1 I have a habit. Whenever I dine, watch films or ride taxis, I always leave the seat beside me vacant. I once truly believed Rick would fly into my city and surprise me out of the blue. Yet across our three years apart, he never visited once. I tried wedding gowns and booked the venue entirely alone, worn down to total exhaustion. Trembling, I sent him a message. [I have a 102-degree fever. No medicine at home.] He took thirty minutes to reply. [So what?] [Do you expect me to sprout wings and rush over with pills?] [I’m reviewing a project draft. Just get delivery meds.] My hands shook too hard to grip my phone, and I slipped into blackout. I woke to my best friend Arielle beside my bed, red-eyed as she handed warm water and tablets. “He only neglects you since you’re endlessly forgiving,” she murmured. “I would’ve broken things off ages ago.” Two weeks later, Arielle caught a severe fever too. I planned to hurry over to look after her. Then I spotted her social media post: a shot of a man’s hand gripping a soup spoon. Seasonal flu knocked me flat, but my knight dropped all work and drove five hundred miles overnight with homemade chicken soup. I knew that wrist instantly. The watch I’d spent six months’ wages buying for Rick sat right there. A harsh truth sank in. The spare seat next to me wasn’t empty from his distance. It was empty because he never cared enough to come. There was no sense saving that seat any longer; I’d only been fooling myself. I stood outside Arielle’s apartment door, holding a bag of medicine. The door wasn’t fully closed. Through the gap, I heard Arielle’s nasal, playful laugh. “You drove all night. What about the New York project? Are you really planning to stay in Boston for good?” Rick answered without a second of hesitation. “I don’t care about the project anymore.” “You were here with a fever, and I couldn’t stop worrying. I’ve already applied for a transfer back to the Boston office. No more long-distance.” Arielle’s tone was light. “Well, isn’t Candice going to be thrilled to hear that?” “I only care about making you happy.” My fingernails dug into the plastic handle of the bag, leaving a bloodless, stark white mark on my skin. Three years ago, holding my mother’s critical illness notice, I had tugged at his sleeve and begged him to stay. I asked him if we could avoid the long distance. He had picked up his suitcase and walked out without looking back. “Candice, you know how important this promotion is for me. I’m doing this for our future. Stop being so selfish.” The night he left to pursue his career, my mother passed away. I spent the night alone, shaking and crying in the dark. Over the past three years, I had suggested ending the long distance countless times. I had even offered to give up my career in Boston just to move to New York for him. But he rejected me every single time. “The cost of living in New York is too high. You coming here would only slow me down.” “Grow up, Candice. Stop using your emotions to hijack my career.” Yet that very career and future became entirely worthless the moment Arielle caught a cold. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Rick was sitting by the bed, holding a bowl of soup. When he saw me, his forehead creased instantly. “What are you doing here?” I placed the plastic bag of medicine on the nightstand. “I came to check on Arielle. And, apparently, to see the knight who flew five hundred miles.” Arielle quickly waved her hands in panic. “Candice, please don’t blame Rick. I was burning up last night and just complained to him offhand.” “I didn’t expect him to actually drop his work and run back. If you’re upset, I’ll tell him to leave right now.” Rick’s face darkened. “You’re this sick. Why would I leave?” He set the bowl down, looking entirely shameless. “Candice, drop the attitude.” “Arielle is your best friend. She has a 102-degree fever. Do you expect me to just sit back and watch her rot in here?” I looked at the bowl of chicken soup. The herbs, the shredded chicken, the perfect golden broth. It was a recipe I had spent weeks perfecting, writing down step-by-step instructions to teach him. Because he used to complain that the food in New York didn’t suit his taste. He was using the exact method I taught him to care for another woman. “I had a 102-degree fever two weeks ago,” I said quietly. “You told me to order delivery.” Rick paused, a flicker of hesitation crossing his eyes. “But you got through it on your own, didn’t you?” “Arielle is different from you. She isn’t as independent. Are you seriously throwing a tantrum over your own best friend?” Suddenly, the memory of myself begging him for help seemed incredibly pathetic. I let out a soft, self-mocking laugh. Seeing me laugh, his expression relaxed, replaced by a patronizing sigh of relief. “Good, you’re smiling. Let’s drop this, and don’t bring it up again.” “I’ve already applied to transfer back to Boston, so we won’t be apart anymore. You got what you wanted. Arielle just said she wants some cupcakes from that bakery on West Street. Go grab some.” I turned and walked out. My phone buzzed in my pocket. “Hi Ms. Candice, the wedding dress you liked has arrived. When would you like to come in for a fitting?” “No need. Please cancel it.” I used to think a long-distance relationship was just a long queue. As long as I kept the seat on my right open and waited, he would eventually sit down. Now I knew that the five-hour train ride was never the issue. He was never unable to return; he had simply changed his destination long ago. There was no point in waiting anymore. I didn’t buy the cupcakes. I went straight back to my apartment and started packing. I threw the extra toothbrush, the dark gray towel, and the matching mug from the bathroom sink straight into the trash. No matter where I lived, I had always kept a double set of everything. I had foolishly believed he would suddenly show up in Boston to surprise me. So I stubbornly kept half of my life empty for him. Now he was back, but the surprise wasn’t for me. Rick didn’t come home that night. Arielle posted another update. The best part of being sick is having someone stay up to watch a 2 AM movie with you. The attached photo showed the projector screen and the soft, gentle profile of a man’s face. It was the movie I had wanted to see for months. I had begged Rick to watch it with me, but he always dismissed it as boring. I liked her post. Three minutes later, a text from Rick popped up. [Get dressed and come downstairs. It’s Grandma’s 80th birthday today. I’m picking you up on the way to the family estate.] According to our original plan, today was also the day we were supposed to formally announce our engagement to his family. When I walked down, Arielle was already sitting in the passenger seat. She was holding a steaming latte, her other hand casually playing with a spare key to Rick’s apartment. The keychain had a hand-woven lucky knot I had made for him. Now, it was stained with coffee. She turned to me with a sweet smile. “Candice, you don’t mind me catching a ride, do you?” Rick turned up a French song Arielle liked on the radio. “Arielle just recovered. I didn’t feel safe leaving her alone, so I brought her along to get some fresh air at the estate.” “Besides, she’s still weak.” “You sit in the back.” Half an hour later, we arrived at the family estate. Arielle couldn’t wait to unbuckle her seatbelt. “Oh, I can smell the food already!” She naturally walked up to Rick’s side, and the two walked in shoulder-to-shoulder. I followed behind them like an insignificant shadow. In the main hall, his grandmother sat on the antique armchair. “Rick, bring your girl over. Let me get a look at her.” Arielle stepped forward gracefully. “Grandma, I wish you a very happy birthday.” The old lady smiled, patting Arielle’s hand. “This is the lovely girl you brought home last New Year’s Eve, right?” “So pretty. No wonder you’re always thinking about her.” A few relatives who actually knew me exchanged uneasy glances, their eyes shifting toward me. I picked up a cup of tea and took a slow sip of the warm water. Last New Year’s Eve, I had sat alone in Boston with a table of cold food. Rick had told me over the phone that a major crisis had hit his project, and his entire team was pulling an all-nighter at the office. As it turned out, his all-nighter was spent bringing Arielle home to meet his family. The old lady slid a stunning, deep green heirloom emerald bracelet off her wrist and placed it directly onto Arielle’s. “This has been passed down to the wife of the eldest grandson. I’m giving it to you today.” “Rick… I couldn’t possibly. Grandma has mistaken me for someone else.” Arielle made a show of protesting, but she made no move to take the bracelet off. Rick leaned down, whispering in my ear. “Candice, let Arielle keep it on for now. I’ll have her give it back to you after the party.” “Be sensible. Don’t throw a tantrum today of all days.” I shook my head. “No need to give it back.” Rick stared, a hint of approval flashing in his eyes. “It’s good that you can be so understanding. It actually looks quite nice on her anyway. I’ll buy you a new one some other day.” I set down my teacup. The aroma of the Earl Grey tea was rich. It was Arielle’s favorite blend, and even Rick’s grandmother had remembered her preference. The home I was supposedly entering for the first time was a place Arielle had already visited countless times. “Since the bracelet is already on her wrist, she should keep it.” “Rick, we’re done. Let’s break up.” The smile wiped off Rick’s face instantly. “Over a bracelet? Candice, when did you become so incredibly petty?” “Yes, over a bracelet.” Arielle frantically tried to pull the bracelet off. “Candice, please don’t be mad. I’m taking it off right now. You two have been together for nine years. You can’t let it ruin everything because of me.” In her haste, her wrist turned bright red, and tears welled up in her eyes. Rick grabbed her hand to stop her. “Why are you taking it off? You didn’t do anything wrong.” “Arielle isn’t fully recovered yet, and you’re forcing her to humiliate herself in public?” I couldn’t stand being there for another second. I turned and walked out. Behind me, whispers drifted from the dining hall. “She has a terrible temper.” “Exactly. Men have their harmless fun. She should learn to turn a blind eye.” Arielle spoke up softly. “Rick, go after her. Candice is just angry. Make sure she’s okay.” Rick sneered. “We’ve been together for nine years. She’s a thirty-year-old woman. Who else would even want her?” He raised his voice so it would carry out the door. “If someone wants to play hard to get, then we might just have to push the wedding date back a bit further.” Later, the wedding boutique owner sent me a picture of the main dress to confirm. “Ms. Candice, the deposit is non-refundable. You came in so many times for this. Are you sure you want to cancel?” I stared at the screen for a long time. I had tried on seventeen different dresses in that shop all by myself. Every picture I sent to Rick was met with a cold, detached reply: Busy. You decide. I finally realized that one person’s hope can never sustain a future meant for two. “Cancel it.” The next morning, I went to the office and found a transfer notice sitting on my desk. Due to poor recent performance, Candice is hereby reassigned to the administrative support team. Right after that, a company-wide announcement went out: Arielle was being promoted to Project Manager. The proposal attached to her promotion was the very project I had spent seven sleepless nights writing and revising fifteen times. The author’s name had been changed to Arielle. At the bottom of the document, the approver’s signature read: Rick. I dialed Rick’s number. “Saw the notice? I was just about to call you.” “Rick, why is my proposal under Arielle’s name?” He let out a dry laugh. “You embarrassed Arielle in front of my family yesterday. She went home and cried the entire night.” “Giving her this project is a way to comfort her, and a small lesson for you.” Arielle’s weak voice came through the receiver. “Candice, if you’re upset, I can give the position back to you.” Rick cut her off. “Don’t give back anything. She brought this on herself.” “Candice, if you behave and apologize to Arielle, the wedding is still on.” “I’ll make sure you get the next promotion.” The sheer absurdity of it washed over me. He was using my hard work to keep another woman happy. I said, “Fine.” After hanging up, I submitted my resignation and clicked confirm on the international offer I had received weeks ago. Right after I bought my plane ticket, my phone vibrated. An alert from my bank popped up: One million dollars debited. My breath caught. That was the inheritance my mother had left me, set aside for my dowry. Only Rick and I knew the password to that account. I called the bank customer service and tracked the recipient. I rushed to the luxury condo he had recently purchased. Rick and Arielle were sitting on the leather sofa, flipping through interior design catalogs. “Rick, I love the floor-to-ceiling windows in the master bedroom. The morning light must be gorgeous.” Rick smiled warmly. “If you like it, we’ll knock down the wall between the master bedroom and the guest room to make it bigger for you.” On the coffee table lay the newly signed purchase agreement. The name under the owner’s section read: Arielle. My chest heaved. “You took the money my mother left me?” He looked up, annoyance written all over his face. “We’re getting married anyway. The money was just sitting in the account. Might as well put it to good use.” “Then why is her name on the deed?” “Arielle grew up relying on charity. She’s always wanted a place to call home. She was worried she wouldn’t have a place here once we got married.” “Putting her name on the deed makes her feel secure.” A loud buzzing sound echoed in my head, and the final thread of my patience snapped. Arielle grew up on charity? Her parents died in a car crash when we were kids. I had begged my parents to take her in. My parents had treated her like their own daughter for twenty years, providing for her food, her clothes, her education. And now, in Rick’s mouth, it was “relying on charity.” Arielle grabbed my arm, her expression innocent. “Candice, if it really bothers you, I can move out anytime.” “But please believe me, Rick loves you. He even reserved the quietest bedroom on the north side just for you.” I violently yanked my arm back. “Don’t touch me!” “Give me back my money!” Arielle lost her balance and fell to the floor with a sharp cry. Rick’s face twisted in rage. He lunged forward and shoved me hard. I crashed against the doorframe, a dull, agonizing pain radiating through my shoulder. “Candice, you’re out of your mind! It’s just a house! Was it really necessary to get physical? I must have been blind to ever think about marrying a toxic woman like you!” Without looking back, he scooped Arielle into his arms and rushed out the door toward the hospital. I leaned against the doorframe to steady myself, then dialed my lawyer’s number. After handing the entire matter over to the firm, I hailed a cab and headed straight to the airport. The afternoon sun pierced through the airplane window, casting a warm light over my face.

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Born spoiled, I’d always been the center of my family’s world. On move-in day, bodyguards hauled my custom luggage into the dorm. Scanning the cramped room, I laid down my rules. AC at seventy, nonstop. Silence after eleven. Wipe the bathroom dry after every use. No manual labor—five hundred a pop for chores. My three roommates stared, stunned. “Don’t take this wrong,” I added. “First time sharing a room. Better to be upfront.” Then I handed out gifts: full La Mer sets and the latest Apple bundles. Their eyes lit up; they squealed, calling me a god. Yet the dorm’s quiet martyr, Melissa, stirred trouble. She whined I was flaunting charity, insulting her pride. “She thinks money buys me,” she sneered. Even wilder, my fiancé Preston flew in from Europe to defend her. “Jena, tone it down,” he snapped. “Melissa’s got nothing. Dumping luxuries on her is suffocating. Drop the spoiled act.” Watching him shield her, I laughed. Since they saw me as a bully, I’d show them exactly how a true Upper East Side heiress operates. 1 My family is obscenely wealthy. My friends always jokingly call me Manhattan royalty. Honestly, it is not much of a joke. I have the backing of a century-old elite dynasty. So when I stood in the doorway of a dorm room smaller than my walk-in closet at home, realizing four girls were supposed to live here, I genuinely had a headache. I waited in the hallway until my bodyguards finished setting up my bed, and only then did I step inside. My three roommates were standing awkwardly to the side, sizing me up. Their faces displayed unfiltered, blatant judgment. I glanced at the line of bodyguards standing outside the door and the mountain of designer luggage taking up half the dorm. Okay, maybe it was a bit excessive. I took a seat on my freshly made mattress, offering a polite smile to my new roommates. “Hi everyone. I am Jena Kensington, born and raised in New York. We are going to be roommates for the next four years.” “I have never shared a room before, so I have a few ground rules.” “First, the AC stays at seventy degrees all day. I will pay the electricity bill.” “Second, I am a very light sleeper. Total silence after eleven at night.” The three girls across from me exchanged incredibly awkward looks. Their eyes screamed two words: high maintenance. I waved my hand, and my bodyguards carried in three massive gift boxes. “These are welcome gifts from Miss Kensington,” one of the men announced. The three girls opened their boxes, and their faces went entirely blank for a solid minute. Full sets of La Mer skincare, brand new MacBook Pros, iPads, iPhones, and a massive Chanel lipstick vault. I knew my demands were a bit much, so buttering them up with gifts was only fair. This was standard networking in my social circle anyway. Throwing money at a problem is always infinitely cheaper than owing someone a favor. “I do not mean anything malicious by this. I just want to set boundaries early so we do not fight later.” A girl named Brooke, who had a loud and outgoing vibe, immediately accepted the terms. “Oh my god! I thought we were getting a spoiled brat with princess syndrome, but we got actual royalty!” “You are way too generous, I almost feel bad taking this.” I offered a soft smile. “Also, I refuse to do manual labor and I do not clean. If you clean my area, it is five hundred dollars. If you pick up my packages from the mailroom, it is a thousand.” I paused for a second before continuing. “If you guys are not comfortable with that, I can always ask the girls next door.” Brooke jumped up instantly, pulling the girl next to her, Roxy, up with her. “I am comfortable! Things like serving royalty should absolutely stay in-house. Consider me hired.” Roxy looked at me with more determination than my own security detail. “Miss Jena, I actually know a bit of martial arts. I will be your personal bodyguard on campus!” As the ice broke and we started laughing, I noticed the last girl, Melissa, sitting quietly in the corner. She was gripping the designer shopping bags so hard her knuckles were white, biting her lower lip. I did not think much of it at the time. I just assumed she was shy and took longer to warm up to people. I had no idea this girl was about to bring the most unexpected drama into my college life. 2 When did I realize things were weird? Girls from the neighboring dorms would pass me in the hallway and pretend I was invisible instead of smiling like they used to. During lectures, everyone sat a solid three seats away from me, except for Brooke and Roxy. I thought I was just being paranoid. After all, I grew up in gated estates with security so tight I barely ever saw my own neighbors. I did not have a great radar for being socially iced out. Until one night, Brooke finally snapped. I had just stepped out of the shower, toweling my damp hair, when Brooke pushed the door open and sat on the edge of my bed with a bizarre expression. “Jena, have you seen this?” “Seen what?” She hesitated, then pulled out her phone and opened a massive group chat. I scrolled up. A girl named Ashley had fired off three consecutive texts. “Do you guys know that Jena girl from class four? She brought literal bodyguards on the first day. She really thinks she is a princess.” “She gave her roommates La Mer, but the catch is they have to be her maids. Five hundred to clean, a thousand to fetch packages. Is that not just humiliating people with money?” “Melissa from the dorm next door told me. She said she felt incredibly humiliated receiving the gifts, but was too terrified to say no because she did not want to get on Jena’s bad side.” Reading that, I admit, my blood pressure spiked. There were nearly a hundred replies under Ashley’s texts. Some called me a tasteless newly-rich snob, while others called me a toxic elitist. Someone even sent a row of candle emojis with a sarcastic comment: “Poor Melissa, having to share a room with a monster like that.” I handed the phone back to Brooke. “Melissa started all this?” “The texts literally name-drop her, but look at Melissa playing dumb in the chat!” Brooke was fuming. I scrolled further down. Melissa had sent a pitiful little paragraph. “I did not want everyone to know. I just complained to Ashley privately. Please do not attack Jena or cause her any trouble.” Brooke rolled her eyes so hard I thought they would get stuck. “Give me a break! A private complaint that somehow spread to three different majors?” I stayed quiet. Brooke thought I was genuinely hurt and quickly added, “Jena, do not let it get to you. Bitches like her just cannot stand seeing other people thrive. If you want to put her in her place, I have your back!” I shook my head. “No need. Something this petty does not require an operation.” The next morning on my way to class, I purposely walked right past Melissa’s usual row. She was staring down at her textbook. Without a word, I dropped my bag and sat in the empty seat right next to her. She stiffened instantly. The girls sitting around her darted nervous glances in my direction. I unlocked my phone, pulled up the screenshot of the group chat, and slid it directly onto her textbook. “Care to explain?” Melissa took one look at the screen, quickly shoved the phone back toward me, and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I… I just felt a little uncomfortable, so I casually vented. It was just a joke.” I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “You gladly accepted my La Mer, the Apple tech bundle, and the Chanel lipsticks. And then you went behind my back and told the entire school I was giving you charity? That I used my money to humiliate you?” Her eyes instantly flooded with tears. A few students nearby were already turning their heads. Melissa suddenly covered her face with her hands, her shoulders trembling as her voice cracked into a sob. “Jena, what did I ever do to you? Why are you hunting me down just to bully me?” She sniffled, looking up at me with eyes full of stubborn grievance. “You dumped all those wildly expensive things on me. I know you are filthy rich, but you know exactly what my financial situation is. How am I supposed to pay you back?” “I am terrified to even use them. I leave them in my closet and feel sick looking at them every day. So what if I complained to Ashley? Am I not allowed to have feelings?” I sat there in total silence, watching her put on a masterclass performance. Melissa simply stood up, her chair legs screeching harshly against the floor. “Yes, I am poor! So just because I took your stuff, I am supposed to fall on my knees and worship you?” “What gives you the right to act so superior and dictate our relationship? You weaponized your money to crush my self-esteem. Am I not allowed to feel uncomfortable?” The moment she finished her speech, the tears fell even harder. The students around us started whispering furiously. “Jena, back off. Just because you have money does not mean you can psychologically torture people.” My voice was deadpan. “Melissa, are you done crying?” Her sobbing hitched for a second. “First. If you felt so incredibly guilty and pressured by the gifts, you can bring them all back to me tomorrow.” “Second. You claim my money turned you into a slave. Funny how you did not feel humiliated when you were cashing in.” Her mouth opened, tears still streaming down her cheeks, but no words came out. I stood up and smoothed out my jacket. “I saved the screenshots from the group chat. I strongly advise you to watch your step.” I cast a cold glance at the crowd of self-righteous students around us. “I do not care if they believe your little act. But cross me again, and I will not be this polite.” After my warning, Melissa and her internet defenders stayed dead silent for two days. But a week later, I received a phone call from my fiancé, Preston. 3 Preston is my fiancé. Our families go way back. When we were ten years old, the adults had dinner and finalized our arranged marriage right on the spot. If you scrolled up in our chat history, his last message was a dry “Happy New Year” from months ago. “Jena, is Melissa your roommate?” “You know her?” “She is my family’s sponsored charity student. We have paid her tuition since high school. She called me a few days ago, crying hysterically for hours.” I inspected my manicure, entirely unbothered. “And?” “She said you forced incredibly expensive gifts on her, and she was too terrified of being isolated to refuse. Later, she vented about the pressure in the dorm, and you publicly humiliated her in front of the entire lecture hall.” Preston sighed, his tone dripping with condescension. “Jena, she really struggles financially. Your lifestyle is a massive burden to her. Can you just tone it down? Interact with people normally instead of throwing your wealth in their faces.” “I am saying this for your own good. Your arrogant personality is going to make you a lot of enemies.” I basically had the whole picture now. Melissa had the guts to spread rumors behind my back because she thought she had a powerful backer. But she severely miscalculated one tiny detail. Preston did not have the authority to lecture me. I found the entire situation hilarious. “Preston, you know perfectly well that if I actually wanted to ruin someone, they would not even be allowed to set foot in New York.” Preston choked on his words. Before he could respond, I hung up. A man who could not even be bothered to text me on holidays for ten straight years had just flown across the Atlantic to lecture me over a charity case. I tossed my phone onto my desk. Brooke leaned over, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Jena, who was that?” “A self-important idiot.” The next afternoon, Preston was leaning against a luxury sedan right outside the campus gates. He was dressed in a sharp custom suit, exuding the effortless arrogance of someone who had never worked a day in his life. Standing right beside him was Melissa, her head bowed, eyes red-rimmed, looking like she had just survived a war zone. As I walked out of the gates, Preston stepped forward and blocked my path. “Jena. We need to talk.” I glanced at the crowd of nosy students gathering around us and gave a short nod. We sat down in a high-end cafe near campus. Melissa sat practically glued to Preston’s side. She kept her eyes glued to the table, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her shirt. Preston cut straight to the chase. “Jena, maybe I was not clear enough on the phone yesterday, so I will say it to your face.” “Melissa has had a brutal life. Getting into this university took everything she had. Your extravagant gifts and the way you speak to her are psychologically crushing.” I leaned back into the plush leather chair, took a sip of my iced lemon water, and said absolutely nothing. Seeing me ignore him, Preston’s frown deepened. “You were spoiled rotten by your family since birth. You cannot comprehend the struggles of normal people. But since you are my fiancée, I expect you to have some basic empathy.” “Melissa has cried to me multiple times. She says she is terrified to even breathe in the dorm, constantly paranoid that she will upset you.” Melissa finally looked up, her voice trembling violently. “Preston, please stop. Jena is not targeting me. I am just too sensitive. It is all my fault.” As she spoke, fresh tears rolled down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away with her sleeve in a blatant display of tragic bravery. Seeing this, Preston’s face darkened completely. When he turned back to me, his voice was laced with pure anger. “Jena, look at what you have reduced her to! Can you not just swallow your pride and apologize to her?” I finally set my glass down and looked Preston dead in the eye. “Preston. How old are you?” He froze. “What?” “You are twenty-five, right?” I let out a mocking laugh. “A twenty-five-year-old man getting played like a fiddle by a teenager. You flew all the way back from Europe just to play white knight. Do you not feel pathetic?” Preston’s face turned completely rigid. “Jena, watch your attitude.” I tilted my head, my gaze completely bypassing him to lock onto Melissa. “Melissa. I will ask you one last time. Did I, or did I not, bully and humiliate you?” My voice was eerily calm. Melissa bit her lip so hard it almost bled. “You… you forced the gifts on me in front of everyone. I was too scared to say no.” I let out a harsh scoff. “Too scared to say no, but perfectly fine turning around and telling the whole campus I treated you like a beggar?” “Fine. If you were so scared to take them, give them back. Go to the dorm right now and bring them to me. I will wait.” Melissa’s face drained of all color. “What is wrong? Can you not bear to part with them?” I tilted my head, staring her down. “Or have you already cracked open the La Mer? Booted up the MacBook? Swatched the Chanel lipsticks?” Melissa’s tears spilled over again. She turned frantically to Preston, her voice cracking. “Preston, I swear I did not. I did not open them. I have not even touched the packaging.” Preston reached out and patted her shoulder protectively, then shot me a venomous glare. “Jena, that is enough! It is just some cheap skincare. Why are you acting like a psycho over this?” “Melissa is poor, so what if she is a little sensitive? Can you not just be the bigger person and let it go?” His words were so absurd I actually laughed, but the warmth completely vanished from my eyes. “Preston, I dropped thousands of dollars of my own money to ensure a peaceful living environment for four people. And somehow I am the villain?” Preston took a deep breath, trying to suppress his temper. “Jena, regardless of your intentions, your arrogant attitude is the problem. You have always been.” “My arrogance is backed by my family’s empire. I do not owe her a single thing.” Preston suddenly shot up from his chair. “Jena! You are crossing the line! I came here in good faith to mediate, and you are purposely making this as ugly as possible!” “You are humiliating Melissa in public. Do you have zero conscience?” Melissa tugged at his sleeve, sobbing quietly. “Preston, please, let us just go. It is my fault. I should never have told you.” Preston glared at me, his chest heaving with rage. Then, he violently snatched the iced coffee from the table and sloshed it directly across my chest. “Jena, I will make you get on your knees and beg Melissa for forgiveness.” The shock of the freezing coffee left me stunned for exactly two seconds. When I looked up, Melissa was hiding behind him, the triumphant smirk in her eyes completely undisguised. I snapped out of it, blinking hard until my eyes were genuinely red and glassy. Then I pulled out my phone, snapped a selfie of my ruined blouse, recorded a tearful voice memo, and sent it straight to my family group chat. “Daddy. Preston hit me and threw coffee on me to defend a charity student. My eyes are swollen from crying.” Across the table, Preston sneered. “Our families are close allies. Do you really think playing the victim is going to get me punished? You really think you are a princess!” Three. Two. One. Screeching tires echoed from the street, followed instantly by the cafe doors being violently shoved open. “Who has a death wish and dares to touch my precious girl?!”

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Just as I had convinced myself to become a sugar baby for a greasy, middle-aged businessman, floating text suddenly materialized out of thin air right in front of my eyes. [This cannon fodder side character is ridiculously stupid. Her roommates are using her selfies to catfish hot billionaires, and she is out here willingly settling for a wrinkled creep.] [The worst part? She catches something incurable from the old guy, loses her mind, and ends up jumping off a roof. Tragic.] [You have to admit, the female lead is an absolute genius. To avoid getting caught, she dragged her other two roommates into the catfish ring so they were all complicit.] [The funniest plot twist is that the three billionaires are childhood best friends. LMAO. They were all hiding their online relationships from each other. If they had just compared notes once!] [In the end, all three guys fall for the female lead in real life. It just proves they did not love the side character’s face, they loved the female lead’s beautiful soul.] Behind me, my three roommates were busy flexing the luxury gifts their “online boyfriends” had just sent them. Brittany, the self-appointed dorm president, suddenly called my name and pointed her phone camera at me. “Sienna, give me a heart!” I looked straight into the lens and smiled sweeter than I ever had in my life. Since they were using my face as bait to reel in these massive catches, it was only fair that I claimed the fish for myself, right? 01 [Oh my god, Brittany sent that photo to Asher, and he absolutely loved it. He just transferred her another five grand to buy the newest iPhone.] [Asher is not just new money, his family has deep political ties. Five grand is literally pocket change to him. But whatever, all his wealth is going to belong to our female lead baby eventually anyway.] I looked down at my own phone. The screen was shattered like a spiderweb. Five grand for a single selfie. I fully admit, I was deeply jealous. Brittany should have been thrilled about the cash, but she suddenly let out a panicked gasp. The other two girls instantly swarmed her desk, asking what was wrong. Brittany shot a look in my direction, clearly thinking she was being subtle. Vanessa, who was sitting closest to me, cleared her throat and put on a fake smile. “Sienna, were you about to head to the dining hall? Could you grab a salad for me?” Ever since these three started their billionaire catfish operations, they decided campus food was beneath them and exclusively ordered delivery from five-star restaurants. If Astor University did not have a strict mandatory dorm policy for underclassmen, they would have rented luxury apartments off-campus ages ago. Vanessa was obviously just finding a cheap excuse to get rid of me. I kept a perfectly straight face, quietly slipped a disposable paper cup into my sleeve, and smoothly agreed before walking out. The moment the door clicked shut, I pressed the open end of the cup flat against the wood and pressed my ear to it. Brittany’s voice came through, trembling with sheer panic. “What do I do? Ash is asking to meet up in person again.” “This is the third time. If I reject him again, he is definitely going to get suspicious.” Brittany had milked Asher dry. In just one year, she had hoarded over a dozen designer bags, not to mention a mountain of other extravagant gifts. For her birthday this year, he literally shipped her a diamond necklace worth tens of thousands of dollars. Having grown addicted to this lavish lifestyle, Brittany was terrified of losing her golden goose. In comparison, Vanessa remained entirely calm, playing the mastermind. “Just agree to the date for now. When the time comes, tell him your roommate had a medical emergency and you cannot make it. Penny and I will back up your story.” Brittany acted like she had just been handed a life preserver, thanking Vanessa profusely. With the crisis averted, the dorm fell silent. The floating comments, however, were going absolutely wild. [Our female lead is truly the brains of this trio. So smart!] [Those two should literally worship the ground the female lead walks on. They would not have a dime without her brilliant ideas.] [Luckily, all three male leads eventually fall for the female lead, forcing these two freeloading parasites to cough up everything they stole.] Reading that, I finally confirmed my theory. Vanessa was the legendary “female lead” the comments were raving about. And that greasy old man I almost sold my soul to? He was a contact Vanessa had specially introduced to me. 02 I did not even have to eavesdrop to find out the details. The floating text helpfully leaked the exact location of Brittany and Asher’s supposed date. Incredibly, it was the exact same luxury hotel where I had just been hired for a part-time job two days ago. Because I had previously planned on accepting the sugar daddy arrangement, I had lost all motivation to work and called the hotel to decline the job. Thankfully, when I called the hiring manager back, he did not give me any grief. He told me I could come in and start my shift immediately. I could not help but reach up and touch my own cheek. I knew exactly why the manager was so accommodating. It was because of my face. Ever since middle school, I knew I was stunning. My locker was constantly stuffed with love letters. But my mother always drilled it into my head that I should never use my looks for deceitful gains. So I had always kept my head down, relying on my own hard work to make a living, never once considering taking a shortcut. Ironically, I refused to take the shortcut, but someone else happily borrowed my face to take it for me. I rushed to the hotel. Thanks to my looks, I was immediately assigned to the front entrance as a VIP greeter. Through the comments, I knew Asher had been sitting in his private dining suite waiting for Brittany for three solid hours. Exactly five minutes ago, he received the text that he was being stood up. Catching a glimpse of a tall, imposing figure descending the grand staircase, I deliberately shifted my tray of drinks and crashed right into him. Asher was already visibly frustrated from being stood up by his online girlfriend. When I bumped into him, his head snapped up, his eyes flashing with irritation. I kept my head bowed, frantically apologizing while dabbing at his expensive suit jacket with a napkin. Right before he could snap at me, I jerked my head up. The absolute second Asher saw my face, he froze completely. He grabbed my wrist with an iron grip, his voice cracking with unfiltered shock and joy. “Baby?!” I put on a flawless mask of confusion and quickly yanked my hand back. “Sir, I believe you have the wrong person.” Asher panicked, stepping closer. “Baby, it is me. It is Ash.” “Sir, I honestly do not know you. Please step back.” My absolute coldness acted like a bucket of ice water over Asher’s enthusiasm. He stood frozen in the lobby, his expression cycling through confusion, realization, and then a dark, stormy anger. Just as the tension reached a breaking point, my cell phone rang. 03 Listening to the voice on the other end, I let my tears spill over, crying silently and beautifully. I hung up the phone. Completely ignoring the mess I had made and not even bothering to tell my manager, I bolted toward the hotel exit. Asher chased right after me. He reached out, instinctively wanting to wipe the tears from my cheeks. But his hand hovered in the air, stopping just short of my skin. I did not let him pull away. I grabbed his hovering hand, letting my tears fall thick and fast. “Sir, do you have a car? It is impossible to get a cab around here right now. Could I please beg you to drive me to City General Hospital?” In the passenger seat, I kept up a quiet, heartbreaking rhythm of soft sobs. Asher kept his eyes on the road, freeing up one hand to pass me a tissue. “Did something happen? Maybe I can help.” I bit my lip, looking incredibly embarrassed. “We are complete strangers. You driving me is already too much of an imposition.” Asher glanced at me. “It is fine. I just like helping people.” Getting the exact opening I needed, my cheeks flushed red, and I asked with hesitant desperation, “Could you… could you possibly lend me some money?” Terrified he would think I was a scammer, I quickly promised, “I swear I will pay you back. I can write you a formal IOU right now.” My mother was diagnosed with acute leukemia last year. She required long-term hospitalization and aggressive chemotherapy. The hospital had just issued a final notice. If we did not clear the massive balance today, she was getting kicked out of her bed. I watched Asher’s brows furrow deeply. I lowered my eyes, playing the tragic victim. Thanks to the comments, I knew Brittany’s entire persona with Asher was stolen straight from my actual life. A dead father, a critically ill mother, and a beautifully broken girl holding it all together. Brittany had milked a fortune out of him using my real tragedy. Same face. Same exact tragic backstory. If Asher could not put the pieces together now, his IQ was genuinely in the single digits. When Asher finally spoke, his voice was tight and raspy. “Are you absolutely sure you have never heard the name Ash?” I tilted my head, pretending to search my memory very hard. “I really have not. But it does sound slightly familiar, like someone mentioned it in passing.” Asher did not say another word for the rest of the drive. When we got to the hospital billing department, he bypassed me entirely and deposited a flat hundred thousand dollars into my mother’s account, guaranteeing we would not have to worry about bills for at least three months. Because of Asher’s massive deposit, the staff even upgraded my mother to an intensive care VIP suite. Watching my mother sleep peacefully, a massive weight lifted off my chest. I pulled out my phone and sent a twenty-dollar tip to the nurse who had agreed to call me at that exact time. Exposing Brittany’s lies to Asher was really just a side quest today. Securing my mother’s treatment was the real victory. Finally catching my breath, I looked up at the floating comments. [Is this side character completely insane? Her little stunt just threw the female lead’s entire plan into chaos.] [Asher is completely ignoring Brittany’s texts. Brittany is throwing a massive tantrum in the dorm, blaming the female lead for giving her a terrible excuse.] [Our female lead baby has never been treated this unfairly! She tried to help, and now she is getting yelled at. I am so mad!] 04 I had already drafted the IOU while sitting in the hospital waiting room. On the drive back, I held it out to Asher, but he refused to take it. I stubbornly kept my hand suspended in the air, playing the role of the fiercely independent, prideful poor girl to absolute perfection. Asher finally sighed deeply, shaking his head in defeat as he accepted the piece of paper. I could feel it. The way he looked at me had completely changed. Whenever Brittany took his money, she never once politely declined. Half the time, she outright asked for it. Before today, Asher probably did not think much of it. But now, comparing her greedy behavior to my stubborn, tearful independence, Asher was obviously feeling a deep sense of whiplash. Even though this amount of money was nothing to him, this was the fundamental flaw in the male ego. I can give it to you, but you are not allowed to reach out and demand it. More importantly, Asher originally fell for Brittany because of my face. He only bothered to learn about her “inner beauty” because he was captivated by my photos. When Asher offered to drive me all the way back to campus, I politely declined. I asked him to drop me off back at the hotel where I worked. Just before I stepped out of the car, Asher suddenly pulled up a photo on his phone and asked me when it was taken. I nailed the look of utter bewilderment. “Why do you have a picture of me on your phone?” Asher looked me dead in the eye. “My online girlfriend sent it to me.” I muttered softly, acting incredibly confused. “Online girlfriend…” I suddenly froze, my eyes widening in horror as I slapped a hand over my mouth. Asher’s sharp gaze locked onto me. “You know something, do you not?” I stammered, looking terrified, before finally spilling the beans about my three roommates and their massive online dating ring. “That photo… my roommate Vanessa took it yesterday. She loves taking candid pictures of me in the dorm.” In reality, Brittany was the one obsessed with snapping pictures of me. Even though all three roommates used my face, their methods were completely different. Brittany preferred the organic route, constantly finding sneaky excuses to take real-time photos of me. Penny was lazy, she just stole old pictures off my social media feeds. Vanessa, the female lead, was the true mastermind. She used advanced AI to manipulate my face into whatever videos or photos she needed. She even used deepfake software to video chat with her targets. By pinning the blame entirely on Vanessa right in front of Asher, I was throwing her straight under the bus. The floating text instantly exploded, cursing me out with every vile word in the dictionary. Watching Asher’s face turn completely thunderous, I slowly closed my eyes. The comments insisted that Asher would eventually fall in love with Vanessa’s brilliant mind anyway. I decided I was going to sever that little red thread of fate right here, right now. 05 Asher operated with ruthless efficiency. He dumped Brittany instantly, demanding she return every single penny he had spent on her, or he was bringing down a massive lawsuit on her head. But the money was already gone. Brittany desperately begged Penny and Vanessa for a loan, throwing an absolutely apocalyptic tantrum in the dorm. She straight up blackmailed them. Because Penny had once logged into her social media on Brittany’s laptop, Brittany had secretly memorized the username of Penny’s billionaire boyfriend. If they did not bail her out, she was going to expose all of them. If she was going down, she was dragging the whole ship with her. I have no idea how the three of them negotiated a truce behind closed doors. All I know is that the mountain of designer bags stacked in Vanessa and Penny’s closets mysteriously vanished overnight. And Brittany was permanently exiled from their little alliance. The second I walked into the dorm, the atmosphere was suffocatingly weird. Looking at Brittany sitting alone in the corner, I knew this was only the beginning of her nightmare. I pretended to be completely oblivious and sat down at my desk to study. Vanessa suddenly hovered over me and physically dragged me out into the hallway. She looked at me, eyes burning with gossip. “My aunt told me your mom’s hospital bill was completely paid off today.” She paused, winking conspiratorially. “Did you go on a date with Mr. Henderson this morning?” Mr. Henderson was the greasy old creep Vanessa had so generously introduced me to. Vanessa’s aunt worked as a nurse at the hospital where my mother was admitted. That was how Vanessa found out about my desperate financial situation, allowing her to “kindly” point me toward selling my body to an old man. I looked at Vanessa’s eagerly expectant face and shook my head. “Someone lent me the money. I paid it off for now.” Vanessa looked highly skeptical. “That is a massive amount of cash. Who would casually lend you that kind of money?” “Besides, loans have to be paid back eventually.” She was gearing up to gaslight me into calling Mr. Henderson, ready to hype up his wealth and generosity. I cut her off smoothly. I remembered reading online that the fastest way to make someone shut up is to ask them for a loan. “Vanessa, your boyfriend buys you all those luxury bags and gives you a massive weekly allowance. Could you lend me some money to pay off my debt?” Vanessa snapped her mouth shut instantly. She stuttered out a pathetic excuse about how she had already spent all her allowance. She was not entirely lying. Every dime she scammed off her online boyfriend went straight into funding her elite spa treatments and luxury skincare routines. Before I could press her further, Vanessa spun around and darted back into the dorm. I followed right behind her, just in time to hear Penny sighing in massive relief. “Thank god Declan has not demanded we meet in person yet.” Unfortunately for her, she was celebrating way too early.

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1 A TikTok street interview went viral; the host asked Ryan how he maintains a long relationship. Smiling to the camera, Ryan shared they never skip daily routines even mid-fights: goodnight texts, meal photos and constant updates. The quote shot him to top trends, netizens praising him as the ideal boyfriend. Among warm comments stood one bitter reply from his ex Natalie, claiming Ryan used to have a violent temper. My smile faded. Their breakup was brutal, so I rushed to defend him online. I wrote he calms his rage by assembling furniture at our future house and sends blurry work photos to signal he needs comfort. Users went crazy over his thoughtfulness. My training ended early, so I rebooked a flight to surprise and comfort him in person. The door of our new house hung ajar when I arrived. Ryan pinned a woman against our wedding portrait, her messy handprints smearing my face in the photo. My hand shook on the doorknob. His daily reminder chimed. He snapped a blurry photo of curtains and tossed his phone aside. The woman sneered that his sweet girlfriend would collapse if she learned the truth behind those photos. Ryan stayed cold and unyielding, telling her to hush and calling me a far better girl than her.In my pocket, my phone vibrated. The blurry, dark picture of the curtains popped up on my screen. With a slight shudder of my hand, the door swung open. Our eyes locked. Ryan froze for a brief moment, then slowly, calmly, he began buttoning his shirt. He walked over and took the suitcase from my hand. “Maybe it is better you saw this. Keeping it from you was getting exhausting.” He pointed at the woman. “This is Natalie. My ex.” Natalie arched an eyebrow. She walked past me to the cabinet, pulling out a bath towel with practiced ease. She looked me up and down, then tilted her head toward Ryan. “You have decent taste. No wonder you like her. The sweet girl looks even better in person than she does on social media.” Ryan’s expression darkened. He grabbed her wrist. “Social media? She is different from you. Stay away from her.” Natalie slapped his hand away, stuck her tongue out, and strolled into the bathroom. The sound of running water started almost immediately. Ryan turned back to me, pulling me toward the sofa. “If you were coming back early, why didn’t you ask me to pick you up?” He sighed, trying to smooth things over. “Even when we fight, I am still your boyfriend.” It took me a long time to find my voice. “Not anymore,” I whispered. Ryan’s brow furrowed. With a sudden sweep of his hand, the orange-scented candle I had brought back as a gift was knocked off the coffee table, shattering on the floor. “Jane, I can never bring myself to take my anger out on you. What is so wrong with me finding an outlet?” He glared at me. “I update you on every single detail of my day. Is that still not enough for you?” In an instant, his words tore open a buried memory. Years ago, my parents had a silent fight, and my father walked out, vanishing for a week. My mother had gone out into a raging blizzard, crying as she tried to reach the police station, only to receive the news of my father’s fatal car crash. She collapsed in the snow, breaking her leg. At the funeral, Ryan held my trembling hand and whispered over and over, “Don’t be afraid, Jane. I will always tell you where I am. I will update you on everything so you never have to worry.” Now, the sharp scent of the orange candle mixed with the musk of sex in the room, making my eyes burn with tears. Ryan’s warm fingertips touched my cheek, his tone softening. “The house is finished. Let’s get married. We can move your mother in with us.” He pulled a ring box from his pocket. “I even designed the place with her in mind.” I looked around the apartment. There were no thresholds at the entrance, the hallways were wide enough for a wheelchair to turn smoothly, and all the sharp corners of the furniture were wrapped in soft padding. My chest tightened. The doctor had told me my mother’s health was failing rapidly, and her greatest wish was to see me walk down the aisle. The bathroom door clicked open. Natalie stepped out, wrapping the towel loosely around herself. “So? Does she like the ring?” She smiled, looking at us. “Since we fell for the same man, our tastes must be identical.” She patted Ryan on the shoulder, the towel slipping down a fraction more. “Just deduct my consulting fee from my wedding registry gift.” I could not take it anymore. I grabbed the ring and hurled it straight at her face. “Why are you always here? Do you not have your own home? Why do you have to ruin everything?” A heavy silence fell over the room. Natalie’s eyes welled with tears, and she let out a bitter, self-deprecating laugh. “Actually, I don’t. My dad abandoned us, and my mom died of a heart attack.” She bent down, picked up the ring, and placed it on the coffee table. As she pulled on her coat, she mumbled, “I’ll leave. If you need a discount on wedding catering, let me know. I can get you a deal.” Ryan grabbed her by the wrist to stop her. He turned his gaze to me, the anger in his eyes no longer hidden. “Jane, didn’t you just say we were broken up?” My mouth opened, but no sound came out. He let out a cold laugh, grabbed my suitcase, and pushed me out into the hallway. The door slammed shut in my face. Through the thin wood, I heard his voice, sharp and clear. “Then who said this house was yours?” At three in the morning, the wind off the river was freezing, bringing down a sudden torrent of rain. Standing by the curb in nothing but thin clothes and slippers, the rain poured down my collar and ran down my back. I shivered to the bone. I hailed a cab back to the research institute’s staff apartments. The driver was an older woman. She glanced at me in the rearview mirror and spoke gently. “Sweetheart, there is nothing in this life you can’t get over. The past is just scenery. You have to keep moving forward.” She paused, handing me a tissue. “My daughter is about your age. Don’t cry. Your mother would be heartbroken to see you like this.” I reached up to touch my face, only to realize I was completely drenched in tears. She was right. I had to look forward. I took a deep breath and sent a message to my director. “I will take the lead on the joint research project in Boston.” Within seconds, my phone rang. The old director’s voice was filled with excitement. “You’ll take it? That changes everything. Our success rate just doubled. I thought you backed out because you were getting married. I’ll book your flight right away.” When I unlocked the door to my apartment, I was shocked to find Ryan sitting on the sofa. Hearing the door, he stood up, wrapping his arms around me and burying his face in my neck. “Jane, I am so sorry. You have no idea how worried I was about you.” I pushed him away, looking straight into his eyes. I held out my hand. “Give me back my keys.” Ryan gripped my shoulders, his tone patronizing, as if he were dealing with a throwing a tantrum. “Stop being childish, Jane. Tomorrow I will help you pack, we will move your things to our new place, and then we will head to City Hall to register our marriage.” He hesitated before adding, “But Natalie has no one else in this world. We should set aside the guest room for her, okay?” My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was the confirmation for my flight to Boston, departing in three days. I gave a dull nod. Ryan stared at me, visibly caught off guard by how quickly I had surrendered. A relieved smile spread across his face. “I missed you so much while you were gone.” He leaned in to kiss me, but a wave of nausea washed over me. I pushed him away and gagged. He reached out to pat my back, but I took a sharp step away from him. His fingers hovered in the air before he slowly pulled his hand back. The next second, his phone began to ring. “Ryan, Natalie just had a massive asthma attack at the mixology competition!” Ryan hung up the phone. When he looked at me, his eyes were filled with profound disappointment. “Jane, don’t do things like this again.” I stared at him, confused. He rubbed his temples, looking exhausted. “You saw on her social media that she has asthma, so you deliberately brought that orange-scented candle into the house to trigger her.” “Stop these pathetic little games.” “Get some sleep. I will come by to help you move tomorrow.” The door clicked shut behind him. Outside, the headlights of his car swept across the window before fading into the rainy night. My phone screen lit up with endless notifications from the institute’s group chat. “Jane, let’s celebrate your promotion and the Boston trip. We are out tonight, come join us!” I looked at the bar location they shared. It looked familiar. Perhaps driven by the final, stubborn ember of resentment in my chest, I replied, “On my way.” The bar was a blur of flashing lights and loud music. My colleague Lily immediately pulled me into a booth and handed me a glass of juice. “You finally made it! This place is famous for its live mixology tournaments.” She pointed toward the stage. In the center of the spotlight, Natalie was flipping bottles, the liquor carving elegant arcs through the air. I let out a bitter laugh. Of course it was this bar. Lily leaned in closer, whispering the local gossip. “You missed the drama earlier. The bartender coughed a few times, and this incredibly handsome guy rushed in from outside. I heard he is her ex. Apparently, they had a horrible breakup years ago, but true love always finds a way, right?” I followed her gaze. Right across from the stage, Ryan was leaning back in a leather chair, a drink in his hand, his eyes locked onto Natalie. When his eyes shifted and caught mine, he froze. He stood up abruptly, cutting through the crowded dance floor, and grabbed my wrist with a tight grip. “Jane, are you stalking me?” He hissed. “Do you really trust me that little?” Lily leaned over, confused. “Jane, is this the devoted guy from online? Are you guys friends?” Only then did Ryan notice my colleague sitting next to me. I took a slow sip of my juice and smiled faintly. “No, we aren’t close.” In our three years together, he had never once attended a single gathering with my coworkers. I had always assumed he had social anxiety. It turned out he simply reserved his presence for a different circle. Natalie noticed the commotion and walked over from behind the bar. She looked at me, a smirk playing on her lips as she lightly shook a metallic shaker. “You wouldn’t snub my signature drink, would you?” I frowned, but before I could speak, Lily blocked the glass. “Sorry, my friend doesn’t drink. Find someone else.” Natalie’s eyes turned red instantly. She looked around at the gathering crowd, letting out a soft sigh. “I guess my mixology skills aren’t refined enough to impress this lady.” Without warning, Ryan snatched the juice from my hand and forced Natalie’s cocktail glass into my palm. “Just one glass, Jane. Give it a try.” I stared up at him, my voice barely a whisper through my gritted teeth. “Ryan, you know I have a life-threatening alcohol allergy.” He leaned in close to my ear, his voice low. “Today is Natalie’s big championship. I know about your allergy.” “But if someone with an allergy drinks it and loves it, doesn’t that prove how incredible her skills are?” A mocking smile touched my lips. The logic was entirely absurd. He paused, then added, “If you help her win this trophy tonight, I can finally marry you with a clear conscience. Jane, just consider this a favor to help me fulfill her dream.” Lily’s voice was filled with shock. “You are Jane’s boyfriend?” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. “Why?” I locked eyes with him. “Why should I have to pay the price for your lingering attachment to your ex?” Embarrassment flashed across Ryan’s face, and he coughed nervously. Natalie chose that moment to tug gently on his sleeve. “It is fine, Ryan. If I don’t win tonight, I can always try again in three years.” Ryan squeezed her hand, then glared back at me. “Jane, your mother’s physical therapy bills still have two unpaid cycles.” My vision blurred, and a loud ringing filled my ears. “Fine, Ryan. I will drink this.” My hand shook as I raised the glass. “And we are officially done.” He smiled, dismissive of my words. “Sure. We can stop being boyfriend and girlfriend, and go straight to being husband and wife.” I downed the liquid in one throat-burning gulp. By the time the empty glass hit the table, my vision was already spinning. I tried to stand, stumbling blindly toward the exit as my airways began to constrict. Suddenly, my jaw was forced open. Ryan pulled a small amber bottle from his pocket, popped two pills, and forced them down my throat, tilting my head back to make me swallow. “You are fine, Jane. I always keep your allergy meds on me. I wouldn’t have pushed you if I didn’t have a safety net.” He began rubbing my back to help me catch my breath. But my breathing did not improve. My chest felt as though it were being wrapped tighter and tighter in plastic wrap. Bright red hives began spreading rapidly from my wrists up my arms. Ryan’s brow furrowed. “What is going on? Why isn’t the medicine working?” Natalie let out a sharp gasp, covering her mouth in mock horror. “Oh no… when I was at your place the other day, I think I mixed up my asthma inhaler pills with the allergy meds in your coat pocket…” Lily jumped up, frantically dialing 911. Ryan’s face turned icy cold. He shoved Natalie’s hand away. “How could you be so stupid? You can’t do anything right.” But in the next heartbeat, he grabbed Natalie’s arm, pulling her toward the exit. “I am taking her to get a new inhaler before she gets blamed for this.” As he passed me, he cast a brief, detached glance downward. “Jane, your friend already called the ambulance. You are smart, you can handle yourself.” I collapsed onto the floor, my phone slipping from my hand and ringing loudly. Lily answered it for me. Just before darkness claimed my consciousness, a voice drifted from the speaker. “Miss Jane, your mother… she jumped from the building during her physical therapy session.”

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1 At our college graduation party, someone suggested we play “Me Through My Boyfriend’s Lens.” Every guy with a partner had to pull up three photos of his girlfriend from his camera roll. The cutest, the sexiest, and the funniest. When it was Austin’s turn, the crowd erupted, chanting his name and slamming their glasses. They declared him our star photographer and raised the stakes. Thirty pictures, they demanded, or he had to down his drink. Curious to see how he saw me, I leaned closer. But the moment I moved, Austin shut off his screen with a sharp, defensive flick. Without a word, he grabbed his glass and drained it. The laughter died, replaced by an awkward silence. Sensing the tension, Austin forced a casual laugh. “Caitlin is way too cute. I’m not sharing her with you guys.” The mood warmed back up. A friend nudged him, teasing that Austin had fried four memory cards shooting Brandi’s portfolios. There was no way he didn’t have thirty photos of his own girlfriend. He was just hoarding them. Brandi laughed it off, playfully hitting the guy. “Those were strictly for my portfolio!” The group chuckled and let the topic slide. I watched Austin release a slow, visible sigh of relief, his shoulders finally relaxing. My chest tightened, a cold weight settling in my stomach. Amidst the blaring music and clinking glasses, my voice cut through, flat and clear. “Austin, I want to see your camera roll.” The room went quiet again. Austin, sitting right next to me, went rigid. A second later, he recovered his smile and draped an arm around my shoulder, squeezing gently. “Come on, babe. I will show you when we get back home.” I shook my head. “I want to see it now. I am really curious to see what I look like through my boyfriend’s eyes.” I looked at him, forcing my lips to curve upward, though the warmth never reached my eyes. His grip on my shoulder tightened, his tone laced with soft exasperation. “Caitlin, don’t be like this. You know I have confidential family business files saved on there.” It was always the same excuse. In our three years of dating, I had never once looked through Austin’s phone. He had a locked vault on his device, and whenever I asked, he claimed it was filled with sensitive documents regarding his family’s logistics company. Since he had taken over a portion of the family business during our freshman year, I had never doubted him. I had respected his privacy and never brought it up again. But tonight, I did not want to be reasonable. His sheer panic made me desperate to know the truth. “I won’t look at your files,” I said, my voice steady. “Just text the photos to me.” “You don’t even have to send thirty. Just ten.” “We have been together for three years, Austin. Surely your phone has at least ten photos of me.” The more observant people in the room began to exchange knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with the anticipation of drama. As the silence stretched, my heart sank lower and lower. I had never imagined he would struggle to find even ten pictures. He could fill gigabytes of storage with Brandi’s modeling shoots, but he could not produce ten simple photos of the girl he supposedly loved. A wave of profound absurdity washed over me. I grabbed my bag from the booth, ready to walk out. Austin finally snapped out of his daze, reaching for my arm. “Caitlin, wait, let me explain…” Brandi stood up from across the table, quickly walking over to grab my hand. “Caitlin, is this because of what they said? Please don’t misunderstand.” “Don’t listen to them. You know I need to constantly update my social media for my modeling gigs, and Austin is the only decent photographer I know. It was purely professional. If it makes you uncomfortable, I will never ask him for help again.” “And who else is going to take them?” Austin suddenly snapped. His brow was furrowed, his voice dropping into a sharp, displeased register. “Did you forget that freelance photographer who stalked you to your apartment? What if you run into someone like that again?” Brandi shot him a desperate look, trying to signal him to stop talking, but he ignored her completely, his face tight with protective worry. “If anything happens to you, how am I supposed to face your mother?” The two of them stood there, arguing back and forth, entirely shutting me out of the conversation. Behind me, I caught the hushed whispers of two classmates. “Austin is still as protective of Brandi as ever.” “Well, they have been inseparable since middle school. If Brandi hadn’t dated that guy during freshman year, Austin probably would have confessed to her back then.” “Then what about Caitlin?” “Maybe she is just the placeholder? You know, the substitute for the dream girl.” My throat felt incredibly dry, my chest aching with a bitter, suffocating resentment. I wanted to speak, to defend myself, but as I parted my lips, I realized I had absolutely no ground to stand on. Austin finally finished his debate with Brandi. Having lost the argument, she huffed, crossing her arms as she walked to the far side of the room. When Austin turned his gaze back to me, the warmth was entirely gone, replaced by a cold, impatient irritation. “Caitlin, it was just a party game. Why do you have to ruin the mood like this?” “Brandi is my childhood friend. Am I supposed to stand by and watch her get hurt?” My hands clenched into tight fists at my sides. “I didn’t say that…” I just wanted to know if I mattered to you. But he cut me off, his voice flat. “You want photos? Fine. I will send them.” He tapped on his screen for a few moments. Soon, my phone buzzed with incoming notifications. Ten photos. Exactly ten, not a single one more. All of them featured me. A few curious onlookers peeked over my shoulder, letting out relieved chuckles as they patted my back. “See? He had them all along. Look at these, they are all candid shots. Austin was telling the truth, he just wanted to keep them for himself.” “Caitlin, you were totally overthinking it.” “Alright, drama over! Let’s get back to the music!” Nobody noticed that my fingers were gripping the phone so hard my knuckles had turned white. Yes, the photos were of me. But my eyes instantly locked onto the details at the edges of the frames. In one photo of me at a cafe, a familiar fabric peeked into the corner of the shot, the sleeve of the dress Brandi had worn that exact day. In another, a few stray locks of long, chestnut hair hovered in the margin. These weren’t candid photos Austin had taken of me because he found me beautiful. These were tightly cropped details, sliced out of larger photos he had taken of Brandi. My lungs felt tight, a sharp pain radiating through my chest. When he looked through that camera lens, who was he actually focusing on? Me, or the girl standing right beside me? A flood of memories rushed over me. We had started dating in the spring of our freshman year, and it wasn’t long before he introduced me to Brandi. At the time, she was still with her college boyfriend. The four of us would occasionally go out for dinners. Every single time we ordered, Austin would effortlessly recite Brandi’s favorite dishes, her exact spice tolerance, and her allergies. Once, Brandi’s boyfriend joked, “Austin, buddy, let me do the ordering next time, or Brandi is going to think I don’t care about her preferences.” Austin had laughed it off, promising to step back, but by the next dinner, he was right back to his old habits. Later, after Brandi broke up with her boyfriend, we still hung out constantly. Whenever I bought tickets for a movie or planned a weekend getaway, Austin would always add, “Great, let me text Brandi to see if she is free to join us.” When I voiced my discomfort, he would reassure me, saying that his mother had promised Brandi’s family to look after her. Since her family had helped him during his childhood, he felt obligated to repay the debt. I had swallowed my pride and endured it. Then Brandi started her modeling work, and her schedule became packed. I thought we would finally have some time to ourselves. Until that creepy photographer stalked her. The night she called him, terrified, Austin left me sitting alone in a dark movie theater to rush to her side. I understood the gravity of the situation, so I hadn’t complained. But after that night, Austin became her personal photographer. They spent more time together than we did. Across the room, the speakers blared a classic ballad about unrequited love. I looked over. Austin had reclaimed his seat next to Brandi, leaning in close to whisper something to her, his attention entirely consumed by her. In this crowded, noisy room, she was the only one who existed to him. A quiet, bitter laugh escaped my throat. I should have seen the signs long ago. I had simply chosen to remain blind. Without a sound, I slipped out of the room. I pulled out my phone. A text from my internship supervisor sat at the top of my notifications. The company wanted to offer me a permanent, full-time position. Austin came from a wealthy family and possessed incredible natural talent. I had desperately wanted to be successful enough to stand beside him as an equal. So, I had entered one of the most competitive firms in the city. Out of thirty interns, only one would be offered a contract. To secure my place in this city, I had worked myself to the bone. I had stayed up until dawn finalizing proposals even when running a high fever. I had planned to share this incredible news with him tonight. Now, I realized there was no point. My fingers tapped lightly against the glass screen. “Thank you for the opportunity, but I must respectfully decline. Please offer the position to someone else.” I was going back to Savannah. During our senior year, Austin had rented an apartment close to my office, and I had been living there with him. But that night, I didn’t go back. I went to my old dorm room instead. The next morning, I woke up to several missed calls and messages from him. “Why didn’t you come back last night?” “Caitlin, are you still throwing a tantrum?” “Brandi hired a female photographer, I won’t be shooting her portfolios anymore. Is that enough to satisfy you?” I read the texts, finding no trace of genuine remorse, only a tired, heavy annoyance. I began typing a reply, then deleted it. After some thought, I decided we needed to end this in person. I owed our three years together a proper conclusion. I sent him the address of a quiet cafe near campus. After waiting for thirty minutes, Austin arrived, but the familiar figure of Brandi was right behind him. Under the table, my fingers curled into tight fists. They walked over and sat down across from me. Austin picked up the menu, while Brandi offered a bright, cheerful wave. “Caitlin, you left so suddenly last night without saying goodbye.” “But oh my gosh, this cafe is absolutely beautiful! The lighting is perfect for a shoot. I should have asked my new photographer to come along. Oh well, Austin, you can just snap a few quick ones of me later.” Austin smiled, his tone a mix of indulgence and affection. “Whatever you say, princess.” He waved down the waiter. “A sweet latte, an iced americano, and…” He paused, finally looking at me. “Caitlin, what are you having?” A bitter pang went through my chest. Three years, and he still did not know my order. “Just a glass of water, please,” I told the waiter. Austin seemed to realize his mistake, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment. “Are you sure? What about a cappuccino? Or a vanilla latte?” “Austin, it doesn’t matter,” I cut him off. “I asked you here because…” “Oh my gosh! Look at that sunlight!” Brandi squealed, pointing at the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Austin, quick, get the camera!” The sunlight streamed through the glass, catching the golden highlights in her hair, making her look radiant. Austin’s eyes lit up instantly. “That is perfect. Let me grab the camera.” He pulled out his phone, a vintage CCD camera, and his professional DSLR from his bag, carefully adjusting the settings as he began directing her poses. He was entirely absorbed in his work, treating it like a grand artistic endeavor. I remembered the times we had traveled together. When I asked him to take a single photo of me against a beautiful backdrop, he would snap a quick picture in three seconds flat, barely looking at the screen. He had never truly looked at me through that lens. As long as Brandi was in the room, his eyes would only ever find her. They continued their impromptu shoot, completely ignoring my presence. The waiter returned with the drinks, smiling warmly at them. “I don’t think I have ever seen a boyfriend so dedicated to taking photos of his girl.” “Yes, he is quite dedicated,” I said quietly. The waiter’s voice was clear, and Brandi’s eyes flickered in my direction. She had definitely heard him, but she made no effort to correct him. Instead, a subtle, smug triumph flashed deep within her eyes. “That expression is perfect!” Austin exclaimed, clicking the shutter. Whether he had heard the waiter or not, it didn’t matter anymore. I took a slow sip of my water, placing the glass back on the table with a soft click. “Austin, let’s break up.” Click. Austin took one last shot, reviewed the image on his screen, and finally turned his head to look at me. “What? Sorry, Caitlin, what did you say?” I glanced at Brandi, offering a faint smile. “Brandi heard me. You can ask her.” With that, I stood up and walked out of the cafe. On my way back to the dorms, my phone began to ring incessantly. I hesitated before picking up. A heavy silence stretched across the line for a full minute before his voice came through, low and tense. “Caitlin, you want to break up?” “Yes.” “Why? Have I not been good to you?” I was stunned by the question. He genuinely had no idea why I was leaving. If I looked at our relationship in a vacuum, Austin was a decent boyfriend. He bought me expensive gifts, helped me with career advice, and supported me whenever I faced challenges. But that was only when Brandi wasn’t involved. “Austin,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “Have you ever paused to think about who you actually love?” The line went dead silent, his breathing catching. “I am not going to spend my life playing second fiddle to someone else. Let’s just end it here.” I hung up, refusing to answer any of his subsequent calls or texts. The next few days passed in quiet isolation. On my final day at the internship, my supervisor pulled me into her office. “Caitlin, are you absolutely sure about this? Most graduates would kill for a starting position here.” I smiled gratefully. “Thank you, but my mind is made up.” I knew that with my qualifications, I could secure a good job back in Savannah. When I stepped out of the office building, I was surprised to find Austin leaning against his car, his eyes locked onto me. He strode over, grabbing my hand in a tight grip. “Caitlin, what did you mean by that phone call?” “You are my girlfriend. If you want to end things, you owe me a real explanation.” “I have already said everything I need to say,” I replied, pulling against his grip. “Please let go of me.” His fingers dug in deeper, a stubborn, frantic energy rolling off him. “Is this about the photography? I told you, she has a new photographer now. I am done shooting for her.” “But you still took her photos at the cafe, didn’t you?” I asked, a mocking smile on my face. He flinched, his voice faltering. “That was… an exception.” I did not want to waste another breath. I pulled away and walked quickly toward the bus stop. My bus back to campus was arriving. Suddenly, a loud engine roared from down the street. As the motorcycle sped past, a gloved hand reached out and violently snatched my bag from my shoulder. The force of the yank sent me crashing onto the concrete. My palms and knees scraped hard against the asphalt, blood welling up immediately. “Caitlin!” Austin rushed over, his face pale with panic as he knelt beside me, trying to pull up his phone to dial 911. Before he could dial, his phone began to ring. He glanced at the caller ID, freezing for a fraction of a second before answering. “Brandi…” Within seconds, Austin stood up, his face turning completely cold. “That creep came back to your place?” “Hang on, I am on my way!” I bit my lip against the throbbing pain, my bloody fingers reaching out to grab the hem of his coat. “Austin…” He looked down at me, a flash of conflict crossing his eyes. Then, he knelt back down, using his thumb to gently wipe some dirt from my cheek. “I called the ambulance, they will be here soon. Brandi is in immediate danger, I have to go help her. Caitlin, wait for me.” Before I could say a word, he turned and ran down the street, disappearing around the corner. I stared at his retreating back, slowly letting go of the breath in my throat. The question I wanted to ask him, Now do you see who you really love? remained unspoken. I thought my heart would break, but perhaps the physical pain of my scraped limbs numbed the ache. I felt incredibly, terrifyingly calm. When my parents heard the news, they drove through the night to reach the hospital. The police were efficient, apprehending the thief and returning my stolen belongings within a day. I spent three days recovering in the hospital. Many friends came to visit, but Austin was never one of them. Lying in bed, I scrolled through my feed and saw Brandi’s latest post. It was a picture of a harbor at sunset, with the caption: Grateful for the harbor that always waits for my ship. I tapped the heart icon and closed the app. The next day, Austin finally rushed into the hospital lobby. “I am looking for Caitlin. Which ward is she in?” The receptionist checked her computer and looked up. “I am sorry, she was discharged yesterday.” Unable to reach me by phone, he drove straight to my office, only for my supervisor to adjust her glasses and sigh. “Caitlin? She declined our offer, resigned from her internship, and left the city. She should be back in her hometown by now.” Her words hit him like a physical blow, pinning him to the spot. Austin’s face drained of all color.

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After loving Ethan for three long years, I finally got the ending I had been waiting for. But on the night before our wedding, I couldn’t fall asleep. Toss and turn as I might, my mind was racing. I grabbed my phone and sent him a text. “Ethan, I’m so nervous. I can’t sleep!” His reply came almost instantly. “Go to sleep, babe. You need to be the most beautiful bride tomorrow.” A sweet smile spread across my face. I was just about to close my eyes and drift off when my phone buzzed again. It was a text from an unknown number. “Ethan’s heart has only ever belonged to me.” Attached was a photo of two people sharing a bed. The man in the photo was someone I knew all too well—my fiancé, Ethan. 0 A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. I couldn’t believe that the man who had just texted me so sweetly was currently lying in bed with someone else. I forced myself to stay calm. “Who is this?” I texted back. “This photo is obviously photoshopped!” I sent several messages in a row, but the other side went completely silent. Frantic, I called Ethan’s number. It rang and rang, but nobody picked up. What was he doing? Why wasn’t he answering me? Anxiety clawed at my chest like thousands of ants eating me alive. A few minutes later, a text finally came from Ethan. “What’s wrong, Val? I was fast asleep.” I let out a shaky breath. Maybe it was just an old photo sent by an bitter ex to mess with my head on my big day. But just as I was typing a reply telling him it was nothing, the unknown number sent another photo. This one was crystal clear. Ethan was lying in bed, staring at his phone screen. On the screen was our Snapchat chat box. The exact message he had just sent me was visible on his screen. My vision went black. Aside from pure, blinding rage, only cold dread remained. 0

Ethan and I were college classmates. Back then, he was the golden boy—his smile was bright and dazzling, like sunshine reflecting off the ocean. He had countless admirers, but he treated everyone with a cold, polite distance. Except for one night at a party, when his eyes met mine, and he smiled. Because of that single look, I naively believed I was special to him. I simped for him for six months, doing everything I could to get his attention, before he finally agreed to date me. But right when I was falling head over heels, I accidentally saw his phone lock screen. It was a photo of a girl. She was beautiful, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Ethan, smiling so brightly it hurt my eyes. What caught my attention most was the tiny mole just beneath her left eye. I had the exact same mole in the exact same place. Maybe I was just a substitute for the girl he actually wanted. Maybe that was the only reason I was allowed to be his puppy dog. Even though I had guessed this heartbreaking truth, I never dared to confront him. I was terrified he would break up with me without a single regret. But shortly after we started dating, his first love, Chloe, came back. That day, Ethan and I were playing video games at his apartment. Just as we were having fun, the doorbell rang. “Val, play by yourself for a minute.” Ethan put down his controller, gently ruffled my hair, and went to answer the door. I thought it was just delivery, but after a few minutes, there was no sound from the hallway. I walked over to the foyer to check. My heart stopped when I saw a pair of slender, pale arms wrapped tightly around Ethan’s waist. “Who is she?” I asked softly. Ethan’s back went visibly rigid. The girl stiffened too. Then, her sweet, fragile voice echoed through the hallway. “Ethan, can we talk? Just the two of us?” I finally saw her face clearly. My breath caught, and my mind went blank. Ethan’s calm, detached voice broke the silence. “Val, you should head home first.” My nails dug deep into my palms as I fought to keep my tears from falling. I grabbed my coat and walked past them. While waiting for the elevator, I couldn’t help but look back. Ethan was gently guiding Chloe into his apartment. The door shut with a heavy *thud*, without him throwing a single glance my way. The late autumn wind felt like knives scraping against my skin. Standing outside the building, I could still see the lights shining brightly from Ethan’s living room. Why did she come back? Was Ethan going to break up with me? … I sat on a park bench in the courtyard, staring up at his window, my thoughts spinning out of control. I waited from eight in the evening until midnight. She never came out. Finally, the lights in Ethan’s apartment went out. And with that, my heart died too. I stood up to leave, but just as I turned around, I heard their voices. “Chloe, about what you said… let me think about it.” Under the dim streetlights, Ethan was standing face-to-face with his first love. “Please help me, Ethan. Please,” Chloe pleaded, looking incredibly fragile. The sheer adoration and pity in Ethan’s eyes were practically overflowing. “I’m pregnant,” Chloe said, grabbing his hand. “If I told you the baby was yours, would you believe me?” “Yes.” I didn’t know what that single word meant for them. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that I meant nothing to him. *Ha.* I laughed bitterly at myself in the dark. In the freezing night, I walked away quietly. The beautiful dream I had so carefully tried to protect was completely shattered by the wind. 0

After that night, I actively avoided Ethan. He tried to contact me multiple times, but I didn’t have the courage to face him. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. I was just terrified that the next time we spoke, he would say the words *’Let’s break up.’* But our campus wasn’t that big. We eventually ran into each other. “Val, wait! Listen to me,” Ethan called out, chasing after me. I admit, I was a coward. I only knew how to run away from reality. “We can talk later. I’m really busy right now.” I quickened my pace, terrified of hearing him end things. “Val, stop for a second!” I kept walking. “Valerie!” He caught up to me and grabbed my wrist, forcing me to stop. “I need you.” He needed… me? What did that mean? His eyes were shining with an intensity I had never seen when we were alone together. “That girl from the other night, Chloe… you know who she is, right?” I nodded slowly. “She’s pregnant.” I was shocked by how easily he admitted it. “Whether the baby is mine or not, I want to help her.” So, he wasn’t trying to break up with me? “How do you want to help?” My heart rate slowed down slightly. “She’s staying at my place for now. But I don’t know how to take care of a pregnant woman on my own. Can you help me, please?” Seeing Ethan beg so humbly made my stomach turn. In our relationship, he had always been the one on the pedestal. I was always the one trying to please him, making all the compromises. I never imagined the first time he lowered his head to me would be for the sake of his first love. A sudden surge of anger boiled up inside me. “Ethan, what do you take me for?!” I screamed at him. Passersby turned to stare. Ethan looked stunned. Ever since we started dating, I had never raised my voice at him. I had never even frowned. Every time I was upset, I swallowed my pride and let it go. But this time, it was too much. “Are you really not going to help?” His brows furrowed, and he immediately started looking for other options. My feelings didn’t register with him at all. To him, only Chloe mattered. “Fine. Forget it.” With that, Ethan turned and walked away. Just like he had shut that apartment door, he didn’t hesitate for a second. 0

After I rejected him, he stopped reaching out. He didn’t ask to get back to normal, nor did he officially end things. My anxiety only grew. Was he really at home, playing house and taking care of his pregnant ex? One evening, I bought some groceries and went to his apartment. When I rang the bell, Chloe opened the door. She was wearing Ethan’s oversized hoodie, her belly showing a tiny bump. She paused when she saw me, then smiled warmly, welcoming me in like she owned the place. “Ethan, Val is here!” Chloe called out. I stood there, feeling like a complete stranger in my boyfriend’s home. Ethan walked out of the bedroom. “What are you doing here?” His tone was sharp and annoyed, as if I were an intruder disrupting their peace. “Can we talk? Just us?” At the end of the day, I still didn’t want to lose him. Ethan glanced at Chloe. “Just say it here.” He didn’t care about keeping secrets from Chloe. To him, she was more important than anyone. “Fine,” I said, turning to Chloe. “I’ll help you take care of her.” Only then did the tension in Ethan’s face soften. Chloe played innocent, murmuring, “Oh… Ethan didn’t tell me about this. I’d feel so bad putting you out, Val.” “It’s no trouble,” Ethan said, looking at Chloe. “Val is great at taking care of people. She’ll do a better job than me.” *Ha. Of course.* Even if the baby wasn’t his, he cared so much. Even if it meant using his own girlfriend to serve his ex. After that, the three of us lived together. I was the only one who felt the suffocating awkwardness. Ethan and Chloe lived like a happy, newly married couple. Chloe never directly ordered me around. Instead, she would whine to Ethan. “Ethan, I’m craving fruit. Can you ask Val to wash some strawberries for me?” “Ethan, stay and watch TV with me. Val can go grab the groceries by herself!” “Ethan…” I really was just their maid. But one night, Chloe wanted steak, but she complained that her hands were too sore to cut it. I sat there and cut her steak into tiny, bite-sized pieces for her. My eyes and hands were aching by the time I finished. Ethan finally took the plate from me. “Take a break. I’ll do it.” I managed a small smile. He still cared about me. But after a few more instances like this, the cold truth sank in. Ethan didn’t care if I was tired. He was just worried I wouldn’t cut the pieces small enough for Chloe. There was a scale between Chloe and me. And Ethan always, without hesitation, tipped it in her favor. This torturous routine lasted for two weeks before Chloe lost the baby. That afternoon, Ethan had to go out, leaving Chloe and me alone in the apartment. “You know Ethan loves me, right?” The sweet, gentle Chloe was gone. She looked at me with pure disgust. “How can you be so pathetic?” *Pathetic?* Shocked by her sudden transformation, I quickly tapped the screen of my phone in my pocket, quietly starting a voice recording. “What did you say?” “I said you’re pathetic. Are you deaf?” Chloe sneered, stepping closer. “Let me tell you a secret. This baby wasn’t even Ethan’s. But so what? He still dropped everything to serve me!” I stared at her stomach, swallowing the lump of anger in my throat. “I’m leaving.” “Did I say you could leave? Aren’t you afraid I’ll tell Ethan you mistreated me? One call from him, and you’ll come crawling back like the good little dog you are. You were born to serve me.” My chest tightened. She was right. “So what if he took care of you? So what if he loves you? I am his actual girlfriend now.” I grabbed my coat to head for the door. But those words seemed to trigger something in her. She lunged forward to stop me. But she moved too fast, her foot slipping on the slick hardwood floor. With a loud *crack*, she crashed hard onto the ground. She let out a bloodcurdling scream. When I turned around, a pool of crimson was already spreading beneath her.

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The first day after I died, my wife brought her high school golden boy back to our house. They made out in our bedroom, ate the prime ribeye steaks I had bought for her, used my computer, and spent my money online. When he asked, “Where’s your husband?” My wife replied, her voice cold and dismissive, “Always working. He’s on some stupid business trip. I don’t even know where he is.” She had no idea I was dead. I had been rushing back from a business trip, driving through the night to surprise Clara for her birthday. Then came the headlights. The crash. I died instantly. Maybe it was my sheer obsession with seeing Clara one last time that bound my soul to her side. But when I opened my ghostly eyes, I saw her walking through our front door with Julian Ward—the guy she used to obsess over in high school. This was the first time I had ever seen Clara dress so provocatively. Around me, she barely wore makeup unless it was for a corporate dinner. But right now, she looked like a rose in full bloom, sultry and radiant. They were wrapped around each other. Clara leaned gently against his shoulder as they walked into the living room. Her eyes were filled with a tenderness she had never shown me. She helped him onto the sofa, her voice dripping with affection. “Let me make you some lunch, babe. Just rest here. The sofa is super comfortable.” Julian nodded. As Clara reached out to cup his face, he took her hand and kissed her palm. “Thanks, beautiful. Anything you make is heaven to me.” Clara smiled, looking completely drunk on his words. She walked into the kitchen, pulled out the prime ribeyes I had bought for her from the fridge, and seared them on the stove. She even opened my bottle of vintage Cabernet Sauvignon, setting the table beautifully. Together, they enjoyed a perfect, romantic lunch. After sharing the bottle of wine, both of their faces flushed. Their eyes grew hazy with desire. Leaving the steaks half-eaten, Julian pulled Clara onto his lap. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Clare, you are the most gorgeous, intoxicating woman in the world. You’re the only one who can make me lose control like this.” Clara melted into his arms, soaking in his flattery, responding to his every touch. The sight broke something inside me. Around me, she was always a cold queen. I never knew she had such a passionate, wild, and tender side. Watching them touch, even though I thought I was emotionally numb, a sharp pain stabbed through my ghostly chest. I remembered how, after Julian’s recent divorce, Clara had repeatedly insisted on “comforting” him. She would go out to drink with him, coming home half-drunk in the middle of the night. We had screamed at each other because of it. “When I graduated college, I had no place to live and no money! Julian was the one who helped me!” she had yelled at me. “Now that his life is falling apart, I can’t just abandon him! I have a conscience!” My hands had been shaking with rage. “And because of that ‘conscience,’ you’ve been staying out with another man until midnight for days? Do you even care about me? Do you care about this marriage?” “Are you even a man, Ethan? Why are you so insecure? There is nothing going on between us. Stop overthinking!” I had lost my mind. “Don’t think I’m stupid just because I’m quiet, Clara! Julian got divorced because he was caught cheating! Now you’re rushing to play his savior? Anyone would think you were the one he cheated with!” “Don’t you dare accuse me of that, Ethan! I have never cheated on you!” I had let out a cold laugh, leaning in close. “I might be a nice guy, Clara, but I’m not an idiot. You want to play nursemaid to another man? Over my dead body.” After that massive fight, I had volunteered for the business trip just to get some space. But I still loved her. I worried about her, and today was her birthday. That was why I had rushed back. I just didn’t expect that it would actually be over my dead body.

I tried to look away from them, but my soul was tethered to her. I was forced to watch every single second of their intimacy. Julian kissed her neck, his hands sliding down her back. Clara didn’t pull away. Instead, she arched into his touch, enjoying it. In my memory, she had never been like this. In our daily life, she was lazy and passive. I was always the one taking care of her. Being forced to watch them play their little games made my heart grow cold, piece by piece. But when Julian tried to pull her shirt off, Clara finally stopped him. “No, Julian. I’m still Ethan’s wife.” Julian frowned. A flash of annoyance crossed his face, but he quickly masked it with a look of deep, tragic devotion. “You are the only woman I’ve ever loved, Clare. For you, I’d give up everything—even my own family. But I don’t want to ruin your life. Loving you but not being able to have you… that is my ultimate torture.” “Oh, Julian… me too. I love you more than anything. Only when I’m with you do I feel alive.” Their sweet talk felt like a blade scraping against my soul. Suddenly, old memories flashed before my eyes. Years ago, Julian had tried to ask Clara’s parents for her hand. But her family despised him because he was broke and had no stable job. They forced them apart and arranged blind dates for Clara instead. During that time, Clara fell into a deep depression. I was the one who stayed by her side, carefully nursing her back to health, giving her all my love and patience. It was during those dark days that Clara became dependent on me. I thought those were our best times. I thought we were each other’s forever. So, I proposed. She said yes. I gave her everything I had. When she wanted to start her own company, I emptied my savings for her. When she needed connections to break into the market, I used my family’s influence to pave the way. Within six months, her business was booming. I thought she would love me more now that our life was perfect. But her success only brought Julian back. After just one meeting with him, Clara grew colder and colder to me. She stopped coming home, using work as an excuse for everything. No matter how much I gave, she didn’t care. Now I finally understood. I was just Julian’s temporary placeholder. Julian was the only one she ever truly wanted.

These memories made my soul ache. I knew it was time to let go. It was time to say goodbye to my pathetic, one-sided love. But when I tried to fly away, I found out I couldn’t leave Clara’s side. If I drifted too far, my soul would start to rip apart in agonizing pain. I tried with all my might, but eventually, I grew too weak. I was dragged back, floating uselessly right next to her. Despair washed over me. I was trapped, forced to watch them play house, enjoying the wealth and comfort I had built for them with my own blood and tears. I had never done anything wrong in my life. I had never hurt anyone. Everything I had was earned through hard work. Why did I have to suffer this emotional torture? Clara stood up to adjust her messy clothes. Julian hugged her from behind, asking softly, “Can we ever be together?” Clara froze, a look of conflict on her face. Then, she let out a heavy sigh. “No.” Julian’s face fell. He let out a self-deprecating laugh. “I know. You hate me because I didn’t fight for you back then. But Clare, your family demanded things I could never afford in a lifetime. I was so insecure.” Clara spun around and hugged him tight. “Don’t say that. I will make you rich, Julian. But I can’t divorce Ethan. Everything I have today is because of him. I don’t love him, but I owe him.” Julian kissed her lips, gently stroking her hair. “I understand. I know I’m the one you really love. I can wait. No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait for you. Even if I have to watch you from the shadows forever, I’m happy as long as you’re safe.” Clara kissed him deeply. When they finally broke apart, she looked at him guiltily. “I’m sorry. Just give me some time, okay?” “Of course. Always.” “The company needs me, and Ethan won’t be back from his trip for a few days. Next time he’s gone, you can come over. I won’t make you wait in vain.” Clara smiled, suddenly looking like a playful, teasing schoolgirl. She began to dress in front of him, throwing him seductive glances. Watching them laugh, I laughed at myself too. She was already planning to find a way to divorce me. She couldn’t even bear to make him wait. I had been so blind, so incredibly stupid.

Later that afternoon, Clara was at her office. She was supposedly reviewing documents, but she was completely distracted. Every ten minutes, she would check her phone. She had probably just left Julian, but she was already missing him too much to focus on work. It was almost 6:00 PM by the time she wrapped up her sluggish day. She picked up her phone for the hundredth time, then slammed it down in frustration. I knew that habit. She was anxious. She was waiting for a text from Julian. But Julian hadn’t texted her all afternoon, which was making her lose her mind. Suddenly, she grabbed her phone angrily and opened a chat. Out of curiosity, I floated closer to look. To my shock, she hadn’t opened Julian’s chat. She had opened mine on Snapchat. There was a message I had sent her this morning before the crash: *“Clare, today is your birthday! Guess what surprise I have waiting for you!”* Seeing that message made me feel physically sick. I hated how foolish I had been. That text felt like a giant joke mocking my own corpse. Clara stared at it for a long time, then finally typed back: *“It’s almost 7:00 PM.”* I understood what she meant. She was reminding me that her birthday was almost over. Ever since we met, I had always planned her birthdays meticulously. I would start preparing half a month in advance, giving her all the romance and pampering a girl could dream of. Every year was different, grand, and beautiful. I wanted her to feel proud in front of her friends and family when I wished her a happy birthday. But today, there would be no wishes. She would never hear my voice again. Because I was dead. Clara stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of her office, watching the traffic below. The city was bustling, full of life. But Clara’s anxiety was only growing. The clock was ticking, and my phone remained silent. Maybe she was hungry. She opened the office freezer. Inside were frozen meals I had prepped for her—handmade dumplings, pasta, and some frozen lobster ravioli. She chose the ravioli and boiled them. But when she took the first bite, she suddenly froze.

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On the day the university announced the finalists for the Direct Master’s Program with a full fellowship, a screenshot suddenly popped up on the university’s main Discord server, which had over ten thousand members. A bright red box was circled around my name. Chloe Smith. Ranked #1 overall. Candidate ID: 08. Immediately after, Austin, the school’s golden boy, sent a message: “Ah, candidate 08. She’s a masseuse at that sketchy parlor downtown. I’ve ordered her services before. Pretty good, I must say.” It stayed up for less than ten seconds before he deleted it. The chat, which had just been flooded with “Congrats, Chloe!” instantly went dead silent. In my past life, my brain buzzed, and I naively thought no one would believe such a disgusting, low-life rumor. But within two days, the university’s anonymous app, Fizz, was flooded with posts. Scurrilous photos of me allegedly providing “special services” at a massage parlor were everywhere. Some said I got my master’s slot by sleeping with my advisor. Some even claimed I had an STD. When my dad heard the rumors, he suffered a massive heart attack on the spot. He never woke up. Later, my admission was revoked. I was relentlessly cyberbullied. Within a single month, my depression spiraled. I swallowed a handful of pills and ended my life. Before I lost consciousness, my phone was still buzzing with notifications. “Has No. 08 dropped out yet? Don’t let her contaminate academia.” But now, I opened my eyes again. I was reborn. I stared at the Discord chat on my phone screen. This time, I immediately took a screenshot of the entire rumor-starting process. Then, I replied to Austin directly in the server: “Austin, you claimed you hired me for services.” “Please provide the evidence: the time, the location, the specific services, the transaction history, payment receipts, and security camera footage.” “If you can’t, I am calling the police.” 0

After my message was sent, the server fell into a dead silence. Thirty seconds later, Austin finally popped up. “Chloe, don’t take it so seriously. I was just joking.” I stared at his words and let out a cold laugh. My fingers didn’t stop typing. “You call slut-shaming a joke?” “I will submit this ‘joke’ of yours directly to the Dean’s office and the police.” Austin replied quickly, “Is it really that serious?” “I already deleted it, and you still took screenshots? Are you just feeling guilty?” Immediately, some of his friends chimed in. “Honestly, reacting this dramatically is kind of sus.” “Austin was just joking around. If you’ve got nothing to hide, why not just laugh it off?” “Isn’t she on financial aid? But that dress she wore to the thesis presentation last week wasn’t cheap.” “She’s pretty. You know how it is. We all know how she gets her money.” Those words were like mosquitoes. In my previous life, they buzzed around me, sucking every last drop of my blood. In this life, I kept taking screenshots. I didn’t miss a single one. The very people who used to beg me for my study notes, leech off my research, and ask me to format their papers had completely changed their faces. “Chloe, we know your grades are good. But making a scene like this ruins the reputation of the whole department.” “The admission list is still in the public objection period. It’s normal for the public to raise questions.” Someone else commented snidely, “We’ve seen too many ‘underdog success stories.’ Real life is never that clean.” I exported the chat history, uploaded it to a digital forensics app, and secured certified timestamps for all of it. Just as I finished, our academic advisor, Mrs. Davis, finally showed up in the chat. “Everyone, please stop discussing this.” I was about to switch screens to DM her, but her next message popped up. “Chloe, you need to calm down too.” “The objection period is a sensitive time. Questioning people like this in the main server only escalates the conflict.” I typed, “Mrs. Davis, Austin is the one who started the defamation. I request the department step in now and preserve the evidence.” Mrs. Davis replied almost instantly. “Austin already said it was a joke. Do not blow this out of proportion.” “As a young woman, you need to be mindful of your boundaries. You spend a lot of time around male professors and senior classmates. It’s not entirely baseless that people misunderstand you.” As soon as she said that, the chat was flooded with “Mrs. Davis is right.” I sneered. I sent Mrs. Davis a private DM with a screenshot of her own words. “I am formally filing a complaint against Austin for malicious defamation and harassment. Please let me know the official procedures.” She didn’t reply. Three minutes later, she posted in the main server: “Please stop sharing unverified content.” “Chloe, please stop spamming the chat to avoid causing any further negative impact.” I didn’t argue with her anymore. Instead, I messaged Harper, a law student. She was my roommate’s older sister and was currently interning at a top law firm. In my past life, I hadn’t thought of reaching out to her until it was too late. “Harper, someone is spreading sexual rumors about me. I’ve already secured some of the evidence.” She replied within seconds. “Do not try to explain your personal morality. Do not try to prove your innocence.” “Track down the source of the rumors, the chain of distribution, and the resulting damages.” “From now on, treat every single word you say as evidence for a courtroom.” Staring at her message, my hands finally stopped shaking. Okay. Let’s start with the first knife they threw at me, and trace it back. 0

When I returned to my dorm that evening, a sticky note was pasted on my door handle. “Hey, No. 08, you taking clients tonight?” I didn’t touch the paper. I took out my phone and recorded a video first. In my past life, I had torn it off in a rage. Later, Mrs. Davis had said, “Without proof, who’s to say you didn’t paste it there yourself?” This time, I recorded everything clearly. Once inside, I opened my laptop. The campus anonymous app, Fizz, had gone completely wild. “Anonymous post: Heard the girl who ranked first for the master’s program used to work at a sketchy massage parlor. Her ID is literally 08.” “Anonymous post: Why does her advisor always put her on his research projects? There’s got to be something going on between them.” “Anonymous post: Where does a financial aid student get the money for high-end makeup? We need to audit her bank accounts.” The comments below were even more sickening. Someone used AI to paste my face onto explicit escort cards. Someone else spammed the words “academic whore” across the entire screen. My roommate, Mia, bit her lip, looking worried. “I can testify for you.” “You didn’t even go out last night. You were grinding in the lab until 2 AM. I walked back with you.” I looked at her. “Don’t do anything rash yet,” I said. “Send me the log of the lab’s keycard access from last night, and the screenshot of our Uber receipt.” “The original files. Don’t edit them.” She nodded and immediately started searching her phone. At 10:30 PM, my dad called. “Chloe, is the final list out yet? Your aunt said you’re going to grad school. Is it true?” His voice was bursting with joy. My throat tightened. In my past life, he had asked me the exact same thing. Back then, I had sobbed and said, “Dad, I might not be able to go anymore.” There was a long silence on the other end, and finally, he said, “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll drive the truck for a few more years. We don’t owe anyone anything.” But he never got to see me go to grad school. In this life, I forced my voice to remain steady. “Yes, Dad, it’s true. Hey, don’t answer any calls from strange numbers for the next few days, and don’t click on any random links.” “I booked a health checkup for you. Aunt Clara will go with you tomorrow.” He was stunned. “I feel perfectly fine. Why do I need a checkup?” “The school covers family checkups. It’s a waste if we don’t use it.” I lied with absolute calm. After hanging up, I immediately called my Aunt Clara. “Aunt Clara, no matter what, take Dad to the clinic for a checkup tomorrow.” “Keep his heart medication on him. Block all unknown numbers on his phone.” “Also, call the local post office. Tell them to hold any anonymous packages addressed to Dad. Do not deliver them.” Aunt Clara sensed something was wrong. “Chloe, did something happen?” I fell silent for two seconds. “Someone is trying to ruin me.” There was silence on the other end. Then, Aunt Clara said, “Got it. I’ll handle things at home.” The next morning, I went to the department office. Mrs. Davis made me wait outside her office for forty minutes. In the end, it wasn’t her who walked out, but Dean Harrison, the head of graduate admissions. He closed the door and spoke in a cold, bureaucratic tone. “Chloe, the department is aware of your situation.” “There is a lot of public outcry online right now. To be safe, the department suggests you submit a request to temporarily suspend your admission process.” I asked, “Why should I suspend it?” Dean Harrison frowned. “A major controversy has arisen during the objection period. The university has to investigate.” “The controversy is because others are defaming me, not because I committed academic fraud.” Mrs. Davis chimed in from the side, “Don’t be so defensive, Chloe. There is no smoke without fire. Why aren’t they saying these things about other students?” I looked directly at her. “Mrs. Davis, I am recording this conversation.” Her face went pale instantly. Dean Harrison tapped his fingers on the desk. “Chloe, you need to consider the consequences.” “The fellowship is not just about you. If this gets out, it looks bad for the university, the department, and your advisor.” “So, instead of dealing with the bullies, the department wants to deal with me?” No one answered. I stood up and placed my official complaint dossier on the desk. “I will not request a suspension.” “If you dare to unlawfully halt my admission process, I will report this directly to the University Board of Trustees and the State Department of Education simultaneously.” Leaving the office, I messaged Harper. “They’re trying to push me out.” She replied, “Excellent. The administration’s failure to act will now be added to our evidence chain.” 0

At noon, Mia handed me her phone, her hands trembling. “Someone started a poll on Fizz.” The headline was incredibly offensive. Should candidate No. 08’s admission be revoked? There was only one option: Absolutely, yes. In the comment section, someone posted a picture of what they claimed was a “receipt from an escort service.” Client Memo: No. 08 Chloe. Amount: $500. Timestamp: The exact night of my thesis presentation. I zoomed in on the image and stared at it for three seconds. It was a horribly sloppy Photoshop job. The business name didn’t exist. The Venmo QR code was pixelated. The font in the memo line didn’t even match the rest of the receipt. But the online mob didn’t care about the truth. At 2 PM, the post office manager from my dad’s small town called me. “Chloe, an anonymous letter arrived for your dad. I held it back like you asked. How do you want to handle this?” My fingers clenched tightly around my phone. Here it came. The very weapon that had killed my dad in my past life had arrived early. I asked Aunt Clara to go to the post office with her phone and record the entire process of opening it. A few AI-generated explicit photos fell out of the envelope. Along with them was a fake medical report. The diagnosis read: Syphilis Positive. The stamp on the report read “City Central Hospital.” But the city our university was in didn’t even have a hospital by that name. The last piece of paper contained a single sentence: Your daughter is selling her body. Isn’t she disgusting? On the other end of the video call, Aunt Clara was shaking with rage. “These absolute monsters!” I stared at the screen, my eyes burning. In my past life, my dad had seen these very things, suffered a sudden heart attack, and died. I forced myself to stay calm. “Aunt Clara, do not let Dad see this. Take the original documents to the local police station and file a report. Make sure they take clear photos of the shipping label.” “I will file a report here as well, and ask the police to link our cases.” Aunt Clara choked back her tears. “Okay, sweetie.” I immediately forwarded the new evidence to Harper. She replied: “This is enough to send them to federal prison for a while.” In the evening, I went to the science building to retrieve my external hard drive. Just as I walked into the basement parking lot, I heard footsteps behind me. A guy blocked the exit, holding his phone up, pointing the camera right at my face. It was Tyler, one of Austin’s frat brothers from the student council. “Hey, Chloe, can I get a quick interview? How much do you charge per night, anyway?” I took a step back. “Get out of my way.” He laughed. “Stop acting innocent. The whole school knows what kind of girl you are.” “Tell us, how did you really get that fellowship?” I turned on the voice recorder on my phone. “Your current behavior constitutes harassment. This is my first and only warning.” He reached out, trying to grab my arm. “Oh, come on, don’t run away. Everyone wants to know your price.” I didn’t hesitate. I pulled the pin on my personal safety alarm. The deafening siren filled the garage as I aimed my pepper spray and unleashed it right into his face. Tyler screamed in agony, stumbling backward and smashing his nose against a concrete pillar. Blood instantly gushed down his face. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his face, screaming, “Chloe is assaulting me! Help! Help!” The campus security guards and passing students quickly rushed over. Phones were whipped out, lenses pointing at me. I stood there calmly, holding the pepper spray in my hand. “Check the security cameras,” I said clearly. “Right now.” 0

In the campus security office, Tyler was holding a bloody tissue to his nose, wailing loudly enough to wake the dead. Austin arrived shortly after. When he saw me, a smug look of satisfaction flashed in his eyes. “Chloe, even if you’re desperate because your secrets got exposed, you can’t just brutally assault a classmate like this.” I ignored him. After the police arrived, they separated us to take our statements. Tyler insisted he only wanted to say hi to me, and that I had suddenly attacked him without provocation. That was, until the security office pulled up the full, unedited surveillance footage. On the screen, it was clear. He had followed me all the way from the elevator, blocked my exit, pressed his phone against my face, and physically lunged to grab me. I had retreated three times. I had warned him twice. Only then did I use the pepper spray. The police officer’s expression turned cold after watching the video. “This isn’t ‘saying hi.’ This is stalking, intimidation, and sexual harassment.” Tyler’s face drained of color. “I… I was just joking…” Hearing that word again made my stomach churn. Their weapons were always called “jokes.” By the time I walked out of the station after finishing my statement, my phone was blowing up. Austin had moved faster than the police. He had edited the video, cutting out the first two minutes, leaving only the footage of Tyler bleeding on the ground and me holding the pepper spray. His caption read: The “Scholarship Whore” gets mad after being exposed, violently assaults classmate and sends him to the hospital. The anonymous app Fizz, the campus forums, and TikTok were instantly flooded with the video. The comments were brutal. “She’s clearly guilty.” “Revoke her admission immediately!” “She’s on financial aid but can afford premium pepper spray? Where’d that money come from?” They even dragged up my past financial aid records. Some accused me of defrauding the school. Some sent spam emails to my advisor, demanding a thorough investigation into “academic sexual favors.” That night, Mrs. Davis summoned me to the department office. In her office, Dean Harrison looked even angrier than he did in the morning. “Chloe, this situation has escalated beyond the university campus now.” “The department has decided that until the investigation is complete, you are suspended from the lab, and you are barred from attending the upcoming fellowship confirmation ceremony.” I looked up at him. “This is just a passive-way of revoking my admission.” He replied, “Watch your tone. The department is doing this to protect you, and to protect the other students.” “Protect me?” I laughed. “When I was defamed, you told me to shut up.” “When I was harassed, you banned me from the lab.” “And now, when I defend myself, you suspend my admission.” “Dean Harrison, who exactly are you protecting?” Mrs. Davis lowered her voice. “Chloe, don’t be ungrateful. If this gets completely out of hand, no one will be able to save you.” I recorded every single word they said. “I don’t need you to save me,” I said. “I will handle this myself.” On my way back to the dorm, I walked back into the police station and formally submitted a Request to Subpoena Digital Evidence. Once a criminal case for defamation is officially opened, the police have the authority to demand the backend user data from the anonymous app, Fizz. Right before night fell, the detective called me. “The IP address of the user who made those anonymous posts is traced to the university library. The MAC address points to a personal laptop.” “We cross-referenced the hardware serial number. The owner is Austin.” At the same time, the cyber police division recovered the deleted chat history from Austin’s Snapchat cache. I clicked on the screenshot sent by the detective. Austin’s and my other roommate Isabella’s usernames, profile pictures, and timestamps were clear as day. Isabella: “Austin, I’ve hated that bitch for a long time. Why does she get the fellowship?” Austin: “Don’t worry. I have a plan.” Austin: “Isn’t her candidate ID 08? We’ll call her ‘Escort No. 08.’” Austin: “Once a girl is branded with that kind of trash, she can never wash it off.” Austin: “I’ll post it in the main server first, then delete it. The mob will do the rest. I won’t even get my hands dirty.” Isabella was ecstatic: “Yes! If the drama blows up during the objection period, the department won’t dare let her pass! Once her spot is vacated, the runner-up slot will go straight to me!” The next morning, a livestream started on Fizz. The title was: Public Town Hall on the Fellowship Fairness Controversy. Austin didn’t show his face; he used a voice changer to host. But Isabella sat in front of the camera. Her eyes were red, and she looked like a victim who had suffered a great injustice. “I’m not targeting anyone personally,” she sobbed. “I just think academic integrity belongs to everyone who worked hard.” “If a candidate has this much controversy surrounding her, shouldn’t the university be more cautious?” The live chat was scrolling at lightning speed. “Support Isabella!” “Fairness first!” “No. 08, come out and explain yourself!” “Does she even dare?” I clicked “Request to Join Livestream.” Austin probably didn’t expect me to join. He hesitated for a dozen seconds before finally accepting the request. The screen split in two. I was wearing a simple white shirt, sitting in the university’s official hearing room. I was not alone. The university disciplinary board members, campus security directors, the graduate admissions officers, faculty representatives from the law school, and student body representatives were all sitting behind me. This was the public hearing I had secured after submitting an emergency application late last night. The number of viewers in the livestream instantly multiplied.

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During the fifth year of our marriage, I went back to Ethan’s family home with him for the Christmas holidays. That night, blood-curdling screams echoed from Chloe’s bedroom upstairs. Ethan wanted to rush up and help, but I held him back. The next morning, Chloe was dead. After the funeral, Chloe’s husband run me over with his car, leaving me paralyzed. But Ethan refused to press charges. He told me, “If you hadn’t stopped me, Chloe wouldn’t have died.” Once we got home, he hooked up with our live-in housekeeper, leaving me to starve to death in the dusty guest room. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the exact night Ethan wanted to go upstairs and help Chloe. This time, he rushed in, beat the man up, got thrown into jail, and was sued for two million dollars. clinging to the prison bars, he wept and screamed at me, “Why didn’t you stop me?!” “Maya, what the hell is your problem with Chloe? It was bad enough you rolled your eyes at the dinner table, but now you’re blocking the door and won’t let me go check on her? What is wrong with you?” Ethan’s angry voice buzzed in my ears, accompanied by Chloe’s begging and screaming from upstairs. Hearing those all-too-familiar words, my eyes went wide. My hands shook as I tapped my phone screen to wake it up. When I saw the date and time on the screen, tears of pure relief almost spilled over. “Maya! I’m talking to you! Are you even listening?” Ethan was still rambling. Only then did I realize my hand was tightly gripping his wrist, preventing him from leaving the room. Coming back to my senses, I immediately let go of him and stared deep into his eyes. “Go ahead. I won’t stop you.” The moment I released him, Ethan couldn’t wait to fling the door open and sprint toward Chloe’s bedroom upstairs. Very soon, shouting and screaming erupted from above. Ethan’s voice cursing out his brother-in-law, Garrett, was exceptionally loud. Remembering the events of my past life, I let out a cold laugh. I grabbed my coat, slipped it on, took my phone, and walked out of Chloe’s house. The moment I stepped outside, the freezing wind hit my face, and heavy snow was falling. Walking through the fresh snow, I took a long, deep breath. Then came a wave of pure ecstasy. I had actually traveled back in time. I was reborn, back to the night Chloe was still alive. In my past life, before dinner, I had accidentally overheard Chloe and Garrett whispering in the hallway. I knew they were putting on a dramatic show to scam Ethan out of his money. That was why I had stopped Ethan from going upstairs. But I never expected Garrett to go so far. In a fit of rage, he actually beat Chloe to death. From that day on, Ethan treated me like garbage. He blamed Chloe’s death entirely on me. He not only cheated on me with our housekeeper, but he also refused to let the police go after Garrett after Garrett ran me over with his car. Ethan dragged my paralyzed body back home and locked me in the dusty guest room, leaving me to rot. Because of my paralysis, I couldn’t even sit up. He never brought me a single scrap of food, clearly intending to starve me to death. When the hunger became unbearable, I tore pieces of the bedsheets and stuffed them into my mouth, causing my stomach to bleed. Later on, the housekeeper, Hailey, would come in frequently—but only to humiliate me. I would never forget how she dangled a chicken drumstick in front of my face, mocking me as I crawled like a dog on the floor, only to turn around and throw it to her dog. That dog was just as vicious as its owner. It used my paralyzed legs as chew toys. My thighs were covered in bloody holes from its teeth. Because of the filth, my wounds festered and rotted, but no one cared. Eventually, they went on a vacation, leaving me locked in the house to starve to death. Before I died, I stared out the window with pure hatred, swearing that if I ever got a second chance, I would destroy every single one of them.

By some miracle, God gave me that second chance. Maybe because I had starved to death in my previous life, my stomach was currently throbbing with a dull ache, screaming for food. As for how Chloe was going to scam Ethan, I didn’t want to think about it for now. Filling my stomach was my top priority. By the time I calmed down, my Uber had arrived. I got in and told the driver to head straight to a late-night diner. The moment the hot soup touched my tongue, tears rolled down my face. I swallowed my tears along with the food, feeling a deep, aching sorrow. It hadn’t actually been that long, but to me, it felt like a lifetime. I had almost forgotten what real food tasted like. After I finished eating, my phone lit up. The caller ID showed “Husband.” I pressed decline without hesitation and immediately blocked Ethan’s number. There was no point in trying to save a fool destined for hell. This time, I wasn’t going to ruin my own life for him. Didn’t he blame me? Fine. I would let him see the true face of his beloved family. With a full stomach, I took an Uber back to our suburban villa. Ethan and I had started a mid-sized tech company together years ago, and we were quite wealthy. Because of work, we had delayed having children. I was finally ready to start a family this year, but the baby I had hoped for was lost in that horrific car accident. Back then, I screamed at Ethan for being heartless, asking how he could not care about his own child. But he had just wrapped his arm around Hailey’s waist, stroked her belly, and told me he didn’t care about any child of mine. He said he had been looking for a way to get rid of me anyway. Thinking of this, I gently touched my lower abdomen, my expression turning cold. I unlocked the front door of our house, only to be startled by a sharp, aggressive bark. Staring at the familiar dog, the shadow of my past life instantly suffocated me. My eyes turned red with instinctual fear. Seeing me freeze, the housekeeper, Hailey, quickly grabbed the dog’s muzzle and looked at me apologetically. “Mrs. Miller, I’m so sorry! Lucky didn’t mean to…” Once her hand gripped its muzzle, the dog instantly became docile, wagging its tail to please Hailey. This dog lived in my house, ate the food I bought, yet always bared its teeth at me. People say you can tame any dog, but in my experience, some beasts are just born rotten. “Get that dog out of here. It is never allowed inside my house again. And you—you’re fired. Pack your things and leave tomorrow morning. I’ll contact the agency for a replacement.” I composed myself and fired Hailey on the spot. “Mrs. Miller! Please!” she cried, realizing I wasn’t joking. Tears pooled in her eyes, but underneath, I could see her burning resentment. “My grandmother is still in the hospital, and your family is the only one willing to pay me this much. If I did something wrong, just tell me! Please don’t fire me!” “Oh, I know,” I said, offering her a sweet, gentle smile. Just as she was about to sigh in relief, I added, “But what does that have to do with me?” “You’re a housekeeper, but you act like you’re the mistress of this house. You’re lazy and useless. I don’t need someone like you here.” In my past life, because I knew her family was struggling, I turned a blind eye to her laziness. Whenever she upset me, Ethan would defend her, telling me to be more understanding. And how did she repay my kindness? She seduced my husband and tortured me when I was paralyzed. Now that I was back, there was no way in hell I would keep this snake in my house. I was done being nice. This time, I, Maya, would only live for myself. Being soft-hearted to others is just being cruel to yourself.

“Mrs. Miller, I…” Hailey’s face went pale. Tears finally spilled over as she looked anxiously behind me, searching for someone. I chuckled and stepped aside, showing her the empty hallway. Hailey’s body trembled as she spoke defiantly. “Ethan isn’t back yet? He’s the one who hired me. You don’t have the right to fire me on your own.” “Is that so? But I’m the one who signs your paychecks. Do you still think I don’t have the right?” Ignoring her pale face, I pulled out my phone and called the housekeeping agency, explaining the situation. Within minutes, Hailey’s phone rang. “Hailey! What the hell did you do?” her manager’s voice boomed through the receiver. “The client just filed a formal complaint and terminated your contract! Get your ass back to the office, grab your final check, and get lost!” Hailey’s face completely drained of color. “I understand, sir,” she whispered. After hanging up, she glared at me, her eyes filled with self-righteous anger. “Mrs. Miller, you are being horrible! When Ethan finds out, he will never forgive you!” I laughed out loud. It was hilarious how confident she was. She honestly believed Ethan would play the hero and punish me for her. “And who are you to him that he would care about your forgiveness?” I sneered. She seemed to realize something, panicked, and ran out of the villa. “Woof! Woof!” The dog tried to chase after her, but the moment its paws touched the freezing snow outside, it whimpered and shrank back. Even then, it turned around to bare its teeth at me. I scoffed and called estate security to throw the dog out of the gated community. Even though it whined and scratched at the door, I felt absolutely nothing. Its owner was Hailey. What did its life have to do with me? Honestly, if it weren’t against the law to abuse animals, I would have had it put down myself. Once the tension left my body, a wave of exhaustion hit me. I yawned and went upstairs to sleep. The next morning, the doorbell rang violently. I opened the door to find Chloe standing there, her face bruised and swollen, covered in a thin layer of snow. She was shivering uncontrollably. The moment she saw me, she began to scream, “Are you deaf? I’ve been knocking forever! Were you trying to freeze me to death?” I didn’t answer. She scowled, looking at me as if I had committed some unforgivable sin. “Maya, why did you leave Ethan behind and run off by yourself yesterday? Didn’t you know we were in the middle of a fight?” “Yeah, I knew. But Ethan and I were fighting too. Is it not normal for me to leave when I’m angry?” I took a bite of my toast. In the corner of the ceiling, the security camera’s red light blinked silently. “Ethan beat up Garrett. Garrett is demanding two million dollars to drop the charges, otherwise, Ethan is going to prison! Give me the money, now!” Chloe pushed past me, walked into my living room, and started eating the fruit on the counter as if she owned the place. “Chloe, Ethan got into that fight because of you. Instead of helping your own brother, you’re letting your husband lock him up just so you can squeeze two million dollars out of me? Do I look like an idiot to you?”

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On my wedding day, my fiancé abandoned me at the altar to marry my half-sister. That very same day, with my father’s silent approval, my stepmother kicked me out of the house. At my absolute lowest, drenched in the pouring rain, I ran into Christian. It turned out he hadn’t stayed single all these years by choice. He was waiting for me… Today was supposed to be the happiest day of my life—my wedding day with Ethan. I sat in front of the vanity mirror in my carefully chosen lace wedding gown. Looking at my reflection, I was filled with absolute excitement for the ceremony. Ethan and I had been together for five years, ever since we were eighteen. Now that we had both graduated from college, we were finally making it official. Everyone always said we were a match made in heaven. My makeup was done, and the ceremony was about to start. Holding up my train, I walked to the entrance of the chapel. I looked at the man standing at the end of the aisle. That was Ethan—the man who was about to become my husband. The minister finished his opening remarks, and his voice echoed through the speakers: “And now, please welcome the bride!” I took a deep breath and was about to step forward when my father, Richard, suddenly blocked my path. I stared at him in confusion. He had explicitly told me he wouldn’t attend my wedding. But Richard ignored me completely. He reached his hand out to someone behind me. I turned around, and my heart stopped. There stood Scarlett, also wearing a white wedding gown! Scarlett took Richard’s arm, followed by two flower girls, and began her walk down the aisle. As she brushed past me, Scarlett threw me a contemptuous look and whispered, “You’re nothing but a pathetic loser.” With that, she stepped onto the red carpet, walking straight toward Ethan. This is ridiculous, I thought. My eyes flew to Ethan, waiting for him to put an end to this circus. But to my horror, Ethan smiled warmly, his eyes locking onto Scarlett as she approached him. It felt like ice water had been poured down my spine. Suddenly, all the red flags I had ignored rushed back into my mind. Ethan constantly making excuses to cancel our dates, the nights he didn’t come home, the smug looks Scarlett always gave me… They had been sleeping together behind my back. I was the only fool kept in the dark. Shortly after my mother passed away, Richard married Victoria, and Scarlett was their child. Ever since Scarlett was born, I had become an invisible ghost in my own home. I thought moving out after the wedding would finally free me. I never expected them to steal my wedding, too. And what hurt the most was that the man I loved for five years had betrayed me without a single shred of hesitation. Richard handed Scarlett’s hand over to Ethan. Ethan looked at Scarlett with deep affection, reciting the exact vows he was supposed to say to me. My head spun. Shock and rage warred inside me, making my knees buckle. I couldn’t watch another second. I turned around and fled the chapel.

With nowhere else to go, I ended up returning to the family estate, still wearing my wedding dress. I locked myself in my room, tears streaming down my face. But once the sadness faded, a burning resentment took over. I would make both Ethan and Scarlett pay for this. Suddenly, my bedroom door clicked open. The maid walked in and looked at me blankly. “Victoria wants you out of here. Pack your things and leave immediately.” Victoria was Scarlett’s mother—my stepmother. I stood up, trembling with disbelief. “Her daughter stole my husband, and now she wants to steal my home? I’m not leaving! I want to see Richard!” But life was about to kick me while I was down. The maid sneered, “Are you seriously still that naive? Your father disowned you hours ago. Now get out before I call security!” Looking at her cold face, I realized she wasn’t lying. Richard had truly abandoned me. Grit my teeth, I grabbed my phone and my wallet, and walked out of the house. As soon as I stepped outside the gates of the estate, the sky opened up. A heavy downpour began. I ran frantically and huddled under the awning of a boutique down the street. I hugged my knees and sobbed. “Damn you, Scarlett… Damn you, Victoria… Damn you, Ethan…” I cried until my voice went hoarse. Suddenly, the rain on my head stopped. I looked up blankly, only to realize it hadn’t stopped raining. Someone was holding a black umbrella over me. A tall, handsome man stood before me. He looked down, his sharp, striking face completely expressionless. “Chloe? What are you doing crouching here?” It took me a few seconds to recognize him. He was my high school classmate, Christian. We hadn’t spoken since graduation, and I knew nothing about his life now. Embarrassed, I clutched the damp fabric of my wedding dress. “My family kicked me out. I have nowhere to go.” Christian didn’t even look surprised. He simply extended his hand to me. I didn’t know where he was taking me, but as if possessed, I reached out and took his hand. He led me gently into the passenger seat of his luxury SUV. To my surprise, Christian drove me straight to his penthouse. “I live alone. There are plenty of guest rooms. You can stay here for now.” Christian showed me to a spacious guest room. I looked down at my ruined wedding dress, feeling incredibly awkward. I didn’t have any change of clothes. “I already had my assistant buy some things. They’re in the closet. Check if they fit.” I opened the closet door. It was packed with brand-new designer clothes, premium skincare products, and high-end makeup. Everything was top-tier and incredibly expensive. Overwhelmed, I turned to look at Christian, hesitating. “You don’t need to be polite with me,” he said softly. With that, he turned and went into his study. I figured he had work to do, so I didn’t bother him. And just like that, I moved into Christian’s penthouse. I planned to stay until I could find a job and rent my own place. A week later, I received an invitation to a post-grad college alumni mixer on Snapchat. I had been cooped up inside for days, so I figured going out would help clear my mind. I decided to go. The moment I stepped into the VIP lounge at the restaurant, the atmosphere shifted. People looked at me with curiosity, amusement, and outright mockery. I instantly knew something was wrong. Then, Scarlett’s voice rang out, dripping with fake sweetness. “Chloe, you’re finally here! I’ve been waiting for you forever.”

I took a deep breath. Thank God I had put on a full face of makeup and dressed up tonight. I straightened my spine and walked over, sitting directly opposite Scarlett. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” The host of the party was Ashley, our former college alumni coordinator. Sitting right next to Scarlett, she smiled nastily. “Well, Chloe, your sister told us you were kicked out of the house. She was worried you were starving on the streets, so she asked me to organize this dinner just so you could get a decent meal.” Ashley’s words felt like a slap in the face. She had exposed my humiliation to everyone in the room. I forced myself to stay calm. The more they wanted to see me crumble, the stronger I had to look. I took a sip of my orange juice and smiled. “Thanks for the concern, guys. But as you can see, I’m doing perfectly fine. Better than ever, actually.” Scarlett let out a cold laugh. “Stop lying, Chloe. Is that dress you’re wearing a cheap knockoff? That’s a limited-edition piece. As far as I know, there’s only one in the world, and it was bought by the prestigious Gray family.” The dress I was wearing was one of the items Christian had bought for me. I hadn’t checked the price tag, but hearing Scarlett’s words, I realized just how expensive it was. I smirked and looked at her. “You’re right. It was bought by the Grays. So, where do you think I got it from?” Scarlett’s sneer deepened. “Are you trying to say Christian Gray gave it to you?” I nodded. “Exactly.” The room went dead silent for three seconds. Then, the entire lounge erupted into hysterical laughter. “Haha! Chloe, you are seriously delusional!” Scarlett laughed so hard tears came to her eyes. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable! Why would Christian Gray ever associate with someone like you? He’s the billionaire CEO of Gray Enterprises! He is powerful, rich, and untouchable. Why would he give a gift to a pathetic, abandoned bride? Haha…” Ashley chimed in with a vicious smirk. “Exactly. I didn’t know you were this thick-skinned, Chloe. How dare you use Christian’s name to clout-chase? Everyone knows he’s notoriously cold and aloof. No woman has ever managed to get close to him.” I froze. I had been so focused on my studies and my relationship with Ethan over the past few years that I had no idea Christian had become such a powerful, legendary figure in the business world. But seeing their mocking faces, my anger flared. I pulled out my phone. “You don’t believe me? Fine. I’ll call him here right now.” Scarlett thought I was bluffing. She leaned back, amused. “Sure. I’ll wait.” With my heart hammering in my chest, I sent Christian a message on Snapchat. I told him I was at the restaurant and needed him to come over urgently. I sent the location, but there was no reply. As the minutes ticked by, my anxiety grew. I started to regret my impulsiveness. If Christian didn’t show up, I would become the laughingstock of the city. Ten minutes later, the door to the VIP lounge was pushed open. I looked up with hope, only to feel my stomach drop. It was Ethan. All my past love for him had turned into pure hatred. Just looking at his face made me sick. But Ethan didn’t even look at me. He walked straight to Scarlett and wrapped his arms around her. “Babe, I’m here to take you home.” Scarlett smiled triumphantly, her voice turning high and whiny. “Babe, wait a second. Chloe claims she invited Christian Gray here. I’m waiting to see him!” Ethan scoffed loudly. “Christian Gray? Chloe must have lost her mind. Christian is way out of her league. A trashy girl like her? Even a beggar wouldn’t want her!” Being humiliated in public by the man I had loved for five years was the final straw. I grabbed my glass of orange juice and splashed it straight into Ethan and Scarlett’s faces. They were completely caught off guard. Scarlett shrieked like a maniac, and Ethan wiped his face, glaring at me as he roared, “Chloe! You’ve lost your mind!” I felt an rush of pure satisfaction. Just as I reached for another glass, the door opened again. A tall, familiar figure walked in. Christian walked into the room. He ignored everyone else and kept his eyes locked entirely on me. He stopped by my side and spoke in a deep, velvety, and incredibly gentle voice. “I’m sorry, Chloe. I’m late.” Christian’s sudden appearance left everyone in the room utterly speechless.

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