After the story about my ex-boyfriend and me went viral, the internet lost its collective mind. Everyone said we were the absolute pinnacle of tragic Hollywood romances. Then, his “first love” stepped in to debunk the rumors, claiming I was just pulling a publicity stunt. My ex-boyfriend even retweeted her post: [It’s fake. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Later, we ran into each other at an industry dinner. Someone accidentally brought up how I had once drank myself into the ER with stomach bleeding just to secure an audition for him. It was a role he always believed his first love had gotten for him. The color drained from his face instantly. He stared at me in sheer disbelief. People around us murmured that it wasn’t worth it, asking if I regretted it. My ex-boyfriend looked at me, his eyes swimming with complex emotions. I thought about it, then gave a peaceful smile. “I don’t regret it. I let it go a long time ago.” 1 The internet dug up some old, bittersweet moments between me and my ex-boyfriend. It was a video from three years ago. I had just won the Best Newcomer award at the Golden Globes. During the red carpet interview, a reporter asked if I had anything I wanted to say. I was holding up my dress with my left hand and clutching my trophy in my right. I sneaked a glance at Liam Hayes, who was standing off to the side. He had just debuted back then. He was an unknown rookie, standing alone in a corner while everyone ignored him. I flashed a bright smile and whispered into the mic, “That’s my boyfriend. He’s incredibly talented, and one day, he’s going to be an amazing actor!” Snow had started falling on the red carpet. A few white flakes caught on my eyelashes as I pressed my hands together in a pleading gesture. “Please take good care of him for me!” The video was set to a heartbreakingly beautiful soundtrack. The fans had also spliced in footage of Liam winning his Best Actor Oscar years later. He was giving his acceptance speech. “I want to thank the person who means the most to me. If it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t be standing here today.” As he spoke, he looked emotionally into the audience, his voice thick with suppressed feeling. “Thank you for always staying by my side. I hope we can keep walking this path together for the rest of our lives.” The comments section was flooded: [Omg, my heart! I want to cry!] [When Chloe Miller was having her biggest moment, she didn’t promote herself, she asked everyone to look out for Liam. She loved him so much!] [It’s definitely a two-way street! Liam actually became the amazing actor she said he’d be, and he even thanked her when he won his Oscar. Look at his eyes, he’s so in love!] [He finally became the great man you said he would be, but he lost you… Why did they break up?! This is the most tragic romance ever. This old tea is killing me!] … The video swept across every major platform. In an instant, Liam’s and my names shot to the top three trending topics on Twitter. Honestly, the editing was masterful. The internet is full of hidden talents. Even I couldn’t help but sigh. If I wasn’t the main character, I probably would have been moved to tears too. But only I knew the truth: Liam’s “thank you” during his speech was never meant for me. The person he was talking about was his first love. 2 I broke up with Liam on the exact day he won his Oscar. Looking back, I genuinely thought he was thanking me during his speech. I even contributed a tearful reaction shot for the cameras. After all, for his sake, I might not have walked through fire, but I definitely gave it everything I had. When he was a rookie with zero connections, I used every favor I had to get him auditions. I even split my own agent’s time to manage him. Just to get him some screen time, I slashed my own asking price to secure a package deal where he could join the cast with me. Good roles are almost impossible to land in this industry. Every newcomer is fighting tooth and nail to break out. To help him secure a crucial supporting role, I was pressured by a sleazy director to drink shot after shot until my stomach started bleeding. I was rushed to the ER that same night. But I thought it was all worth it. I have to admit, Liam was incredibly talented. Plus, he was stunningly handsome. Even in an industry full of beautiful people, he stood out. That supporting role catapulted him to stardom! He became the new “It Boy.” For a while, he was untouchable, drowning in script offers. His striking face, paired with his cold, untouchable aura, had young fans losing their minds. In just a few days, his followers skyrocketed past ten million. But that night, after the award ceremony ended and the after-party was winding down, I walked out of the restroom trying to clear my head from the champagne. And I saw him hugging Olivia Vance. The harsh, cold lights froze me in place. I stood perfectly still, watching them share an intimate kiss. Olivia was Liam’s first love. They had been together since high school and dated for over five years. She was also an actress. Later, because her agency had a strict no-dating clause, they were forced to break up. I had always suspected that Liam only entered the entertainment industry because of her. I watched Liam. His lips carried a faint smile, his expression so tender it looked like he was melting. He looked completely satisfied as he buried his chin in the crook of Olivia’s neck. I had never seen him make that face before. Around me, he was always serious and cold. In that moment, I finally understood. In love, hard work is the most useless thing in the world. Everything I had done over the years was just me making a fool of myself. His heart was entirely occupied by someone else. No matter how much I threw myself at him, it was a waste of time. Standing under the lights, they looked perfect together, like a matched set. Even I couldn’t help but feel that he belonged with her. So that night, I broke up with Liam. The breakup was messy. I was young and impulsive. Love and hate existed on a razor’s edge. I lost control, calling him an ungrateful bastard. I said raising a dog would have been better than raising him. I told him I was blind for ever dating him, and that looking at him made me sick! Liam fired back, accusing me of playing the martyr. He said he never needed me running around playing his manager, and that from start to finish, he had never actually liked me! In the very end, I couldn’t hold back my tears. With red eyes and a trembling voice, I asked him: “So, when you won that award… who exactly were you thanking?” He clenched his jaw and turned his head away. After a long pause, he said coldly, “Olivia, obviously. Did you think it was you? “Stop flattering yourself.” “I understand,” I said, wiping the tears from my face, my voice quiet. “Liam, we’re done.” 3 That was already a year ago. I was miserable for a while back then. Not only did I feel completely unlovable, but I also felt like all my sacrifices had been fed to the dogs. I drank too much a few times and lived in a haze for weeks. But now, I felt like I had finally moved on. When I saw the viral video again, I just smiled and sighed to my agent: “Look how stupid I was back then. “Liam was standing right next to me, completely ignoring me, and I was still acting like an idiot, begging everyone to take care of him.” My agent sighed. “Everyone runs into a few toxic guys when they’re young—” Suddenly, her face drained of color. “Olivia just tweeted!” I hadn’t caught on yet. “What did she say?” My agent’s brow furrowed tightly. “She’s saying you’re using this for PR. She says Liam was thanking her!” I opened Twitter and saw that Olivia had quote-tweeted the viral video of Liam and me, commenting: [Wow, great editing, even I almost shipped it! But the person Liam was thanking back then was actually me lol. Not trying to take up everyone’s timeline, but I really hope people stop with these shameless PR stunts!] A few minutes later, Liam quote-tweeted her post. [Shipping everything you see will only hurt you. I was always thanking Olivia. Unrelated people, please respect yourselves.] Unrelated people. My agent was standing next to me, cursing him out at the top of her lungs, but I just stared at those words until my eyes burned and stung. So, in his heart, I was always just an… unrelated person. Those whispered secrets, those late-night conversations, the laughter, and the tears. It turned out it was all just a one-woman show. “What do we do?!” I gave a bitter smile. “There’s nothing we can do. What she’s saying is the truth. Liam really wasn’t thanking me.” My agent panicked. “But now she’s starting a smear campaign! She’s claiming you were the other woman, that you swooped in while she and Liam were fighting. She’s calling you a homewrecker!” Sure enough, coordinated troll accounts started flooding the comments. [Are people really shipping a homewrecker? Liam and Olivia have been together since college. Chloe Miller is a shameless bitch who swooped in when they were on a break!] [Right? Do people just not fact-check anymore? Homewreckers should go die, seriously.] [Chloe Miller needs to get canceled. How does she have the nerve to pull a PR stunt after ruining their relationship? Disgusting!] … Within a few hours, massive waves of troll accounts started controlling the narrative in my comments. These accounts were all newly registered, some not even having profile pictures. They had zero proof, but they were relentlessly spamming the narrative. But the internet loves drama, and they don’t care about logic. Many people actually believed I was a homewrecker. They flooded my mentions with abuse and even went to the page of my upcoming TV show, spamming the director to recast me. No matter how much I tried to explain on Twitter, no one believed me. They didn’t need the truth; they just needed a target to vent their anger on. My agent was pulling her hair out in frustration. “A few brand sponsors just called me asking what’s going on. I managed to stall them, but you need to call Liam right now and make him clear this up! “You two started dating a long time after they broke up! He knows the truth better than anyone!” She was right. If Liam just said one sentence, I’d be fine. But would he really help me? After hesitating for a moment, I dialed the number I hadn’t called in a year. “The number you have dialed is currently powered off. Please try again later…” I froze, listening to the cold, automated voice. Liam had just tweeted a few minutes ago. How could his phone be off? A sharp, piercing pain started spreading through my chest. I offered my agent a tragic smile. “It’s no use. He blocked me.” 4 When it rains, it pours. The director of the TV series I was currently prepping for called. Over the phone, he stammered awkwardly: “Chloe, listen, I just feel like this role isn’t the right fit for you anymore. Let’s just pass on this one, and we’ll definitely collaborate next time…” I stood there, holding the phone, completely stunned. This show was my biggest project of the year. I loved the lead character’s arc, and I had fought incredibly hard to secure the role. To make sure I nailed the performance, I had turned down every other offer for the past six months to focus solely on studying the script at home. I panicked. “Director Reynolds, we already signed the contract! “And this isn’t our first time working together. You know my work ethic. How could you recast me over some baseless internet rumors?” Besides, if they recast the lead right now, wouldn’t that just solidify the rumor that I was a homewrecker? Director Reynolds sounded conflicted. “I know you’re professional, Chloe. But… did you offend someone? The production studio explicitly called and told us to replace you! “You know I have no choice here! “But listen, I’m setting up a dinner tonight. You can come and try to beg them. See if they’re willing to reconsider.” I wiped a hand over my face. “Fine. I understand. Thank you, Director Reynolds.” … The next day, I nervously arrived at the dinner Director Reynolds had set up. But the moment I walked through the door, I froze. Sitting in the massive VIP room, at the head of the table, wasn’t some fat, balding studio executive. It was someone I recognized so well I could spot his ashes in a pile of dust. Liam Hayes. He was wearing a tailored navy-blue suit, the top two buttons of his white shirt undone. Under the shimmering crystal chandelier, his flawless features looked almost unreal. He sat there like an icy, untouchable god. Director Reynolds clearly hadn’t expected that the investment firm backing the show belonged to Liam either. He shot me an apologetic, awkward smile. It made sense. Liam’s asking price was astronomical now. He was a brilliant actor with the face of a pop idol. Any movie with his name attached was guaranteed box-office gold. His schedule was booked solid for the next two years. He had probably made a fortune and started his own production company. I had worked with Director Reynolds multiple times and we were somewhat friendly. He was willing to do me a solid, trying to smooth things over with Liam with a smile. “Liam, this is Chloe, our former female lead. You guys are probably familiar, so I won’t bother introducing you. “I brought her here today so she could properly apologize for however she offended you in the past. She’s young and made mistakes. She’s had a tough time these past few years, please don’t hold it against her…” “Chloe.” Director Reynolds waved me over. “Come on, let’s offer a toast to Liam.” I walked over stiffly. Director Reynolds shoved a glass of whiskey into my hand. Liam just stared at me blankly, his expression full of contempt. “Hurry up, Chloe!” Director Reynolds urged. I held the glass, standing there frozen like a statue. Humiliation crawled up my ankles like poison ivy, wrapping tightly around me. How laughable. I gripped the glass so tight my fingertips hurt. Me? Apologize? What did I have to apologize for? Was I too stupid? Was I too deeply in love, eagerly handing him the knife so he could brutally stab me until I bled? What exactly was my crime? “Chloe, what are you waiting for?!” Director Reynolds was getting anxious and gave me a slight push. Liam crossed his legs, watching me with leisurely amusement. “Ms. Miller doesn’t seem to want to drink this. If you’re so reluctant, why are you still standing here?” His gaze felt like a scalpel, slowly slicing me to pieces right where I stood. But I couldn’t leave. I needed this role too badly. If I was recast now, not only would my last six months of work be wasted, but it would be the final nail in the coffin regarding the current PR disaster. It could genuinely ruin my entire future! If Liam added fuel to the fire and publicly confirmed I was a homewrecker, I was completely finished. After a long time, I slowly raised the glass. I could almost hear the dry friction of my joints grinding together. “I’m sorry. I was wrong in the past… Please, be the bigger person and let me go.” With that, I downed the whiskey in one gulp. The hard liquor burned down my throat, slicing my insides like a razor. But Liam didn’t give me an inch. He just scoffed. “You think one glass of whiskey is enough to buy a leading role? Ms. Miller thinks a bit too highly of herself.” My voice started to tremble. “Then what do you want?” He put two fingers together and casually waved behind him. An assistant came forward with two bottles of whiskey, filling a row of ten shot glasses to the brim. The color drained from everyone’s faces in the room, but this was Liam’s turf. No one dared to speak up. He tilted his head back slightly, narrowing his eyes at me. “Ten glasses. Finish them, and the role is yours.” I suddenly felt dizzy. The last time someone had said that exact sentence to me was two years ago, when I was fighting to get Liam a role. That balding producer had looked at me with predatory eyes and said, “Ten glasses. Finish them, and I’ll give him the role!” And now, the person saying those words was Liam. Director Reynolds’s face changed. “Liam, Chloe isn’t in great health. She can’t drink that much. How about—” Liam just shot him a freezing glare. “Director Reynolds, do you still want the funding for your show?” Director Reynolds immediately shut his mouth and shot me a deeply sympathetic look. I stood in silence for a moment, then tilted my head back and downed the first glass. The clear liquor carried a sharp, stinging burn, bringing tears to the corners of my eyes. My stomach began to spasm. The familiar, agonizing pain started creeping in. “One.” Liam leaned back in his chair, a mocking smile playing on his lips. Glass after glass went down. My vision started to blur. I don’t know why. I suddenly wanted to break down and sob. I desperately wanted to ask him: what unforgivable crime had I committed by loving him? Why did he hate me this much?! But I couldn’t cry. Tears are a weapon that only works on someone who loves you. In front of him, it would only strip away my last shred of dignity. The cramps in my stomach grew more and more violent. Back then, the doctor had sternly warned me that I could never binge drink like this again. But I had no choice. By the time I reached the third glass, I couldn’t tell if it was my imagination, but Liam’s expression seemed to change. He looked angry, his face dark as he stared at me intently. But by the seventh glass, I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I dropped the glass and stumbled out the door like a complete mess! Before I even made it to the restroom, I threw up everything right there in the hallway. The piercing pain in my stomach made it impossible to stand up straight. My vision went black for a long time before I managed to use the wall to pull myself up. My face was covered in tears from the dry heaving and the agony, but I couldn’t tell if it was my stomach or my heart that hurt more. I just felt so much pain. It hurt so much I felt like I was going to die. When I finally forced myself to stumble back into the room, Liam had already stepped out. He saw my wretched state. He froze for a second, then his face returned to its icy mask. I fought through the excruciating pain, my voice shaking. “Liam… is there… is there any other way? I really can’t drink anymore.” Liam stood there for a moment, then suddenly let out a soft chuckle. A few seconds later, he stepped closer, whispering softly in my ear: “I suddenly find myself missing Ms. Miller’s body. Why don’t you spend the night with me, and the leading role is yours. What do you say?” I never imagined he would say something so vile! I gritted my teeth. “What about Olivia? Aren’t you with her?” “You think you’re worthy of mentioning her name?” Liam sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself into thinking I want to get back together with you. I’m just bored. I just wanted to see what it feels like again.” The air around me seemed intent on suffocating me. It vanished, making it impossible to breathe. I blinked my burning eyes, and finally, that humiliating tear fell. Liam looked like he had been burned. A complex expression flashed across his face. Once the floodgates opened, the tears couldn’t be stopped. I didn’t care anymore. I just embraced my shattered pride, looking up at him with a tear-streaked face. I choked on my words. “Liam, do you know what my biggest regret in this life is?” He froze, a trace of almost imperceptible anticipation flashing in his eyes. “What?” I enunciated every word clearly: “My biggest regret in this life is ever meeting you.” 5 I didn’t stick around to see Liam’s expression turn murderous. I turned and stumbled away. In the long, brightly lit hallway, I let the tears fall silently. I decided that this would be the absolute last time I ever cried for him in this lifetime. … My stomach issue flared up badly, and I spent three days in the hospital recovering. I ultimately lost the role. Liam gave it to Olivia. When the show aired, it was a massive hit just as I had predicted. Even though Olivia’s performance was mediocre at best, Liam pulled strings to secure her an Emmy for Best Actress. Meanwhile, because of the “homewrecker” scandal, my career hit rock bottom. For a long time, I couldn’t even book a supporting role. To get any work at all, I had to attend the industry networking dinners I used to despise. Maybe it was a twisted joke of fate, but at one of those dinners, I ran into Olivia and Liam, who were there together. Olivia was currently riding the hype of her relationship with Liam and the success of her new TV show. She was the star of the moment, and many actors and directors were hovering around her, offering compliments. “We really have to hand it to Olivia. Beautiful and talented. No wonder she won the Emmy.” “Exactly! And she has such an amazing boyfriend. She’s winning at life!” Most people in the room knew about the bad blood between us, and some purposely stepped on me to kiss up to her: “Unlike some people. Fighting tooth and nail and ending up with absolutely nothing. Some people don’t have to fight or scheme and just have everything handed to them. There’s no comparison!” Olivia’s lips curled into a smug smile. “That’s true. What’s yours is yours. Nobody can steal it. What isn’t yours… forcing it won’t help. “Right, Liam?” The color drained from my face. From start to finish, Liam didn’t even glance at me. He just casually nodded. “Right.” “Oh, by the way, I heard that supporting role that made Liam famous back in the day was actually secured by Olivia! You two really built each other’s success!” “Yeah, isn’t everyone online calling it a fairy-tale romance? It’s all over TikTok. Even I couldn’t help but binge the edits!” … I froze, looking up at Liam. His eyes were soft and smiling. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be where I am today without Olivia.” As he said it, the two of them held hands, drawing cheers and hoots from the crowd. Of everyone in the room, only my agent and I weren’t smiling. She grabbed my hand tightly, forcing her voice down as she hissed furiously in my ear: “Didn’t you get him that role?! How the hell did it become Olivia’s doing?!” I didn’t know. Watching them act so sickeningly sweet, I couldn’t speak a single word. I just felt lost. I desperately wanted to run away from this room. Olivia’s gaze landed on me, carrying unconcealed contempt and triumph. Right at that moment, an investor sitting nearby suddenly spoke up: “Everyone says there’s no true love in Hollywood anymore, but I don’t think that’s true. “I remember back in the day, when Ms. Miller was trying to secure a role for her boyfriend, she drank until her stomach started bleeding and she ended up in the ER. I actually happened to be at that dinner.” I vaguely remembered this investor. I think we had dinner together once back then. I heard he later left the industry to start a tech business, so he probably wasn’t up to speed on all the current Hollywood drama. Liam froze for half a second, then snapped his head to look at me. The sheer disbelief on his face almost made him lose his composure. The investor, seemingly intrigued, asked, “How are things with you and your boyfriend now? Is his career doing well?” The crystal lights flickered over the crowded, noisy room. For a moment, I felt like the people around me were fading away. My world was completely silent. After a long pause, I spoke. “His career is doing great. But we’re broken up.” The investor looked surprised. “Why? You seemed so in love with him back then. I remember you were about to pass out, but you kept holding onto that producer, refusing to let go until he promised to give him the role!” Every single eye in the room was locked onto me. Some were shocked, some were mocking, some were just enjoying the drama. All the color vanished from Olivia’s face. She forced a smile and tugged on Liam’s arm. “Liam, I suddenly don’t feel well. Let’s go.” This time, Liam didn’t respond to her. He just stared dead at me. The emotions swirling in his eyes were unreadable to me, but they looked like a violent storm! His knuckles turned white from gripping his wine glass so tightly. I forced a smile, but it felt shattered, incapable of holding its shape. Those memories… having them laid bare in front of the people involved didn’t give me any vengeful thrill. I just felt exhausted. It was all in the past. What was the point of dragging it up again? An actress sitting next to me, who I was on good terms with, felt bad for me and asked pointedly: “Do you regret it now? Working so hard for someone else, only to end up making the wedding dress for another bride?” The edges of Liam’s eyes slowly turned red. I could feel his gaze practically burning a hole through me! I lowered my eyelashes and said softly: “There’s nothing to regret. “I’ve let it go.”

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I chased Jaxon for ten years, cleaning up after his endless parade of girlfriends, until this time. I had a conflict with a girl in the restroom, and Jaxon rushed in with his entourage of friends. After examining the minor injuries on Avery’s body, Jaxon stood up, his face ice-cold: “Stella, apologize to her.” 1 I almost couldn’t believe what I was hearing. The women’s restroom. It was packed with Jaxon and his frat-bro friends. The girls outside were too scared to come in, and the crowd stared at me with eyes full of mockery or secondhand embarrassment. I shook the water off my hands and explained calmly, “I didn’t push her.” There were no cameras in the restroom, and this girl was clearly banking on that. Avery offered a bitter, fragile smile, gently tugging at Jaxon’s sleeve. “It really was me being careless.” “Stella, I’ll say it one more time—apologize!” Jaxon roared, grabbing my arm. In my twenty-five years of life, my dignity had never been trampled on like this. One of his friends stepped forward, looking uncomfortable. “Jaxon, come on, this is Stella…” “What makes you think she’s any different?” Jaxon raised his voice, glaring dead at me. “She’s just a dog!” The blood in my veins seemed to freeze instantly. Memories wrapped in raw emotion flooded my mind. The insecurities and terrors that kept me awake on countless late nights finally materialized, slapping me hard across the face. A few girls whispered among themselves; some even suppressed a laugh. Jaxon’s friends, who had always disliked me, were secretly gloating. I stared at the face in front of me, a tidal wave of bitter sorrow overturning in my chest. When someone tried to intervene and break up the fight, Jaxon refused to let me go. I lowered my eyes, clenched my left fist, and slapped him across the face as hard as I could! 2 Jaxon froze. My eyes were red as I looked straight through him. Leaning in close, I whispered, “I’m a dog? Then you’re a son of a b*tch.” 3 Jaxon and I grew up together as childhood friends. Our family backgrounds used to be evenly matched. When we were ten, his family fell from grace. His father was sentenced to prison, and from then on, he lived with my family. Because I liked him, I was always chasing after him, catering to his every need. You could say that the crushing inferiority he felt from the world’s cruelty back then was slowly healed by my daily, unwavering devotion. Gradually, his silence shifted from submissive to aloof. Years later, his father was released from prison. With the help of my dad and several old connections, he made a triumphant return to Wall Street, reclaiming his empire. And Jaxon? He became the untouchable, high-and-mighty golden boy. Jaxon’s mother had poor health and had been living in an expensive sanatorium for years. The only way he and his mother survived those dark years was entirely through us, definitely not from his father’s frozen assets. So when I told him he was a son of a b*tch raised by me, I wasn’t bullying him. I was stating a fact. Jaxon’s eyes went wide, his breathing turning ragged. “Stella, that’s going too far, don’t you think?” Off to the side, Carter Evans couldn’t help but frown. “Blackmailing Jaxon all these years using the favor your parents did for him as a kid—isn’t it time to drop it? Besides, how clean are you, really?” A sharp jolt shot through my brain. I shot a lethal glare at Carter. Jaxon’s face changed in a rare display of panic. He opened his mouth to speak. I stared dead at Carter. “What do you mean by that?” Carter smirked, an arrogant, careless look on his face. He exchanged a glance with the guys around him, and suddenly, they all looked at me with cold, disdainful mockery. They… what did they know? 4 I stared fixedly at the man in front of me. It made sense now. He knew exactly what I cared about, exactly where it hurt the most, which was why he deliberately twisted the knife there. Avery stepped forward. “Jaxon, let it go.” Jaxon stood completely still. Carter, seeing that this drama was about to be brushed over, yelled out like he was enjoying a show: “Jaxon, you aren’t gonna say it? Fine, I’ll say it! This girl, Stella, started off using childhood favors to chain you down. Then, she gets assaulted, you play the hero and save her, and she uses that to leech off you forever! Have you ever seen someone so shameless?!” Boom. If earlier I only suspected Jaxon didn’t love me, in this moment, I was absolutely certain of it. He hated me. The scene from the past flashed before my eyes. I clenched my fists, taking a deep breath, but my entire body felt like it was about to collapse. Assaulted? Is that how he understood it? Is that how he told the story to everyone else? The restroom fell into chaotic whispers. A crack appeared in Jaxon’s expression. He tried to grab me, but I dodged. Bending over, I could barely catch my breath. In a spot where Jaxon couldn’t see, Avery shot me a triumphant, gloating look. It seemed she knew about it too. I licked my dry lips and picked up my purse. As I brushed past Jaxon, my eyes were bloodshot. I couldn’t help it. Being bitten by the wolf pup I raised with my own hands actually hurt. I gave him one last look, offering a faint smile as I pulled out my phone, blocked and deleted every single contact method I had for him, and dropped the phone back into my bag. “I won’t apologize. You deserve each other. May we never meet again.” 5 Jaxon and I shared the exact same social circle, overlapping from childhood to the present day. When we were kids, we went to the same elite prep school. In high school, we shared the same AP Physics and Calculus classes. Even setting aside our parents’ business ties, the shared history of growing up together meant our lives were deeply intertwined. So even though I deleted him, I knew avoiding him completely and blocking out all news of him would be impossible. I went home. I slept for two days. When I finally checked my phone, I saw comforting messages from my best friend, Gia, mocking texts from Jaxon’s friends, and passive-aggressive posts from trust-fund kids in my feed. And, of course, Avery’s latest Instagram post: “I knew you would protect me.” The photo showed Jaxon’s large hand tightly gripping her delicate, pale fingers. A classic aesthetic of strength and vulnerability. This time, I felt absolutely nothing. I drove to work, only to run straight into Avery in the lobby. Dressed in sharp business attire but sporting a fragile, doe-eyed look, she was brought to my office by the HR manager for orientation. I froze, flipping through her file. “Who authorized bringing her into the company?” The HR manager looked incredibly awkward. “Mr. Brooks arranged for her to join. He asked that you mentor her and familiarize her with our operations. She’s… assigned to you.” After Richard Brooks was released from prison, my father naturally went into business with him. This company was a joint venture between our families. It was meant for our mutual benefit, and also to lay the groundwork for my future marriage to Jaxon. Now, Jaxon held the title of CEO, and I was the Vice President. He had blatantly planted his new girlfriend right under my nose. Avery lowered her head. “My family is going through a tough time, and my last job didn’t work out. I had to bother Jaxon for a favor. Ms. Wright, where should I start?” The girl’s eyes shimmered with feigned innocence, but the undisguised thrill of victory leaked through. I dropped the file on my desk. I originally thought that after vowing never to see Jaxon again, I’d just resign, hire a professional to manage my shares, and take a long vacation. I didn’t expect him to march right up and deliver another slap to my face. He really didn’t want me to have a moment of peace, did he? I walked right up to Avery. Her bold demeanor shrank slightly, as if she was terrified I was going to slap her. But she was too disgusting. I didn’t even have the desire to touch her. I gave a short laugh. “You can start by packing your things and getting the hell out.” “This company changes ownership next month… Consider yourself fired.” With that, I walked around her and headed out. It took Avery a few seconds to process what happened. She frowned and yelled, “Jaxon won’t allow this!” I turned my head and replied, “Him? He’s just a dog my family used to feed. Who does he think he is?” 6 There were a lot of people around, and I was sure many heard it and would pass it along to Jaxon. Good. Once I stepped into the elevator, all the energy drained from my body. Ten years of feelings. Even if I poured my heart into an abyss without a single echo, we didn’t have to draw blades against each other. But remembering what Jaxon said to me that day, even as I logically told myself to remain dignified and composed, the sour grief still surged violently upward, making me tremble. “Ahem.” The elevator stopped on the third underground parking level. Accompanied by a cough from behind, I realized in shock that there was someone else in the car. My eyes widened as I looked back. A man was casually leaning against the elevator wall, holding a coffee by the rim with a few fingers. He tilted his head and looked at me. “Excuse me?” I was blocking the door. I didn’t recognize him until he walked out. Dominic Evans. The professional executive manager I had hired. My subordinate. I hoped to God he hadn’t heard my meltdown. 7 Jaxon showed up at my door faster than I expected. He completely ignored my authority, forcing Avery to take a desk right outside my office. The very next day, she personally delivered a stack of documents to me. “Hurry up. The CEO is waiting,” Avery said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, looking both arrogant and aloof. I threw the files directly in her face. Following Avery’s dramatic screams, crying, and the shocked stares of the entire office, Jaxon stormed in. The veins on his forehead were pulsing. “Stella, I gave you an inch and you took a mile! What is your problem? She’s my person, how dare you touch her?” I was so angry I actually laughed. I didn’t want to argue in front of the whole office about what our “relationship” actually was after all those years of me catering to him and his refusal to set boundaries. It was too degrading. I stood up. Before the real confrontation began, a figure walked over and knocked on the door. Dominic stepped in, handed me a file, and glanced at Avery. He said smoothly, “The CEO assigning subordinates to the VP without her approval is quite inappropriate. Internal warfare among top executives makes a lot of noise. It’s bound to alarm the Board of Directors.” He gave a faint smile and looked at Jaxon. “Given VP Wright’s temper, if you try to force someone on her, you’ve got to use corporate protocol. Otherwise, she won’t just be throwing files. What if she decides to throw acid next time?” I didn’t know if his tone was just too casual, but a few people nearby actually struggled to hold back their laughter, their faces twitching before they regained their composure. The underlying message was clear: If Jaxon wanted to make me look bad, he had to go through our parents. He only dared to throw tantrums in private because he didn’t have the guts for a real corporate war. Jaxon froze for a second, about to erupt. I stared at Dominic’s devastatingly handsome face and hooked my arm through his. “I’m not entirely sure about this section of the report. Come over here and walk me through it. As for the rest of you, what are you waiting for? If you force a person I didn’t hire to stay here, you’ll have to start worrying about her physical safety. As for her, does she want a job, or does she want her dignity? You pick for her, Jaxon.” Both Avery and Jaxon looked shocked. One was pale with anger. The other stared darkly at my hand linked through Dominic’s arm. Jaxon left. Before he walked out, he sneered at me and whispered, “Stella, are you absolutely sure you want to escalate this to our parents?” I sat down. It felt like someone had fired a bullet straight into my chest. Bang. Flesh and blood flying everywhere. 8 My family did indeed owe Jaxon an immense debt of gratitude, but that was strictly limited to the time before his father was released from prison. Before his father went to prison, my family was not as wealthy as the Brooks family. After he got out, within six or seven years, Richard Brooks dominated Wall Street once again. Business naturally has its ups and downs. One day, my mom said to me, “Things have been tough these past few years. Thank God we still have your relationship with Jaxon to lean on.” Looking at the wrinkles that seemed to have appeared on her face out of nowhere, the urge to pour out my grievances was instantly sealed shut. “You’re so lucky, Stella. After what you went through, Jaxon still doesn’t look down on you. Child, you need to learn to be content.” I couldn’t utter a single word. A massive, gaping hole tore open in my chest, the cold wind howling through, bleeding endlessly. That incident. How did it suddenly become my fault? Especially when Jaxon knew exactly what really happened. 9 The tension between Jaxon and me finally reached its breaking point. That night, there was a high-society gala. Everyone in our circle was attending. Even Jaxon’s father stepped off a plane and headed straight there. I was dreading it. Working late at the office, I delayed going, until Dominic, who was sitting nearby, glanced at his watch. “It’s almost time. Aren’t you going to change into your dress?” He had these captivating, peach-blossom eyes that seemed to naturally flirt with everyone he looked at. Yet, when he worked, he was cold, composed, and decisive. He constantly switched between being an illusion and a harsh reality. Dominic looked up, glancing at the designer dress box. “Dusty pink. It’ll look good on you.” I had been anxious all night, but suddenly I froze. My plus-one for the gala was supposed to be Jaxon. But a few minutes ago, my assistant texted me saying Jaxon and Avery had already gone inside together and had met up with Richard Brooks. All my business partners were in there. The genuine ones, the fake ones, the ones hoping for an alliance between me and Jaxon, and the ones waiting for me to fail—they were all inside. It wasn’t that I didn’t have best friends, but most of them weren’t in this elite circle. As for my parents… given our background, how many people really look out purely for their children? I knew exactly what was going to happen tonight, and yet I had no choice but to go. My mind drifted back to when I was thirteen. A gala hosted by my family. Jaxon was dressed immaculately, but he refused to enter the main banquet hall. He sat by the swimming pool in my backyard. I found him and told him to come inside. His eyes were ice-cold. “No need. Those people inside just want to see me as a joke.” I marched up and hugged his arm tightly. “I want to see who dares to laugh at my Jaxon!” I had already been a simp for him for two years. He had always been freezing cold. That was probably one of the very few times I actually moved him. In that moment, the pool rippled under the early summer sun. Jaxon looked down at me in surprise, and in his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own face—flushed red, carrying the unique mix of shyness and bravery only a young girl possesses. Jaxon went inside. After that, his attitude remained frosty. But on the day we went back to school, I forgot to bring milk. He pulled a carton out of his backpack and handed it to me. He had kept it in an insulated bag, and it was still warm. Jaxon placed his hand on the top of my head and said softly, “Drink it.” Because moments where he was genuinely good to me were so incredibly rare, I took those tiny details and analyzed them over and over again throughout the years. And then, bit by bit, they were shattered by his current coldness and ruthlessness, until there was nothing left. I forced myself to stand up and sent Jaxon one last text message: “Jaxon, are you truly going to cut ties with me?” Jaxon replied with a voice memo. “I just proposed to Avery. We are even now. Stop harassing me.” Harassing. Heh. Seeing me smile with such deep sorrow, the man beside me propped his head on his hand and watched me for a long time. Finally, he draped his jacket over my shoulders. “If you’re tired, take a breather before we go. Stella, there’s no rush.” My name had a repetitive sound to it. In that moment, I didn’t want to overthink whether he called me by a nickname. I sat down. I didn’t cry. I just sat in total silence for five minutes. Waiting for the blood to rush away and then flood back into my heart. I finally gave up.

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When she was little, she accidentally bumped her arm and told her grandmother that I had pinched her, causing her grandmother to throw a massive fit at me. When she got older, she constantly skipped class, telling her homeroom teacher that our home environment was too suffocating and that she had depression. Later, she started dating a local thug. I followed her to the rooftop where they were secretly meeting. During an argument with him, she was pushed off the building. I died on the spot trying to save her. But my daughter’s very first reaction was to pull out her phone, record my broken body, and scream for the camera: “Mom, why did you jump?!” When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to her senior year of high school, exactly when she was threatening suicide to elope with that thug. This time, I efficiently packed her bags and set them in front of her: “Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love.” 1 “If you don’t agree to let us be together, I swear I’ll slit my own throat right here and make you clean up my corpse!” The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my daughter holding a kitchen knife to her neck, screaming at me like a maniac. But I knew she had absolutely no intention of killing herself. She was just doing this to force my hand, to make me yield to her increasingly outrageous demands. In my past life, this terrified me so much that my soul practically left my body. I was a hair’s breadth away from dropping to my knees and begging her not to do something stupid. In the end, with tears in my eyes, I agreed to their relationship. To keep her from running away, I even promised to give her a $3,000 monthly allowance. My husband and I only made about $5,000 a month combined. To scrape together that $3,000, I practically lived at the office. I worked overtime every single night until I was so exhausted my vision blurred. And she took our blood, sweat, and tears to fund that thug’s lifestyle, bragging smugly to him: “That old bitch definitely has money hoarded away. I just have to keep pushing her, and she’ll spit it all out.” Thinking of all this, I clenched my fists tightly, turned around, and walked out of the room. “You old bitch! Even if you call Dad, it won’t change anything!” Thinking she had won again, my daughter slammed the knife down on the table with a loud CLANG. After smashing a few teacups to vent her remaining anger, she followed me into my bedroom. “Even if you drop to your knees and beg me, I won’t—” The rest of her sentence died in her throat as she stepped fully into the room. The next second, her voice shot up an entire octave: “What the hell are you doing?” Meeting her shocked stare, I zipped up her suitcase with practiced efficiency and rolled it over to her. “Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love.” Of course you two should be together. After all, your “good days” won’t truly begin until after you get pregnant. 2 My daughter never expected me to react this way. Her red-rimmed eyes widened in sheer disbelief. Seeing that she wasn’t moving, I gave the suitcase another push. “If you don’t leave now, it’s going to get dark. I’ll mail the rest of your stuff to you later.” “You old…” She paused, her meager brain struggling to process the situation. When it finally clicked, she let out a cold scoff. “Hah. To stop me from killing myself, you’re actually willing to agree to me and Tyler?” She waved her hand dismissively, putting on a show of profound generosity. “Forget it. I understand you’re getting old and can’t bear to be without me. I don’t have to leave. However, from now on, you are not allowed to interfere in my life. And you need to deposit $3,000 into my account every month. How I spend it is none of your business.” In that moment, from the bottom of my heart, I felt truly pathetic. From the moment she was born, my husband and I had pampered her. We held her in our mouths, afraid she’d melt; we held her in our hands, afraid she’d break. But to our utter shock, she grew up to be a compulsive liar, constantly making up excuses to demand money. Every time I dropped her off at my mom’s house, my mom would notice cash missing from her wallet afterward. Back then, my husband advocated for a severe punishment so she would learn her lesson. But I believed it was because we hadn’t given her enough of a sense of security. I believed girls should be raised with abundance so they wouldn’t be easily tempted. Over the years, I did everything in my power to give her the best. Whatever other kids had, I made sure she had too. And in the end? I gave my life for her, and her very first reaction was to film a video to create false evidence against me, and then use the tragedy to livestream and make money. “You’re wrong.” I sighed, shook my head, and patted her shoulder. “Mom is getting old. I can’t control you anymore, and honestly, I don’t want to. Starting today, whether you go to school or not is up to you. Who you date is up to you. You can leave this house whenever you want.” “But $3,000 is simply too much. Mom can’t afford it. You should go find someone else to be your mother.” “I knew you were just saying this to spite me! Just you wait, I’m not coming home tonight!” My daughter screamed, slammed the door, and stormed out. She still thought I was just bluffing. 3 Not long after she left, I headed out too. Having been trapped in the role of a mother for too long, I had spent years eating my daughter’s leftovers or the foods she disliked. Tonight, for the first time in forever, I treated myself to a premium steak and a glass of red wine. High-quality beef really is fantastic; no wonder she always demanded to eat it. The service at upscale restaurants is exactly as good as they say. Being taken care of feels completely different than taking care of someone else. Fully satisfied, I even went to see a movie, buying myself popcorn and ice cream. I had almost forgotten—years ago, I was a young girl too. I was also a cherished daughter held in my parents’ palms. When I returned home, I happened to see my daughter standing downstairs, talking to a group of neighbors. From a distance, I could only catch fragments: “My dad’s out of town on a business trip, and my mom is home alone, so naturally…” “If she doesn’t care about me, fine. I’ve been treated like this my whole life anyway. If I starve to death, whatever.” “Now she’s gone out again, who knows with who…” The neighbors were fanning themselves and whispering, shaking their heads judgmentally. It suddenly dawned on me why our neighbors had been giving me such dirty looks over the years. It was probably because my daughter never tired of slandering me behind my back. I had consulted a child psychologist before, learning that some children use lying and performative behavior in early childhood to gain adult attention. But I never expected that my daughter’s compulsive lying and unbridled malice would only escalate as she grew older. She spotted me, let out a loud scoff, and walked away without looking back. I immediately spoke up to clarify: “My daughter just loves to make things up. Everything she says is a lie. I just went out to have dinner by myself.” But no one responded. I turned to ask the neighbors, trying to smooth things over: “Ladies, out enjoying the cool air? Have you all eaten?” But they just gave me a few dismissive hums in response. I knew Rome wasn’t built in a day. The damage was done, and trying to explain myself now was useless. I could only let the truth slowly reveal itself over time. I didn’t say anything else and went upstairs. When I walked into the apartment, I found it completely trashed. Anything that could be smashed was shattered. The drawers were all pulled open and ransacked. It looked like the place had been robbed. My daughter’s messy, hateful handwriting was sprawled across my bedsheets in black marker: [You old bitch, so you won’t give me money, right? I’m staying with my boyfriend tonight! You’re going to regret this!] The life she was willingly destroying was hers, not mine. What did I have to regret? The louder she barked now, the harder reality was going to slap her in the face later. I let out a cold laugh, stripped the ruined sheets, put on fresh ones, and went to sleep. 4 The next day, as soon as I got home, I saw my daughter sitting in the living room with my former best friend, Evelyn. Evelyn was my husband’s junior in college. She used to have a massive crush on him, but after she was rejected, she pivoted and became my “best friend.” She had been in one serious relationship before, but the guy cheated on her and beat her. She had remained single ever since. Ever since my daughter was born, Evelyn was constantly at our house, buying her endless snacks, dolls, and limited-edition gaming consoles. When my daughter was young, if I ever disciplined her, she would immediately call Evelyn. Evelyn would come running over instantly to defend her. As my daughter got older and started talking back to me, she would always say: “You’re so annoying, always nagging me non-stop. Being your daughter is the worst.” “I don’t know how Dad could be so blind to choose you. You’re old and mean. If only Aunt Evelyn were my mom. She’s beautiful, generous, and she’s not cheap like you.” Those words hurt me deeply, but she didn’t care. She genuinely wanted Evelyn to be her mother. Right now, my daughter was leaning tearfully into Evelyn’s embrace, while Evelyn held her hand, comforting her non-stop. From my angle, they looked much more like a mother and daughter than I ever did with her. Hearing me come in, my daughter didn’t even lift her head, loudly exaggerating her accusations: “My mom literally locked me out yesterday. I had nowhere to go all night. My boyfriend was the only one who took me in.” “She refuses to give me food and says she’s cutting off my allowance forever. If she’s so poor, she never should have had a kid!” “I’m just bravely pursuing true love, what did I do wrong?!” Evelyn hugged her tighter by the shoulders: “You did nothing wrong. Your mother is too cruel. It’s the 21st century! Children should have the freedom to love whoever they want. She’s overstepping her bounds.” “Wuwuwu, Aunt Evelyn is the best. You treat me way better than my own biological mother.” Evelyn even suggested that on my daughter’s 18th birthday, she would formally adopt her as her goddaughter. My daughter agreed with immense joy. Listening to all of this, I just wanted to laugh. Besides the parents who gave you life and raised you, does anyone in this world truly treat a stranger well for no reason? I ignored the commentary and walked in with a smile: “Honey, Mom knows that no matter what I say, you won’t believe me. So, I decided to prove it with actions.” I paused, then spoke slowly: “When Mom went out yesterday, it was entirely for you. I already spoke with Tyler’s parents and arranged your engagement. I’m not asking for a single cent in a dowry. As soon as you two hit the legal age, you can get married.” “Your 18th birthday is coming up. Mom is going to throw a massive coming-of-age party for you. We’ll invite Tyler, and let everyone witness your happiness!” My daughter’s eyes widened, her face a picture of sheer shock and absolute delight. She was so excited she couldn’t speak. But what I didn’t expect was that Evelyn’s wrist would suddenly jerk, her face turning an incredibly ugly shade of pale. 5 Evelyn knew my daughter’s temperament well, and she knew me well enough to realize that I was being completely serious. Meeting my scrutinizing gaze, she opened her mouth to say something, but ultimately couldn’t force out a single word. “Mom, this is the right thing to do. Now this is the Mom I know. I had no idea what was wrong with you before.” My daughter raised an eyebrow, then pointed at Evelyn and said: “I want to officially acknowledge Aunt Evelyn as my godmother. We should hold the ceremony during my party too.” My daughter always spoke to me in that commanding, entitled tone, expecting everything to go exactly her way. But she didn’t know that there is a phrase in this world: death by flattery. Her belief that she was about to have a picture-perfect 18th birthday would be the beginning of her utter ruin. I smiled and agreed to everything. In a great mood, my daughter happily asked: “What are you going to do about my wedding gifts, then?” I patted her shoulder. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll be satisfied.” According to the timeline of my past life, by this point, my daughter had already slept with Tyler. Not long from now, on her 18th birthday, she would be eating dinner and suddenly start dry heaving. We’d go to the hospital, and she’d find out she was pregnant. I had felt like the sky was falling back then, begging her to get an abortion and break up with Tyler. But she said: “This is the crystallization of my love with Tyler. I am absolutely keeping it.” Because of this, she dropped out of high school, completely cut ties with my husband and me, and happily moved into Tyler’s house. In my past life, because she was pregnant, Tyler only reluctantly agreed to take responsibility under intense pressure from his parents. Wasn’t that baby the best possible wedding gift for my daughter? 6 That afternoon, coming down from my office building, I unexpectedly ran into my husband, who had been out of town on a business trip. He was still rolling his suitcase, clearly having just rushed back. “Why are you here?” I walked up to him. He didn’t look happy. He handed me a warm bag of roasted chestnuts and spoke with a dark expression: “Fiona, why did you agree to let her get engaged to Tyler? Weren’t you always against it? Don’t you know what kind of person Tyler is?” I didn’t answer his question. Instead, I asked: “How did you find out about this?” My daughter definitely wouldn’t have told him, afraid he would object. If my husband knew, someone must have specifically sought him out to tell him. Right on cue, as soon as I spoke, Evelyn stepped out from the side. She sighed dramatically. “Fiona, I’m not trying to lecture you, but what kind of biological mother pushes her own child into a fire pit?” “It’s fine if kids just want to date and have fun, but for marriage, how could you let her settle for someone like that?” “Mark, you need to talk to her. What will people think when they find out? Isn’t she ruining the child’s entire life?!” Evelyn reached out to grab my husband’s arm, but he took a quick step back to avoid her. He came over, took my purse for me, and spoke with his back to Evelyn: “This is our family’s private business. Thank you for telling me, but my wife and I will discuss the rest when we get home.” Evelyn, who had been passionately lecturing me, was completely caught off guard by my husband throwing cold water on her. Her outstretched hand hung stiffly in the air, and her eyes slowly grew dark. My husband had already put his arm around my shoulder, just like he used to, and said softly to me: “I know our daughter has been driving you crazy, and you made a bad decision in a moment of anger. I’ve been working really hard lately, and my boss is about to give me a promotion and a raise. I know you’re a loving mother. From now on, you don’t have to worry about her allowance anymore.” Using the same coaxing tone he used when we were first dating, he said: “Be good. Let’s go home to talk. If anyone bullied you, tell me, and I’ll help you teach them a lesson!” All the grievances I had suffered recently surged into my heart because of his words. For a second, my eyes stung, and I wanted nothing more than to lean on his shoulder and cry. He only knew our daughter was rebellious and unruly; he had no idea I had been genuinely killed by her in a past life. If I told him the truth now, he probably wouldn’t believe me, but I would definitely find an opportunity to make him see the reality. Seeing my husband leading me away, Evelyn panicked and tried to step in front of us again. I couldn’t help but look at her sarcastically: “Evelyn, you’re always so invested in my daughter’s affairs. If people didn’t know better, they’d think you were her biological mother. Since that’s the case, why don’t you go ahead and arrange her wedding gifts too.” I don’t know which of my words triggered her, but Evelyn’s eyes suddenly darted around in panic. She muttered, “What are you talking about? I watched Mia grow up; of course my heart aches for her.” I didn’t even bother replying, just let my husband lead me away. … When we got back that day, I only said one sentence to my husband: “You travel a lot, so you don’t know what I’ve had to live through at home. If you dare try to convince me otherwise or stop me, then our marriage is over.” My husband was terrified. Seeing how absolutely resolute I was, he finally just sighed: “I married you. You are the most important person in my life. As for the kid, since she’s willing, then let her do whatever she wants.”

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The moment the plane stalled and entered a nosedive, my boyfriend—the captain—instinctively called out to his co-pilot, his “first love”: “If we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn’t it?” Later, their textbook emergency landing became a legendary tale in the aviation world, while I, the air traffic controller who guided them from the tower, voluntarily resigned. A long time later, we crossed paths again. It was a flight he was commanding. Over the cabin PA, he announced that he had been waiting for someone to come home. I stood at the end of the jet bridge, waiting for him to disembark. When he finally appeared, I smiled and asked: “Captain Carter, haven’t you and Ms. Davis picked out a plot together yet? Are you short on cash for the urns?” 1 I met Ryan Carter in college. I had just graduated and was assigned to the busiest air traffic control tower in the country, Chicago O’Hare. During the evening rush hour, a massive thunderstorm hit. Two planes, circling in the holding pattern, started arguing over the radio about who had priority to land. “Alright, that’s enough! Yelling until your voices are hoarse isn’t going to help. You’re two grown men flying commercial airliners, are you really arguing like children up there? You’re in a hurry? We’re in a bigger hurry down here in the tower!” Ryan’s cool, deep voice cut through the radio waves, carrying a powerful, calming energy that instantly settled my nerves. He was a prodigy pilot for Horizon Air, promoted to Captain in just his fourth year, yet he only flew the most grueling, exhausting short-haul domestic routes. During every shift we shared, I’d hear him over the radio: “Good morning, O’Hare,” “Good afternoon,” “Good evening.” Later, it evolved into: “Good evening. I’ll wait for you, let’s go home together.” I was the one who confessed my feelings first. We lived together for five years. He was the perfect boyfriend—tall, handsome, gentle, and incredibly disciplined. Even when flying red-eye routes, surrounded by female colleagues offering him snacks and coffee, he would only drink the terrible, bitter ginger tea I made for him. “I’m spoken for. I have someone waiting for me at home. I’ll have to pass on the treats.” Ryan’s phone was always open to me. We shared our schedules, our locations, and our social circles. I thought there were no secrets between us. But on an ordinary morning, during a lull in air traffic, my trainee suddenly leaned over with some gossip: “Hey, did you know that the gorgeous co-pilot flying with your boyfriend today is Chloe Davis? I heard she’s a legend. She turned down offers from Delta and United just to fly for Horizon. She’s so badass, I love her.” I froze for a second, asking him to repeat the co-pilot’s name. Chloe. It wasn’t an uncommon name, but it immediately triggered a memory. It was the name that had been sitting in the background banner of Ryan’s Facebook profile for five years. Ryan rarely posted, but I had once asked him about the tiny text in the bottom right corner of his banner image: “Wait, Chloe.” He just smiled, brushed it off, and said he just thought the picture looked cool. I didn’t want to overthink it, but could it really just be a coincidence? “Flight HZ3400? HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Can anyone on this frequency try to hail HZ3400?” My trainee’s frantic voice snapped me back to reality. My eyes shot to the radar screen. HZ3400, which should have been cruising at 35,000 feet and had just entered O’Hare airspace, had suddenly lost contact with the ground and was rapidly losing altitude. And that was the flight Ryan was commanding. 2 “HZ3400, if you copy, please respond. Your altitude is dropping rapidly. HZ3400, can you hear me?” My trainee’s voice was shaking uncontrollably. He looked at me, his eyes pleading for help. In those crucial ten seconds, my mind went completely blank. Relying purely on muscle memory, I took over his headset and microphone. I repeated the call sign over and over, operating like a precision machine, flawlessly executing the emergency protocols drilled into me from the manual. The altitude kept dropping. The moment ground fire and EMS crews were dispatched to the runway, the image of Ryan hugging me before he left for work flashed in my mind: “If your cold gets worse, just call out sick. Sleep in, and I’ll make you some soup when I get home tonight.” If he and the hundreds of living, breathing people on that plane disappeared right in front of my eyes… I knew I would have a complete mental breakdown right there in the tower. Static. Then, HZ3400’s radio crackled to life. I immediately initiated contact, transmitting crucial information and requesting the status of the aircraft and passengers. But despite my repeated questions, the only thing that came through the radio was Ryan’s deep, emotional murmur: “Chloe, if we really end up buried in the same piece of earth, I guess this counts as growing old together, doesn’t it?” The signal was terrible, the audio was weak, but to me, it was deafening. Responsibility. Duty. In that moment, it seemed they had abandoned it all. He was willing to intertwine his fate with hers, to follow her into death. So what did that make me? And what about the hundreds of lives on board? Were they just giving up on them? 3 At 5:30 AM, HZ3400 executed a miraculous, textbook emergency landing at O’Hare, pushing the aircraft to its absolute limits. The flight crew’s god-tier maneuvers instantly went viral, becoming the explosive headline of the day. But what immediately followed was an investigation and a search for accountability. The O’Hare tower was downgraded to a regional control center. This should have had absolutely nothing to do with us, but because the incident occurred within my trainee’s frequency block, and because I subsequently took over, we were mandated to participate in the investigation to provide a transparent account to the public. Following the accident, both Ryan and I were too overwhelmed to contact each other. Our first meeting was a full 24 hours later, when the entire flight crew and tower staff were convened to reconstruct the events. That’s when I finally met Chloe Davis. She had a sharp bob, pale skin, and striking features. Her sharp eyebrows gave her a commanding presence, yet there was a subtle, feminine softness to her. When asked if the tower had transmitted the correct information, Chloe decisively shook her head: “I didn’t hear it. Or rather, I didn’t have time to listen to that garbage.” Chloe sat up straight, speaking bluntly without hesitation: “I’m a straight shooter, so I’ll just say it. The female voice from the tower was disorganized, her technical proficiency was severely lacking, and she sounded like she was trying to use a cutesy ‘baby voice’ to flirt. In an emergency situation, it severely impacted my judgment.” “What do you mean you didn’t hear it? Why are you slandering my mentor? She was speaking completely normally! That wasn’t a ‘baby voice’!” I put a hand on my trainee’s shoulder to calm him down, my gaze instinctively shifting to Ryan. He was sitting rigidly upright. From the moment he walked in, his eyes had been blankly fixed on the table, and he actively avoided making eye contact with me several times. I was certain he heard my calls over the radio, and he knew I had heard his confession to Chloe. That’s why he was avoiding me. But the next second, he spoke softly: “I apologize. I was entirely focused on the emergency landing. I don’t remember anything else.” The truth was, the tower had the complete audio recording to back me up. But the flight crew’s conflicting statements and Chloe’s baseless accusations would inevitably prolong the investigation and generate negative press. From the moment Ryan gave that response, I knew our relationship was over. 4 [Mentor, I’m so scared. The tower looks like they’re going to hold someone accountable. I just graduated, I don’t want to lose my job… My parents are sick and need money, what am I going to do…] I hadn’t gone home that day. I spent two days passed out in an airport hotel. When I finally woke up, the only message on my phone was from my trainee. My chat with Ryan was completely empty. Opening social media, the news was absolutely saturated with interviews featuring Ryan and Chloe. They stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the sunlight, accepting endless praise and gratitude. The narrative was that they were college alumni who had faced death together, sharing an extraordinary, unspoken bond. Meanwhile, the hashtag “#OHareTowerIncompetence” was trending in the top fifteen. Clicking on it revealed a flood of hateful comments: [Did Chloe mention someone using a ‘baby voice’? The ATC tower is a serious, high-stress environment. Who the hell was she trying to flirt with? Is she there to work or to pick up men?] [Let me put on my tinfoil hat for a second. Could the incident be related to the ‘baby voice’? Was she trying to compete with Chloe for male attention, so she deliberately withheld information?] [Do the people above me have any common sense? The actual audio hasn’t been released yet. How can you just blindly accuse someone?] [Are the male captain and Chloe a thing? Chloe is so badass and straightforward, but the way the captain looks at her is definitely not purely professional.] … Because of Chloe’s “accidental” slip of the tongue, even before the investigation concluded, public pressure was forcing the FAA to penalize the “baby voice” controller and issue a public apology. And we all knew that cockpit voice recordings are rarely released to the public. Even if internal reviews cleared me, they had to give the public a scapegoat. Chloe was clearly targeting me. [What are you afraid of? The online hate is directed at me. It has nothing to do with you. Just focus on your work.] I replied to my trainee, then proceeded to delete Ryan’s number and block him on everything. I submitted my resignation, turned off my phone, and booked a flight out of the country for a vacation. She really went out of her way. If Chloe wanted a toxic, garbage man that badly, I was more than happy to wrap him up and hand him over. Five days later, a text from an unknown number popped up on my screen: [Give me a little time. Chloe is… different from other people. But our relationship isn’t what you think it is. I just need time to figure out my own feelings.] [I don’t have time.] [What about the apartment? And all your stuff? Are you just abandoning it?] [The lease isn’t up yet, do whatever you want with it. Throw my stuff away. I don’t need the money.] [And what about me? Are you abandoning me too?] I hesitated for a moment before sending my final reply: [Before you ask other people that, take a hard look in the mirror and ask yourself if you even deserve me.] 5 It was a funny coincidence. On my very first day abroad, I ran into someone I knew: Liam Sterling. Four or five professional cameras were set up on the beach. He was leaning casually against the trunk of a weeping willow, posing for a shoot. Dressed in flowing white linen, his slightly wavy hair caught the ocean breeze. He looked like the moon over a mountain or fresh snow on a sunny day—his smile radiating a youthful, effortless charisma. Curious, I stopped to watch for a moment. Liam spotted me instantly and started waving frantically, calling me over like an oversized, over-excited Golden Retriever. We walked to a quiet corner to chat. After exchanging some brief pleasantries, he cut straight to the chase: “I couldn’t reach you on your phone! I need a huge favor, Maya!” (Maya translates to Tang Xian) The Sterling and Miller (Tang) families were old family friends. We were both the youngest children in our respective families, enjoying the most freedom within our wealthy households. Whether he chose to be an A-list actor or I chose to be a modestly paid air traffic controller, no one intervened. Since Liam’s acting career blew up, we rarely kept in touch. But right now, he looked desperate enough to hug my leg and beg: “I just want to focus on acting, but my agency keeps forcing me into fake showmance PR stunts! Please pretend to be my civilian girlfriend and help me out! Out of everyone I know, you’re the only one I trust!” “A celebrity wanting to publicly date?” “I don’t rely on rabid fangirls for my career. Can’t a normal 27-year-old guy have a 28-year-old civilian girlfriend?” I was still hesitating when my phone rang. It was the director of the ATC tower, sounding frantic: “Maya! Did I approve your resignation? I haven’t retired yet, since when is it your turn to resign and take the fall for this?!” “Get your ass back here and clock in! When the investigation results come out, we’re going to slap those bastards right in the face!” So I could go back? Alright then. If there was a turning point, I was going to make sure they paid the price. Nobody gets off easy! With that in mind, I smiled and playfully tipped Liam’s chin up: “I’ll help you, and you’ll help me.” 6 Aviation accident investigations take a long time, but the HZ3400 crew’s incredible emergency landing was an undeniable fact, and they received a public commendation. Horizon Air announced that the two captains preferred to keep a low profile and declined further media coverage, which surprisingly earned them another wave of public goodwill. Correspondingly, Maya Miller from the O’Hare Tower was issued one formal demerit. The Tower Director received a severe demerit and a formal reprimand. The specific reasons weren’t made public, but everyone internally knew it was done purely to placate the media. On my first day back at work after the scandal, I had barely finished my evening shift when I was dragged out to a coffee shop for a get-together. The flight crews that frequently flew through O’Hare had a private group chat. We were all pretty close, and everyone was concerned about how I was holding up. As I approached the semi-private booth, a loud, hearty laugh reached my ears. Chloe was there. Her blunt, “open” personality made her very popular in these circles. She easily became “one of the guys,” and she was currently recounting the story of the emergency landing. When I appeared, the atmosphere went dead silent for a second. Chloe, holding an iced Americano, generously pulled me into a seat, telling me not to be shy: “Since we’re all here today, let me formally apologize to Maya.” Chloe spoke before I could, a playful smirk dancing on her lips: “I haven’t been back in the States for long, and my communication skills aren’t great. I’m a bit too blunt. I just felt that Ms. Miller’s voice was incredibly sweet. I had no idea using the wrong words in an interview would cause such a massive headache for her. Please forgive me!” The two female flight attendants at the table remained silent, but the group of male pilots clearly ate up Chloe’s act. They eagerly jumped in to smooth things over, saying it was all water under the bridge. They hadn’t heard the cockpit voice recording. Of course they thought it was fine. “Captain Davis is so young and accomplished. How could I hold a grudge? But no matter how blunt your personality is, when you’re flying into O’Hare, you still have to follow ATC instructions. We have a long road ahead of us.” Chloe froze for a moment, then replied with thinly veiled sarcasm: “I was just making a little joke with Ms. Miller. Why so serious? Ms. Miller seems like she has quite a temper, huh? Come on, guys, teach me how to handle her so I can land safely! I’m so scared she’s going to direct me straight into Lake Michigan, haha!” However, when she finished, the male pilots didn’t laugh. The atmosphere instantly turned icy. After a brief silence, Captain Davis from TransGlobal Airlines spoke up, his tone serious: “Chloe, some jokes shouldn’t be made. Maya’s competence is undeniable. Even with a 102-degree fever, she can flawlessly guide planes in during the evening rush. You don’t know her, so don’t make careless comments.” Chloe immediately took a sip of her coffee to hide her embarrassment. I casually remarked: “Captain Davis is quite confident. Badmouthing me right in front of my friends? I guess that’s just your ‘blunt personality,’ haha.” The group chuckled coldly in agreement. Chloe bit her lower lip in humiliation, her knuckles turning white around her coffee cup. Several flight crews had to leave for their shifts. As they departed, no one even glanced in her direction. The next crew to land was Horizon Air. Ryan was slowly walking over, dragging his flight bag. Chloe’s eyes lit up instantly: “Ryan, over here! Wow, hurry up and translate for me! My English isn’t great, and I think I accidentally offended someone!” 7 Ryan didn’t hesitate: “Chloe hasn’t been back in the country long. If she misspoke, don’t take it to heart. She didn’t mean any harm.” Most of the pilots who had been chatting earlier had already left. Chloe boldly leaned against Ryan’s shoulder, spouting nonsense: “Exactly! I don’t even know what I said to upset Ms. Miller. I didn’t mean any harm!” Ryan’s body stiffened as his eyes found me sitting in the corner. For a moment, he looked completely panicked. A flight attendant named Lily spoke up: “Chloe, do you think we’re deaf? Is that really what you said earlier?” Chloe didn’t care. She even shot me a provocative look. It was Ryan’s subconscious trust and protectiveness that gave her the confidence to show off. She acted like a victor returning home after five years, easily reclaiming the man’s heart. I lowered my eyes, grabbed Lily’s hand, and smiled: “Since the main characters are all here, why don’t we ask them to tell us the story of what happened that day?” Ryan hadn’t expected me to bring it up. He instinctively frowned. “I was losing my mind in the tower that day. I kept calling HZ3400, asking if they could hear me, asking for their status. And then, guess how Captain Carter responded?” In a flash, everyone’s eyes locked onto Ryan. His hesitation made Chloe suddenly panic. She instinctively gripped her coffee cup tighter. “What did you say, Captain Carter? Tell us about your heroic deeds.” The air was silent for a long time. Uncharacteristically, Ryan took three large gulps of his iced Americano before speaking in a devastatingly hoarse voice: “I reported the aircraft’s status… and then focused entirely on managing the emergency. Nothing else.” If emotions had a sound, Chloe’s internal breakdown in that moment would have been deafening. She could no longer maintain her fake smile. The corners of her eyes turned a tearful, humiliated shade of red. Remember this: a cowardly, indecisive, toxic man will hurt the next woman exactly the same way he hurt you. And the debt you two owe me? We’re far from settled.

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When my mom was pregnant with my little brother, a prenatal checkup revealed he had XYY syndrome. Everyone begged her to terminate the pregnancy. My mom cried and flat-out refused. I asked her what “XYY” meant. She said to me, “It means your brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect his big sister.” I half-understood it. Until he was seven years old, and he took a brick and smashed it into my mom’s head over and over again. Then, I finally understood what kind of “man” he was. 1 I was six years old when my mom got pregnant. A few months in, they paid a private clinic to find out the gender. When she found out it was a boy, my mom was ecstatic. Even though my dad always said having his “little princess” was enough, having a son had always been my mom’s ultimate wish. Until the amniocentesis results came back, and everything changed. They said the unborn baby had an XYY karyotype. Also known as “Super Male Syndrome.” I eavesdropped outside the door. My dad was pleading with her to give it up: “Let it go, Sarah. We have Harper, and that’s enough! The doctors said these kids have a very high risk of severe antisocial and aggressive behavior. We can’t raise a kid like that.” Tears streamed down my mom’s face. She shook her head, her hands protectively covering her belly. “No, I can’t do it. Look how big he is already. You want to end your own child’s life just because of something a doctor said?” My dad frowned, at a loss for words. My mom said firmly, “Didn’t we raise Harper to be a wonderful girl? I believe this baby will be fine too. We just need to guide him properly…” My dad, speechless with anger, went out to the patio to smoke, leaving my mom crying with red eyes. I walked over and asked, “Mom, what does ‘Super Male’ mean?” She looked at me sadly, thought for a moment, and said, “It means your little brother is going to be the manliest of men. He’s going to protect his big sister.” I hesitated. “Will you and Dad only love him and not me?” She stroked my hair. “How could that happen? Mom loves you the most.” I smiled. A few months later, my brother Caleb was born. Everyone who saw him praised how beautiful he was. Big eyes, fair skin—he looked like an angel from a greeting card. Whenever someone praised him, my mom beamed with pride. She would say, how could such a cute baby ever be violent? She was going to love him with everything she had. Shielded by my mother’s overwhelming love, Caleb slowly grew up. He babbled, he cooed, and he began to express his emotions. It was just that the way he expressed his emotions was very different from other kids. If he didn’t like the carefully prepared baby food, he would just flip the bowl onto the floor. If a toy car ran out of batteries and stopped moving, he would fly into a rage, stomping on it brutally until it was smashed to pieces. Only when it was utterly destroyed would he smile. He had an extreme destructive urge. His toys never survived a second day. Once the toys were gone, he destroyed other things. It was as if obliterating objects brought him endless joy. No matter how my dad tried to discipline him, it was useless. My mom practiced “positive reinforcement.” “Good boy! Our baby is so strong!” I felt wronged and complained to my mom: “Why do you ground me when I break something, but you never punish Caleb?” My mom sighed. “Caleb is different. You can only guide him gently. Harper, you’re the older sister, you need to be understanding.” I didn’t get it. This was just blatant favoritism. 2 To cultivate a gentle temperament in Caleb, my mom bought us each a pet rabbit. She smiled and said, “You have to treat the bunnies well, okay? They’re living creatures too.” Caleb stroked the rabbit’s ears, looking like he absolutely adored it, and nodded. But the next morning, when my mom went to the patio to change their lettuce, she let out a blood-curdling scream. I rushed out. The rabbit Caleb was given had been sliced completely open and was dead. Its intestines were spilling out all over the cage. Meanwhile, my rabbit was huddled in the corner of its cage, shivering violently, its ears pinned back in terror. Caleb stood behind my mom, smiling as he reached his arms up for a hug. “Mommy, I want another bunny!” I held my rabbit, a violent shudder running down my spine. Ever since Caleb was born, all of my parents’ energy had been focused on him. Even my grandmother moved in specifically to help take care of him. He became the center of the universe that our family revolved around. I have to admit, most of the time he looked no different from any other little boy. He had a sweet smile, loved snacks, and loved cartoons. But a boy who seemed that bright and cheerful could turn into a demon in the very next second. When Grandma told him he couldn’t have more candy, he bit down on her arm with the ferocity of a wild jackal. No matter who pulled at him, he wouldn’t let go. When I was watching cartoons, and Mom went to the balcony to get him, he casually picked up the heavy remote control and smashed it into my head. Blood dripped down my forehead, and he just flashed a look of pure delight. When he finally reached daycare age, my parents spent a fortune to get him into an elite preschool that focused on child behavioral development. But it wasn’t long before the teachers called my parents in. The reason? An older kid had bullied him, making fun of him for being small. Nobody knows where he found it, but during nap time, Caleb snuck into the older kids’ room while the teacher was in the restroom, used a lighter to set the kid’s bedsheets on fire, sprinted out, and locked the door behind him. If the teacher hadn’t returned in time, the consequences would have been catastrophic! The teachers were horrified. “Does your child watch violent movies? I’ve never seen a kid like this in my life! This is terrifying!” Under pressure from the other parents, Caleb was expelled. My parents bowed, apologized endlessly, and paid a massive settlement to make it go away. Caleb stood to the side, biting his fingernails as he watched my parents humiliate themselves, giggling and laughing. The teacher asked him what was so funny. Caleb said, “I wanted to watch you all burn!” All the blood drained from my dad’s face. He slapped Caleb across the face in front of everyone. Caleb was knocked to the ground. He wailed at the top of his lungs. The bystanders watched coldly. Only my mom threw herself on top of him to protect him. “It’s Mommy’s fault! It’s all Mommy’s fault!” 3 My dad and my mom had a massive fight. My dad roared from the bedroom: “We never should have kept him! He’s a monster!” My mom pointed a finger at his nose, screaming hysterically: “Even if he’s a monster, he’s your flesh and blood! He’s already here! What’s the point of saying this now?!” My dad tried to argue but couldn’t find the words. He left my mom crying alone in the room. My mom exhausted herself getting Caleb into another preschool. But instead of just pulling little girls’ hair, he bullied the younger kids, shoving a toddler’s head into the toilet and forcing him to drink the water. Seeing a teacher who was seven months pregnant, Caleb actually told the other kids he wanted to kick her hard in the stomach. Later, he really did it. When the pregnant teacher turned to go to the restroom, he intentionally tripped her. She lost her balance and fell forward. If someone hadn’t caught her in time, it would have been a disaster. The teacher’s husband caused a massive scene, demanding emotional distress compensation and demanding to know how a child so young could be so purely evil. The principal had no choice. She refunded our tuition and practically begged my mom: “Please take your child somewhere else. We can’t handle him. I’ve run this preschool for thirty years, and I’ve never seen a kid like this!” My parents tried everything—bribery, begging—but nothing worked. Finally, my mom gave up. She just had Grandma watch him at home until he was old enough for elementary school. As the only grandson, Grandma spoiled him rotten. Whatever he wanted, she gave him. Because of her age and bad knees, going up and down the stairs of our apartment building was incredibly painful for her. Yet, she would go to the grocery store every single day to buy whatever specific food Caleb craved, never complaining. Who would have thought that one day, just as Grandma returned from buying groceries and reached the top of the stairs, Caleb would come charging out of the apartment, staring at his video game console. He didn’t even try to dodge her. The grocery bags tumbled down the stairs, followed by the heavy thud of Grandma’s body rolling down the flight of steps. Caleb didn’t even look at the grandmother who had just plummeted down the stairs. He just kept playing his game, his laughter echoing through the hallway. I saw the whole thing with my own eyes. Because of that fall, Grandma was paralyzed from the waist down. My dad went crazy, slapping Caleb over and over. He looked like he wanted to murder him. My mom cried and clung to his legs, screaming, “He’s just a child!” My dad roared, “He’s not a child! He’s a monster!” He slumped into a chair, muttering to himself, “We should have aborted him. We should have aborted him.” Caleb glared at him with pure hatred. Only I walked up to my dad. I told him not to be sad, that Grandma would get better. My dad pulled me into a tight hug, tears suddenly falling from his eyes. When I got back from the hospital, I was in a great mood. I hummed a song while feeding my rabbit lettuce. My poor rabbit was still traumatized by the brutal death of its companion; it shivered whenever anyone came near. I shoved the lettuce against its mouth. “Eat.” The rabbit wouldn’t open its mouth. “Why won’t you eat?” Finally, I opened the cage, pried its mouth open, and watched the lettuce go down its throat. Only then did I leave, satisfied. 4 After Grandma was paralyzed, there was another person in the house who needed constant care. To prevent any more “accidents,” my mom quit her job to stay home and look after Caleb and Grandma. No one knows why Caleb pushed Grandma, but according to him, he “thought it was fun.” He had always been like this. Seeing others suffer was fun to him. His joy was built entirely on the pain of others. After being betrayed by her precious grandson, Grandma’s personality completely changed. She stopped talking to Caleb and finally realized my worth. Whenever there was something good to eat, she would call me over and save it for me. She didn’t give Caleb a single ounce of warmth. Caleb caught us talking and sharing snacks several times. He would stare at us with a dark, brooding look: “What are you guys doing?” We stayed silent and didn’t answer. He would turn around and go watch cartoons, and I would breathe a sigh of relief. After that, Caleb became incredibly reckless, completely ignoring the feelings of anyone else in the house. When told he couldn’t light fireworks outside, he decided to light them inside the living room. To prevent him from burning the house down, my mom confiscated all his toys and lighters. Until one day shortly after. Grandma was taking a nap, and my mom and I went to the supermarket. My mom warned Caleb: “Do not go near the kitchen. Stay in the living room and wait for us, you hear me?” Caleb gave a sweet, innocent smile and agreed. An hour later, when we returned, we smelled smoke before we even opened the door. Panicking, my mom threw the door open. The house was filled with smoke. She screamed Caleb’s name like a madwoman. Caleb was standing in the living room, perfectly fine and unharmed. But when I went to look for Grandma, I realized the smoke was pouring out of her bedroom. Grandma was still lying in bed. I covered my nose and yelled, “Grandma, Grandma, wake up!” She didn’t respond. I yelled a few more times. My mom rushed in and shook her: “Mom! Mom! What’s wrong? Mom!” Grandma remained lifeless. As the smoke cleared slightly, I could see her lips had turned a dark, bruised purple. My mom with trembling fingers reached out to check her breathing. Two seconds later, she let out a blood-curdling scream and collapsed onto the floor. Grandma was dead. 5 Soon, police cars, ambulances, and fire trucks completely surrounded our building. The paramedics pulled a white sheet over Grandma’s body. A firefighter looked at the shredded firecracker paper covering the living room floor and let out a long sigh. The firefighter told the police: “Preliminary assessment is the child was setting off M-80s inside the house. The elderly woman was asleep, suffered a severe shock, and had a sudden, fatal heart attack.” A police officer frowned at my mom. “Leaving a young child home alone is bad enough, but letting him play with explosives? Do you have zero common sense as a parent?” My mom still hadn’t recovered from the shock. She stuttered, “I… I didn’t know…” The police looked at her in disbelief. Meanwhile, Caleb sat on the couch sucking on a lollipop, acting as if nothing had happened, watching the commotion and giggling. Someone glanced at Caleb and muttered, “Look at that kid. His grandmother just died in a freak accident and he’s sitting there laughing.” But they didn’t know. Caleb literally had no heart. When Grandma’s body was wheeled past me, my nose stung. Even though she was only kind to me at the very end, those were still memories I cherished. Right then, my dad rushed home, just in time to see Grandma being loaded into the ambulance. He leaned against the doorframe, his legs gave out, and he slowly slid down to the floor. My mom protectively stepped in front of Caleb. She said weakly, “You… you need to calm down. Mom was already in her 70s, her heart was never good to begin with.” My dad had already gotten the news on his way home. His eyes were locked onto Caleb, overflowing with bottomless hatred. Suddenly, he let out a guttural roar, shoved my mom to the floor, grabbed his heavy leather briefcase, and swung it directly at Caleb’s head. The metal clasp of the briefcase struck Caleb, knocking him to the floor. Blood instantly poured from his nose, staining the hardwood. My mom screamed and clung to my dad’s leg. “It was just an accident! It was an accident!” My dad yanked my mom up from the floor and roared, “Get the hell out of my sight!” Seeing things escalating, the police quickly pulled my dad away. “The tragedy already happened, please calm down! You don’t discipline your kid normally, and now that someone is dead, you resort to beating him?!” A firefighter quickly chimed in, “Exactly. If this had started a structural fire, could you take responsibility for the casualties in the whole building?” Taking advantage of the chaos, Caleb sprinted back to his room. When he came back out, he was holding the remaining string of firecrackers. He lit them right in front of all of us and threw them directly at my dad. “I want to play with fireworks inside!” The popping and banging of the firecrackers echoed through the room again, filling the air with smoke. Everyone in the room fell dead silent, staring at Caleb in horror. He was a monster. 6 Grandma’s death was ultimately ruled an accidental death. After sorting out her funeral, the house was left in ruins. From that day on, my dad never spoke a single word to Caleb. He treated him like he was invisible, and he barely even spoke to my mom. After Grandma was cremated, my dad held her urn and said coldly to my mom, “Let’s get a divorce.” This time, there was no explosive argument between them. Caleb silently appeared behind me. He didn’t speak. He just stared at me with dead eyes. Early the next morning, my dad had his bags packed. The house was quiet; my mom was leaning against the headboard, crying with red eyes. He left all the money and the house to my mom, and voluntarily gave up custody of both of us. At the moment he was leaving, I cried and asked him, “Dad, are you really leaving?” He smiled bitterly. “Harper, be a good girl. Dad knows you are the most sensible one. Take good care of Mom. If anything happens, make sure to call Dad.” I sobbed, “If I’m so sensible, then please don’t leave!” He sighed heavily. “Harper, don’t blame yourself. It’s all Dad’s fault. I never should have gotten married and had kids. I’m not capable of living a normal life, and I’ve caused so much suffering for everyone else.” With that, he grabbed his suitcase and left without ever looking back. From that moment on, it was just the three of us left in the house. Because I promised my dad, I worked even harder. In the middle school placement exams, I scored exceptionally well and was admitted to the best middle school in the city. Caleb, however, because of the arson incident, made every school in the district refuse to take him. Seeing that no school would accept him, my mom came up with a plan: she legally changed his name, and then we moved to a completely different school district. After a lot of hassle, she finally managed to get him enrolled just before September rolled around. My mom aged drastically over those few months. The divorce hit her hard, but she still refused to give up on Caleb. She always hoped her love could somehow change him. But Caleb used his actions to prove to her that some kids are just born bad seeds, and they can never, ever be changed. 7 After starting middle school, I consistently maintained the number one rank in my grade. Caleb also transitioned somewhat smoothly into elementary school. Although he was frequently sent to the principal’s office for pulling girls’ hair, fighting, and stabbing classmates with compass needles, thankfully, no major disasters occurred. Until his classmates all started getting allowances. Driven by a child’s vanity, he suddenly discovered the perks of having money. One day, the $5,000 collected for a class field trip went missing from the classroom. The school took it extremely seriously and pulled the security footage immediately. The camera clearly captured Caleb sneaking back into the classroom during recess and taking the cash envelope from the teacher’s desk. The school called my mom in. Five thousand dollars is no small amount. The school administration and the principal had a very serious sit-down with her. Caleb was publicly disciplined at school, and my mom had to apologize and pay restitution in the parent group chat. As for the five thousand dollars, Caleb had already blown through all of it at the arcade. I remember it clearly. That was the day I attended the district’s academic awards ceremony. I waited until the very end, but I never saw my mom in the audience. I walked home alone, holding my certificate of excellence. It wasn’t until late at night that my mom dragged her exhausted body home, bringing Caleb with her. I sat in the dark living room, clutching my straight-A report card and the award. “Mom.” My mom saw me and froze. “Why are you sitting in the dark? Did you eat?” I didn’t answer. She walked toward me, confused, until she saw the certificate in my hand. She stared at it for a long time, then murmured, “Mom forgot…” Caleb stood in the doorway and said coldly, “I’m hungry.” My mom ignored him. Instead, she pulled me into a tight hug, choking back sobs as she said, “Harper, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry you’ve had to suffer so much these past few years.” “It’s okay, Mom. It just means I need to do better.” At that moment, Caleb raised his voice again, “I said I’m hungry!” As my mom cried, her breathing started to quicken. She involuntarily doubled over, her face turning bright red. Her old condition was flaring up. I quickly said, “Mom, I’ll go get your medicine.” She clutched her chest, gasping for air, and slumped onto the sofa. Then, the unthinkable happened. Caleb suddenly picked up a heavy ceramic plate from the table and hurled it directly at my mom’s head. It happened so fast, no one could react. My mom screamed. Her brow bone split open instantly, and blood poured down her face. Caleb was still screaming, “I SAID I’M HUNGRY!” My mom wiped the blood from her face, rushed over, and slapped Caleb twice across the face. She screamed and cried, “Do I owe you?! Do I owe you something?! What more do you want from me?! I never should have given birth to you!” Caleb said nothing. He just glared at her with venomous hatred. If looks were knives, my mom would have been carved into a thousand pieces. 8 Over the years, raising Caleb left my mom covered in physical and emotional scars. As he grew older, he became more and more like a ticking time bomb. You never knew when he would explode. Stumbling along, he had changed schools twice by the time he reached sixth grade. I was already in high school, usually living in the dorms. One day, my homeroom teacher suddenly called me out of class. She said Caleb’s school had called; they couldn’t reach my mom. To make ends meet, my mom was working two night-shift jobs. She slept during the day, so she likely slept through the calls. I got permission to leave and rushed to his school. When I got there, I found out Caleb had gotten into an argument with the class president. Since Caleb couldn’t beat him in a fight, he took a fountain pen and stabbed it straight through the boy’s hand, pinning it to the desk. The paramedics had to use an electric saw to cut the pen to free him. The class president had two severed tendons. When they finally removed the pen at the hospital, there were chunks of flesh stuck inside the barrel. That boy had just won first place in a national youth piano competition! Even if his hand slowly recovered, its dexterity would be permanently compromised. His music career was dead, killed by my brother. Caleb was expelled again. This time, the victim’s parents were both lawyers. They were relentless, refused any mediation, and immediately filed criminal charges. My mom knelt on their front porch, begging them to spare Caleb this one time. They just called the police to have her removed. The boy’s mother looked my mom dead in the eye and said, “I’ve heard about your family. I pity you. But some kids are just born demons. They don’t deserve mercy! I’ve seen kids like yours—zero empathy, highly dangerous.” “None of them ever end up well!” Because Caleb wasn’t even fourteen, the court could only mandate juvenile detention and massive restitution. My mom had to drain every last penny the family had left to pay them off. After that incident, my mom aged another ten years overnight. 9 My mom was in a parent support group she joined when she was pregnant, called “XYY Mothers.” As the name suggests, the people inside were all mothers raising kids with Super Male Syndrome. My mom found a lot of comfort in that group back then. Many people said XYY kids don’t always develop antisocial personalities. They just have a higher probability. How could anyone give up their own flesh and blood over a percentage? My mom believed it completely. When the babies were born, they all thought they were innocent and cute. They believed that with enough love, they could guide them right. They all believed their child would be the exception. But as the kids grew older, they became more and more anxious. Covered in bruises and bite marks, they would ask the “veteran moms” in the group what to do. The ironic part was, the veterans almost never spoke. They couldn’t even control their own kids; how could they advise anyone else? My mom finally ran out of options. She took an indefinite leave of absence from work and stayed by Caleb’s side 24/7 to watch him. Ever since she was pregnant with him, it was like she was under a spell. I don’t believe it was purely maternal love. She never had that kind of obsession with me. Or maybe it was because I was too well-behaved and obedient. I never made her worry, so everything good I did was just taken for granted. During my three crucial years of high school, my mom became Caleb’s full-time warden. She barely checked on me. I gritted my teeth and survived the hardest period of my life alone. In the end, I scored a near-perfect on my SATs and wrapped up high school beautifully. I excitedly called my mom. Before I could even share the good news, I heard her rambling on the phone: “Your brother has been so good lately. He hasn’t caused any trouble, hasn’t gone to the arcade, just stays in his room every day. I can finally relax a little.” I silently hung up the phone. By the time Caleb was thirteen, he was already over 5’7″. Because he did absolutely nothing but sit in his room eating junk food and playing games, he weighed nearly 200 pounds, and his personality became even more volatile and erratic. Since he had been quiet for a while and hadn’t caused any disasters, I suggested to my mom that we take him swimming to lose some weight. At the indoor pool, Caleb was visibly overstimulated. He looked around wildly, staring at the girls. When I came out in my swimsuit, Caleb stared at me with an inexplicable look. I avoided his gaze. He smiled, a dark, confusing grin. Looking into his eyes, my stomach suddenly churned with disgust. Watching his back, it felt like I was watching an amnesiac demon slowly awakening. Caleb dove into the water. Because it was the weekend, the pool was packed. Within minutes, my mom and I lost sight of him. About half an hour later, Caleb climbed out of the deep end. He walked up to my mom and pointed at the snack bar. My mom knew he was hungry, so she bought a corn dog for him and one for me. Just then, a scream erupted from the deep end: “Help! A kid is drowning!” People rushed over, pulling a little girl out of the water. Her face was chalk-white, and her lips had turned a terrifying shade of blue-purple. Her legs were twisted and cramped together. The lifeguard pushed the crowd back and immediately started CPR. The little girl’s mother was already crying hysterically on the sidelines. The bystanders silently began praying for the girl. My mom and I exchanged a look, then both of us instinctively turned our eyes to Caleb. My mom’s hands started shaking, her breathing growing ragged. I quickly pulled her asthma inhaler from my bag and handed it to her. Meanwhile, Caleb was chewing his corn dog, looking down at the dying girl on the tiles, and started laughing. The girl coughed up a lungful of water and slowly regained consciousness. Her mother hugged her tightly, crying, “Sweetie, who did this to you? Do you remember?” The little girl looked around the crowd. When her eyes landed on Caleb, she burst into terrified sobs. The stunned crowd began to whisper and point. The mother, tears streaming down her face, screamed, “What did you do?!” Caleb said coldly, “I didn’t do it!” My mom’s face flushed as she forced herself to stand in front of the angry woman. “Yes! My son was right next to me eating a corn dog! Your daughter must be mistaken!” Caleb remained silent, taking another bite of his food. A few other kids quickly ran over and pointed at Caleb: “It was him! We saw him! He dragged her into the deep end and threw her floatie away!” The girl’s mother finally lost control. She grabbed a cleaning pole nearby and swung it at Caleb. My mom instinctively stepped in front of him, taking the blow for him. Caleb sat behind her, completely unfazed. He muttered darkly, “I just wanted to play with her. Why wouldn’t she let me play?” His voice was quiet. Maybe I was the only one who heard it. But his eyes were locked dead onto the little girl on the ground. The sound of police sirens approached. My mom and I followed Caleb as he was taken to the precinct.

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I married incredibly well. My in-laws are one of the most prominent, old-money families in the city. My husband is completely obsessed with me and hangs onto my every word. My mother-in-law, though initially a bit skeptical of my background, is a dignified woman who never nitpicks or makes my life difficult. Then one day, my father-in-law’s manipulative, two-faced stepsister returned from abroad. My mother-in-law was tormented by this aging drama queen day and night. And so, I stepped in. 1 My dad is a classic nouveau riche. In his early years, he hit the jackpot in real estate and scored a few incredibly lucky business deals, amassing a fortune in the tens of millions. My mom was his first wife. After she caught him cheating, she dumped him, took a massive divorce settlement, and moved to Europe to live her best life. She gave up custody of me, but before she left, she gave me a brainwashing pep talk. “I’m not taking you with me, Chloe. If you stay with your dad, you’ll live in luxury. If you come with me, you’ll just suffer.” “Remember this, Chloe! If we were living a century ago, you’d be the legitimate eldest daughter of the estate. Guard your inheritance. Do not let those manipulative little mistresses and their illegitimate brats squander your father’s fortune!” I was 8 years old. She planted a seed of war in my heart and gracefully walked away. Soon enough, my dad married his second wife, then his third. After divorcing the third, he suddenly realized that marriage, aside from splitting his assets, had absolutely no meaning. He stopped getting married, but he always had a steady rotation of girlfriends. As for my half-siblings—the ones I can name and the ones I can’t—there’s a whole army of them. Growing up in this chaotic, shark-tank of a household… I honed my combat skills to the absolute highest tier. No matter what flavor of fake-innocent, manipulative, victim-playing “mean girl” crossed my path, if they dared mess with me, I’d skin them alive. Every stepmom, mistress, and half-sibling trembled in my presence. My dad was actually incredibly proud of this. He’d say, “That’s my girl! A tiger father doesn’t raise a weak kitten! When you get married, I won’t have to worry about a thing. Nobody in your in-laws’ family will ever dare to bully you.” But I ended up marrying way too well. My elite combat skills were rendered completely useless. 2 My husband, Carter, and I were college sweethearts. The Sterlings are an elite, old-money family of intellectuals. My father-in-law, Richard Sterling, is the chairman of a massive pharmaceutical conglomerate. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, is an esteemed professor at a top-tier medical school. Whether you looked at pedigree or pure assets, the Sterlings were entirely out of my family’s league. My mother-in-law wasn’t exactly thrilled with my background, but Carter was hopelessly obsessed with me. So, we got married anyway. Terrified that his mother would make my life miserable, Carter suggested we move into our own place. I shot that down immediately. Please. I’m a battlefield veteran. Am I supposed to be scared of a little family friction? Eleanor is your textbook intellectual—proper, dignified, and principled. Even though she wasn’t a fan of my roots, she never actively picked fights or made snide remarks. After living together for a few months, we actually coexisted quite peacefully. Just as I was starting to feel that the life of a wealthy housewife was a bit too boring and wanted to find some drama… my father-in-law’s stepsister, Seraphina, returned from abroad. My father-in-law went to the airport to pick her up himself. At the lavish welcome-home banquet thrown in her honor, I took one look at this “step-aunt” and instantly understood the assignment. Ah, so she’s the legendary, elusive first love. Her face was a perfect blend of innocence and seduction. A single glance from her was enough to captivate a room. She wore a flowing white dress that perfectly hugged her curves. Even though she was forty-four, she took such incredible care of herself that she easily looked like she was in her early thirties. Most of the guests at the banquet were my father-in-law’s childhood friends. These older men, who were all ruthless titans in their respective industries, surrounded Seraphina like she was the center of the universe. She smiled radiantly, acting every bit the enchanting goddess. Until my mother-in-law, Eleanor, appeared, holding Richard’s arm. Seraphina’s smile hitched, the corners of her mouth slowly dropping. She immediately adopted a humble posture, bowing her head slightly to offer Eleanor a toast: “Sister-in-law, I toast you. Thank you for taking such good care of my brother all these years while I was abroad.” Her stance was subservient, her features delicate, and she looked utterly pitiful. Eleanor looked a bit uncomfortable, but not wanting to make a scene, she reached out to accept the glass. But Richard stepped forward, snatched the glass from Seraphina’s hand, and frowned. “Seraphina, what are you doing? Your health is poor, you shouldn’t be drinking. We’re all family here, a simple hello is enough.” Seraphina looked deeply moved. She gazed up at him, and her eyes instantly pooled with tears. Shimmering and heartbreaking. Eleanor’s face went chalk-white, but she forced herself to maintain a polite, dignified smile. I stood off to the side, watching with immense entertainment. This familiar, manipulative flavor… this exact playbook. It was a carbon copy of the tactics used by my dad’s third, fourth, fifth, and sixth mistresses. This step-aunt was coming in hot. I wondered if my dignified mother-in-law could withstand this kind of assault. A high-society senior romance drama, complete with a hint of taboo pseudo-incest? Oh, I was definitely going to enjoy this show. 3 A few days later, Carter returned from a business trip, and I immediately started gossiping with him about his step-aunt. Unfortunately, Carter didn’t know much. And he had zero interest in gossip, though he had plenty of interest in me. He took off his gold-rimmed glasses, his voice dropping into a husky, seductive register: “Chloe, I was gone for three days. Didn’t you miss me at all?” And then I pinned him to the bed and we did that all night long. When the sky outside began to lighten, he finally let me go, kissing my cheek in complete satisfaction: “If you really want to know the drama, go ask Martha. She’s been with the Sterling family forever.” My eyes, which had looked like a dead fish a second ago, instantly lit up with excitement. Carter let out a low chuckle. The next day, I learned the incredibly messy, unspoken history of the Sterling family from Martha. Years ago, Seraphina wasn’t a Sterling. She was Seraphina Miller. Her father was Grandpa Sterling’s most trusted right-hand man. When Seraphina was ten, a business rival hired a hitman to take out Grandpa Sterling. Her father took the bullet, saving Grandpa’s life. On his deathbed, he entrusted his wife and daughter to the Sterlings. A life debt is heavier than a mountain. Driven by immense guilt, Grandpa Sterling took care of the Miller mother and daughter, giving them whatever they wanted. Seraphina’s mother was beautiful and gentle. As the days turned into years, her caretaking eventually moved into the bedroom. One was divorced, the other was a widow—it was a perfect match. They decided to get married. Grandpa was incredibly devoted. Afraid his new wife would be looked down upon, he threw a massively extravagant wedding to show her status. He even made a huge spectacle of changing his stepdaughter’s last name to Sterling, adding her to the family trust, and raising her as his own flesh and blood. Seraphina was fifteen that year. From a fatherless stray, she morphed overnight into the most pampered princess of the Sterling family. But there was one person who was furious about this. Grandpa’s only son, Richard. Richard was two years older than Seraphina. As a rebellious teenage heir, he was arrogant and untamed. He gave his father zero respect and constantly antagonized his new stepmother and stepsister, making their lives miserable. But Seraphina clearly understood her and her mother’s precarious position. Her mother had injured her body giving birth to her and couldn’t have any more children. Richard was the only son. He was the future head of the Sterling empire; he was the golden ticket they needed to cling to. Once Seraphina figured this out, she started intentionally catering to Richard. She made him lunches, and even when he threw them in the trash right in front of her, she never got angry. Whatever he liked to study, she studied too, just so they could have common ground. Slowly but surely, the massive walls Richard had built around his heart began to crumble. 4 At this point in the story, Martha couldn’t help but roll her eyes: “Both mother and daughter were manipulative foxes, spending every waking hour figuring out how to control men.” Martha was a loyal servant brought in by Richard’s biological mother. It made perfect sense that she couldn’t stand Seraphina and her mom. I was completely engrossed and asked eagerly: “And then? Did my father-in-law and Seraphina get together?” Martha scoffed in disgust: “Get together, my foot. Seraphina was a master manipulator. She knew exactly how men work: what they can’t have is always more agonizingly desirable than what they easily get.” So, Seraphina and Richard danced around this ambiguous “will-they-won’t-they” phase for years until Grandpa Sterling found out. Grandpa marrying his best friend’s widow was scandalous enough, but he absolutely refused to let his son be part of a scandal. Even though Seraphina had no blood relation to them, she was legally a Sterling daughter. A romantic relationship between siblings was a disgrace he would never tolerate. To nip it in the bud, he swiftly arranged an engagement between Richard and Eleanor. Richard initially wanted to refuse, but Seraphina played the victim, saying she only ever wanted to be his sister for the rest of their lives. Plus, Eleanor was the bride chosen by his parents, so he eventually accepted the arrangement. Eleanor had harbored a crush on Richard for years. Oblivious to the dark family drama, she thought she had finally won the love of her life and was blissfully happy. But the years that followed were pure agony. Richard’s special treatment of Seraphina was glaringly obvious to anyone with eyes. At first, Eleanor tried to lie to herself. But eventually, she couldn’t keep up the charade. Just as she was planning to call off the engagement, disaster struck the Sterling family. Their company’s capital chain broke, and they were on the verge of bankruptcy. To make matters worse, Grandpa Sterling fell severely ill and was rushed to the ICU. While the Sterling family was teetering on the edge of ruin, Seraphina suddenly got married. The groom was a wealthy heir who had been obsessed with her for years. They had a flash marriage, and she immediately moved to Canada with her new husband. The betrayal destroyed Richard, leaving him entirely broken. At that critical moment, Eleanor stepped up. She officially married Richard, throwing a high-profile wedding to announce it to the media. The Harrington and Sterling families quickly formed a massive business alliance. With the financial backing of Eleanor’s family, the Sterlings survived the crisis. After they got married, Richard seemed like a completely different person. The rebellious, arrogant young master transformed into a mature, quiet man. He spoiled Eleanor rotten. He never confined her to the house to be a trophy wife; he supported and encouraged her to pursue her career in medicine. They soon had a child together—Carter. Over all these years, Seraphina had only returned once, when her mother died, accompanied by her husband for the funeral. At the funeral, the brother and sister acted like complete strangers. This finally allowed the anxious Eleanor to breathe a sigh of relief. After that day, it seemed Richard had completely forgotten about Seraphina. So, here was the million-dollar question: They hadn’t seen each other in over a decade, and there was so much bad blood between them. Why, when Seraphina returned this time, did my usually stoic father-in-law personally pick her up and defend her so fiercely? 5 That mystery was solved very quickly. The entire basement of the Sterling estate had been converted into a massive library. I was down there studying for the Bar Exam. Not long after I sat down, I heard the voices of Seraphina and Richard coming from upstairs, and their footsteps indicated they were heading toward the library. Driven by an irresistible urge to eavesdrop, I quickly ducked behind a large bookshelf. To my surprise, there was already someone else hiding there. Eleanor, holding two books, looked like she had just been browsing for something to read. We stared at each other in awkward silence. At that exact moment, Seraphina and Richard walked in. Peeking through the gap between the books, I watched them. The two stood facing each other. The man was tall and handsome, the woman beautiful and petite. They looked like a picture-perfect couple. Richard’s expression was calm, betraying no emotion. Seraphina clutched her chest, looking as fragile as a flower trembling in the wind, and her voice broke into a theatrical, trembling sob: “I know… if it weren’t for my illness, you would never have agreed to see me. You’ve hated me all these years, haven’t you, Richard?” Richard said nothing. Tears instantly spilled from her eyes. She quickly wiped them away with the back of her hand, her frail shoulders shaking. “But everything I did back then… I did it for you.” Seraphina claimed that the reason she married so suddenly back then was because her husband promised to inject capital into the Sterling company if she did. She had decided to sacrifice her own happiness and marriage to save the collapsing Sterling empire. But she was deceived by that man. After they got married, he refused to honor his promise and offered no help to the Sterling family. She was furious and wanted a divorce, but right at that moment, the news of Richard’s marriage broke. Her heart died. Divorce lost its meaning for her, and she couldn’t return to the Sterling family. She could only live in a numb daze with that man. For the first few years, the man was somewhat patient with her. But eventually, he showed his true colors. Not only did he constantly cheat, but he was physically abusive, frequently beating her black and blue. Seraphina cried beautifully, a perfect portrait of a tragic heroine. “When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, I stood on the edge of the balcony and threatened to jump before he finally agreed to a divorce. My only thought then was that, before I die, I had to see you one last time… even if I had to crawl all the way back.” I scoffed internally. Give this woman an Oscar. Richard suppressed his anger and asked: “Why didn’t you tell me?!” Her tear-washed eyes looked exceptionally bright. She frowned slightly, looking at him with a gaze full of gentle sorrow: “How could I tell you? You were already married. You had a wife, a child, your own family. You were living such a good life. How could I bear to ruin your happiness?” “I’m just an irrelevant person. How could I compare to your wife and child?” Richard averted his gaze, looking out the window. “You will always be a daughter of the Sterling family. You are my sister…” Seraphina’s tears fell like rain, and she interrupted him, sounding utterly broken: “But I don’t want to be your sister anymore!” “My biggest regret in this life was telling you I wanted to be siblings forever, and pushing you to get engaged to Eleanor… Richard, you were supposed to be mine. It was my own foolishness that pushed you into the arms of another woman.” Richard was silent for a long time. “Seraphina, it’s in the past. “Rest up for the next few days. The specialist I hired will be here soon.” With that, he turned and started walking toward the door. Seraphina rushed forward and hugged his waist from behind, pressing her face against his back, her voice full of grief: “But I can’t move on. “Richard, can we really never go back to the way things were?” Richard paused, gently pried her fingers open, and walked away without looking back. Having watched this entire soap opera, I rubbed the goosebumps off my arms and glanced at Eleanor beside me. My elegant, poised mother-in-law was staring blankly ahead, her eyes hollow. Sigh. Love is a cruel game. The person who loves deeper always ends up suffering more. I didn’t plan on being nosy and was about to leave. But I had already made it to the door when I couldn’t help but turn back and ask Eleanor: “Mom, you can actually tolerate this? “If it were me, I wouldn’t stand for a single second of this bullshit!” Eleanor looked down at the floor, her voice barely a whisper: “She’s his sister. Even if I can’t tolerate it, what can I do?” I cracked my knuckles. “She’s just an aging, manipulative homewrecker. Don’t worry, I’ll help you.” Eleanor froze, looking at me in shock. The time for slaughter had arrived. I was going to teach Seraphina the true meaning of cruelty! 6 During the time Seraphina lived at the Sterling estate, I felt like I was back at my dad’s house. That familiar atmosphere, thick with the scent of fake innocence and gunpowder. Richard was incredibly protective of Seraphina. Eleanor pretended everything was fine, but internally she was tortured, visibly wasting away day by day. At the dinner table, Seraphina put down her fork after taking just two bites. Eleanor asked with genuine concern: “Please eat a bit more, it’s not good for your health to eat so little. “Is the food not to your liking? Tell me what you want, and I’ll have Martha prepare it.” Seraphina immediately acted terrified, picking her fork back up in a panic. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Sister-in-law, please don’t be mad at me! I’ll eat, I’ll eat right now.” She started frantically shoving food into her mouth, looking like a frightened victim, acting incredibly fragile and submissive. Eleanor was startled and stood up to pour her a glass of water. “Slow down, don’t choke…” Suddenly, Seraphina jerked her head up, bumping into Eleanor’s hand. With a sharp crash, the glass shattered on the floor. Seraphina dropped to her knees, clutching Eleanor’s leg, crying hysterically. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry! Sister-in-law, I didn’t mean it, please don’t blame me, don’t yell at me, please don’t kick me out! I’m sorry, I’ll clean it up right now!” Eleanor was shaking with anger, feeling completely blindsided. When did she ever say she was kicking her out? What would Richard think if he heard this? Sure enough, Richard frowned, looking down at Seraphina on the floor, opening his mouth to speak. I beat him to the punch. I struck instantly. I lunged forward, grabbed Seraphina firmly by the shoulders, and spoke with fiery, righteous indignation. “Our ancestors fought and bled for our freedom and independence so that we could stand tall and proud! We live in a modern, democratic society, why are you dropping to your knees like a peasant?! “To put it broadly, we are strong, independent Americans! We bow to no one but God! To put it specifically, the men of the Sterling family are like soaring eagles, and the women are like fierce lionesses! “So stand up! Seraphina! You stand up right now!” No older, successful CEO can resist a passionate, patriotic, motivational speech. None of them! Sure enough, Richard shot me a look of deep approval. Seraphina was completely bewildered, staring at me in utter shock. She had lost her footing entirely, having no idea what playbook I was using. Carter let out a soft chuckle and chimed in at the perfect moment: “Auntie, please don’t mind her. Chloe has been studying day and night for her Bar Exam, she’s a bit overly enthusiastic right now.” Hearing this, Richard nodded at me approvingly again. The Sterlings take immense pride in their upstanding, prestigious legacy. Patriotism and dignity are practically baked into their DNA. I pivoted smoothly: “Oh, I almost forgot. Auntie, you lived in Canada for over a decade. Have you been away for so long that you forgot your roots and the proud blood running in your veins?” Seraphina’s face turned pale. Teary-eyed, she argued, “No, I haven’t. How could I ever forget?” I shouted authoritatively: “Then hold back those tears! We Sterlings sweat and bleed, but we don’t weep! We don’t break!” The blinding light of justice destroys all manipulative demons. Seraphina didn’t dare make another peep. She immediately sucked her tears back and dejectedly sat back in her chair. Richard looked serious and turned to Seraphina. “You just got back, you might not be used to how things are here now. If you need anything, talk to Chloe. She’s a good kid.” Seraphina was practically fuming, but she had to force a smile and nod in agreement.

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From having a brother who was a total flop, whose agency just threw him into this top-tier survival show as “recycled trash” to fill a spot. In the second round of the show, the trainees had to perform an original song. The rich kid got a Grammy-winning producer to back him up. The nepo baby got his superstar older brother to pull strings. And my brother… got me, a “plain and ordinary” music teacher. But after that round ended, our group’s original track blew up the entire internet: “This melody is too damn good! She killed it!” “What kind of school music teacher is this?! She’s a literal genius!” My brother silently raised his hand on camera: “She’s… she’s from Berklee.” 1 When I got my brother’s call, I was in the middle of revising a track for a client in LA. The demo for his new single had been revised eight times, and he still wasn’t satisfied. I was aggressively scribbling on the sheet music with one hand, and irritably answering the phone with the other: “I told you I’m swamped right now. I can’t fly back to New York. Find someone else.” I was about to hang up, but Dylan’s desperate, panicked voice blasted through the speaker: “Avery, you’re my only sister! Just help me this once. I swear, come Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll block every single Auntie asking why you’re still single. I’ll take all the heat!” Women know how it is. Once you reach a certain age, relatives from miles away start aggressively interrogating you about your marital status. And my family is super traditional; I have to go back for the holidays. Thinking of Aunt Margaret’s machine-gun-speed questioning, I caved. I rubbed my temples and sighed. “Send me the time and address. I’ll arrange my schedule.” Just as I hung up and finally finished the demo, Carter Vance leaned against the piano. He had heard the whole thing. He flashed his signature, charming smile: “Anaje, you’re going back to the East Coast?” I packed up the sheet music and handed it to him. “Yeah, family emergency. Gotta fly back for a bit.” I grabbed my bag and rushed out to book a red-eye flight. I was in such a hurry that I completely missed his last sentence: “Mind if I come find you?” 2 A week later, dragging my heavy suitcases to the entrance of the boot camp, I was nearly blinded by the paparazzi’s flashbulbs. That idiot Dylan forgot to mention the show was recording from the moment mentors arrived at the camp. So, while others stepped out of sleek, tinted Escalades wearing designer couture, I was standing on the curb in a hoodie, haggling with a yellow cab driver. “We agreed on 60 bucks from JFK, not a penny more!” “Lady, look at this traffic! You see how backed up it is? This trip cost me my whole morning. You gotta add a tip!” I checked my wallet. I flew back in such a rush that I barely had any cash on me, and my Venmo app was glitching. A reporter nearby couldn’t take the secondhand embarrassment anymore and handed the driver a crisp hundred-dollar bill. Even though I promised to pay him back once I got my paycheck, he still blasted me on the front page of his blog. #DylanHayesSisterIsBroke #DidDylanHireHisSisterForFamilyIncome? #DylanGroupDoomedToFailRoundTwo What can I say? Rumors stop at the wise, but Twitter isn’t exactly known for wisdom. 3 After dealing with the cabbie, I followed the PA’s directions onto the red carpet leading into the camp. The 80 trainees for this show were split into 8 groups of 10. Dylan was in Group 3. A bunch of trainees with zero backing, zero resources, and clearly no budget for a famous mentor. No wonder he begged me to save him. The mentors introduced themselves one by one on the red carpet. First up was the “superstar brother” Dylan mentioned. He debuted a decade ago and was a massive teen heartthrob: “Hey everyone, I’m Mason Reed. I’m the mentor for Liam’s team. I specialize in rap and choreography.” The fans behind the barricades went wild. The host chimed in perfectly: “Mason is being modest! We all know besides dancing and rapping, his songwriting is top-tier.” Mason waved it off. “Speaking of songwriting, we have a platinum-selling producer right here. I wouldn’t dare call myself top-tier.” A woman in a stunning Dior gown stepped up, introducing herself. Maybe it was my imagination, but this Valerie Stone seemed to be glaring at me with open hostility. Before I could overthink it, she finished, and the mic was shoved to me. “Hi, I’m Avery Hayes. I’m the mentor for Dylan’s team. I’m a music teacher, mostly focusing on music education. I also specialize in songwriting.” The moment I finished, the crowd’s vibe instantly turned weird: [Is this Avery trying to leach off Valerie’s clout?] [A music teacher who “specializes in songwriting”? Can she even read sheet music?] [The Hayes siblings’ desperation is showing.] [Ugh, my bias is in Dylan’s group. Can he transfer?!] Hearing the whispers, the host tried to save the segment: “What a coincidence! Ms. Hayes is also a songwriter. Do you have any published works we might know?” I knew he wanted me to name-drop something to appease the fans. Worried my classical or highly technical pieces wouldn’t land, I picked a recent commercial track I wrote back in the States. “Give Me Power.” The crowd got even louder, but not in a good way: [What the hell is that? Never heard of it.] [Just searched Spotify. Nothing under that name.] [Is this chick okay? Does an unreleased demo count as a masterpiece?] The host clearly agreed. He forced a laugh, said “Ms. Hayes is so funny,” and snatched the mic away before I could embarrass him further. Later I found out, the Olympic committee had changed the track’s name for the official broadcast. So when fans later saw the credits for the Winter Olympics theme song reading “Composer: Avery Hayes,” they lost their minds. [I am the clown.] [The Olympic theme song “Strength of the Nation” was originally called “Give Me Power”?!] 4 The mentors went to claim their teams. Before I even got close, Dylan grabbed me, panicking. “Guys, this is my sister! She’s an amazing songwriter—” “How amazing? The kind of amazing that has zero published songs?” A trainee with bleached blonde hair cut him off sarcastically. “Ethan, shut your mouth. If you’re not happy, go to another group.” Dylan was fiercely protective of me. Ethan had a temper. He sneered, turned around, and walked straight toward Valerie’s group. Her group had a 12-person limit, so there was still room. Seeing Ethan leave, Dylan yelled after him: “Anyone else who wants to leave, do it now! If you wait, the other groups will be full!” He yelled, and three more guys left. From the 10 who started, we were down to 6 in less than five minutes. The livestream comments were brutal: [Down to 6? Speedrunning elimination.] [These poor trainees got dealt a bad hand.] [Broke-sister needs to quit. We’ll start a GoFundMe.] Dylan finally introduced the remaining guys. “This is Kael, an exchange student, currently ranked 77th. Wyatt, our main dancer, ranked 70th…” He rattled off the names. Not a single one in the top 50. “And me, your brother, barely scraping by at 20th.” “So this entire group doesn’t have a single debut spot?” I sighed, looking at this misfit crew. I felt like I was running a daycare for reality show rejects. “No, wait! Let me introduce my bro, Jaxon Pierce. Amazing singer and dancer, currently ranked 3rd.” I looked at the kid. Very handsome, giving off a detached, bad-boy vibe that teenage girls go crazy for. “Everyone else bailed. Why are you still here? Aren’t you worried about losing your top spot?” I asked. Jaxon tilted his chin toward Dylan. “I lost a bet to this idiot, so I promised to team up. But it doesn’t matter. I’m strong enough to carry. If you can’t write a song, I’ll just do it myself.” Damn. I’m kind of here for it. Guess I’m getting a cool brother-in-law.

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On the day the bandages were removed from my eyes, I didn’t see him. Instead, I received a message from his childhood best friend: “You might have saved Sebastian’s life, but don’t think you can use that to guilt-trip him. He’s too busy to pick you up. Find your own way home.” I called him. The phone rang once before he hung up on me. When I finally saw him three days later, he didn’t ask how I was. He demanded to know why I was “spreading lies” to ruin his best friend’s reputation. I looked at the golden aura above his head—the literal manifestation of his luck and destiny. It was flickering and fading fast. Suddenly, accepting that I was the tragic female lead in a “heartbreak novel” didn’t seem so hard after all. 01 The day I realized I was the protagonist of a tragic romance novel, I was in a hospital bed having my bandages removed. The moment the gauze fell away, a flood of information surged into my mind like a tidal wave. I saw my future: I was a mobile blood bank and organ farm for his “Golden Girl” first love. I was the designated scapegoat for his manipulative childhood friend. My entire family was destined to die because of him. Eventually, I would take my own life, and only then would he realize he loved me, holding my ashes in a state of eternal, pathetic regret. I sat there, frozen, unable to process it for a long time. One thing kept bothering me. If I was already dead in the end, what was the point of his regret? Did he think his tears were a legal pardon? The young nurse thought I was just devastated that Sebastian Reed hadn’t shown up. She tried to cover for him, her voice small and hesitant. “Mr. Reed should be here soon. He said he was coming today. He always keeps his word.” I looked at her young, fresh face. Her concern was genuine. I forced a smile. “It’s okay. I’ll wait.” But seconds later, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Seraphina Miller: “You might have saved Sebastian’s life, but don’t think you can use that to guilt-trip him. He’s too busy to pick you up. Find your own way home.” Seraphina was the “childhood sweetheart” trope. In the original plot, half of the torment Sebastian put me through was her doing. She knew she couldn’t compete with Sebastian’s “Golden Girl,” so she stepped back. But she couldn’t stand a “nobody” like me being the one to actually date him. She spent every waking hour trying to make me miserable so I would quit. She was an expert at picking on the weak. I waited for an hour, then dialed Sebastian’s number. He declined the call instantly. The nurse looked at me with a pity she tried hard to hide. I felt bad for her. Honestly, everyone could see how badly Sebastian treated me. I was the person who had literally saved his life. He had put me in the best hospital and hired the best staff. He did everything except actually show up. That isn’t how you treat a savior. That’s how you maintain a piece of equipment. I checked myself out of the hospital. The nurse hovered around me, treating me like I was made of glass. I took an Uber back to Sebastian’s estate, packed my essentials in ten minutes, and left. By the time the sun set, I had rented a small, clean apartment across town. I needed to sit down and think. Why would a rational, educated woman like me ever allow someone to harvest her organs and ruin her life for “love”? 02 I realized it was the “Sunk Cost Fallacy.” I had invested so much time, emotion, and literal blood into Sebastian that I had let him push my boundaries back inch by inch. Leaving felt impossible because I kept waiting for a return on my investment. Originally, I couldn’t accept that he had a “Golden Girl” tucked away in his heart. I fought him. I screamed. But every time I tried to leave, something would go wrong—a family crisis, a freak accident—and Sebastian would “casually” save me. I felt obligated to stay. And Seraphina? Her provocations weren’t new. He just called her “spirited” or “immature.” He expected me to be the bigger person. He expected me to be a saint. Everyone was the same age, yet I was the only one denied the right to have feelings. His double standards had always been there; I just chose to be blind to them. Not anymore. I sent a text to Sebastian: “We’re over. Don’t contact me.” Three years of devotion, ended in six words. Then, I texted Seraphina: “There was once a fox who couldn’t reach the grapes, so he called them sour. Then someone else got the grapes, and the fox turned into a rabid dog. Well, I’ve tasted them. They are sour. I’ve thrown them in the dirt. You can have them now.” Three days later, Sebastian found me. He was outside my door, his voice cold and commanding. “Open the door, Quinn. I know you’re in there.” He was always efficient. I wasn’t surprised he found me so fast. I opened the door. He stood in the hallway, I stood in the frame. We stared at each other. Sebastian was a beautiful man. He had eyes that looked like they were made for poetry. Even standing in a dingy hallway, he looked like a masterpiece. Some people are just born with a narrative. He brushed past me, sat on my small sofa, and said coldly, “Why did you send that message to Seraphina? Go and apologize to her.” I leaned against the doorframe, watching him. I saw it clearly then. The moment those words left his mouth, a wave of tangible malice radiated from him toward me. But as it hit me, it bounced back. It slammed into him, and I watched the shimmering purple aura around him—his “Main Character Energy”—shatter and bleed away. Did his cruelty toward me actually damage his own destiny? I stayed silent for too long. Sebastian lost his patience. His eyes were dark with suppressed rage. “Quinn Avery, are you even listening to me?” I blinked. “What year is it, Sebastian?” He looked confused for a second, then sneered. “What kind of game is this now?” That word—”now.” It showed how little he trusted me. He was so certain I was just playing a trick to get attention. I lost all interest in talking to him. “It’s 2023,” I said calmly. “The 1950s are over. We are broken up. I owe you nothing, and I certainly don’t owe that girl an apology. She isn’t worth my time. Please leave.” Sebastian’s confident mask slipped. He looked at me as if seeing a stranger. “Is this because I didn’t pick you up from the hospital? Are you really throwing a tantrum over that?” I pointed at the door. I didn’t say a word. Sebastian had too much pride to beg. He stood up, his face turning into a mask of ice. “You have one hour to apologize to Seraphina. I’m giving you one last chance.” He talked tough, but his aura was leaking like a punctured tire. I slammed the door, locking him out. I thought that because I knew my “destiny,” I wouldn’t be sad. I was wrong. My heart still ached with every breath. An hour later, my phone rang. It was him. I turned the phone off and slept for fourteen hours. The next morning, I was flooded with notifications. The most urgent was an email from HR at Sebastian’s firm, where I worked as a lead designer. “Ms. Avery, your recent medical leave has caused significant delays. The company has filled your position. Please come in to sign your voluntary resignation papers.” I had saved Sebastian’s life, and this was his thanks? He was too cheap to even fire me properly; he wanted me to quit so he didn’t have to pay severance. I replied: “Is the company firing me?” HR: “The position is no longer a fit. We suggest you resign voluntarily.” Me: “My recent designs just won a national award for this firm. If you want me gone, send an official termination notice. Otherwise, I will show up for my shift. If you attempt to withhold my legal compensation, I will file a complaint with the Labor Board.” The reply was a long string of dots, followed by: “You offended the wrong person. Don’t make this hard on us. You and Mr. Reed are close—why don’t you just talk to him?” I stared at the screen. This was his plan. Force me into a corner so I’d crawl back to him. But things bought with “pity” are never as strong as things protected by the law. If the Billionaire CEO wanted to be a legal illiterate, I was happy to give him a crash course. I went to the office. The receptionist’s jaw dropped. She scrambled for the phone to report my arrival. My desk was covered in junk—random boxes and old files piled high, clearly moved there that morning. I saw a couple of interns whispering and ducking away when I looked at them. I took a photo of the desk, then began swiping the junk onto the floor, piece by piece. I was about to log into my computer when a hand stopped me. “Quinn, you don’t work here anymore. You shouldn’t be touching company property.” The voice was sugary sweet, designed to trigger an immediate temper flare. I looked up. It was Seraphina. And standing right behind her was Sebastian. He stood there with his usual cold indifference, as if the world was beneath him. I remembered the book’s description of him: “Amidst the chaos of the world, he stands alone, untouched by the dust of mortality. Nothing is worthy of his heart.” I used to find that poetic. Now, experiencing it firsthand, I realized the truth: Sebastian was just a garden-variety sociopath. He wasn’t worth my life. I ignored Seraphina and looked at Sebastian. “Mr. Reed, are you firing me?” Before he could speak, Seraphina chirped, “You’ve been let go. Can’t you take a hint?” “Ms. Miller, this company belongs to the Reed family. Until you’re wearing a wedding ring, you don’t make the calls here.” Seraphina paled and looked at Sebastian for support. Sebastian looked at me, giving me one of his “tests.” 03 I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to bow. He wanted me to apologize to Seraphina. I wouldn’t open my mouth. Sebastian’s patience snapped. “Sign the resignation, Quinn,” he said, his voice like dry ice. “Resignation? No. Fire me.” I wasn’t going to let him off the hook. “Quinn Avery, have some dignity,” Seraphina hissed. “You’re being fired.” “Firing someone is an administrative action. If I violated company policy, provide the written notice and specify which clause I broke.” “You missed days of work!” “Saving the CEO’s life counts as an on-the-job injury, doesn’t it? If it does, I expect workers’ comp. If it doesn’t, Mr. Reed should be handing me a plaque and a bonus for saving his life, not trying to frame me for absenteeism.” The office went silent. Most of the staff didn’t know I was the one who had taken a hit for Sebastian. They just knew we were “involved.” In the past, I never talked about it. My parents taught me to be humble. But humility only works with good people. With predators, humility is just an invitation to eat you. You have to peel back their skin and show the world the monster underneath. Seraphina turned bright red. She tried to speak, but Sebastian cut her off. “Quinn, the company is officially terminating you. Go to HR and finish the paperwork.” He turned and walked away, his posture rigid and arrogant. Seraphina hurried after him. “Sebastian, wait for me!” I watched them go, pushing down the last ember of grief in my chest. I used to love that arrogant strength of his. But now, watching his aura fade from gold to a dull, dusty yellow… I felt nothing. He knew exactly what he was doing. He knew this would hurt me. He just wanted to see me break. He wanted to see me lose myself so he could feel in control. The book said his childhood was traumatic, leaving him with a desperate need to dominate his surroundings. So he tormented the female lead. He watched her give up everything until she died. And in the story, after she died, he lived on with the “satisfaction” of knowing she had loved him unconditionally. Tragic leads usually have a martyr complex. I didn’t. The moment those bandages came off, my “Love Brain” was discarded in the hospital trash. 04 I went to HR. The manager, a woman who lived to please Sebastian and Seraphina, pushed a “Voluntary Resignation” form toward me. Resignation means I get nothing. Termination means the company owes me severance, unused vacation days, and overtime pay. The difference was about fifty thousand dollars. I flicked the paper back at her. “I’ve changed my mind. I like working here. I think I’ll stay.” I stood up to leave. She panicked. “Quinn, what are you doing?” “Heh.” I walked back to my desk and started backing up my portfolio and gathering evidence of my awards. The manager followed me, her voice softening. “Quinn, let’s just talk this through.” I ignored her. Sebastian sent a message on the office Slack: “?” I deleted it and blocked him. A few minutes later, the manager’s phone rang. She answered with a fawning, terrified tone. “Yes, Mr. Reed. I understand. Right away.” She hung up, glared at me, and went back into her office. When she came out, she handed me three documents: an Official Termination Notice, a Final Paycheck Calculation, and a Severance Agreement. “It’s all here. Sign it.” “I just got out of the hospital. My vision is blurry. I need to take these home and review them slowly.” The manager looked like she was about to explode. Then, her phone rang again. Her face smoothed into a sugary smile. “Miss Miller! Yes, of course. I’m working on it right now. Don’t worry.” She hung up and told me I had to finish by the end of the day. I watched her walk away. We’ll see about that. I felt like making her stay late today. I ran the numbers. She had left out my accrued vacation time—sixteen days. According to labor laws, unused vacation must be paid out at three times the daily rate upon termination. That was nearly a month’s salary right there. And the severance? She calculated it based on my base pay, not my average total compensation (including bonuses). In the book, I left without a cent because I was “too heartbroken” to care about money. I ended up living in a tiny basement, got sick, and Sebastian “rescued” me. Only to find out his Golden Girl needed blood. I was a rare Rh-negative type. So was she. I was her personal tap. And because I was the “tragic lead,” my body was magically able to survive constant blood draws while being mistreated. I wasn’t going to be anyone’s tap. I was going to be Sebastian’s legal nightmare. I waited until five minutes before the end of the day. The manager had been chewed out by both Sebastian and Seraphina at least three times by then. I pointed to the forms. “These two calculations are wrong. Redo them.” “What’s wrong with them?” “I’m off the clock now. I’ll tell you tomorrow.” “Quinn! You’re doing this on purpose!” “Yes. I am.” I smiled, grabbed my purse, and walked out. I was fired—why would I work overtime? “Quinn, please! Just help me out. You don’t want to see Mr. Reed and Miss Miller again, do you?” I stopped and looked behind her. Sebastian and Seraphina were standing there. Their cold gazes swept over me and landed on the manager. She was trembling, her previous arrogance completely gone. I laughed softly. “You’re right. I really don’t want to see them. Fine, I’ll help you.” The manager looked like she wanted to cry and kiss my feet at the same time. She fixed the numbers in record time, her hands shaking. “Ms. Avery, it’s all correct now. Please sign.” I looked it over and pushed it back again. “You forgot my overtime for today. Add it in.” The manager’s face went purple. She looked like she wanted to kill me, but she had no choice. She reprinted the forms, and I finally signed. As I finished, she hissed under her breath, “I hope I never see your face again.” “The feeling is mutual. By the way, the way you slave away to save a billionaire a few pennies… you look like a ghost guarding someone else’s gold. It’s pathetic.” 05 I walked out of the building. I had secured nearly eighty thousand dollars in the settlement. With that, I could take my time finding a new job. I wouldn’t end up dying in a basement like the book predicted. “Are you satisfied now?” Sebastian was standing in the shadows of the parking garage, smoking. The light caught his jawline. He was still a beautiful man. Even knowing the truth, my heart still gave a treacherous little flutter. But that was just biology. I looked at him and hit the button for the elevator. “Company policy says this entire floor is a smoke-free zone. That’s a two-hundred-dollar fine. Remember to pay it tomorrow. Being the CEO doesn’t mean you’re above the rules.” Sebastian froze. He crushed the cigarette out and stormed off toward his car. Over the next few weeks, I followed my doctor’s orders. Every time my stomach ached from the meds or my eyes stung from the drops, I felt a wave of regret. I should have let Sebastian get hit by that car. Health is worth more than a man. I started mapping out the timeline from the book to see where I could change my fate. Sebastian’s “Golden Girl,” Natalia Vance, was a famous prima ballerina. She was the “White Moonlight”—pure, beautiful, and kind. In the book, she was innocent. She didn’t know about the suffering Sebastian caused me. But she was the primary beneficiary. Her health was built on the slow destruction of mine. So, when the news broke that Natalia had fallen during a performance and was hospitalized, I didn’t wait. I booked a flight to Thailand. I turned my phone on after landing in Bangkok and was immediately hit by a barrage of missed calls. I answered Sebastian’s call. He was hysterical. “Where the hell are you? You have thirty minutes to get to the hospital—” I cut him off. “Who is this?” “Quinn, this isn’t a game. Natalia needs a transfusion. Stop being petty. I’ll compensate you for whatever you want later, but get here now.” “Mr. Reed, the National Blood Services Act states that donation is voluntary. Furthermore, a donor must be in good health and cannot have had major surgery in the last six months. I was discharged less than a month ago after saving your life. Do you even see me as a human being? Or just a spare part for your ballerina?” The line went silent. I hung up. Facing the tropical sun, I tried to smile. It was hard. But it felt better than bleeding out in a sterile room. I stayed in Thailand for two weeks until the news confirmed Natalia was out of danger. Then, I flew home. The trip had been expensive, so I needed a job. I sent out my resume and got several interviews. I made it to the final round for three positions, only to have the companies suddenly stop responding. I called one of the recruiters I had a good rapport with. “Ms. Avery, you’re brilliant. We wanted to hire you, but a ‘higher power’ suggested we shouldn’t. I’m telling you this off the record because your portfolio is amazing. You might want to check if you’ve upset someone powerful.” I thanked her. A few minutes later, I got a text from Seraphina: “I let you run away to Thailand because I was busy. But don’t think you can just come back and work in this city. If you’re smart, you’ll know what to do.” She wanted to starve me out. But I wasn’t going to let her. I applied to Sebastian’s biggest rival, Thorne Industries. I aced the interview. Three months later, I entered a national design competition under the Thorne banner. I won. When I stood on that stage in a designer gown, lifting the trophy, the sense of achievement was better than anything Sebastian had ever given me. Validation from yourself is much more addictive than validation from a man. At the gala following the awards, I was networking with my new boss, Harrison Thorne. We walked past Sebastian. Harrison smiled, his eyes sharp. “Sebastian, thanks for letting Quinn go. She’s the best asset I’ve acquired this year. You’re very generous.” Sebastian didn’t look at Harrison. He was staring at me. “Ms. Avery, did you forget your non-compete clause? Joining a direct rival within a year is a breach of contract. I can sue you.” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “You should thank your HR manager. She was so focused on saving you fifty grand that she never had me sign a non-compete. Why do you think I was able to leave so easily?” Harrison burst out laughing. “Eighty grand! For eighty grand you lost a national award winner! Sebastian, your staff is incredible. Quinn, I think I’ll give you a raise tomorrow.” I raised my glass to Sebastian and walked away. Harrison spent the rest of the night telling everyone the story of how Sebastian lost me over a cheap severance package. The room was filled with muffled laughter. Sebastian’s reputation as a “genius” was taking a hit. I noticed his aura was no longer yellow. It was turning a muddy, bruised red. But that wasn’t my problem. That night, as I got out of the elevator at my apartment, I saw a figure leaning against the wall. Sebastian was there, a cigarette in his hand. He looked disheveled and tired, which somehow made him look even more attractive. “Does it have to be like this?” he asked. “It shouldn’t be anything. We’re strangers. Please leave.” “You never used to be like this.” “And you used to be a human being. I guess we both changed. Goodnight, Mr. Reed.” He didn’t move. “I made a mistake!” He practically ran to the stairs, unable to even wait for the elevator, fleeing like a ghost.

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My boyfriend, who was working late, suddenly sent me a text: “I have a girlfriend. Please delete my number. Thanks.” I slowly typed a question mark and hit send, only to be met with the dreaded “Message Not Delivered” notification. My boyfriend has a girlfriend. Then… who am I? 1 Wyatt had been working a lot of overtime lately. I felt bad for how busy he was, and a bit sad that we were spending less time together. I had just packed up some hot soup made by my housekeeper, Mrs. Gomez, and was getting ready to head to his office when I received a text from Wyatt: “I have a girlfriend. Please delete my number. Thanks.” At first glance, I found the message almost funny. This dog of a boyfriend actually had some solid boundaries. But… why did he send it to me? I slowly typed a question mark and sent it, only to realize… Oh, I see. I’m the one who got blocked. My boyfriend is in a relationship. He has a girlfriend. And I… got blocked. As someone with a notoriously fiery temper, I didn’t even pause to think before I dialed his number. But before I could even open my mouth to demand an explanation, a sickeningly sweet female voice answered the phone: “Who is this?” So there really was a woman next to him? To be honest, I almost couldn’t believe my ears. Wyatt had always been incredibly strict about his boundaries. He never let any woman besides me get close to him. He even kept his distance from his male friends. Yet today, he let a woman answer his phone. “Where’s Wyatt? Put him on,” I said coldly, my brow furrowing. The woman on the other end let out a soft, disdainful laugh. “Looking for Wyatt? He’s busy right now. He doesn’t have time.” “Put him on the phone,” I raised my voice, practically yelling into the receiver. “Miss, I suggest you have some self-respect. Wyatt already has a girlfriend. Clinging to him like this just makes you look cheap, you know?” With that, she hung up with a giggle. If I was just annoyed a second ago, now I was absolutely furious. I grabbed my keys and drove straight to Wyatt’s company. If this dog dared to cheat on me, he’d better be ready to pay the price. It was past nine o’clock at night. The entire office building was dark, except for the lights on the top floor. There was no one downstairs except a security guard. He looked surprised to see me. “Ms. Jensen? Are you here to pick up Mr. Brooks?” I didn’t answer. I walked straight into the elevator and hit the button for the top floor. The building was dead silent, but as soon as the elevator doors opened, I could clearly hear voices. I stormed toward Wyatt’s office, the accusations burning on my tongue ready to explode. But when I pushed the door open, I saw that the room was packed with people. It looked like they were in the middle of a serious discussion. At that moment, dozens of eyes turned to stare at me in shock. Being stared at by so many people, I instinctively swallowed hard. But my eyes zeroed in perfectly on a woman sitting in the corner, looking completely out of place. She had a men’s blazer draped over her shoulders, and she was looking at me with a smirk. “Audrey, why are you here?” Surprised to see me, Wyatt immediately stood up from his chair and walked toward me. Probably sensing my foul mood, he nervously quickened his pace, but he was a second too late. The woman in the corner suddenly jumped up and intercepted me before he could reach me. She practically used her body to wedge herself between us. “Miss, we are in the middle of a meeting. I’m going to have to ask you not to interrupt.” She smiled and gestured toward the door, clearly trying to kick me out. I gave her an ice-cold look and completely ignored her. Instead, I looked past her to Wyatt. “Should I wait outside? Wyatt.” “Of course not.” Wyatt dodged the woman with extreme agility, slipping past her to reach my side. He tried to grab my hand, but I pulled away. He was clearly panicked by my dodge and asked cautiously, “Audrey, what’s wrong?” “Nothing. Finish your meeting,” I said coldly. Wyatt glanced back at the room full of executives, then gently tried to pull me further inside so I could sit next to him. As we walked past the woman, he completely ignored her existence. “Wyatt, who is this woman? We’re having a company meeting right now, isn’t it inappropriate for her to be here?” Being ignored, the woman’s face twisted slightly. She forced an awkward smile and stepped forward to block me again. Wyatt stopped and frowned at her, looking as if he had only just noticed she was in the room. “Mia? Why are you still here?” “Wyatt, I… I was keeping you company for your meeting,” Mia stammered, her expression stiffening in embarrassment. “Why would you keep me company for a meeting? Even the Executive Assistant doesn’t need to be at tonight’s strategy session. What is an assistant to the EA doing here?” Wyatt’s tone was irritated, and he clearly wasn’t faking it. So this woman had been sitting in his office the whole time, and Wyatt genuinely hadn’t noticed? The other executives in the room seemed equally surprised, staring at the girl named Mia. “Wyatt, I… I was scared to be out there all alone. This is the only office with people in it on the whole floor, so… so I waited in here for you.” Mia’s eyes fluttered, and she looked up at Wyatt with big, teary, puppy-dog eyes. From Wyatt’s tone, this woman was basically an entry-level assistant, yet she casually called him “Wyatt” and claimed she was “waiting for him.” It was obvious there was something going on here. I crossed my arms and shot Wyatt a frosty glare. Feeling my eyes on him, Wyatt instantly stood up straighter. “Audrey, I have absolutely nothing to do with her. My dad made me give her a job, that’s the only reason she’s here.” He then turned back to Mia, his voice dropping to freezing temperatures. “Mia, you told me you had nothing to do after work today, so you volunteered to cover for the Executive Assistant. That’s why you stayed behind. Since you’re here, do your job. Stop loitering in places you don’t belong.” His voice was cold, laced with impatience. He waved his hand dismissively, gesturing for her to get out. The harsh words drained all the color from Mia’s face. She turned and practically ran out of the office. “I really didn’t notice she was in here during the meeting,” Wyatt explained while pulling me to sit down next to him. I nodded, signaling him to continue the meeting. Nobody in the company showed the slightest discomfort at my presence. When the meeting finally ended and everyone filed out, I pulled out my phone and slammed the text thread onto the desk in front of Wyatt. “Explain this.” By now, I wasn’t actually that mad, but I maintained my icy tone. Wyatt looked at the screen, his pupils shrinking. He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. “Audrey, wait right here. I’m going to give you a proper explanation.” With that, he stormed out of the office. I immediately followed him and watched as he zeroed in on Mia at lightning speed. He stood in front of her and held out his hand. “Give me my phone.” 2 Mia was visibly stung by his furious expression. She swayed slightly before pulling Wyatt’s phone from her pocket, handing it over with both hands. Her eyes were pitiful, yet laced with a sickly sweet, suggestive longing. Wyatt snatched the phone from her hands with lightning speed, opened his blocked contacts list, and his face turned black as thunder. This was the first time I had ever seen him look like this. Confused, I stepped closer to take a look. Good lord. His blocklist didn’t just have me on it; there were several other female accounts. Looking closely, they were all female CEOs or project managers from partner companies. “What gave you the right to touch my phone? I left it charging on my desk.” Wyatt was furious, and he didn’t even try to control his volume. Several department heads who were packing up to leave popped their heads out to see what was going on. Mia visibly flinched at his booming voice, her expression growing even more pathetic. “Wyatt, I… I just wanted to help you.” “Help me? You’re trying to bankrupt me!” Wyatt was raging. Looking at the people on the blocklist, his hands were practically shaking with anger. I knew how hard he had worked to get to where he was, building his company from the ground up. And in one fell swoop, she had blocked several major executives and key stakeholders. Just as I was about to step forward to calm him down, my phone started buzzing. Without exception, it was from friends who had my number, asking me what was going on and why they had suddenly been blocked by Wyatt. Even though these business contacts were polite, I knew they were demanding an explanation. I shot Mia a vicious glare, and then said to Wyatt, though still a bit annoyed: “Fix this right now.” I stepped aside to start replying to messages. Thankfully, because of my father’s reputation in the industry, they didn’t take it too personally. Plus, Wyatt’s competence and the company’s solid reputation spoke for themselves. Once they heard his phone had been tampered with, they were all understanding. Especially when they heard I had been blocked too. A few people even hesitated before warning me to keep an eye on his relationship with that assistant. After smoothing things over with everyone, my expression darkened. Even though Wyatt had firmly taken my side today, this still demanded a serious explanation. I took a few deep breaths, forced down the anger bubbling in my chest, and walked back into the main lobby. To my surprise, there were two police officers standing in the middle of the lobby. Wyatt was frowning, speaking to them furiously. Meanwhile, Mia was trembling, staring at Wyatt in utter disbelief. “Wyatt, you… you called the cops on me?” Her voice shook. Seeing that Wyatt had no intention of acknowledging her, she turned to the officers. She practically lunged forward and grabbed one of the officer’s arms. “Officer, we’re friends! I was just playing a prank! We’re really close, you can’t arrest me.” The officer stepped back in alarm, giving Mia a complicated look. “Ma’am, this isn’t something that goes away just because you say it’s a prank. You used this gentleman’s phone without permission and caused substantial damage…” the officer explained patiently. “We are not friends. There is no ‘prank’ here. She is just an employee,” Wyatt snapped irritably. “Officers, please investigate this thoroughly. I suspect she came to my company specifically to sabotage it.” Hearing this, Mia’s face went as white as a sheet. She bit her lower lip, looking at Wyatt with tearful, desperate eyes. When she realized Wyatt was completely ignoring her and instead walking over to ask me about the client situation, she finally broke. “Wyatt, I… I just thought that since you’re so successful now, and you have a girlfriend, you should keep your distance from the women on your phone. I was just trying to help you!” A single, crystal-clear tear perfectly rolled down Mia’s cheek. Just one tear. It didn’t make her look messy; it just made her look incredibly vulnerable and heartbroken. Unfortunately for her, Wyatt was too furious to appreciate her theatrical performance. He exploded: “What does my contact list have to do with you?! You even blocked my girlfriend first! Are you trying to ‘help me keep my distance’ or are you trying to make me die alone?!” Still not satisfied, he pointed to a profile picture on his blocklist. “This is CEO Gallagher. She’s the exact same age as my mother! You think I need help keeping my distance from her too?!” “I am your boss. You do what I tell you to do, and you don’t touch what isn’t yours. That’s the rule. Do you lack even the most basic professional decency?” He turned to the police. “Officers, I have a lot of trade secrets on my phone. She’s a brand-new employee who stole my phone. She poses a massive threat to my company’s assets. I want a full investigation.” I stood there, absolutely stunned. I came here expecting to catch a cheating boyfriend, only to witness a delusional pick-me girl getting completely dismantled. 3 I definitely didn’t expect Wyatt to actually call the cops. But it did make me feel a lot better about their relationship. Maybe it was because I had walked back to Wyatt’s side, which triggered the woman. She broke free from the officer’s grasp, rushed right up to us, and pointed a finger at my nose, demanding: “What about her?! Why is she allowed in your office?! Why do you draw boundaries with me because you have a girlfriend, but you protect her at every turn?!” “Is your brain completely broken?” Wyatt said, exasperated. “Can’t you tell she IS my girlfriend? Don’t you recognize the word ‘Wife’ on her contact info? Stop playing your pathetic little mind games.” Mia shrank back behind the police officers, having been yelled into submission. She finally looked genuinely terrified. The officers now understood what was going on. But the fact remained that Mia’s actions had caused financial damage to Wyatt. They asked if there was a chance they could settle this privately. Wyatt adamantly refused. “Absolutely not. Sending a message like that to my girlfriend? Are you trying to make me single forever? I won’t tolerate it.” Because Wyatt refused to settle, Mia was taken away. Before leaving, she tugged pitifully at the oversized blazer draped over her shoulders and stood in front of Wyatt. “Wyatt, I’m cold. Can I borrow this jacket to wear outside?” Wyatt glanced at the jacket and said flatly, “That’s not mine.” At that moment, the CFO, who had been watching the drama from the sidelines, leaped out of his office. “Mine! It’s mine! I tossed it on the chair next to the CEO earlier and didn’t realize you took the wrong one. You should probably give it back. I’m cold too.” Mia’s face completely froze. She angrily ripped the jacket off, threw it into the CFO’s arms, and glared at me with pure hatred before leaving with the police. Watching the venomous glare she shot me as she left, I couldn’t help but find it hilarious. What was this? A manipulative mean girl tries to provoke me, and ends up getting herself arrested? Later, Wyatt explained everything. Mia was the daughter of their old neighbors. Her family had moved up north a decade ago and had only recently moved back. As soon as they returned, they visited his parents. Since the two families used to be close, they reconnected. Hearing that Mia was looking for a job, Wyatt’s dad asked him to arrange a position for her at his company. Wyatt had practically forgotten she even existed. Who knew she would pull a stunt like this on her first day? 4 I rolled my eyes and muttered, “What is this, some cheap ‘childhood sweethearts’ trope?” Hearing this, Wyatt literally gagged right in front of me. “I don’t have that kind of childhood sweetheart! Ever since we were kids, whenever she messed up, she’d act pitiful and throw the blame on me. Then she’d cry and say ‘It’s all my fault’.” Wyatt shuddered as he mimicked Mia, looking as if he was trying to shake off a layer of goosebumps. “Anyway, I never want to be associated with her in this lifetime. If it weren’t for my dad asking me for a favor, I never would have let her set foot in my company.” I heard that even though she was taken to the station, Mia wasn’t actually charged. She cried and complained to Wyatt’s father, and after getting a severe scolding from his dad, Wyatt finally agreed to settle privately. She walked out of the police station that same night. I thought that since Wyatt had been so ruthless this time, she would take the hint and back off. After all, her little stunts were embarrassingly stupid to watch. But surprisingly, a few days later, she added me on iMessage. And the friend request said she got my contact card from Wyatt. Once I accepted, she immediately sent me a photo. It was a picture of a large, lavish dining table with quite a few people seated around it. I could easily recognize Wyatt and his parents. Wyatt was sitting next to the person taking the photo, smiling and putting food on their plate. He looked gentle and attentive. “Audrey, you don’t really think Wyatt loves you, do you? The one he’s always loved is me. Today, our families are officially meeting to discuss our wedding date.” Having experienced the last incident, I didn’t believe a word this woman said. If I rushed over to confront him like last time, and Wyatt had just called the cops on her again, it would eventually cause a rift between us. So when I saw the photo, I didn’t feel the same anger as before. I simply dialed Wyatt’s number. It took him a while to answer. He probably had to find a quiet place first. “Audrey, what’s up?” His tone was cheerful. He seemed to be in a good mood. “Where are you?” Wyatt paused for a second. Because we trusted each other, I rarely interrogated him like this. “I’m at The Grand Brasserie having dinner with my parents.” “Is Mia there too?” “Yeah, both families are having dinner together today.” Wyatt’s answer was perfectly natural. He didn’t sound guilty at all. I was silent for a moment, then said, “Check your messages.” I sent him the photo Mia sent me, along with screenshots of her texts. “Is she insane? She’s not even sitting next to me. My niece is sitting next to me.” Wyatt was visibly pissed. He told me to hang on for a second, and shortly after, he sent me a screenshot. It was a screenshot from his little niece’s Snapchat story. The two photos were identical; they were both taken by his niece. “Audrey, you should come over too. We need to clear this up once and for all tonight. This Mia girl is a psycho.” I was hesitant. “Your families are having a reunion dinner. Would it be inappropriate for me to show up?” “Why would it be inappropriate? My parents love you. Besides, if we don’t clear this up face-to-face tonight, Mia is going to keep harassing us and ruining our relationship.” He was clearly panicking by the end, and he said firmly: “No, you have to come. I’m sending a driver to pick you up.” 5 Figuring that Wyatt wanted to settle things once and for all, I changed my clothes and headed out. The restaurant wasn’t far; I got there in twenty minutes. When I arrived, I saw Wyatt waiting for me at the entrance. Seeing his annoyed expression, I hurried over and patted his shoulder to comfort him. But he just looked at me with puppy-dog eyes. “Thank God you actually asked me about it. If you were like the female leads in those romance novels and just walked away in silence, what would I have done?” I rubbed my temples. This was partly my fault. When we first started dating, I was so paranoid about him not being able to spot manipulative “pick-me” girls that I made him read a bunch of BookTok romance tropes. It turns out, he still couldn’t spot a pick-me girl, but his brain was now permanently hardwired to make sure I never felt misunderstood so I wouldn’t run away. With a hug and some reassurance, Wyatt led me into their private dining room. When we walked in, everyone was laughing and chatting. Mr. and Mrs. Brooks looked genuinely happy to see me. They immediately asked the waiter to add a chair for me. “Audrey, come here, sit next to me.” Mrs. Brooks warmly had the waiter place a chair right beside her, which was also right next to Wyatt. And sitting on the other side of Wyatt was indeed a little girl, no older than ten. Sitting next to the little girl was Mia. Seeing me walk in, Mia froze, her face instantly turning sour. “Wyatt, who is this? Why did you bring an outsider to our family dinner?” The older woman sitting next to Mia, who looked like her mother, spoke up with a passive-aggressive tone the moment she saw me sit down. Hearing this, Mr. and Mrs. Brooks’ expressions shifted. Mrs. Brooks gently patted my hand to reassure me. Then she smiled and said, “She’s not an outsider. This is my daughter-in-law, Audrey Jensen.” “Oh, so it’s Wyatt’s girlfriend.” The woman let out an awkward laugh and continued, “You run a pretty tight ship, little lady. Wyatt can’t even have dinner with his parents without you chasing after him.” That one sentence painted me as a controlling, unreasonable girlfriend. Normally, as a younger generation, I should be respectful to my elders. But this elder didn’t deserve an ounce of my respect. “Mrs. Lawson. You must be mistaken. Didn’t your daughter say you were all gathered here today to discuss my boyfriend’s wedding to her? I didn’t want my boyfriend to be taken advantage of, so I came to check it out.” I smiled brilliantly, even raising an eyebrow provocatively at Mia. When I came in, Wyatt told me: If they give you attitude, fire right back. Do not let them walk all over you. Hearing my words, both Mr. and Mrs. Brooks looked at Mia in shock. “What wedding discussion?” Hearing me expose her out loud, Mia clearly panicked. She knocked over her water glass. “W-What wedding… I… I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Even though she claimed she didn’t know, her nervous stuttering made her guilt painfully obvious. Mrs. Brooks’ face darkened. “Mia, Wyatt and Audrey will handle their own wedding. You don’t need to worry about it.” “Mrs. Brooks, I… I really don’t know what Ms. Jensen is talking about.” Mia stood up anxiously to defend herself. But her panic instantly morphed into a victimized whimper. She lowered her head, her voice trembling uncontrollably: “Mrs. Brooks, I know my good intentions caused a misunderstanding last time, and Ms. Jensen has a prejudice against me. But… but she doesn’t have to slander me like this.” She even threw in two theatrical sobs for good measure. “Exactly! Didn’t we already clear up what happened last time? It was just a misunderstanding. Our Mia was just worried that Wyatt is too clueless and wouldn’t know how to keep his distance from other women, and she didn’t want his girlfriend to get mad. That’s why she did what she did.” Mia’s mother immediately stepped in, pulling Mia into her arms, and shot me a vicious glare. “Ms. Jensen, it’s one thing that you showed up uninvited, but targeting our Mia like this? What’s your problem? Mia and Wyatt grew up together. If she really wanted to steal him from you, do you honestly think you’d stand a chance?” 6 I was speechless. I always knew Mia’s mother wasn’t exactly rational, but I didn’t expect her to say something so blatant. But the person who reacted the strongest was Wyatt. He practically leaped out of his chair, stepping directly in front of me: “Mrs. Lawson, Audrey is not uninvited. She is my girlfriend, and I asked her to come. As for Mia and me, there has never been anything between us. I have never liked her, and my relationship with my girlfriend has absolutely nothing to do with her.” He wasn’t leaving them an ounce of dignity. The faces of the entire Lawson family darkened instantly. Mia looked up from her mother’s embrace at Wyatt. That single glance was a masterclass in manipulation—hurt, enduring, and tragic. She looked exactly like a poor, helpless girl abandoned by a toxic ex. The atmosphere in the private room became even more awkward. “What is all this? Why are we arguing during a nice family dinner?” Mia’s father quickly stood up, pressing his wife and daughter back into their seats. Then he said, “Since we’re all here, let’s just have a good time. There’s no need to make things unpleasant, right?” He raised his glass to toast Mr. Brooks. Mr. Brooks hadn’t said a word, but his expression made it clear he was not happy. Still, he raised his glass and clinked it with Mr. Lawson’s. Since things had reached this point, Wyatt and I didn’t plan on saying anything more. Wyatt had already made himself perfectly clear anyway. Who knew that while we were ready to drop it, the other side had no such intention. Because of what just happened, the rest of the dinner was incredibly awkward. The only person truly enjoying their meal was Wyatt’s little niece. Unexpectedly, just as the tension was starting to ease, Mia’s mother suddenly laughed: “Time really flies, doesn’t it? Wyatt and Mia are all grown up now. I still remember how they used to play together when they were little.” Talking about the kids’ childhoods softened Mr. and Mrs. Brooks’ expressions a bit, and they couldn’t help but sigh at how fast time had passed. But then the woman dropped her next line: “I remember, back then, they even promised to marry each other. Wyatt used to say that when he grew up, he wanted to marry Mia and protect her forever.” After saying that, she acted as if she had suddenly realized she misspoke, turning to me and saying, “Ms. Jensen, please don’t mind me. I was just reminiscing about when the kids were little. We all know arranged childhood marriages aren’t a thing anymore. It won’t affect your relationship.” I couldn’t help but sneer. Saying it won’t affect us, yet intentionally bringing up an “arranged marriage” in every other sentence. Wyatt was instantly furious: “Mrs. Lawson, your memory is failing you. I never said I would marry her. You were the one who kept saying ‘boys should protect girls’ and forced me to protect her.” Wyatt sounded genuinely aggrieved as he continued: “Because of that, all the good snacks my parents bought for me when I was little ended up being given to Mia by you.” I almost laughed out loud, while the smile on Mia’s mother’s face completely froze. It took her a long time to recover. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, Wyatt’s mother interjected: “Childhood promises… yes, there was talk of that.” Hearing this, Wyatt turned to his mother in disbelief, gasping, “Mom, what are you talking about?” Mrs. Brooks ignored him, continuing with a smile: “But back then, it was your family constantly saying how compatible the two kids were and suggesting a promise ring. We never agreed to it.” Wyatt nodded frantically and turned to me. “Audrey, I told you, I have absolutely nothing to do with her.” Tears streamed down Mia’s face. She looked at Mrs. Brooks: “Mrs. Brooks, do you not like me anymore? You used to say you liked me a lot, and that you’d love to have me as a daughter-in-law.” Just a minute ago, they were claiming it wouldn’t affect my relationship with Wyatt, and now she was openly talking about being their daughter-in-law. This woman really was… shameless. Mrs. Brooks kept smiling. She picked up her water glass, took a sip, then pulled my hand into hers and said: “I did say that. But that was just my wish. It doesn’t mean Wyatt agreed to it. Now, the person Wyatt recognizes is Audrey, so my daughter-in-law is Audrey.” Those words hit the Lawson family like a slap across the face. Mia’s parents looked indignant and were about to argue further, but Mr. Brooks finally spoke up: “Frank, Martha. The kids’ feelings are not something we parents should interfere with. Wyatt and Audrey are great together, and we are very fond of Audrey.” He then glanced at Mia: “We watched Mia grow up too. She’s a great girl, but she’s just not right for Wyatt. I’m sure we can introduce her to someone much better in the future.” With that, he raised his glass and downed it right in front of Mia’s father. Mia’s father had no choice but to nod in agreement and drink his glass as well. It was obvious he didn’t dare offend Wyatt’s father. Even Mia’s mother didn’t dare push the issue further, sitting obediently in her seat and forcing a smile. But Mia stared intently at Wyatt with her big, watery eyes, demanding: “Wyatt, do you really not like me? I don’t believe you.” Wyatt was flabbergasted: “I just don’t like you! What’s so hard to believe?” “If you don’t like me, why did you always help me when we were kids? When the chubby kid next door bullied me, you helped me beat him up.” “That’s because if I didn’t help you, you’d go home crying to your mom that I just watched you get bullied at school. Then your mom would complain to my mom, and my mom would lecture me. You have no idea how hard that chubby kid hit. I didn’t want to fight him at all!” Wyatt raged. Mia clearly hadn’t expected this answer. She looked at Wyatt in shock but refused to give up: “Then… then in middle school, when a boy wrote me a love letter, why did you beat him up too?” I looked at Wyatt in surprise. Wyatt quickly grabbed my hand and explained frantically: “That was because you rejected the guy by telling him you liked me! The guy came looking for a fight with me! I never wanted to fight him! He broke one of my ribs!” This… Honestly, I felt embarrassed for Mia. But Mia still wouldn’t let it go: “Then… then this time, when I came back, why did you immediately give me a job at your company without a second thought? You even made me your assistant. I heard I’m the only assistant who was ever fast-tracked into your company.” Wyatt rubbed his forehead: “That’s because you told my dad you couldn’t find a good job, and my dad asked me to do him a favor and put you in my company. And you weren’t my assistant! You were the assistant to the Executive Assistant! It was a completely made-up, idle role because I specifically didn’t want you interfering with my work! And yet, you still managed to almost lose me several major clients!” The more he spoke, the angrier he got, finally shouting: “Mia, can you please just get out of my life?!” In the end, Mia covered her face and ran out of the room crying. After the dinner, I looked at Mr. and Mrs. Brooks awkwardly and apologized: “Mr. Brooks, Mrs. Brooks, I’m so sorry. I ruined your dinner party.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “434845”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

The day my brother died, his Ivy League acceptance letter arrived in the mail. My mother suffered a sudden heart attack, and my father got into a severe car crash rushing home. Meanwhile, Serena—the girl my brother had worshipped and ruined his life for—was sitting in a neon-lit bar, casually bragging about how two boys were fighting over her like some teen drama. I stormed into that bar with a switchblade. The exact moment I plunged it toward Serena, time rewound. I was pulled back to my junior year of high school. Back when my brother was still the untouchable, straight-A golden boy of our school. Nothing had happened yet. 1 It was only a moment’s daze before the chaotic noise of the bar shifted into the sharp ring of the school bell. My body was still holding the exact posture of gripping the knife, but the object in my hand was now a black ballpoint pen. And at this very moment, it was stabbed directly into the hoodie of another boy. It was Damon. The undisputed bad boy of the school, the son of a state senator, and one of Serena’s many obsessive suitors. In my previous life, on the day of the tragedy, he led a group of guys to corner my brother in an alley over Serena. My brother died under the frantic knife strikes of one of those street thugs. The coroner’s report stated a single blade pierced his chest. And Damon? Afterward, he simply stated, “I didn’t know the guy brought a knife,” and used his father’s political weight to wash his hands of the entire murder. He looked down at the pen jabbing into his chest, then back up at me, his face devoid of expression. He just coldly asked, “Can I help you?” My brother’s corpse, my mother’s wailing, and my father whom I never got to see one last time. The memories crashed against my temples. I glared at him, fighting with everything I had to suppress my trembling hands so I wouldn’t lunge forward and snap his neck. Damon’s brows furrowed. He was just about to say something when Mr. Harris, our history teacher, barked an order that silenced the room. “Class has started! What’s going on in the back?!” I snapped back to reality and looked around, instantly spotting the girl standing on the podium next to the teacher. “Damon, Riley, get back to your seats. “Let me introduce the new transfer student joining our class this semester, Serena.” I walked back to my desk like a zombie, watching the gazes in the room gravitate toward Serena. She was pale, petite, with incredibly delicate features. The sunlight slanting across the podium stretched her shadow, making her look picture-perfect. With a sweet smile and a cunning glint in her eyes, Serena gave a flawless introduction before the teacher pointed her to the empty seat right next to mine. It wasn’t until she followed the exact routine of my memory, walked up to me under everyone’s watchful eyes, and brightly said “Hi,” that I was completely certain. I had actually traveled back in time. I was back to the beginning of junior year, the exact time Serena transferred to our school, and the starting point of our nightmare. In the days to come, she would use her enviable beauty and soft, helpless persona to become the school’s It-girl. She would aggressively entangle herself with my brother until she lived in his heart. She went from being the unattainable crush of every boy to the fatal scar on my brother’s soul. And Evan—my brilliant brother who died in a pool of blood—became her favorite trophy. The golden boy who fell from grace, threw away his future, and died just for her. Unlike the first time we met, when I genuinely admired her beauty and was happy to be her friend, this time, I just rested my head on my hand and gave her a sideways glance. I looked up, stared dead into her eyes, and gave a fake, hollow smile. “Nice to meet you.” Since I had a second chance, I was definitely going to “treat her nice.” 2 During class, Serena held a palm-sized mirror, constantly adjusting her blonde hair. I just stared out the window, lost in thought. I was originally the type of student who buried my head in textbooks, ignoring the parties and the drama. Even though Evan’s grades were stellar, he was always ranked just behind me. Coming back to junior year, the AP material the teacher was lecturing on was stuff I only needed a quick glance to master. Because of this tunnel vision, when I found out Evan was dating in my past life, I gossiped for a minute and then brushed it off. A popular girl and a star student. It didn’t seem controversial. Even when he started smoking and drinking with Serena, and his GPA began to slip, I only mocked him in my head—thinking boys blinded by love just get what they deserve. But those thoughts became a curse. Evan died. He died on the exact day of our eighteenth birthday. Mom always said that when we were born, we were only one minute apart. That day, he made his final phone call to me. He said he had waited in line for an hour just to get the limited-edition cupcakes I loved. By the time I rushed to the scene, Evan’s body had already been taken away. In that alley, beside the crushed cupcakes, was a large bouquet of baby’s breath, trampled into the dirty asphalt. They were my favorite flowers. There are millions of love-struck teenagers in the world. Some get lost, some go crazy, but they rarely end up dead. And even if they do, that person was never going to be my brother. Fate gave me a chance to start over, and I was going to change the ending that shattered my family. I was going to pull my brother Evan out of the abyss and back into his bright, brilliant eighteenth year. The moment the bell rang, a crowd flocked around my and Serena’s desks, all of them eager to win her favor. I was sandwiched between Serena and her new fan club. Damon even leaned one hand heavily on my desk, leaning right across me to tap on Serena’s desk. With a tone he clearly thought was cool and casual, he asked: “Wanna grab lunch together later?” I cringed so hard I involuntarily rolled my eyes, cursing him as an idiot in my head. A second later, Damon’s cold gaze snapped to my face. I didn’t care what he thought about my eye roll, nor did I care if I offended him. I had something much more important to do. I stood up, aggressively shoved my way through the crowd, and headed toward the classroom next door—Evan’s AP Physics class. Standing at the door, I frantically scanned the room for him. Suddenly, someone tapped my shoulder, and a familiar, cool voice dropped into my ear: “Looking for me?” I turned around. Evan was standing there holding a hydro flask, lazily raising an eyebrow at me. I had never looked at him with such intense focus. This Evan right in front of me—he was alive. His varsity jacket hugged his growing frame, his jawline was sharp, and his shadow, cast by the sunlight, completely enveloped me. Seeing me speechless, he frowned and waved a hand in front of my face. “What’s wrong?” My nose stung. I looked down, rubbed my eyes, and when I looked back up, my face was covered in tears. “Evan…” I desperately fought the urge to throw my arms around him. I opened my mouth, but my throat was so tight I couldn’t make a sound. Evan froze in shock. He quickly wiped away my tears, his fingertips cool against my skin. He switched to a gentle, serious tone: “Tell me. What happened?” I forced a smile that looked worse than crying, choking out: “Nothing. Let’s just go home early today. I miss Mom and Dad.” Evan laughed in disbelief. “Are you in kindergarten? Why are you being such a baby?” He placed a hand on my back, pulling me into a comforting half-hug. “Alright, we’ll leave right after the last bell.” Confirming that Evan was perfectly normal lifted the massive weight off my chest. I chatted with him for another second before turning to head back to class. But the moment I turned, Serena was walking up to us with a beaming smile. “Desk-mate! I wanted to ask if you’d walk with me to the counselor’s office.” She flashed her dimples, intimately looping her arm through mine, and blinked innocently at Evan standing behind me. “Is this your boyfriend? He’s so handsome. Can I hang out with you guys later?” 3 I glanced back at Evan. He was frowning, looking at me with pure confusion. He was clearly weirded out by the “boyfriend” comment. I smiled at him, then turned my head and deadpanned to Serena: “No. “My brother doesn’t like girls who reek of cheap perfume.” The moment the words left my mouth, Serena’s face contorted as if she’d eaten a lemon. She subtly ducked her head to sniff herself. Confirming she didn’t smell bad, the corners of her mouth dropped, her expression turned cold, yet her words remained playing the victim: “…Riley, today is my first day at this school. I really hoped we could get along. “If I offended you somehow, please just tell me straight, instead of attacking me out of nowhere.” A sincere expression, polite phrasing, neither overly humble nor aggressive. She looked like a fragile white flower shivering in the cold wind but standing tall. I mirrored her posture, looking just as sincere. “Huh? How did I attack you? You really do have a strong smell…” I even turned to Evan and blinked. “Right, Evan? Didn’t you smell it?” Suddenly put on the spot, Evan gave me a helpless look and had no choice but to play along. “Yeah… I guess a little…” “Right? It smells exactly like that expired, two-faced green tea stuff sitting in the back of our pantry.” I grinned at her. Serena’s face was completely drained of color. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, and the light vanished from her gaze as she looked at Evan. With her cheeks burning red, she spun around and sprinted back into the classroom. I watched her back and let out a cold scoff, only to get a light flick on the forehead from Evan. He looked at me with a scrutinizing gaze. “Why are you picking on the new girl?” I interpreted that as Evan instinctively protecting Serena. Flashbacks from my previous life surged into my mind, and an overwhelming wave of disgust washed over me. My tone grew harsh: “What? Does your heart ache for her? Then why did you play along with me just now? Go comfort her if you care so much.” Evan’s face showed sheer bewilderment. After a moment, his expression darkened, and his voice dropped. “You’re acting really weird today. “That girl’s perfume was a bit strong, I was just telling the truth. “If someone bullied you, tell me. But if you’re just throwing a tantrum at random people, do whatever you want.” With that, Evan turned and headed back to his class. I regulated my breathing. Right before the bell rang, I called out to his back: “I just don’t like her! And if you ever fall for her, you are no longer my brother!” 4 I walked back into class, feeling hollow. Since we were kids, Evan and I rarely fought or spoke to each other so aggressively. I also knew that blindly attacking Serena in front of him was a terrible strategy. After all, I was the only one with the perspective of the future. Thinking back, I was the one who personally handed Serena over to Evan. When my beautiful, friendly new desk-mate asked, “Can I hang out with you guys later?” for the first time, I had accepted her without a second thought. From then on, she walked to school with us, ate lunch with us, day after day. The way Serena looked at my brother grew increasingly sticky. She would even intercept love letters from other girls, reading them to him in her sickly-sweet voice, watching his ears turn red before delivering a perfectly calculated, flirtatious remark. They started going out on weekends more and more, and Evan’s class rank plummeted. Meanwhile, I was locked away in my ivory tower of academics, completely oblivious—thinking, let them date. If I’m the only one getting straight A’s, Mom and Dad will just buy me a better car. How could the me from back then have known how it would end? The bell rang. Next period was P.E. The students were filtering out of the classroom. I grabbed an AP Calculus worksheet, planning to sit in the bleachers and do it. But I found someone sitting in my seat. Damon was lazily flipping through my test papers. I walked right up to him, but he didn’t even lift his head. I reached out, snatched the paper from his hand, and spat out two icy words: “Get up.” Damon finally deigned to look up at me, his eyes full of mockery. “Look at the nerd. Playing hard to get?” I ignored him and repeated: “Get up.” Damon decided to be even more stubborn. He leaned back, putting his full weight onto my backpack, and let out a hearty laugh. “I heard you’re pretty tough. Made the new girl cry. “Are you trying this hard to get my attention?” I stared at him in silence for two seconds, then smiled. “Yeah. I just love watching her cry. And I love it even more when she cries and her little lapdogs trip over themselves trying to bite people for her. “It gives me this… fascinating thrill of watching pathetic creatures perform.” Damon’s face instantly shifted, a layer of frost settling over his features. He stood up violently, grabbing my chin with a crushing grip. He glared at me, studying me with an unfamiliar gaze, before suddenly laughing—a complex, dark sound. “Riley, it seems we didn’t know each other well enough before. “I suddenly think that starting right now, we can get to know each other properly.” The very next second, he hissed in pain and released me. I had grabbed a box cutter from the desk and sliced a deep gash across his hand. I shoved him hard, making him stumble back into the chair. I looked down at him. “Sorry, I don’t deal with idiots.” I picked up my worksheet, shoved a pen into my pocket, and walked away. 5 During P.E., I experienced Damon’s “sincerity” in wanting to get to know me. Even with a bandaged hand, he was still the undisputed king of the basketball court. Ignoring the icy glares he shot my way, I focused solely on mentally mapping out the solution to the final calculus problem. However, the basketballs repeatedly flying in my direction forced me to pay attention to the court. On the final throw, I scanned the area, bent down pretending to tie my shoe, and subtly adjusted my position. The basketball in Damon’s hands flew toward me in a perfect, aggressive arc. I tilted my head, dodging it by an inch. A split second later, a loud, dull thud of a basketball hitting flesh echoed behind me, followed by a piercing scream. “Ahhh!” The scattered groups of girls rushed past me, and the boys on the court stopped running, looking our way. The source of the scream—Serena—was covering her face, sobbing quietly. Seeing this, practically the entire class swarmed her, rushing to comfort the fragile flower. Only Damon stopped a few paces away from the crowd, silently staring at me. Seeing that I was looking back, he mouthed the words: “On purpose?” The girls were already chattering, defending Serena. “What kind of psycho throws a ball like that? If you’ve got that kind of aim, go draft for the NBA!” “It was Damon! I literally saw him throw it right at her!” The boys, however, guiltily defended their “alpha,” trying to change the subject. “Stop talking, let’s just get Serena to the nurse.” “It was obviously an accident, alright?” Damon stood with his arms crossed, not saying a word, his face looking terrible. He shot me another unreadable look, finally walked forward, stopped in front of Serena, and said stiffly: “I’ll take you to the nurse.” Serena’s eyelashes were wet and red. She forced a tragic, beautiful smile, looking incredibly pitiful. “It’s okay, Damon. I believe you didn’t mean it. It doesn’t hurt that much. Everyone, please don’t be mad at him.” “What do you mean he didn’t mean it? Can’t he even say a simple ‘I’m sorry’?” “Exactly. He was just hitting on people earlier, now he thinks he’s too good to apologize?” Her “he didn’t mean it” sparked another wave of whispers. The girls chimed in one by one, stabbing right at Damon’s ego. Finally, Damon let out a furious, “Shut up!” that instantly silenced the gym. Even Serena was startled, her eyes widening in confusion as she looked at him. Damon’s face was like ice. He completely ignored Serena, bent his long arm down, scooped up the basketball, and walked straight back to the court. Most of the boys scrambled to follow him. Seeing Serena’s disappointed expression and the fleeting shadow in her eyes, I sneered internally. She prided herself on being smooth. She thought that by lowering herself, she could trigger Damon’s guilt and solidify her perfect, innocent persona. She had no idea that a guy like Damon—arrogant and full of himself—would only apologize if he wanted to. Being forced onto the moral high ground and bullied into an apology? He hated that. His initial interest in her was just the primal instinct of a teenage boy looking at a pretty girl. But making him the target of everyone’s criticism? It only triggered his rebellious disgust. He was just a trash guy with a fragile ego. Realizing she wasn’t getting Damon’s apology or concern, Serena couldn’t be bothered to act anymore. She stood up briskly, perfectly fine, and stared thoughtfully in Damon’s direction. After school, while I was packing my bag, Evan was already waiting at the door of my classroom. He leaned casually against the lockers, drawing the attention of several girls. Evan’s cold demeanor wasn’t a pose; he just genuinely didn’t care. His eyes softened as he waved in my direction, signaling me to hurry. I slung my backpack over one shoulder. Before leaving, I purposely glanced at Serena’s desk—empty. Stepping into the hall, I realized Evan wasn’t in a rush to leave. He stayed leaning against the lockers, pretending to look at me coldly. “What?” I urged. “Aren’t we leaving?” “I’m waiting for my sister. Who are you?” he said casually. I realized he was still hung up on what I said at noon. I nodded cooperatively and turned to walk away. “Then I’m going to find my brother. Bye.” Evan finally dropped the act, followed behind me, took the backpack off my shoulder, and swung it onto his own. Then he threw a long arm around my neck, dragging me into a rough headlock. His voice was still tinged with annoyance. “You get into a fight with someone and suddenly you don’t want your brother anymore, is that it? “I don’t even know that girl. You made up that whole thing about me liking her out of nowhere.” My heart sank slightly. I was terrified that the Evan of this timeline would repeat his past mistakes, but I had forgotten he naturally kept people at arm’s length. I probed hesitantly, “So when you saw her, what did you think of her?” Evan looked even more exasperated but answered honestly: “Just a very average girl.” His expression was open. He wasn’t lying. Serena was definitely not “average,” but Evan had never cared much about looks. Growing up, he had rejected countless girls, many of them gorgeous. If he said she was average, it meant Serena hadn’t left any impression on him yet. In my past life, it was only after being bombarded by her constant sugar-coated affection that he developed feelings—and it was me who let the wolf into the house to begin with. Hearing his answer, I let out a sigh of relief. My whole body relaxed. I linked my arm through his and started skipping down the stairs—just like we did when we were little. Evan dropped his annoyance and laughed, calling me a child. However, mid-skip, I accidentally bumped into someone. Damon was holding a basketball with one hand, slightly sweaty, apparently just done with practice. He stared blankly at Evan, then glanced at my hand linked through Evan’s arm. He gave a half-smile. “Playing house?” I instinctively tried to step in front of Evan, but he pulled me behind him. Evan smiled, looking completely normal, and said, “My bad, man.” He tried to pull me past him. But Damon stuck his arm out, blocking us. His tone was icy: “Aren’t you going to apologize?” On the back of his hand was a glaring, fresh cut—the one I had given him that morning. Evan frowned, just about to speak, but I laughed first and said sweetly: “I’m so sorry, Damon.” Damon froze, seemingly incapable of imagining me being so submissive. A flash of mockery crossed my eyes. I reached out, grabbed his hand, gently stroked the wound, and then dug my fingernails deep into his flesh. The slightly scabbed wound tore open instantly, bleeding again. Damon’s face twisted in pain. He tried to rip his hand away, but I gripped it tighter. Does it hurt? It was merely a fraction of what my brother felt. “Fuck!” Just as Damon dropped the basketball and raised his other hand, I let go. I lowered my eyes, matching his gaze. My eyes were venomous as I whispered: “You should watch where you’re walking, Damon. You wouldn’t want me to bump into you again.” 6 Perhaps because I made zero effort to hide my hostility, Damon’s eyes held more shock and confusion than anger. He clearly couldn’t understand why a quiet nerd who had barely spoken two words to him in two years harbored such overwhelming hatred toward him. I stopped looking at him and let Evan pull me away. The movements were subtle; Evan didn’t notice the exchange. He just turned his head and complained: “Why are you calling everyone by their first name like you’re close to them?” I hummed a tune, in a great mood, and didn’t answer. Walking out of the school gates and approaching an alley near campus, I clearly heard strange noises coming from the shadows. Crying, cursing, and the sharp crack of a slap. I frowned. Something wasn’t right. Evan exchanged a look with me, told me to stay put, and walked into the alley alone. As if I would listen. I followed right behind him. The alley was long and narrow, backing up to a set of dilapidated, abandoned apartments. The closer we got, the louder the laughter and crying became. Finally, in the courtyard of an unfinished building, I saw Serena squatting on the ground sobbing, surrounded by a group of girls. Serena’s hair was a mess, her face stained with tears. The leader, a girl with dyed streaks, poured a can of soda over her head. The liquid dripped down her hair, soaking through her modified, tight-fitting uniform shirt, highlighting her figure. The girls crouched in front of her, lightly slapping her face and laughing loudly. “What are you doing?!” Evan couldn’t just walk away. He grabbed a piece of rusty rebar from the ground and said calmly: “I already called the cops. They’re on their way.” Serena looked like she had seen her savior. She stumbled forward, throwing herself into Evan’s arms, gripping his waist tightly. She buried her face in his chest, sobbing and trembling like a frightened rabbit. The bullies’ arrogance vanished. They looked panicked, constantly checking the entrance, seemingly genuinely afraid the police would arrive. Finally, the leader pointed at Serena and barked, “You got lucky this time. Don’t let me catch you again.” With that, she and her followers hurried away. I stood behind Evan, watching this “bullying” with a blank expression. I stared quietly at the leader as she brushed past me. I flashed her a grin and whispered: “Long time no see.” The leader gave me a bewildered look, didn’t say a word, and hurried off. Of course I hadn’t forgotten her. This was Roxy. The very same girl who, in the neon bar, stood next to Serena, listening to her brag about her “player strategies,” and laughed the loudest. Evan looked stiffly at Serena in his arms. He awkwardly patted her back, saying gently, “It’s okay, don’t be scared. They’re gone.” Serena looked up. Even soaked in tears, her face was perfectly beautiful. There was no red slap mark, not even a trace of swelling. She looked at him with pitiful eyes. “Could you take me to the hospital?” Evan hesitated. He looked back at me. I gave a radiant smile. “Why go to the hospital? Let’s just go straight to our house, it’s right nearby. I’ll check you for injuries.”

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