few curious heads were already turning our way. I didn’t care if anyone recognized me as the disgraced Chief Judge who got busted for drunk driving three days ago. Meeting Meredith’s furious, panicked gaze, I let out a slow, clear laugh. “What trial?” “Three days ago, I was locked up for a DUI. I just walked out of the precinct ten minutes ago.”

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