My little brother is the most hated rising star on the internet. When we joined a family reality show together, he was walking on eggshells, while I roasted everyone in sight—I would have kicked a passing dog just on principle. My brother: “Sis, keep a low profile, I’m begging you.” The fans: “This is so satisfying! Keep roasting them, we love to see it!” 01 I had just returned from studying abroad when my younger brother, Hayes, took a gig on a family reality show. He invited our mom. She took a sip of her coffee and said coldly, “No. I can’t afford that kind of humiliation.” He invited our dad. Dad didn’t even look up from his stack of corporate files. “For five million an episode, I’ll consider it.” Hayes: “…” So, he could only turn his pleading eyes toward me. I waved a hand dismissively. “It’s just a reality show. I’ll go with you.” My mom looked at me like she wanted to say something, but held back. Hayes was so moved he practically cried. He hugged me tight. “Sis, you’re the absolute best. I’m so grateful for you.” I patted his head modestly. “Hayes is a big deal now. Having a superstar brother is my pride and joy.” Hayes looked a little embarrassed. “Sis, maybe you should check the internet first?” I had rushed back to the States so fast I hadn’t caught up on local news. Hearing him say that, I pulled out my phone and opened Twitter with a smile. Then, my smile froze. He was “popular,” alright—but not in a good way. Ever since he debuted two years ago, the internet had been flooded with non-stop hate. His singing and dancing were mediocre at best, yet he had debuted near the top of an idol survival show. People accused him of “crying” his way to a debut spot, and someone had even edited his dance compilation to look like a “geriatric physical therapy” video. In that exact moment, I severely regretted saying he was my “pride and joy.” And soon enough, Hayes would severely regret saying he was “grateful” for me. 02 The show, Dearest Family, was shooting at a luxury resort. It was a seven-day live-streamed event. From the moment we stepped onto the property, camera drones buzzed overhead. When Hayes and I arrived at the foot of the hill, another pair of guests was already there. The guy was around twenty-five, tall with a slight tan, accompanied by a girl in casual clothes. They were whispering to each other, and the girl looked visibly annoyed. Seeing us, she tilted her chin up and let out a cold scoff. Hayes leaned in and whispered in my ear. “That’s Carter Vance. He ranked twelfth and got eliminated in the survival show two years ago. The internet says I stole his debut spot.” I instantly understood. The producers were just trying to stir up drama for the ratings. As we walked over, Carter lowered his eyes and greeted us meekly, looking like a bullied victim. Hayes was so traumatized by the online hate that he was practically walking on thin ice. He reached out to shake hands with a painfully eager, people-pleasing smile. But even then, the live-stream chat was going rabid: “Carter is so pitiful. He actually has to shoot a show with the guy who stole his spot.” “Seeing Hayes’ fake, pretentious face makes me sick.” “Carter is too nice for initiating the greeting. Hayes has zero social awareness.” “If it wasn’t for his face, Hayes would have nothing on Carter!” I stood to the side, staring blankly at Carter until he flashed me a friendly smile. “You must be Hayes’ sister, right? I’m Carter Vance, and this is my little sister, Riley. She won the National Youth Dance Championship last year.” Right on cue, Riley smugly lifted her chin and looked at me with disdain. “Oh, Hayes actually has a sister?” Carter chimed in softly, “Hayes doesn’t like mentioning his family in public. It’s normal you didn’t know.” Riley’s sneer deepened. “Makes sense. For someone who debuted purely on his looks, his family probably isn’t very presentable anyway.” 03 The Vance siblings were coming out swinging from second one. I didn’t know if the producers put them up to it, but the chat was eating it up. “True, I’ve never found any background info on Hayes online.” “Some influencers analyzed that his family must be poor, otherwise he wouldn’t have used the ‘pity card’ to debut and make a quick buck.” My brows furrowed slightly. Seeing this, Hayes quickly grabbed my hand. “Sis, endure it. Please. Fan outrage is terrifying.” While we waited for the other guests, Carter and Riley rattled off like a machine gun. “The Youth Dance Championship—do you even know what that is? Ah, I forgot you probably never studied dance. You definitely wouldn’t know.” “Winning a national title is okay, I guess, but my real goal is to win an international competition within five years.” The chat showered them with praise: “Expected nothing less from Carter. Even his sister is outstanding.” “A dance champion! Compared to a certain someone who debuted high and knows nothing, the irony is thick.” “His sister isn’t even saying anything. Guess that whole family is just empty pretty faces.” As Riley got more and more carried away, I suddenly turned to my brother. “Go get me a bottle of water.” Hayes nodded obediently and trotted off to find a staff member. Watching him disappear, I finally turned my deadpan gaze back to them. “Carter? Your sister is a dance champion, but what about you? What titles or honors do you have?” I looked at the mocking man, pulled out my phone, and opened a search bar. “All the info I can find on you online is that you placed twelfth on a reality show. If you had any actual achievements, considering how much you love showing off, the PR articles would be flying everywhere by now, wouldn’t they?” Carter: “…” I turned to Riley. “National Dance Champion? Which competition? Which category? What scale? As far as I know, there are no less than twenty youth dance competitions in the US every year, and a dozen of them are worth even less than your brother’s twelfth-place finish.” Riley: “…” 04 Their faces turned from red to a very ugly shade of green. I calmly looked away. Sigh. I should hold back a little. No need to bully the kids too hard. I was ready to call a truce, but they weren’t letting it go. Riley’s eyes widened in defiance. “My brother is just low-key! Everyone knows he was better than Hayes on Idol Maker!” “Oh.” She choked, then took a deep breath. “Last year, I won the Dance Revolution championship. That’s a hell of a lot better than you and your talentless brother.” Dance Revolution. The name rang a bell. My nine-year-old niece had won it three years in a row. But last year, she thought the judging system was flawed and rejected the organizers’ invitation to return. Listening to Riley’s arrogance, I frowned. With the drone hovering above and the crew standing nearby, I walked over, pointed at Riley, and asked the staff, “She’s making personal attacks. Does production not care?” The crew member made a hand gesture. “This is a live broadcast. The directors can’t interfere during filming.” I had an epiphany. “So, you don’t care about insults?” “According to the rules, we can’t step in.” “Understood.” My simple questions sparked massive outrage in the chat. “What is she doing? Tattling? Is she in elementary school? Disgusting!” “Exactly like Hayes!” “I admit Riley is a bit arrogant, but at least she has talent. Does this woman only know how to run to the teachers?” “Production obviously wants drama. Tattling is useless. She looks like a clown.” “She only knows how to play these pathetic tricks behind people’s backs. Riley is much more straightforward.” 05 By the time I returned to the group, two more sets of guests had arrived. Riley was still dramatically recounting her glorious competition days. I listened for a moment, then spoke up. “Dance Revolution, huh? That rings a bell.” Everyone instinctively looked at me. Riley’s smile stiffened, but she raised an eyebrow smugly. “I’m impressive, aren’t I?” I smiled faintly. “They invited me, but I didn’t go.” “Why?” “Because I was overseas at the Golden Swan International Cup.” She was completely playing into my hands. Her eyes went wide in disbelief. “What place did you get?” The Golden Swan International Cup was one of the most prestigious, heavyweight dance competitions in the world. The chat went wild: “She’s bluffing, right? Does she even know how big the Golden Swan is?” “The competitors are the elites from every country. If she’s that good, how could Hayes be so untalented?” I raised my eyes and, under everyone’s expectant gazes, said completely deadpan: “Oh, I was a judge.” Riley: “…” The silence lasted for a full ten seconds. Then Riley shrieked, “You’re lying! You’re only in your early twenties! That’s impossible!” I tilted my head. “The Golden Swan is divided into twelve regional tracks. I was just a judge for one of them, not the grand finals.” Remembering something, I looked over at Carter, who was staring blankly. I let out a dry laugh. “Twelve tracks. That’s so funny. Just like your ranking.” Carter: “…” Riley was practically jumping in anger. “Impossible! You’re definitely lying.” I looked at her like she was an idiot. “The judges’ roster is public online. Oh, right—my name is Blair Sterling.” 06 At first, the audience reacted just like Riley—complete disbelief, fiercely accusing me of bragging. That was until someone posted a screenshot of the official judges’ roster from the Golden Swan website. In the screenshot, under the five judges for the sixth track, the name “Blair Sterling” was unmistakably there. “Holy shit, Blair Sterling really is a judge.” “My god, just competing is incredible, but she’s actually a judge?! How good is she?!” “She might be awesome, but Hayes still has zero talent. The fact that he stole Carter’s spot remains. His sister’s talent doesn’t change that.” “Exactly, don’t get it twisted. Even if Blair is a god, Hayes should still get out of the entertainment industry.” “Am I the only one who thinks Blair’s comebacks are brutal? Lmao, look at Carter’s face, he looks sick.” “…” The conversation ended when Hayes ran back happily with a bottle of water and handed it to me. I took it naturally and opened it. “What took you so long?” “They were short-handed setting up the venue, so I helped out a bit.” “Oh. Well, everyone’s here. Let’s go.” Hearing that, Hayes finally looked up and smiled at the others. Then, he shuffled closer to me and asked, thinking he was whispering, “Sis, why does the vibe feel so weird? What did you guys talk about while I was gone?” Carter and Riley’s venomous glares immediately locked onto me. I stayed completely composed and tilted my head. “Huh? Weird vibe? Not at all, we’re getting along fabulously.”

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Everyone knows that Manhattan’s most untouchable billionaire heir has a beloved dog. How much does he love it? When a popular Hollywood “It” girl’s perfume irritated the dog enough to make it sneeze, she was instantly blacklisted from the industry. That was, until I kicked his dog. Everyone thought I was completely ruined. No one knew that the dog was my breakup gift to the heir. First thing in the morning, the hashtag #HarperKicksDog shot to the top of the trending page. It started with a video shot by a bystander. In the clip, a woman kicked a Golden Retriever, sending the massive dog tumbling into a shallow ditch. The Golden Retriever dramatically collapsed at the bottom of the ditch, eyes squeezed shut, all four paws stiff in the air, looking absolutely dead. [Oh my god, animal abuse! That poor dog!] [This isn’t just abuse; she practically killed it! She needs to be in jail.] [You can tell just by looking at her that she’s a terrible person. Dox her!] At that point, the traction wasn’t huge. Until someone recognized the woman in the video was me. I am the entertainment industry’s most notorious “love-to-hate” actress. Normally, I get dragged into the trending topics just for sneezing. Let alone kicking a dog. In a flash, the hashtag skyrocketed to the number one spot on the entertainment charts. Haters flooded in, teaming up with outraged locals to hurl a tsunami of abuse at me. It escalated to the point where they were photoshopping gore and black-and-white memorial photos of me, cursing me to die. Soon enough, other celebrities jumped into the fray. Namely, my industry rival, Vanessa Blake. Vanessa was the current rising “It” girl. And she built that status by stepping on me. We had filmed a rustic farm-life reality show together, where she was edited to look hardworking and sweet, while I was portrayed as lazy and gluttonous. Vanessa posted a tweet: [Spreading love starts with me.] She attached a photo of herself volunteering at an animal rescue. It was a blatant jab at me. Sure enough, her fans flooded the replies, praising her for being beautiful inside and out—unlike some people with mean faces and toxic hearts. It sparked another massive wave of hate directed at me. Even as things reached this point, my manager was completely unfazed. It wasn’t that she considered me disposable. In fact, I was her only client and her biggest cash cow. She was calm because I got dragged online all the time. To her, this just meant another wave of free publicity. “As long as the Golden Retriever is fine, let them yell for a bit. We’ll post a cute selfie of you with the dog later, explain it was a misunderstanding, and this whole thing will blow over.” My manager had the entire PR strategy mapped out. She calmly sat beside me, snacking on sunflower seeds. That is, until someone on the internet discovered that this wasn’t just any dog. It was the beloved pet of the ultimate Manhattan billionaire heir. [Holy crap! That’s the Heir’s dog! Harper Evans is completely finished!] [Do you guys know how obsessed he is with that dog? An A-list starlet got blacklisted just because her perfume made that dog sneeze!] [Harper didn’t just irritate the dog; she literally kicked it. Being blacklisted is going to be the least of her worries.] [Tsk, karma always catches up. Grab your popcorn, let’s watch this toxic witch get destroyed.] My manager was no longer unfazed. She looked like the sky was falling. She immediately whipped around, dragged a suitcase out of the closet, and started frantically packing her things. “Maggie, what are you doing?” I asked curiously. “Packing so I can skip town! You think I’m going to sit here and wait for the apocalypse?” “Isn’t that an overreaction? All I did was kick that stupid mutt once.” Here is what actually happened: I was on location shooting promo photos yesterday. That stupid dog came out of nowhere and wouldn’t stop sticking to me. I didn’t want to see the person who owned it, so I nudged it away with my foot. I didn’t use any force at all. It dramatically threw itself into the ditch and played dead. It was just acting spoiled—that was its favorite trick. Because in the past, whenever it pulled that stunt, I would forgive it no matter what trouble it had caused. Too bad I wasn’t going to pamper it anymore. So, before it could react, I quickly slipped away. “Stupid mutt?! Are you actually calling the New York billionaire heir’s beloved pet a ‘stupid mutt’?!” Maggie looked like she was about to tear her hair out. Suddenly, her phone rang. She answered it with trembling hands. When she finally lowered the phone, all the color had drained from her face. “It’s over. We can’t run. The Heir is at our door.” Maggie had just received an offer for a reality show called Celebrity Kitchen. It was an A-list, top-tier variety show broadcasted entirely via live stream, boasting massive ratings. The guests they invited were usually Oscar winners and Grammy-level pop divas. Even though my name generated a lot of traffic, it was mostly trashy tabloid fame; I had no real prestigious work. I could never naturally land a resource this good. Normally, Maggie would have been over the moon. But now, she looked like she was attending a funeral. Because the biggest financial backer behind this show was none other than the Manhattan billionaire heir, Kingston Astor. This invitation felt exactly like walking into an execution. “Harper, reading between the lines… they made it clear that if you refuse, you’ll never book another job in this town again.” Maggie looked conflicted. “If you don’t go, you’re blacklisted. If you do go, he might make your life a living hell. Honestly, maybe you should just retire from showbiz?” I felt equally conflicted. I didn’t want to have anything to do with Kingston. But based on what I knew about him, his pride was carved into his bones. He seemed cold and difficult to approach, but he was a man of his word. Even though we had a bit of a dispute over the dog’s custody when we broke up, we generally parted on decent terms. Once the breakup was final, he wasn’t the type to stalk or exact petty revenge. So, inviting me to this show might have had nothing to do with him at all. Maybe the producers just wanted to exploit my current viral infamy for ratings? After all, my bad reputation was generating massive numbers. “Maggie, how much does the show pay?” She gave me a number. My eyes lit up. As expected of an A-list show, they threw cash around like water! To buy a giant mansion and retire early… I gritted my teeth. “Maggie, we’re taking the gig.” I officially announced my participation in Celebrity Kitchen. The internet was entirely filled with people gloating over my impending doom. [Isn’t the investor for Celebrity Kitchen the billionaire heir? He made a brief cameo in a video before. He’s incredibly hot. I must have replayed those few seconds a hundred times.] [Haha, seriously gorgeous. Plus, his dad is a Wall Street tycoon, his mom is a legendary director, his sister is an Oscar winner, and his older brother is a tech mogul. The ultimate heir.] [He might be hot, but his personality is supposedly ruthless, and he’s wildly protective of his own. Especially that dog. Remember the trending hashtag #ManRushesGoldenRetrieverToVetInTheRain? That man was the heir.] [Hahaha, Harper Evans is so dead. He invited her to Celebrity Kitchen just to torture her on live television, right?] [I was planning to go throw trash at her house, but since the billionaire heir is handling it, I’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.] Shortly after, Vanessa Blake also announced she was joining Celebrity Kitchen. Maggie rolled her eyes. “Is she a piece of gum on our shoe? We can’t shake her.” Vanessa’s fans, however, were ecstatic. Most of them were fiercely protective “mom” fans. And their ultimate dream son-in-law was the billionaire heir. Kingston had the looks, the pedigree, the competence—he was top-tier in every category. In their eyes, he was barely worthy of their perfect, fairy-like daughter. Furthermore, they had actually managed to dig up some “clues.” Once, the luxury SUV that picked Vanessa up from set belonged to Kingston. Not only that, but she had posted a photo of a Golden Retriever’s back on her Instagram. The dog looked remarkably like Kingston’s. Being allowed to walk his beloved dog obviously meant she had an intimate relationship with him. All signs pointed to the billionaire heir being the mysterious man backing their precious Vanessa! [Did the Heir personally invite her on the show?] [No way, no way! Is the Heir finally getting impatient and ready to go public?!] [He’s probably been dying to go public so he can openly dote on her. But because our girl wants to focus on her career, she made him keep it a secret. The Heir finally snapped, pulled her into his arms, and said: “Woman, I can’t hide you anymore.”] [Ahhh that narrative is so good, keep it coming!] Vanessa’s fanbase was partying like it was New Year’s Eve. And naturally, they didn’t forget to trample all over me in the process. [I heard a certain someone was also invited. The Heir and our girl are going to tag-team destroy her.] [Can’t wait to watch them beat the drowning dog.] [Hey, don’t insult dogs. That woman doesn’t even deserve the comparison.] Before long, Celebrity Kitchen began broadcasting. Maggie dropped me off at the live stream location. The show had strict rules: no managers and no assistants allowed on set. So Maggie had to say a tearful goodbye at the front gates. “If the producers try to torture you, just endure it for the sake of avoiding the breach-of-contract penalty.” She paused, then added, “But if it gets truly unbearable, I’ll sell my kidney to pay your buyout fee.” I felt a mix of exasperation and genuine warmth. I reached out and gave her a tight hug. “Don’t worry, Maggie. I’ll be fine.” The shooting location for this season was an expansive, rustic farmhouse estate in the Hudson Valley, full of vintage charm. After saying goodbye to Maggie, I walked in. There were five guests in total. Vanessa and I were the new additions. The other three were Oscar-winning actor Harrison Reed, pop diva Serena Cole, and the current teen heartthrob Liam Pierce. When I arrived, Vanessa, Serena, and Liam were already there. Vanessa had said something that made Serena giggle uncontrollably, and the way Liam looked at Vanessa was painfully tender. The moment I stepped inside, the atmosphere instantly froze. Liam and Vanessa in particular looked at me with open hostility. My chaotic fans had previously shipped me and Liam, editing romantic fan-cams of us. Liam, however, felt I was leeching off his popularity. Whenever we shared a stage, he stayed as far away from me as physically possible. He had even publicly expressed his disdain for me. Simultaneously, he was a massive simp for Vanessa. Sadly for him, Vanessa didn’t give him the time of day. I greeted Serena politely. Liam acted like he was terrified I would speak to him and immediately scurried to Vanessa’s other side. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. Who wants to talk to you anyway, you narcissist? Shortly after, the Oscar-winning actor arrived. “Sorry to keep everyone waiting! But I’m not the last one here. We have a mystery guest!” Harrison wasn’t just a guest; he effectively acted as the host, guiding the flow of the show. “Our guest is a big deal. He’s the youngest billionaire on the Forbes list… and this is his first ever reality show appearance…” Harrison knew exactly how to hype up the crowd, rattling off a string of impressive titles. At this point, both the guests and the viewers watching the live stream had their suspicions. Vanessa’s fans had completely taken over the live chat. [No way, no way! Is it really him? I thought he’d just make a cameo, but he’s actually a guest!] [He definitely came for Vanessa. Ah, he loves her so much, I totally approve of this marriage.] Harrison dragged out the suspense before finally dropping the name. “Let’s give a warm welcome to our mystery guest, Kingston Astor!” Honestly, the moment Harrison mentioned a mystery guest, I had a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach. I kept a calm poker face, but inside I was panicking. No way, no way. Is Kingston actually participating in this show? Doesn’t that mean we’re going to be staring at each other all day? How awkward is it to be stuck with your ex? What the hell is he thinking? I held onto a sliver of hope, praying to every deity that it wasn’t him. Until Harrison said the name, and that tall, striking figure stepped onto the set. My last shred of hope shattered. Objectively, Kingston was breathtaking. He stood six-foot-two, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and incredibly long legs. Because his grandmother was European, he had a stunning mixed-heritage bone structure with deep-set features and pale amber eyes. Add to that his aura of cold, untouchable old money. Just standing there, he made the trendy teen heartthrob Liam look like a valet parking attendant. And he didn’t come alone. In his hand, he held the leash of a massive Golden Retriever. The Golden Retriever was bouncing out of its skin, barking enthusiastically in our direction. If Kingston hadn’t been gripping the leash so tightly, the dog would have charged right at us. Kingston swept his gaze toward our group, his deep eyes unreadable. Simultaneously, the live chat exploded. [Oh my god! The Heir brought his beloved dog to the show!] [He is SO hot. That face, that body, he’s basically a god. I’m drooling.] Vanessa’s fans chimed in right on cue: [Hey, wipe your mouths, the Heir belongs to our girl.] [Wait, bringing the dog to the show… he’s letting the dog exact its own revenge!] [Looks like the Heir is legitimately furious. Look at that Golden Retriever barking at them, it must despise that toxic witch. Grab your popcorn, the show is about to start!] When Kingston appeared, whether it was due to his freezing aura or the wildly barking dog, no one spoke. The silence was deafening. “What an adorable dog! Can I pet him?” Vanessa finally broke the ice. [Hehe, our girl’s acting is so good. She’s obviously walked the dog before, but she’s pretending this is their first meeting.] [She’s definitely super close with the Golden Retriever. Watch it pounce on her the second she gets close.] [Oh man, is their secret romance about to be exposed?!] [Bold theory: The Heir did this on purpose. This man is so calculating.] [Manipulative mastermind boyfriend, hehe, I love this dynamic.] Vanessa walked toward Kingston, looking at the Golden Retriever with overflowing affection, and reached out a hand to pet it. I watched with cold indifference. I had to admit, Vanessa was a spectacular actress. Previously, when we filmed the farm-life show, the host family owned a dog. Vanessa absolutely despised it and threw a tantrum until the dog was banished to a locked vegetable garden. I used to sneak it leftover bones. When the show aired, the editing team twisted the narrative entirely. They made it look like I was the diva who demanded the dog be locked up, and framed Vanessa as the sweet angel sneaking it food. However, this stupid dog was just as neurotic and elitist as its owner. Furthermore, it was highly intelligent—practically psychic. It knew exactly who actually liked it and who didn’t. Vanessa was about to kick a steel plate… Sure enough, the stupid dog violently leaped backward. Its canine face practically spelled out the words: Don’t touch me, peasant. Then, it furiously kicked its hind legs, launching a fistful of dirt straight into Vanessa’s face. The set fell dead silent.

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During a reality show, my phone’s lock screen was exposed. It was a picture of Manhattan’s most elusive, old-money billionaire heir. The internet immediately tore me apart, accusing me of clout-chasing. My rival starlet sneered, “Delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” That very night, the billionaire heir created an official X (Twitter) account just to post: [She uses a picture of her own man as her wallpaper. Delusional? Are you out of your fing minds?]* 1 I am a trending actress in Hollywood. To build up some hype, I joined a highly popular, live-streamed reality TV show. The very first game required us to call our top pinned contact and invite them to dinner. If they refused, we failed the challenge. I pinched my phone, looking troubled as I racked my brain. Chloe Sterling strolled over to my side, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “What are you thinking about, Serena? Are you afraid of failing?” She was a big deal in the industry. We shared the exact same career trajectory when we blew up, making us undeniable rivals. Right now, though she was smiling, her eyes held a hidden, mocking glint. I glanced at her and stayed quiet. Given the time difference in Europe, my top pinned contact was definitely dead asleep right now. Even if I got lucky and woke him up, expecting him to cross the Atlantic just to eat dinner with me seemed pretty unrealistic. Seeing me ignore her, Chloe looked a bit annoyed. “Serena, why aren’t you saying anything?” The live chat was already coming for me: [This Serena Blake is so rude. Chloe is trying to interact with her and give her screen time, and she’s just giving her a resting bitch face?] [She’s probably pinning some guy who strung her along. She’s terrified of the embarrassment when he rejects her, lol.] [So annoying! Chloe is beautiful and sweet, don’t pay attention to this trashy girl.] I snapped back to reality and met her fixed stare. “Sorry, I zoned out.” She smirked at me provocatively, urging, “Then hurry up and start.” I had no choice but to slowly unlock my phone, revealing my top pinned contact. I never had the habit of setting long nicknames. My pinned contact was simply the letter “F”. Live chat: [Who is that? F? Doesn’t even have a full name? Probably some random nobody.] [Agreed. This girl doesn’t even have any friends in the industry. She’s struggling so hard.] I hit the audio call button. The dial tone echoed from the speaker. Once, twice… The ringing filled the room, but no one picked up. Chloe covered her mouth, giggling. “Are you not close with this person? Why aren’t they answering?” He was definitely fast asleep. I didn’t bother explaining. I just lowered my eyes, fully prepared for the call to automatically disconnect. Chloe looked like she was enjoying a show. “If you can’t even reach your top contact, we should just announce that you…” Before she could finish her sentence, the ringing abruptly stopped. The call connected. A lazy, incredibly magnetic, deep voice came through the speaker. It was thick with the raspy tone of someone who had just woken up. “Hello? “What’s wrong, baby?” 2 Chloe froze. The live chat instantly went ballistic. [Holy sh*t! This voice is lethal! I’m pregnant!] [Hold off on the pregnancy, didn’t you hear him call her baby?!] [Omg omg omg, if I dated a guy online with this voice, I’d let him scam me out of my life savings!] [Just asking quietly… is this Serena’s boyfriend?] I hadn’t expected to actually wake him up. I always thought he kept his phone off when he slept. But right now, I couldn’t care less about that. I just wanted this segment to be over. “Do you want to get dinner together tonight?” He clearly paused. “Tonight? “Your tonight?” Chloe looked confused. “Who is this guy? Why does he have to specify ‘your tonight’?” Her fans echoed: [Lmao, looks like she found herself a long-distance loser boyfriend.] I ignored her and continued, “Yeah.” The person on the other end didn’t hesitate for a second, his voice gradually clearing up. “Alright. I’ll have the jet prepped now.” I was stunned. “You’re really coming?” There was a rustling sound through the speaker, like he was getting out of bed. Then came his teasing voice. “It’s rare for you to take the initiative. Even if I have to cross the ocean, I’m going.” Live chat: [Wait, what?! Cross the ocean? He’s flying internationally just for dinner??] [No wonder he asked about ‘tonight’, he’s definitely in a different time zone right now!] [Who is Mr. F?! The bar is on the floor and he just raised it to the sky!!] Chloe’s face looked a bit ugly. She seemed displeased that I had stolen the spotlight. She gritted her teeth and raised her hand. “I’ll go next.” The host immediately passed the mic to her. She aggressively tapped into her pinned contacts. The name was boldly displayed: “Felix T.” Just as she hoped, the chat started spamming. [Felix T.? Is that the Felix I’m thinking of?] [Is there even a second one? It has to be Felix Thorne! The heir to the Thorne Empire, a true Wall Street heavyweight!] [Omg, I heard even tech CEOs can’t get a meeting with Felix Thorne. Is Chloe really that close to him?] [Lol, compared to Felix Thorne, that random Mr. F is a literal nobody.] [Hahaha, Serena definitely thought she was about to go viral, but she didn’t expect Chloe’s connections to be this insane!] Chloe feigned modesty. “Oh stop, don’t say that. Felix doesn’t like being too high-profile.” She turned, gave me a triumphant smile, and pressed the call button. I watched her quietly. I was actually a little curious about what was going to happen next. Almost immediately, a notification popped up on her screen— [You are not friends with this user. Call cannot be completed.] 3 Chloe’s face instantly turned green. She awkwardly tried a few more times, but the result was the same. She could only mutter to herself, “Huh? Felix must have accidentally deleted me. I totally forgot, he mentioned he was going to clear out his contacts…” The host quickly tried to save her face. “It’s fine, it’s fine! You can just pick someone else.” Next to her, I silently closed out of my messaging app. What I didn’t realize was that my phone was still being mirrored to the studio screen. My lock screen wallpaper flashed brightly for everyone to see. It was a man in a bespoke suit, looking straight ahead. His long, elegant fingers gripped a steering wheel, and a sleek, black luxury watch rested on his wrist. I quickly locked my phone. But the damage was done. The live chat absolutely exploded. [Holy sht! Felix Thorne! That’s Felix Thorne!] [I’m getting a nosebleed. How have I never seen this picture before?! He is so hot, is he trying to kill me?!] [Wait, this btch’s wallpaper is Felix Thorne? And she deliberately flashed it for us to see right now?] [Yeah, what is she trying to prove? Trying to chase clout on a live stream, excuse me?!] [Uh, what if she just genuinely likes him?] [That makes it even funnier! Does she not look in the mirror? Dreaming of marrying into a billionaire family? Especially someone on Felix Thorne’s level. I’m laughing my head off.] The other celebrity guests on set widened their eyes, covering their mouths and whispering. Chloe shot me a look and rolled her eyes. The host immediately asked if she was okay. Chloe gently touched her cheek, looking delicate. “It’s nothing. I just suddenly realized… delusional fangirls are honestly terrifying.” Live chat: [Oh yeah! Isn’t Chloe really good friends with Felix? Someone tell Felix there’s a stalker fangirl here using him for clout!] [Too bad Felix Thorne doesn’t care about the entertainment industry. Otherwise, I’d love to see Serena get blacklisted, hahaha.] Everyone on set caught Chloe’s implied insult. They all turned to look at me in unison. I didn’t say a word. I just pocketed my phone and stared at the production crew to cut my screen feed. Because it was a live broadcast, this tiny incident snowballed instantly. Someone clipped that segment and posted it on X. The caption read: [Chloe is such a straightforward queen, love her! Delusional trash needs to get out of Hollywood!!] The hashtag started trending, and a massive wave of netizens voiced their support: [Tsk tsk, my girl Chloe is a boss! I felt secondhand embarrassment for Serena through the screen.] [She probably didn’t expect Chloe to be so blunt. Look at her deadpan face, her clout-chasing failed and she’s big mad.] [Vomiting. I never understood how she got famous anyway. Cancel her already.] Chloe kept scrolling on her phone and somehow clicked into the trending hashtag. A screen full of insults directed at me was mirrored onto the main studio screen for everyone to read. She froze for a second, then looked at me in a complete panic. “Oh my gosh! How did this happen?! I’m just too outspoken, I never thought people would say all this! Serena, you aren’t mad at me, right?” I was the one getting dragged, yet she looked like the victim. Someone nearby immediately put an arm around her. “Chloe, we know you have a good heart. This is totally normal in Hollywood, it has nothing to do with you.” Chloe looked innocently into the camera. “I just think as public figures, we should watch our behavior and not do anything inappropriate.” The surrounding crew threw me looks of pure disdain. Feeling their judgmental stares, I was speechless. I just didn’t get it. If these people cared so much about Felix Thorne, couldn’t they recognize his voice? The “F” I just called… was him. And that picture? I took it on a whim when he came to pick me up from work one day. Is it illegal to use a picture I took of my own husband as my lock screen? 4 We had been secretly married for three years, and Felix had protected me flawlessly. No one had ever dug up our relationship, and I was perfectly happy with that freedom. But Chloe’s constant insinuations about being close to Felix felt incredibly bizarre. I had never heard of Felix being in contact with any Hollywood starlet other than me. How did she even get his contact info? Chloe was still acting wronged. The host pivoted to comfort her. “Don’t be sad, Chloe! We’re still recording, you can make another call!” She wiped away non-existent tears, scrolled through her list, and found someone named Preston Vance. “Okay! Can I call Felix’s absolute best friend?” The host nodded frantically. “Of course!” As Chloe dialed, she explained to the camera, “Preston is the heir to Vance Industries. He grew up with Felix, they’re practically brothers!” Live chat: [My girl Chloe is so professional. She was so wronged, but she immediately jumped back into work mode!] [Upvote! But who is Preston Vance? Never heard of him.] [Checking in, I just Googled him. His family runs a massive construction empire. Filthy rich!] [Anyone who is best bros with Felix Thorne is definitely a big deal. If Chloe is this close to all of them, she must be a real high-society princess!] [Omg, our Chloe is gorgeous AND comes from a crazy background! That’s my queen!] Amidst the envious gazes of the room, I slowly furrowed my brows. Preston Vance? Felix’s best friend? How come I had never heard of this guy? If I remembered correctly, Vance Construction was merely a sub-contractor for one of Thorne Enterprises’ subsidiaries. Preston Vance probably hadn’t even met Felix in person. How were they best friends? I was genuinely baffled, and I couldn’t help but ask, “Are you absolutely sure this guy is Felix Thorne’s good friend?” Chloe’s expression instantly changed. “What do you mean by that? Serena, if you have a problem with me, say it to my face, but you shouldn’t question me like this!” I looked her dead in the eye. “I just think that bragging on a live stream might be hard to walk back later.” She lost her media training for a second and glared at me. “Why don’t you look in the mirror? What right do you have to accuse me of bragging? Preston and Felix are incredibly close. When you’re ruined, don’t come begging me for help!” Looking at Chloe’s supreme confidence, I was both confused and fascinated. Where was she getting this audacity? The chat debated: [Is Serena Blake mentally ill? She can’t access high-society circles, so she gets jealous and accuses others of lying? How dark is her soul?] [Knowing Chloe’s background is so insane, I really want to know who Mr. F is. He was so obedient on the phone, is he just some boy-toy model Serena paid for? No wonder she’s having a meltdown comparing herself to Chloe!] [Lmao, it’s probably someone she’s ashamed to show. With Chloe’s powerful friends, Serena is about to be humiliated on all fronts!] Someone next to us chimed in, “Chloe, ignore the jealous hater. Make your call!” Chloe glared at me, then acted all sweet and flirty once the call connected, quickly completing the challenge. Everyone praised the Vance heir for treating her so well. She just smiled, looking shy and modest. Director Davis seemed to have a sudden stroke of genius. He pulled Chloe aside, practically fawning over her. “Chloe, since you have plans with Mr. Vance, why don’t we invite him to the studio for dinner? Let our little show bask in some of that billionaire aura! “I’ve been trying to get an interview with Felix Thorne for ages, but he never looks twice at our productions. It’s been my biggest regret…” Chloe immediately understood the assignment and patted the director’s shoulder aggressively. “Oh, Director Davis, say no more! I’ll send Preston the location right now. He and Felix are practically family. Getting him an interview? It’s just a matter of saying the word!” A matter of saying the word? Felix absolutely despised fluff interviews meant only to farm engagement. Did she really not consider the consequences of talking this big?

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College acceptance letters rolled in, and I sent a message to my online tutor and virtual crush. “I didn’t get into Harvard. Goodbye.” Then I turned right around, enrolled at MIT, and blocked him. Fast forward to my freshman year lab. The grad student TA called me out in front of the entire class. “Come up to the board and solve this. I’ve taught you this before.” Me: “…” Are you kidding me?! Why is the online crush who desperately wanted me to go to Harvard standing in an MIT classroom?! Chapter 1 When I started taking AP tracks in my junior year of high school, my GPA tanked hard. I was terrified I wouldn’t make it into MIT. Out of desperation, I started flirting with a guy on a study forum whose username was “Harvard Reject.” I asked him to help me study. He was gentle, considerate, and incredibly understanding. “Don’t worry. With me around, I guarantee you’ll get into Harvard.” I was flattered, but panicked. “No, no, Harvard isn’t necessary.” Secretly, I was muttering to myself: MIT is exactly what I want. “Tsk, what kind of talk is that? You can look down on your own IQ, but don’t insult my abilities.” Me: “…” Right, right. I certainly didn’t dare insult his abilities. “Harvard Bro” really knew his stuff. Under his tutoring, my grades didn’t just skyrocket; they stabilized. On my final practice SAT, I scored a massive 1560. I excitedly shared the news with him. Harvard Bro was completely unfazed. “Yeah, that score should be enough for Harvard.” It was definitely enough, but I didn’t want to go to Harvard. I had my heart set on MIT since day one. But over the year he tutored me, I clearly felt that Harvard Bro had a weird obsession with Harvard. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have kept “Harvard Reject” as his username for over a year. If I didn’t go to Harvard, would he be disappointed? Staring at his message, I decided to test the waters. “What if I don’t get into Harvard?” “Relax, you’ll definitely get in.” Hmm… He probably thought I was just having pre-test jitters and was trying to comfort me. Just like that, I kept my MIT dream a secret. The day before college decisions, Harvard Bro messaged me, telling me to stay calm. He said he was busy with his master’s thesis and told me to text him the moment my official acceptances came through. Chapter 2 Late March arrived, and decisions dropped. I had a near-perfect SAT and stellar extracurriculars. Hmm… I got into Harvard, and I got into MIT. While I was agonizing over which to officially accept, my mom got a personal recruitment call from MIT admissions. She practically forced the decision for me: MIT it was. Goodbye, Harvard. Getting into my dream school was obviously amazing. But whenever I thought of Harvard Bro, who had tutored me for so long, anxiety crept in. He kept pushing me toward Harvard. Choosing MIT felt like a massive betrayal. While I was agonizing over how to break the news, his message popped up first. “Decisions are out, right? How did you do?” Look at that gentle check-in. My guilt deepened tenfold. I steeled my heart, gritted my teeth, and sent a message. “I didn’t do well. I didn’t get into Harvard.” “…” He fell silent. Before his second message could come through, I fired off another line: “I’m sorry. Goodbye.” Then I decisively blocked him and went offline. Chapter 3 After that, I completely lost touch with Harvard Bro. Even though it was just a fleeting digital romance, passing by the Harvard campus in Cambridge during my first week of college still made me stop in my tracks. My roommate, Zoe, asked what was wrong, noticing the mix of regret and longing in my eyes. I sighed. “Once upon a time, I was this close to going to Harvard.” “…” Zoe was speechless. She grabbed my arm and dragged me toward the library to fight for a seat. “Let me tell you a secret: every MIT student walking past Harvard says the exact same thing. Now hurry up, or all the good tables will be gone.” Me: “…” What a painfully honest humblebrag. Sure enough, the library was already packed. Zoe groaned. “Are these people monsters? We made it to MIT, why are we still grinding this hard?!” At a glance, every table was full. There were a few spots in the group-study zone, but after hearing a chaotic blend of three different languages, we decided the silent reading area was vastly superior. “Hey, I see a spot! Over there!” Zoe smacked my shoulder in excitement and sprinted over to negotiate with the occupants. Seconds later, she waved me over. “Chloe, hurry! We got seats.” As I walked up, I caught the end of their conversation: “Don’t mention it. You guys freshmen?” “Yeah!” Zoe smiled, her voice dripping with sweetness. I sat down quietly, noticing the seat directly across from me was empty, though a textbook was resting on the desk. “You should technically call me ‘Senior,’ but I’m actually a few years ahead. I’m a grad student now,” the guy said. “Wow, impressive!” While I was wondering if the empty seat across from me belonged to someone else, Zoe had already exchanged contacts with the senior. Once everyone settled, silence fell again. I looked down at my textbook. A few minutes later, a shadow fell over the desk, and someone pulled out the chair across from me. Whispered conversation ensued. “The PI dragged you back to the office?” “Yeah. Found an error in the data. Had to recalculate.” The first voice was Ethan, the senior who gave us the seats. The second voice was unfamiliar, but incredibly pleasant. I peeked up. Sitting across from me was a young man with glasses. He had high brow ridges, deep, expressive eyes, and thick eyelashes. His eyes were stunningly gorgeous—like something straight out of an anime. Sensing my gaze, he looked up. The moment our eyes met, my breath hitched. He was ridiculously handsome. But the anime-esque guy merely gave me a cold, sweeping glance. Then, his eyes landed on the textbook in front of me, and he raised an eyebrow. “Materials Science and Engineering? You’re an MSE major?” he asked, sounding surprised. Oh? He was actually talking to me. I nodded. I was always good at STEM in high school, largely thanks to Harvard Bro, so I declared MSE the moment I got into MIT. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but the guy’s lips curled up slightly. “Not bad.” Before I could process that, Ethan chimed in amicably, “What a coincidence! That’s our department too.” Ah. Very coincidental. Direct seniors. “Hi, nice to meet you,” I said politely. The handsome guy just gave a noncommittal “Hmm,” his attitude turning frosty again. “Don’t mind him,” Ethan laughed. “He’s just like that.” I smiled and brushed it off. Chapter 4 My major is notoriously brutal. The homework is endless and soul-crushing. It was another weekend. Zoe and I were trapped in our dorm, pulling our hair out over a Physical Chemistry problem set. Finally, Zoe let out a dramatic wail. “I literally can’t do this anymore. Just kill me. Why is it this hard?! I’ve recalculated it three times and it’s still wrong.” Looking at the stray hairs she had literally pulled from her scalp, I felt bad for her. But I was just as helpless. The difficulty jump from high school to college was a massive cliff. “Should we ask someone?” “Ask who?” Zoe’s question stumped me. The professor? Absolutely terrifying. Classmates? Zoe was the valedictorian of her high school and even she was stuck. In my despair, a figure popped into my head. Harvard Bro. If he were here, this problem would probably be child’s play for him. But I deleted him! If I had known college homework would be this torturous, I wouldn’t have acted so impulsively. Suddenly, Zoe sat bolt upright from her dead-corpse pose on the bed. “I know exactly who to ask!” “Who?” “That senior we met at the library! Ethan! I have his number. He’s an MSE grad student, he definitely knows this.” Zoe didn’t hesitate. She grabbed her phone and fired off a text. A minute later, she was dragging me out the door. “Let’s go, let’s go! He said yes. We’re heading to his lab right now.”

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I grew up alongside New York’s most untouchable heir, Carter Winchester. For ten whole years, I transitioned from the “older sister” who took care of him, to his unacknowledged underground lover, and finally to the most obedient piece in his endless rotation of women. Everyone in our circle knew I loved him. Until his first love—his white moonlight—returned to the States. To prove his devotion, he cleared out all the beautiful distractions around him. Including me. The night I left, he and his friends laughed me out of the room. But later, they all said the same thing. Carter Winchester had lost his mind. By the time I dragged myself out of bed, Carter was still sound asleep. The floor was a mess, and my sheer stockings were completely ruined. But I had an executive meeting at the company this morning. I clicked my tongue in annoyance, rubbing my aching lower back as I rummaged through the dresser drawers. I distinctly remembered leaving a spare pair here last time, but I couldn’t find them anywhere. Just then, a low whistle sounded behind me. Carter’s voice dripped with teasing amusement. “Big sis, your body is still as incredible as ever.” I didn’t have the energy to entertain him. “Where are my stockings?” He furrowed his handsome brows, thinking for a second, looking entirely unbothered. “I think Chloe or Lily from Columbia University might have worn them home last time? I don’t remember.” My hands stopped moving. Even though it wasn’t the first time I had heard him say something so casually cruel, my heart still gave a dull ache, followed closely by a wave of self-deprecation. After all these years, hadn’t I learned my lesson? I was never anyone special to him. I let out a long sigh, stood up, and started putting on my clothes. But Carter patted the empty space beside him. Like a lazy, satisfied predator, his implication was heavy. “Big sis, why are you leaving so early?” “I have a meeting at the company.” He gave me a look and clicked his tongue. “Is this about that commercial plot in Manhattan? Why work so hard? Just stay here with me this morning, and that land is yours.” It was afternoon by the time I made it to the office. My whole body ached. The moment I sat down, my father called. His voice was oozing with praise. “Maddie, we got the land! You did great this time. Keep Carter happy, your younger brother’s future depends entirely on you.” Holding the phone, I stared at my twenty-six-year-old reflection in the glass window. A bitter smile crept onto my face. “Dad, I’m not that young anymore. Carter has plenty of eighteen and nineteen-year-old girls throwing themselves at him. What makes you think I can keep his attention?” My father paused on the other end of the line. “Besides, this is probably the last time Carter is going to look out for us.” “Why?!” My father’s voice instantly spiked with panic. “Madeline, did you offend him?! Go apologize right now! Your brother’s inheritance—” I gripped the phone tightly. My so-called family was a bottomless pit of greed. To them, I was just a bargaining chip. As long as I slept with Carter, I brought in resources. I could be anything to them, except a human being. A crushing wave of humiliation washed over me, and the tears I’d been holding back finally fell. “Because Madison is coming back.” I didn’t want to say another word. I hung up. Outside, my secretary knocked tentatively on the door. “Ms. Hayes, the gift you requested is ready. Would you like to inspect it?” I wiped my tears and signaled her to come in. The watch in the velvet box was stunning, and obscenely expensive. A Vacheron Constantin Les Cabinotiers. Just like me. An endless traveler, lost at sea, never finding a place to land. That was the reality of my relationship with Carter. You could call us lovers, or you could call it a transactional exchange. But out of all the women in his orbit, I was undeniably the most obedient. After all, my father relied heavily on the Winchester family empire. From the time I was in high school, I was constantly given orders: “Serve the young master of the Winchester family well.” I carried his bags, did his homework, and cleaned up his messes. He went from being annoyed by me and ordering me around, to secretly beating up an upperclassman who was harassing me. I genuinely thought I was special. I watched him grow into a devastatingly handsome young man. I watched as countless beautiful girls flocked to him. I watched him fool around with one—or several—of them the night before, only to throw his arm over my shoulder the next day, looking incredibly smug. “Listen up, everyone. This is my big sis.” His hand was so warm against my shoulder that I almost shivered from the heat. I watched my own heart sink into an abyss of unrequited love, forcing myself to hide it carefully. Until the night he got blackout drunk and called me to pick him up. I finally managed to get the drunken heir back to his penthouse. I was just about to leave when he grabbed my wrist. He narrowed his eyes, half-asleep, looking at me with a gaze dripping in affection. “Maddie.” When his kiss fell, I didn’t push him away. There were no confessions, no flowers. Only pain. But I took it willingly. I just never expected the look in his eyes when he woke up the next morning. It was pure disdain. “Madeline, you really are…” Are what? I sat up, bewildered. Before I even had the chance to feel shy, Carter went straight to the shower, changed his clothes, and left. The door slammed shut with a deafening bang. He didn’t even look back at me. I sat frozen on the bed for a long time, having no idea what I had done wrong. It wasn’t until later that I found out. The day before, my father had gone to him on his knees, begging for a massive capital injection to save our crumbling family business. And it wasn’t until much, much later that I realized the “Maddie” he was calling out for that night wasn’t Madeline. It was Madison. He didn’t love me. My fragile, blooming feelings were slaughtered before they even saw the light of day. From that day forward, he only ever called me “Big Sis.” It felt like a custom-made, condescending brand of humiliation. Reserved only for me. He didn’t contact me for a whole week after that. Until his birthday. Carter loved grand spectacles. His birthdays were massive events, swarming with the heirs and socialites of New York’s upper crust. I originally didn’t want to go, but his childhood friends kept blowing up my phone. “Madeline, Carter is celebrating at The Onyx tonight. It wouldn’t look right if you didn’t show, would it?” I hesitated for a long time before finally giving in. I planned to just show my face, hand over the gift, and leave. But right as I reached for the handle of the VIP suite, I heard one of Carter’s friends ask a question. “Carter, now that Madison is back, what are you gonna do about her?” The room erupted in a chorus of teasing whistles. My hand froze on the door. A moment later, Carter’s lazy, careless drawl drifted through the wood. “What do you mean, do about her? She’s been following me around for years. We’ll just deal with it how it usually goes.” “Damn, you’re generous. A breakup gift of prime Manhattan real estate? Careful, she might cling to you like a leech. Sugar daddies as generous as you are hard to find.” It felt like someone had slapped me across the face. My fingers gripped the watch box so tightly they trembled. I just wanted to turn and run. But suddenly, someone shoved me hard from behind. I lost my footing, stumbling straight through the door and crashing violently into a towering champagne pyramid. The glowing, crystal tower collapsed in an explosive crash of breaking glass. Sticky champagne soaked my hair and drenched my body. My white strapless dress was ruined, clinging to my skin. My carefully done makeup ran down my cheeks with the alcohol. I was a pathetic, unsalvageable mess. “Oh! My bad, I didn’t mean to.” It was Blair Kensington. A wealthy socialite and Madison’s best friend. I looked up. Carter was sitting dead center on the plush leather sofa. Madison was leaning delicately against his chest, wearing a perfectly calculated expression of surprise. “Madeline? What are you doing here?” When did she get back to the States? I didn’t want to look this pathetic in front of her, but everyone in the room was watching the show. Not a single person stepped forward to help me up. Blair’s voice was the loudest. “I’m just saying, Madeline, if you’re getting too old for heels, just say so. Didn’t know you wanted to bow down to us so badly.” “Too bad we aren’t Carter. We don’t have any real estate to hand out.” The room erupted into laughter. They exchanged secretive, knowing glances, fully enjoying the spectacle. Until the laughter naturally died down. Carter furrowed his brows, looking at me like I was a stain on his reputation. “What are you doing here?” If I didn’t understand it by now, I was an idiot. This whole thing was a coordinated ambush by Carter’s inner circle—a welcoming “gift” for Madison’s return. As I tried to stand, a sharp, shooting pain flared in my ankle. I almost collapsed again. When I threw my hand out to catch myself, shards of broken glass dug deep into my palm. I shuddered in pain. “I… came to give you your birthday present.” “No need.” He glanced at the watch box in my hand, his tone airy and dismissive. “I have plenty of things like that. Keep it for yourself. I’ll have my driver take you home.” The AC in the club was blasting heat, but I felt like I was drowning in a freezing lake. I couldn’t stop shivering. The moment the suite door clicked shut behind me, the room erupted into roaring laughter again. My heart finally, entirely, sank to the bottom. Later that night, someone texted me a video. Carter, slightly drunk and egged on by the cheers of his friends, pulled Madison into his arms and kissed her deeply, passionately. He murmured her name over and over. “Maddie, Maddie…” So cherished. Like she was the most precious thing in the world. Watching it, a sudden laugh escaped my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks. Carter had never kissed me in front of his friends. To him, I was just a convenient, well-worn object he kept around. Tasteless to chew on, but a pity to throw away. My phone buzzed again. Another message from an unknown number in their circle. “What do you think you are?” Yeah. What am I? Just a joke. I parked my car under the Brooklyn Bridge and walked up to the pedestrian walkway. In front of me was the endless, rushing stream of New York traffic. Below was the dark, silent river. People in Carter’s circle hated crowded places. They always felt like being around normal people tainted their status. But I loved watching people. I watched young couples kissing in beat-up sedans. I saw exhausted blue-collar workers resting their heads against the bus windows, looking drained of life. I saw girls with perfectly engineered faces sitting in the passenger seats of convertibles, ecstatic as they clutched orange Hermès bags. They were so young. They didn’t realize that every gift life hands you already has a price tag secretly attached. Just like me. I turned around, stepped onto the lower railing, and reached my hand out toward the open water to feel the freezing wind. Suddenly, a voice screamed from behind me. “Don’t do it!” Before I could even process the words, a massive force yanked me off the railing. The person dragged me backward, shouting at the top of his lungs. “You’re so young! Don’t do anything stupid!” Caught completely off guard, I tumbled onto the concrete, tangled up with a man. The heel of my shoe snagged, twisting my already injured ankle again. I let out a sharp cry of pain. But the nightmare wasn’t over. My already ruined cocktail dress let out a horrifying, audible RIP. I froze, absolutely terrified to move, and screamed at him in blind panic. “I wasn’t trying to kill myself! Let go of me!” “Don’t be st—” The guy froze mid-sentence. “Wait, you weren’t jumping?” It was only then that I got a good look at the culprit. He was young. Really good-looking. Wearing a white hoodie, looking as fresh and earnest as a sapling. His face turned bright red, and he started stammering. “I-I’m so sorry…” He frantically stripped off his oversized jacket and draped it over me. “I am so sorry, I really thought you were jumping, I just panicked and tackled you.” I must have forgotten to check my horoscope today, because every single thing that had happened was an absolute disaster. But this guy wouldn’t leave me alone. He trailed behind me like a guilty puppy. “Let me walk you to your car.” “I said no.” But the kid was acting like a Golden Retriever with a wagging tail, desperately trying to show his remorse. He followed me step for step. My patience finally snapped. I spun around, reached out, hooked a finger into his hoodie strings, and yanked him down. The kid went rigid as a board. I watched my reflection grow larger in his wide, panicked eyes… Then, a sudden flash of white light blinded me. I turned my head stiffly. The speeding traffic on the bridge had slowed to a crawl. In almost every passing car, someone was excitedly holding up their smartphone—filming this highly entertaining “rescue” scene. I didn’t even have to guess. By tonight, every social media platform would be flooded with the tag: #HeartbrokenWomanJumpsOffBridge #HandsomeCollegeStudentSavesTheDay. I made a split-second decision. I pulled his oversized jacket completely over my head. And I bolted. When I got home, I drew the blackout curtains and slept like the dead. Until I was jolted awake by a vicious slap across the face. I opened my eyes to see my father’s face twisted in rage. “What kind of shameful, humiliating stunt did you pull?!” My vision went black for a few seconds before I finally caught my breath. “What are you doing?” “Madeline, you’ve really outdone yourself! You get dumped and you go jump off a bridge?! Do you care about the Hayes family’s reputation at all?!” He was breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring like an enraged bull. Behind him stood my stepmother, Linda, barely hiding the smug look on her face. “Oh, Richard, calm down. Maddie definitely didn’t mean it. She was just upset about being dumped. Don’t yell at the poor girl.” My mother had barely been dead a month before Linda moved in, already heavily pregnant. My nightmare started the day she crossed the threshold. Even sending me off to act as a “study buddy” for Carter was Linda’s “well-intentioned” suggestion. She had used her soft, venomous voice: “Childhood sweethearts are the hardest to forget. If our Maddie gets lucky, she might be able to help her little brother out in the future.” And just like that, I was boxed up and given away as a gift. “She’s a useless piece of trash! She clung to him for all these years and couldn’t even secure a ring. And now she’s been thrown out on the street!” My father was getting angrier by the second, barking orders at me. “Since you can’t get Carter to change his mind, there’s no reason for you to sit on the board of the company anymore. Hand over the keys!” As if I actually cared about that sinking ship. It was almost funny. “I can give you the keys.” I cut him off. “Give me my mother’s ashes.” For years, the only reason I hadn’t disappeared was because they were using my mother’s urn as collateral. I stared dead into my father’s eyes. I watched his face shift from red, to green, and finally to purple, before he erupted into a screaming fit. “You little bitch! You’re just like your mother—” “Don’t you dare talk about my mother!” A sudden wave of intense nausea hit me. I turned my head and vomited over the side of the bed. Linda violently tugged on my father’s sleeve, cutting off his tirade. She whispered something to him, and to my horror, I saw a flash of wild ecstasy ignite in both their eyes. Instantly, my father’s entire demeanor flipped. “Maddie, sweetie… are you pregnant?” I froze. Come to think of it, last time we really didn’t… “You rest up. Your stepmother and I will make you some soup and come check on you later.” My father rubbed his hands together greedily, looking like a disgusting blowfly hovering over rotting meat.

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He says I’m a pathological liar. Just like my mother, always faking illness and playing the victim to beg for sympathy. On my eighteenth birthday, I called him, my voice trembling with desperation: “Please, just show up this once. If you don’t, I will die.” His voice on the other end was icy and indifferent: “So you’ve learned to threaten me now? Then go ahead and die.” The line went dead. I smiled, my heart entirely hollowed out. The mechanical chime of the System echoed in my mind: [Mission failed. Host termination sequence initiating—] I died on the day of my eighteenth birthday. And yet, that very billionaire CEO—the man who despised his eldest son more than anyone else in the world—went completely insane. 01. I was a Tasker. I transmigrated into this world when the boy, Ethan Brooks, was only six years old. The System told me that my only mission was simple: get my father to spend just one birthday with me, and the task would be complete. At first, I thought nothing could be easier. In the mirror, my six-year-old self had a chubby, adorable face with bright, innocent eyes. Whenever neighbors or sweet old ladies passed by on the street, they couldn’t help but stop to hug me. “What a precious little boy. His parents must absolutely treasure him.” But I soon discovered the brutal truth. The person who hated me most in this entire world was my own father. 02. Marcus Brooks was forced to marry my mother. Back then, he was the golden heir to the Brooks Conglomerate, deeply in love with his college sweetheart—a struggling, low-tier Hollywood actress. My grandfather was furious. He despised the entertainment industry and forced Marcus to break off the relationship, ordering him home to accept an arranged marriage. The match chosen for him was my mother, Clara. Marcus originally intended to just go through the motions to appease my grandfather. But Clara loved him. She loved him desperately, to the point of madness. She had carried a secret crush on Marcus for years. She pursued him relentlessly, crying for him, going on hunger strikes, and even resorting to self-harm. Marcus felt suffocated by the sheer weight of her obsession. Eventually, Clara became pregnant. Under the crushing pressure from both my grandfather and the public eye, Marcus finally married her. They spent six incredibly cold months in matrimony. Six months later, Clara passed away while giving birth to me. Whether it was during the grueling hours of her fatal labor or the somber days of her funeral, Marcus never once showed up. Three months after she passed, he finally returned to the estate. The nanny carried me out and placed me right in front of him. He cast a brief, sweeping glance over my face, leaving behind a single, freezing sentence. “He looks exactly like Clara.” Then he turned and walked away without a shred of lingering warmth. 03. By the time I was six, I had already learned to be fiercely independent. During an art class at school, the teacher asked us to draw “My Family.” In my drawing, there was only myself and Mrs. Gable, our nanny. The teacher bent down and asked, “Where is your daddy, Ethan?” “Daddy lives inside the television.” “And where is your mommy?” “Mommy is up in heaven.” The teacher went silent for a long time. She gently patted my head, then walked into the main office to call Marcus. “Mr. Brooks, next Tuesday is our Parent-Teacher Open Day. Would it be possible for you to come in and talk about Ethan?” I overheard her call from outside the door, and a tiny spark of anticipation flared up in my chest. Next Tuesday also happened to be my birthday. If Daddy came to school, it would count as him spending my birthday with me. When Tuesday arrived, I started waiting from noon. I waited through one class period after another. By the time the final bell rang and school dismissed, a sleek, black Maybach finally rolled through the school gates. My eyes widened with hopeful excitement. But the person who stepped out of the luxury vehicle was a sharp-looking man in a tailored suit—Marcus’s executive assistant. “Mr. Brooks asked me to hand this over to you, ma’am,” the assistant said, sliding a high-end gift basket and a premium store gift card into the teacher’s hands. “He also mentioned that the boy is inherently difficult and ill-mannered. He apologizes for any trouble Ethan might cause you.” The teacher let out a heavy, deep sigh. She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t true at all. I was incredibly well-behaved. I had a gentle disposition and worked harder than anyone else in class. But the Maybach had already pulled a swift U-turn and sped away, as if sparing even a single second for me was a massive waste of their time. For the first time, I realized a cruel truth about parental love. It is either the easiest thing in the world to get, requiring absolutely no effort at all. Or, it is the hardest thing in the world to obtain, no matter how hard you try. 04. But I didn’t give up. At first, I thought that if Daddy realized I was a good kid, he would eventually grow to love me. So I pushed myself to the absolute limit in my studies. Every single semester, I made the Principal’s Honor Roll, and my academic certificates lined the walls of my bedroom. But it was completely useless. Whenever Mrs. Gable texted these achievements to Marcus, his inbox remained a graveyard of unread messages. Later on, some boys in my grade started bullying me. They cornered me on the playground, smirking maliciously. “You claim your dad is Marcus Brooks?” “What a pathetic liar. Look at yourself. You don’t look a single bit like the son of a billionaire CEO.” “Exactly! No one ever shows up for you on Parent-Teacher night. I bet you’re just some stray orphan!” A fight broke out. We slammed hard into the glass display cases lining the hallway near the gymnasium. The glass shattered into shards. One of the boys, completely blinded by rage, grabbed a jagged piece of glass and slashed it savagely across my forearm. … Lying in the hospital ward, I overheard the parents of those boys whispering in low, hurried voices outside. “I heard this kid is just an illegitimate nobody.” “We can just throw a few thousand dollars at him to settle this out of court.” “Why don’t we talk to the Board of Trustees and have him expelled? If he stays at this academy and starts spreading rumors, it’ll ruin our boy’s chances at the Ivy Leagues…” I sat frozen on the hospital bed, my expression entirely numb. Protecting one’s own child is a basic human instinct. I didn’t blame those parents for wanting to sacrifice me to secure their children’s futures. In fact, I felt a deep, aching envy toward those boys. Suddenly, the hushed whispers outside ceased entirely. In their place came a wave of pure panic: “M-Mr. Brooks?” Marcus had arrived at the very last moment. Behind him walked a team of cold, calculating lawyers, executive assistants, and a trembling, bowing school principal. “I understand completely, Mr. Brooks. This was a severe lapse in our security,” the principal stammered, sweat dripping down his face. “I will handle this with the utmost severity. The students responsible will be expelled immediately!” Marcus gave a curt, indifferent nod. Leaving his assistants and legal team outside to handle the paperwork, he pushed open the door to my room and stepped inside. My heart had never felt so warm. In that single moment, I genuinely believed the thick sheets of ice between Marcus and me were finally beginning to melt. “Daddy…” I choked out, my voice thick with tears. But in the next second, the words died instantly in my throat. Because I saw the look in Marcus’s eyes. They were completely, devastatingly cold. “Ethan Brooks, look at you. Quite the performer,” he said softly. “Are you trying to play the exact same cards your mother used to play?” It wasn’t until much later that the nanny told me the truth. Years ago, to win Marcus’s sympathy, Clara had hired thugs to harass her on the street, only to call him sobbing in terror. “How much did you pay those classmates of yours to get them to put on this little show for you?” Marcus’s dark, fathomless eyes bored into me, filled with merciless scrutiny. I felt the blood in my veins freeze solid in an instant. “I didn’t do it.” “Don’t lie to me, Ethan.” “I really didn’t do it!!” I broke down crying, entirely unable to prove my innocence, crushed under the weight of my own helplessness. Marcus stared down at me with profound disappointment for a long moment, then lowered his voice. “I genuinely thought you would turn out different from her.” “But it seems you are becoming more like her every single day.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the room. The principal hurried to keep up with his pace. Completely unaware of the conversation that had just occurred inside, he began pouring praise over me to impress Marcus. “I had no idea Ethan was your son, Mr. Brooks! No wonder he’s so remarkable. He takes right after you.” “He tops the class in every single exam, and his essays are beautifully written. His prose actually shares a striking resemblance to the articles you published back in your Ivy League days…” Marcus’s footsteps paused slightly. But then, he let out a bitter, low chuckle. “What a waste.” With that, his footsteps resumed, growing fainter and fainter until they vanished down the corridor. 05. The years bled into one another, and I grew older. Every single year, I tried every method imaginable to beg Marcus to spend my birthday with me. A few times, I came incredibly close to succeeding. But in the end, Marcus never showed up. He would instruct his assistant to deliver gifts to me—each one more lavish and expensive than the last—alongside a custom, thousand-dollar designer cake. Perhaps, in front of the public eye, he still needed to maintain the facade of a dutiful father. But he himself never stepped foot near me. He detested me. He believed I inherited Clara’s manipulative traits and was rotten to the core. When I studied hard and excelled, he thought I was putting on a calculated act. When I was hospitalized with a dangerously high fever, he assumed I was faking illness to beg for attention. No matter what I did, it was always wrong. Eventually, Mrs. Gable grew too old and retired, leaving me completely alone in the apartment. Whenever I grew exhausted from studying, I would turn on the television. On the screen, Marcus and his wife, Madeline, were taking their younger son, Leo, onto a popular celebrity family reality show. Madeline was his first love. After my grandfather passed away, Marcus had finally gotten exactly what he wanted and married her. He poured massive resources into backing her career, transforming the once low-tier actress into an A-list Hollywood star with millions of adoring fans. When the three of them appeared together on screen—the handsome, billionaire father, the stunningly beautiful mother, and the lively, charming son—it was picture-perfect. It really was beautiful. I felt genuinely happy for Leo. He had the most blissful family in the world. And Leo truly was happy. Even though Marcus managed a global conglomerate, he always carved out time to help Leo with his homework, build Lego sets with him, and shoot hoops in their private basketball court. The live stream comments rolled across the screen in endless waves: [Mr. Brooks is literally the best dad in the world.] [I’m so jealous, I wish I had a father like him.] I smiled faintly and switched off the TV. Tomorrow would be my eighteenth birthday. This was my absolute last chance. If I failed to complete the mission, I would be permanently erased by the System. I picked up my phone and dialed Marcus’s number. I called repeatedly, but he never picked up. Left with no choice, I pressed down to record a voicemail. “Daddy, please, I’m begging you. A legal adulthood birthday only happens once in a lifetime.” “Since I was a kid, you’ve never shown up for a single birthday. Just this once… just be here with me this once, okay?” “If you don’t… I will really die…” A long time passed before a voice message notification popped up on my screen. My fingers trembled violently as I tapped to play it. Marcus’s voice came through, dripping with icy sarcasm and mockery. “So you’ve learned to threaten me now?” “Then go ahead and die.” 06. The birthday candles burned down to the very wick. The tiny flames flickered one last time, then died out, plunging the room into darkness. I used a plastic fork to scoop a bit of the frosting from the cake and placed it in my mouth. It was sweet, light, and airy, like a cloud. But I could taste nothing but bitterness. [Host, time is almost up.] The clock was rapidly ticking toward midnight. On my social media feed, a new post from Marcus popped up. It was a picture of Leo smiling brightly under the sun at an exclusive golf country club. The caption was brief, but it couldn’t hide the overwhelming adoration: “Out on the green with Leo today. The boy’s swing is improving incredibly fast. So proud of him.” I stared at it for a moment, then took a picture of my lonely birthday cake and posted a status update of my own. “No matter what, thank you for everything.” “Not every parent loves their child, but every child is born loving their parents.” “I will love you forever. And goodbye, Daddy.” The clock finally struck twelve midnight. Still wearing my paper birthday hat, I quietly stopped breathing. My soul drifted out of my physical form, floating gently into the air. Outside the window lay the sparkling lights of a sprawling city; inside, my body gradually grew cold in the lonely darkness. I asked the System, “Why haven’t I left yet?” The deep, resonant mechanical voice replied, [Because right now, this is not the end.] As if confirming the System’s words. Ten minutes later, a heavy pounding echoed at the front door. There was no answer. The only person who could open the door was currently lying breathless on the sofa. The knocking grew faster, louder, and more frantic. “Ethan Brooks!” Finally, I heard Marcus’s voice. “Open the door. I know you’re inside.”

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1 On Valentine’s Day afternoon, the dorm room was pure chaos. Everyone was doing their makeup, trying on outfits, and getting ready for their dates. I was the only one sitting on my bed, clutching a half-eaten bag of chips, opening my iPad to catch up on Netflix. Avery changed into her millionth outfit, still unsatisfied, and drifted over to my closet. “Harper, this dress of yours is so gorgeous.” It was a plum-red, form-fitting slip dress with lines that subtly teased the imagination. I had specifically picked it out a month ago when Weston and I agreed to get dinner tonight. Avery looked at me. “Did no one ask you out tonight?” When I didn’t answer, the corner of her mouth curled up. She dropped a specific name: “Did Weston leave you on read again?” The moment she said his name, everyone else in the dorm looked over in unison. Weston Sterling was always the center of attention. He was drop-dead gorgeous, top of his pre-med class, and treated life like a game he was playing on easy mode. Romance was the same. Growing up constantly worshipped, he never lacked beautiful, proactive girls throwing themselves at him. And me? I was just the neighbor who happened to attend the same schools as him from elementary school all the way to college. I held the script of the “childhood friend next door,” but that was exactly where the story stalled. I pulled out my phone. His pinned conversation at the top of my messages had no red notification dot. If I didn’t text him, he would never initiate contact. By 9:30 PM, I had finished my show, and I was the only one left in the dorm. Avery had accidentally smeared a little foundation on the cuff of the plum-red dress. I knelt down, trying carefully to wipe it off. It wouldn’t come off. What’s the point anyway? Right as the thought crossed my mind, my phone buzzed. It was an unsaved number, but I recognized the digits instantly. I never saved him to my contacts because I didn’t want to admit how much I cared. But in reality, I had his number memorized by heart. “Hello?” I unconsciously picked at a stray thread on a hanger, trying to distract myself. He chuckled softly. It was like he could hear the suppressed grievance in my voice and was trying to coax me. “Wanna come out and hang?” The upward lilt at the end of his sentence was incredibly magnetic. It was his signature lazy charm. So he did remember. “It’s 9:30,” I said. “And?” he asked. “Is this how you always ask me out? At the absolute last minute? Weston, that’s really rude.” I forced a joking tone. “Did someone else cancel on you, so you’re calling me?” I tried to sound breezy, but my heart was pounding, desperate for his reaction. But no response came. The line was dead silent. I thought my Wi-Fi had dropped and was about to switch to cellular data when I realized he had simply hung up on me. In our iMessage thread, underneath the massive blocks of green texts I had sent him previously, he had just sent two new lines. Weston: […] Weston: [Whatever. Don’t force yourself.] Muscle memory took over. I instantly started typing, I was just joking, trying to explain myself. But my thumbs hovered over his two short, callous sentences. I had waited for him all night, and he hung up on me without a second thought. I deleted the draft. Instead, I typed: [Are you mad?] Send. He replied instantly: [Can’t you tell?] This was him demanding that I lower my head and grovel. Just like always. I replied instantly too: [Stay mad, then.] Then, I blocked his number. I turned around and opened Quizlet. Hah, men? I was going to memorize a hundred vocab flashcards tonight. Two hours later, right as I was finishing my deck, I got a call from Weston. “Are you hungry?” “No,” I said coldly. “Come downstairs. I brought you late-night food.” I poked my head out the window. Sure enough, his black SUV was parked in front of the dorm building. He was wearing a sharply tailored overcoat that made his complexion look even paler in the cold. He was leaning lazily against the car door, looking up at my exact window with a practiced smirk. He raised a hot bag of seafood chowder in the air. It was the exact same soup I had bought for him when he was running a high fever a while ago. As I walked down the stairs, two girls from my hall passed by me. “Wait, isn’t that Weston from the pre-med track?” “Who?” “The incredibly hot guy out front. I’ve seen TikToks of him around campus.” I pushed open the heavy dorm doors and reached out to take the bag of chowder. He pinched the top of the bag. It wouldn’t budge. “Give me your phone,” he said, holding his other hand out. “No.” I let go of the bag and turned to walk back inside. He caught my arm with one hand, and before I could react, he slipped his other hand into my pocket and pulled out my phone. I reached up to snatch it back. “What are you doing? You don’t even know my pass—” Before I could finish, the screen unlocked. “Is there anything about you I don’t know?” His smile deepened. He steadied me with one arm, tapped the screen a few times, and unblocked himself from my settings. Because he was pinned, he was easy to find. Because my passcode was his birthday, it was easy to guess. He knew absolutely everything. “Here. Eat up and go to sleep.” He placed the warm bag in my arms. “I feel like a pig farmer.” I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Weston…” “Weston.” Two voices spoke at the exact same time. I looked past him and saw someone sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV. Avery opened the car door, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Did I fall asleep? Why didn’t you wake me up?” Weston let go of my arm and smiled at her. “You looked like you were sleeping deeply. I figured I’d let you rest.” “My sorority went to an escape room today, and surprisingly, Weston was there too.” Avery walked over and looped her arm through mine. “He was just dropping me off on his way back.” She pointed at the chowder in my hands, her tone playfully coy. “It’s all because that seafood chowder was too good. I got a food coma on the ride back.” So he took Avery out to eat, and just grabbed this for me as an afterthought? “Avery’s stomach was acting up, so I took her to get some food,” he explained, noticing my gaze. “Yeah.” I forced a smile. “Thanks. I’m going back upstairs.” “Harper, wait a sec.” Avery gripped my elbow tightly, stopping me from leaving. Instead of looking at me, she turned to Weston. “Can I get your Snapchat or number? I need to Venmo you for tonight.” I followed her gaze and looked at Weston. The plastic handles of the takeout bag were digging red indents into my fingers. He gave a nonchalant smile and said, “Sure.” But right before he said it, he looked directly at me. Avery finally let go of my arm to add him on her phone. Suddenly, I felt an overwhelming sense of relief. “You guys take your time chatting,” I said. Then, I walked upstairs without looking back. 2 Avery pulled back my bed curtain. “Harper, you don’t mind, right?” “Then again, it’s not like you’re his girlfriend anyway.” She was right. I had no right to mind. “Do you like Weston?” I asked bluntly. “Oh.” Her eyes darted away. “Not really. We were just heading the same way tonight.” “Why aren’t you eating the chowder?” She pointed at the soup I had abandoned on my desk, sounding slightly offended. “We bought that specifically for you, you know.” “I’m not hungry.” I tried to pull my curtain shut, but she held onto it. “Harper, did you know Weston has a group chat with his frat brothers?” My hand froze. I didn’t know. “Mason is in that chat too.” Avery shoved her phone screen in my face. “He sent me these screenshots a few days ago.” I recognized Weston’s profile picture instantly. During the week he had a high fever, I skipped classes to take care of him. Once he recovered, I ended up catching a terrible flu. My bones ached so badly I couldn’t get out of bed. I texted him, begging him to drop off some soup for me. He never replied to me. Instead, he forwarded my barrage of texts to his group chat. The screenshot was entirely filled with my desperate messages to him. Weston: [Look at this simp.] Weston: [Even if she isn’t annoyed, I’m getting sick of it.] Weston: [Does she seriously think she’s my girlfriend?] The group chat erupted in mockery. Mason: [Lol, which number is this one this week?] AntiSimpBro: [This girl is trying way too hard.] AntiSimpBro: [You two clearly don’t match.] AntiSimpBro: [Does she seriously not realize she’s entirely out of your league?] AntiSimpBro: [Trying to guilt-trip you just because you’ve known each other a long time. Anyone got a picture? Let me see what she looks like.] Mason immediately sent a blurry photo. You could barely make out my features. AntiSimpBro: [Not bad, but she looks like a manipulator.] AntiSimpBro: [I wouldn’t touch her if you paid me.] Weston: [@Mason, where did you even get a picture of her?] Mason: [From a club event, I think. Forgot.] Weston: [Unsend it.] Mason: [The unsend window passed. Are you actually bothered?] The screenshots ended there. “It really seems like he doesn’t like you, Harper.” Avery pulled her phone back. “Take my advice: it’s better to have some self-awareness.” I looked at her. “Who is ‘AntiSimpBro’?” My sudden shift in focus caught her off guard. “Oh, him. That’s Weston’s roommate—Asher Reed.” “Do you have his contact?” “Yeah.” She hesitated. “Why do you want his contact?” Midnight. Someone occasionally tossed and turned in the dorm. I opened my phone, changed my lock screen password, and unpinned Weston from my messages. I added Asher on Snapchat. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] Me: [Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Why did you add me?] AntiSimpBro: [If this is about Weston, forget it.] AntiSimpBro: [I’m not helping you.] Me: [It’s not.] AntiSimpBro: [Then what? I’m deleting you.] Me: [Asher, has anyone ever told you that you’re incredibly special?] AntiSimpBro: [No.] Me: [In my eyes, you’re different from everyone else.] AntiSimpBro: [Look, lady, what do you actually want? Spit it out.] Me: [For years, my only goal in getting close to Weston was actually for one specific reason.] AntiSimpBro: [Because you’re obsessed with him?] Me: [To sleep with you.] The other side completely died. It was like his brain short-circuited for five solid minutes. The screen jumped back and forth between “Typing…” and silence. Right as I was about to fall asleep, my phone vibrated. Weston had sent an iMessage. [Sign my name for the 8 AM elective. Room 801.] He was so used to ordering me around. Like he was absolutely certain I would love him forever. 3 For our 8 AM elective, Avery and I were in the same class. To be precise, she only signed up for it because Weston was taking it. When I registered for the course, she hovered over my laptop, watching me closely. “Harper, were you actually texting Asher last night?” She looked me up and down. “It’s a shame he never posts selfies. I don’t even know what he looks like. But guys who never post pictures are usually pretty ugly. He probably looks like that.” She pointed randomly at a nerdy guy in the corner, then turned to me with a smirk. “Actually, you two would be a great match.” Right as Avery finished her sentence, a deep male voice spoke next to me. “Excuse me, can you scoot in?” Avery rolled her eyes, annoyed, but when she looked up and saw his face, her eyes lit up. He had an incredibly intimidating, towering presence, with sharp, deep-set eyes that practically radiated a do not approach aura. Even though there were plenty of empty seats, Avery immediately cleared space for him. Leaning across me, she tried to strike up a conversation. “Hey, are you taking this class too?” “Yeah.” He answered coldly, completely ignoring her. Instead, his eyes lingered on my face for an extra second. “What’s your name?” Avery asked sweetly. “The ugly one you were just talking about,” he said flatly. “Asher.” Avery’s jaw dropped. She quickly gathered her things and practically sprinted a few rows to the front, desperate to escape the blast zone. “Nice to finally meet you, Harper.” Asher pulled out his textbook and slammed it onto the narrow desk, right up against my notebook. He raised an eyebrow, looking ready for a fight. “What was it you said you wanted to do to me last night?” I smiled politely, slid my notebook away, and maintained my distance. He mimicked my smile mockingly. “I knew you were just using me to get a reaction out of Weston.” “Absolutely not.” I denied it three times in a row. A look of contempt crossed his face. “You really think you’re worthy?” “Weston is never going to fall for a girl whose entire personality is desperately chasing boys.” “Furthermore, I’m a man of principles.” His sharp jawline tensed, his tone absolute. “Do you honestly think your cheap manipulation tactics would work on me?” “Is that right?” I asked. The attendance sheet was passed to me. I skipped Weston’s name and only signed my own. When I handed the clipboard to Asher, my fingers accidentally brushed against his hand. He flinched like a startled cat, pulling his hand back as if I carried a plague, radiating massive single-guy energy. “You…” He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you sign Weston’s name?” He was acting like the righteous moral judge of Weston’s love life. Too bad for him, I fully intended to drag him down into the mud with me. “Because you’re sitting right next to me now!” I gave him a bright smile. He completely avoided eye contact, staring rigidly at the chalkboard. “Here, borrow my pen,” I said. He snatched it frantically and forged Weston’s signature, looking visibly panicked. His handwriting was actually really nice. “Your name isn’t on the roster,” I said, tilting my head to look straight into his eyes. “So, did you come here specifically to see me?” He instantly went on the defensive, drawing a hard line. “I came here to warn you!” “Oh.” I held my hand out. “Can I have my pen back?” The pen in his hand seemed to burn him like a hot potato. He shoved it back to me. I held the pen gently in both hands, examining it like a priceless artifact. “What are you doing?” He couldn’t resist asking. “This is the very first pen we’ve ever shared. I’m going to lock it in a safe.” I spoke with utter sincerity. The moment the bell rang, Asher bolted from the room without looking back. I dropped the smile, packed my bag slowly, and stopped by the podium on my way out. Handing the attendance sheet to the professor, I noticed him searching for a pen. “Here, Professor, you can keep this one. I have plenty.” Walking out of the building, I leaned against the brick wall and pulled out my phone. I switched to a burner Snapchat account, styling the bitmoji to look like a guy, and added Asher. AntiSimpBro: [Who are you?] There was a heavy dose of paranoid defense in his words that wasn’t there last night. DogTrainer: [8 AM class. Room 801. I got a picture of you secretly holding hands with Harper.] AntiSimpBro: [?] AntiSimpBro: [Our hands literally just brushed!] AntiSimpBro: [I swear to God, it was an accident! Well, she did it on purpose, but I didn’t! Whatever, I didn’t do it!] A few minutes passed. AntiSimpBro: [How much money do you want to delete it?] He instantly sent $100 via Apple Pay. I didn’t accept it. DogTrainer: [You and Weston have a group chat?] AntiSimpBro: [How do you know that?] DogTrainer: [Add me.] AntiSimpBro: [It’s our frat chat. Why do you want in?] DogTrainer: [Because I have a massive crush on Weston.] I pulled the wildest excuse out of thin air. AntiSimpBro: [Aren’t you a dude?] DogTrainer: [Got a problem with that?] He added me to the chat. Then he DM’d me again to reiterate. AntiSimpBro: [Make sure you delete that photo.] AntiSimpBro: [I would literally rather die than hold her hand.] I didn’t reply. I switched back to my main account. As soon as it loaded, texts from Weston popped up. Weston: [Did you sign my name?] Weston: [Wanna go camping this weekend?] Before I could even type a response, a text from Avery came through. Avery: [Weston just invited me camping! Do you think I should say yes?] Weston was always like this. He invited someone else first, then invited me. I was his eternal, fail-safe backup plan. But this time, I wanted him to taste his own medicine. 4 For the weekend camping trip, everyone was from Weston’s circle. Avery shoved past me and claimed the passenger seat of Weston’s SUV. “Sorry, Harper. I’m just used to riding in Weston’s car. I get carsick in anyone else’s.” The back seats were already packed. Weston looked at me. “Why don’t you ride in Asher’s car?” “Yeah, you guys can chat,” Avery winked at me from the window. “After all, you were desperate enough to add him in the middle of the night.” “You added him?” Weston zeroed in on the keyword. Mason, sitting in the back, laughed and looked at me. “What’s wrong, did you change your target, freshman?” Weston’s expression subtly shifted. But it only lasted a second. He quickly reverted to his usual untouchable, arrogant demeanor. He smirked and yelled toward the other car, “Asher, I’m leaving her in your hands!” Then he slammed the passenger door shut for Avery, completely cutting off any chance of me riding with him. “As a friend, don’t say I never hooked you up,” he muttered to me under his breath. With that, he shoved me toward Asher’s car. But Asher, standing by his door, completely rejected the idea. “Sorry. My car doesn’t take female strangers.” He gave me zero face. The entire group burst into laughter. I was the outcast no one wanted to drive, left standing awkwardly in the middle of the parking lot. Avery laughed the loudest. “What are you laughing at?” Asher snapped at her. “You aren’t allowed in either.” Avery’s smile vanished. Flustered and embarrassed, she shot back, “Who said I wanted to ride in your car anyway?” “Oh, just the fact that you practically sprinted to steal shotgun,” he exposed her bluntly. Mason stepped in to defuse the situation. He gave up his seat in the back of Weston’s car for me and hopped into Asher’s passenger seat. On the highway, Avery and Weston were laughing and chatting in the front seats. When the cars pulled over at a rest stop, the bro group chat started blowing up. Mason: [Weston, stop bullying the freshman just because she’s obsessed with you.] Mason: [You know exactly what kind of guy she likes, why are you throwing her at Asher?] Weston and Asher were polar opposites. One was a seasoned playboy treating the world like his playground; the other was an arrogant, isolated cynic who shot straight from the hip. No one in their right mind would ever pair me and Asher together. DogTrainer: [Harper and Asher are literal soulmates.] AntiSimpBro: [?] Mason: [Who is this guy? When did he get added?] DogTrainer was removed from the group by AntiSimpBro. Asher immediately DM’d my burner account. AntiSimpBro: [Try talking that garbage one more time.] DogTrainer: [I still have the picture of you guys holding hands.] I looked up toward the driver’s seat of the other car. Asher was staring at his phone, his face completely expressionless. His jawline was sharp, and the messy hair falling over his forehead couldn’t hide the icy glare in his eyes. Looking at him, you would never guess he was currently spamming my DMs with stickers of a cartoon dog crying on its knees begging for mercy. AntiSimpBro: [Bro. My guy. Everyone makes mistakes.] AntiSimpBro: [Give me some face here.] AntiSimpBro invited DogTrainer to the group. AntiSimpBro: [Lol, he’s a nobody. Just some dude.] AntiSimpBro: [He gets a kick out of stirring up drama between me and Weston.] Mason: [Your usernames actually match pretty well.] Mason: [Don’t worry, literally no one would believe him.] Mason: [Soulmates, lmaoooo. She’d fall for Avery before she’d fall for you, bro.] AntiSimpBro: […] Weston walked out of the rest stop convenience store and handed a plastic bag of snacks to Avery. “Omg, thank you Weston!” She looked thrilled, digging through the bag and pulling out a mango juice. “That one’s for Harper.” Weston effortlessly snatched the mango juice out of her hand and tossed it directly into my lap. “It’s the only flavor she drinks.” Avery’s face froze. She forced a stiff, awkward smile. “Yeah, I was actually just grabbing it to hand to her.” She shot me a dirty look, then poked Weston’s arm. “Weston, look at the group chat, it’s hilarious. Asher added some random comedian.” Weston raised an eyebrow, swiped through the messages on his phone, smirked, and dismissed it entirely. As the car started moving again, Avery turned around and whispered to me, “It’s such a shame you aren’t in the chat. You have no idea what we’re all laughing at.”

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The Blackwood Ridge massacre of 1995 shook the entire state. Three escaped convicts brutally murdered a forest ranger and his entire family—nine souls in total. Only the nine-year-old youngest daughter survived. When she was attacked, she fell beneath the open planks of the staircase, barely escaping with her life. But she was left permanently crippled, trapped in a lifetime of agony and suffocating regret. I am that youngest daughter. And I have just been reborn. Right back to ten minutes before the slaughter begins. 1 July 27, 1995. 10:00 AM. This exact date and time are burned into my soul. After turning nine, my life in the previous timeline was confined to a wheelchair. No family left. Only endless terror and whispers of what-ifs. Why did I open the door for them? Deep down, I knew that even if I hadn’t opened it, they would have broken in anyway. But a part of me always clung to that desperate, foolish illusion. Now, I am back. In exactly ten minutes, they will knock on our door. 2 I looked back into the cabin. My elderly grandparents were sitting in the corner, braiding heavy jute rope. The rope wouldn’t fetch much at the local market; they just couldn’t bear to let their hands sit idle. Dad hadn’t gone out to patrol the ridges today. It was a rare treat to have him home, mostly because Mom was away visiting her sister in the next county. My second older brother, Tommy, had wrecked his dirt bike and busted his leg, so he was home recovering. His wife, Jessica, was holding their two-year-old daughter, Lily, complaining endlessly about his recklessness. Her belly was noticeably round—in a month, my second nephew would be born. In just a few days, Mom was supposed to come back and take her to the county hospital to wait for the delivery. My oldest brother, David, worked a corporate job in the city. He had sent his two kids back to the mountains for summer vacation. The boy was twelve. His name was Ethan. True to his name, he was already five feet tall and built like a truck. Right now, he was outside helping Dad split firewood. The girl, Grace, was two years older than me. A bit spoiled. In those days, in the deep backcountry, it wasn’t weird for a niece or nephew to be older than their aunt. Terrified of the sun, Grace had pitched a large patio umbrella on the second-floor deck, curled up underneath it reading comic books. “Hey, looks like someone’s coming!” her sharp voice rang out. In my past life, she was the first to spot them too. But everyone in the yard ignored it. Blackwood Ridge was isolated and rugged. The only people who ever stumbled up here were lost hikers. Mountain folks are hospitable. We would always cook them a hearty meal, and then Dad would guide them back to the main highway. It was no different this time. Ten minutes later, they knocked. I had eagerly run to open the door, letting them in. Dad welcomed them warmly. Grandpa stoked the woodstove. Grandma started slicing our home-cured ham. Jessica handed baby Lily to Tommy and helped wash the vegetables. Grace was dragged down to help, rolling her eyes with every step. Tommy even chatted with one of them about his dirt bike injury. Dad went down to the root cellar to fetch a jar of blackberry moonshine he’d buried the previous winter. It was a joyful feast. But just as Dad asked whether they wanted to stay the night or head out while the sun was still up, the atmosphere shattered. One of the men reached out and grabbed Jessica. 3 It all happened so fast. I was upstairs on the second floor, trying to put baby Lily down for a nap. She was fussy and restless, which made me anxious. Suddenly, a strange sound echoed from downstairs. Short, sharp, instantly cut off. Then, a blood-curdling shriek. I flew to the window. The yard had turned into a living hell. Dad was slumped over the wooden table, blood jetting from his throat. Grandpa and Grandma were on the floor, one face down, one face up, their necks nearly severed. Ethan had been struck with his own wood-splitting axe, his skull split open, his body still twitching on the dirt. Those three men—one was overpowering Tommy, one was pinned on top of Jessica, and the third was dragging Grace toward the door. I shoved my fist into my mouth and bit down hard. It wasn’t a nightmare. It was real. Right then, Lily burst into a loud, frantic cry. The man dealing with Tommy finished his grim work, snapped his head up, and glared at me with cold, dead eyes. I spun around, scooped up Lily, and ran. The stairs leading from the second floor to the third were made of open-backed wooden planks. I tripped. The man bounded up the steps, closing the distance in seconds. He ripped Lily from my arms and threw her violently over the railing. Her crying stopped instantly. Driven mad, I lunged forward and bit his arm with everything I had. He roared in pain and hacked down on me twice with his blade. My body went limp. I felt my life force rushing out of me. The wooden stairs became slick and red. My small, frail body slipped right through the open gap between the steps. The man reached down to grab me, but I was out of reach. Seeing that I was bleeding out and surely a goner, he turned and walked back downstairs. The horrors that followed were things I only learned from police reports after I was rescued. They stayed in our cabin for three days and three nights. Jessica was murdered, her unborn baby brutally carved from her womb. Grace didn’t have a single inch of unmarred skin left. She was tortured to death. Mom suffered the cruelest fate. She returned on the third day, walking right into the house, only to have her throat slit the moment she stepped through the door. 4 Under the bright morning sun, my body broke into a violent chill. I shook so hard I couldn’t form words. The memories brought an agonizing, soul-crushing pain, but now was not the time for tears. I had been reborn. I would not let this tragedy happen again. I slammed the heavy yard gate shut, throwing the iron bolt into place. Then I dashed into the house, grabbed the old wall-mounted landline, and dialed the local automated ringback code followed by our home number. The moment I slammed the receiver down, the phone began to ring. In the past, I used this trick all the time to prank Dad. I picked it up, pretended to talk to someone for a few seconds, and then sprinted back to the living room. “Dad! Quick, get everyone inside! The Ranger Headquarters just called—they said three armed killers escaped into the mountains, and they’re heading right for us!” This was the only way to make them listen. If a nine-year-old girl tried to explain reincarnation, no one would believe me. I would waste the precious ten minutes just trying to explain the impossible. Hearing that armed killers were loose in the mountains, Dad instantly went on high alert. Something like this had actually happened a few years back. Tommy didn’t take it seriously, laughing it off. “Three of ’em? I’ll bash their skulls in with my crutch!” “Get inside, you idiot. You talk too much,” Jessica snapped. Knowing he was in the wrong—since the family had forbidden him from riding that dirt bike in the first place—Tommy didn’t dare argue. He meekly followed her inside. Grandpa and Grandma were hard of hearing. Sensing that explaining would take too long, Dad and Ethan grabbed them by their arms and practically carried them into the house, telling them a massive storm was rolling in. Grandpa looked up at the crystal-clear sky, muttering under his breath, refusing to move. Dad was incredibly strong. He physically hoisted Grandpa and his heavy bundle of rope right through the doorway. With a sharp whistle from Dad, two large golden hounds bounded over the low wall, tails wagging as they rushed into the house. One was still missing, probably wandered too far off, and there was no time to search for him now. Mountain dogs were free-roaming creatures; they’d run wild and sometimes disappear into the woods for two or three days. In my past life, they came back too late. They found their family slaughtered, went completely feral with rage, bit two of the killers, but were ultimately hacked to death. Yet, it was because of their attack that the three men were slowed down enough to be captured by the state police. Seeing that all the people and dogs were inside, I rushed over, closed the heavy oak door, and threw the deadbolt. Dad held the landline receiver, his brow furrowed deep as he looked at me. The line was dead. Absolutely no signal. I remembered the case files from my previous life. By this time, they had already cut the external telephone wires. “Did they cut the lines?” I prompted, keeping my voice urgent. Having been a forest ranger for so many years, Dad didn’t deal with humans often, but he dealt with dangerous beasts daily. He possessed a sharp survival instinct. He looked at Tommy decisively. “Go put up the heavy window shutters. Now.” By then, Grace realized something was wrong. She hurried down from the second floor, staring at us blankly. “Let’s go lock the upstairs windows,” I told her. Grace dragged her feet, reluctant as usual, but I squeezed past her and ran up the stairs. With Dad downstairs, the first floor would be tightly secured. I wasn’t worried about that. 4 This house was built of heavy stone. Originally, it had only been a single-story cabin. But as Dad’s generation expanded the family, he added two more floors on top. Our family had been forest rangers since Grandpa’s time. The legacy was supposed to pass to my oldest brother, David, but he worked hard, went to college, and flew out of the mountains. He was never going to come back to this wilderness. Tommy had also talked about finding a job in the city, refusing to be cooped up in a mountain valley. Dad had rushed to marry Jessica into the family just to anchor him down. Back when Grandpa was a ranger, the forests were dense, teeming with all kinds of predators. Grizzly bears would bang on the doors in the dead of night. Therefore, the doors and windows on the first floor were heavily reinforced. With the six solid wooden shutters locked down, it became a veritable fortress. I had zero worries about the ground floor. The second floor, however, was a different story. It was built haphazardly. By Dad’s time, logging had cleared much of the forest, and wild animals dwindled. You could barely spot a timber wolf, let alone a grizzly. The second floor also had stone walls, but it featured four large glass windows—two facing south, two facing north. Though they were old-fashioned double-hung wooden windows, smashing through the glass would be effortless. Worse, they lacked heavy shutters. This was the weakest link in the entire house. The third floor was just an attic for storage. It had no windows, only a small hatch leading to the roof, which we used for drying wild mushrooms and harvested herbs. Jessica and Grace had already closed the four windows. Out of sheer anxiety, Jessica’s face was flushed, and she kept saying her heart was hammering against her ribs. I quickly guided her to a chair. This was no joke; shocking a heavily pregnant woman could trigger an emergency. “Are we safe now? I’m going back to my book,” Grace said testily. Her words jolted me. I looked in her direction, and my heart dropped. I screamed, “Oh no!” 5 Grace was standing right in the middle of the second floor, where a recessed open-air balcony sat, originally built for hanging laundry in the winter. There was supposed to be a heavy door separating the balcony from the interior rooms, but the hinges had snapped. Dad had taken the door down to repair it and hadn’t reinstalled it yet. Wasn’t this giving them a direct highway inside? My gaze darted to the wooden extension ladder resting against the outside wall in the courtyard. A wave of despair washed over me. Even without their brute strength to climb up, the ladder was practically set up for them! Who else could we blame? “Dad! Ethan! Get up here, now!” I roared. Dad and Ethan came bounding up the stairs. “Quick, we need to block this opening!” By now, my expression was grim and deadly serious, entirely uncharacteristic of a nine-year-old girl. Dad looked startled. He was a simple, honest woodsman, never one to make big decisions. He was used to being ordered around by Mom. Being yelled at by his little daughter left him dazed, and he instinctively followed my orders. There was a massive, old-fashioned solid oak wardrobe in the hallway, incredibly heavy. I called Dad and Ethan over to push it. The three of us exerted every ounce of strength we had, but the wardrobe barely budged an inch. “Sweetie, let’s… let’s try something else…” Dad gasped, wiping sweat from his brow as he straightened his back. Bam! Bam! Bam! The front door rattled violently under a heavy knock. “They’re here! Hurry!” I leaped toward the wardrobe, tearing open the doors and hurling the heavy winter coats and blankets onto the floor. Lightened, the wardrobe scraped loudly across the floorboards, leaving deep grooves as we forced it to block the gap. The knocking grew deafening. Just as the wardrobe was about to shut out the final sliver of light from the balcony, I saw Grandma, waddling on her small feet, hurrying toward the front door downstairs. She muttered, “Where did everyone go? Why isn’t anyone answering the door?” 6 My brain felt like it was about to explode. I flew down the stairs with lightning speed. Just as Grandma’s hand touched the deadbolt, I threw my arms around her waist and dragged her back with everything I had. Though Ethan didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, he realized one thing: listening to me was the only way to survive. He rushed over to help pull her away. Fortunately, the knocking outside was so loud it drowned out our frantic scuffling in the entryway. The moment we dragged Grandma into the inner living room and locked the connecting door, a heavy thud echoed from the courtyard. Someone had jumped over the perimeter fence. Our two golden hounds stood up instantly, low, menacing growls vibrating in their throats. Dad’s eyes turned lethal. Compared to human strangers, he trusted his dogs. The hounds knew exactly who was good and who was evil. He raised a hand, signaling everyone to be silent. The dogs obediently shut their mouths. “You’re useless!” I mouthed fiercely at Tommy, blaming him for not guarding the door and letting Grandma wander out. Tommy was terrified out of his wits and didn’t dare talk back. Afraid that Grandma and Grandpa might cause another accident, I directed Dad and Ethan to drag the heavy oak dining table over to barricade the front door. The table was made of a solid slab of timber, nearly four inches thick. Since the front door opened inward, it would be impossible for them to break through. The first-floor windows were completely secure. I told Ethan and Tommy to keep a strict eye on Grandparents, then I followed Dad back up to the second floor. Grace was scared to death now, clutching baby Lily tightly as she sat beside Jessica, not daring to breathe loudly. “Anyone home?” a man’s voice boomed from the courtyard. “We’re just passing through! Looking to get some water!” 7 Dad and I crouched beneath the second-floor window sill, peering down into the yard. Three men had entered the enclosure. They wore matching navy-blue utility jumpsuits. Stenciled across the backs in large bold letters was: PACIFIC POWER. Dad frowned, looking at me with deep suspicion. There was a wind farm on the adjacent ridge, and utility workers often came up for maintenance. Could they have just taken a wrong turn? “Dad, I really got that call. They are killers,” I whispered urgently. “But aren’t they from the electric company? Could the station have made a mistake?” Dad muttered, still hesitant. “Is anybody there? Just need some water!” the man shouted again. We held our breath, watching their every move. Seeing no response after a few shouts, the men sat down on our porch steps and took off their hard hats. One was tall and gangly, one was short and stocky, and the third wore wire-rimmed glasses. They looked exactly like ordinary blue-collar workers. It was impossible to connect them to vicious murderers. Dad’s brow furrowed even deeper. “Hey Marcus, looks like nobody’s home. Maybe we should hit the trail,” the tall one said. The short, stocky man—Marcus—ignored him. He walked over to our chicken coop, bending down to peer inside. “Clint, bring the bag over here. There are fresh eggs. Take them.” Marcus reached in and pulled out a handful of eggs, covered in feathers and dirt. Clint, the man with glasses, brought a canvas sack over, a look of pure disgust on his face. He clearly didn’t look like a country boy. “Hey, there’s smoked ham and dried corn hanging under the eaves. Should we grab ’em?” The tall, thin man stood on his tiptoes, reaching up. “Garrett, find another sack. We’re heading deep into the wilderness; we need to hoard all the food we can.” The tall one was Garrett. In truth, I knew exactly who they were. Twenty years later, when the case files were unsealed in my previous life, their names and faces had been branded into my very bones. Marcus Vance had served five years for violent assault. In prison, he met Garrett Boyd, who was doing time for attempted armed robbery. Clint Brady was Garrett’s brother-in-law. Not long after Marcus was paroled, Garrett invited him to a bar, where they got into a brutal brawl. They severely injured two people and killed another before fleeing into these mountains. Seeing them steal our food, Dad finally started to believe me. These were definitely not honest workers. I prayed silently, Just take the food and leave! Go deep into the woods and never come back! As if answering my prayers, they stuffed their sacks full of our provisions, opened the main gate, and strolled out arrogantly. I let out a long breath, my legs turning to jelly as I collapsed onto the floor. “Aunt Chloe, look!” Grace cried out, her voice trembling. I spun around, and my heart stopped.

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I went diving with my boyfriend during vacation. Underwater, his classmate Keira yanked off my mask. After barely making it back to shore alive, I immediately called the police and had her arrested. My boyfriend watched everything I did and nodded silently. “Keira really needed to be taught a lesson.” But a year later on the same date, I was kidnapped and taken to a deserted island. Slaps rained down on my face. “You love tattling to the police, don’t you? Go ahead, report me! You owe me this! You owe me!” The voice was familiar yet crazed—it was Keira, my boyfriend’s classmate who had just been released from prison. My face burned with stinging pain, but my boyfriend beside me remained unmoved. He even handed Keira a glass of hot water. “Don’t be scared. Once Keira vents her anger, it’ll be fine. We owe her this.” But he didn’t know—I was pregnant. And if my phone lost signal for more than 18 hours, it would automatically send my satellite location to my three brothers. 0 Tears welled in my eyes as I looked at Zachary with desperate hope. “Save me, please.” The usually proud me was begging him. It moved Zachary, but after glancing at Keira and looking back at me, his eyes held only apology. “I…” I’m carrying our child—but before I could finish, he cut me off. “Miranda, we owe Keira this.” Zachary kissed away the tears at the corners of my eyes, gently blowing on my reddened, swollen face. “Don’t worry, Keira knows her limits.” On the other side, watching Zachary kiss me only enraged Keira further. She grabbed the rope binding me and dragged me to the shore, kicking at the back of my knees. But my pride as a Holmes daughter wouldn’t let me kneel. “Let me go!” I kept shouting, but it was useless—this was an isolated island. “Shout all you want! I’m taking you diving. You love diving, don’t you?” She grabbed my hair and yanked hard. My scalp screamed with pain. “If you hadn’t gone diving, how would I have ‘accidentally’ removed your mask? It’s all your fault!” So it was about last year’s diving incident. But that was clearly deliberate—how could a woman in her twenties do that by accident? I twisted my body, struggling violently, which only made her pull my hair harder. “Stop moving!” Keira suddenly shoved my head underwater for dozens of seconds. Watching me choke and struggle, she revealed a maniacal smile. “I just love Zachary, that’s all. He rejected me, so I wanted to punish you a little. Why did you have to be so aggressive? Why did you have me arrested? What’s wrong with loving someone?” At this, Keira’s rage peaked, and she kicked me in the stomach. That one kick nearly caused a miscarriage. The intense pain made me cry out: “Help… save my baby!” Keira panicked too. Just then, footsteps sounded from the nearby bushes. It was Zachary, returning with the medical kit. Seeing me lying on the ground screaming, his pupils constricted. He slid to his knees beside me, trembling hands lifting me up. “Zachary, she’s pregnant? I think I kicked her and she’s bleeding. Do you feel sorry for her?” Keira ran to Zachary’s side, watching him anxiously. Zachary’s face looked terrible. Seeing this, Keira broke down crying. “What about me? What about the harm I suffered in prison? You knew I liked you!” Zachary struggled to tear his gaze from me, releasing his hold and laying me back down. He turned and embraced Keira, patting her soothingly. “I know, Keira, I know. But I only love Miranda.” He sighed again, his eyes overflowing with heartache as he looked at me. “This… this is what we owe you.” Zachary retrieved surgical tools from the medical kit that he always carried. In the dusty air, he walked toward me step by step. I wanted to push him away, but I had no strength left. I could only watch helplessly as Zachary’s hands moved. The anesthesia was administered. I lost consciousness. Zachary, is this what you meant by protecting me? When I woke again, I felt the connection with my child severed. I screamed in anguish: “What gives you the right? That was my child! What right did you have to decide his life or death alone?” Just two days ago, I’d ordered so many cute baby clothes online, imagining my baby calling me “Mommy.” 0

Zachary was the city’s renowned surgical prodigy. Patients he’d saved would come to the hospital to praise his skills. When I wanted to become a travel blogger, my family disagreed. After fighting with my eldest brother, I got into a car accident. It was Zachary who saved me. He decisively performed surgery on me right in the ambulance, saving my leg. He later became my attending physician. Back then, he was gentle as jade, yet his cheeks would flush slightly whenever he looked at me, and he’d bring me breakfast every day. Because of his shyness, even after I was discharged, he never worked up the courage to ask for my contact information. The next time I ended up in the hospital was for appendicitis. Zachary had prepared several surgical plans, explaining the risks of each one to me. Later, I passed by his office and overheard his conversation with a colleague. “Miranda Holmes’s surgery was already assigned to me. Why did you suddenly take it over? I’ve done thousands of these minor procedures, okay?” But Zachary told his colleague word by word: “I want Miranda Holmes’s surgery. Nothing can go wrong!” That was the moment my heart began beating for Zachary. And now? He moved me to a picnic blanket and performed an abortion on me outdoors, completely disregarding cross-specialty surgery protocols and environmental hygiene issues. That night, I lay in the tent with tears streaming down my face. Zachary was at a loss, wiping away my tears again and again. “Miranda, Miranda, don’t cry. We’ll have another child. I’ll stay with you tonight. Don’t be afraid—there are no wild animals on this island.” He kept pecking kisses on my face, each one bringing damp warmth, trying to dissolve my sadness. But how could the pain of losing a child disappear with just a few kisses? I suppressed the nausea churning in my stomach and didn’t move. Before the lights were even off, screams and sobs came from the tent next door. “Don’t come near me! Stay away!” Zachary looked at me with difficulty, hesitating. After a final scream erupted from the neighboring tent, he suddenly stood up and left. “Miranda, wait for me. I’ll be back.” After the moon shyly hid itself away, a fierce sound suddenly burst from next door: “Zachary, be gentle!” “Keep it down. Miranda’s asleep. This is the last time. I only love Miranda.” “Zachary, love me again, love me once more! You owe me this…” Keira whimpered and moaned. I don’t know what she did, but Zachary let out a muffled groan. “Fine, one last time. This is the last time!” Then came a series of explosive sounds, as if celebrating my miscarriage. Endless “last times.” I didn’t know whether to cry for my lost child or my lost love. I lay in the tent, my whole body in pain. I tried curling up to ease it, but it was useless. I crawled out of the tent bit by bit. Just a few more hours, and I could go home. But I felt so sorry for my unborn child. I would make them pay. Early the next morning, when Zachary emerged from her tent, I was sitting at the entrance of mine watching the sunrise. Seeing me, his face filled with panic. “Miranda, Keira was too scared last night, so I slept with her. Don’t worry—I only love you.” Zachary took off his jacket and draped it over me, looking concerned about me catching cold. Keira didn’t wake up until noon. She yanked the jacket off me and tossed it to Zachary, saying, “Zachary, I’m hungry. Let’s have barbecue. But we don’t have anything to start a fire with. What should we do?” “I know! We’ll use her clothes to start the fire!” Keira asked and answered her own question, then pointed at my skirt, about to step forward and take it off. This time, Zachary stood firmly in front of me. “No! Miranda just had an abortion yesterday!” “Why not? In prison, they used my clothes to start fires. Why can’t we use hers?” Keira knelt on the ground, muttering repeatedly: “When they stripped my clothes to start fires and made me bark like a dog, where were you? Why do you always help her? Who’s going to help me?” “I want my dad back!” Hearing this, Zachary felt another stab to his heart. Keira’s father was his lifesaver. To protect Zachary from an angry patient, he’d been stabbed through the heart and couldn’t be saved. From then on, Zachary had always taken care of Keira. He softened again. 0

Zachary turned to look at me. “Miranda, I’m sorry. I’ll only use your t-shirt. I’ll leave the skirt so you won’t catch cold.” I backed away in disbelief. After resting all night, I’d recovered some strength. I pushed him away hard and tried to run, but within a few steps, Keira grabbed my hair. “Don’t run! You owe me this!” Keira tore my t-shirt to shreds. The pieces fell to the ground. “Ah!” As the only daughter of the Holmes family, I had never suffered such humiliation. I swung my hand to slap her, but Zachary caught my raised arm. “Miranda, Keira’s still young.” Still young at over twenty? Keira was only five years younger than me. But I didn’t dare argue back. On this island, only Zachary had any surface-level affection for me. If I fell out with him, I didn’t dare imagine what would happen. I could only endure. Keira looked at the shredded clothes on the ground, her eyes suddenly brightening. She wove all the fabric scraps together into a long whip, then casually struck me across the face with it. “Bad dog!” Zachary was so close to me. He didn’t help me avoid the danger I faced, yet earlier he’d reflexively protected Keira. Though I’d decided last night I would never love him again, my heart still felt like it was being stabbed with needles. “Keira, what are you doing?” Zachary’s stern rebuke only made Keira more manic. “I’m making her be my dog! That’s what I did in prison too. If Dad were here, he’d help me.” She turned and retrieved a frisbee from the tent, threw it far away, then cracked the whip at me. “Go fetch it!” Zachary was still immersed in guilt over “if Dad were here, he’d help me,” indifferent to my situation. He even turned and said, “I’ll go make food.” Then he walked away without looking back. Keira’s whip kept striking my body, but my pride as a Holmes daughter wouldn’t allow me to submit. Seeing I still wouldn’t move, she bent down and whispered, “Miranda Holmes, if you play my dog this time, I’ll let you go.” Looking at her deranged expression, my anger reached its peak. “Keira, I can do it, but are you sure you can handle the Holmes family’s retaliation?” I stared directly into her eyes, my gaze filled with killing intent. She was startled, then burst out laughing. “The Holmes family? Everyone knows Holmes Group only has three sons. There’s no daughter! Now crawl!” When she said the last sentence, her eyes were vicious, and she struck me with another whip using all her strength. My body screamed with pain. I took a deep breath and knelt down on all fours. Keira jumped for joy, saying to me: “Good dog, go fetch!” I crawled toward the frisbee step by step. Every movement pulled at my body painfully. Keira followed behind me and whipped me again. “Bad dog! I told you to pick it up in your mouth!” I took a deep breath, picked up the frisbee with my teeth, and crawled toward Keira. When I reached her, she proudly patted my head. She bent down, revealing marks from last night’s battle, and whispered in my ear: “Good girl, so good. I’ll reward you with some good news!” “You don’t know this, but I didn’t suffer any injuries in prison. The women’s prison I stayed in—how could there be men to get me pregnant? It was just day after day of moral education lectures that gave me a headache.” “And my dad—that time when he blocked the knife during the medical dispute, I was the one who pushed him forward. I couldn’t let my beloved Zachary get hurt.” “Oh, and Zachary—last night’s Zachary was so passionate. You haven’t been satisfying him, have you? He wanted me again and again.” “Oops, I said too much. Good dog, you’ll keep my secret, won’t you?” Zachary in the distance didn’t hear what Keira said. He was still cooking with a guilty expression. Keira suddenly smiled, raised the whip, and struck herself with it. She screamed, and Zachary dropped what he was holding and ran over. But Zachary’s first glance wasn’t at her—it was at me, lying on the ground covered in sand. He wanted to come forward and brush the sand off me, but Keira collapsed weakly into his arms, her eyes brimming with tears. “Zachary, she hit me! Maybe she wants to play with you. Throw a frisbee and see if she’ll fetch it.” Zachary touched the whip mark on Keira’s arm, closed his eyes, and casually threw the frisbee dozens of meters away. I closed my eyes in despair… Suddenly, a roar came from the sky—the sound of a helicopter!

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On All Souls’ Day, my parents went home to sweep the graves. I was home alone and starving. I couldn’t resist eating a piece of bread from the offering plate. That afternoon, I started feeling nauseous. The next day, I was vomiting so hard I could barely stand. My best friend took me to the hospital for a checkup. When I saw the ultrasound results showing an early intrauterine pregnancy, I was completely stunned. I didn’t even have a boyfriend! Whose child was in my belly? I wanted to abort the baby, but my parents stopped me. They didn’t scold me or even ask whose child it was. They just took care of me attentively. Until the day of delivery, when I was delirious from pain. Before I could even look at the child, my father poured boiling water on my cervix while my mother strangled me tightly with a hemp rope. They looked at me with venomous eyes and said, “You got knocked up like a stray dog without even knowing who did it. Having a daughter like you is such a disgrace!” I fought back desperately, but it was useless. When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn to the day of the checkup. This time I was going to find out the truth about my pregnancy!

After finishing the examination, the doctor handed me the report. It showed “early intrauterine pregnancy.” Exactly the same result as my previous life. Seeing me in a daze, the doctor seemed impatient. “Go home and think about it. Whether you want it or not, decide quickly.” My best friend Emily quickly pulled me out of the examination room, asking as we walked. “Think carefully—did you actually do it with anyone…” “No!” I interrupted her. “I’m with you every day. Have you ever seen me talk more than a sentence to any guy?” Emily fell silent. My mind was a complete mess. I clearly hadn’t crossed any lines with anyone of the opposite sex. How could I be pregnant? I just ate a piece of bread. Could there be something wrong with the bread? My thoughts grew more chaotic. I took a deep breath. No matter what the truth was, I absolutely would not keep this child. “Emily, I’m heading home first. You be safe going back too.” Emily wanted to say something, but I didn’t give her the chance. I walked straight toward the exit. Only after making sure she couldn’t see me did I turn around and head to the obstetrics and gynecology surgery department. In my last life, I was too obedient, too weak. When they told me to give birth, I gave birth. When they told me to raise it, I raised it. I died without ever knowing what was inside my belly. Not this life. No matter how this child got here, no matter what they were planning, I was getting rid of it first! There was a long line outside the operating room. I sat in the corner, clutching that ultrasound report. After waiting forty minutes, my turn finally came. The female doctor looked me up and down, her face showing mockery. “Abortion? Another case of getting pregnant before marriage, right?” Seeing that I didn’t speak, she rolled her eyes directly. “I’ve seen plenty of irresponsible young people like you. At least you’re here to get an abortion, which proves your brain still works. Otherwise, with a mother like you, how miserable would that child be?” Her words made my face burn. I tried to explain. But she waved her hand to cut me off, very impatiently. “Alright, alright, hurry up and take off your clothes and lie down. I’m very busy.” I awkwardly unbuttoned my pants. The female doctor was about to change into her surgical gown when she suddenly remembered something. “Wait, you haven’t shown me the ultrasound report yet, right?” “Not yet.” I quickly handed the report over. Looking at the operating table right in front of me, the heavy burden in my heart lightened considerably. Once the surgery was done, I probably wouldn’t die again. The female doctor took the report, and the impatient expression on her face instantly became serious. The person who had just been urging me to get the surgery suddenly did a complete one-eighty. Her face darkened, looking at me as if I were a monster, her tone hostile: “I can’t do this surgery. Get out!” Both the assistant beside her and I were completely confused, not knowing what had happened. The assistant patted my shoulder to comfort me. She was about to speak up for me when, after seeing the report, she started cursing at me directly. “Get out now! You bitch, someone like you should go to the eighteenth level of hell!”

I was thrown out. The operating room door slammed shut heavily, and my heart sank to the bottom. What the hell was going on? I looked at the ultrasound report in my hand over and over, but couldn’t see anything unusual. Suddenly a hand grabbed me. It was Emily. “What are you doing?” I stumbled to steady myself as she dragged me outside. She didn’t say anything. I was dragged all the way out of the hospital entrance, and only under a streetlight did she let go. I took two steps back, panting. “Are you fucking crazy?” Emily stood opposite me, her eyes red-rimmed. She stared at me, taking a long time before forcing out a sentence. “You can’t abort it.” I was stunned. “This child came out of nowhere.” “I don’t even know how it got inside me. You think I should give birth to it?” Emily took my hand, her eyes full of worry. “Your body isn’t good to begin with. If you abort this child, what if you can’t get pregnant in the future?” I looked into her eyes and shrugged. “Being alone is pretty good. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me company when I’m old.” Emily immediately broke into a smile through her tears. “But don’t be impulsive. Wait until things are clear before aborting. It’s not too late.” I observed her reaction calmly. She really was concerned about me. My heart warmed. “You go home first,” I said. “I want to be alone for a while.” “But you…” she said hesitantly. “I won’t do it again. It’s too late today. I’ll go home and think about it first.” Emily looked at me, her eyes still red. “Then I’ll take you home.” “No need. I want to clear my head alone.” She hesitated for a few seconds, then let go of my hand. “Then message me when you get home.” I nodded in agreement. She turned and walked toward the other side of the street. After a few steps, she looked back at me. I stood in place without moving, waving at her. She finally disappeared around the corner. I waited five minutes. Then I turned around, hailed a taxi, and went straight to the nearest private clinic—24-hour abortion services. The abortion fee at the small clinic wasn’t cheap. I gritted my teeth and paid. The receptionist led me into a small examination room. A middle-aged male doctor sat inside. Seeing that I was dressed lightly, he thoughtfully handed me a jacket. “Are you an adult, young lady? Do your parents know?” I was a bit nervous. “I’m an adult. They don’t know.” The male doctor was stunned for a moment, then showed a kind smile. “Okay, don’t be afraid. My place may be small but it’s very legitimate. Don’t worry.” He had a very approachable appearance, and most of my nervousness dissipated. He poured me a glass of water and handed it to me. “Don’t feel ashamed. Pregnancy is normal, abortion is normal too. It doesn’t mean anything.” I looked at him gratefully. “Thank you, doctor!” The male doctor smiled. “No need to thank me. Let me see your ultrasound report.” Thinking of what happened earlier, I hesitated a bit. But the surgery had to be done. Steeling myself, I handed him the report. The male doctor glanced at the report. His smiling gaze instantly became terrifyingly sinister, as if he wanted to rush over and devour me. “I can’t do this surgery! Go die!” He splashed the half-finished water in my face, roaring in a sinister voice. “Get out! You filthy bitch, get out now!”

I was thrown out again. I clutched the report, nearly on the verge of collapse. What the hell was going on? Why wouldn’t anyone perform the surgery for me? What was wrong with this report? Whose child was in my belly? One mystery after another was driving me insane. But I couldn’t break down. I had to find out the truth! I wiped away my tears and started thinking about my next plan. Since hospitals wouldn’t perform the surgery, I’d just do a medical abortion. Where should I do it? I definitely couldn’t go home. That’s where I died in my last life. My phone vibrated. A message from Emily: Are you home? I looked at those three words and hesitated for a few seconds. I had no one else now, only her. I called her. “Hello?” Her voice was a bit hoarse, like she’d been asleep and was woken up. “Emily, can I sleep at your place?” I asked. There was a pause on the other end. “Where are you? I’ll come get you.” Forty minutes later, I was lying on the couch in her living room. Emily poured me a glass of hot water and sat next to me watching. “What’s really going on?” she asked. “Didn’t you say you were going home to think?” I looked at the cup in my hands without speaking. She didn’t rush me, just sat there. After a long silence, I spoke. “This child can’t possibly exist.” Emily looked at me. “I don’t even know where it came from,” I said. “I’ve never had a boyfriend, never did anything like that with anyone. I haven’t even had my first kiss.” She opened her mouth but didn’t speak. My mind went back to that bread on All Souls’ Day. “On All Souls’ Day, my parents went back to their hometown to sweep graves. I was home alone. I got hungry and ate a piece of bread from the offering table.” I looked at Emily. “That afternoon after eating it, I started feeling nauseous. The next day I was vomiting.” She froze. “You mean…” “I haven’t had sex, don’t have a boyfriend. The only possibility is that bread,” I said. “I got pregnant after eating it.” Emily stared at me, not speaking for a long time. Then she laughed. “How is that possible?” she said. “Getting pregnant from eating something? You think this is a myth?” “I know it sounds ridiculous, but I can’t think of anything else,” I sighed. “Then think about this,” she leaned forward. “The night after you ate the bread, after you fell asleep, did you feel sore all over when you woke up the next day?” I was stunned. “No.” “Are you sure?” “I’m sure. I just woke up normally.” “Then is it possible…” her voice lowered, “that someone came in?” I understood her implication. “Impossible,” I shook my head. “My house is on the seventh floor, the door lock was fine. And even if someone came in, how could I have felt nothing at all?” Emily stopped talking. After a moment of silence, I took a deep breath and said: “Emily, I don’t have any money right now. Can you lend me some? I need to take pills to abort the child.” She was stunned for a moment, then nodded. “What’s this talk of lending between us? Just use it. But won’t a medical abortion be risky? I’m worried about your body…” I shook my head: “The pregnancy is still early, medical abortion isn’t that dangerous.” Emily breathed a sigh of relief: “Then I’m relieved. But can you buy the abortion pills outside?” I sighed: “Probably not.” She frowned in thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “I’ve got an idea.” Emily picked up her phone and made a call. A few minutes later, she looked excited. “Done! The medicine will be delivered soon. A good friend of mine is a doctor—he prescribed it.” I hugged her gratefully. “Emily, thank you. Without you I wouldn’t know what to do.” My anxious heart settled down. At least I had a friend by my side who believed in me unconditionally. Half an hour later, the medicine arrived. Emily was afraid I’d make a mistake, so she had me rest while she busily prepared the medication herself. After preparing the medicine, she pushed me to take a shower, saying it was a necessary procedure. I happened to feel uncomfortable anyway, so I didn’t refuse and let her help me take off my jacket. The ultrasound report fell out of my pocket. Before I could pick it up, Emily had already grabbed it. “Oh, I haven’t looked at your report yet.” I tried to snatch it back, but she dodged. Emily held the report and looked at me with a smile. “Don’t be so stingy. The baby’s going to be aborted anyway—can’t you let me, the godmother, take a look?” With that, her gaze shifted to the report. Her sweet smile instantly vanished completely, replaced by a terrifying expression I’d never seen on her face before. Emily stared at me, her tone full of deep disgust and loathing. “The child can’t be aborted!” After saying this, she frantically dumped the prepared medicine into the trash can. I couldn’t care about her change in behavior. Everything stemmed from the thing in my belly. Tonight this child had to die! I lunged at her and grabbed the trash can. “Emily, what’s going on? What’s wrong with the report?” I asked while dodging. But Emily didn’t answer me, just chased after me like a mad dog. I was cornered. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if she wanted to kill me. I pressed against the wall, my mind in chaos. Just then, the doorbell rang.

It was my parents. Emily finally calmed down and opened the door. My mother stood at the entrance, my father behind her. Both their faces looked grim, but when they saw me, they forced smiles. “What are you doing here, Heather?” My mother walked in. “You sent a message saying you were sleeping at your friend’s place. We were so worried.” I leaned against the wall without moving. Everything that happened today was too bizarre. “It was too late so I didn’t go back,” I explained. My mother nodded, her gaze falling on what Emily was holding. That ultrasound report. She motioned for Emily to hand it to her. My mother took it and looked down at it. My father leaned over. The room was quiet for a few seconds. There was no change like I’d expected. They were just calm, like in my previous life. My mother looked up, her face wearing a smile. “It’s fine.” She put down the report and sat beside me. “If you’re pregnant, just give birth. Mom will help you raise it.” I looked at her. “You’ve had poor health since you were little,” she continued. “Abortion is too hard on the body. Keep this child—our family can afford to raise it.” Exactly the same as my previous life. Not a single word different. “Dad, Mom,” I spoke. “Aren’t you going to ask whose child this is?” They froze. My mother and father exchanged glances. Then my mother smiled again: “If you knew whose it was, you wouldn’t be hiding it like this. It’s okay, no matter whose it is, it’s our family’s child.” My father nodded beside her. I stared at their faces. In my previous life, I was convinced this way too. They said it was okay, said they’d help me raise it, said not to worry. I believed them, and then I died. This life I wouldn’t believe them again. “No,” I stood up. My mother froze. “What do you mean no?” “This child can’t be kept,” I said. “I have to abort it.” My mother’s face changed. “What are you talking about?” “I’m not talking nonsense,” I took a step back and grabbed the abortion pills from the trash, shoving them in my mouth. “This child’s origins are unknown. I don’t want it.” My father took a step forward: “Listen to your parents…” “I won’t listen!” Emily rushed over from the side, grabbed my arm, and kicked the trash can away. The remaining pills scattered all over the floor. “You can’t abort the child!” I shook her off. “Why not? Every single one of you won’t let me abort it, but do you know how this child got here? I don’t even know myself. Having it in my belly disgusts me!” No one spoke. I looked at the three of them. They all stared at me. Those eyes—exactly the same. I backed toward the side, backing up to the dining table and grabbing a fruit knife. Even though I knew from my previous life that my parents wanted me dead, at least not right now. I still wanted to gamble. Gamble with my life. “Let me abort it,” I pointed the knife at myself. “If you don’t let me abort it, I’ll die.” My mother screamed. “You’re crazy!” “I am crazy!” I shouted. “Let me abort it!” Emily rushed forward. I didn’t react in time. The next second, her hand was already around my throat. Her strength was frighteningly strong. She pinned me against the wall. My back hit it painfully, and the knife in my hand fell to the floor. “You fucking dare to die?” Her face was only four inches from mine. “You can die, but the child must live!” I struggled desperately, my nails clawing at her hand. My father and mother stood to the side, motionless. I suddenly understood. They were working together. From the very beginning. I was running out of breath, my vision starting to go black. Just then, my hand dropped and touched something. Then my eyes widened in disbelief. I knew—I finally knew whose child this was!

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