1 I was born able to see lies. When my sister married into old money, she set me up with a wealthy businessman. On our blind date, he claimed a net worth in the tens of millions. A soft green light glowed above his head, so I believed him. On my wedding day, my sister burst through the chapel doors, livestreaming. “She tried to be a gold digger but botched it. She’s marrying the CEO of a bankrupt shell company!” Guests whispered, the chat mocked. My life was destroyed. My sister went viral as a truth-exposer. Afterward, my husband beat me, screaming I’d ruined his life. I learned the truth: before the date, my sister had wired him ten million to start a company. That was why the green light appeared. Once engaged, she withdrew the funds and staged her livestream to avenge childhood humiliations. He eventually beat me to death. I woke back on the day of the blind date. This time, I accepted with a cold smile. But at the restaurant, the man was completely different. Figuring my sister had swapped actors, I sat down and went straight for the throat. “Do you have a billion dollars for pocket money? If not, we’re done.” He froze, lowered his teacup, and replied without missing a beat. “Sure. I do.” A soft ding echoed in my mind, and a bright green light illuminated above his head. … I stared at him, genuinely stunned. There was no way the mid-tier wealthy family my sister married into could casually toss around a billion dollars just to prank me. In my last life, that ten-million-dollar stunt was a massive gamble for her. She was entirely incapable of producing this kind of money. The man tilted his head, looking slightly confused. “Are you here to…” I pushed down the shock bubbling in my chest and steadied my voice. “I’m here for our blind date.” He let out a quiet “Oh” and nodded repeatedly. “Right, right, of course.” His reaction was completely off. It felt like he was just rolling with whatever bizarre situation I had thrown at him. I stared at his face for a few seconds, leaning slightly over the table to test the waters. “Wow, I thought they said this window seat was fully booked. How did you manage to reserve it?” He blinked, clearly caught off guard. Then, a wicked little smirk played on his lips as he lowered his voice. “It’s no big deal, really. I just paid the guy sitting here a hundred grand in cash to give up the table.” He probably thought that would scare me off as a ridiculous lie. But as he spoke, the green light above his head remained blindingly bright. He actually paid a hundred thousand dollars just to sit by the window. My mind was spinning. A total stranger who could casually drop a hundred grand for a view was absolutely not an actor hired by my sister. He wasn’t a plant. He was a legitimate, wildly wealthy man who had simply bought the table and accidentally hijacked my date! “You didn’t actually believe that, did you?” The man sitting across from me suddenly laughed, his eyes crinkling like a little boy who had just pulled off a great prank. “I’m just messing with you. Everything I just said was a joke.” The moment the words left his mouth, a massive, glowing red cross materialized over his head. Completely oblivious to his glowing lie, he kept talking. “Since this is a blind date, we should probably be honest about our backgrounds. To tell you the truth, I’m just like you. I’m a regular guy making three grand a month.” He sounded so incredibly sincere. I just smiled and listened, watching the glowing red cross hover above his head without flickering even once. It all made sense now. This guy was playing a reverse-Cinderella game. Since he had chosen to crash my date, he shouldn’t blame me for playing along. “Is that so?” I nodded sympathetically, giving him a warm smile. “Well, it sounds like we have a lot in common.” He visibly exhaled, the tension completely draining from his shoulders. I smoothly changed the subject, and over the course of our meal, I learned his name was Declan. He claimed to be a low-level clerk at a small logistics firm. I nodded along, taking mental notes while staring at the glaring red cross that punctuated every single sentence he spoke. The man was so filthy rich that the only thing he had left was his acting skills. As lunch wrapped up, I pulled out my phone and pulled up my contact code. “This was really fun. Want to add each other?” He paused, his gaze lingering on my face for a fraction of a second before he smiled and pulled out his own phone. “It really was. It’s been a long time since I’ve had such an easy conversation.” When I got back to my parents’ house, my sister Beth practically sprinted to the door to greet me. “So? How was it? How did the blind date go?” I smiled at her, offering my most genuine reply. “Thanks so much, sis. You really did introduce me to a wealthy man.” Beth froze for a second before her smile widened into something sharp and entirely predatory. “That is so great to hear,” she said, patting the back of my hand. “Hopefully you can marry into a good family too, and keep your big sister company in high society.” I didn’t say a word. I just kept smiling at her. She had no idea that the vicious trap she had spent months planning had been derailed from the very first second. Just then, my mother walked out of the kitchen carrying a plate of food. Catching the end of our conversation, she slammed the plate down on the dining table. “High society? Please. There is no way she’ll ever marry as well as you did, Beth.” She wiped her hands on her apron and shot me a disdainful glare. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, girl. A rich man isn’t going to settle for a boring bookworm like you.” I pressed my lips together and stayed completely silent. It had been this way since we were kids. Even though I always had the better grades and the better career, my parents only had eyes for Beth and her sweet-talking, manipulative charm. They constantly backed her up, pouring buckets of cold water over my achievements without a second thought. Beth nudged my mother’s arm with fake scolding. “Mom, don’t be so mean. What if my little sister really does transform into a swan? Everyone has their own destiny, right?” I turned around to head to my bedroom, catching sight of Beth rolling her eyes with utter disgust the moment she finished her sentence. As soon as I closed my bedroom door, my phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Declan. Are you free tomorrow? Want to hang out? Remembering I had a shift at the university the next day, I quickly typed back. Sure. Meet me at the north gate of St. Jude’s University. The following afternoon, I stood by the campus gates. From a distance, I spotted Declan pedaling toward me on a rented city bike. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt, his hair slightly tousled by the wind. He parked the bike and waved at me. “Sorry, did you wait long?” I chuckled, pointing at the rental bike. “Is this your usual ride?” “Yeah,” he nodded, looking completely natural. “It’s convenient and saves money.” The red cross immediately flashed above his head. I sneered internally. What a liar. He probably had a garage full of supercars to choose from every morning, but here he was, committing to the role of a struggling working-class citizen with Oscar-worthy dedication. “I’m a teaching assistant for a professor here. I have to run a tutorial session today,” I said, leading him toward the lecture halls. “Do you mind waiting a bit? I’ll be out as soon as I’m done.” He nodded and quietly took a seat in the very back row of the tiered lecture hall. The moment I stepped up to the podium, I pushed all the chaotic drama of my family out of my mind. Chalk in hand, I calmly broke down complex formulas for the hundred-plus students in the room. I kept the logic sharp and clear, occasionally throwing in a witty example that earned a wave of laughter from the crowd. The forty-five-minute session flew by. After class, students swarmed the podium, asking questions, begging for notes, and turning in late assignments. It took me nearly twenty minutes to finally break free. I packed my bag and jogged out to the hallway. Declan was leaning against the window sill, waiting for me. The afternoon sun streamed through the glass, casting a warm glow over his broad shoulders and the sharp angle of his jaw. When he saw me running over, he stood up straight and offered a soft smile. “Professor Sophie is pretty amazing,” he said, his eyes locked on mine. “I actually felt proud just sitting in the same room as you.” I froze. My parents had said those exact words to me at every academic awards ceremony I had ever attended since childhood. But every single time they said it, a glowing red cross would appear over their heads. Their praise was always empty, a social pleasantry they threw around for the cameras before forgetting about it five minutes later. They had never, not once, been genuinely proud of me. Hearing that familiar, hollow phrase again, I could only manage a bitter smile. But when I looked up, there was no red cross. Instead, a brilliant, steady green light was glowing above Declan’s head. The bright sunlight washed over his face, and his smile was entirely sincere. There was not a trace of performance in his eyes. My heart violently contracted in my chest. I ducked my head, hugging my textbooks a little tighter to my chest, and managed a hoarse whisper. “Yeah. Thank you.” Over the next few months, we saw each other constantly. We went to museums, public parks, and local farmers’ markets. He always rode his rental bike, and I took the bus. Sometimes, he would pull out a crumpled discount coupon and announce he was treating me to dinner. I would play along, gasping at what a great deal it was. “Well, making three grand a month means we have to be smart with our cash,” I would say. He would carefully fold the coupon and tuck it away. “Exactly. Especially since I still haven’t made rent this month.” I would nod in solemn agreement, staring at the blazing red cross flashing above his head while dipping my head to drink my soup, biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud. This man could lie through his teeth without his heart rate even spiking. If I didn’t have my gift, I would have fallen for it completely. But it worked for us. He played the struggling bachelor, and I played the naive girl. Back and forth, neither of us breaking character. It was the most relaxed I had ever felt with anyone. One evening, I was waiting for Declan outside a restaurant when a familiar, grating voice called out from behind me. “Sophie.” I turned around to see Beth striding toward me in a designer trench coat and stilettos. She wore a probing, fake smile. “I heard things are going really well with your blind date. I was just passing by and thought I’d check on your progress.” Her eyes darted past me, scanning the empty sidewalk. “Where is he? Didn’t he come with you?” My stomach dropped. I could not let them meet. If they did, this whole charade would blow up in my face. I opened my mouth to invent an excuse to get rid of her, but before I could speak, another voice called out. “Hey, did you wait long?” Beth turned, took one look at Declan, and let out a shrill shriek. “This isn’t the guy I set you up with! Who the hell is this?!” The air instantly froze. I opened my mouth, my brain scrambling for a lie to explain the mix-up. Part of me wanted to just tear the facade down right there and expose Beth’s sick setup. But before I could form a sentence, Declan stepped in. “You’re Sophie’s sister, right? Do you mind if we speak privately for a second?” They walked a few paces away. I quietly crept closer, hiding behind a decorative pillar to eavesdrop. Beth’s voice dripped with condescension. “Listen, since you’re the one dating my sister now, let’s make a deal. I will invest ten million dollars into a startup for you. How does that sound?” It was the exact same playbook from my last life. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. But then, I heard Declan let out a low, mocking chuckle. “Only ten million?” His tone was incredibly casual, like he was discussing the price of a cup of coffee. “I wouldn’t even get out of bed for a billion-dollar investment.” There was a brief silence before Beth exploded into hysterical laughter. “Are you serious right now?” she gasped, clutching her stomach. “Do you think there’s no penalty for being this completely delusional?” I cautiously peeked around the pillar. Above Declan’s head, the green light of truth was glowing. Steady, unwavering, without a single flicker. He was dead serious. To him, a billion dollars truly meant absolutely nothing. Beth treated him like a raving lunatic, laughing until tears ruined her mascara. Declan didn’t bother defending himself; he simply turned and walked into the restaurant. As soon as he was out of earshot, I watched Beth pull out her phone, her voice dripping with absolute triumph. “Yeah, Sophie didn’t fall into the original trap. But guess what? She actually went and found herself a total psycho with a billionaire delusion.” She giggled into the receiver. “Just wait. This is going to be an even better show than we planned.” Later that night, she sent me a text message. Hey sweetie! Your sister looked into that guy for you. He is totally solid. You should absolutely lock him down and marry him! I stared at the screen, reading her transparent lies. She wasn’t doing a background check out of the goodness of her heart. She had confirmed he was a “psycho” and was now desperately pushing me to marry him as fast as possible. She wanted the big wedding day. She wanted to stand in front of a crowd and expose me for marrying a pathological liar, using my humiliation as a stepping stone to build her own fame. Over the next year, Declan and I grew closer and closer. Meanwhile, Beth constantly harassed me. “So when is the big day? If things are stable, you need to hurry up and secure the bag. Don’t let him get away!” I never gave her a straight answer, just dragging the timeline out at my own pace. Until one evening, Declan took me to the coast. The sea breeze was fierce, the waves crashing violently against the jagged rocks and sending white seafoam into the air. I took a deep breath, facing the vast, endless ocean, and screamed. “I just want to be free!” The wind snatched the words from my lips, scattering them into the crashing waves. Declan turned to look at me, his voice cutting through the roar of the ocean. “Then I’ll be free with you.” Before I could even process what he said, he dropped to one knee on the damp sand. He pulled out a velvet box, revealing a ring with a diamond that caught the fractured, fading light of the sunset. “Take me with you. Let’s escape to freedom together. Will you?” He looked up at me. The wind was whipping his hair across his forehead, and his dark eyes reflected the fiery sunset and my own stunned face. As the words hung in the air, the green light bloomed above his head. His proposal was absolute, unadulterated truth. Every doubt I had ever harbored shattered into dust. I took a deep, trembling breath and reached my hand out to him. “Okay. Let’s get married.” The moment Beth caught wind of our wedding plans, she immediately weaponized the gossip. She spread the rumor that her little sister was marrying a “billionaire” to absolutely everyone in town. Extended family, nosy neighbors, old classmates I hadn’t spoken to in a decade, she made sure every single one of them received an invitation. She wanted the whole city to watch me marry into “high society.” Because the bigger the crowd, the more devastating her fake-busting livestream would be. In my previous life, pulling this exact stunt made her an overnight sensation. Wealthy socialites started paying her for appearances just to prove they had real money and weren’t afraid of her exposes. Beth and her husband used my destroyed life as a VIP pass into the upper echelon of society. On the day of the wedding, Declan and I stood at the altar. We had just finished our vows and were reaching for the rings. “Stop the wedding!” The heavy oak doors of the banquet hall flew open. Just like in my past life, Beth marched down the aisle, holding her phone up high. The camera was pointed directly at me, and I could already see the livestream chat scrolling wildly on her screen. She turned to the stunned crowd of guests, pitching her voice so the microphone would pick it up perfectly. “Sophie! I know you’ve always been jealous that I married a wealthy man, but you can’t just marry a con artist because you’re desperate for cash!” The banquet hall exploded into chaos. Guests were whispering frantically. People were craning their necks, and half the room pulled out their own phones to record the drama. “Is she serious?!” “I knew that guy claiming to have a billion dollars was totally full of it! How could she be stupid enough to marry him?” “This is so humiliating. She tried to climb the social ladder and fell flat on her face.” Faced with the exact same nightmare from my previous life, I kept my voice dead calm. “Where is your proof?” In my past life, she had produced bankruptcy papers for the shell company she had funded. The hired actor had checked his phone, realized his company was ruined, and completely lost his mind, tearing the wedding venue apart with his bare hands. The video of that meltdown circulated the internet for a year. I became a local laughingstock. I couldn’t leave the house, I was forced to quit my job, and I lived in a nightmare of public shame until my husband eventually beat me to death. This time, Beth held up a crisp white document, waving it like a victory flag. “I had my husband use his corporate connections to run a deep-dive background check on this guy. Declan’s total verifiable assets? Zero!” She handed the paper to the relatives in the front row, encouraging them to pass it around. “Take a look! Read it yourselves! I am not making this up to ruin her day, I am protecting her!” The relatives huddled over the document, their voices rising in a mocking crescendo. “Holy crap, it really says zero…” “A billion dollars, huh? Dude couldn’t even lie convincingly!” “Well, this is streaming to the whole internet now. What an absolute disgrace.” Beth shoved the phone camera right into Declan’s face, her smile practically splitting her cheeks. “Oh, Sophie! Didn’t your amazing husband say a billion dollars was pocket change to him?” The room erupted into cruel laughter. The comments on the livestream were moving so fast they were a blur. A billion is pocket change? LMAO. Not even Arthur Hawthorne talks like that. This chick is psychotic for money. They belong in an asylum together! Absolute delusion. Someone call the psychiatric ward. Beth stood in the center of the aisle, her chin tilted up, unable to hide the euphoric grin on her face. She was waiting for us to snap. She was waiting for me to break down in hysterical tears so my ruined wedding could crown her the queen of the internet. The document was eventually passed to me. I glanced at it. It was a standard background check, citing his assets as untraceable, effectively listing them as zero. I opened my mouth to speak, but Declan stepped in front of me, shielding me from the cameras. His posture was entirely relaxed. He didn’t look remotely threatened by the circus unfolding around him. He looked at Beth and offered a cool, amused smile. “You spent a whole year setting this trap, and this cheap piece of paper is all you managed to dig up?” Beth’s triumphant grin faltered for a second. She pointed a manicured finger at his chest. “What trap! Stop talking nonsense!” “Well,” Declan mused, adjusting his cuffs, “I suppose it really is time for my dear sister-in-law to officially meet my family.” He turned his head to look at me, his dark eyes suddenly entirely serious. “Once you know the truth, please don’t leave me. You have to believe that I truly love you.” He lowered his voice, gently cupping my face. “Okay?” The green light illuminated above him, bright and warm. I looked into his eyes and gave a firm nod. Declan turned back toward the aisle and gave a sharp hand signal to someone in the shadows. The massive LED screen behind the altar suddenly blazed to life, bathing the entire banquet hall in harsh white light. The room went dead silent. Hundreds of heads turned in unison to stare at the screen. Beth was standing dead center, the first one to read the document projected in massive letters. Her smug smile completely shattered. She stumbled backward, clapping a hand over her mouth. “This… this is impossible!” I frowned, wondering what could possibly be on that screen to warrant such a dramatic reaction. I turned my head to look.

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1 On the third day of the new semester, my desk mate Sally suddenly offered to buy the rundown corner store my grandmother left me. And she was offering a ridiculously high price. She slid a transfer contract across the desk, right in front of my face. “Lorene, I know things have been incredibly tough for you. Don’t worry. Just sign this contract, and I will wire the money to your account immediately.” I looked at this girl I had only known for three days with genuine gratitude. I was desperately strapped for cash. My grandmother’s medical bills had completely drained our savings, and I even had to borrow money just to cover her funeral expenses. Tomorrow was the absolute final deadline to pay my college tuition. I picked up the pen, fully intending to sign. But right at that moment, rows of glowing, ethereal text began floating across my field of vision. [Hell yes! Our precious Sally is about to secure her Doomsday Cheat Code! The extreme heat apocalypse drops in exactly three days, and her journey as the savior of humanity begins!] [It is what it is. Sally is the reincarnated leading lady. Only she knows that the crappy little corner store is actually a host for the Doomsday Supply System. She is going to save the world.] [Too bad Lorene is just cannon fodder. She takes the money, gets robbed that very same night, and drops dead on the third day of the apocalypse.] My hand jerked violently. The pen clattered onto the desk. Three days? A heat apocalypse? A system? I stared into Sally’s warm, compassionate smile and slowly pushed the contract back toward her. “I am sorry. The store is not for sale.” … Sally reached out and grabbed my hand, her eyes swimming with manufactured sincerity. “Lorene, are you worried about something?” “If you think the price is too low, we can absolutely negotiate.” “How about eighty thousand?” “If eighty is not enough, I can do a hundred thousand.” “I really just want to help you out.” Preston, the class president sitting right behind us, leaned forward to chime in. “Lorene, that is an astronomical amount of money for a shack.” I pulled my hand out of her grip and looked at her, my voice dead calm. “It is a crumbling brick building on the absolute edge of town. Why would you sink a hundred grand into that?” The moment I asked the question, the floating text panicked even harder than Sally did. [Holy crap, what is wrong with the cannon fodder? Is she suspecting Sally?!] [This deviates from the plot entirely! Lorene is supposed to hand over the cheat code without a second thought.] [Wait, did Lorene reincarnate too?!] Sally’s eyes darted around nervously. “I just always had a childhood dream of running a little corner store.” “Well, that is a real shame.” “My grandmother left that place to me. I plan to keep it for the sentimental value.” Sally clenched her fists, forcing a strained, bitter smile. “It is fine. Just think it over.” By the time the morning period ended, I could hear the whispers echoing behind my back. “I heard Lorene’s grandma left her some trashy bodega. Sally offered her a hundred grand for it, and she actually said no. She is so full of herself.” “Right? Who refuses a hundred grand for a dilapidated shack? She doesn’t know a good thing when it hits her in the face.” Sally, however, walked right up to the gossiping students, looking incredibly righteous. “Guys, please don’t speak about Lorene that way. She just lost her grandmother. She is grieving.” “Sally, you seriously have a heart of gold.” The students crowded around her, showering her with praise. I completely tuned them out, slinging my backpack over my shoulder and walking straight out of the school. I had to change my fate. I refused to be a nameless casualty three days from now. My grandmother’s store sat in a forgotten, rusting neighborhood on the outskirts of the city. The rolling metal security gate was eaten alive by rust. The windows were secured with thick iron bars, leaving only a small service hatch for passing goods through. I pulled out my keys and unlocked the heavy door. The shelves were practically bare, holding only a scattered assortment of stale snacks and warm sodas. The floor was cracked, unpolished concrete. My grandmother guarded this little square of the world for her entire life. And I had lived in the back room for eighteen years. I grabbed a feather duster and started sweeping away the grime. I wiped down the wooden counter, pausing when my hand brushed against the ancient, mechanical cash register she had used for decades. The moment my skin made contact, a mechanical voice echoed inside my skull. [Ding. Doomsday Supply System in standby mode.] [Activation Quest: Achieve $10,000 in sales revenue within 72 hours. Current progress: $0.] [Failure Penalty: System self-destruction.] [Countdown: 71:59:58.] [Friendly Reminder: Upon successful activation, the host will unlock the Climate Control Module, Defense Barrier, and the System Marketplace.] [Wait, how did Lorene trigger the system quest?!] [Triggering it is completely useless. Ten grand in three days? Nobody can pull those numbers out of a dying corner store.] [Exactly. In her past life, Sally literally abandoned all profit margins just to barely scrape by and complete the quest. A background character like Lorene knows absolutely nothing about aggressive marketing!] Reading the floating text, a smirk crept onto my face. I would gladly steal a page from my predecessor’s playbook. I slashed the prices into the dirt, entirely abandoning the profit margin. Spend twenty bucks, get a free carton of eggs. The elderly folks in the neighborhood were seasoned bargain hunters. The news of a massive liquidation sale spread like a wildfire. “The Lorene girl lost her mind! Everything is being sold at wholesale cost!” “Hurry up and grab a basket! She’s giving away free eggs!” “Are these gallons of water really a dollar? Load ten of them into my trunk!” “I am taking all the toilet paper!” By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, my inventory was completely decimated. In just half a day, my revenue hit $2,365. [You have got to be kidding me. Lorene’s clearance sale was way too successful.] [At this rate, she might actually clear the quest.] [Relax. This is the leading lady’s golden ticket. There is no way a doomed side character can hold onto it.] As soon as the sky turned a pale gray the next morning, I drove straight to the wholesale distribution center to restock. Eggs, bottled water, toilet paper, laundry detergent. As long as the price was rock bottom, the locals were more than happy to stockpile. I was running around the store like a maniac. I was ringing up customers, making change, hauling heavy boxes, and restocking shelves, wishing I could magically sprout six extra arms. “Hey! Let me help you with that!” I turned around to see Lily, the teenage girl from the house next door. She was fifteen and incredibly sweet. Lily rolled up her sleeves and immediately jumped behind the counter to assist me. [Whoa! Isn’t that the little sister of Jaxon, the ultimate villain???] [He definitely sent her to spy! They want to steal the store!] [Absolutely. In the novel, Jaxon is a cold-blooded killer. There is no way his sister is just being nice.] I glanced at the text and rolled my eyes. What kind of ultimate, cold-blooded villain works himself to the bone at a grease-stained garage just to pay for his little sister’s high school tuition? Just then, a gleaming white BMW pulled up to the curb. Sally stepped out, her designer leather shoes clicking against the cracked pavement. “Lorene. Business looks booming.” She scanned the empty shelves, her smile completely hollow. “It looks like you are overwhelmed. If you really don’t want to sell, I can come on board as an investor.” “No thanks. I am good.” I cut her off without a second of hesitation. Sally finally dropped the sweet, innocent act. “Lorene, you are a stubborn piece of work!” She stepped back onto the sidewalk and pulled out her phone. A few minutes later, a beat-up cargo van screeched to a halt in front of the store. Four or five heavily tattooed thugs jumped out, swinging aluminum baseball bats. They formed a blockade right in front of the entrance. “What are you looking at? The store is closed! Anyone who tries to buy something is getting their legs broken!” The customers waiting in line screamed and scattered in every direction. Lily trembled uncontrollably, gripping the fabric of my shirt. “Lorene, what do we do?” “Call the cops. I will go talk to them.” Society had not collapsed yet. We still lived in a world with laws. [This side character is openly defying the reincarnated heroine. She is brain-dead!] [Am I the only one who thinks Sally bringing goons to force a buyout is kinda gross?] [Wait, why do these thugs look so familiar?] I marched out the front door, meeting Sally’s arrogant glare head-on. “Sally, we live in a civilized society.” “Blocking my business in broad daylight? Do you really think you are above the law?” Sally laughed like she had just heard the funniest joke in the world. “Civilized society?” “Lorene, it will not be a civilized society for much longer. You suddenly refuse to sell, and now you are liquidating your inventory like a maniac.” “Did you figure something out?” I stared at her with a blank expression. “I have no idea what you are talking about.” Sally waved her hand at the thugs. “Since she wants to do this the hard way, smash the place.” I clenched my fists and stood squarely in the doorway. “This is my property! You have absolutely no right to do this!” Before the thugs could take a single swing, police sirens wailed down the block. Two patrol cars slammed their brakes at the intersection. “Drop the weapons! Hands behind your heads! Get on the ground!” Sally’s face drained of all color. The thugs looked at each other in sheer panic, completely caught off guard by the rapid police response. I pointed straight at Sally. “Officers, she brought an armed gang to terrorize my customers and threatened to destroy my business.” Sally instantly shifted into a terrified, weeping victim. “Officers, I didn’t do anything, I swear.” “Save it for the precinct.” The cops took one look at the baseball bats and the terrified neighbors peeking out of their windows, and immediately shoved the thugs into the back of the cruisers. I watched coldly as Sally was forced into the back of a police car. She glared at me through the window, her eyes practically bleeding with pure hatred. [Holy shit! The protagonist called the cops?! That is so dirty!] [Are you kidding me? That is a normal human reaction. If a gang blocks your door, calling the cops is the only logical move.] [Oh my god, I just remembered! In the original timeline, Lorene agreed to sell the store, and these were the exact same thugs who robbed her of the cash that night!] My hands curled into tight fists. Sally never intended to buy my store. She planned to forcefully take it and steal her own money back on the very same night. Because I had to go to the station to give a statement, I asked Lily to watch the store for me. By the time I walked out of the precinct, the sky was pitch black. I sprinted back to the neighborhood. From a block away, I could see the warm fluorescent lights glowing from the store. A line of customers was still waiting at the service window. A tall, lean figure stood behind the counter, reaching down to hand a customer a case of water. Lily was standing right beside him, managing the cash register with a bright smile. I stopped on the sidewalk, completely stunned. “Lorene!” Lily spotted me and came running. “Is everything sorted out?!” I nodded. Sally and her hired muscle were going to be sitting in a holding cell for at least a few days. Jaxon looked up from the counter, his voice gruff and quiet. “You’re back.” “Yeah, I’m back.” “Thank you guys for holding down the fort.” I walked behind the counter, grabbed a massive plastic bag, and stuffed it full of bottled water, bread, and non-perishable snacks. I shoved it directly into Jaxon’s chest. Jaxon recoiled like he had been struck by lightning, aggressively refusing to take the bag. I grabbed him by the collar of his worn-out shirt and forcefully looped the bag’s handles over his neck. “It’s for Lily! Stop arguing with me!” Jaxon froze. He didn’t push it back this time. He just gave a stiff nod, grabbed Lily’s hand, and practically fled the store in embarrassed silence. The floating chat went absolutely nuclear. [What the hell am I watching?! The ultimate villain was covering a retail shift for the protagonist?!] [Did you see him?! He was blushing! His ears were bright red! Tell me I’m not crazy!] [What is going on with the villain? I thought he was a ruthless killer! He acts like a shy golden retriever!] I read the text and couldn’t help but smile. These comments were getting more ridiculous by the minute. I kept the store open until past ten o’clock. After washing up and lying in bed, I ran the numbers in my head. Five thousand, three hundred dollars. I only had a day and a half left. I was short by four thousand, seven hundred. If my luck held out, I could hit the goal tomorrow. The next morning, I woke up suffocating. I checked my phone. It was exactly 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And it was only six in the morning. The oppressive heat did have one massive advantage. Bags of ice and cold drinks were flying off the shelves faster than I could stock them. Right in the middle of the morning rush, a sleek government vehicle parked outside. Two men in crisp uniforms stepped out. “Hello. We received a tip that you are operating a commercial business without a valid license.” My stomach dropped. I quickly dug out my grandmother’s heavily stamped business permits and handed them over. The inspectors scrutinized the papers, confirmed everything was legal, and left. I let out a heavy breath and went right back to selling. By mid-afternoon, the temperature had violently spiked to 104 degrees. This time, a car from the Department of Health and Safety pulled up. “We received a severe complaint that you are selling dangerously expired food products. We need to conduct a comprehensive sweep of your inventory.” I stepped aside, letting them tear through the store. I had sold off all the ancient inventory days ago. Everything on the shelves was fresh off the wholesale trucks. [Business permits, health inspectors. Sally is trying to bury Lorene alive!] [Isn’t the leading lady being a bit too evil?] [Shut up! The era of the morally perfect heroine is over! The cheat code rightfully belongs to Sally. Lorene has no right to hijack it.] I knew Sally was pulling strings from her holding cell, but I didn’t have the luxury of fighting back right now. My only priority was pushing the revenue over the finish line. I closed the shutters that night and counted the cash. Because of the two forced closures for the inspections, my revenue stalled at $8,516. I was $1,484 short. And I only had twelve hours left. Before the sun even rose the next morning, I took every last dollar to my name and made one final wholesale run. By the time I got back, the sun was radiating a toxic, lethal heat. I didn’t even pause to drink water. I threw the shutters open and started selling. [Countdown: 04:32:18] Mornings were never a peak time for sales, and the abnormal, terrifying heat kept the streets entirely deserted. I had no choice. I stood on the blistering sidewalk, waving down the few cars that drove past. Sweat poured down my chin in thick drops, plastering my shirt to my back. Three agonizing hours dragged by. The revenue crawled to $9,500. I needed five hundred dollars. Just then, a small, fragile silhouette stumbled down the pavement. “Lorene… I…” Lily’s face was flushed a dangerous, bright red. Her lips were bone white, and her eyes were rolling back into her head as she swayed dangerously. I rushed forward and caught her just as her knees gave out. “Lily?!” “I feel so dizzy…” Her skin was burning like a furnace. She was suffering from severe heatstroke. [Why did she have to show up now! Lorene only needs five hundred dollars!] [Ignore her! There is only an hour left! If she doesn’t hustle, the system self-destructs!] [Are you guys psychotic? It’s a human life. If Lorene leaves her on the concrete, the kid will literally die.] I hauled Lily into the back room of the store. I dunked a towel into a bucket of ice water and pressed it to her forehead. I dug through my emergency kit, forcing her to swallow an electrolyte solution. Lily finally stopped trembling and regained a sliver of consciousness. I asked for Jaxon’s number and called him, telling him to get here immediately. By the time I stood up and checked the system clock, there were only forty minutes left. That was when the overwhelming stench of gasoline flooded my nostrils. Sally was standing on the sidewalk, holding a massive red plastic jug. A twisted, psychotic grin stretched across her face as she splashed fuel against the brick walls of the store. [Oh my god! If Sally can’t have the store, she is going to burn it to the ground!] [Lorene is finished! Even if she doesn’t burn to death, she fails the quest!] [Jaxon is rushing back right now. Is he going to ruin Sally’s master plan?] I rushed to the front door, only to find a heavy steel padlock clamped over the outside handles. I was caged in. Sally walked up to the iron bars of the service window, holding a silver lighter. “You are running out of time, Lorene.” “Transfer the deed to my name right now, or I will turn you and this shack into ashes.” My brain was running at a million miles an hour. My palms were slick with cold sweat. I opened my mouth, intending to verbally agree just to stall for time, but a blaring red warning flashed across my vision. [Warning! The Host is strictly forbidden from transferring ownership of the system host structure in any capacity. Violation will result in immediate revenue reset.] I snapped my mouth shut. I couldn’t even lie to her. “I am not selling.” “This store belongs to me. You have tried to destroy me over and over again. Do you really think I am just going to roll over?” I spun around, grabbing the heavy compound hunting bow I had hidden beneath the counter yesterday. I aimed the steel-tipped arrow right through the service hatch, pointing it directly at her chest. “If you spark that lighter, I will put an arrow through your heart.” Sally took a hesitant step back. “Lorene, do you have any idea what you are doing?” “If you don’t give me this store, the extreme heat apocalypse will arrive, and millions of people will die because of your greed!” I stared down the shaft of the arrow, my eyes locked on hers. “Whatever you think you can do, I can do just as well.” [She is right! If Sally hadn’t sabotaged her all week, Lorene would have crushed the goal days ago!] [What the hell are you talking about?! This system belongs to Sally! She is the chosen one!] [Exactly. The plot is totally broken! Lorene is a virus in the timeline!] “Fine! You brought this on yourself, Lorene!” Sally’s face contorted into a mask of pure malice. She flicked the lighter and tossed it straight into the puddle of gasoline at the base of the wall. The fuel ignited with a deafening whoosh. A wall of orange flames rapidly scaled the brick exterior. The temperature inside the cramped store instantly spiked to suffocating levels. “Lorene! It’s on fire! What do we do!” Lily grabbed my hand, sobbing in sheer terror. I pulled out my phone, dialing the fire department. Just then, the roaring engine of a motorcycle tore down the street. Jaxon threw his bike to the asphalt, his eyes widening in horror as he saw the flames. I glanced at the system clock. Ten minutes left. A crazy, desperate idea flashed through my mind. I grabbed the laminated QR code for my digital storefront, reared back, and hurled it through the iron bars of the service window. “Jaxon! Scan the code and buy five hundred dollars worth of inventory! Do it right now!” He froze, staring at me through the flames. “What?” “There is no time to explain! Just send me five hundred dollars! Hurry!” The reflection of the fire danced in Jaxon’s dark eyes. He didn’t ask another question. He pulled out his phone. Sally shrieked like a banshee and threw herself at Jaxon. “Don’t you dare scan that!” “Back off!” I released the bowstring. The arrow tore through the air, slicing deeply into Sally’s shoulder before she could reach him. She collapsed to the pavement with a scream. Jaxon’s phone screen lit up bright green. Payment Received: $500.00. A cascade of beautiful, crystalline chimes rang through my head. [Ding! Revenue Goal Achieved!] [Doomsday Supply System officially activated.] [Booting core mechanics…] [Defense Matrix initialized.] [Climate Control initialized.] [System Marketplace initialized.]

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1 I was paralyzed by choices, so for three years of marriage, Nolan decided everything for me. Quit your job, skip the reunion, don’t invite your mom. Each time I hesitated, he’d ruffle my hair. “What would you do without me? You’d overthink yourself to death.” His tone carried quiet pride, like he’d tamed an obedient stray cat. Until spring cleaning, when I found a three-year-old boarding pass to Chicago, the city where I’d been offered a lucrative job. The departure date matched the day he’d held my face and said, “Stay here with me.” But the passenger name was Stella, my best friend. I stared at that crumpled paper for a long time. Then I made the fastest decision of my life. I called a lawyer and booked a one-way ticket to Iceland. He always said I couldn’t survive without him. But sitting on the closet floor, it hit me: the things that made me hesitate were never the choices themselves. It was the man beside me, the one who never listened to what I wanted, yet forced me to let him choose. … I folded the boarding pass along its original creases and shoved it back into the bottom of the dusty manila envelope. The sound of the front door unlocking echoed through the hall, followed immediately by Nolan’s voice. “Honey, I’m home.” He kicked off his shoes, wrapped his arms around me from behind, and rested his chin on my shoulder. His tone was as warm and steady as it had been for the last three years. “What are you craving tonight? Actually, never mind, you definitely won’t be able to pick. I’ll just cook.” In the past, I would have leaned back into his chest with a smile. He picked our restaurants. He ordered my food. He rejected the people I didn’t want to see. He took all the complicated, messy intersections of my life and paved them into one straight, smooth road. But right now, his words felt like a rusty nail driving straight into my skull. I gently pried his fingers off my waist. “I’m going to get some water.” Nolan didn’t notice the shift. He casually tossed his coat over the back of the sofa and headed toward the kitchen. “I’ll make that beef and tomato stew. You said it wasn’t bad last time.” I followed him to the kitchen doorway, watching him expertly turn on the stove, wash his hands, and tie his apron. He really looked like the perfect husband. He cooked. He remembered my taste in food. He stepped up to make decisions the second my brows furrowed. I backed away, retreating into the living room. I pulled out my phone, opened the banking app, and tapped into the credit card statement tied to our joint account. The transfer history loaded on the screen, line by agonizing line. The fifteenth of every month. A fixed, massive amount. Recipient: Stella. Memo: Mortgage. It started the very first month we got married and hadn’t missed a single payment since. I stared at the word mortgage, the rim of my glass pressed hard against my lips. I couldn’t swallow a single drop of water. The sizzle of oil hitting the pan echoed from the kitchen. Nolan called out to me. “Come here and taste this. Does it need more salt?” I locked my phone screen and walked over. The hot steam from the stew hit my face, and suddenly, a memory from three years ago violently superimposed itself over the simmering pot. Stella had dragged two massive suitcases into our living room, laughing brightly as she announced she was moving to Chicago to make it big. I had been crouching on the floor, helping her fold her sweaters, while Nolan hauled her heavy bags down five flights of stairs. He had grinned, wiping sweat from his brow. “Stella’s got guts. Packing up on a whim. Not like my girl here, who takes thirty minutes just to pick out a dress.” Stella had doubled over with laughter. “Come on, Nolan, don’t be mean to Audrey. You’ve just spoiled her rotten.” I had laughed along with them. Only now did the pieces finally click into place. The city where I had received that massive job offer was Chicago. That was the same week Nolan had gripped my hands, begging me to stay, telling me long-distance would ruin us, promising he would provide for me. I truly believed he just couldn’t bear to lose me. A spoonful of hot broth sat on my tongue, turning to ash in my mouth. I couldn’t swallow. “Spacing out again?” Nolan tapped his knuckles gently against my forehead. “You look pale.” His eyes held that same familiar look. Gentle. Utterly certain of his control over me. “It’s nothing. Just a little tired.” His voice softened instantly. “Then stop stressing over useless things. I’m here. You never have to worry about a thing.” I gave him a quiet hum of agreement. Late that night, after Nolan’s breathing evened out into a deep sleep, I curled up under the duvet and texted my lawyer. “Run a full check on Nolan’s post-marital asset flows. Pay special attention to real estate in Chicago.” A bitter, suffocating rot began to spread in my chest. It wasn’t until the next morning over coffee that I finally asked the question. “Nolan, how is Stella doing lately?” His hands paused for a fraction of a second while tying his tie. “No idea. Didn’t you two drift apart ages ago? Stop worrying about people like that.” I just looked at him. “Really?” He turned, leaning down to press a soft kiss to my forehead. “Stella is selfish, babe. She hasn’t been your kind of people for a long time, remember? I was the one who told you to keep your distance.” Of course I remembered. He had sat me down and said, “It’s actually a good thing Stella left. Now you only have me. Saves you the headache of choosing who to hang out with on weekends.” He told me to cut contact, so I deleted her number. He told me I couldn’t survive without him, so I genuinely believed I was helpless. The moment Nolan left for the office, my phone rang. It was the lawyer. “Audrey, your husband owns a property in Chicago. It was purchased three years ago, and the down payment came directly from your joint account.” I gripped the phone, my throat completely dry. “Is he the sole owner?” I heard the rustle of papers flipping on the other end. “No.” The lawyer paused. “There’s a co-owner on the deed. Her name is Stella.” A gust of wind blew in from the balcony, rustling the leaves of the lush Monstera plant Nolan kept by the window. That plant was Stella’s housewarming gift the year we got married. For three years, I watered it twice a week. I repotted it three times. I meticulously trimmed away every single yellowing leaf so it could thrive. The lawyer was still talking, asking how I wanted to proceed. I stared at the wildly overgrown Monstera and let out a dry, breathy laugh. “Set up a face-to-face meeting for me. As soon as possible.” I hung up. The living room was dead silent, save for the leaves shivering in the wind. There was a sticky note pressed onto the coffee table. Nolan had left it before walking out the door. “There’s oatmeal in the fridge. Don’t skip breakfast.” I snatched the note, slowly crushing it into a tight paper ball before tossing it into the trash can. I pulled open the fridge. The Tupperware container of oatmeal was still lukewarm. Sprinkled on top was a generous layer of crushed almonds. I stared at those nuts, a dark sense of amusement bubbling up in my chest. During our first year of marriage, he made me a bowl of almond porridge. My lips swelled up, my throat closed, and he had to rush me to the ER. The doctor told him I was severely allergic to almonds and could never touch them again. From that day on, Nolan remembered every single detail of my diet. He knew I hated cilantro. He knew I took my coffee with exactly half a sugar packet. He knew what kind of tea to brew when my period cramps got bad. Yet somehow, he conveniently forgot that almonds could send me into anaphylactic shock. No. Maybe he remembered perfectly well. Last week, Stella posted a photo on her social media. It was a steaming bowl of almond oatmeal. The caption read, “Being fed in the cold winter is the best feeling. Surviving the season on this alone!” Nolan had been sitting right next to me on the couch when he scrolled past it. He had smiled at his screen. When I asked what was funny, he casually replied, “Just someone acting stupid in the work group chat.” Turns out, I was the stupid one. This breakfast wasn’t made for me. He had simply cooked a big batch for Stella, and carelessly scooped a leftover portion into a bowl for his wife. I dumped the oatmeal down the sink. The crushed almonds swirled in the running water before getting caught in the drain trap, their pale color glaringly offensive. While washing the bowl, the freezing tap water ran over the back of my hand, and I realized my fingertips were completely white from the cold. I dried my hands and walked into his home office. The second drawer of Nolan’s mahogany desk was a place I never touched. He always told me, “Don’t mess with the work documents. Looking at them will just give you a headache.” There were no work documents in that drawer. Just an old, sleek smartphone. I pressed the power button. The screen lit up instantly. No passcode. The photo gallery was a shrine to Nolan and Stella. The very first photo was tagged with the location of our wedding venue’s botanical garden. Stella was wearing a white sundress, leaning against a wall of blooming vines. Nolan had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist. They were beaming at the camera, framed by the cascading white roses hanging from the trellis. I remembered those white roses. I was the one who picked them. I also remembered the way Nolan smiled at me during our vows. But the man in this photo, his face was relaxed, loose, completely unmasked in a way I had never seen. I kept swiping. A living room in Chicago. A balcony overlooking the Chicago skyline. Two coffee mugs pressed together on a granite kitchen counter. The most recent photo was taken last month. Stella was standing on the balcony of that Chicago apartment, blowing a kiss to the camera. Resting perfectly against her collarbone was a sparkling emerald pendant. My thumb hovered over the screen, my hand shaking violently. I accidentally tapped into the Notes app. The pinned note at the very top was titled “Birthday Gifts.” I opened it. It was divided into two columns. On the left: Stella. Necklace, designer limited edition, already purchased. A link to the luxury boutique was attached. On the right: Wife. Just grab a bag or something. I stared at the words or something. Oddly enough, the sharp stabbing pain in my chest slowly dulled into a heavy, deadened weight. Last month on my birthday, when Nolan handed me the designer bag, he had kissed the top of my head. “Took me forever to find the perfect one,” he had whispered. “Do you like it?” I had hugged that bag, buzzing with happiness the entire night. I thought that even though he wasn’t great with romantic words, his heart was entirely mine. Looking back now, his words felt like a brutal backhand slap to the face of the woman who had smiled so brightly while opening his gift. The sound of keys jingling at the front door snapped me back. I shoved the phone back into the drawer, pushed it shut, and walked out of the office. The hallway wasn’t long. By the time I reached the end of it, I had completely reassembled my face into a soft smile. Nolan pushed the door open, spotting me near the office. His brows knitted together in a slight frown. “What are you doing over there? The office is drafty. Stop hanging around in the cold.” He took off his wool coat, draped it over my shoulders, and pulled me into his chest, guiding me toward the living room. “Did you eat breakfast? I made oatmeal.” I lowered my eyes, keeping my voice feather-light. “I ate it.” “Good girl.” He buried his face in my hair, his tone dripping with that familiar, patronizing affection. “If I’m not keeping an eye on you, you completely forget how to take care of yourself.” I buried my face into the collar of his coat, letting out a soft, compliant hum, just like I had done a thousand times before. But the moment the scent hit my nose, my fingers curled into tight fists. It was a crisp, herbaceous, expensive body wash. The exact same one sitting on the shelf in Stella’s bathroom the last time I went to her place. Nolan whispered, “What’s wrong? You cold?” I reached up, grabbing the lapel of his coat. My thumb and index finger pinched a single strand of hair. Long. Wavy. Chestnut brown. Not mine. I leaned against his chest and asked softly, “Nolan, whose is this?” He glanced down at the strand of hair, then chuckled, plucking it effortlessly from my fingertips. “Lots of female coworkers at the firm. Probably brushed against someone in a crowded elevator after a meeting. Are you seriously keeping tabs on me now?” I matched his smile. “Just asking.” He tossed the hair into the trash, his tone so gentle and flawless it was bulletproof. “Stop letting your imagination run wild. Go to bed early tonight. I have to fly out for a business trip tomorrow.” I didn’t sleep a wink that night. Nolan lay beside me, sleeping deeply, his chest rising and falling in perfect rhythm. His face looked exactly the same as the boy I fell in love with. It hadn’t changed at all. I remembered him pulling me across a busy street years ago, promising, “Audrey, I’m going to shield you from every problem in the world.” I remembered the day he proposed, sliding the ring onto my finger and whispering, “With me here, you never have to be afraid of anything.” He had kept his word. He shielded me from my career. From my friends. From my own mother. He shielded me from living my own life. At dawn, my phone buzzed against my pillow. The lawyer had sent the complete asset report. I rolled onto my side, turning my back to the still-sleeping Nolan, and scrolled through the document, reading every single line. It wasn’t just the Chicago apartment. Nolan had registered a media startup under Stella’s name. The $50,000 in seed money came straight from our joint savings. When I reached the final page, I stopped breathing for a long time. Nolan had bought a premium life insurance policy. The annual premium was $120,000. The sole beneficiary was Stella. The health insurance policy under my name was a basic medical plan. It cost $3,000 a year. I placed the phone facedown on the mattress, my chest aching so badly it felt like a cracked rib. Turns out, a person’s sense of security could be given an exact price tag. Later that morning, I went downstairs to take out the trash, desperate for some fresh air. Mrs. Higgins from next door stepped into the elevator with me. She smiled warmly. “Oh, Audrey! Your husband is just the sweetest. He helped me carry some heavy packages the other day.” I forced the corners of my mouth up. “He always likes to handle things.” Mrs. Higgins leaned in, lowering her voice like she had suddenly remembered a juicy secret. “By the way, does Nolan have a sister? I saw a really pretty girl with long wavy hair coming over to grab some things from him last week.” My heart skipped a beat. My grip on the garbage bag tightened until the plastic stretched thin. “It’s his cousin.” “Ah, that makes sense! I was going to say, she seemed awfully comfortable with him.” When I walked back into the apartment, Nolan was sitting by the door, tying his dress shoes. I leaned against the doorframe. “Someone came by to pick up stuff last week?” He didn’t miss a beat with his shoelaces. “Delivery guy dropped a package at the wrong door. A neighbor came by to grab it.” “A female neighbor?” “Yeah. Didn’t really pay attention.” He stood up and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I’ll be out of town for two days. Fridge is stocked with enough food for three. Don’t order takeout, it always messes with your stomach.” He lied without even having to think. I looked at the man standing in front of me and suddenly felt like I was looking at a complete stranger. In the end, I just gave a hollow nod. “Okay.” The moment the door clicked shut, my mom called. Her voice was incredibly quiet, almost cautious, like she was terrified of waking a sleeping beast. “Audrey, sweetie… I was thinking of coming down to see you next week. Don’t tell Nolan. We can just meet up somewhere secretly.” My throat seized up. Three years. It had gotten to the point where a mother wanting to see her own daughter had to use the word secretly. “Mom. Come over.” I heard a massive sigh of relief on the other end. “Okay. Okay, good. I promise I won’t get in the way of you two.” I ended the call and opened my banking app again. The monthly allowance Nolan transferred to me, after deducting groceries and household expenses, amounted to a measly ten grand saved over three years. I grabbed my ID, marched down to the bank, and opened a brand-new, private account he knew nothing about. While waiting in the lobby, my phone lit up with a text. Stella: Hey! Long time no see! Free for lunch? I miss you! I stared at the words I miss you and let out a soft, venomous chuckle. Someone who hadn’t spoken to me in three years suddenly crawling out of the woodwork acting like my soulmate. I typed back: Sure. Tomorrow? The next day at noon, I pushed open the glass doors of the chic downtown bistro. Stella was sitting in a sunlit booth, waving at me. Her smile was blinding. The limited-edition emerald necklace around her neck caught the light, practically screaming for attention. When I got closer, I saw how perfectly the small green gemstone rested against her collarbone. She stood up and wrapped me in a tight hug. “Audrey! Oh my god, I missed you so much.” The icy metal of her necklace pressed against my neck, and instantly, that crisp, herbaceous scent washed over me. The exact same scent lingering on Nolan’s coat. I rested my hand on her back and gave her a gentle pat. Then, I pulled back and smiled at her. “You look like you’re doing incredibly well.” Stella’s hand paused over her wine glass before her smile widened, a little too eager. “I am! Actually, the biggest news is I’m renovating my new place. It’s exhausting, but I’m so happy.” Half a glass of wine later, she became chatty. She rested her chin on her hand, failing to hide the absolute triumph in her voice. “I’m going for a modern rustic vibe. It’s gorgeous. I’m thinking of putting a plush rug on the balcony, maybe a little coffee table.” “Someone even bought me a smart vacuum because they didn’t want me getting tired from sweeping.” “Audrey, do you want to see pictures?” I nodded slowly. “I’d love to.” She slid her phone across the table, swiping through the gallery. The entryway. The living room. The open-concept kitchen. She was practically glowing, boasting about how someone helped her pick out the pendant lights, how she couldn’t decide on the sofa color but finally listened to that certain someone. Then, she swiped to a wide shot of the living room. Sitting crystal clear on the bookshelf was a framed photograph. Nolan, with his arm wrapped tightly around her. He was smiling so comfortably, his broad shoulders leaning slightly into her space. It was a version of Nolan that did not exist in a single photo album in my house. Stella’s finger froze on the screen. The base of her wine glass clinked sharply against the marble table. “Oops, wrong picture.” She frantically swiped past it, laughing much harder than before. “The place is such a mess right now, I accidentally took a picture of some random clutter.” I held my water glass. I didn’t press her. I just lowered my eyes and took a slow sip. “The apartment is stunning. You deserve it.” Stella’s shoulders dropped, exhaling a massive breath like she had just dodged a bullet. “Audrey, you’re exactly the same as always. Talking to you just makes people feel so comfortable.” I smiled back. “Does it?” We sat there for two hours. She talked about Chicago real estate, about how hard it was to start a company, about how someone always complained she was too needy but ended up fixing every single problem for her anyway. When the bill came, she unlocked her phone to pay. Her lock screen lit up brightly. It was a close-up profile shot of Nolan. He was standing on a balcony, wearing the exact dress shirt I had meticulously ironed for him last month. I pulled my lips into a polite, hollow smile. When I got home that evening, Nolan was sitting on the sofa. The TV was running, but his eyes were glued to his phone. Hearing the door, he instantly locked the screen. “Who did you get lunch with today?” I bent down to untie my shoes. “Stella.” The mindless chatter of a sitcom played in the background, but Nolan didn’t say a word. After a long beat, he tossed the remote onto the table. “Why the sudden catch-up?” “She reached out.” I walked over, sat down next to him, and rested my head heavily against his shoulder. His back went entirely rigid before he slowly raised his hand to stroke my hair. “What did she say?” “Nothing much.” I closed my eyes. “Just that she’s doing really well lately.” His hand kept running through my hair, his fingers pressing a little harder than usual. “Don’t hang around her too much anymore.” “I told you before, she’s not a good influence.” The exact same words, the exact same tone he used three years ago. Back then, I thought he was a fierce protector, filtering toxic friends out of my life. Now, listening to his heartbeat thumping frantically against my ear, I knew he wasn’t just tired. He was panicking. I didn’t answer, pretending to drift off to sleep. A few minutes later, his arm relaxed. His phone lit up on the nightstand, casting a faint blue glow against the ceiling. Through cracked eyelids, I watched him type a message and hit send. Two minutes later, the reply popped up. Stella: She’s completely clueless, don’t worry. Honestly, I feel kind of bad for her. She’s basically a pet that just does whatever you say. I shut my eyes tight. So my years of blind devotion and obedience were nothing more than an inside joke they used to stroke each other’s egos in the dark. Once his breathing leveled out into a deep snore, I gently lifted the arm he had draped over my waist, peeling it away like a piece of garbage that didn’t belong to me. I walked barefoot into the office and opened my laptop. Passport: Valid. Divorce agreement: Finalized. Financial evidence of infidelity and hidden assets: Backed up to a secure drive. One-way ticket to Iceland: Confirmed. I dragged all the files into a single master folder. I paused for a second, then named it: My Choice. Before crawling back into bed, I picked up his arm and draped it back over my waist. This was the last night. At dawn, a thin slice of light bled through the curtain gap. I fried two eggs, brewed a pot of black coffee, and quietly stashed my suitcase behind the shoe cabinet in the entryway. Nolan walked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Why are you up so early?” I poured him a mug of coffee. “Got errands to run today.” He sat down and took a bite of the eggs. “Where to? Need me to drop you off?” I looked at him. “No need.” He smiled warmly. “Alright. Come home early.” I cleared the plates, grabbed my suitcase, and walked out the door. In the final second before the elevator doors slid shut, I heard his voice echo from inside the apartment, calling out my name. The metal doors clamped together. I didn’t look back. By sunset, Nolan turned his key in the lock. The entryway was completely dark. The kitchen was ice cold. He called out, “Audrey?” He walked into the master bedroom. The closet doors were wide open, my side completely gutted. Sitting dead center on the vanity was my wedding ring, resting on top of a single piece of paper. The divorce papers have been mailed to your office. My lawyer will be in touch. He dialed my number. Voicemail. He dialed again. Still voicemail. He frantically called Stella. Her voice was trembling. “She was perfectly fine at lunch yesterday, I swear…” Nolan hung up on her mid-sentence. He ripped open his iPad, tracking my phone’s GPS. A tiny blue dot blinked at the international departure terminal. Then, it vanished completely. A notification popped up—an email from my legal team. He didn’t open it. He just stood dead still in the middle of our cavernous, empty living room, staring at the screen where my signal used to be.

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1 On my tenth birthday, two blood-red lines appeared in my diary: [Do not make a wish for Dad to come home.] [Ten years from today, Mom dies.] I thought it was a prank and shoved the diary into my backpack. But after midnight, it flipped open on its own. [At 11:00 PM tonight, Dad will come home wearing a gray dress shirt.] [Do not let Mom ask about the gardenia perfume on his collar.] At exactly eleven, Maury walked in wearing that gray shirt, reeking of gardenia perfume. Sarah cautiously asked about the smell. He sneered. “You sit at home all day playing the nagging housewife, and I can’t even get close to someone else?” He patted her cheek. “Stop throwing a fit. Focus on raising your little baggage and stay out of my business.” The baggage was me. From then on, the diary revealed only two sentences a day. It told me what would happen but never how to save my mother. On the day of the divorce, Maury leaned against his car, indifferent. “You’re dragging a kid, no money, no skills. Starve a few days and you’ll figure out who puts a roof over your head.” Sarah didn’t look back. Maury didn’t know the last page read: [Ten years from now, on a rainy night, he will beg Mom not to let go.] … After Maury slammed the bedroom door shut, Sarah squatted by the bathtub, scrubbing that gray dress shirt. She poured half a bottle of laundry detergent, but the red smudge on the collar just wouldn’t wash out. “Mom, what do gardenias smell like?” Her hands paused in the suds. “They’re a very fragrant flower, Lily.” “Then why don’t you like them?” “They’re too sweet. If you smell them for too long, they give you a headache.” The faucet was running at full blast, but I could still hear her sniffling. The diary was a birthday gift from her. It had a light blue cover with a moon painted on it. She had also given me a red ink pen, telling me I could use it to write down all the secrets I was too scared to say out loud. That red pen was still sitting perfectly zipped in my pencil case. The words in the diary were not written by me. I took a graphite pencil and wrote: [Who are you?] No response. [Why does Mom die?] The page remained completely blank. At exactly 12:07 AM, two lines of red ink slowly bled through the paper. [Tomorrow at 8:15 AM, Grandma will come to take Mom’s paycheck card.] [Hide it in the place you hate the most.] The place I hated the most was the dark cabinet under the kitchen sink. The next morning at seven, Sarah was frantically digging through her purse in the entryway. “That’s so weird. Where is my bank card?” I had already shoved the card behind a bottle of dish soap. Just as I closed the cabinet door, the doorbell rang. It was 8:15 AM. Helen walked in holding a plastic bag of day-old bagels, not even bothering to take off her shoes. “Save the milk in the fridge for Maury. You and the girl can drink tap water. Don’t go getting used to the good stuff.” Sarah took the bag. “Helen, I need to keep a thousand dollars this month. Lily’s school science camp is six hundred, and the minivan desperately needs a new alternator.” Helen’s face instantly darkened. “A little girl needs six hundred dollars just to go play outside for a day?” “Maury’s company is tight on cash right now. You’re his wife. If you don’t help him, who will?” She held out her hand. “Give me the card.” Sarah didn’t move. “That is the money I earned.” Helen glared at her for a few seconds before violently snatching Sarah’s purse and dumping it out. She started ripping open the shoe cabinet and the hallway drawers. The noise woke Maury. He walked out of the bedroom, his hair a mess. He saw me first. “You didn’t eat your cake last night?” He pulled the leftover strawberry cake from the fridge, meticulously picking off the crushed peanuts on top. “You’re allergic. Don’t eat things blindly.” He handed the plate to me before finally looking at his mother. “What’s all the screaming about so early?” Helen immediately pointed a bony finger at Sarah. “Your wife is hiding her paycheck!” Maury sighed heavily. “Sarah, just give her the card.” “The business is struggling. Letting my mom hold onto the money is just keeping it safe for the family.” Sarah looked him dead in the eye. “Last month, Lily had a 102-degree fever. I asked your mother for two hundred dollars for the urgent care co-pay, and she made me write her an IOU.” Helen raised her voice to a screech. “Family or not, money is money! Who knows what you’re actually spending it on?” Maury rubbed his temples. “It was two hundred bucks. Is it really worth holding a grudge over until now?” “What about Lily’s science camp?” Sarah asked. “Just because the other kids are going doesn’t mean she has to go.” Maury nudged the cake plate closer to me. “Once the company bounces back, I’ll buy you that telescope you wanted, Lily.” I looked down at the cake. He remembered I was allergic to peanuts. He remembered I wanted a telescope. But he didn’t remember that yesterday was my tenth birthday. Helen finally got her hands on my backpack. I rushed forward and hugged it to my chest. “It’s not in here!” She yanked hard on the strap. The backpack hit the floor, and the blue diary slid out. I threw myself over it, pinning it to the floor. Maury frowned. “Lily, why are you acting so spoiled lately?” “The card isn’t with Mom.” The living room went dead silent for a second. Helen immediately locked her eyes on me. “Did you take it, you little thief?” Maury crouched down and grabbed my shoulders. His voice was gentle, but his fingers dug painfully into my collarbone. “Lily. Give the card to Dad.” “I’ll buy you something even better later.” I swallowed the pain. “If I give it to Grandma, can I still go to the science camp?” Maury’s gentle smile vanished. “Why are you exactly like your mother? Always obsessing over pennies.” Sarah suddenly stepped forward and pulled me behind her. “She is not giving you the card.” It was the very first time she had ever said no to Maury. Furious, Helen swept her arm across the table, knocking the strawberry cake onto the floor. White frosting splattered across the hardwood. “Just perfect! You and your daughter teaming up to steal from this family!” Maury looked at the ruined cake on the floor. He didn’t stop his mother. “Sarah, don’t tear this family apart over a few dollars.” Sarah calmly walked over to the closet and grabbed the broom. “This family isn’t falling apart over a piece of plastic.” Maury grabbed his keys and stormed out with Helen. Once they were gone, I pulled the bank card out from under the sink. “Mom, I’m sorry.” She pulled me into a tight hug. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Lily.” “Keep this hidden for Mom a little longer.” At 12:07 AM, the diary revealed two new sentences. [Tomorrow, Dad will treat Mom incredibly well.] [So well that she will almost forget about tonight.] The next evening, Maury came home holding a bouquet of white lilies, a box of expensive lemon tarts, and a star-projector night light. “My mom has a hot temper. I’m apologizing for her.” He crouched down by my bed, plugging in the projector. Blue stars crawled across my ceiling. “The telescope will have to wait, but this should do for now.” My nose stung. When I was little and had that terrible fever, Maury was the one who held me in the emergency room waiting area all night long. Sarah always told me he wasn’t a bad person, just exhausted from work and quick to anger. “We’re going out to a nice dinner tonight. Making up for your birthday.” I almost nodded in pure joy. But then I remembered the diary in my backpack, and a hot, sharp pain hit my chest. Sitting inside the private dining room of the upscale restaurant was a young woman. She wore a white knit dress and a thick gold bracelet. The air around her smelled heavily of gardenias. “Sarah! I’ve been dying to meet you.” Maury pulled out a chair for her. “This is Rachel, the new sales manager at the firm. She closed that massive account last month.” Rachel pulled out a thick, expensive-looking birthday card. “Happy birthday, Lily.” I didn’t take it. When I ordered the glazed salmon, Maury immediately stopped the waiter. “No peanuts, and absolutely no peanut oil. The kid is strictly allergic.” He said it so naturally, so fiercely protective, as if the man who called me baggage two nights ago didn’t even exist. Sarah’s eyes were fixed entirely on Rachel’s gold bracelet. Last month, on Sarah’s birthday, Maury said the company was swamped. He didn’t even say happy birthday. But I had seen that exact gold bracelet sitting in his online shopping cart. Rachel touched her wrist, noticing the stare. “Maury insisted on getting this for me. He said I saved the company a fortune.” Maury chuckled. “You reward the people who earn it.” Sarah finally spoke. “Lily’s science camp is six hundred dollars. Yesterday you said we couldn’t waste money like that.” Maury’s smile flatlined. “Do we really have to do the accounting during dinner?” “I’m just asking a question.” “Rachel brings actual value to the company. What do you do?” “You make minimum wage at a local bakery. The mortgage, the utilities, the groceries. Who carries all of that?” “I paid her tuition this month,” Sarah said quietly. “Only because I transferred that money into your account.” “That was my paycheck.” Maury leaned back in his chair, scoffing. “If I hadn’t called in a favor with the owner, you wouldn’t have even gotten hired at that bakery.” Rachel awkwardly slid the birthday envelope closer to me. “Sarah, please don’t fight over a few dollars. I’ll pay for Lily’s science camp.” “Is there six hundred dollars in that envelope?” Sarah asked. Rachel froze. “Well, no, of course it’s more than that.” “So, six hundred dollars goes from my husband’s pocket into yours, and suddenly it’s a charity handout from you to my daughter?” Maury slammed his fork down onto the porcelain plate. “Lily!” Sarah pulled my chair closer to hers. “Did she ask a question that wasn’t true?” Rachel’s eyes immediately welled up with tears. “Sarah, I think you’re having a massive misunderstanding. Maury and I are strictly professional.” Right on cue, the dining room door swung open. Helen walked in. Seeing Rachel on the verge of tears, she immediately sat down next to her, patting her hand. “Rachel is just too soft-hearted.” “Some women have absolutely no skills of their own, so they just get vicious when they see someone else succeeding.” The waiter walked in carrying a beautifully plated, complimentary dessert with a sparkler in it. Rachel pushed the plate perfectly in front of Maury. “Today marks your tenth year running the company. I asked the chef to prepare something special.” Today was also Maury and Sarah’s tenth wedding anniversary. Maury had clearly completely forgotten. He accepted the plate, his smile melting into something incredibly tender. “You always pay attention to the details.” On the car ride home, Rachel called. Maury’s voice instantly dropped into a soft, soothing hum. “If you like it, buy it. If you need more on the card, just let me know.” Sarah stared out the passenger window into the dark street. “You buy her gold bracelets. You give her a blank check.” “But you couldn’t spare six hundred dollars for your own daughter’s education.” Maury abruptly pulled the SUV over to the shoulder of the road. “Sarah, are you ever going to drop this?” “She earns the money I spend on her. What do you do besides tally up every cent and complain?” Sarah’s voice was barely a whisper. “What about me? I’ve stood by you for ten years. I’ve taken care of this family for ten years.” Maury went silent for a few long seconds. He popped open the center console and pulled out a fresh box of expensive migraine medication. “You’ve been having those bad headaches again, right? I had someone pick this up from the pharmacy today.” He reached over and wrapped his hand over Sarah’s. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you do.” “But I kill myself out there all day, and when I come home, I have to listen to you audit my life. Who could survive that?” Sarah didn’t pull her hand away. When we got home, Maury poured her a glass of warm water and heated up a piece of the lemon tart. Sarah looked at me and whispered, “Your dad didn’t use to be like this.” “Then when is he going to change back?” I asked. She didn’t have an answer. At 12:07 AM, the diary surfaced with new text. [Every time he destroys Mom a little bit more, he gives her a piece of candy.] [The diary cannot tell you if that candy actually tastes sweet.] I picked up my pen and wrote: [Is Rachel a bad person?] The page gave absolutely no answer. On Saturday, Maury said he was taking me to buy a new study desk. Halfway there, Rachel called him. Ultimately, he parked the SUV outside a luxury condo sales center. Rachel was already waiting by the glass doors, holding a glossy floor plan. “Rachel is scouting corporate housing for our out-of-state hires. You two wait in the kids’ play area.” Sarah glanced at the floor plan in Rachel’s hands. “Corporate housing requires the CEO to personally check which direction the master bedroom faces?” Maury scowled. “Do you have to make every single thing sound so filthy?” Half an hour later, Sarah’s boss called her in for an emergency shift at the bakery. Maury didn’t even look up from the brochures. “You go. Lily can stay with me.” Sarah crouched down to my eye level. “Do you want to come with me?” I glanced at the heavy black leather briefcase sitting on the coffee table next to Maury. Last night, the diary had told me: [At 3:20 PM, Mom’s money will be inside the black briefcase.] [You can only take away one photograph.] I shook my head. At exactly 3:20 PM, Maury stepped outside to take a phone call. The real estate agent ushered Rachel upstairs to look at the model unit. I bolted over to the sofa and unzipped the black briefcase. Sitting right on top was a residential purchase agreement. The buyer’s name was Rachel. Total price: $500,000. Down payment: $150,000. The payment source was Maury and Sarah’s joint checking account. And $10,000 of that down payment was the college fund my maternal grandmother had left for me before she died. I raised my smartwatch and snapped a picture. Just as the shutter clicked, Maury’s voice boomed behind me. “What the hell are you doing?” He ripped the contract out of my hands, his fingers clamping down brutally on my upper arm. “Who told you to go through my things?” “This is Mom’s money!” “Did your mother put you up to this? Is she making you spy on me?” Tears streamed down my face from the blinding pain in my arm. Maury ripped the smartwatch off my wrist and frantically swiped through the gallery, deleting everything. But the photo had already auto-synced to my school cloud drive. The watch gallery was empty. His breathing slowed down. He rolled up my sleeve. Dark, angry red bruises were already blooming across my skin. He went to the reception desk, got a bag of ice, and pressed it gently against my arm. “Does it hurt?” I didn’t say a word. “That condo is just a real estate investment for the company. It’s not a gift for Aunt Rachel.” He dug into his pocket and pulled out a gourmet chocolate square, double-checking the label to ensure it was nut-free before handing it to me. “Don’t tell Mom about this. You know how she overthinks things.” So that was it. The candy he gave me was literal. That night, when Sarah saw the dark bruises on my arm, the color drained from her face. “Who did this to you?” Maury tossed his car keys casually onto the counter. “She was digging through my confidential work files. I pulled her away.” “You pulled her away, and it left bruises like that?” “I already iced it for her. Stop assuming the worst in me.” I opened the cloud app on my tablet and pulled up the photo of the contract. Sarah read the lines of text. Her hands began to tremble violently. “My mother’s money for Lily is in here.” Maury raised his voice, going on the offensive. “It’s just a temporary cash flow transfer!” “Then why is Rachel’s name on the deed?” “Because she qualifies for the first-time homebuyer tax credit!” “Maury, do you honestly think I’m that stupid?” Maury fell silent for a few seconds. Then, his tone completely softened into a defeated, weary sigh. “Once the market goes up and we flip the property, I’ll put the money back in the joint account with interest.” He walked into the kitchen and boiled a pot of fresh chicken noodle soup, dropping in a perfectly poached egg—Sarah’s absolute favorite comfort food. Ten years ago, when Maury was broke and trying to win her heart, he had cooked this exact same soup for her. Back then, the noodles were mushy and the egg was broken, but Sarah had cried and said it was the best thing she had ever tasted. She sat at the table staring at the steaming bowl for a very long time. Then, she stood up, picked up the bowl, and dumped the entire thing straight into the trash can. “Tomorrow morning, I’m going to the bank to print out the full transaction history.” Maury froze, the towel he was using to dry his hair dropping to his side. “Don’t push me, Sarah.” “You already took your anger out on our daughter today.” Sarah grabbed my hand, pulled me into the bedroom, and for the first time in ten years, locked the door from the inside. I pulled out the diary and asked: [Is Rachel going to have a baby in her stomach?] The paper remained blank. At 12:07 AM, two lines slowly formed on the page. [Tomorrow evening at 5:40 PM, Mom will bleed.] [Dad will hold her hand first. And then, he will let it go.] The next afternoon, Helen barged into the apartment carrying a stack of loan guarantor documents. Maury’s company had hit a massive cash flow crisis, and he needed to leverage our apartment for a $200,000 home equity loan. “Just sign your name. It’s just a formality.” Helen aggressively shoved a pen into Sarah’s hand. Sarah flipped to the signature page and dropped the pen. “I’m not signing this.” Helen’s face turned ugly. “You bake bread for a living. You offer zero help to this family, and now you want to drag Maury down?” Sarah slid the contract back across the table. “He drained our joint accounts to buy a half-million-dollar condo for Rachel. I still haven’t gotten an answer for that.” Helen sneered. “So what if he bought Rachel a place?” “She’s carrying Maury’s flesh and blood in her stomach. Did you expect him to let her sleep on the street?” The living room plunged into a suffocating silence. Maury violently kicked his chair back and stood up. “Mom!” Sarah slowly turned her head to look at Maury. “She’s pregnant?” Maury looked away, refusing to meet her eyes. “It’s only been two months. We aren’t entirely sure yet.” “What does ‘not entirely sure’ mean?” “I never planned on divorcing you, Sarah.” “Let the kid be born. Once we do a paternity test and confirm it, we’ll figure out how to handle it.” Sarah stared at him as if looking at a monster. “Then what the hell are Lily and I?” “You’re my family.” Maury stepped forward and grabbed her hands tightly. “Sarah, I swear to God, I never once thought about throwing you away.” “Rachel is young. She’s naive. But since the baby is here, I can’t just abandon it.” “You’re the mature one. You’ve always been the kindest person I know.” Sarah ripped her hands out of his grip. “So because I’m mature, my reward is cleaning up your filthy messes for the rest of my life?” “I told you, I will handle it.” “Handle it how? Let her live in a luxury condo paid for with my mother’s money, have your bastard child, and then expect me to play the gracious wife?” Helen stepped up and cracked a brutal slap right across Sarah’s face. “Who gave you the right to scream at my son!” I threw my entire body weight into Helen, shoving her away. “Don’t hit my mom!” Helen stumbled backward, her back slamming hard into the decorative display shelf. A heavy crystal vase tipped over the edge, plummeting straight down. Sarah spun around, throwing her arms over my head to shield me. The vase shattered against her temple. Glass exploded across the floor. Thick, dark blood instantly poured down the side of her face, dripping past her eyebrow. Maury’s face went completely pale. He lunged forward, pressing his bare hands frantically against the deep gash. “Don’t move. I’m taking you to the ER right now.” His hands were shaking violently. Sarah looked up at him, and for a fraction of a second, I saw a tiny sliver of hope flicker in her eyes. He grabbed his car keys and wrapped his heavy coat around her shivering shoulders. Then, his cell phone rang. Rachel’s caller ID flashed on the screen. Maury didn’t answer. The phone rang a second time. Then a third. Helen reached over and hit speakerphone. Rachel’s hysterical sobbing echoed through the bloody living room. “Maury, my stomach hurts so bad.” “The doctor said I might lose the baby. Please, you have to come.” Maury’s hands, which were pressing hard against Sarah’s bleeding head, suddenly went rigid. Sarah looked at him. “Weren’t you taking me to the hospital?” “Your cut is just external.” “I feel dizzy.” “I’ll have my mom take you.” Helen immediately scoffed. “Who’s going to clean up this disaster on the floor? I don’t have time for this.” Rachel let out another agonizing wail through the phone speaker. Maury pulled his hands away. The pressure was gone, and fresh hot blood spilled down Sarah’s cheek again. “Sarah, just call a cab.” “She’s carrying a baby. If something goes wrong, that’s a human life.” Sarah just stared at his bloodstained hands. When the front door slammed shut, the grandfather clock in the hallway read exactly 5:40 PM. I rode in the ambulance with Sarah. The doctor put four stitches in her temple. He said if the glass had hit a fraction of an inch lower, she would have lost her eye. The two prophecy lines in my diary had faded into the paper. In the blank space below, two new lines bled through. [Leave tonight.] [Do not take the stairs in your building.] Sarah stared at those lines for a very long time. “Did the diary tell you why I have to leave?” I shook my head. “It only tells me what’s going to happen. It never answers my questions.” Sarah reached out and gently rubbed the dark bruises on my arm. “That’s okay.” “Mom isn’t leaving because a book told her to.” “I’m leaving because earlier today… he held my hand, and then he chose to let it go.” When we got back to the apartment, the shattered glass and dried blood were still all over the floor. Sarah took the emergency fire escape stairs. She packed exactly two suitcases. Birth certificates, my school uniforms, a few changes of clothes, and the blue star projector lamp. Before we walked out, she took off her wedding ring and pinned it down over the signed divorce papers on the kitchen counter. We boarded a Greyhound bus out of the city at 5:00 AM. Maury got home an hour later. His first voicemail was incredibly tender. “Does your head still hurt, babe? I bought antibiotics and fresh gauze. I’ll change your bandages tonight.” Half an hour later, he must have opened the closet and seen her side completely gutted. The second voicemail was filled with venom. “Sarah, stop acting insane.” “Lily has school tomorrow. Bring my daughter home right now.” By noon, my homeroom teacher informed him that I had been officially withdrawn from the district. The bakery owner told him Sarah had quit effectively immediately, and the bank notified him that the joint accounts had been frozen pending litigation. Maury finally panicked. He tracked down our bus route and floored his SUV down the highway to catch us. The Greyhound had just pulled out of a rest stop when a horn blared aggressively behind us. Maury swerved his SUV into the shoulder, cutting off the lane, and jumped out of the car, sprinting toward the bus windows. “Sarah!” “Lily!” He was desperately waving the blue star lamp we had left behind in the rush. “Lily, it’s Dad! Let me take you home!” I saw him. And I knew he saw me looking down at him. I didn’t cry. I didn’t beg the bus driver to pull over. I opened my smartwatch, deleted the contact name “Dad,” and changed it to “Maury.” Then, I reached up and slowly pulled the heavy fabric curtain shut. Just before the window was completely covered, I saw Maury standing frozen on the side of the highway, completely alone.

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1 The new estate manager, Julian, was a magnetic male lead who “saved” my three villainous sisters, turning them into his loyal attack dogs. They handed him the Armstrong family’s vast resources. Consumed by jealousy over stolen affection, I targeted him constantly until my sisters grew disgusted. My eldest sister froze my accounts and banished me. My second swapped my meds to keep me in agony. My third hid my identity, letting fans cyberbully me to death. I died miserably, unclaimed. Reborn, I decided to lay flat and let things play out. What I didn’t expect was that my sisters could now hear my inner thoughts. The last time I’d seen them in my past life, I sat in a broken wheelchair in a filthy rental room, wearing grease-stained rags. Julian, draped in haute couture, was surrounded by my three sisters doting on him. He looked at me with condescension. “For the sake of us once being best friends, if you apologize and call me brother-in-law, I’ll forgive you and let you move back to the Armstrong estate. How does that sound?” Call him brother-in-law? Like hell he deserved that! He was the reason my face was destroyed. He was the reason I was crippled. His shameless goal of marrying into the Armstrong family was nothing more than a calculated plot to destroy our empire from the inside. But no one believed a single word I said. Everyone was convinced I was just blinded by jealousy, and that my pathetic fate was entirely my own fault. I clenched my jaw so hard I tasted blood, and spat violently in his direction. “You? Deserve that? I’d rather die than call a parasite like you family!” “One day, your disgusting, two-faced scheme is going to be exposed to everyone—” Before I could finish, a brutal slap struck across my face. The sheer force of it made my teeth rattle, and a high-pitched ringing exploded in my ears. I forced my swollen eyes open and saw my eldest sister’s icy, apathetic face. Her brows were knitted tightly together, looking at me as if I were a piece of rotting garbage. “Hugo Armstrong. If you can’t keep that filthy mouth shut, I have no problem ripping it open for you!” I clutched my burning cheek, my voice trembling. “Sis…” She cut me off ruthlessly. “Do not call me your sister. The day you framed Julian, you ceased to be our brother.” Her words were like serrated knives, twisting into my already bleeding heart. The light in my eyes slowly died. I wanted to say something, anything, but when I opened my mouth, my throat was so raw and dry that no sound came out. Then, my heart started to seize. I clutched my chest, gasping frantically for air. “My… medicine.” My second sister had quit smoking years ago, but she picked up the habit again just because Julian smoked. She took two steps forward and violently crushed her lit cigarette directly into the back of my hand. Ignoring my hoarse scream of agony, she pointed a manicured finger at my chest and sneered. “Hugo, your congenital heart defect is probably just karma for having such a black, rotten core. Honestly? I don’t think there’s any point in treating you anymore.” The pain was so blinding I tumbled out of the wheelchair, hitting the dirty floor. I was practically suffocating. My third sister slowly crouched down, examining my emaciated, skeletal frame. She scowled. “Stop acting like a victim, Hugo. Do you honestly think playing the pathetic cripple is going to earn our forgiveness? Let me spell it out for you: you are delusional.” “And by the looks of it, you still haven’t learned your lesson.” Her words carried a deeply malicious undertone. I knew exactly what she meant. Just because I cursed at Julian once, she gave her fanatical followers the green light to publicly humiliate me online. Her stalker fans even tracked me down, pushed me out of my wheelchair, and stood there laughing as I crawled through the dirt. They constantly threw dead rats at my front door. The landlord couldn’t take the harassment anymore and kicked me out. That was why I was forced to rent this rotting shed next to a literal garbage dump, a place with a door that didn’t even lock. Without my medication, simply drawing breath became an excruciating battle. I collapsed onto the filthy floor like a dying fish, covered in open wounds. My consciousness began to blur. I tried desperately to recall a single happy memory from my life, something that wasn’t pure agony… but my mind was completely blank. My sisters ignored my trembling, outstretched hand. They turned their backs on me and walked out, leaving behind a final, disgusted mutter: “What a curse.” I opened my mouth one last time, but I had absolutely no strength left to fight. This was my second life. In my first life, I had calculated every move, fought tooth and nail, and still lost to the impenetrable plot armor of the “chosen” male lead. This world was a generic, wish-fulfillment novel. Julian was the protagonist. His entire goal was to bankrupt the Armstrong family so he could pave a golden road for the woman he actually loved. My three sisters were written as the grand villains. Yet, they inexplicably fell in love with Julian at first sight, let him “redeem” them, and willingly abandoned everything to act as his loyal lapdogs. They handed him every corporate asset, and even took literal bullets for him when he was kidnapped. In the end, one of my sisters was crippled, one was permanently blinded, and the last was left in a vegetative state. Desperate to save them from that horrific fate, I risked my life to expose Julian’s true intentions. But in their eyes, I was just a bitter, jealous little brother throwing a tantrum because Julian stole their attention. I fell from the grace of being the Armstrong family’s sole male heir, reduced to a disfigured, crippled outcast despised by everyone. No matter how many times I restarted, Julian would flawlessly manipulate his way between my three sisters, effortlessly usurping the place in their hearts that used to belong to me. I knew that when I opened my eyes again, everything would reset to the very beginning. But this time… I was just so goddamn tired. When I finally opened my eyes, my heart was still hammering against my ribs. The rotting, filthy shed had transformed into the warm, brilliantly lit dining room of the Armstrong mansion. The soft, amber chandelier illuminated the exquisitely plated food in front of me. A familiar voice echoed right next to my ear, dripping with pathetic grievance. “Hugo, why aren’t you eating? Did I make something you don’t like?” “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know you hated this.” “Tell me what you want to eat. I’ll make whatever you want.” My pupils violently contracted. It was Julian’s voice. Right now, in this timeline, he was still pretending to be my best friend. He had already “saved” my three sisters a few times, and whispers were starting to spread that he was the Armstrong family’s lucky charm. He wasn’t wearing the cheap uniform of an estate worker. He was dressed in a high-end designer outfit that I had bought for him. Sitting there, looking pampered and delicate, he looked more like the wealthy heir of the Armstrong family than I did. Right now, his face was the picture of utter victimization. A grown man, literally biting his lower lip to look pitiful. “I specifically asked Martha in the kitchen. She said you absolutely love seafood. Are you refusing to eat just because I was the one who cooked it?” “Don’t worry… I followed Martha’s instructions perfectly.” He was putting on a masterclass performance. But I just sat there, refusing to utter a single syllable. Julian’s voice grew more frantic. “Hugo, why are you ignoring me? Are you… are you disgusted because I grew up in the slums? Do you think I’m dirty?” I opened my mouth, but only meaningless, raspy syllables came out. I reached up and gripped my own throat, trying to force myself to speak. I was terrified that if I made Julian unhappy, my three sisters—who were already deeply infatuated with him—would use it as an excuse to torture me again. But my vocal cords refused to form a complete sentence. My eldest sister’s gaze shifted darkly between me and Julian. Her eyes were pools of frozen ink. “Hugo Armstrong. Is this the kind of manners the Armstrong family taught you?” “Julian put his heart into making this for you. Even if you don’t want to eat it, you will finish your plate.” I lowered my eyes, a cold, mocking laugh echoing entirely inside my own head. These three women are already completely blinded by him. How could I ever dare to be disgusted by you, Julian? You’re going to be the new master of the Armstrong family soon anyway. I’m just a cripple destined to be thrown into the slums. What right do I have to judge you? Anyone walking in right now would think Julian is the actual blood brother, seeing how fiercely you protect him. Oh, wait. I forgot. He’s not a blood brother. He’s a lover boy. And does anyone even care that I’m deathly allergic to seafood? Guess my life doesn’t mean a damn thing. For some inexplicable reason, the dining room plunged into a suffocating silence. The three women, who had just been smiling warmly moments before, suddenly froze, their expressions dropping into absolute ice. The seafood paella looked nauseating, but I forced myself to shovel it into my mouth, bite by agonizing bite. Swallowing down the bile rising in my throat, I managed to stretch my lips into a hollow smile directed at Julian. My eldest sister’s face was completely black, looking as if someone had just ruthlessly exposed her most shameful, guarded secret. Seeing me rapidly clear the plate and stand up to leave, her face turned pale, and she instinctively reached out her hand. “Hugo…” My second sister shot her a vicious glare, silently commanding her to shut up. She turned to me, her voice sickeningly gentle. “Hugo, are you feeling unwell today? Do you want your sister to examine you?” She was a brilliant doctor. In my past life, the medication that was supposed to manage my heart condition was prescribed by her. And she was the one who abruptly cut it off. She watched me writhe in unspeakable agony, completely forgetting that I was once the little brother she doted on. I paused on the first step of the grand staircase and looked back. My face was hidden in the shadows; no one could read my expression. It’s just a severe allergic reaction. It won’t kill me instantly. I’m so goddamn tired. Stop torturing me. Whatever you want me to do, I’ll just comply. My second sister froze, the blood draining completely from her face. She practically choked on her apology. “I didn’t… I didn’t purposely forget your seafood allergy.” Not purposely? What a pathetic, laughable excuse. I couldn’t be bothered to entertain their twisted mind games anymore. I turned my back on them and walked upstairs without a shred of hesitation. The moment Julian entered the picture, I knew the truth. No matter what I did, I would never be the one they chose. So I was done fighting. I was just going to let it all rot. A sudden, aggressive knock on my bedroom door ripped me out of my chaotic thoughts. It was Julian, armed with his signature pitiful routine. His voice was thick with fake tears, knocking rhythmically on the wood as if he would literally collapse if I didn’t open the door. “Hugo, what’s wrong? Did I do something to upset you? I’m so sorry, please don’t ignore me. Aren’t we best friends?” His words were agonizingly sweet. But at the exact same moment, another voice echoed directly inside my head. It was also Julian’s voice. Except the words he was saying were the absolute polar opposite. “System. What the hell is Hugo acting crazy for?” “He’s completely going off script. None of this was in the plotline. Now those stupid female side characters think I’m bullying him! My affection meter just dropped ten whole points!” A sterile, mechanical voice responded instantly in my mind. “Rest assured, Host. I have scanned the targets. Their affection levels for you remain comfortably above fifty. The point deductions are well within the controllable margin.” My entire body went numb. A terrifying chill crawled straight up my spine. Despite being in a heavily heated bedroom, violent shivers tore through my body. It was those voices. In my past life, when Julian orchestrated a car crash that left me in a brief coma, I used to hear these exact same voices echoing in the darkness of my hospital room. I heard Julian and his “System” plotting exactly how to bankrupt the Armstrong empire, how to turn my family into a stepping stone for his own ascension. The second I woke up from that coma, I desperately sought out my eldest sister to warn her. But no matter how frantically I tried to explain, she only looked at me with profound disgust. Julian had walked out of the private lounge in her home office—a room she strictly forbade anyone else from entering—wearing the ultimate “wronged victim” face. “Monica, it’s okay. Hugo probably just had a moment of confusion to do something so reckless. It doesn’t matter. I forgive him.” Monica’s face grew darker and darker as Julian played the martyr. She looked down at me and spat, “Hugo, what the hell has gotten into you? You try to murder Julian in a car crash, and when that fails, you have the audacity to slander him to my face?” “He literally sat by your hospital bed while you were in a coma, begging me not to punish you!” I couldn’t quite remember what happened after that. I only remembered that from that exact moment, I was entirely erased from the Armstrong family. I packed a tiny suitcase with a few changes of clothes. It was pouring rain outside. Monica’s expression didn’t soften for a fraction of a second as she physically shoved me out the front door. She looked down at me, covered in mud and filth, from the top of the grand marble steps. “Hugo Armstrong. Since you cannot tolerate Julian’s existence, the Armstrong family will no longer recognize you as its heir.” “Without the title of the Armstrong heir… what exactly do you think you are?” Just recalling those memories made my hands shake uncontrollably. What kind of twisted act was he trying to pull this time? I didn’t even have to guess. I knew for a fact Julian wasn’t standing outside my door alone. I didn’t know which sister’s affection points he was trying to farm right now, but honestly? I didn’t care. It had nothing to do with me anymore. I was leaving the Armstrong family anyway. Knowing I couldn’t hide in here forever, I took a deep breath, walked over, and yanked the door open. Julian’s hand was raised mid-knock. He didn’t even look embarrassed. He immediately reached out to grab my hand, but I smoothly stepped sideways, letting him grab dead air. “Hugo—” He dragged out my name, his eyes frantically darting to the space behind him. Standing there was my third sister. “If something is bothering you, just tell me. Please don’t shut me out.” In my past life, he only ever acted this sickly sweet to me when my sisters were watching. The whole pathetic routine he just pulled was strictly for her benefit. My third sister remained silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, it was, predictably, to defend Julian. She looked at me with a calculating, deeply concerned gaze. “Hugo. I’ve been talking to Monica and Diana the past few days. Is there some sort of misunderstanding between you and Julian? Weren’t you two inseparable?” “You have no idea how many times he’s cried in secret because you’ve been giving him the cold shoulder lately.” She let out a heavy sigh, putting on a sickeningly convincing mask of a loving sister. “I know a very highly regarded psychiatrist. If you’re struggling with something and don’t want to tell Monica or Diana… tell me. I’ll take you to see him tomorrow, okay?” So, without even trying to understand what happened, you instantly jump to throwing me into a psych ward… Right. In your eyes, anyone who doesn’t worship Julian must be mentally ill. When you permitted your rabid fanbase to dox and cyberbully me to the brink of suicide, you didn’t seem to care if my mental health was declining then. Are you just trying to get revenge for Julian? You might as well just lock me in an asylum right now and throw away the key. My third sister froze completely. The expression on her face slowly contorted into something horrified. She looked at Julian, then at me, and finally stared down at her own trembling hands in absolute disbelief. “Hugo,” she started, her voice shaking. “Did… did I do something terrible? Please don’t hate me.” My face remained a mask of extreme caution. I slowly shook my head, then immediately slammed the heavy bedroom door shut in her face. Right as the latch clicked, I heard a loud thud against the wood. Followed instantly by Julian crying out in pain, “Chloe!” The mechanical System blared in my head: “WARNING! Female side character Chloe affection -10. Current affection has dropped below 50. Host must formulate an immediate strategy to recover affection points.” “Do not call me that.” My third sister’s voice sounded chillingly dark. “You might have fooled my two idiot sisters upstairs, but you haven’t fooled me. You better give me a very good explanation right now, or I swear to God I will—” I couldn’t hear the rest of her threat. They must have walked away. I didn’t know what sparked her sudden, bizarre shift in attitude, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. Seeing how deeply they had protected Julian up until this point, history repeating itself was only a matter of time. Whatever Julian planned to do to the Armstrong family, it wasn’t my problem anymore. For me, nothing mattered more than staying alive.

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I’ve been married to Nick for six years. For four of those, a “sunshine girl” system host hijacked my body. She used my flesh and blood to melt the heart of this ruthless billionaire. Then, today, I suddenly snatched the steering wheel back. Rows of glowing text drifted through the air right in front of my eyes. “The mission is almost complete. Why the hell is this loser side-character back to ruin everything?” “Relax. There is no way the male lead will ever fall for a pathetic doormat like her.” Right on cue, Nick walked into the room carrying a glass of mango juice, a drink that literally made my stomach churn. He stared a hole right through my face. Suppressing my gag reflex, I downed it in one gulp. I mimicked that sunshine girl, flashing him a bright, empty-headed smile. The light in Nick’s eyes died instantly. He turned around like a puppet with cut strings, his footsteps heavy as lead. 1 Four years. I had no idea what Nick had been through, but he looked like a completely different person. His face was gaunt, stripped down to sharp angles and bone. His eyes were sunken hollows, his jaw wired tight with tension. He carried a suffocating aura of death around him, completely stripped of the arrogant, high-flying heir I used to know. I almost didn’t recognize him. I dragged my gaze away from his face and looked at the empty glass of mango juice. Judging by his intense focus, he had poured it specifically for me. I sucked in a sharp breath. My stomach immediately twisted into violent knots, and my first instinct was to wave it away in disgust. The glowing comments popped up again. [LMAO. The female lead drinks a glass of mango juice every single night before bed.] [But this useless side-character saw a maid spit in her mango juice when she was a kid. She gags just looking at the stuff now.] [Oh snap. Is the male lead about to realize the original trash wife is back?] [Grab the popcorn! Once he figures it out, he’ll do whatever it takes to drag our Sunshine Girl back.] [Wait, is he already suspicious? Was this juice a test?] As the text floated by, the hand I had raised to push the glass away froze mid-air. Nick seemed to catch that micro-hesitation. His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine. He stubbornly pushed the glass an inch closer, his voice betraying a sliver of desperate hope. “Why aren’t you taking it? Do you not want it?” I ground my teeth together, forced my hand forward, and took the glass. Under his piercing scrutiny, I tipped my head back and chugged the thick liquid down. I swallowed the rising bile in my throat and forced out a bright, carefree giggle. The chat was right. Down to my marrow, I was a coward. I had spent my entire life hiding in my shell, too terrified to even breathe too loudly. There was no way I could naturally pull off a smile this radiant. The only person who could laugh with such brazen confidence was the female lead who stole my life. Luckily, I still retained her memories. The juice was gone. Now it was time to lean in and act sweet. “I’m fine! The juice is super sweet. Thanks, hubby.” Before the words even fully left my mouth, the fragile hope in Nick’s eyes shattered into dust. He reverted back to that lifeless, hollow shell. Turning his back to me, he walked away, his posture radiating a freezing distance. As he reached the doorway, his foot slipped. He slammed his hand against the doorframe, his knuckles turning white as he violently caught his balance. He nearly collapsed to the floor. My heart skipped a beat. I scrambled out of bed barefoot to catch him. “Are you okay?” Before my fingers could even graze his shirt, Nick flinched violently away. He didn’t spare me a single glance as he strode out of the room. My hand hung in the air. I stared blankly at the empty hallway, nervously biting my lower lip until I tasted iron. Ever since I could remember, I had lived under the shadow of cold violence. The feeling of being treated like invisible dirt was carved into my bones. My body always reacted faster than my brain. The second I sensed hostility, my shoulders began to shake uncontrollably. 2 The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, the adrenaline wore off. I stumbled into the master bathroom, dropping to my knees. Clinging to the porcelain toilet, I threw up until my throat burned and my lungs screamed for air. Only when my stomach was completely empty did I feel like a living, breathing human again. The floating text started buzzing with activity. [Holy shit. She actually faked her way through that?] [Chill out. She’s still wearing the same face, and the dude isn’t a mind reader. He won’t figure it out instantly. Just watch.] [Haha, did you guys see how pathetic she looked? Shaking like a leaf just because he glared at her.] [Right? Our Sunshine baby never put up with that attitude. The colder he acted, the more she teased him. These past four years have been the ultimate grumpy-sunshine romance trope.] [Exactly. Let’s be real, he actually wanted to marry her older sister first. The sister was a total ray of light too.] [Yup. The sister refused to marry him, so he had to settle for this doormat.] The text faded. I used the tiled wall to drag myself upright and shuffled over to the marble sink. I stared hard at the reflection in the mirror. Perfectly sculpted cheeks, arched brows, glowing skin, flawless makeup, and bright, sparkling eyes. The female lead had polished this meat suit until it shined blindingly bright. So bright that I couldn’t even recognize myself. 3 The chat wasn’t lying. My older sister, Harper, was cut from the same cloth as that system host. Passionate, outgoing, and wildly charismatic. No matter where she stood, she effortlessly stole the room. We shared the same mother, but our personalities were night and day. I grew up entirely in Harper’s shadow. I wore her hand-me-down dresses, ate the snacks she discarded, and used the pens she threw away. I was the ugly duckling constantly used to highlight the swan. Being treated as invisible for two decades had molded me into a deeply insecure ghost of a person. I was used to walking with my shoulders hunched, hiding behind her, trying to blend into the wallpaper. I didn’t speak up, I didn’t stand out, and I was too terrified to even look people in the eye when saying hello. The day the Sinclair family patriarch came to propose an alliance, my parents were over the moon. The old man didn’t specify which granddaughter he wanted, but everyone knew the unspoken truth. The Sinclairs absolutely wanted the radiant, perfect Harper. That night, Harper dressed to the nines for a dinner with the Sinclair family. She came home pale as a sheet, throwing herself into our mother’s arms, sobbing hysterically. “Mom, everyone says Nick is a literal psychopath! When he loses it, he beats people half to death. He knew I was there today and didn’t even show his face. I bet they had him locked up in the basement! I’m not doing it, Mom. I’d rather die than marry a freak!” Harper threw tantrums for three straight days. My mother cried tears of heartbreak for her golden child. Finally, she hardened her heart and turned her sights on me. The very next day, without a single word of warning, they announced Harper was already engaged to someone else. Then, they shoved me into the black luxury car sent by the Sinclair family. I curled into a tight ball in the backseat, shivering violently. My head was filled with the vicious rumors I had overheard. People said Nick was a flesh-eating monster. They said he was a ruthless psycho who turned on his own blood. Looking at my pathetic reflection in the tinted window, I mentally prepared myself for a hundred different ways to die. Boiling water thrown in my face, getting slapped around, being mocked for not being Harper, or just getting kicked out onto the curb. Whatever. I had been treated like a stray dog my whole life. Getting cursed out one more time wouldn’t kill me. But when Nick finally saw me, he didn’t even lift an eyebrow. He just gave a curt nod. “Anyone works,” he threw out the words with zero emotion. He slid a signet ring off his pinky finger and tossed it into a drawer. 4 On our wedding night, we were both clueless. After a clumsy, agonizing ordeal, I literally passed out from the pain. When I opened my eyes again, the bedroom was bathed in the warm, dim glow of a wall sconce. Nick was sitting right by the bed. He held a warm, damp towel, repeatedly wiping the cold sweat from my forehead. His movements were incredibly light, like he was afraid I would shatter. Seeing me wake up, he let out a massive breath. But the relief lasted only a second before his brows slammed together again. “Hazel, if it hurt that badly, why didn’t you make a sound?” I was already terrified of him. I yanked the duvet up to my chin, trembling. I nodded frantically, then shook my head just as fast. He froze. He clamped his mouth shut and didn’t say another word. He just sat there, his dark eyes quietly studying me for a long time. There was an emotion hidden in his gaze that I couldn’t read. It looked like regret. Or maybe something else entirely. For the next entire month, he didn’t lay a single finger on me. At first, I felt like I had dodged a bullet. But soon, a different kind of terror crept in. Did I disgust him? Did he think marrying me was a bad deal? Was he going to throw me out on the street? After all, he only took me because he had no other choice. After years of surviving in the Woods household as a punching bag, fawning and people-pleasing were my only survival tactics. I locked myself in my room, blushing fiercely as I spent a whole day researching online. Late that night, taking a massive gulp of air, I squeezed my way into his slightly ajar bathroom door. That night, I passed out three more times. Though, this time, it definitely wasn’t from the pain. The floating chat insisted Nick was a block of ice that could never be melted. I thought the same at first. But as the days bled into months, I realized he was just cold on the outside. Whenever he traveled for business, he would video call me a dozen times a day. Keeping a straight, serious face, he would report mundane details like how many slices of beef he had for lunch. A few times, I was too slow to answer. He would stubbornly claim it was fine, but through the screen, he was visibly sulking, fully convinced he was hiding it perfectly. Every evening when he walked through the front door, he always had something in his hands. A slice of cake from a bakery, or a neatly wrapped bouquet of flowers. Rain or shine, he never missed a day, always tossing them on the counter with a feigned nonchalance. “Just picked it up by the road.” I never had a good sense of style. Even if I spent hours staring at the mirror, my outfits always looked like a messy disaster. Nick would sit on the velvet sofa behind me, pretending to read his financial reports, acting like he didn’t notice my struggle. But the next morning, I would wake up to a perfectly folded outfit sitting on my nightstand. From the base layers to the coat, right down to the matching necklace and handbag. It was immaculately styled. From that day on, it was like a switch flipped inside him. He tirelessly prepared my outfits every single morning, mixing up the styles day after day, acting like a stressed-out father dressing his toddler. 5 The sound of footsteps echoing down the hallway snapped me back to reality. I shook my head, clearing the memories. After chewing on my lip for a moment, I slid my feet into my slippers and cracked the door open as quietly as possible. Being gone for four entire years, it would be a lie to say I didn’t feel a deep attachment to this house. The hallway was eerily silent. I looked down the corridor. The decor was exactly the same as it was four years ago. Even the potted monstera plant I used to take care of was still sitting by the bay window. Its leaves were lush and vibrant green, looking even healthier than when I used to water it. Whoever was taking care of it had put a lot of love into it. I couldn’t control my legs. I drifted closer. But the second my fingertips brushed against a glossy green leaf, a voice like cracked ice struck my back. “What are you doing out here?” I turned to stone. Nick was standing in a dimly lit corner of the hall. His eyes were nailed to me. I couldn’t read his expression in the shadows, but the suffocating pressure rolling off him made it hard to breathe. I fought down the primal urge to run away. Forcing a rigid smile, I shook my head. “I… I was just walking around…” “If you’re still sick, don’t wander the halls.” He dropped the freezing words, didn’t spare me a second glance, and walked right past me. Desperate to escape the suffocating air, I spun around and practically ran back to my room. Because I fled so fast, I totally missed what happened next. The man stopped in his tracks, lowered his eyes, and pulled a pack of tissues from his pocket. He meticulously wiped down the exact leaf I had just touched, cleaning it over and over again. Then, with a look of pure, unadulterated disgust, he tossed the crumpled tissue into the trash bin. 6 Back in the bedroom, I slid down the wooden door until I hit the floor. My hands and feet were freezing, and my heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird. This room, where I had safely lived for two years, now felt terrifyingly alien. The space was drowned in an aggressive, blinding Barbie pink. A wildly obnoxious faux-fur rug covered the hardwood floor. The vanity was cluttered with dozens of absurdly expensive perfume bottles, crammed so tight there wasn’t even room to set down a hairbrush. With a shaking hand, I pulled open the walk-in closet. It was stuffed entirely with neon slip dresses, tight leather shorts, and backless club wear. The modest, perfectly tailored clothes Nick used to leave by my bed every morning were completely gone. Not a single thread remained. As I flipped through the hangers, a bitter, sour ache rose in my chest. For four years, did that woman prance around in these clothes, laughing and flirting with him without a care in the world? The text in the air was still floating lazily by. [God, the way this side-character acts like a deer in headlights is hilarious.] [Our Sunshine Girl turned this depressing haunted house into a cozy home. Now the male lead rushes home from the office every day just to see her.] [Yep. Give it a few days. Once she gets used to the Sunshine Girl’s lifestyle, she’ll completely forget who she even is.] I bit down on my lip and forced myself to look away from the closet. Bang. The bedroom door was violently shoved open, shattering my thoughts. I jumped out of my skin, spinning around. Nick was back. He stood in the doorway, gripping a thin stack of papers in his hand. His eyes were colder than absolute zero. Without looking at my face, he tossed the papers onto the crowded vanity. The documents slid across the marble, revealing the bold black letters at the top. The words burned my eyes. DIVORCE AGREEMENT. White noise filled my ears. What was going on? Didn’t the chat say the Sunshine Girl had completely melted this iceberg? Didn’t they say they were living in a sweet, romantic dream? Why the hell was there a divorce paper? Before I could process it, the floating text went crazy. [Oh boy, here we go again. This is like the third time he’s brought up divorce this month.] [The male lead loves playing hard to get. Every time Sunshine acts cute and throws a tantrum, he instantly folds.] [It’s called foreplay, guys! Come on, side-character, don’t just stand there! Use the Sunshine Girl’s aggressive flirting tactics! Go kiss him!] So that was it. This was just their little twisted roleplay game? I swallowed hard, my palms slick with cold sweat. To keep him from realizing the host was gone, I had to play along. I squeezed my throat, forcing my voice to pitch an octave higher, mimicking the female lead’s whiny tone. “Hubby… stop trying to scare me with this stuff.” As I spoke, I walked over, picked up the papers, and ripped them in half right in front of him. The sound of tearing paper was deafening in the dead silent room. Feeling dangerously bold, I reached out, aiming to gently tug at the hem of his suit jacket. But the millisecond before my fingers grazed the dark wool fabric, Nick violently jerked backward. He moved so fast he nearly slammed his shoulder into the doorframe. He stared down at the shredded paper on the floor. A flash of profound, visceral repulsion crossed his eyes, dropping the temperature of the room below freezing. “Don’t you ever use that tone with me again.” His voice was dangerously low, grinding through clenched teeth. “Get out.” My hand froze in the empty air. Nick didn’t look at me again. He turned on his heel, stormed out, and slammed the door so hard the walls rattled.

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I spent three years pulling Adam out of a cramped, moldy studio apartment and transforming him into the international art world’s newest golden boy. Everyone called him a generational genius. Only I knew that every single brushstroke he took relied entirely on my resources and my connections. Today was his very first solo exhibition. I cleared my entire schedule to be here, only to find him wrapping his arm around the waist of Camilla, a billionaire real estate tycoon. He gestured proudly to the wall of “his” masterpieces. “I created this entire collection completely on my own. Nobody else laid a finger on it.” Standing at the back of the crowd, I held a flute of champagne and let out a soft laugh. Keep a dog long enough, and it eventually forgets who holds the leash. … “If you truly love Eye of the Abyss, Camilla, I can reserve it specifically for you.” Adam’s voice pierced through the bustling crowd and drilled straight into my ears. Camilla stood pressed against his side. She wore a dark green haute couture suit, the diamonds on her Patek Philippe watch catching the harsh gallery spotlights. Her fingers were practically digging into the fabric of his suit jacket. They were glued together, putting on a sickening display of affection right in front of everyone. “I would be honored to take it off your hands.” Camilla tilted her head, giving him a deeply flirtatious smile. “You mixed this blue perfectly. It feels so profound and isolated. It reminds me exactly of the vibe you give off.” Adam looked down and let out a low, charming chuckle. I stood in the back row, the cold glass of the champagne flute chilling my palm. The engagement ring on my left hand suddenly felt heavy, digging uncomfortably into my skin. My assistant, Sarah, was standing in the side corridor, frantically shooting me looks. She was silently asking if I wanted to go over there and intervene. I shook my head and stayed rooted to the floor. It was true that Adam spent seven sleepless nights in the studio last winter trying to paint that exact piece. But on the third night, he suffered a complete mental breakdown. He smeared oil paint all over the walls, smashed his wooden palette against the floor, and screamed that he simply couldn’t paint it. I was the one who dragged him up from the floor. I washed his brushes. I mixed that exact shade of cobalt blue. And from the fourth night onward, I was the one who painted every single stroke. Seven days later, he stood in front of the finished canvas, stared at it for a long time, and whispered how amazing he was. I didn’t correct him back then. Camilla pressed her body even closer to Adam. “I heard someone offered you a million and a half for this piece a few months ago, and you turned them down flat?” “I refuse to sell it to just anyone.” Adam raised his hand, his fingertips gently brushing a stray lock of hair off her shoulder. “I was saving it for someone who truly understands my vision.” Sarah finally reached her breaking point. She marched over to me, keeping her voice in a furious whisper. “Boss, do you want me to go over there right now and…” “No need.” Adam hadn’t noticed me yet. He was too busy whispering something into Camilla’s ear. She threw her head back and laughed, leaning half her body weight against his chest. I placed my champagne glass onto the tray of a passing waiter. The crystal base clinked sharply against the metal. Turning my back to the crowd, I walked straight out the side doors and pushed my way into the gallery’s security room. 2 The security guard jumped to his feet the second he saw me. “Camera three.” I pointed at the wall of monitors. “The feed pointing directly at Eye of the Abyss in the main hall. Take wide shots, closeups, and make sure the timestamp is visible. Screenshot everything and send it to Sarah’s work email within five minutes.” The guard froze for a split second. I shot him a cold glare, and his hands immediately flew across the keyboard. I stood in front of the glowing monitors, watching the exact moment Adam pulled his hand back from Camilla’s hair. I watched the frame freeze, capturing their intimacy in high definition. Then, I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Sarah, I need you to do three things. First, pull every single financial transaction Camilla has made with our gallery over the last six months. I want the files on my desk before sunset. Second, gather all the receipts for the art supplies, studio rent, and exhibition fees I have paid for Adam over the years. Bind them by year and leave them in my office. Third…” I paused, my eyes locking onto the bottom corner of Eye of the Abyss on the security screen. Adam, 2024. He had signed those words with more care and effort than he put into the actual painting. “Tell the event staff to cut all the alcohol for the second half of the night. Cancel every single press release. Do not let a single article go out.” I hung up the phone and took one last look at the monitor. Adam was currently guiding Camilla by the shoulder toward another painting. His strides were arrogant, his posture dripping with unearned confidence. That was a painting I had stayed awake for two straight nights to finish, and now he was using it to flirt with another woman. I turned off the main monitor and walked out of the security room. As I stepped into the hall, Camilla’s bright, crisp laughter echoed from the main room again, sounding like a handful of coins scattering across a sheet of ice. I didn’t turn back. I walked straight into the private parking garage. The second I slid the key into the ignition, my phone lit up. My contact, Dylan, had just replied to a message I sent ten minutes ago. “You mean Twilight Fade from last autumn’s auction? The final bid was over a million. The buyer was registered as ‘Adam Studio’. Why are you suddenly looking into this?” I stared at the words ‘Adam Studio’ for three full seconds. Then I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and started the engine. The roar of the motor completely drowned out the faint classical music drifting from the gallery. In my rearview mirror, the neon sign of Celeste Gallery slowly faded into the shadows as I backed out. I hit the gas. The green highway signs flashed by in a blur. The road ahead led neither to my house nor to my corporate office. My grip on the leather steering wheel tightened until my knuckles turned white, then slowly relaxed. “Adam.” I whispered his name into the empty car. The sound bounced against the windows before being swallowed by the rushing wind. My phone screen lit up again. Dylan had sent a follow up text. “Just tell me exactly what you need me to dig up.” I ignored it. The glowing lights of a tunnel entrance swallowed the car, flashing a rhythmic pattern of bright white and deep black across my windshield. I slammed my foot down on the gas pedal, launching the car deeper into the dark. You just wait. 3 As the tunnel lights blurred past my eyes, my mind kept drifting back to a single painting. Twilight Fade. I painted that entire piece in the studio last autumn. The only thing Adam contributed was brewing a cup of coffee and sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone. Every now and then, he would look up and casually suggest making the blue a little darker. I adjusted it exactly how he wanted. When I was done, he strolled over, took a quick glance, and casually said it looked good enough. Then he picked up a brush and signed his name. The lights in the corporate hallway were mostly turned off by the time I arrived. The clicking of my heels against the marble floor echoed loudly, bouncing off the walls in hollow thuds. When I pushed open my office door, Sarah was already standing by the printer. She held a thick stack of documents. Seeing me walk in, she placed them carefully on my desk. “Boss, the third task is done.” She cleared her throat before adding, “The security screenshots of Eye of the Abyss are safely archived.” I nodded, sitting down in my leather chair. I began flipping through the stack of financial records. Page one was a supply invoice from last March. Thirty seven thousand dollars. Under the memo line, there was a single word. Adam. Page two was a wire transfer for a year of studio rent. The payee was Adam. The payer was me. Page three, page four, page five… Sarah stood by my desk, remaining totally silent for a long moment before finally speaking up. “Boss, there is one more thing. Adam just called.” My hand didn’t stop turning the pages. “He wanted to know why the open bar was shut down and why the PR articles were pulled.” “What did you tell him?” “I told him we had a technical failure.” I looked up and met her eyes. “He said that excuse was utter garbage.” Sarah’s expression turned incredibly awkward. “He said he is coming straight here tomorrow morning to see you in person. He is demanding a proper explanation.” I let go of the financial records and leaned back in my chair. He was demanding an explanation from me. I let out a cold laugh. “Fine. When he shows up, let him walk right in.” I picked up my phone and opened a saved video file from last night. It was exactly eight minutes long. My thumb hovered over the play button for a few seconds before I closed out of the app. I opened my messages and typed a quick reply to Dylan. “I need to verify some more details about Twilight Fade. Hold off on taking any action for now.” I closed the chat and checked the time. It was twenty minutes to eleven. The screen hadn’t even gone dark before a new text popped up. It was from Adam. “Are you at the gallery or not?” I didn’t answer. Less than thirty seconds later, a second message arrived. “What is your problem today? The entire second half of my exhibition was completely ruined. Do you have any idea how many important people showed up? It is bad enough that you ghosted my big night, but I finally managed to invite Camilla, and you deliberately sabotaged my entire event.” I stared at the words It is bad enough that you ghosted my big night for a very long time. I had been at the gallery since nine in the morning. I listened to his entire pitch. I heard everything from his claim about painting the collection independently, all the way to him saving his masterpiece for someone who truly understands his vision. I locked my phone without replying and tossed it into the deepest corner of my desk drawer. Sarah was still standing by the door, waiting for my orders. “When he gets here tomorrow morning…” I opened the first page of the financial records again. “Wear your hidden body camera. Stand quietly in the corner and record everything. Do not warn him, and do not interrupt me.” “Boss, are you planning to…” “Let him talk. Whatever he says, you record it.” Sarah nodded and stepped out of the room. Just before the door clicked shut, she paused and looked back at me. Her lips parted like she wanted to say something comforting, but she ultimately stayed quiet and closed the door. The office returned to absolute silence. I opened the binder of financial records and read through them from the very beginning. I stared at every single transaction for three full seconds before stacking the papers neatly and slipping them into a pristine folder. Once that was done, I opened my laptop and created a new digital folder on my desktop. I typed a few letters and hit enter. A fresh file name appeared on the screen. Adam. The Complete Truth. I shut down the computer and walked over to the floor to ceiling window. The city lights outside looked scattered and dim. In the distance, the glowing logo of the Celeste Gallery stood out against the night sky. My phone buzzed again inside the drawer. I didn’t bother reaching for it. I just stood by the glass, letting his arrogant text echo in my mind. Tomorrow morning at ten o’clock, he would confidently push open my door, wearing that ridiculous sense of entitlement on his face. He would cross his legs on my sofa and aggressively demand to know why I pulled his press releases. He would yell about the alcohol, the ignored texts, and the humiliation he suffered. He would say a lot of things, and he would sound incredibly self righteous doing it. But the only things I had waiting for him were a folder, an eight minute video, and a thick stack of receipts. And a truth he would never want to hear. 4 The office door flew open with a violent crash. Adam stormed into the room. The top two buttons of his tailored shirt were unfastened, and his hair was artfully styled, but his face was twisted in pure, unadulterated fury. I casually glanced at the tiny red light blinking on the camera tucked into Sarah’s breast pocket. “Boss, Adam is here to see you.” Sarah delivered the line perfectly, then took a step back and stood quietly by the window. Adam threw himself onto the leather sofa and crossed one leg over his knee. When he looked at me, the corners of his mouth were pulled down in an ugly scowl. “What exactly is your problem, Celeste? I texted you all night and you completely ignored me. Right here, right now, I am giving you a chance to explain yourself.” I pushed my coffee cup to the side, leaned back in my chair, and looked him dead in the eye. “Explain what?” “Explain why you cut off my alcohol and canceled all my media coverage!” Adam slammed his palm against the armrest, his voice spiking in volume. “Do you have any idea how important my first solo exhibition is? Do you know how long I prepared for this? You pulled the plug on everything and told Sarah to blame it on a technical failure. Do you really think I am that stupid?” “You didn’t believe it. That is why you are here.” He stared at me, totally thrown off by my icy tone. His anger faltered for a second, quickly shifting into a different expression. It was the exact look he always used right before asking me for a massive favor. A manipulative mix of playing the victim and trying to act sweet. “Celeste, if there is an issue between us, why can’t we just talk it out like adults? You sabotaged my media coverage. You have to give me a valid reason.” “A reason?” “Yes. A reason.” I calmly closed the lid of my laptop. “Yesterday afternoon at exactly twelve minutes past three, you were standing in front of Eye of the Abyss with Camilla. You pointed directly at that canvas.” I paused, letting my eyes burn into his. “You told her you painted it entirely on your own.” Adam completely froze. His face went rigid for half a second before he forced his muscles to relax. “Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over that? Celeste, are you implying I didn’t paint it? I spent seven sleepless nights suffering in that studio! Are you calling me a liar?” “On the third night, you threw your palette at the wall. You spilled oil paint all over the floor. You sat in the mess and cried that you couldn’t paint it.” Adam left his mouth hanging open. No words came out. “At two in the morning on the fourth night, I dragged you up from the floor. I washed your brushes. I manually mixed that exact shade of cobalt blue.” I didn’t raise my voice. I let every single word drop onto the desk like heavy stones. “From the fourth day to the seventh day, I painted for forty eight hours straight while you sat around doing absolutely nothing. On the final night, you stood in front of the finished canvas and said, ‘Wow, look how amazing I am’.” The office plunged into a suffocating silence for three whole seconds. The red light on Sarah’s camera kept blinking, capturing every ounce of his panic. Adam swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. Then, he let out a loud, forced laugh. His voice carried the frantic desperation of a man who had just been exposed. “Are you seriously going to hold onto that one little detail forever? Fine! You helped me mix some colors. But the creative vision was mine! The composition was mine! You were just an assistant helping me complete my masterpiece!” “An assistant.” I repeated the word slowly, letting the mockery sink in. “Yes! An assistant!” He sat up straighter, his voice growing louder to cover his insecurity. “Without my genius concept, all the color mixing in the world wouldn’t mean a thing! Why are you acting like you painted the whole thing for me?” I didn’t rush to argue. I slowly opened my desk drawer, pulled out the thick stack of bound financial records, and tossed them onto the table. I used two fingers to slowly slide them across the polished wood, stopping right in front of him. 5 Adam glanced down at the cover page but refused to touch it. “What is this?” “Every single dollar you have spent over the last three years, and exactly where it came from.” “What are you trying to say?” His voice grew incredibly tight. “Thirty seven thousand for art supplies. Ninety six thousand a year for your private studio. Custom framing, material transport, gallery rental fees, and every single cent of your media promotion.” I flipped the pages open one by one, making sure he saw his name on every invoice. “Every exhibition you have attended over the last two years. Every ounce of exposure you got. Every bit of your so called market hype. Every single penny came directly out of my personal bank account.” Adam turned bright red. The flush started at his ears and spread rapidly across his cheekbones. “You think just because you threw some money around, you own me? Say it plainly, Celeste. Are you trying to claim that everything I have today is because of you?” “I am simply stating the facts.” He shot up from the sofa so violently that his knee slammed into the coffee table, rattling the ceramic mugs. “The facts? Fine! Let me tell you the real facts! The fact is, I am completely sick of you!” He pointed a trembling, pale finger directly at my face. “You always act like this! You always act so superior, trying to control every aspect of my life! You act like I would die without you! Let me tell you something, Celeste. I can paint just fine without you!” “Alright. Then go paint.” His pointing hand froze awkwardly in the air. “I rented that studio. I bought those supplies. The second you walk out of this office…” I tapped my index finger sharply against the desk. “You leave all of it behind. You are going to go find a completely blank canvas, buy a cheap brush, and paint something for me to see.” Adam stood completely still. His lips moved, but no sound came out. I gathered the stack of receipts and placed them back inside my drawer. Then, I reached over to my left hand and slowly pulled off the engagement ring. I dropped it onto the desk. The metal hit the solid wood with a sharp, heavy click. “Take it. I don’t want it anymore.” He stared at the diamond ring for three long seconds. His expression twisted wildly before he suddenly dropped back onto the sofa. His aggressive posture vanished, and his voice turned sickeningly soft. “Celeste, you need to calm down. Let’s not make rash decisions…” “No.” “You…” I stood up, walked around the massive desk, and pulled the office door wide open. “Get out, Adam.” He sat on the sofa, his face flushing violently from red to a sickly pale. Finally, he snatched his designer jacket and stood up. When he reached the doorway, he paused. He didn’t turn around, but he threw a mocking, deliberately cheerful comment over his shoulder. “You really think I am nothing without you? Let me tell you the truth. Camilla already bought Eye of the Abyss. She is hosting a private exhibition in the lobby of her corporate headquarters next week. She even renamed the piece. It is called Abyssal Promise now. Sounds a lot better than your stupid title, doesn’t it?” With that final taunt, he stormed out. The sharp clicking of his leather shoes echoed aggressively down the hallway. Sarah waited until the door fully closed before stepping forward. She saved the video file and looked up at me. I picked up my phone, opened my chat with Dylan, and typed a quick message. “What is the security like at the private exhibition space in Camilla’s corporate headquarters? Can we sneak a projector in?” The message barely went through before Dylan replied. “I can get it done.” I stared at the screen and let out a cold smile. Get ready, Adam. I have an incredible gift waiting just for you.

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “618621”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The Montgomery family ruled both the corporate world and the shadows of the city, yet for nine generations, a strange curse haunted their bloodline: every generation produced only a single male heir. Little Poppy was the first girl born into the Montgomery family in over a century. They treated her like a princess carved from diamond. In my past life, she died a horrific death at just three and a half years old. As her nanny, I became the prime suspect. Fake evidence of abuse was planted in my room. The Montgomerys looked at me as if I were already a corpse. When I was dragged down to the basement, I screamed until my voice cracked, “It wasn’t me!” Nobody knew the real monster was Bianca, the sweet, polished girlfriend Gavin had brought home. Faced with the family, she was an angel. Behind closed doors, she was a psychopath. She locked Poppy in dark rooms, pinched her tiny arms, terrified her, and whispered bitterly, “What makes you so special that your brother talks about you every single second?” After I died, my soul drifted in cold darkness, watching the full horror of Bianca’s evil unfold. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day she stepped into the Montgomery estate for the very first time. In my arms, three-year-old Poppy clutched my collar, asking in her tiny, adorable voice, “Auntie Hannah, who is that lady?” I pulled her tight against my chest. This time, I will never let her touch a single hair on your head. Not even once. 1 Starting from old Thomas Montgomery, nine generations of the main bloodline yielded nothing but boys. The day Poppy was born, her grandfather Thomas spent the entire night in the family chapel. The next morning, he tore down the old stables in the back courtyard and built a glasshouse nursery. Her father, Richard Montgomery, the ruthless titan who ran the city’s financial empire, held her for the first time like a stiff block of wood, afraid to even bend his fingers. And then there was her older brother, Gavin. He was the sharpest blade of the young generation. Taking over corporate operations at twenty-four, he could bleed rivals dry at the negotiation table without blinking. Yet around Poppy, his booming voice dropped to a soft whisper. The day Poppy learned to say “Gavin,” he canceled an international board meeting just to sit on the carpet building Lego towers with her all afternoon. Back then, I thought Poppy was the safest child on earth. Who would dare touch a Montgomery princess? Until Bianca walked into our lives. When she arrived, she handed me a lavish gift box. “A little plush doll for Poppy. Nothing fancy, just a small token from me.” In my past life, I took it. That night, Poppy broke out in severe hives and sobbed until three in the morning. The family doctor couldn’t pinpoint the trigger, while Bianca stood by with red, teary eyes, sighing, “Could there have been a mistake in her daily care? Her skin is just so delicate.” That was the first time she pointed a hidden blade at my neck. This time, staring at the box held out to me, my fingers tightened until my knuckles turned white. Poppy leaned over my shoulder, curious, reaching out her tiny hand. I gently caught her tiny wrist. “Miss Bianca, I appreciate it, but I can’t accept this.” The entire living room fell silent. Everyone turned to look at me. I placed the box back into her hands. “Poppy just finished her quarterly allergy panel last week. The doctor strictly ordered that any new toys, fabrics, or scents must pass a lab check before touching her skin.” “I thank you on Poppy’s behalf, but this needs to go to the medical staff first.” The smile on Bianca’s face froze for half a second. A flicker of icy malice flashed in her eyes. It was fast, but I caught it. Gavin frowned slightly. “Is all that really necessary?” I lowered my head respectfully. “Sir, if Poppy suffers an allergic reaction at night, she cries for three hours straight. She suffers terrible pain.” That single line shut Gavin up completely. Richard lifted his eyes from behind his financial journal and said calmly, “Do as Hannah says.” Bianca pasted her perfect smile back on. “Of course. Safety comes first. Hannah is a true professional, I completely trust her judgment.” She sounded so graceful, so understanding. But I knew better. The grudge had already taken root in her venomous heart. 2 During dinner, Bianca put on a flawless performance. She chatted comfortably with old Thomas about historical architecture, poured tea for Richard, and even offered to go into the kitchen afterward to learn how to make Poppy’s favorite milk pudding. The maids whispered among themselves that Gavin had found a gem. Clean background, stellar degrees, gentle demeanor. Only Poppy refused to get close to her. Bianca knelt by the carpet, waving a velvet bunny to entice her. “Poppy, sweetie, come give Bianca a big hug, okay?” Poppy shrank back into my arms, her little fingers clutching my uniform button. “Auntie Hannah hold me.” I knew it wasn’t just shyness. A three-year-old child reads instincts far better than adults do. She might not understand evil, but she can sense raw malice radiating off a person. Bianca let out a soft, hurt sigh. “Does Poppy not like me?” Gavin crouched down, softening his voice. “Poppy, look, she brought you a gift.” I scooped Poppy up and stood. “Mr. Gavin, Poppy didn’t get enough sleep during her afternoon nap. She’s getting cranky. I should take her upstairs.” Bianca’s eyes flickered. “Hannah, I actually studied child psychology. When a toddler resists a newcomer, running away behind a nanny only reinforces the fear.” “Why don’t you let me play with her for ten minutes? Once she gets used to me, she’ll be fine.” In my past life, it was those exact ten minutes. She managed to clear the staff out, claiming she was taking Poppy to see the koi pond in the flower garden. When Poppy returned, her long sleeves were pulled down tight. She didn’t cry or speak, just clutched her tiny hands together all night. There were no visible bruises. Only later did the autopsy report reveal deep, hidden soft tissue damage on her wrists. That evening was where the nightmare began. I locked eyes with Bianca. “Miss Bianca, child psychology theories are great, but hands-on care requires reading the child’s real-time state. She is actively refusing right now. Forcing interaction will only traumatize her.” Bianca smiled thinly. “You seem very guarded against me, Hannah.” The living room dropped several degrees. She had drawn a line in the sand. A hired nanny, acting overly suspicious of the heir’s girlfriend. To any outsider, it looked completely out of line. Before I could speak, Poppy buried her face into the crook of my neck, muttering softly, “Don’t want her.” The voice was small, but Gavin heard every word. His expression instantly shifted. He stepped forward and carefully took Poppy from my arms, his movements surprisingly gentle for a man rumored to be a cold-blooded monster in the corporate world. “Then you don’t have to,” Gavin said softly. A flash of humiliation passed over Bianca’s face, her eyes welling with tears. “I was just too eager. I’m sorry, Poppy.” If this were my past life, I might have thought she was being reasonable. Now, it made my stomach turn. That night, after putting Poppy to bed, I returned to my quarters and pulled out my phone. I logged an entry and sent it directly to the family physician: “Daily Log Update: Miss Bianca brought an unverified plush toy, secured. Child showed active avoidance toward Miss Bianca for seven minutes. No crying, no skin abnormalities.” In my past life, I relied on verbal explanations, which meant no one believed me. This time, I was going to leave an undeniable paper trail for every single day, every single detail. The next morning, the medical lab report came back. The interior stuffing of the plush toy contained micro-scented botanical beads. To an adult, it was just a faint milk scent. But to a child with severe allergies like Poppy, it was guaranteed to trigger intense rashes and night terrors. The doctor handed the report straight to Richard. Bianca looked utterly shocked and burst into tears on the spot. “I swear I had no idea the shop put those inside! It was my oversight, I’m so sorry!” Her tears fell right on cue. Gavin’s face was dark, but he didn’t blow up at her. Because at most, this looked like a careless mistake, not malice. I stood off to the side, watching Bianca dab her eyes with a tissue. When she looked up, her gaze locked onto mine. In that split second, a chilling glare flashed across her eyes. She was sending me a silent message: Round one goes to you. But this is far from over. 3 Over the next two weeks, Bianca never tried to touch Poppy again. Instead, she launched a quiet smear campaign against me. She would remark casually in front of Gavin, “Hannah works so hard, and Poppy is just so attached to her. I’m really worried Hannah might burn out from the pressure.” She brought gourmet pastries for the house staff, asking with a sweet smile, “Does Poppy only listen to Hannah? What will happen when Hannah takes a vacation?” When Poppy whimpered and refused to let her come near, Bianca would lower her head, laughing self-deprecatingly, “Maybe kids just don’t like me. Or maybe she’s just used to depending on one single person.” Taken individually, none of those comments sounded malicious. Put together, they wove a suffocating trap. The Montgomerys began to feel I was becoming too possessive, that Poppy was overly dependent on me, and that a nanny had no right to stand between the future lady of the house and the child. This time, I didn’t waste breath arguing. I took three concrete steps. First, I kept a meticulous, daily digital log. Physical copy in the nursery, electronic copy synced live to the doctor, the head butler Bernard, and Richard’s executive secretary. Second, I created an emotional flashcard system for Poppy. Red meant ‘don’t like’. Blue meant ‘scared’. Yellow meant ‘hurts’. Green meant ‘okay’. A three-year-old child cannot handle intense questioning from adults. I didn’t force her to point fingers at anyone. I simply taught her how to express her physical boundaries. “Poppy, if anyone makes you feel uncomfortable, don’t be afraid. Just show Auntie Hannah the red card.” Poppy tilted her head. “Even Gavin?” “Even Gavin. Even Grandpa. Anyone.” She thought hard about it and nodded with great seriousness. Third, I formally submitted a request for additional security camera coverage in the play area. My official reason was rock-solid: anti-fall monitoring and child safety review. All footage would be stored on a secure legal server managed by Butler Bernard and the legal department. No single individual had the authority to delete files. Butler Bernard brought the application form back to me. “Hannah, you do realize this puts you under constant surveillance as well?” “I have nothing to hide,” I replied calmly. Bernard searched my face for a long time. He had served the Montgomery family for forty years, his eyes sharp as a hawk. “Do you know something you’re not telling me?” he asked quietly. I couldn’t tell him I had died once. Instead, I broke down Bianca’s past tactics into realistic safety protocols. “Bernard, I just want to keep Poppy safe, and keep myself protected.” Bernard fell silent for a moment, then took the paper. That evening, Richard approved the installation. When Bianca found out, her composure slipped for the very first time. “Hannah, putting up so many cameras, won’t that ruin the child’s privacy?” I met her gaze dead-on. “A three-year-old child’s privacy does not include being alone with an adult in camera blind spots.” Her eyes went cold. “What are you implying?” I smiled politely. “Exactly what I said, Miss Bianca. Don’t overthink it.” After that day, the rumors among the staff grew nastier. Some said I acted like I owned half the estate. Some said I was using the child to manipulate the young master. Others claimed my six-figure monthly salary made me desperate to block the future mistress of the house. I heard every word, but I didn’t care to explain. I didn’t need people to believe me right now. I needed to make sure that when Bianca finally made her move, she would have zero chance of survival. However, I underestimated her desperation. She moved against me sooner than expected. One evening, Poppy suddenly developed a low-grade fever. I followed standard procedure, checking her temperature, logging the reading, and notifying the family doctor. Before the doctor arrived, Bianca appeared at the doorway, wrapping a light cardigan around herself, her face full of anxiety. “Why is she suddenly burning up? Hannah, did you give her something bad?” Before I could reply, she picked up a bottle of liquid infant vitamins from the nightstand. “How long has this bottle been open?” That bottle wasn’t mine. I knew the moment I saw it. In my past life, the contraband drug bottle found in my room had the exact same scratch mark on the side of the label. Bianca was setting the trap early. 4 I didn’t touch the bottle. I stepped back immediately and slammed the emergency call button on the wall. Butler Bernard and two senior maids rushed up within seconds. In front of everyone, I pointed to the nightstand. “An unregistered bottle of medicine has appeared in the nursery. Bernard, please lock it into a sealed evidence bag immediately.” “No one touches it until the medical team arrives.” Bianca froze. She clearly hadn’t expected me to call in witnesses before even looking at the bottle. She knitted her brows delicately. “Hannah, aren’t you being a bit dramatic? Maybe the doctor just left it behind last time.” I stared directly into her eyes. “Then we let the doctor confirm it.” Ten minutes later, Dr. Bennett arrived. He examined Poppy, confirming it was just an early sign of a common cold. When he inspected the liquid vitamin bottle, his expression turned grave. “I did not prescribe this. The chemical contents must be sent to the lab for urgent analysis.” Bernard promptly placed the bottle into a clear tamper-evident bag. Bianca stood beside us, looking utterly guiltless. “Thank goodness it was caught in time. That could have been dangerous.” I knew her fingerprints wouldn’t be on that bottle. She was far too careful for that. In my past life, she framed me so effortlessly precisely because she covered her tracks. Yet, extreme caution always leaves a flaw. She trusted her ability to control people a little too much. The next day, Gavin called me into his private study. He sat behind his heavy oak desk, his jaw set in a cold, rigid line. “Hannah, you’ve been hostile toward Bianca lately.” I stood straight, refusing to sit. “Sir, I remain vigilant against any unverified risk.” “She is the woman I brought into this house.” “And Poppy is the child I am sworn to protect.” He raised his head, his dark eyes terrifyingly sharp. If this were my past life, I would have panicked, stammered, and dug myself into a deeper hole. Not anymore. Someone who has already died once fears nothing, least of all a cold glare. “Sir, you don’t have to like my methods,” I said, my voice steady as stone. “But please look at the objective logs.” “Before Miss Bianca’s arrival, Poppy’s night disturbances averaged once or twice a week.” “Since Miss Bianca arrived, Poppy has displayed active avoidance, severe night terrors, unexplained fevers, and now an unregistered chemical substance in her room. Every single incident is logged on a verified timeline.” Gavin’s voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. “Are you accusing her?” “I am eliminating threats.” “What if your suspicions are completely wrong?” I looked him in the eye, delivering every word with absolute clarity. “If I am wrong, I will resign, issue a public apology, and pay for any reputational damage out of my own pocket.” “But if I am right, sir, have you considered what happens to Poppy?” The study fell into a suffocating silence. Gavin’s face turned terrifyingly pale, the atmospheric pressure in the room plunging to sub-zero. Yet I didn’t back down an inch. In my past life, I backed down too much. I backed down until Poppy died, and until I died in that dark basement. Gavin stared at me for an eternity before finally uttering two words: “Get out.” I turned to leave. Just as my hand touched the brass doorknob, he spoke again. “Hannah.” I paused. “You had better really be doing this for Poppy.” I turned back to him. “Sir, everything I do has only ever been for her.” That night, Poppy slept restlessly. I sat by her bedside, watching her tiny face scrunched up in discomfort, gently holding her small hand. She didn’t wake up, but she squeezed my fingers tighter. I knew Bianca was running out of patience. And I was ready to spring my own trap in the glasshouse nursery to rip off her mask once and for all. I went to Bernard first. “Is the backup security feed in the glasshouse still off the main server?” Bernard paused. “How did you know about that?” In my past life, Bianca used that exact blind spot to harm Poppy. “Poppy dropped her toy blocks there last week,” I lied smoothly. “I wanted to check the footage to see how she stumbled, but the angle was dead.” Bernard didn’t press further. He had the tech team fix the angle that afternoon and rerouted the feed straight to the legal department’s secure server. Next, I replaced the tiny tracker inside Poppy’s plush bunny charm. The outer fabric remained identical, but inside sat a state-of-the-art GPS tracker and a crystal-clear emergency audio recorder. It was standard equipment from the Montgomery security firm, completely justified for a high-profile child. I squatted down in front of Poppy. “If Auntie Hannah isn’t next to you and you feel scared, press the bunny’s ear three times.” Poppy blinked her big eyes. “Will a superhero come?” I forced a smile, though tears stung my eyes. “Faster than any superhero.” Finally, I notified Dr. Bennett, requesting him to be on standby at the estate under the guise of observing Poppy’s behavioral distress near the garden. Dr. Bennett looked at me with complex emotions. “Hannah, it feels like you’re waiting for something horrible to happen.” “I pray it never happens,” I said softly. But Bianca couldn’t help herself. 5 On Friday afternoon, the Montgomery family held a private dinner. Bianca accompanied Gavin to the estate early. She wore an elegant baby-blue dress, a diamond engagement bracelet sparkling on her wrist, a gift from Gavin. In my past life, they were already officially engaged by this time. In this life, because of my relentless security measures, their progress had slowed, but Bianca still held a firm grip on Gavin’s trust. Late in the afternoon, Poppy woke up from her nap. While I was changing her clothes, Tessa, one of the younger maids, knocked and entered. “Hannah, the medical center said the lab results need your personal signature.” In my past life, it was Tessa too. She later confessed at my grave that Bianca had bribed her with a massive sum to lead Poppy into the glasshouse alone. I looked at Tessa’s trembling, pale fingers and nodded calmly. “Alright, I’ll go down.” I handed Poppy over to Mrs. Gable, a trusted senior nursemaid. Then, right in front of Tessa, I gently squeezed Poppy’s plush bunny charm. “Poppy, remember what Auntie Hannah taught you.” Poppy nodded dutifully. I walked out of the nursery, but I didn’t head to the medical office. Instead, I slipped into the security monitoring booth right down the hall. Bernard was already waiting inside. On the multi-screen display, we watched Tessa trick Mrs. Gable into leaving, claiming old Thomas wanted to see Poppy perform a nursery rhyme. Tessa led Poppy out of the room. Poppy reached the top of the stairs, paused, and looked back, searching for me. My fingernails dug so deep into my palms that they nearly drew blood. Bernard’s face turned thunderous. “How dare she…” “Wait,” I whispered. “Just a few more seconds.” I wasn’t holding back out of cruelty. If we barged in right now, Bianca could easily play victim and claim it was all a misunderstanding. I needed her to rip off her own sweet mask with her own hands. The moment Poppy was led into the glasshouse garden, Bianca was already waiting inside. She squatted down, offering a sweet smile and waving at Poppy. “Poppy, come look at the new orchids Bianca bought for you.” Poppy didn’t move an inch. Her tiny fingers found the plush bunny’s ear. Once. Twice. Three times. Inside the security control room, a silent red indicator light flashed brightly. My heart hammered violently against my ribs. Noticing Poppy’s movement, the warmth vanished from Bianca’s face. “Who taught you that?” She stood up, taking heavy steps toward the tiny child. “Was it Hannah?” Poppy backed away, her voice trembling. “I want Auntie Hannah!” Bianca bent over, her voice dropping to an icy whisper. Yet every single word was captured crystal clear by the microphone. “If you keep calling for her, she’ll get thrown out of this house because of you.” Poppy’s lower lip quivered, tears welling up. Bianca reached out, grabbing Poppy’s frail arm in a painful grip, while raising her other hand high into the air. “Your brother is going to have his own real family soon. If you know what’s good for you, stop clinging to him like a leech!” I slammed open the control room door and sprinted out. Bernard was even faster, slamming the master alarm button. By the time I crashed through the glasshouse doors, Bianca was staring down at Poppy with a dark, twisted expression. Hearing the loud crash, she instantly released her grip on Poppy. Then, she stumbled backward onto the marble floor, her eyes instantly overflowing with tears as she shrieked: “Hannah! Please don’t push the child!”

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1 At the university showcase, my mother forced me onto a sixteen-foot platform to “build endurance.” Born with a severe heart defect, I was terrified, clutching a ten-pound prop. Sharp agony stabbed my chest. “Your heart is weak because you never exercise!” she’d barked backstage. “Stop acting like a cowardly loser!” When my arms trembled, my adopted sister Kristin hissed, “Don’t slack off! It’s only been minutes!” Mom’s icy voice buzzed in my earpiece: “University trustees are watching. Hold that prop three more hours after the show!” I rasped into the mic, “Mom, it hurts so bad…” She cut the audio. “Endure it! My position doesn’t mean special treatment!” Kristin stomped my ankle, spinning back to dance. For three endless hours, not one person noticed I’d stopped breathing and fallen. Crimson soaked my white dress. My soul floated above. Mom, you’ll never be embarrassed by your cowardly daughter again. … The moment my heart ceased beating, the agony was so intense that my throat had paralyzed. Every bone in my body felt shattered beyond repair. Kristin finished her grand finale, surrounded by admiring classmates. She strutted off stage like a proud white swan, only to frown deeply when she spotted me lying motionless on the floor. “Hey, Wendy! What are you playing dead for?” She walked over and slammed her heel directly onto my hand, grinding her weight into my fingers. I didn’t flinch, because I was truly dead. “Unbelievable!” Kristin snapped, grinding her shoe harder. “You play the helpless victim at home, and now you want everyone at school to think I bully you? You malicious, useless freak!” Furious that I offered no reaction, Kristin kicked my shins repeatedly with ruthless force. Deep purple bruises rapidly bloomed across my sickly pale skin. Several students gathered around, whispering among themselves. “Kristin is so brilliant and beautiful, how does she have such a pathetic, sickly sister?” My soul let out a bitter smile in the air. We weren’t even related by blood. A few classmates started to look genuinely concerned. “Kristin, Wendy has a serious heart condition. Is she actually hurt?” “Yeah, that wooden prop weighed ten pounds. A healthy person would struggle to hold it that long, let alone someone with heart disease.” Kristin scoffed, her eyes instantly brimming with fake tears. “You’ve all been fooled by her! Ever since we were kids, whenever Mom asks her to do chores, she fakes a medical emergency.” “She just envies me. She envies my healthy body, and she hates that I can live a normal life while she can’t!” Floating above, I reached out helplessly, wanting to explain to everyone that I never envied her. I only admired her, like an ugly duckling admiring a swan. Before I could process her lies, my mother marched out from backstage. She wrapped her arms around Kristin, comforting her affectionately, before turning to spit on my limp body. “Wendy, you are a disgrace to this family!” my mother yelled. “Kristin danced for hours without a single complaint, yet you make a scene over nothing!” “I am an administrative director at this university, and I gave birth to a lazy, deceitful parasite like you!” “Do you have any idea that if tonight’s event is ruined, every performing student will receive a disciplinary mark on their record? How can you be so selfish?!” She delivered several heavy slaps directly across the back of my head. My lifeless head jolted back and forth with the force, swaying like a broken ragdoll. Her public condemnation silenced the crowd. The lingering sympathy in the students’ eyes vanished, replaced by anger and disgust, believing I was trying to ruin their grades. Over the years, to ensure I received proper care, my mother had worked her way up from an elementary school administrator to a university director. I had seen every sacrifice she made for me. “Wendy, get up right now!” My mother’s face turned livid as she stared at my unmoving body. “Have you no shame?!” “You’ve been timid and stubborn since you were little. How are you ever going to survive in the real world? Everything I do is for your own good!” The surrounding students murmured with admiration for my mother’s dedication. “Director Ross is such an amazing mother. Wendy doesn’t appreciate how lucky she is!” “Yeah, she doesn’t learn anything good, she just knows how to slack off and drag everyone else down!” Kristin snuggled deeper into my mother’s arms, urging impatiently, “Stop acting, Wendy! Get up! When the university board members come out, how is Mom supposed to explain this?” I hovered above them, panicked and desperate, terrified of causing trouble for my mother. But a corpse cannot move. Enraged by my silence, my mother reached down, grabbing my hair, yanking my head back so hard it nearly tore my scalp. “What did I do to deserve a child like you?” my mother wept with frustration. “Your father died young, and you were born sick! I raised you all by myself, and now that your wings are grown, this is how you repay me?!” “I just wanted you to perform on stage to build your confidence, and you hold a grudge and embarrass me on purpose!” Her words pierced my soul like daggers. Because I knew how much she suffered after Dad passed away, I tried so hard to stay alive. I had seen her cry into her pillow in the dead of night, bearing an unimaginable burden. I obeyed every single order she gave me. When I was seven, she said I needed to overcome my fears, so she left me alone in a dark haunted house attraction, forcing me to find my way out through my own sobs. In middle school, she said I needed to build my heart’s endurance, so she forced me to stay awake for three consecutive days, which landed me in the intensive care unit for two months. And tonight, she forced me to hold a ten-pound prop on a sixteen-foot platform, inflicting both mental and physical torture upon my fragile body. I never complained once. I just couldn’t handle it anymore, Mom… Determined to break my act, Kristin stepped forward to expose my private humiliations. “Wendy, if you don’t get up right now, I’ll tell everyone your dirty little secrets!” My mother encouraged her, “Tell them, Kristin! Give her a taste of her own medicine, or she’ll think she can walk all over us!” Fear ran cold through my spiritual form. Please, no! Don’t do this! Does my dignity mean nothing to you? Kristin crossed her arms, smirking triumphantly. “Wendy is such a coward that she sleeps with the lights on every night. If the lights go out, she wets her bed from fear!” “Our balcony is constantly filled with her washed bedsheets. She smells like urine all the time, and no amount of perfume can hide it!” The surrounding students immediately covered their noses, taking several steps back from my body. “That’s disgusting! No wonder the handmade gifts she gave us during orientation smelled weird!” My face flushed pale with shame. I had stayed up for nights making those orientation gifts for my classmates, ensuring every single item was washed and spotless. Kristin wasn’t done. “And to make matters worse, she actually had the nerve to crush on the campus golden boy! She wrote him over twenty love letters!” She pulled a thick stack of envelopes from her tote bag and tossed them onto the floor. A handsome guy standing nearby looked as if he had swallowed a fly. “Gross! Who would ever like a crippled girl with a diseased heart?” He turned on his heel and walked away. The crowd burst into loud laughter. I covered my face in the air, sobbing silently, unable to look. My private teenage feelings were laid bare, served as a joke for everyone to mock. Seeing that I still didn’t move, my mother’s eyes turned entirely cold. “Still playing dead, are we, Wendy?” She turned to the stage crew. “Fine! Hook her up to the aerial rigging wires! Suspend her near the ceiling and leave her there! Let’s see how long she can hold out!” The auditorium’s wire rigging system was rarely used because untrained individuals could suffer severe rope burns or injuries. Suspending someone that high without harness training was extremely dangerous. The crowd grew quiet, sensing things were going too far. Kristin, however, cheered in approval. “Mom, you really know how to discipline her! She won’t be able to fake it up there!” My mother called over two security guards, who wrapped the wire harness around my waist and chest. As they pulled the straps tight, bright red blood seeped through my dress, drawing shocked gasps from the audience. “Oh my god, look! Wendy is bleeding! Is she actually hurt?!” My mother let out a cold sneer, grabbing the hoist rope to raise my body slowly into the air. “Don’t be ridiculous! It’s just a little blood, it won’t kill her!” Kristin leaned down, pretending to sniff the blood on the floor, her expression filled with disdain. “Mom, this is just cherry syrup! Wendy is definitely acting!” I opened my mouth in silent agony, unable to comprehend why she would invent such a lie to smear me. For years, I had treated her like my own flesh and blood sister. Slowly, my body rose higher and higher into the rafters. The tight harness cut deep into my pale skin. My limbs dangled at unnatural, twisted angles, a posture impossible for a living human being to hold. If my mother had taken just one careful look, she would have noticed. At that moment, several visiting university executives walked backstage. Among them was my late father’s former colleague, Uncle Marcus. Uncle Marcus froze in horror, shouting frantically, “Evelyn! Wendy is sick! What are you doing? You’re going to kill her!” Kristin quickly stepped in front of him. “Uncle Marcus, you misunderstand! Mom is just disciplining my sister!” “Disciplining her?” My mother nodded, her face full of resentment. “Marcus, you have no idea how twisted this girl’s mind is! I wanted her to gain some courage on stage, and she fakes a faint to humiliate me! If I don’t discipline her now, how can I face her late father?” Uncle Marcus fell silent. It was difficult to interfere in another family’s domestic discipline, especially when spoken with such authority. As my body reached the highest point of the ceiling, my mother turned away, heading toward the administration conference room for the event debriefing. Before leaving, she instructed Kristin softly, “Keep an eye on your sister. If she starts showing genuine signs of heart distress, lower her down and give her medicine.” Kristin nodded obediently. After my mother left, the performing students were ordered to remain in the auditorium while the administration discussed the showcase’s outcome. “It’s all Wendy’s fault! Because she slacked off, we’re all stuck waiting in this heat!” “I just want to go back to my dorm, this is unbearable!” Uncle Marcus, still standing near the stage, suddenly pointed up at my suspended body and yelled, “Lower Wendy down right now! Her condition is completely wrong, and she’s dripping blood!” Kristin rolled her eyes. “Uncle Marcus, she tricked you. That’s just cherry syrup! Smear some on your fingers and smell it yourself!” She wiped her hand on the floor and held it out. Uncle Marcus sniffed it and frowned. “It really is syrup… I can’t believe such a sweet child turned so rebellious.” I clenched my ghostly fists, unable to utter a single word of defense. Kristin smiled, commanding the guards, “Hoist her higher! Make her admit her mistake faster!” The strain on my ballet dress caused the fabric to tear loudly, exposing my heavily bruised torso. Meanwhile, in the conference room, my mother was apologizing profusely to the board members. “I am so sorry, everyone. My daughter Wendy messed up on stage due to her poor stamina. She’s been shy and timid since childhood, complaining about heart pain even when walking fast. I’ve disciplined her, and I assure you it won’t happen again.” My mother, who held her head high everywhere she went, bent her spine repeatedly for my sake. The board members concluded that since the live stream didn’t capture my fall, the incident was manageable. A senior female director sitting near my mother remarked gently, “Director Ross, given Wendy’s heart condition, she doesn’t really need to perform on stage.” My mother waved her hand defensively. “How can I let her off so easily? It’s for her own good! If I don’t push her to build courage, she’ll end up a complete burden to society!” I felt a surge of overwhelming guilt. I’m so sorry, Mom… Simultaneously, photos of my body suspended in the auditorium rafters spread rapidly across campus group chats, making me the laughingstock of the entire university. A few board members felt the punishment was getting out of hand. “Director Ross, maybe that’s enough for tonight. She’s still young, moderation is key.” My mother remained resolute. “Thank you for your concern, but I cannot back down. If I don’t teach her a lesson tonight, she will rely on me for the rest of her life!” Suddenly, a terrified scream echoed from the hallway outside. “Oh my god! The rigging wire snapped!”

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1 Born in the slums, I accidentally unlocked the strange ability to understand cockroaches. When I was little, my alcoholic foster father tried to sell me to an old man to settle his gambling debts. The roaches whispered in my ear, warning me to hide in the crawlspace beforehand. When I grew older and shady drunks lurked near my doorstep, the roaches scurried over to tell me to deadbolt the doors and call the police. Relying on this bizarre gift, I studied like crazy and got accepted into Grand Capital University. Around the same time, my biological parents, the ultra-wealthy Brendons, finally tracked me down and welcomed me back into high society. Yet on the very first night of freshman year, I kidnapped the campus heartthrob and dragged him to the dorm roof, preparing to jump. Why? Because my roach friends informed me that Emily, the fake heiress assigned to my dorm, was setting a trap to frame me for arson. “The old roach living under your bunk sent me to pass the message,” a little beetle-like buddy had squeaked to me earlier. “That fake heiress is hell-bent on framing you and putting you behind bars!” I had fallen into deep thought upon hearing that. Emily didn’t just want me in prison; she wanted to alienate me from my biological parents forever. I needed an absolute, unbreakable alibi. So, I did the only logical thing. I snatched the passing campus heartthrob, Nate, dragged him up to the roof, and started a live stream. “Hey everyone, call the cops!” I yelled at my phone screen. “I just kidnapped Nate!” … The roof wind blew violently, stinging my skin. I kept an iron grip on Nate, dragging him all the way to the very edge of the concrete ledge. “Why are you so insanely strong?!” Nate struggled against my grip, his eyes wide. “Let go of me!” No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t break free. I grew up in the slums doing heavy manual labor, building up brute strength that no privileged college boy could match. He forced down his panic, trying to reason with me politely. “Willow, are you going through something terrible? Tell me, I can help you solve it. We don’t need to take such extreme measures.” I tilted my head, letting out an unhinged smile. “Sorry, Nate, but my problem can only be solved by live-streaming a rooftop jump!” Once my innocence was proven, I would apologize to Nate and accept whatever punishment he saw fit. Just then, the squeaky chatter of several roaches reached my ears again. “Boss! Emily is making her move! She conspirated with your other two roommates!” “Yeah, she even managed to lift your fingerprints and installed a hidden camera beforehand! She’s setting up an airtight frame-job!” “I heard they hired a hacker to forge footage of you lighting the fire in the dorm!” My heart sank, a wave of coldness spreading down my spine. I should have guessed it. Ever since the Brendons brought me back, Emily had been suspiciously sweet to me. She showered me with warm concern and insisted on rooming with me in the university dorms. That fake kindness was merely a tactic to lower my guard. After all, she was just an impostor occupying a spot that wasn’t hers. She was terrified I would reclaim everything that belonged to me. So she decided to strike first, using an arson setup to destroy me completely. Emily understood human nature all too well. I was an unrefined kid from the slums. Most members of the Brendon family already assumed I possessed terrible moral character. Once the dorm caught fire, a girl like me would be unable to defend herself, disgraced, and thrown out of the family forever. I exhaled a heavy breath. With the help of my roach friends, I had managed to pull myself out of the gutter and survive against all odds. I was not about to go down without a fight. I looked at my phone screen. The live stream’s local viewer count was exploding. The chat box flooded with furious comments. Holy crap! Is she actually holding him hostage? Is this chick crazy? If she can’t have the golden boy, she wants to destroy him?! I know her! Her name is Willow! Word is she grew up in the urban slums! No wonder she’s so unhinged and extreme! Nate, don’t be scared! We called the cops! They’re on their way! Is she trying to get famous? Streaming a fake kidnapping to gain followers is beyond disgusting! If you want to jump, jump by yourself! Don’t drag an innocent guy down with you and waste public resources! I feel so bad for Nate! He’s still trying to talk her down! A tsunami of insults slammed into me through the screen, but I felt no hurt whatsoever. In fact, I felt immensely relieved. The harsher they cursed, the higher the stream metrics climbed, and the more witnesses I gained. I was constructing the most rock-solid alibi imaginable. My smile grew wilder as I yelled into the phone camera, “That’s right! My name is Willow, student ID zero-two-one-four-six-two! I’m completely nuts!” “Everyone listen carefully! The time is currently nine-seventeen PM!” 2 “I have been on this rooftop the whole time, holding Nate hostage and preparing to jump!” At my brazen declaration, the chat box went eerily still for a second. The viewers were genuinely spooked by my mental state. Nate’s dark eyes narrowed, staring intensely at my face. “Willow… do you have a hidden motive for doing this?” He was sharp. Extremely sharp. I leaned closer, my warm breath brushing against his ear. “Nate, just be a good boy and play along with me tonight.” Before he could reply, the heavy iron roof door burst open. Nate’s die-hard fan girls rushed onto the roof. “Willow, are you insane?! Let go of Nate right now!” The leader of the group, Hannah, screamed in terror, her entire body shaking. The other girls joined in, shouting curses at the top of their lungs. “You shameless bitch! Are you doing this just to get Nate’s attention?! You don’t deserve him!” “I knew trash like her shouldn’t have been admitted to Grand Capital University! slum-born garbage will always be trash at heart!” “Nate, don’t be afraid! We called the police! This lunatic isn’t getting away tonight!” Their insults grew nastier by the second. Seeing me completely unbothered, Hannah gritted her teeth and took a step forward. “Willow, I’m warning you one last time…” I didn’t even bother replying. I simply dragged Nate back half a step toward the ledge. Nate instinctively glanced down at the dizzying drop behind him, his fingers tightening in panic. I glanced sideways at him. Ah, the campus golden boy is afraid of heights. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, forcing his voice to stay steady. “Everyone… stay back! She’s emotional right now, don’t provoke her!” Unfortunately, Hannah was too riled up to listen. Tears of rage spilled down her cheeks. “Willow, are you satisfied now?! Look at how terrified you’re making him!” The other girls grew hysterical, pointing fingers at my face. “She was just brought back by the Brendon family, but she’s still a low-class street rat using cheap tricks to clout-chase!” “Ahhh, go die! If you want to die, jump alone! Don’t drag Nate down with you!” Some of them even pulled rotten eggs out of their bags and threw them at me. I didn’t even blink. Growing up, I had beer bottles smashed over my head, cigarette butts snuffed on my skin, and leftover food thrown in my face. A few rotten eggs were nothing to me. “Take another step forward, and I’ll take Nate over the edge right now,” I warned coldly. I pulled Nate back another half step. This time, half of his feet hung in midair above the drop. Everyone froze in absolute horror. She’s insane! She’s an actual psychopath! You can’t reason with her! Where are the cops?! Nate is so unfortunate! Getting wrapped up with a crazy woman for no reason! Please, lady, stop provoking her! What if she actually jumps?! During the standoff, police officers and firefighters finally arrived at the scene. They quickly dispersed the crowd, shoving Hannah and the fan girls back behind the roof door to avoid triggering me further. The lead negotiator, a friendly senior officer, put on a gentle smile and spoke in a soothing tone, “Young lady, standing up here in the freezing cold night wind, what are you trying to accomplish?” “Getting into Grand Capital University isn’t easy. Millions of kids envy your position. Your parents worked hard to raise you. If something happens to you in a moment of impulse, think of how heartbroken they’ll be.” “Be a good girl. Release the young man first, and we can sit down and talk things through.” As he spoke, he took a subtle, barely noticeable step forward. Noticing his movement, I immediately made a gesture to lean back with Nate. The officer froze instantly, a layer of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead. 3 “Don’t, don’t, don’t! Don’t step back! I’m staying right here!” He wiped his forehead nervously. “Look at you, kid, why are you so stubborn?!” “Fine, fine, I won’t move! You don’t move either! Let’s just talk from right here, okay?” Down below, the fire department had already inflated a massive air cushion. The officer exhaled in relief, then said with deep concern, “Young lady, did someone mistreat you at school? Is someone bullying you? Tell me, and I’ll make sure justice is served!” I tilted my head, flashing him a wide, mischievous grin. “Nobody bullied me! I just wanted to catch some fresh air, and brought Nate along for the ride.” The officer choked on his words, completely speechless. A younger cop behind him lost his temper, shouting sternly, “Willow! Stop being ungrateful! Your actions right now constitute a serious crime! Release the hostage immediately, or face the consequences!” The senior officer turned around and glared at the younger cop. “How are you speaking to a student?!” He turned back to me with another soft smile. “Young lady, how about this? Let the young man step over first, okay? I’ll stay here and talk with you for as long as you want.” Behind the iron door, the fan girls caused another commotion. “Officers, can you hurry up?! Nate clearly can’t hold on much longer!” “Just tackle her! Why are you afraid of a crazy woman?!” Nate was indeed in terrible shape. He was terrified of heights to begin with, and standing on the absolute edge for so long made his legs tremble uncontrollably. Yet he clamped his jaw shut, refusing to make a sound. “Boss! Your biological parents just got a call from the police and are rushing over!” My roach informants crept back to give me an update. “You have to hold out! Emily is ready! She’s about to light the fire to frame you!” I lowered my eyes, calculating the situation in my mind. The live stream heat had completely exploded. With so many witnesses on site and online, I no longer needed Nate as a hostage to maintain the spotlight. The wind was getting stronger, and if Nate had a genuine panic attack or slipped, the collateral damage wouldn’t be worth it. I released my grip on Nate, pushing him gently toward the safe zone near the officers. “Sure thing, officer! Let’s chat!” I smiled warmly at the senior negotiator, agreeing to his proposal. Nate regained his footing on solid ground, but he didn’t run away. He stood there, staring intently at my face. I tilted my head and winked at him. “What? Miss me already?” Nate remained silent, hastily averting his gaze. I didn’t bother with him anymore, turning around and hopping onto the concrete guardrail, letting my legs dangle freely over the edge. The crowd watching below let out a collective gasp of horror. The senior officer broke into a cold sweat again. “Willow, why are you sitting up there?! That’s dangerous, get down right now!” I closed my eyes, the cold wind whipping through my hair. The officer had asked if anyone had bullied me. When I was little, countless people bullied me. Luckily, my roach buddies had my back, constantly tipping me off. Otherwise, I would never have survived to adulthood. Later, I was brought back to the wealthy Brendon family. I thought I would no longer need roaches to protect myself. Yet the moment my high-society relatives saw me, their eyes were filled with unhidden disgust. “Is this the wild girl who grew up in the urban slums? She doesn’t look like a high-society heiress at all!” “I heard her foster father was a drunkard, and her foster mother ran off with another man!” “A child raised in that trash environment must be vulgar and unethical at heart!” “Emily is so much better, polite and elegant, truly a child raised by the Brendon family!” 4 Whenever those insults flew, Emily would gently wrap her arm around mine and say sweetly, “Willow just got back, she needs time to adapt. I believe she’ll make you all proud eventually.” Back then, I actually thought she was a sweet, kind sister. Little did I know, Emily was a snake under her sheep’s skin. Once again, my roach brothers had saved my life. Suddenly, another wave of commotion sounded near the roof door. “Willow! What on earth do you think you’re doing?!” I turned my head toward the voice. My biological mother, Elizabeth Brendon, stepped onto the roof in high heels and immaculate makeup, her face flushed with fury. “Willow, get down here this instant! Turn off that stream! Otherwise… I will disown you as my daughter!” Beside her stood my biological father, Addison Brendon, dressed in a sharp suit, his face dark as thunder. Oh my god, so Willow really is a Brendon heiress! Are the rumors true?! The Brendons are so unlucky! Such a prestigious family ruined by one bad apple! Don’t say that, what if she has a genuine reason? After all… Get out of here with that bleeding-heart nonsense! Who defends a kidnapper?! I sat on the guardrail, looking at them with a relaxed grin. “Oh, you guys finally made it?” “What kind of attitude is that?!” Elizabeth’s voice shook with rage, her chest heaving violently. “Look at yourself! What do you look like right now?!” “Sitting up there playing the victim, running a live stream for the whole city to see!” “Do you know what people online are saying right now?! They’re saying the daughter brought back by the Brendon family is a lunatic!” “Where am I supposed to hide my face?!” Hearing her tirade, I nodded thoughtfully. “They’re completely right. So why don’t you just pretend you never gave birth to me?” “Do you think I don’t want to?!” Elizabeth hissed under her breath, glaring at me. “I should have never brought you back! Emily is a thousand times better than you!” “If I knew you were this unhinged, I would have preferred to leave you in the gutter…” Listening to her cruel words, my heart felt strangely numb. Not a single ripple of sadness touched me. I suppose I was used to it. When I first returned to the Brendons, I tried really hard. I memorized complex etiquette rules and practiced how to smile politely. Yet when Elizabeth saw me practicing, she remarked with disgust, “You don’t need to fake it. Class is in your blood, and you can’t fake what you don’t have.” That was when I realized the Brendons didn’t just dislike my unrefined habits; they hated my very existence. They couldn’t accept that a child carrying Brendon blood had lived a dirty, wretched life in the slums. Addison looked up at me, his voice cold as ice. “Willow, I’ll give you three minutes to get down yourself. Otherwise, bear the consequences.” I burst out laughing, tilting my head at him. “What consequences? Throwing me out of the family?” “That would be fantastic. I’m begging you to do it.” Suddenly, an urgent roach squeak exploded in my ear. “Boss! It’s done! Emily set the fire! The dorm room is ablaze!” “The fire is spreading fast! The whole room is catching!” I exhaled softly. The curtain was finally rising. I slowly raised my eyes, looking at my furious biological parents, the anxious police officers, and finally… at Nate, who was still standing nearby. I offered Nate a gentle smile. Then, under everyone’s horrified gaze, I opened my arms and let my body fall backward off the ledge. “Willow… NO!” The wind roared in my ears like a deafening storm. As I plunged into the night air, I saw Nate and the firefighters rushing toward the guardrail. Nobody caught me. My body crashed heavily onto the inflated air cushion below, my mind going completely blank from the impact. Instantly, paramedics swarmed around me, lifting me onto a stretcher. “Vital signs are stable! Transport her to the hospital immediately!” “Girl, why do this to yourself?! What could be so terrible?!” The noisy voices faded into the distance. When I woke up again, I was lying in a hospital bed. Before I could process anything, two police officers walked into the room. “Willow, you are suspected of malicious arson in dorm room six-one-four at Grand Capital University. We are taking you into custody for investigation.”

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