Mia and I both entered into strategic marriages with other wealthy families. But after the weddings, despite my perfect health, I couldn’t get pregnant. Meanwhile, Mia, who had been diagnosed with an inhospitable womb, quickly had a daughter with her husband—a man notorious for severe male-factor infertility. Outside the delivery room, a private doctor mistook me for my adopted sister and offered a comforting smile. “Everyone’s luck is different. Your sister has an incredible constitution, but you still have hope.” I forced a smile and politely corrected him about my identity. The doctor’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Then why haven’t you…” I was deeply stung. I assumed I just wasn’t trying hard enough. I went home and rigorously managed my diet and fitness, pushing my body to the limit. I even took Mia’s recommendation and started undergoing IVF treatments. Right after waking up from the procedure, cramping so badly I couldn’t stand straight, my phone buzzed. Mia, whose first pregnancy was already deemed a medical miracle, was pregnant with her second child. …… I stared at the text message on my phone, frozen in place. Envy and resentment washed over me like a suffocating tide. For some reason, my mind drifted back to the day I was brought home to my biological family. I was wearing faded, cheap clothes, looking entirely out of place in the sprawling Sterling estate. Mia, wearing a custom designer dress, showed no hostility in her eyes. Instead, she reached out and took my hand. “Sister, we’re family now.” My biological parents, their faces etched with guilt, sat me down. “Harper, Mom and Dad are so sorry. We promise to spend the rest of our lives making it up to you.” “We’ve already arranged strategic marriages for both you and Mia. Take a look and see which family you prefer.” Compared to living paycheck to paycheck as a wage slave for the rest of my life, an arranged marriage seemed like a small price to pay. I agreed without a second thought. A few days later, our pre-marital medical checkup results came back. The doctor’s expression was grave. “Harper exercises regularly and is in peak physical health.” “However, Mia… you have a congenitally weak reproductive system. Conceiving will be incredibly difficult for you.” That night, Mia came to see me privately. “Harper, the Vance family is incredibly powerful, but Carter Vance has severe fertility issues. If you marry him, you’ll definitely suffer the blame for not producing an heir.” “But with my condition, if I marry into the Vance family and we can’t conceive, neither of us can blame the other.” I was deeply touched at the time, thinking this was terribly unfair to Mia. She just smiled, her voice soft. “I lived in the Sterling house for twenty years, enjoying everything that was rightfully yours. It’s the least I can do.” My parents urged me as well. “Harper, listen to Mia. The Vance family is too complicated.” “You should marry into the Hayes family. Our families are on equal footing, and we know Ethan is a good man.” At the time, I thought I had finally found my happily ever after. Not only did I have a family, but I also had a great marriage lined up. I had no idea it was the beginning of a nightmare. Ethan Hayes was indeed very good to me. He was honest, loyal, and accommodated my every need. But a year into our marriage, my stomach remained perfectly flat. In these high-society alliances, producing an heir is the absolute top priority. The already tense atmosphere in the house completely exploded the day we received the news of Mia’s pregnancy. My mother-in-law went from polite and smiling to increasingly hostile. She muttered complaints all day long. “We bought a barren hen. If I had known, I would have had my son marry Mia. At least she could give me a grandson…” I was both furious and humiliated. Ethan immediately stepped in front of me, shielding me. “Mom, Harper is trying her best. You can’t blame her if it hasn’t happened yet. We can’t rush this.” My mother-in-law glared at me, raising her voice. “How can I not rush? Look at the Vances! They used to look down on Mia, but now that she’s pregnant, the whole family treats her like royalty. Everyone says she’s blessed with incredible luck. And look at our family…” Because of this, I cut out all my favorite foods. I worked out, tracked my sleep, and lived with a monk-like discipline that didn’t belong in the 21st century. I didn’t even dare use my regular skincare products, terrified that the chemicals might affect conception. Ethan and I went to the hospital for multiple extensive checkups. But the reports showed we were both perfectly healthy without a single issue. As for why I couldn’t get pregnant, even the doctors couldn’t explain it. My thoughts snapped back to the present. I tucked my medical file away and prepared to head home. A sudden gasp rang out, blocking my path. “Sister, are you here to visit me?” I looked up to see Mia wearing a loose, elegant maternity dress. One hand was carefully protecting her belly, while the other was tightly held by Carter Vance. Carter, who used to be arrogant and constantly spoke to Mia with cold disdain, now had eyes full of tenderness. “Walk slower, don’t be in such a rush. What if you bump into something?” Mia smiled and patted his hand. “I’m fine, I’m not that fragile.” Then, she turned to me, her eyes brimming with concern. “Harper, why are you at the hospital? Are you here for more tests?” I hid the IVF report behind my back, keeping my tone flat. “Yeah, just finished.” Just then, our parents walked out of a nearby clinic room. Seeing me, their smiles stiffened for a second. Then, they immediately turned their doting attention back to Mia. “Mia, you’re a mother of two now, you have to be careful with everything.” Carter quickly spoke up, his tone respectful. “Mom, Dad, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Mia. She’s the hero of our entire family now.” Ever since Mia helped Carter—who was practically sterile—have a daughter, her status in the Vance family skyrocketed. Mrs. Vance bragged to everyone in their social circle about Mia’s “fertile aura,” claiming her second child was guaranteed to be a boy. Even the Sterling family secured several lucrative business contracts riding on her coattails. My parents, who once felt deeply guilty toward me, now revolved their entire lives around Mia. My mom held Mia’s hand, looking more satisfied by the second, showering her with praise. “Mia really is our lucky charm. You are the pride of the Sterling family.” Saying that, she turned to me, her tone noticeably cooling. “Harper, how were the results? Still nothing?” My chest tightened. I gripped the medical file harder and whispered. “No.” My mom frowned, her voice dripping with disappointment. “Look at you. You’re so healthy, why can’t you just get pregnant? Are you even trying?” My dad sighed heavily. “Harper, stop being so stubborn. Take care of your body. The Hayes family is waiting for a grandchild.” Mia quickly played the peacemaker, grabbing my arm. “Oh right, Harper, did you drink that herbal remedy I sent you? It’s really helpful for conception.” Just hearing about that remedy sparked a fire in my gut. My tone was sharper than I intended. “I drank it. It didn’t work.” Not only did it not work, but it also caused a horrible breakout of cystic acne all over my face. I reached up and touched my cheek. The redness that had finally started to fade felt hot and inflamed again. Mia’s smile deepened for a fraction of a second, before she feigned surprise. “How could that be? It worked wonders for me. It completely stabilized my pregnancy.” I had zero patience for small talk, so I made an excuse and walked away. Without realizing it, I wandered over to the maternity ward nursery. I stopped in my tracks, looking through the glass at the tiny, pink newborns, my heart aching with envy. I had loved babies since I was a little girl. I thought they were the most beautiful things in the world. But now, it felt like I would never be able to have one of my own. “What are you doing?!” Suddenly, a shrill woman’s voice pierced the air. A new mother in postpartum loungewear rushed over and shoved me hard, her eyes fierce. “Who are you? Are you trying to steal my baby?” I stumbled back, desperately trying to explain. “You’re misunderstanding! I’m just a patient here for a checkup. I thought the babies were cute, so I was just looking.” The woman shielded the glass, her gaze still vicious. “A patient? How do I know you’re not faking it? What if you have some infectious disease and you give it to my kid?” “I don’t!” I said, my voice shaking with panic. “You don’t? Then show me your medical records!” The woman advanced on me, reaching out to snatch the file from my hand. I instinctively hid the papers behind my back, hesitating. The words IVF Report printed on the paper felt like a branding iron. I didn’t want anyone to see it. Especially not in such a humiliating situation. I didn’t want to be a laughingstock. But the more I dodged, the more certain the woman became that I was hiding something sinister. “What? Feeling guilty?” She sneered and lunged at me. She ripped the report right out of my hand. She quickly scanned the paper, then shouted to the growing crowd. “Everyone, look at this! This woman is doing IVF! She can’t have her own kids, so she came here to steal mine! How creepy!” The surrounding crowd immediately cast bizarre looks my way. Some were curious, some were disgusted, and some were full of pity. Those stares felt like physical needles piercing my skin. I clenched my fists, my voice freezing over. “What kind of nonsense are you spewing?! If I wanted a child, I could adopt! Why on earth would I steal yours?” Just then, Mia and my parents hurried over. Mia held her belly, took in the situation, and her eyes darted around. She quickly stepped forward, gently pulling the woman’s arm, and said softly. “Ma’am, please don’t be angry. My sister has just been struggling to get pregnant and is very anxious. She saw how cute your baby was and couldn’t help but look. She had no intention of stealing anyone.” The woman looked me up and down, her tone even more disdainful. “Look at the acne all over her face. You can tell she’s psychologically twisted and bitter. Someone like her, even if she could get pregnant, would be a terrible mother! Who knows what sick ideas she had in her head?” I was trembling with rage. I opened my mouth to tear into her, but my mom yanked me back. She frowned, her voice full of impatience. “Harper, you were the one at fault first. Stop causing trouble and making us a public joke.” I looked at my mother in utter disbelief. I had just glanced through a window, and I was being humiliated and slandered. Yet my family didn’t defend me; they thought I was the embarrassment. Mia quickly patted my back. “Sister, Mom is just looking out for you. Don’t argue with her, it’s not worth it.” I looked at the cold expressions on my parents’ faces, and then at the judging eyes of the crowd. All my grievance and anger were swallowed by a suffocating sense of powerlessness. I bit my lip, forcing my tears back down, turned on my heel, and walked away without another word. Just as I rounded the corner of the corridor, I heard a familiar voice. It was the new mother from a moment ago. Standing across from her was her husband. “Honey, I don’t think that woman meant any harm. Weren’t you a bit too harsh, poking right at her insecurities?” The woman stammered for a moment before finally confessing. “Actually, a pregnant woman named Sterling told me to do it. She said if I put on a good show, she’d pay me.” “I just saw how hard you work and wanted to make some quick money for diapers.” The man paused, shocked. “Aren’t they family? Why would she do that?” The woman shook her head, quickly pulling her husband away, lowering her voice. “Keep it down! We got paid, that’s all that matters.” It felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. I stood frozen, unable to process the shock. Mia. Why would she do this? Chapter 2 When I got home, Ethan was already waiting in the living room. Seeing my pale face, he quickly rushed over to support me. “You look awful, are you feeling sick?” “I’m sorry, work has been so crazy I haven’t had time to go with you.” I forced down the turmoil in my heart, shook my head, and squeezed out a smile. “I’m fine, just a little tired. The IVF went smoothly. The doctor said we’ll do a follow-up in a week to see how things look.” Ethan breathed a sigh of relief and helped me sit down. “That’s good. Don’t stress too much. No matter what the result is, I’m right here with you.” My heart ached, but I didn’t dare tell him about the nightmare at the hospital. Over the next few days, while resting my body, I couldn’t stop replaying the past in my mind. The more I thought about it, the more twisted it all felt. Mia’s concern over my pregnancy felt too deliberate. Too passionate. Ever since I got married, she frequently sent me obscure folk remedies, always adding a special note. “Harper, I had to pull a lot of strings to find this. It works miracles. I’m drinking it myself, you have to try it.” Before, I was overflowing with gratitude, thinking she genuinely cared. But looking back, those remedies were bizarre. Some smelled putrid, others made my body run unnaturally hot. I only dared to drink one once before I couldn’t stomach it anymore. But coincidentally, the day after I drank that potion, Mia announced her first pregnancy. At the time, I was genuinely thrilled for her. “Mia, your hard work finally paid off!” “But you’re fragile, and the doctors said you’re high-risk. Please be careful.” Later, I found out Mia’s daily routine was a mess. She stayed up late and did whatever she wanted. Yet, her pregnancy was unnaturally stable. There wasn’t a single scare. And that was exactly the time I was driving myself crazy trying to conceive. Going to bed early, strict diets, daily workouts—and still, an empty womb. When Mia safely delivered her daughter, the Vance family rejoiced. I felt envious but bitter, and my anxiety pushed me to try IVF. But I never expected that right after my procedure… Mia, who hadn’t even finished her postpartum recovery, announced she was pregnant again. The doctors explicitly said she had an inhospitable womb and severe fertility issues. Even if she conceived, miscarriage was highly likely. Yet she not only got pregnant on the first try, she got pregnant back-to-back. It was too much of a coincidence. Especially since every time I made a major move to get pregnant, she magically had good news. Was all of this really just luck? The week flew by. On the day of the follow-up, Ethan took time off work to go with me. But the doctor only sighed. “Mrs. Hayes, I’m very sorry, but the transfer wasn’t successful.” My eyes instantly reddened with tears. Right at that moment, my phone rang. It was my mother. “Harper! Great news! The doctors checked, and Mia is having a boy!” “The Vance family is going crazy with joy. Our family’s luck is finally turning around!” Unable to bear it a second longer, I hung up on her. Ethan pulled me into his arms, comforting me softly. “You’ve tried your best. We can’t force fate.” I leaned against his chest, tears blurring my vision. My suspicions had grown into a roaring fire. It was all too coincidental. I drank her remedy, she got pregnant. I did IVF, she got pregnant with baby number two. My IVF failed, and she immediately found out she was having a boy.

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When Mason asked for a breakup, I thought he was just throwing another tantrum. After all, everyone in the Upper East Side elite circle knew we had been childhood sweethearts, breaking up and making up for over a decade without ever truly severing ties. Too proud to be the first to beg for peace, I had my best friend text him, saying I had committed suicide. I didn’t expect Mason’s reply to her: [Tell her to drop dead! In fact, why didn’t you go die with her!] At the exact same time, Mason’s grad-school mentee updated her Instagram story. “Spring is here. I was going to hire a male stripper for the night, but this gorgeous guy insisted on throwing himself at me. Saved me $500.” The “stripper” wrapping his arms tightly around her neck in the photo was none other than Mason. When Mason asked for a breakup, I thought he was just throwing another tantrum. After all, everyone in the Upper East Side elite circle knew we had been childhood sweethearts, breaking up and making up for over a decade without ever truly severing ties. Too proud to be the first to beg for peace, I had my best friend text him, saying I had committed suicide. I didn’t expect Mason’s reply to her: [Tell her to drop dead! In fact, why didn’t you go die with her!] At the exact same time, Mason’s grad-school mentee updated her Instagram story. “Spring is here. I was going to hire a male stripper for the night, but this gorgeous guy insisted on throwing himself at me. Saved me $500.” The “stripper” wrapping his arms tightly around her neck in the photo was none other than Mason. …… I couldn’t believe my eyes. After staring at that painfully familiar face in the photo for a few seconds, my hands shook as I FaceTimed Mason. To my shock, the face that abruptly popped up on the screen was Scarlett’s, beaming with a radiant smile. “Mason is in the shower. If you have something to say, you can just tell me. It’s the same thing.” I stared blankly at the screen. Across Scarlett’s exposed collarbone was a cluster of bright red hickeys. The background was a messy, white hotel bed. I could faintly hear the sound of the shower running. Scarlett let out a scoff. “Looks like you’re still confused. I’ll send you a link to a post; you’ll understand everything once you see it.” Without waiting for my reply, she hung up and texted me a link from her own account. Numbly, I clicked on it. Though the poster’s profile picture was just a blurry silhouette, I instantly recognized it as Mason. Turns out, he had a secret burner account I knew nothing about. The post featured a video he had taken of me during our ski trip to Aspen last winter. In the video, I was holding a bouquet of winter blooms, skipping happily through the snow-capped mountains. But the caption read: She’s always so happy every time we go out. How do I tell her I stopped loving her a long time ago? I stopped loving her a long time ago! Every single word felt like a dagger plunged directly into my chest. It hurt so much I could barely breathe. But my first reaction was still denial. Mason and I had twenty years of history, a passionate and fiery romance. Everyone in New York society knew the Sterling and Crawford families had essentially arranged our marriage. Next month, after graduating with our Master’s degrees, we were supposed to have our wedding. Unless I heard him say he didn’t love me with his own mouth, some bullshit burner post meant nothing! Like a madwoman, I ran downstairs, hopped into my car, and sped straight to The Ritz-Carlton. Mason had a permanent VIP suite there. But the moment I reached his door, I heard the unmistakable, heavy panting echoing from inside. The sound wrapped around me like a curse, driving me to the brink of insanity. I bit my lip so hard that the metallic taste of blood bloomed in my mouth. I don’t know how much time passed, but masochistically, I stood there and listened to the entire process. Suddenly, the door swung open. Along with Mason’s face came the heavy, unmistakable scent of sex. The corners of Mason’s eyes were still flushed with lust. Seeing me, he didn’t panic at all. He just raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Didn’t you say you committed suicide? You look perfectly healthy grinding your teeth like that.” My gaze bypassed him, landing on Scarlett, who was taking her sweet time getting dressed on the bed, and the used condoms scattered on the floor. Through my blurry, tear-filled eyes, I saw her smile provocatively. “What are you so shocked about?” “It’s not like this is my first time with him. Empty classrooms, campus rooftops, the bed in his parents’ mansion, and even the sofa in that apartment you share with him… we’ve done it everywhere.” “Today I just wanted a thrill. I wanted you to come stand outside the door and listen, which is why I posted that story for you to see.” “Got to say, I’ve never seen Mason as excited as he was just now.” A wave of intense nausea hit me. My internal organs felt like they were twisting into knots. I looked up at Mason, my voice hoarse. “Is everything she said true?” Our eyes met, and Mason gave a lazy shrug. “I have nothing to defend.” The next second, I rushed into the hallway bathroom and threw up until my vision went dark. Footsteps echoed behind me, and a familiar, large hand gently patted my back. I looked up, seeing my bloodshot eyes in the mirror. Mason let out a sigh. “Chloe, can we calm down? We’ve already broken up.” My entire body ran cold. I stared at his reflection dead in the eye. “Scarlett joined your advisor’s lab three months ago. Over these last three months, we’ve ‘broken up’ so many times. Tell me, which time was the real one?” “Every single one.” The brief answer made my scalp go numb with agony. It turned out that what I thought were just lovers’ quarrels were his premeditated attempts to leave me. Seeing how deathly pale my face was, he sighed helplessly and turned to Scarlett. “You head back first. Chloe and I need to talk.” Scarlett smiled with absolute confidence. “Sure. After all, it’s not easy to cleanly sever twenty years of history.” With that, she left. Mason’s infatuated gaze followed her retreating figure, exactly the way he used to look at me with such deep devotion. It wasn’t until Scarlett’s footsteps completely faded away that he finally brought his eyes back to my face. “Why?” I asked, my voice trembling. “There is no ‘why’.” Mason lit a cigarette and leaned lazily against the wall. “I got bored of you. I got tired of us.” “But none of this has anything to do with Scarlett. She might seem arrogant on the surface, but she’s innocent at heart. She never wanted to get between us.” “Don’t go looking for trouble with her. If you’re mad, take it out on me. I’m the one who wanted to break up with you over the last three months; you’re the one who refused to take it seriously.” I suddenly burst into laughter, my heart aching so badly it trembled. “Mason Crawford, are you really defending her like this?” “Then what about me? What am I?!” I screamed at him, my voice tearing. “When you ran toward me with flowers at seventeen, when you kissed me under the stars at eighteen, when we lay in the same bed for the first time at twenty… did you ever think there would come a day where you’d treat me like this for another woman?!” His hand holding the cigarette paused, his cold eyes flashing with a hint of red. “No. I never thought we’d end up like this. But that’s all in the past.” “Chloe, maybe the seventeen-year-old me loved you desperately, but the twenty-five-year-old me undeniably doesn’t.” “We can’t let a few moments from our past shackle our entire future.” I stared at his hardened profile. My heart squeezed with a pain so intense I couldn’t speak. Twenty years of feelings. From childhood companionship to adult intimacy—shattered into dust by his few weightless sentences. My last shred of dignity stopped me from making any more futile arguments. I turned and walked away, every step feeling like I was walking on broken glass. But the man behind me suddenly lunged forward and grabbed my wrist. “You’re too emotional right now. I don’t feel safe letting you leave alone. I’ll drive you home.” One sentence, and in a daze, it felt like we were back in the days when he still loved me. But there was undeniably no trace of that past affection left in his eyes. I forcefully ripped my hand out of his grasp, shedding tears of self-mockery. “No need. Since the love is gone, we should make a clean break. Dragging things out isn’t my style!” “Even if we aren’t a couple anymore, we still grew up together! I still care about your safety!” He yelled at me, frowning, and without giving me a chance to refuse, he practically dragged me to his car and shoved me into the passenger seat. My gaze abruptly landed on the plushie hanging from his rearview mirror—a little figure in a racing suit. Belatedly, I remembered Mason once mentioning that Scarlett was an amateur race car driver. When did this plushie get hung up here? I couldn’t even remember. I watched Mason driving with a serious expression, not knowing exactly when the love between us had begun to rot. The car drove all the way into my upscale neighborhood and stopped in front of my family’s estate. Usually, at this moment, we would share a passionate, lingering kiss, refusing to let each other go. But today, swallowing the burning acid behind my eyes, I didn’t look at him. I simply reached for the door handle. Yet Mason grabbed my hand again. “Chloe,” he called my name, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry…” “Save your apologies,” I cut him off. “They make me sick!” I violently yanked my hand back. As I did, my arm struck the rearview mirror, shattering the little racer plushie. Instantly, his brow furrowed in deep distress. He ignored me entirely, dropping down to meticulously gather the broken pieces. I gave him one last look, turned, and ran into my house. Outside the door, Mason’s phone started to ring. Perhaps because his hands were full, he put it on speaker. “Mason, I saw your mentee’s Instagram story. Are you really with her? What about Chloe? Are you seriously throwing away twenty years together?” It was my best friend, Maya. I bit my lip so hard it bled, waiting for Mason’s response. After a long silence, his exhausted voice drifted through the door. “Even if it’s hard to let go, I’ve already said the cruelest things to Chloe to her face. Ripping the band-aid off quickly will hurt her less in the long run.” “Because right now, I am absolutely certain: I want to be with Scarlett, not Chloe.” In that exact moment, I heard something inside me snap. It completely shattered. A thick, intense wave of sourness mixed with the metallic taste of blood surged up my throat. I violently coughed up a massive mouthful of blood. The next second, I completely lost consciousness. The smell of antiseptic. I slowly opened my eyes. My vision was filled with the stark white ceiling and walls of a hospital room. My parents and Maya were standing by my bed, their eyes red, watching me anxiously. “Chloe! Two days and two nights! You’re finally awake. Do you have any idea that you’re pregnant?!” I froze, my hand subconsciously moving to my flat stomach. Why? Why now, of all times? My mom took my hand, tears streaming down her face. “Chloe, we know what that bastard Mason did.” “This baby… what do you want to do?” “Don’t worry, aside from the three of us, no one else knows this child exists.” “Whatever you decide, we support you.” I lowered my eyes, a thousand thoughts rushing through my mind. Seeing my conflict, my parents and Maya knew I was struggling. “We’ll go get you some food and pastries. Take your time and think about it.” “Even if you want to keep the baby and ditch the father, the Sterling family is more than wealthy enough to raise a child!”

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Three years after our divorce, my ex-husband showed up at my door. In his arms was the baby he had with the mistress who destroyed our marriage. “She passed away,” he said. “Her dying wish was for the child to have a complete family.” I rolled my eyes hard, fully intending to slam the door in his face. But then he dropped a bombshell: “I will transfer all my money and every property in my name to you. Just treat this child as your own.” I immediately snatched the baby into my arms, smiling like a blooming flower: “Come here, sweetie! Call me Mom!” 1 Oliver Sterling stood at my front door, holding a toddler who had barely learned to walk. “She got sick and passed away. Before she left, her biggest wish was for the baby to grow up in a healthy, complete family.” “Chloe, you’re the only one I can count on.” The “she” Oliver was referring to was the other woman who had wedged herself into our marriage and successfully taken my place. And this little guy in his arms was the physical proof of their “true love.” I rolled my eyes in annoyance and grabbed the door handle, ready to shut it. But Oliver threw out bait I simply couldn’t refuse. “Every single asset in my name can be transferred to yours.” “As long as you raise this child as your own flesh and blood.” I instantly swung the door wide open and smoothly scooped the child into my arms. “Such a good baby. Say ‘Mommy’.” Oliver pulled back his expensive Italian leather shoe, which had been wedged in the doorframe and was now visibly creased. “He’s too little. He hasn’t learned to talk yet.” “If you have no objections, we can go to the courthouse and get remarried tomorrow.” Surprisingly, being held by a total stranger didn’t scare the kid at all. He was incredibly calm. He looked exactly like Oliver did in his childhood photos. I held the toddler’s chubby little hand tightly, refusing to let go for even a second. This wasn’t just a child. This was a literal golden goose falling straight from the sky. “We can go right now,” I said. I was crouching down, so I had to tilt my head way back to look at Oliver. He was too tall. My neck was practically cramping before I could clearly see his face. “Actually, never mind. Let’s give you a few days to calculate exactly how much money and real estate you have under your name first.” “Just to be safe, we should sign a prenuptial agreement before we remarry, so things don’t get messy later.” Oliver stared down at me, his lips pressed tightly together. He didn’t say a word. He just reached out and took the child back, not letting me touch him anymore. “The baby is too young. He needs someone with him at all times.” “Move back into the Sterling mansion before tomorrow morning.” Was that an order? I was furious. I wanted to jump up and slap him across the face. But then the thought of the hundreds of millions of dollars in his name flashed through my mind, and I forcefully swallowed my anger. I forced a flawless, professional smile. “No problem, Mr. Sterling.” Honestly, even before Oliver showed up at my door, I had seen the news about Mia’s death. Mia had been battling cancer for over six months. During that time, Oliver dropped almost all his work projects and flew her overseas for cutting-edge treatments. The media had a field day reporting on how much the CEO of Sterling Enterprises doted on his wife. It got to the point where everyone almost forgot exactly how he and his current wife had gotten together in the first place. But no matter how much money Oliver threw at it, he couldn’t buy his wife’s life. A week ago, Mia, wasted away by cancer, finally passed. Oliver was devastated. He threw Mia an absurdly extravagant funeral. On the day of the service, in front of a swarm of reporters, Oliver took off his sunglasses, revealing eyes swollen like walnuts. Tears were streaming down his face. “I couldn’t give her a proper wedding back then, so all I can give her now is the grandest funeral.” “I love her more than anything in this world.” I saw all of this on the news. Oliver treated Mia like his most precious treasure. So before he showed up at my door, it never even crossed my mind that he would come to me. More accurately, I never expected him to come to me this fast. When I headed to the Sterling mansion, I dragged a single carry-on suitcase packed with a few changes of clothes. Oliver, holding the baby, stood at the front door and looked me up and down. “That’s all you brought? Chloe, do you think you’re just here for a vacation?” Then, he quickly backpedaled and answered his own question. “Never mind. The Sterling house has everything anyway.” “If you need anything, just tell Mr. Lee. Don’t be a stranger.” Hilarious! I lived in this house way longer than Mia ever did! But I kept my smile and nodded obediently. “Understood, Mr. Sterling.” As I was carrying my suitcase upstairs, I bumped right into Mr. Lee, the butler, who was coming down. Mr. Lee rubbed his eyes hard, several times. “Mrs. Sterling?” He looked like he had seen a ghost, instinctively backing up several steps until his foot slipped and he landed hard on his butt on the stairs. “No, no, Ms. Davis, why are you here—” Before he could finish, I cut him off with a bright smile. “You’re trying to ask why I’m back, right?” Mr. Lee didn’t say a word. He just stared at me with a terrified expression. Like he had just witnessed a corpse sit up in its coffin first thing in the morning. I rested my hands on my knees, bent down, and looked him right in the eye. “Mr. Lee, I’m back.” “Aren’t you happy?” Back before Oliver and I divorced… Oliver would often wait until I was away on business trips to bring Mia into the house to fool around. If it hadn’t been for Mr. Lee covering for them and lying to both sides, it wouldn’t have taken me so long to discover their disgusting affair. Mr. Lee was essentially the most obedient dog Oliver ever owned. Seeing Mr. Lee so flustered and panicked, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “It looks like our head butler didn’t even know I was coming back?” So, it turned out he wasn’t privy to everything Oliver did after all. This was going to make things much easier. I stood up straight, grabbed my suitcase, and continued up the stairs, casually tossing a sentence over my shoulder. “It’s been three years and you still haven’t managed to become Oliver’s trusted confidant? You aren’t working hard enough.” 2 I officially remarried Oliver on the third day after moving back into the Sterling mansion. The agreements were signed and notarized by a team of lawyers. Everything was set in stone. I sat on the cashmere rug in the living room, idly shaking a toy to entertain the little guy. Oliver sat next to us, incredibly patiently reading a storybook to the baby. His voice was soft, radiating a deep, undeniable tenderness. Anyone watching would think this was a picture-perfect, loving family. It’s just a shame this child wasn’t mine. It’s just a shame this was all an act. After coaxing the baby to sleep… Oliver put down the storybook and carefully carried the sleeping child into the nursery. I tossed the toy aside, sprawled out on the rug, and scrolled through my phone out of boredom. This designer bag is nice. Buy! This diamond necklace is gorgeous. Buy! These are all amazing. Buy, buy, buy! Until a large shadow completely blocked my view. I sat up abruptly, staring at Oliver defensively. “Mr. Sterling, any further instructions?” Oliver stood with his hands in his pockets, looking down at me. “As a responsible mother, shouldn’t you be in the nursery watching over him right now?” “Chloe, I know you’ve never given birth, but you should at least learn how to take care of a child, right?” “From the moment we remarried, you became this child’s mother.” My grip on my phone tightened involuntarily. It’s true I had never given birth, but I had lost a child. Three years ago. On the exact day I first caught Oliver cheating. I had just returned from a grueling two-week business trip, feeling like my body was about to fall apart. It happened to be Mr. Lee’s day off. I didn’t call for a company driver; I just grabbed a cab and went straight home. My only thought at the time was: Take a hot bath, and then sleep for days in Oliver’s arms. But when I pushed the door open… The scene before my eyes instantly vaporized every ounce of my exhaustion. Oliver was holding another woman, lying right in our marital bed. The most laughable part was that our wedding portrait was hanging directly above them. That day, I not only discovered Oliver was cheating, but I also found out I was pregnant. Unfortunately, by the time I knew, it was already too late. I couldn’t keep the baby. Back then, to protect Mia, Oliver hadn’t hesitated to slap me hard across the face. “Chloe, are you done throwing a tantrum?!” He was the one screwing around outside, yet he acted like I was the one being unreasonable. I had been working overtime for two weeks straight; my body was already completely drained. Oliver’s slap carried so much force that I couldn’t even stay on my feet. I hit the floor hard, slicing my forehead open on the nightstand. And because of that slap, I lost my baby. It was the first child we had conceived in our five years of marriage, and the only one. Perhaps realizing he had misspoken, Oliver cleared his throat, about to explain. I looked up and smiled like nothing had happened. “Understood, Mr. Sterling.” “Starting today, I’ll learn how to take care of the baby. I’ll strive to be a perfect mother you can’t find a single flaw in.” The words caught in Oliver’s throat, and he swallowed them back down. He avoided my gaze, adding a sentence as if trying to give himself an out. “Alright. Just do your best.” Probably feeling guilty… That day, Oliver had someone deliver a mountain of designer bags and jewelry. It completely stuffed my previously empty walk-in closet. Mr. Lee approached me with a fawning expression. “Mrs. Sterling, is there anything else you require?” I casually sifted through the sparkling jewelry, not even giving him a direct look. But I couldn’t resist making him uncomfortable. “There’s still a pile of boxes downstairs. Those aren’t for me, are they?” The staff had clearly unloaded way more boxes in the driveway earlier. Almost half of the delivery hadn’t even been brought to my room. Mr. Lee looked incredibly awkward, stammering for a long time before finally getting a sentence out. “Mrs. Sterling, those…” I put down the jewelry and turned to look at him. “Hard to say?” Honestly, I had already guessed what was going on. But I needed someone to say the truth out loud. Mr. Lee lowered his head, his voice barely louder than a mosquito’s hum. “Mr. Sterling ordered them for the former Mrs. Sterling.” “Mr. Sterling specifically instructed that whatever you have, the former Mrs. Sterling must also have, and hers must be even better.” On the surface, Mr. Lee looked timid, but his words cut like a knife. It felt like he was intentionally trying to retaliate against me. Former Mrs. Sterling? He meant Mia. Time is a truly bizarre thing. It can dilute feelings, and it can also blur the order in which people arrive in your life. How did a woman who climbed the ranks by being a mistress become the legitimate “former Mrs. Sterling”? Just because she died before me? I forced a smile, too lazy to argue with a dead woman. “Get out.” 3 After Oliver and I remarried… Aside from the time we spent together playing with the baby, we lived completely separate lives. I lived in the master suite on the second floor. Oliver lived in the master suite on the third floor—the bedroom he had shared with Mia. I don’t have many special talents, but I am exceptionally good at maintaining boundaries. I never stepped foot in Oliver’s room. But I could guarantee that room was stuffed to the brim with everything related to Mia. A month passed in the blink of an eye. Oliver still hadn’t recovered from the blow of losing his wife. In fact, he was getting worse day by day. He only managed to act like a normal person when he was in front of the baby. The moment he was out of the child’s sight, it was like his soul left his body. He was like a walking corpse. A puppet drained of all vitality. Late one night. The baby’s sharp, piercing cries tore through the quiet night. Like a miserable employee forced to work overtime, I groggily dragged myself upstairs. The nursery was on the third floor, right next to Oliver’s bedroom. When I pushed the door open, I saw Oliver bent over, softly trying to coax the baby, who had clearly had a nightmare. The entire nursery smelled strongly of alcohol. Oliver was drowning his sorrows again. I reached out, tugged his sleeve, and lowered my voice. “Go outside, get some fresh air, and sober up. Don’t suffocate the baby with those fumes.” Oliver lifted his arm, sniffed his own clothes, nodded, and walked out. I picked the baby up and, following the techniques I had learned online, rhythmically patted his back. Thank god. This child was too young to remember what his biological mother looked like. Plus, during the six months Mia was sick, she hadn’t had the energy to take care of him anyway. Raised primarily by a nanny since birth, the child naturally wasn’t crying and screaming for his “mommy.” Since I had been by his side every day for the past month, he genuinely treated me as his mother. After coaxing the baby back to sleep… I quietly slipped out of the nursery, ready to go back downstairs to bed. Oliver was standing by the window at the end of the hallway, leaving me with only his lonely silhouette. I wasn’t pathetic enough to interrupt another person’s mourning session for their dead wife. But just as my foot hit the first stair, Oliver suddenly spoke. “Chloe, can you talk to me for a bit?” “In this whole world, I honestly don’t know who else I can pour my heart out to.” I stopped on the stairs, but I didn’t answer right away. I ran it through my head before finding an excuse to reject him. “Mr. Sterling, my job is to take care of the child. I don’t provide psychological counseling services.” Oliver sighed softly. “Chloe, if only I had never proposed to you back then.” “Being good friends for the rest of our lives would have been so much better than ending up like this.” “Chloe, do you hate me?” Hearing that, I finally turned around to look at him properly. Oliver turned his head to look at me too, his eyes full of disappointment. “Chloe, you hate me, don’t you?” I looked at Oliver acting like his life was ending, and I just found it funny. Hate? Why would I hate the golden goose who was handing me his fortune? I stared right into his eyes, my tone incredibly calm. “Mr. Sterling, you’re overthinking it.” “In the adult world, there isn’t that much dramatic love and hate. Everyone just takes what they need.” “You paid me to be a mother to this child. I’m doing the job I was paid for. This is a fair transaction.” Oliver froze. He clearly hadn’t expected me to say that. In his mind, I was supposed to be a bitter ex-wife. I was supposed to point a finger at his nose and curse him out, or throw myself into his arms and weep bitterly. Too bad I haven’t been that naive, lovesick girl for three years. I yawned and turned back toward the stairs. “Get some sleep, Mr. Sterling. I have to meet with the lawyers tomorrow to finalize the details of the asset transfers.” Oliver didn’t say another word. First thing the next morning, I had the lawyers bring a thick stack of documents to the Sterling mansion. Since the agreements were signed and notarized, I needed to secure the bag as quickly as possible. I sat on the living room sofa, verifying the asset inventory line by line. Real estate, luxury cars, stocks, mutual funds, and forty percent of the shares in Sterling Enterprises. Looking at those numbers, I could literally breathe easier. Mr. Lee walked over with a cup of coffee, his face looking like he had swallowed a fly. “Mrs. Sterling, these properties have been built up by generations of the Sterling family. Are you truly going to transfer them all to your own name?” I took a sip of the coffee without even lifting my eyelids. “Mr. Lee, what kind of question is that?” “It’s written right here in black and white. Oliver gave these to me willingly. Why make it sound like I’m robbing him at gunpoint?” Mr. Lee gritted his teeth and lowered his voice. “Aren’t you afraid the former Mrs. Sterling is watching you from heaven?” I couldn’t hold it back—I burst out laughing. I set the coffee cup down, stood up, and walked right up to him. “Let her watch.” “If she’s really that capable, she can crawl up from the grave and find me.” “But Mr. Lee, aren’t you overstepping your bounds?” “My current status is the lady of the Sterling household. You are an employee collecting a paycheck. What gives you the right to dictate what I do?” Mr. Lee was rendered speechless, his face flushing deep red. I turned to the lawyer. “Mr. Davis, please draft a termination agreement.” “Mr. Lee is getting old, and his mind isn’t quite clear anymore. He’s no longer suitable to continue working for the Sterling family.” Mr. Lee’s head snapped up, his face full of disbelief. “You’re firing me?! Mr. Sterling will never agree to this!” I shrugged. “Then go ask him. Ask him if he wants his butler, or if he wants a good wife who can take care of his child.” Furious, Mr. Lee ran upstairs to complain to Oliver. Less than ten minutes later, he came back down, looking entirely defeated. He didn’t dare utter a single word as he went back to his room to pack his things. Watching his back as he dragged his suitcase out the door, I felt incredibly satisfied. Three years ago, he helped Oliver and Mia humiliate me. Today, I sent him packing. And this was just the beginning.

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As the absolute pinnacle of Hollywood’s A-list and the ultimate It-girl of the internet, If I post a single selfie, The comments can easily break a hundred million. Trending on X and Instagram is practically my daily routine. People either call me a pure, talentless plastic vase, Or they curse me out, saying I post online just to seek attention over nothing. I literally do not care! The most important weapon to dominate this industry Isn’t my acting skills or my raw talent, It’s my drop-dead, devastated-nations, flawless face. Sure, Hollywood has never had a shortage of beautiful women. But there is a difference between a swan and the most beautiful swan in the lake. Even if my acting is explosively terrible, Even if I sing off-key and trip over my own feet when I dance, Even if my business acumen is zero and my EQ is in the negatives, The audience simply eats up this face! My Instagram notifications crashed the app again. When my assistant, Lexi, called me, she sounded like she was on the verge of tears: “Chloe, look at Twitter right now!” “Serena Vance is throwing shade at you in her latest interview!” I was sitting in front of my vanity mirror, carefully inspecting my fresh manicure. Hearing this, I just gave a lazy, “Mhm.” Oh well, rivals dragging me is just human nature. Beautiful people are always hated by the jealous! “She said, ‘A soulless shell won’t make it far in this industry’!” “Now her fans and your fans are tearing each other apart online!” “The PR department’s phones are ringing off the hook. They’re saying she’s a tough target and want to know how we should respond.” On the other end of the line, Lexi was pacing like a cat on a hot tin roof. I held my hand up to the light, admiring the sparkle of the crushed diamonds on my nails, and casually asked: “That photoshoot I did yesterday, are the edits done?” “Chloe! Now is not the time!” Lexi was losing her mind. “Serena Vance just won the Academy Award! She’s at the absolute peak of her career right now. Her words carry weight!” “The whole internet is mocking us, calling you a vase, saying you have absolutely nothing to offer except your face!” “Oh,” I finally found a shred of interest. I put my hand down, Opened the front-facing camera on my phone, tilted my head to find the perfect angle, “Isn’t that perfect, then?” “The harder they curse at me, the more it proves how obsessed they are with this face.” Online, Serena’s fans were quoting classic literature and film theorists, elevating her to the status of a pure artist untainted by the secular world. My fans were much more straightforward. They spammed my legendary red carpet photos from over the years with the caption: “Beauty is enough. Does your fave have a face card that never declines?” A brutal war over “Talent vs. Beauty” raged across the internet, turning social media pitch black. Serena’s team was clearly thrilled with this outcome. Riding the momentum, they bought off several gossip blogs, Pushing the hashtag #TheDedicationOfAnActor to the top of the trending list, attempting to nail me to the pillar of shame. Lexi reported over the phone: “Chloe, her team is pushing the narrative again. The public opinion is turning really bad for us.” “Should we issue a statement? Maybe say something like—” “No need,” I cut her off. I had already selected the nine most flawless selfies from my camera roll. “Post this photo dump. Make the caption: Face card looking pretty good today.” “Huh? Just that?” “Just that.” A few minutes later, the hashtag #ChloeSterlingPhotoDump crushed everything in its path, parachuting straight into the number one trending spot worldwide. Unsurprisingly, the servers crashed for a solid ten minutes. By the time the tech guys got it back online, seven out of the top ten trending topics had my name on them. #ChloeSterling Flawless #GodsMasterpiece ChloeSterling #LookingAtChloeMakesMeWantPlasticSurgery As for Serena’s #TheDedicationOfAnActor hashtag? It had been pushed down past the top twenty, completely ignored. Lexi called back, her voice now brimming with ecstasy and sheer worship: “Chloe! I heard Serena’s PR director was so mad he literally smashed his phone against a wall!” I let out a soft laugh, locked my phone, and picked my mirror back up. Miss Vance, in this industry, being incredibly beautiful really does let you do whatever you want. Especially when you’re a thunderously invincible, explosive beauty like me. Public relations? I don’t need it! After all, there’s a running joke in the industry: People say watching me act makes them want to gauge their own eyes out. But then they realize if they gauge their eyes out, they won’t be able to see my face anymore. So they think, Ah, what a pity, and give up on the blinding. Coincidentally enough, Serena and I had been cast in the same movie—the $200 million summer blockbuster, Chronicles of the Wind. She was the leading lady; I was the undisputed second lead. At the press junket, the press release from her team featured her name followed by a long, glittering list of Oscar and Golden Globe titles. After my name, there were only two words: “Hollywood It-Girl.” On our first day shooting together, she ruined seventeen takes. When the director asked her what was wrong, she massaged her temples, looking at me with an expression of profound agony: “Director, looking at Chloe’s face, I simply cannot get into character.” The entire set went dead silent. Her reasoning was that my face was too “modern.” My features were too exquisitely perfect, like a soulless porcelain doll, Destroying the gritty, broken, historical aesthetic required for the film. When she said this, her eyes were cold and aloof, As if she were discussing some profoundly complex artistic dilemma. Over the next few days, this became her standard operating procedure. Whenever we shared a scene, she would inevitably cause endless outtakes. Either she would claim she got “distracted” by my face while delivering her lines, Or she would yell “Cut!” halfway through a scene, claiming my beauty was “pulling her out of the illusion.” While I outwardly cooed, “Oh my gosh, I’m really not that pretty~”, Internally, I was cursing this dramatic bitch out. She was deliberately messing with me. After the production schedule was severely delayed, the producer and director finally started looking grim. They cast displeased glances my way, though their expressions would inevitably soften the moment they actually looked at my face. My assistant Lexi stomped her feet in anger: “Chloe, she’s doing it on purpose!” “What kind of actor complains that their co-star is too pretty? She’s abusing her power for a personal vendetta!” I was flipping through the script. I didn’t even look up: “Let her act.” Lexi was confused: “Act like what?” “Act like a dedicated, artistic Oscar winner whose pursuit of perfection is being dragged down by a talentless plastic vase.” Sure enough, a couple of days later, “leaked” behind-the-scenes footage flooded the internet. The hashtag #SerenaVanceDedicated Professional trended at number one. The gossip blogs praised her for striving for artistic perfection, Saying she was even willing to offend a massively bankable influencer backed by big studios just to protect the film’s integrity. And me? Naturally, I became the villain—the “pretty face committing crimes,” the “talentless dead weight dragging down the whole crew.” Eventually, the director asked to speak with me. The meeting took place inside Serena’s luxury trailer. Serena was there, along with her junior from Julliard who had just graduated. The director rubbed his hands together, looking incredibly awkward: “Chloe, look… Serena’s state of mind really isn’t great right now.” “For the sake of the artistic vision of the entire film, we’ve had a discussion…” Serena sat to the side, slowly sipping artisanal pour-over coffee, not even lifting an eyelid. I looked at the director, waiting for his punchline. “The second lead role originally given to you… we might need to recast it.” “We’d like to let Serena’s junior try it out. They trained at the same conservatory, so they might have better chemistry.” Lexi was ready to explode on the spot, but I pressed her back down with a single look. Of course, I knew this was a targeted hit against me. I quietly glanced at the Julliard junior’s face. She was pretty enough, a sort of girl-next-door type. But most importantly… she definitely wouldn’t overshadow Serena. Instead, she would act as a perfect, bland foil to make Serena’s leading-lady aura shine even brighter. I tucked away my thoughts and asked plainly: “And what about me?” “The production still wants you to stay,” the director said, lowering his posture even more. “There’s a role for a maid in the mansion. The screen time isn’t huge, but it has some real highlights.” “There’s a pivotal scene where the female lead slaps the maid across the face. It’s a great test of emotional explosiveness…” The intent to humiliate me was now laid bare on the table. Everyone stared at me, waiting for me to throw a diva fit, waiting for me to tear up my contract and storm out. Then, they could smoothly slap a “toxic diva” label on my head and feed me to the press. Serena finally set down her coffee cup, a faint, almost imperceptible smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. I ignored her and simply looked at the director, my voice perfectly calm: “Fine. I’ll take it.” The air inside the trailer seemed to freeze in that exact instant. The director was stunned. The Julliard junior’s expression stiffened. Even the smugness on Serena’s face showed a tiny, visible crack. On the day we shot the slapping scene, the entire crew was present. They weren’t there to watch a movie scene; they were there to watch me. The director yelled, “Action!” Serena swung her hand and slapped me across the face. No camera tricks. No stunt coordination. Just solid flesh violently colliding with flesh. It was crisp, loud, and burned like fire. “Cut!” The director’s voice carried a hint of hesitation. “Serena, the emotion was great, but… you can pull back on the physical force a little.” Serena rubbed her wrist, looking at me with wide, innocent eyes: “Director, in order to pursue absolute realism, the instant reaction to being hit can’t be faked.” “What do you think, Chloe?” She tossed the grenade right into my lap. Every eye on set locked onto my face, waiting for my reaction. My assistant Lexi clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, her eyes welling with tears. I raised a hand, signaling her to stay back. I smiled at the director: “Serena is right. For the sake of the film’s effect, it’s fine. Let’s do it again.” And so, there was a second take. A third. A fourth… Every single time, Serena demanded a retake, claiming her “emotions weren’t quite there” or my “reaction wasn’t realistic enough.” And every single time, her slap was harder than the last. By the eighth take, I could taste the metallic tang of blood seeping from the corner of my mouth. My left cheek was completely numb, swollen high and red, feeling like I was holding a scalding hot stone in my mouth. “Moving on!” The director finally called it. Lexi immediately rushed over, holding an ice pack to my face. Her voice cracked with tears: “Chloe, they’re crossing the line! This is bullying!” I stopped her, turned to the makeup artist nearby, and said calmly: “Please touch up my makeup. Conceal the blood at the corner of my mouth.” Then, I turned back to the director, maintaining that exact same, unbothered demeanor: “Director, was the effect to your liking?” The director looked at my swollen face, his eyes full of complex guilt. In the end, he just nodded. Word of this incident leaked immediately. The internet was blanketed with PR articles praising Serena’s dedication to her craft, saying she was willing to offend anyone for the sake of cinematic realism. And me? I became the useless hack who was so untalented she couldn’t even act out getting slapped correctly. My public favorability plummeted to rock bottom. My management team was running around with their hair on fire, but I didn’t have time to care about any of that. Because the global ambassador contract for the international luxury house V&L was in its final stages of negotiation. This was my ultimate weapon for a counterattack. As long as the official announcement dropped, it would prove that my commercial value was unshakeable. But the night before the signing, Lexi burst into my hotel room, her face pale as a sheet. “Chloe, V&L just made the official announcement… The ambassador isn’t us.” My hand, which was in the middle of removing my makeup, paused. “It’s Serena.” Lexi’s voice was shaking. “I asked around. Yesterday, she personally flew her team to V&L’s global headquarters in Paris.” “She told the brand that she was willing to sign an iron-clad five-year contract for absolutely zero compensation.” An Academy Award-winning actress, lowering her quote to literally zero dollars. No corporate brand could resist a temptation like that. She didn’t do it for the money. She didn’t even do it for the endorsement itself. She did it purely to snatch it out of my hands. Overnight, the internet threw a massive party celebrating my downfall. “Hahaha, a vase is just a vase in the end. Her commercial value just got steamrolled by actual talent.” “Even her corporate sugar daddies abandoned her. Looks like Chloe Sterling’s career is finally over.” “She used to rely on her face to eat, but now her face is swollen from slaps, and her rice bowl has been smashed.” The hashtag #TheVaseIsBroken rocketed to the number one trending spot in less than an hour. Lexi looked at the vicious comments flooding her phone, pacing in circles in a panic: “Chloe, what do we do now? The PR department’s phones are blowing up!” I looked at my swollen face in the mirror. The five finger marks were still clearly visible. My phone screen lit up with a breaking news push notification. Star-Studded Lineup: Nominees for the Annual Hollywood Icon Awards Announced. I tapped it. Under the category for “Most Commercially Valuable Artist of the Year,” I saw two names listed side-by-side: Chloe Sterling, Serena Vance.

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At the start of the new semester, my homeroom teacher mandated that every single parent had to come to the school for “Classroom Beautification Day” to clean and prep the rooms. I went to him privately and explained, “Mr. Harrison, my parents have a highly classified work situation. They can’t make it.” Mr. Harrison slammed his lesson planner onto his desk, his eyes flashing with anger. “Everyone else’s parents can make it, but yours can’t? On your emergency contact form, their occupations are listed as ‘Classified,’ and now they can’t even show up? It seems to me you just have zero respect for my authority!” “If your parents don’t show up, you don’t need to show up either. My class doesn’t accept students like you!” I stood there, stunned. But a classified federal agency isn’t exactly a place you can just clock out of whenever you want! Little did he know, when my parents did finally show up, Mr. Harrison wouldn’t be able to stay in his seat. Mr. Harrison marched into the classroom, his face as dark as a thundercloud, and slammed his books onto the podium. “For the new semester, I asked all parents to come and help clean the classroom. Only one student’s parents failed to show. What, is pushing a broom beneath you? Or do you think getting good grades means your family is too good for manual labor?” His voice rose sharply. “Let me make one thing clear. In my classroom, the attitude your parents show me dictates exactly how I will treat you.” Parent participation for Beautification Day was supposed to be strictly strictly voluntary. But Mr. Harrison was a narcissist who cared entirely about optics. To him, the more parents he commanded, the better he looked to the administration. “Leo Carter,” he barked, calling me out directly. I stood up. “What exactly do your parents do for a living? Are they street sweepers? Do they guard a parking lot? They must have a shift that ends eventually, right?” He crossed his arms, mocking me. A few students snickered. “They…” I paused. “Their agency is highly secure. They can’t just leave.” “What agency? Let’s hear it.” “I can’t say.” The classroom fell dead silent for a second. Mr. Harrison turned red with fury. “You can’t say? Or are you too ashamed to say it?!” “Playing passive-aggressive games with your teacher on the first week of school? You think I can’t handle a kid like you?” “Mr. Harrison, I’m not,” I quickly explained. “It’s genuinely classified…” His face turned a furious shade of purple. He slammed his hand on the desk. “I’ve been teaching for years, you think I haven’t seen every type of parent? I’m calling them right now! I’ll ask them myself! And if they don’t give me a good reason, you will stand at the back of this classroom for the rest of the year!” Without hesitating, he pulled out his cell phone, dialed the emergency number I had provided, and deliberately put it on speakerphone. A sterile, automated voice echoed through the classroom: “We’re sorry. The number you have dialed is an unallocated federal line. Please check the number and try again.” The entire classroom erupted into roaring laughter. Mr. Harrison hung up the phone, his chest heaving. He felt like he had been played and publicly humiliated. “Leo Carter,” he gritted out through his teeth. “You think this is a game?” “No, sir, they really are—” “Shut your mouth!” He pointed a finger right at my nose. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You’ve been lying from the start! There is no classified agency! You just didn’t want your parents to come, and you’re intentionally defying me!” The more he spoke, the angrier he got. “Since your parents won’t come to my school, you don’t need to attend my class. Get out. Now!” I tried one last time. “Mr. Harrison, I told you, their line is secure. Not just anyone can dial in.” He was trembling with rage. “Get the hell out of my classroom!” I sighed, accepted my fate, and walked out into the hallway. Mr. Harrison was notoriously petty. Once, a student accidentally brought the wrong textbook to class, and Harrison publicly berated him for a full forty-five minutes. If I didn’t get this sorted out, he would make the rest of my high school life a living hell. I pulled out my encrypted phone and sent a message to the group chat with my parents: [My homeroom teacher, Mr. Harrison, has a misunderstanding because you guys couldn’t make it to the classroom cleanup. Could you possibly explain it to him?] A moment later, my mom replied: [Understood. The situation has been flagged to our superiors. Personnel will be dispatched to handle it.] I stood in the hallway for the entire class period, my legs aching. When the bell finally rang, I headed to the teachers’ lounge to try and explain myself again. But right outside the door, I heard Mr. Harrison’s voice. “That Leo Carter is a cancer in my classroom! His parents skip the cleanup, their jobs are ‘classified,’ and their phone number is disconnected! What does that tell you? He’s openly defrauding the school! He comes from a family of trash!” My heart sank. Another teacher spoke up: “Come on, maybe there’s a real reason. He’s usually a very well-behaved kid.” Harrison scoffed, his voice rising. “Well-behaved? I’ve seen a million kids like him. Who cares if his grades are good? His character is rotten, and he’ll end up being the scum of society! His parents are probably fugitives on the run, that’s why he’s covering for them!” I couldn’t take it anymore. I shoved the door open. Failing to explain my situation was on me, but as a teacher, what right did he have to slander my family? Every teacher in the room turned to look at me. I stared straight at him. “Mr. Harrison, you can question me all you want, but you have no right to insult my parents! You have zero proof. How dare you call them fugitives!” Mr. Harrison pointed at me, his face livid. “Excuse me?! Eavesdropping on teachers and barging in to talk back? Did I say something wrong? You have zero respect or upbringing!” “My upbringing taught me to seek the truth and follow the rules!” I stepped forward, holding his gaze. “I’m telling you the truth. As for my parents’ exact jobs, you don’t have the clearance to know!” “You little punk!” Harrison trembled with rage. He grabbed a heavy grading binder from his desk and hurled it right at my head. I dodged it just in time. He roared, “Get out! You are permanently banned from my class! Get out!” I pressed my lips together and turned away. Behind me, he bellowed, “Look at that attitude! He’s a lost cause! I’ll teach him a lesson he won’t forget!” Back at my desk in the classroom, a few students were grouped together, whispering and shooting me dirty looks. “Mr. Harrison said his parents are literal fugitives!” “We better stay away from him.” My hand froze on the page of my book. The class president stood up and clapped his hands. “Alright everyone, pass up your winter break assignments.” I reached into my backpack and pulled out my completed packet, ready to pass it forward. Suddenly, Mr. Harrison marched straight down the aisle toward me. In front of the entire class, he snatched the stack of assignments out of my hand, turned around, and dumped them straight into the trash can. The room went dead silent. The blood rushed to my head. “Mr. Harrison!” “What?” He turned back to look at me. “You keep challenging my authority. Since I clearly can’t manage you, I won’t be accepting any more of your assignments.” He walked to the podium, grabbed a stack of practice exams, and handed them to the class president. “These are the weekly exams. Hand them out.” He shot me a venomous look. “Oh, and skip Leo Carter. He doesn’t get one.” “In fact, I’ve already spoken to all your other teachers. From now on, Leo doesn’t need to turn in any homework. Even if he does, it goes straight to the trash. We will not be grading his work.” I felt ice cold. Just because my parents couldn’t come to mop a floor? I was being treated like a pariah? The bell for the next period rang. Harrison pointed to the door. “My class is starting. Get out.” I gritted my teeth, turned on my heel, and marched straight to the Vice Principal’s office. I told Vice Principal Davis everything. “Because my parents couldn’t come to clean, Mr. Harrison told the other teachers my parents were fugitives, and now the whole class thinks so. He threw my homework in the trash, refused to give me my exams, and told the other teachers to fail me. I need you to step in.” Vice Principal Davis listened, tapping her pen, and fell silent for a moment. “Leo,” she said, her voice stern but measured. “I hear what you’re saying. I know Mr. Harrison well. He can be a bit hot-headed, but his heart is in the right place.” She offered me a warm, reassuring smile. “Tell you what. I’ll get on the PA system in a few minutes. I’ll make an announcement to clear up your parents’ situation so the teachers and students don’t misunderstand. How does that sound?” My eyes instantly welled up with tears of relief. “Thank you, Vice Principal Davis! Thank you so much!” “Go on, head back,” she waved me off gently. I bowed slightly out of respect and left the office. Standing in the hallway, I let out a massive sigh of relief. The PA system was going to chime any second. Once she cleared this up, I could go back to learning like a normal student. I stood in the corridor outside my classroom. Inside, Mr. Harrison was teaching. The speakers crackled to life. I stood up straight. “Attention all students and staff,” Vice Principal Davis’s voice echoed through the halls. “Please listen to the following disciplinary announcement.” I took a deep breath. “Regarding the disciplinary action for sophomore Leo Carter.” “Following an investigation, this student has been found guilty of falsifying parental information, defying his homeroom teacher, and refusing to participate in class activities. Despite multiple warnings from his teacher, he showed no remorse, and today, he skipped class without permission, disrupting the educational environment. His behavior is a severe violation of the school’s code of conduct.” “The administration has decided to place Leo Carter on final disciplinary probation. Let this be a warning to all students to respect your teachers. That is all.” I stood there, feeling like I had been struck by lightning. My mind went entirely blank. Through the classroom window, I saw Mr. Harrison looking right at me, a smug, mocking smirk plastered across his face. I turned and sprinted down the hall, kicking the door to the Vice Principal’s office wide open. Davis was calmly sipping her coffee. She frowned deeply. “What is wrong with you? Do you not know how to knock?” “Why did you lie to me?!” I panted, my voice shaking. “You promised you would clear my name! Why did you put me on probation?!” She stood up, slamming her mug down. “Listen to me, Leo Carter! Stop throwing a tantrum in my office. Your punishment is final!” Right then, Mr. Harrison stormed into the office, his eyes blazing with fury. “You’ve got some nerve, Leo! Coming to harass the Vice Principal!” He crossed the room in three massive strides, raised his hand, and slapped me hard across the face. My cheek exploded in burning pain, and I stumbled backward, my ears ringing. “You little punk!” Harrison pointed right at my nose. “Going to the Principal won’t save you! I run that classroom! You messed with the wrong guy today!” “Calm down, cousin,” Vice Principal Davis said casually from her desk. I held my burning cheek, staring at them in pure disbelief. No wonder Harrison was so untouchable. The Vice Principal was his cousin. She had his back the whole time. My phone vibrated in my pocket. A text from my mom: [Son, we are pulling up to your school in ten minutes.] Harrison’s face darkened. He lunged forward and smacked the phone out of my hand. “Trying to call the cops? Dream on! I’m going to educate you on behalf of your fugitive parents right now!” I clenched my fists. The blood rushed to my head. The burning on my cheek, the heat in my eyes—it all mixed into an indescribable rage. But my parents were almost here. I wanted to see how arrogant he would be when they arrived. I let out a cold laugh. “Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Harrison?” Harrison scoffed loudly. “Security! Get in here!” Two campus security guards rushed into the office. Harrison pointed at me, feigning outrage. “This student violated school rules and physically attacked me!” “Look at the red mark on my face! He’s completely out of control. Restrain him!” I looked at Harrison’s perfectly smooth, unblemished face and almost laughed out of pure anger. The gaslighting was unbelievable. The guards rushed me. One grabbed my left arm, the other my right, pinning me in place so I couldn’t move. I struggled with everything I had, but I couldn’t break free from two grown men. Mr. Harrison stood right in front of me, looking down at me like I was dirt. “Since your parents won’t discipline you, I’ll do it for them. I’ll teach you what it means to respect your superiors!” “Get on your knees right now and beg for forgiveness!” “I didn’t do anything wrong!” I yelled, fighting against the guards’ grip. “I’m not kneeling!” The guards pressed down hard on my shoulders, making my joints scream in pain. I twisted my body, planting my feet firmly. “Hold him down!” Vice Principal Davis barked, stepping up behind me and kicking me hard in the back of the knees. My legs gave out, and my knees slammed onto the hard floor. Harrison crouched in front of me, pulling out his phone and aiming the camera right at my face. “Look up. Let everyone see the face of the kid who attacks teachers.” “Say it. Say your parents are fugitives.” I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood, refusing to speak. He stood up, shoving his phone into the hands of one of the guards. “Hold this. Make sure it’s in focus.” The guard took the phone, keeping the lens locked on me. Harrison walked behind me and kicked me squarely in the back. I pitched forward, catching myself on my hands. My palms scraped painfully against the floor. “Not going to talk?” His voice echoed from above me. “Fine. Let’s see how tough you really are.” He leaned down, grabbed a fistful of my hair, and yanked my head back violently. My scalp burned like it was tearing apart. “Look at the camera. Admit your parents are criminals. Say it,” Harrison commanded. Tears of pain rolled down my cheeks, but I clenched my jaw shut. My silence pushed him over the edge. He reached out and snatched the stun gun off the security guard’s utility belt. My blood ran cold. “Harrison!” I screamed. “That’s illegal! You have no right to be a teacher!” He pressed the metal prongs of the stun gun against my shoulder. I flinched in terror. “Now you’re scared? Are you going to say it?” “In your dreams! My parents aren’t criminals,” my voice shook, but I enunciated every word clearly. “They protect this country. A piece of trash like you isn’t even worthy of speaking about them.” His face contorted with rage. “Let’s see if your mouth stays that tough!” His thumb moved to press the trigger. BANG! The office door was kicked violently open. Several figures filled the doorway. I broke down and cried out: “Mom! Dad!”

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I touched my empty stomach, trembling uncontrollably, surrounded by the mocking laughter of his friends. “Commander Harrison Brooks, just because Audrey Sinclair said one word, you really aborted the child you had with Evelyn?!” “Haha, look at the princess, all the color drained from her face! What, are you gonna hit someone?!” Harrison merely pulled Audrey into his arms, his tone impossibly gentle. “I told you I would never have a child with her. Do you believe me now?” The ice on Audrey’s face finally melted into a sweet smile. I tried to step forward to demand an answer, but I was violently held back by my three older brothers. My eldest brother, State Senator Bennett Vance, frowned in disgust. “Audrey finally smiled. Stop acting like the grim reaper and ruining the mood.” My second brother, Oliver, Director of the National Research Institute, spat at my feet. “She suffered so much in the brutal foster system before we found her. Just give Harrison up to her! I’ll find you another guy!” My third brother, Miles, Director of the National Arts Company, practically poked his finger into my eye. “They are the ones truly in love! Were you really going to bring a child into a loveless household?! Stop committing a sin!” They dragged me back to the family estate and locked me inside, forbidding me from ruining the happiness of their precious golden girl. It was then that the System, which had been silent for years, finally spoke. “Host, detecting that the strategy mission has been completed! Would you like to return to your original world immediately?” I hung a rope over the exposed ceiling beam. My eyes were completely out of focus, but my heart was screaming with wild ecstasy. I finally didn’t have to act anymore! …… Before I was fully dead, the bedroom door was kicked open. Oliver rushed in, and his security details frantically cut me down. Oliver was absolutely furious. “When did you learn to throw these pathetic tantrums?! Crying, screaming, hanging yourself?! Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re causing this family?!” But all my attention was focused on the System’s voice in my head. “Detecting that the Vance brothers and the male lead’s affection levels reached 90%. The mission to conceive a child with the male lead, Harrison Brooks, is complete!” “Once the host’s physical body dies, you may return to your original world, receive your cash reward, and cure your cancer!” I suppressed the overwhelming joy bubbling in my chest. I could finally go home! I looked up and met Oliver’s eyes. A guard leaned in and whispered something into his ear. The fiery rage in Oliver’s eyes instantly vanished, replaced by a soft, gentle warmth like a spring breeze. Unsurprisingly. He only ever looked like that when it came to Audrey. Catching my gaze, he immediately stiffened and cleared his throat. “What? Did you think you could use death to scare Harrison?! How could you be so malicious?!” “Do you have any idea how much Audrey suffered bouncing around the foster system?! She finally found us. What’s so wrong with letting her be a little happy?!” I clenched my fists tightly, letting out a self-deprecating laugh. If “suffering” meant having three powerful men orbiting you, ready to pluck the stars from the sky if you asked for them… Then I would gladly suffer too. Perhaps seeing how ghastly pale I looked, Oliver softened his tone slightly. “Just go apologize to Harrison. Stop being so stubborn.” He reached out to pull me up, but I lightly dodged his hand. I sneered. “Why should I apologize? What exactly did I do wrong?” Oliver froze. Then, his brows knitted together in renewed anger. “Evelyn Vance! Are you really trying to push your luck?! Do you want to be sent away to a disciplinary facility?!” I closed my eyes. Even if I only did this for a mission, after so many years, I had developed real feelings for them. I had genuinely cried over their coldness before. But now, it was all over. “Once Audrey finishes her performance for the President and gets promoted to Principal Dancer, you will go and apologize to her.” I no longer held a single shred of hope for him. I simply communicated with the System in my mind. “As long as this body dies, I can go back, right?” “Yes.” I let out a slow sigh of relief. I scanned the room, looking for the fastest way to kill myself. Oliver immediately realized what I was doing and roared. “Evelyn, what twisted scheme are you plotting now?! Can’t you understand a word I say?!” I ignored him. Locking my eyes on the heavy mahogany dresser, I steeled my heart, closed my eyes, and sprinted headfirst toward the sharp corner. The wind rushed past my ears. I felt a fleeting sense of lightness. But the next second, a strong arm clamped around my waist. I was hoisted into the air by a pair of large hands. I let out a yelp before I was violently slammed onto the hardwood floor. The security guards immediately surrounded me. Furious, Oliver pushed through them and delivered a vicious kick to my side. “You’re crazy! You’re completely insane! I say one sentence to you, and you try to kill yourself?! We spoiled you too much!” I let out a muffled groan, feeling nothing but annoyance that I hadn’t died. I ignored him completely. Seeing my apathy, Oliver grew even more enraged. “Doing this just to get our attention again, right?! Put away your pathetic little tricks!” Turning a deaf ear to his screaming, I staggered to my feet and dusted off my clothes. The guards boxed me in tightly, terrified I would cause more trouble. A heavy, bizarre silence filled the room. I don’t know how long passed. But the moment I caught them looking away, I seized the opening and threw myself out the second-story window. “I jumped on my own! Don’t take your anger out on anyone else!” I shouted the words as I plummeted. “Evelyn!” Oliver screamed in absolute despair. He and the guards were a second too late. I was filled with hope, welcoming death with open arms. Even though returning to my world meant facing the agony of cancer again, I didn’t want to spend another second in this hell. But unexpectedly, I was met with a violent, piercing pain. I thought I was dead, but the agony radiating through my torso told me otherwise. I opened my eyes. I was impaled and caught in the thick branches of an oak tree just outside the window. The commotion drew the attention of all our wealthy neighbors in the gated community. They quickly gathered around. “Isn’t that the Vance family’s daughter? Why is a girl that young trying to end her life?” “Oh, please. Everyone knows how horribly the Vance family treats her in her own home… Sigh, it’s a sin!” I was stuck in the branches, unable to move. I dropped my head in defeat. “You’re insane! Evelyn, have you completely lost your mind?!” Oliver’s eyes were bloodshot. He shoved through the crowd, stumbling and falling to his knees beneath the tree. Soon, the estate’s security brought a cherry picker and carefully brought me down. Oliver immediately started checking my body. “Does it hurt anywhere?! Talk to me!” My gaze inadvertently fell on Oliver. A man who was usually obsessed with his immaculate appearance was missing a shoe, limping heavily. His right ankle was swollen to the size of a baseball. He must have twisted it rushing out of the house in a panic. If this were the past, my heart would have ached terribly. I would have demanded he go to the hospital immediately. But now, I just apathetically looked away. “What? Do I need your official permission to die, too?” Oliver froze, his face stricken with disbelief. I scoffed, walked around him, and politely thanked the security guards. “I’m sorry for causing you all so much trouble.” I also bowed to the gossiping neighbors. “Please don’t tell anyone about this. If word gets out, my eldest brother will curse me out again.” Oliver dug his fingernails into his palms. The corners of his eyes turned bright red. I frowned slightly, confused by his reaction. “Don’t worry,” I assured the neighbors. “Everyone in the compound knows each other. You won’t spread it. If you need me to, I’ll apologize door-to-door so you don’t have to bother Bennett or Oliver…” “Evelyn!” He cut me off, unable to bear it anymore. And then, to my utter shock, a flash of genuine grievance appeared on his face. “You are the only daughter of the Vance family! You’re the youngest! We three brothers want nothing more than to lift you up! Why are you speaking to us like we’re strangers?!” I couldn’t help it. I burst out laughing. “Do you even believe the words coming out of your own mouth?” He trembled, as if he had just been slapped awake. Because the one living with the Vance family, the one treated like their daughter now, was Audrey Sinclair! As for me? I had been banished to a dusty storage room at the Arts Company. I was originally supposed to live in the dorms, but because Audrey hated the sight of me, my third brother Miles expelled me from the company entirely. As an act of “charity,” he let me sleep in the storage closet. I looked at Oliver with completely dead eyes, but a deep sense of sorrow bled through. Outside of the arts company, I used to love studying biology in my spare time. Oliver was a leading expert in the field. Seeing my talent and passion, he used to love mentoring me. We would discuss scientific problems until the sun came up. But now? Now he only looked at me with cold disgust, ordering me to yield to Audrey in every single aspect of my life. Oliver lowered his head in resignation, his voice as quiet as a mosquito. “Once Audrey finishes her performance and gets promoted to Principal Dancer, you can move back home… Audrey turned your bedroom into a dance studio. This is a critical time for her career. You’ve always been so understanding. You get it, right?” “Everything that happened before… it was all just a misunderstanding…” I couldn’t be bothered to respond. I just sneered and walked away. Before I transmigrated, I was an orphan. I lived meal to meal, starving half the time. To make matters worse, after coughing up blood on the street, a kind stranger took me to the hospital, where I was diagnosed with terminal cancer. I lay in that hospital bed, slipping into a coma from the agonizing pain. When I opened my eyes again, the System had brought me to this world, placing me in the body of a nine-year-old child. That was the first time I heard the System’s voice. “Reach an 80% affection level with the three Vance brothers and the male lead, Harrison Brooks, and conceive a child with Harrison. Once complete, you may return to your modern world and your cancer will be cured!” Then, it vanished. I thought the pain had given me hallucinations. But looking down, I was indeed in the unformed body of a nine-year-old. I adjusted quickly. I had no ties in my old world, and having a healthy body here was a blessing. Now, Oliver and I sat in the grand living room of the estate. To ease the tension, he started recounting funny stories from before Audrey came to our house. I hadn’t felt that kind of warmth in almost ten years. There was a time when Oliver’s smile almost made me want to abandon the mission and stay here forever. But after I brought Audrey—a fellow orphan from my school—home out of pity, she stole all of Oliver’s favoritism. I went from angry, to acting out, to absolutely hysterical. And all it earned me was his cold reprimand: “Stop throwing a tantrum. Look at how pathetic you’re acting.” Seeing that I wasn’t responding to his stories, Oliver’s voice took on a pitiful, pleading tone. “Evelyn, I hurt my foot trying to save you. Can you please get the first-aid kit and help me…” I cut him off, my face blank. “Your security detail is standing right there. If it’s serious, call a doctor. Why are you telling me?” Suddenly, heavy, powerful footsteps echoed from the porch. I knew immediately it was Harrison. And the steady, authoritative footsteps beside him belonged to my eldest brother, Bennett. Bennett’s voice was dark and threatening. “Audrey has been so worried about you she hasn’t eaten or slept. She’s lost weight! You better treat her with respect, or don’t blame me for what happens next!” Audrey quickly stepped between everyone, playing the perfect peacemaker. “Bennett, Harrison, I’m really fine! It was all a misunderstanding. As long as we talk it out, everything is okay.” I sat on the sofa, admiring their sickeningly sweet display of sibling devotion. I rubbed my face, only to realize my cheeks were wet and freezing. I hadn’t cried in a very long time. Oliver limped over to me. He was just about to speak when the front doors swung open. Seeing Oliver’s condition, Audrey immediately rushed over. “Oliver! How did you get hurt so badly? You…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence before my fist connected squarely with her jaw, knocking her to the floor. Audrey panicked, collapsing onto the rug, looking up at me in utter shock. Almost simultaneously, a massive, bruising force clamped down on my shoulders. The pain forced me to my knees. Bennett nodded approvingly at his guards. He shot up from his chair, pointing at me furiously. “Evelyn Vance! We have spoiled you beyond repair! Apologize to Audrey!” I kneeled pathetically on the floor, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “I apologize? What exactly did I do wrong? My husband cheated on me, and I’m not allowed to hit his mistress?!” Bennett grew even more enraged, his voice turning shrill. “What kind of delusional nonsense are you spouting?! Audrey and Harrison are a couple! Have you forgotten?! You and Harrison never signed the marriage papers! You aren’t husband and wife!” “How could I have such a shameless, classless sister?! You’ve humiliated the Vance family!” I looked at him like he had just told the funniest joke in the world. “Shameless? Have you forgotten that Harrison was the one who coaxed me, saying we would sign the papers after I got pregnant?! He treated my love like garbage, and I’m the shameless one?!” Harrison stared at me with eyes like ice. “Thank God I didn’t marry you. Thank God I had the foresight. The Brooks family would never accept a wife like you!” Miles, who had just walked in, stormed over and slapped me hard across the face. “Evelyn! Apologize!” I didn’t speak. I just slowly, coldly swept my gaze over all of them. Bennett’s eyes were indifferent. Miles’s face was full of disgust. Harrison looked like he wanted me dead. Oliver frowned, his lips moving slightly, but in the end, he didn’t say a single word. Just like three years ago. Audrey had snuck into Oliver’s lab and destroyed years of his life’s work by messing with the equipment. The government demanded Oliver give them an explanation. Oliver begged me to take the fall, and pleaded with Bennett to cover it up. But Audrey intentionally leaked the scandal to the public. I was publicly disgraced and could no longer stay at the Arts Company. So Miles fired me. And my bedroom was converted into a dance studio, simply because Audrey wanted to “soak up the aura” of the former Principal Dancer. “You have security guards following you everywhere! Audrey is all alone! She lives in the house so she can communicate easily with Miles! Can’t you be a little more mature?!” I had screamed at them hysterically back then. And the way they looked at me then was exactly how they were looking at me now. Today, I couldn’t be bothered to defend myself. I grabbed the fruit knife resting on the coffee table. Oliver’s eyes widened in terror. He tried to lunge forward, but Audrey tightly locked her arms around his waist. “Evelyn, what are you doing?!” I looked at Audrey with a mocking smile. “Didn’t you want an apology?” I ignored the panic-stricken men around me. In one swift motion, I dragged the blade across my own throat. Screams erupted in the room. I was crying and laughing at the same time. “I’m paying her back with my life! Is that enough?! Are you happy now?!” Warm, thick blood violently sprayed from my neck. The dizzying wave of blood loss made my legs give out. Amidst the chaotic, indistinguishable roars, my vision went dark. The last thing I saw was the absolute, unadulterated horror on the men’s faces. Oliver broke free and caught me against his chest. “Call an ambulance!”

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I found out Arthur Sterling was keeping another woman on the side. I was much calmer than I ever imagined I would be. After tracking down her address, I headed straight for her house, fully intending to lay all my cards on the table. But when I actually stood in her living room, I froze. “This condo cost $1.65 million. Arthur paid for it in full, in cash. The deed is in my name.” The woman’s expression was perfectly serene, as if she had been expecting me for a long time. She walked into her bedroom and brought out a marriage certificate, placing it right in front of me. “We got married last month.” “So,” the woman looked at me, her eyes brimming with sheer contempt, “legally speaking, you’re the dirty little mistress who can’t see the light of day.” The marriage certificate stung my eyes. It reminded me that Arthur and I had been together for fifteen years. Fifteen years. I never got a marriage certificate, but I did end up with a label: Mistress. Chapter 1 “Chloe Davis.” The woman tapped her manicured acrylic nail against the section of the certificate that bore Arthur’s name, her tone mocking. “You have no right to be here, and you certainly have no authority to strike a pose in front of me. Understood?” She held the marriage certificate like a hard-won trophy. She stood there, looking like a flawless, expensive porcelain doll. I recognized the diamond bracelet on her wrist. It was the exact one Arthur and I had won at a charity auction last month. Arthur had told me he was going to give it to me as our fifteen-year anniversary gift. But the day before our anniversary… Arthur had come to me in a panic, telling me the bracelet had been stolen. His eyes were full of guilt—so much guilt that they were red-rimmed and teary as he spoke. “Honey, I promise I’ll give you something even better.” He gently rubbed the calluses on my palms, his tears falling out of sheer heartbreak. “I’ve made you suffer so much over the years building this life with me. Once the company’s IPO goes through, let’s get married, okay?” “Chloe,” Arthur had hugged me tightly. “I want to marry you. I want us to have a real family.” And I had actually believed him. I thought Arthur and I were finally reaching the finish line. I thought that after all the years of grinding from absolutely nothing to immense wealth, I had handed in a satisfactory answer sheet for my life, and we would just live peacefully from then on. But now. I stared at the crushed diamonds on her bracelet. They sparkled brilliantly, like tiny, invisible needles piercing straight into my heart, hurting so much I could barely stand. Yet, I fought to maintain my dignity. “And so?” I snatched the marriage certificate from her hand. I looked at the bride’s name: Mia Harper. I met her perfectly made-up face and her visibly stunned expression, and I smiled. “Are you trying to tell me that after fifteen years with Arthur, it’s time for me to step down so you can enjoy the high life?” “Mia,” I rubbed my thumb over her photo on the document and smirked. “What makes you think I would just hand over the empire I bled to build?” I watched Mia panic. She lunged at me to snatch the certificate back, but I sidestepped her. Losing her balance, she crashed into a display cabinet and let out a sharp scream. “Chloe Davis!” “Are you insane?!” I watched Mia finally rip off her elegant mask and scream at me. “Are you trying to ruin my relationship with Arthur?! Are you going to be a shameless homewrecker?!” “Chloe!” “Have you no shame?!” Before Mia could lunge at me for a physical fight… I calmly pulled out my phone, snapped a crystal-clear photo of the marriage certificate, and immediately texted it to Arthur. “Arthur.” “I heard you got married.” “Why wasn’t I invited to the reception?” “Chloe!” “Honey!” The call connected instantly. Arthur’s frantic voice echoed through the living room. “I can explain!” “It’s all a massive misunderstanding!” “Chloe!” I heard a commotion on Arthur’s end, followed by the sound of a car door slamming. “I’m coming over right now.” “Don’t do anything rash.” “Just wait until I get there, we’ll talk!” While Arthur was still rambling… Mia, consumed by rage, screamed into the phone like a lunatic. “Arthur Sterling! Whose husband are you?! Who the hell are you protecting?!” Mia’s hysterical screams bounced off the walls. I took another look around the condo. The decor was warm and luxurious—blush pink silk drapes, a cream-colored cloud sofa, an entire wall dedicated to designer blind-box figurines. There were even cute couple’s magnets on the smart fridge. The plush blue cartoon slippers by the shoe rack perfectly matched the pink ones on Mia’s feet. Even the pristine white walls were covered in framed photos of Mia, mixed with several shots of Arthur’s back. It was obvious. Whoever decorated this place poured their entire heart into it. A $1.65 million condo. Paid in cash. In Mia’s name. A $3 million diamond bracelet. That was supposed to be my anniversary gift. Plus the authentic silk robe she was wearing, the expensive custom manicure on her fingers, the artisanal tea set resting on the coffee table, the premium tea leaves… not a single thing in this room was cheap. Every single item reeked of elite wealth. Every single item. I looked down at my own bare nails, devoid of any polish or decoration. I looked at my palms, rough with calluses from years of hard labor. I looked at my outfit—my clothes and shoes combined cost less than a hundred dollars. Suddenly, I found it all incredibly hilarious. So hilarious that I actually laughed out loud. “Arthur.” I cut him off mid-sentence. “Since you’re already married,” I took one last glance at the certificate clutched in Mia’s hands, “then we have absolutely nothing left to talk about.” I didn’t wait for Arthur. I didn’t need to hear his explanations. All I knew was that the fifteen years of blood, sweat, and tears I had given him were reduced to a monumental joke. And Arthur was the one who made me the biggest clown in it. Sitting in my best friend’s law firm, I dropped the photo of the marriage certificate on her desk and relayed everything I had just witnessed. Then, I asked her one question. “In a situation like this.” “What are my odds?” My voice was terrifyingly calm, as if discussing the weather. “Arthur and I built the company from scratch. Our equity is split down the middle. All our assets are shared and transparent. But Mia is the wildcard.” I tapped my knuckles against the mahogany desk, thinking of the $3 million bracelet and the $1.65 million condo. “I refuse to let anyone off easy.” “Stepping on my flesh and blood to sit back and enjoy the spoils? There is no such thing as a free lunch in this world, and I refuse to accept that logic!” I looked my best friend, Riley, dead in the eye. “I want them to pay.” “But,” Riley sighed, fighting her own anger to maintain her professional stance, “your company is at a critical stage for the IPO. If a massive scandal breaks now—” “I don’t care.” “Then that’s all I need to hear!” Riley patted her chest confidently. “I will fight this for you until the bitter end.” Walking out of the bank, I sat in my car, staring at dozens of pages of bank statements. The amounts Arthur had transferred to Mia ranged from tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands of dollars. And next to every single transaction was a memo: [Voluntary Gift]. It felt like my chest was caving in. A suffocating grip seized my throat, and my eyes burned with hot tears. I remembered a time when I had envied other women for having beautiful manicures and dressing up. Wanting to feel like a normal girl, I had booked a salon appointment, gotten my nails done, and gone home, purposely flashing my pretty hands in front of Arthur, waiting for a compliment. Instead… Arthur had met my hopeful gaze with a chilling coldness. “Chloe.” “I know our lives are getting a little better now.” Arthur grabbed my hands, looking at my nails and shaking his head in disapproval. “But the scariest thing a person can do is forget their roots.” “We can’t just start throwing money away just because we have a little extra, right?” “What if times get tough again? How will you cope?” “Honey,” Arthur had pulled me into his arms. “I prefer you when you’re simple and unadorned.” My heart full of hope shattered into bubbles. Arthur’s words were like a bucket of ice water over my head. I froze, forgetting to even react, as I watched him ruthlessly pick off the rhinestones from my freshly done nails. “Flashy, useless things. What’s the point?” Yeah. Flashy, useless things. What’s the point? Yet, Mia was draped in those flashy, useless things, dressed up like a perfect porcelain doll from an entirely different universe. The cruelest irony was that every single cent used to dress Mia up was paid for by the blood and sweat I had shed over the years. Why should she get it? The tears fell despite my best efforts. I wiped them away aggressively, staring at Arthur’s relentless incoming calls, and finally swiped to answer. “Chloe?!” “You finally picked up!” “Thank God!” Arthur’s frantic voice blasted through the speaker. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you! Where are you? Whatever it is, let’s talk face-to-face, okay?!” “Chloe, we’ve been together for fifteen years! Not fifteen days! You can’t just hide from me—” “Arthur.” I forced down the lump of acid in my throat, keeping my voice level. “Let’s meet.” I gave him the location. “At the old Northside apartment. We’ll meet there.” There was a clear pause on his end. Silence for a few seconds. “Okay.” “Honey, I’m heading there right now.” Arthur sounded relieved, almost thrilled. “I’ll stop by and grab those soup dumplings you love so much and bring them over!” Before I could decline, Arthur hung up. I turned to meet Riley’s worried gaze. “I’m fine.” I forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me.” It had been almost five years since Arthur and I moved out of that old Northside apartment. Staring at the chipped, peeling paint on the front door, I remembered how we had poured our hearts into decorating this place after finally upgrading from a windowless basement. Arthur had said back then, “Honey, this is our very first real apartment. It means everything!” “When we get old, if you want, we can retire here!” “Let’s come back and stay here for a few days every year, okay?” Back then, my heart was so full of joy. I thought my life was perfectly complete. Now, only a few years later. Everything had turned to ash. I pushed the door open. Arthur jumped up from the sofa. “Honey!” Looking like a child seeking praise, he held up the bag of hot soup dumplings and offered them to me. “They’re still warm.” In the past, I used to say how much I loved these dumplings, and how I loved that Arthur would wake up before dawn to wait in line for them. Later on, whenever I mentioned the dumplings… Arthur only had dismissive excuses. “Chloe, time is money. Do you really think I have the luxury of standing in an hour-long line just to buy you breakfast?” Now, the dumplings were right in front of me again, but somehow, they completely lost their appeal. “Arthur.” I ignored his desperate fawning, walked past him, and sat on the old couch. The worn-out springs groaned under my weight—nothing compared to Mia’s cloud sofa. “Do you remember this couch?” I looked up at him. “You and I went to the flea market and hunted for two days to find it.” “Because we were too cheap to pay for delivery,” I recounted the memory like it was just a mundane Tuesday, “you borrowed a flatbed cart, and I held the armrest to keep it steady. In the middle of summer, in hundred-degree heat, we walked for two and a half hours to drag it home.” “Back then, you said even if we became billionaires, we would never replace this couch.” “Because it was the ultimate proof of our love.” Arthur’s eyes darted around, unable to meet my gaze. I casually picked up the TV remote from the coffee table. It was wrapped in a layer of duct tape. Arthur had drunkenly dropped it once and shattered the back; I couldn’t bear to spend money on a new one, so I taped it together. I rubbed my thumb over the duct tape. “But the truth is, people change, and everything fades, doesn’t it?” “No!” Arthur rushed forward, dropping to his knees. “That’s not how it is!” His eyes turned red. Just like always, whenever he was desperate, he would cry. “Mia was just an accident! I don’t love her! I swear to God!” Arthur knelt before me, reaching out to grab my hands, but I shifted sideways to dodge him. I watched the flash of hurt in his eyes as he continued. “There was a business dinner, I drank too much, and I have no idea how Mia ended up in my hotel room! When I woke up, I was terrified! I’m not lying to you!” His tears spilled over. “I was so scared you’d find out, that you’d break up with me, that you’d hate me! I didn’t know how to face you! So I—” “How long?” “What?” “How long,” my voice remained chillingly flat, “have you been with Mia?” Arthur suddenly fell dead silent. He stared into my eyes for a long time before choking out the words. “Three and a half years.” I remembered Arthur promising we would come back and stay here for a few days every year. But as time went on, Arthur was always “too busy.” Turns out, he wasn’t too busy. He was just spending all his free time on someone else. A sharp, stabbing pain twisted in my chest. Then, Arthur offered his ultimate defense. “I wanted to break up with her! But she clung to me, crying about how poor her family was, how her parents favored her brothers and abused her… I just felt sorry for her…” Arthur’s voice trailed off. He lacked the courage to say the final sentence out loud. “Mia… got pregnant.” It felt like a bomb detonated right next to my ear. I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Even though I had already deduced the truth before I got here, hearing it from his mouth still sent ice-cold chills down my spine. While I was eagerly waiting for our wedding… Arthur had already given someone else his name, turning me into the outsider. And now, I had to listen to Arthur say: “I thought… since you’re getting older, having a baby would take a toll on your body…” Getting older. Take a toll on my body. What an absolute joke. “So,” Arthur looked up at me, “I figured letting her have the baby was actually for your own good.” For my own good. My nails pierced my skin, but I couldn’t feel the pain. “As long as you forgive me! I’ll agree to anything you want!” “Really?” I forced down the volcanic rage boiling in my chest and locked eyes with him. “Really!” I suddenly smiled. I stood up from the creaky couch, walked over to the front door, and pulled it wide open. I stared at the person standing outside, my smile growing even wider. “So, did you catch all that?” “Who’s the mistress now?” I looked at Mia’s horrified face, then pulled out my phone, which was on an active video call with Riley. “Don’t bother editing this video. Send it directly to the media, word for word!” “I don’t care how much money you have to burn, I want this to be the biggest scandal of the year!” Before I could finish. Someone grabbed my wrist and yanked me backward. I met Arthur’s furious, panic-stricken eyes and laughed. “Arthur.” “You made your bed.” “Did you really think you could walk away clean?” “How do you like these consequences?”

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I was in the middle of something when I happened to glance at my husband’s phone and saw a text message pop up. [Dear Sunshine Academy Parents! Please remember to bring your little ones to the school’s opening ceremony on time tomorrow morning. Don’t be late!] I froze. My husband and I had been married for five years, and we didn’t have any children. Why on earth was he receiving a message like this? I initially thought it was just a wrong number. But a second later, another notification popped up. [Leo’s Dad, the children are going to absolutely love the million-dollar playground you donated!] [Also, the academy has prepared a grand thank-you presentation for you and Mrs. Sterling. Feel free to arrive a little early tomorrow! ~] Leo. Wasn’t that the name of my husband’s secretary’s son? I took a deep breath and quietly put the phone back exactly where I found it. Then, I sent a quick text to my assistant: [Pick me up tomorrow morning. We’re going to Sunshine Academy.] … A few minutes later, Arthur Sterling walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He picked up his phone, checked the screen, and a subtle, almost imperceptible smirk touched the corners of his mouth. Right after, his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Instead of answering, he started getting dressed and turned to me. “Honey, there’s a minor emergency at the company I need to handle. Don’t wait up for me tonight.” I pretended I hadn’t seen a thing. I nodded and walked him to the front door. But the moment he left, I pulled out my phone and opened the GPS tracking app for his car. That limited-edition Rolls-Royce was the five-year anniversary gift I had given him a week early. I didn’t expect him to use it to drive straight to his mistress this fast. Half an hour later, I followed the GPS signal to the most exclusive, ultra-luxury gated community in the city. I watched as Arthur smoothly pulled the car into the driveway of a massive mansion. Almost immediately, his secretary, Mia, ran out the front door. She threw herself into Arthur’s arms, whining playfully. “Arthur, I specifically dropped Leo off at my mom’s house today. Why are you so late?” My breath hitched in my throat. It really was her. Suddenly, I heard the voices of a few neighbors taking an evening stroll nearby. “That young couple is so in love. They’re so loud every night.” “I know, right? Once I even saw them doing it in their private pool…” “Well, that mansion cost thirty million dollars. Rumor has it the guy paid cash and put the deed entirely in his wife’s name. Don’t be jealous of young love.” I couldn’t help but let out a bitter, hollow laugh. The truth was, six months ago, I had found a real estate brochure for this exact neighborhood in Arthur’s briefcase. Back then, I was stupidly thrilled, thinking he was planning to surprise me with a new home for our anniversary. I never imagined he was actually buying it for Mia. Before I could fully process the sting, Arthur’s doting voice drifted over. “Did I not feed you enough in my office this morning? You’re that impatient?” Mia playfully slapped his chest. “I bet Mrs. Sterling keeps you on a tight leash, doesn’t she?” Arthur scooped her up into his arms effortlessly. “What Mrs. Sterling? You are my Mrs. Sterling.” “Besides, how could she ever compare to you?” What? Even though I had braced myself, hearing him say those words out loud still made my heart cramp with pain. When Arthur first met me, he was a broke kid with absolutely nothing to his name. My dad was fiercely against our relationship. To stay with Arthur, I eventually caved and agreed to my dad marrying his new girlfriend, Sarah. Only after I accepted Sarah as my stepmother did my dad finally stop opposing our marriage. Because of that compromise, I felt so guilty that I knelt in front of my biological mother’s headstone for three days and three nights, begging for her forgiveness. And this… this betrayal and humiliation was what I got in return. I bit my lip, pulled out my phone, took several clear photos of the mansion, and sent them directly to my private investigator and my lawyer. If I had the power to turn Arthur Sterling into a rising star in the business world, I certainly had the power to strip him of absolutely everything. Once that was done, I dialed Arthur’s number. It rang for a long time before he finally answered. His tone was laced with impatience. “Honey, didn’t I tell you there was an emergency at the office? Why are you calling me?” “Oh, right, how could I forget you’re at the office,” I said softly. “I just wanted to let you know that my dad is on his way to your office right now. He said he wanted to drop by and see you since he was in the area.” There was a dead silence on the other end, followed by the sound of frantic rustling. “Dad is coming?! Okay, I’ll get ready.” He hung up immediately. I let out a cold laugh. I looked up and watched him sprint out of the mansion, his shirt half-unbuttoned and his tie askew. Mia stood at the doorway, her eyes red, looking incredibly reluctant to let him go. I smirked. Why would my dad randomly drop by his office at this hour? I was just messing with him. But so what? I just couldn’t stand seeing them happy. After Arthur drove off, I walked up and knocked on Mia’s door. Thinking Arthur had come back, she threw the door open and lunged forward playfully. “Arthur! I knew you couldn’t bear to leave me!” But the moment she saw it was me, she froze solid. She stumbled backward in a panic. “Mrs. Sterling… no, please don’t misunderstand!” “What I just said was… no, it’s not what you think…” I looked at her, my face twisting with instinctive disgust. “All the ambition of a thief, but none of the guts?” “Secretary Mia, if you’re this pathetic, what am I supposed to do with you?” She wavered for a second, then finally straightened her posture and stared at me. She let out a laugh. “Mrs. Sterling, if you already know everything, why are you here asking questions?” “Don’t you think you look completely pathetic right now?” I raised an eyebrow. I didn’t expect her to have the nerve to talk back to me. “Pathetic? What’s pathetic about me?” Mia lifted her chin. There wasn’t a shred of guilt in her eyes; instead, they were filled with contempt. “You know Arthur doesn’t love you, yet you refuse to let go.” “Do you really think you can buy a man’s heart with money?” She seemed to gain confidence as she spoke, her voice rising. “Arthur has been sick of you for a long time! Otherwise, why do you think he hasn’t let you get pregnant in five years?!” “Heh, you don’t even know, do you? To make sure you never had a baby, he’s been secretly slipping birth control into your drinks every single day!” “If I were you, I would have packed up and left a long time ago!” I listened quietly, not interrupting her. Actually, I found it a little amusing. I crossed my arms, looking past her to take in the sprawling mansion, and then raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face. “So what if you gave him a child?” “As long as he hasn’t divorced me, you and your son are nothing but a dirty mistress and an illegitimate bastard who can never see the light of day!” “And this house behind you? It was bought with my money!” “If anyone is packing up and leaving, it’s going to be you!” “You!” Her head snapped to the side from the force of the slap. She looked at me in absolute shock. “You! You dared to hit me?!” I smiled, pulled the massive diamond wedding ring off my ring finger, and tossed it into the drainage gutter by the driveway. “Congratulations. You just picked up a piece of trash I don’t want anymore.” Her face turned pale, but she stiffened her neck and spat back, “What are you so smug about?!” “Arthur is the famous CEO of Sterling Enterprises now! He doesn’t need you anymore!” “Believe it or not, all it takes is one word from me, and he’ll divorce you!” I laughed out loud. “Is that right? Then let’s see exactly what he chooses tomorrow morning.” Without giving her a chance to retort, I turned and walked away. Arthur didn’t come home the entire night, but he didn’t try to contact me, either. It seemed Mia was a coward after all. She didn’t even have the guts to tell him I had confronted her. I slept incredibly well. Bright and early the next morning, I got into my assistant’s car. “Let’s go. Sunshine Academy.” I was genuinely curious to see what Arthur looked like playing the role of a loving father. By the time we arrived, the street in front of the kindergarten was already lined with luxury cars. A few minutes later, Arthur’s car pulled up. Right on cue, Mia stepped out of the backseat, holding her son, Leo. “Mr. Sterling! Mrs. Sterling!” The kindergarten principal rushed forward to greet them with a beaming smile. “You’re here! Please, come right in. The thank-you presentation is about to begin.” A crowd instantly formed around them. “So he’s the CEO who donated the new playground!” “Mr. Sterling really spares no expense for his child!” “I know, right? I heard he built his company from scratch and is worth over a hundred million in just a few years. Incredible!” Hearing the praise, Arthur looked incredibly smug. He took Leo from Mia’s arms and said with a doting smile, “If it weren’t for my wife building this empire by my side, I wouldn’t be where I am today.” “As long as my wife and Leo are happy, no expense is too great.” I found it utterly hilarious. Mia built an empire by his side? Did he forget that if my dad hadn’t invested fifty million dollars, he’d still be a low-level sales rep at a nobody firm? If I hadn’t leveraged my family’s network and resources, he never would have landed any of those massive contracts. Just as they were about to walk through the academy gates, I let out a cold laugh and stepped out of my car. I pulled off my sunglasses, staring directly at Arthur, and spoke loudly enough for the crowd to hear: “A man who married into his wife’s money actually has the nerve to keep a mistress and a bastard child on the side. You’ve got some real guts.” The moment Arthur saw me, his entire body went rigid. Mia, however, was quick on the draw. She immediately linked her arm tightly through Arthur’s. I walked up to them with a mocking smile. “CEO Sterling really goes above and beyond to take care of his employees, doesn’t he?” “Taking care of your secretary to the point of getting her pregnant, and then dropping a million dollars on a playground to keep her happy. What a generous boss.” The crowd exploded into gasps and whispers. The way they looked at Mia changed instantly—from envy and admiration to blatant disgust and contempt. “What? That woman is his secretary?!” “So she’s a homewrecker! Does that mean Leo is an illegitimate kid?” Mia’s face drained of color, and tears began to stream down her cheeks. “I’m not a mistress! Arthur and I have been together for six years! Leo is five years old!” She looked up at Arthur with a pitiful, tear-stained face. “Arthur, tell them. Isn’t that true?” Arthur finally snapped out of his shock and glared at me fiercely. “Chloe, why are you here?” “What exactly are you trying to pull?!” He wrapped his arm tightly around Mia, then turned to the crowd with an apologetic look. “Everyone, I am so sorry you had to witness this.” “This woman is our family’s maid. She’s suffered from severe delusions for years. She genuinely believes she is my wife.” “I kept her employed out of pity because she’s taken care of our household for so long.” “I never imagined she would follow us here today and cause a scene.” What? I couldn’t believe my ears. He actually called me his maid? The parents in the crowd immediately rallied behind them, pointing at me and whispering loudly. “So she’s just a crazy maid.” “The help these days is out of control. Delusional enough to think she’s the lady of the house.” “Look at her clothes. How could a maid afford that? She definitely stole them from Mrs. Sterling’s closet!” “Shameless trash! How dare she slander the real Mrs. Sterling by calling her a mistress!” Right then, my phone buzzed. It was a text from Mia: [See that? Arthur chose me!] [Why didn’t he come home last night? Hmm, so hard to guess. 😉] [I was going to let you off the hook and not tell Arthur you hit me, but you just had to come here and humiliate yourself.] Immediately after, a video file popped up in the chat. In the video, Arthur and Mia were in his office… in extremely compromising, explicit positions. No wonder Arthur didn’t come home last night or call to interrogate me. What I didn’t understand was where Arthur found the audacity to treat me like this. I looked up, staring dead into his eyes, and asked coldly, “Arthur, aren’t you afraid my dad will find out about this?” Hearing that, Arthur’s brow furrowed. Then, he actually leaned in close to my ear and sneered in a low voice, “Your dad? Your stepmother is about to pop, and rumor has it she’s having a boy.” “Do you really think you’re still getting a piece of the Davis family fortune?” So that was it… But what he didn’t know was that long before I agreed to let my dad marry Sarah, they had already signed a bulletproof prenuptial agreement. The contract explicitly stated that everything belonging to the Davis family would go to me. To put my mind at ease, Sarah had even convinced my dad to transfer all his voting shares in the company to me on the spot. Thinking of that, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud. I quickly forwarded the explicit video and chat logs directly to my dad. Seeing me stay silent, Arthur’s face darkened. “Are you going to get lost or not?” “If you ever dare to pull a stunt like this in front of my wife and son again, don’t blame me for what happens next!” Hearing his threat, the crowd felt fully validated. The principal immediately rushed forward, eager to please. “Mr. Sterling, please don’t worry! I’ll have security throw this crazy woman out right now!” The other parents chimed in in agreement. “Hurry up and leave! Stop embarrassing yourself!” “Seriously! If you’re that desperate for a man, go stand on a street corner! Coming to a kindergarten to try and steal a child’s father—you have no shame!” Within seconds, several security guards carrying batons marched up to me. I instinctively took two steps back. “Don’t you dare touch me!” Suddenly, someone in the crowd reached out and tried to yank my handbag off my shoulder. “Isn’t this the new limited-edition bag that’s been sold out for months?!” “You psycho! Give that back to Mrs. Sterling right now!” “Stealing clothes is one thing, but trying to steal a husband?! Who do you think you are?!” “I say we strip her right here! Let the kids learn exactly what happens to thieves!”

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In December 1975, I had a miscarriage at the military base hospital. When the nurse came out to find my husband, Arthur, to sign the paperwork, he was crouching at the end of the hallway, gripping the payphone. “Clara, please don’t cry. I’ll figure out the money for the baby formula…” After he finally signed my papers, he barely glanced at me. “Hazel, just hold on for a bit. Clara’s kid is sick.” And then, he left. I lay on the hard wooden bench in the corridor all night long. What I eventually got was a freezing, congealed bowl of cafeteria macaroni. I didn’t cry. Because I had already died once. In my past life, I waited for Arthur for thirty years. I waited until he climbed the ranks and got rich. I waited until Clara got severely ill and he stayed by her hospital bed, refusing to leave her side for even a second—while I was left to die alone in our freezing house with a 104-degree fever, completely ignored. Reborn into this life, I took that bowl of cold macaroni and dumped it straight into the trash can. “Arthur, we’re getting a divorce.” He froze. His metal thermos dropped to the floor with a loud clatter, splashing cold soup all over his boots. Arthur couldn’t believe it. “Hazel, what kind of nonsense are you talking about?” He stood in my hospital room, legs planted apart, arms crossed over his chest. He wore that classic Hazel, you’re being unreasonable again expression. I knew that look too well. I had stared at it for thirty years in my past life. “I’m not talking nonsense. We don’t have a kid now, so the paperwork will be simple.” “Is this because of last night?” He furrowed his brows. “Clara’s kid was genuinely sick. I just ran to the clinic to help out—” “And gave her the cash for the baby formula?” His jaw dropped, but no words came out. “That was the money I saved up for six months. A few dollars every week, hidden under my pillow. I counted it over and over.” I looked at him, my voice dead quiet. “I figured when our baby was born, I couldn’t let him go hungry.” “But my baby died last night. He never even got the chance to use it.” Arthur’s arms slowly dropped to his sides. “About that formula money—” “I’m not just talking about the formula money.” I threw off the thin blanket and got out of bed. My knees were weak, and I had to grip the bedframe to stand steady. “Arthur, when I married you, my mother gave me five hundred dollars in savings, a bolt of imported blue velvet, our emergency grocery fund, and an antique silver bracelet. Where are those things now?” His face changed color. “You took the velvet, saying you were going to have winter coats made for your unit. But on Christmas, Clara wore a brand-new dress. The exact same shade of blue as my fabric.” “You took our grocery fund last month, saying the squad was pitching in for a banquet. The mess hall never had a banquet.” “You stole my silver bracelet and pawned it for a hundred and twenty-five bucks. On Clara’s son’s hundredth day, he was wearing a brand-new pair of leather shoes that cost exactly a hundred and twenty-five bucks.” “As for that five hundred dollars, you claimed you mailed it to your parents our second month of marriage. Your brother wrote to us last year saying they hadn’t received a single dime.” He went from red to white, and from white to a sickly green. After a few seconds of dead silence, he managed to choke out one sentence. “How do you know all that?” Even though I had mentally prepared myself, my nose still stung. “You don’t need to explain.” I bent down and slipped on my shoes. “I’ll write the divorce application. You just need to sign it.” “Hazel!” he roared. “Over a few material things, you’re really going to divorce me?!” I straightened my back and glared at him with dead eyes. “That silver bracelet was slipped onto my wrist by my mother right before she died. She told me to wear it, to pretend she was still with me.” “You pawned it for a hundred and twenty-five bucks. To buy Clara’s kid shoes. He outgrew them in a month, and she threw them in the trash.” “My mother’s last memory of me. A hundred and twenty-five bucks. One month. The garbage dump.” “You tell me—is it worth a divorce?” His mouth hung open. He couldn’t force out a single syllable. I grabbed my duffel bag from the bedside and walked out. At the military base housing. I pushed open the front door to pack my things. Someone was sitting in the living room—Clara. She was wearing a vibrant, aqua-blue blouse. I recognized the color instantly. It was the exact shade of the last few yards of my blue velvet. Seeing me walk in, she stood up, her face plastered with the perfect blend of fragility and apologetic concern. “Hazel, I heard you weren’t feeling well. I came to check on you.” “Clara, your intel is pretty fast.” I walked right past her, crouching down to pull my trunk from under the bed. The trunk was completely empty. The grocery cash was gone, the fabric was gone, the wages I had saved up were entirely wiped out. All that was left was a few worn-out clothes and an enamel washbasin. Clara stood behind me, her eyes sweeping over the empty trunk, the corners of her lips twitching into a micro-smirk. “Hazel, I heard you and Arthur got into a fight?” “Not a fight. A divorce.” Her eyes lit up for a fraction of a second. Then, she quickly lowered her eyelashes, swapping her expression for one of deep worry. “Hazel, you need to think this through. Arthur is a military officer; a military divorce isn’t easy. With your health like this, if you leave, you’ll be all alone—” “Clara.” I stood up, dusting off my knees. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” “Go ahead.” “You’re wearing clothes made from my fabric, spending the cash he pawned my wedding gifts for, and eating the groceries I skimped and saved for—and you have the nerve to stand here and tell me to think it through?” Her face stiffened. “I—those weren’t—Arthur said they were issued by the military—” “Issued by the military?” I pointed at her blouse. “My mother bought that fabric in town right before she passed. Blue velvet, imported. The local tailor only got one shipment. Clara, do you want me to dig out the receipt and show it to you?” Clara’s lips drained of color. She took a half-step back, subconsciously tugging at the hem of her shirt, as if trying to hide it. “Hazel, don’t just spit venom at people—” “What venom am I spitting? You’re literally wearing my stolen property, flaunting it in my face. Pointing that out is spitting venom?” I took a step forward. She took another step back, her spine hitting the wall. “Clara, your brother saved Arthur’s life. I acknowledge that debt. But Arthur should be the one paying that debt, not carving the flesh off my bones to do it. If you want to eat well, dress well, and live the good life, go ask Arthur for his own paycheck. What right do you have to take mine?!” “I never asked for it! Arthur gave it to me himself—” “Himself? When he was stealing my dowry behind my back, you didn’t know? When he pawned my dead mother’s bracelet, you didn’t know? When your son was running around the yard in those expensive leather shoes, you didn’t know where the money came from?” Tears spilled from Clara’s eyes. I had seen those tears too many times. In my past life, every time she cried, Arthur would rush over to shield her, then turn around and berate me for being petty. But in this life, Arthur wasn’t here. It was just the two of us women in this room. “What are you crying for?” My voice turned to ice. “Do you have any right to cry? The one who should be crying is me. I lost my baby yesterday, and my husband ran off to call you about baby formula. I lay bleeding in a hospital hallway all night, and all I got was a bowl of cold macaroni. What right do you have to cry in front of me?” My words choked Clara’s sobs right back down her throat. She glared at me. The layers of her fragile facade peeled away, revealing what lay beneath—pure hatred. “Hazel, you’ve changed.” “I’ve changed? Good. The old, unchanging Hazel was almost bled dry by you two parasites.” I stuffed a few old clothes into my duffel bag and pulled the drawstring tight. As I walked to the door, her voice chased after me from behind. “Do you think you’ll have a good life after you divorce him? You have nothing! The second you walk out that door, you’re just a—” I didn’t look back. “It’s true that I have nothing. But at least from now on, every bite of food I eat and every inch of fabric I own will belong to me. And nobody will ever take a single thread from me again.” I slammed the door behind me. There was an old elm tree by the gates of the base housing, its bare branches dusted with snow. A man was standing under it. It was my cousin, Wyatt. He was wearing a heavy winter coat, a layer of snow settling on his broad shoulders. “Hazel!” He ran over to take my heavy bag, his thick brows knotting together. “I heard what happened. Arthur, that son of a bitch—” “Wyatt, let’s just go. We can talk on the way.” Wyatt drove his rusted Chevy pickup, and I sat in the passenger seat. Aunt Martha was already bustling around the house when we arrived. Seeing my face as pale as a ghost, she didn’t say a word. She just pushed me onto the warm sofa and went straight to the stove to bring out a massive bowl of hot chicken stew. It was a rich, golden broth, steaming hot and comforting. I took one sip, and a tear dropped right into the bowl. How long had it been since I had a hot meal? Married to Arthur for six years, every penny and grocery I saved went straight into Clara’s stomach. I ate stale bread and pickles every day, leaving me weak and anemic, barely able to stand while doing chores. Aunt Martha watched me devour the soup, wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and turned to Wyatt. “Go! Butcher that fat hen in the yard! I’m making Hazel a proper chicken roast tomorrow!” “You got it!” Wyatt rolled up his sleeves and marched out the back door. That night, Aunt Martha brought out a freshly made quilt for my bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress, gripping my hand tightly. “Hazel, this is your home. You stay here as long as you want.” I nodded. My throat was too tight to speak. I rested at my aunt’s house for two days before Arthur finally came looking for me. He wasn’t alone. Clara came with him. Aunt Martha was in the yard feeding the chickens. When she heard the noise at the gate and saw who it was, her face instantly darkened. Arthur stood in the front. Clara stood a half-step behind him, holding Toby, her head bowed like a fragile flower about to be blown over by the wind. “Martha, I’m here to take Hazel home,” Arthur said. Aunt Martha didn’t even put down the chicken feed bucket. She looked him up and down. “Take her home? What kind of nerve do you have to show your face here and say that?” “Martha, what happened between me and Hazel—” “What happened between you and Hazel is the talk of the entire base!” Aunt Martha slammed the feed bucket onto the ground, her voice booming. “You took her dowry to feed a woman on the side! You left her to miscarry alone! What right do you have to stand at my door and demand to take her back?!” Clara gently tugged at Arthur’s sleeve from behind, whispering something in a low voice. Arthur’s face shifted. He glanced back at her, then turned back to my aunt. “Martha, there’s a huge misunderstanding here—” “What misunderstanding?” I stepped out of the house. I hadn’t planned on coming out. But hearing Clara’s voice made me change my mind. Some things are better handled face-to-face than gossiped about behind closed doors. Seeing me, Clara’s eyes immediately reddened. “Hazel, I know you’re angry, but you can’t just—” I completely ignored her. I looked straight at Arthur. “Why did you bring her here?” “She said she wanted to explain things to you—” “Explain what? Explain where the clothes on her back came from? Or explain whose money bought the shoes on her son’s feet?” Clara’s face went white, and the tears immediately began to fall. Aunt Martha let out a cold scoff, marching over to stand beside me, hands on her hips. “I recognize that blue blouse you’re wearing. That fabric was bought by Hazel’s mother right before she passed. She only bought a few yards. Do you think our family is blind?” Clara’s tears fell like a broken string of pearls, but she kept defending herself. “I really didn’t know…” Aunt Martha snorted, turning her crosshairs to Arthur. “Arthur, you’re a military man. You’re supposed to have honor and logic. You steal your wife’s wedding gifts to subsidize an outsider, refuse to admit it when you’re caught, and then bring that outsider to our doorstep to put on a soap opera? Do you think our family has nobody left to defend her?!” Arthur’s face turned the color of bruised liver. “Martha, I didn’t steal—” “Then what do you call it? Borrowing? Did you ever pay it back?!” Arthur was struck dumb. Clara suddenly stepped forward, her voice pitching higher. “Hazel! What makes you so special?! So what if a few of your things were used? Arthur helped me because my brother saved his life! Since you married him, you should be willing to stick by him through thick and thin!” “Through thick and thin?” My voice overpowered her crying. “Clara, touch your conscience when you say ‘thick and thin’. Where was the ‘thick’? I was married to him for six years. I wore patched clothes and ate stale bread. And you? You wore brand-new winter coats, and your son wore imported leather shoes. Where was the ‘thin’? I swallowed all the suffering, and you swallowed all the sweetness. And you have the audacity to lecture me about sticking through thick and thin?” I backed Clara into a corner with my words. The toddler in her arms, Toby, got scared and started wailing. “You—you’re crazy!” “I’m not crazy. I’m completely sober.” I looked at her, enunciating every word. “Clara, what exactly did you come here for today? Did you come to persuade me to go back, or did you come to confirm that I’m really leaving so you can comfortably take your place as Mrs. Arthur?” That sentence acted like a scalpel, slicing off the very last layer of her disguise. Her lips trembled. The tears were still falling, but her eyes had changed. There was no more grievance in that gaze—only the furious resentment of being completely exposed. “Hazel, don’t think you’re going to live a good life just because you divorce him. You have nothing—” “It’s true that I have nothing. But at least I have myself. What about you? Even the tears on your face are fake.” Aunt Martha grabbed my arm and pulled me behind her, waving her hand at Clara. “Alright, alright! You’ve done your crying and you’ve done your acting. Now get lost! Our family doesn’t welcome you!” She pointed at Arthur next. “You leave too! If you want to take your wife home, start acting like a real husband! If you can’t do that, sign the papers and let her go! Stop wasting Hazel’s time!” Arthur, his face ashen, opened his mouth several times, but not a single word came out. Clara, clutching the screaming Toby, turned and stormed off. After a few steps, she looked back and shot me a vicious, venomous glare. Arthur stood there for a moment longer, before finally turning and leaving as well. Aunt Martha slammed the yard gate shut, dusted her hands off, and looked back at me. “That woman is bad news.” “I know.” “You were right to leave him.” “I know.” After resting for three days, I got down to business. I found a notebook and listed every single dollar, every single item, and every single grocery run Arthur had taken from me over the last six years. The date, the quantity, the destination—I wrote it all down, line by line. Wyatt helped me corroborate the list—he had helped me transport some of those items originally, so he remembered them clearly. On the fifth day, Arthur showed up again. Wyatt blocked the doorway, refusing to let him in. Arthur’s lips were purple from the freezing cold. Standing in the snow, he yelled into the house, “Hazel! Come back with me! It’s completely inappropriate for you to be living in someone else’s house!”

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Right in the middle of dinner, Liam suddenly put down his fork, looked at me, and asked, “Who is Jack Falcon?” My fork stopped in mid-air. My heart skipped a beat. Jack Falcon. That was a fake name my best friend, Chloe, and I had come up with one night when we were drunk. We made a pact. If either of us ever got into trouble and couldn’t be reached, we would use “Jack Falcon” as our distress signal. Besides her and me, no one else in the entire world knew this name existed. And Chloe had been missing for exactly one month. She said she was taking a vacation to Thailand. She never came back. I looked at Liam’s casual, unbothered face, and my heart sank inch by inch. How does he know that name? … The name Jack Falcon was born the year Chloe and I graduated from college. After finishing a whole bottle of cheap red wine, we were lying on the roof of our apartment building, just talking nonsense. The moon was huge that night. Chloe threw her arm around my neck, slurring her words, “Harper, let’s make up a secret code.” “What kind of code?” “Like… if one of us ever gets into deep trouble and goes completely off the grid, and someone else brings up this specific name, the other one will know something is terribly wrong.” I laughed at her for being so dramatic. But we still spent half an hour brainstorming until we finally landed on “Jack Falcon.” Because the name was so incredibly cliché and fake, there was no way someone actually had that name. In the entire world, only two people knew the meaning of those two words. Me. And Chloe. And Chloe had been missing for exactly thirty-one days. She had told me she was going to Chiang Mai, Thailand, for a few days to unwind. Before her flight, she even FaceTimed me from the duty-free shop at the airport, yelling, “Harper! What do you want? I’ll buy it for you!” That was the last time I saw her face. After that, my texts went unread. My calls went straight to voicemail. Her Instagram feed stopped updating after a single picture of a night market in Chiang Mai. I called the police. Her family called the police. The Thai authorities were supposedly investigating. But there was no trace of her. Alive or dead. It was like Chloe had completely evaporated from the face of the earth. And now. My husband, Liam. A man who theoretically had absolutely zero connection to Chloe. A man who wouldn’t even “like” one of Chloe’s Instagram posts. Just casually dropped those two words in the middle of dinner. “What’s wrong?” Liam asked, noticing my frozen state. He gave a small smile. “Why do you look so weird?” “Nothing.” I looked down and shoved a piece of chicken into my mouth, tasting absolutely nothing. “I’ve just never heard that name before. Where did you hear it?” “Oh, a friend mentioned it.” Liam picked up his water glass and took a sip. “Just asking.” He seamlessly changed the subject, moving on to talk about something happening at his firm. But I didn’t hear a single word he said. There was only one thought screaming in my head. How does he know that name? How the hell does he know? After dinner, Liam went to take a shower. I sat on the living room sofa, my palms sweating. The sound of running water echoed from the bathroom. I glanced at the bathroom door, stood up, and walked over to his phone resting on the dining table. I knew his passcode. It was our wedding anniversary. I unlocked the phone, my fingers trembling as I scrolled through his texts, his call logs, his Notes app. Nothing. It was perfectly clean. Unnaturally clean. A normal person’s phone is never this empty. I moved to his laptop. It was sitting on his desk in the study. I knew the password to that, too. Or rather, he had never bothered to hide it from me. I checked his browser history, his file folders, his downloads, scrutinizing everything one by one. Until I opened the cached data for a flight booking website. My hand froze on the mouse. One month ago. Liam told me he had to go to Chicago for a three-day business trip. I had even packed his suitcase for him. But the booking records showed a different story. He didn’t buy a ticket to Chicago. He bought a ticket to Chiang Mai, Thailand. His departure date was one day before Chloe’s. His return date was two days after Chloe went missing. The shower stopped running. I immediately shut the laptop, rushed back to the living room, threw myself onto the sofa, and pretended to be mindlessly scrolling through TikTok. Liam walked out, drying his hair with a towel. He glanced at me. “Not asleep yet?” “Yeah, just gonna scroll a bit longer.” I forced a smile. He walked into the bedroom and turned off the lights. I stared at the dark, closed door of the bedroom, my fingers slowly digging into the fabric of the sofa armrest. Liam. What were you doing in Thailand? The next morning, I told Liam my company had an emergency project and I needed to travel for a few days. He was tying his tie, not even turning around. “Where to?” “Seattle.” “When are you back?” “Not sure. Maybe three or four days.” He finally turned to look at me, flashing a gentle smile. “Be safe.” I smiled back. It was a midday flight. I didn’t go to Seattle. I flew to Chiang Mai. When the plane landed, it was 4:00 PM local time. The air in Chiang Mai was hot and sticky, and the unfamiliar scents hitting my face made me dizzy for a second. The last photo Chloe sent me was taken in this exact city. Night markets, neon lights, crowds of people. She was standing in front of a mango sticky rice stall, smiling like a kid. But I didn’t have time to be sentimental. I took a cab straight to the hotel Chloe had booked. I had looked it up before leaving. She had sent me a screenshot of her booking confirmation before her trip. It was a boutique hotel called the Lotus Courtyard, right on the edge of the Old City. When I got to the front desk, I pulled out a picture of Chloe and asked the receptionist in English. “Did this girl stay at your hotel a month ago? Do you remember her?” The receptionist looked at the photo and shook her head. “Her name is Chloe. She’s American,” I added. The receptionist typed something into her computer, then nodded. “Yes, we have a record of her. She stayed for three nights. She didn’t extend her stay, but she also never officially checked out. Her luggage is still in our storage room.” My heart violently twisted. Her luggage was still here. But she was gone. I steadied my breathing and asked the question I was most terrified to ask. “A month ago… did this American man also stay at your hotel?” I slid a picture of Liam across the counter. The receptionist took a look, then typed into her computer again. When she looked up, her expression was hesitant. “Yes. He stayed for five nights.” Five nights. Two nights longer than Chloe. “What room was he in?” “Room 312.” “And Chloe?” “Room 315.” The same floor. Separated by only two rooms. I stood frozen at the front desk, a loud ringing filling my ears. My first thought was the most cliché one: They were having an affair. Chloe and Liam, booking rooms next to each other in Thailand for a secret getaway. But the moment that thought surfaced, another voice in my head violently slapped it down. Impossible. Chloe despised Liam. It wasn’t just a polite, behind-the-scenes kind of dislike. It was the kind of dislike where she would mercilessly roast him to his face. Whenever I dragged Liam to group hangouts, Chloe completely ignored him. Once, when she was drunk, she pointed right at him and said, “Harper is perfect in every way, except her taste in men is absolute garbage.” Liam’s face had turned green. Since that day, they had refused to even look at each other. How could two people who hated each other be sneaking off to Thailand for an affair? Then why was he staying right next door to her? What the hell was he doing? I took a deep breath and looked at the receptionist. “I need to see your hotel’s security footage from that week.” She looked extremely uncomfortable. “Um… we would need to get authorization from the manager for that.” “Please ask.” “And it might require a police warrant.” “My best friend is missing.” I cut her off. My voice was calm, but my hands were shaking violently. “It’s been a month. No one has seen or heard from her. Your hotel might be the last place she was ever seen alive. Do you really think your manager is going to refuse to cooperate?” The receptionist stared at me, stunned into silence. Then, she picked up the phone. Twenty minutes later, the hotel’s head of security took me to the surveillance room. It was a cramped room with screens covering three of the walls. The security chief pulled up the footage from a month ago, starting from the day Chloe checked in. I sat in the chair, staring at the screen, my palms slick with cold sweat. Day One. Chloe dragged her suitcase into the hotel lobby and checked in at the front desk. She was wearing a white sundress, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, chatting and laughing with the receptionist. My eyes suddenly burned with tears. Then, in the bottom right corner of the screen, at the lobby entrance. A man pushed through the doors. Dark blue t-shirt, a baseball cap pulled low, and a black face mask. I knew that posture. I knew that walk. It was Liam. He didn’t go to the front desk. Instead, he sat down in the lounge area, picking up a magazine to shield his face. But his eyes were locked onto Chloe. From the moment she checked in, to when she grabbed her keycard, to when she stepped into the elevator. He watched her the entire time. A cold shiver crawled down my spine. “Fast forward,” I said. The security chief increased the playback speed. Day One, Afternoon. Chloe left the hotel to go exploring. The camera switched to the exterior of the hotel. About two minutes after Chloe walked out, Liam followed her. Same baseball cap. Same mask. He kept a distance of about sixty feet. Day One, Evening. Chloe was eating dinner at the hotel’s ground-floor restaurant. Liam was sitting in the darkest corner of the restaurant, ordering a single coffee. His seat offered a perfect, unobstructed view of Chloe’s table. Chloe never noticed him. Day Two. Chloe went out to visit a temple. Liam followed her. Chloe went to a night market. Liam followed her. Chloe stopped by the side of the road to buy coconut water, crouching down to pet a stray cat. Liam stood across the street, pretending to be engrossed in his phone outside a convenience store. Every single camera angle. Every single frame. He was there. My hands started to shake violently. This wasn’t an affair. People having an affair don’t act like this. Wearing a mask, keeping a massive distance, tracking her every move. People having an affair walk side-by-side, eat together, touch each other. But he didn’t. From start to finish, he never spoke a single word to her. From start to finish, Chloe had absolutely no idea he was there. This wasn’t romance. It was stalking. “What about the third day?” I asked, my throat painfully dry. The security chief pulled up the footage for Day Three. On the morning of the third day, Chloe checked out. Or rather, she left the hotel with a backpack. She was holding a physical map, looking like she was in a great mood. The footage showed her walking out the main doors and heading east down the street. Two minutes later. Liam exited through the hotel’s side door, walking in the exact same direction. And then, the screen went blank. The hotel’s cameras only covered the immediate perimeter of the building. The world beyond those fifty yards was a blind spot. “Do you have any other cameras?” I asked. The security chief shook his head. “That’s all we have. For street cameras, you’d have to go to the local police.” I sat in silence for a very long time. Then I stood up, muttered a thank you, and walked out of the security room. Standing outside the hotel entrance, I opened the maps app on my phone. Chloe’s final direction was east. If you kept walking east down that road, you’d pass a few residential streets, an outdoor market, and a gas station. And at the very end of that road, you hit the ocean. Specifically, a stretch of jagged cliffs overlooking the sea. I stared at that marker on the map, my fingers turning to ice. She went there. He followed her there. And then she disappeared. I rented a scooter and rode down that road for forty minutes. The road ended at an expansive, desolate coastline. The cliffs were terrifyingly high, with nothing but jagged rocks and violently crashing waves below. The wind was howling, so strong it was hard to stand still. This wasn’t a tourist spot. There were no guardrails, no warning signs, just an overgrown dirt path leading right up to the precipice. I stood at the edge and looked down. Nothing but loose gravel, thick brush, and a narrow beach constantly battered by the tide. If someone fell from up here… I couldn’t let myself think about it. I started knocking on doors in the area. There was a tiny, impoverished fishing village near the cliffs with a handful of scattered houses. I held up Chloe’s picture, asking every single resident I could find. No one had seen her. I asked more than a dozen households. Nothing but head shakes. Just as I was about to give up and leave, I spotted a little boy sitting under a massive banyan tree at the edge of the village. He looked about seven or eight years old. He was wearing a filthy blue t-shirt, sitting barefoot in the dirt, playing with something in his hands. I squinted. It was a smartphone. With a pink case. And a pop-socket shaped like a cat’s paw. My brain completely short-circuited. That phone case… I gave that exact case to Chloe for her birthday.

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