My husband kept forcing me to see a shrink. He said I had delusional disorder, that I was obsessed with the fantasy that I was a corporate heiress. He would grab me by the throat and scream that my parents had died in a car crash years ago. To cure my “illness,” to smooth the constant worry from his brow, I took my medication on time and tried my best to forget those “fantasies.” Today, I was handing out flyers on a street corner when a Rolls-Royce glided to a stop in front of me. The driver opened the door with a deferential bow, and my father—the one who was only supposed to exist in my “fantasies”—stepped out, his face etched with pain. “The million dollars I wire to your account each month is for you to experience life,” he said, his voice aching. “What are you doing suffering out here?” A million dollars? A roar filled my head. My husband, the man who claimed to have spent his life savings to cure me—what had he been hiding from me? 1 I was curled up on the sofa, my face buried in my knees. My father’s words echoed in my mind like a broken record. A million dollars. Every month. It turned out I wasn’t delusional. I was a fool, kept in a cage. The lock clicked softly. Peter was home. He shrugged off his coat with a quiet elegance, his brow furrowing in that familiar way when he saw me. “Clara, why are the lights off again? The doctor said you need more sunlight.” He walked over, pressing his palm to my forehead. His voice was so gentle it felt like a caress. “Are you feeling unwell today? Did you take your medicine on time?” I looked up, meeting his concerned gaze. I had loved this face for five years. Three years ago, right after we were married, he told me my mental state was deteriorating and took me to a psychiatrist. I was diagnosed with severe delusional disorder. From that day on, my world shrank to this small apartment and the white pills he brought home for me. He said my parents had died in a car accident when I was in college. He said my fantasy of being a wealthy heiress was a sickness that needed to be cured. He said he had sold his house, his car, and spent every last penny of his savings to pay for my treatment. And I believed him. My heart ached for his sacrifices. I took the pills obediently, cooperated with the therapy, desperate to get better so I would no longer be a burden to him. Thinking back on it now, it was all a monumental joke. I looked at him, my throat dry. “Peter… are we… out of money?” A flicker of alarm crossed his eyes, so quick I almost missed it, but it was instantly replaced by a look of pity. He sighed, pulling me into his arms. “You silly girl, thinking too much again. Don’t you worry about money. You have me.” His embrace, once my safe harbor, now felt like a freezing abyss. I gently pushed him away. “I handed out flyers today. I made fifty dollars.” I held out the sweat-dampened bill to him. Peter froze. His expression turned ugly in an instant. He grabbed my wrist, his grip shockingly tight. “Who told you to go out? Clara, you were just starting to get better. Do you want to have a relapse?” His voice rose to a shout, the gentle mask cracking. I flinched. It was the harshest he had ever been with me in three years. “I… I just wanted to help,” I whispered, my eyes cast down. Peter’s chest heaved. He stared at me for a long, tense moment before finally releasing his grip, slumping as if exhausted. He pulled me back into his arms. “I’m sorry, Clara. I didn’t mean to yell. I was just so worried about you.” He took the familiar bottle from his pocket and shook out two white pills. “Here, be a good girl. Take your medicine. Everything will be fine once you take it.” I stared at the pills in his palm, my stomach churning. This was the poison that had kept me in a fog for three years. I took the pills and obediently put them in my mouth, taking a sip of water. As the pills slid toward my throat, I pressed them firmly under my tongue. “I’m going to bed,” I said, turning and walking unsteadily toward the bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut, I ran to the bathroom, spat the pills into the toilet, and flushed. Over the sound of rushing water, I stared at the pale, unfamiliar face in the mirror. My dear husband. The man who shared my bed. It was time I started playing my part in this charade. 2 Late that night, Peter was sound asleep. I slipped out of bed and took his phone from his wallet. Fingerprint unlock. I used his. For three years, I had been cut off from the outside world—no phone, no internet. He claimed it was to protect me from any “triggers.” I navigated to his banking app and entered the password. My birthday. How ironic. My hands began to shake as I stared at the balance, a string of numbers so long I couldn’t even count them. I scrolled quickly through the transaction history. Every single deposit was clearly labeled: “Pocket Money.” They came from a name both familiar and distant: Mr. Chen, my father’s personal assistant. The most recent transfer was from yesterday. A million dollars. Peter’s spending records were staggering. Luxury cars, designer watches, custom-made suits. He had even purchased several properties in another city. He was using my money to live like a king while keeping me locked in this tiny rental, like a pet. No, even a pet had a better life than this. Fighting the urge to smash the phone, I opened his messaging app. Pinned to the top was a chat with a girl named “Vivi.” Their conversations were sickeningly sweet and explicit. Peter called her “baby,” transferring her money without a second thought. “Baby, do you like this penthouse downtown? I’ll put it in your name.” “Baby, we’re going to Paris for Fashion Week next week. Buy whatever you want.” The last message was a photo. Vivi was snuggled in Peter’s arms, beaming. The background was their new home, lavishly decorated. And hanging on the wall was an oil painting by my mother’s favorite artist. It had been a gift from my father for my eighteenth birthday. Now, it was just another tool for Peter to impress his mistress. My vision swam, and I nearly collapsed. I clamped a hand over my mouth, stifling a sob. He hadn’t just stolen my money. He had betrayed our marriage. I took a deep breath and, using his phone, photographed all the evidence. Then, I found Mr. Chen’s number and memorized it. Once I was done, I placed the phone back where I found it and climbed into bed. The man beside me breathed evenly, lost in some pleasant dream. I lay awake, staring into the darkness until dawn. I had to get out. Immediately. But I had no ID, no money. I couldn’t even get out of the building. To “protect” me, Peter had installed a state-of-the-art security lock on the door, and only he knew the code. I was a bird trapped in a cage. The next day, Peter had an “important meeting” at the “office.” This was my only chance. Before he left, he kissed my forehead tenderly, as he always did. “Wait for me at home. I’ll take you out for a nice dinner tonight.” The moment the door shut, I pulled a small, pre-packed suitcase from under the bed. It held only a few changes of clothes and a small amount of cash I had managed to hide—money he occasionally gave me for groceries, which I had saved, dollar by dollar. I walked to the door and stared at the cold, impassive keypad, my heart hammering. How was I going to get out? I suddenly remembered a time a repairman had come to fix a leaky pipe. I overheard Peter mention an emergency reset function for the lock. It was a long shot, but I had nothing to lose. Following a tutorial I found online, I pressed a random sequence of buttons. Beep. Password has been reset. My hands trembled. I pulled the door open, and blinding sunlight flooded my face. For the first time in three years, I walked out of that cage on my own. 3 I didn’t dare take a car. I ran along side streets until my legs gave out. I stopped at a payphone and dialed the number now burned into my memory. It rang for a long time before someone answered. “Hello, who is this?” It was Mr. Chen’s voice, calm and professional. I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. “Hello? I’m hanging up if no one’s there.” “Mr. Chen… it’s me.” My voice was a hoarse whisper. The line went dead silent. After what felt like an eternity, Mr. Chen spoke again, his voice trembling. “Miss Monroe? Is that you? Where are you right now?” The tears I had been holding back finally broke free. “Mr. Chen, I…” I gave him an address and then sank to the ground, unable to say another word. Less than twenty minutes later, a fleet of black cars pulled up. Mr. Chen rushed out and hurried to my side. Seeing my disheveled state, his eyes reddened. “Miss Monroe, you’ve suffered.” I was taken back to the manor that had only existed in my “delusions.” My father was waiting in the living room. The moment he saw me, he shot to his feet, his eyes flooding with a mixture of pain and guilt that threatened to drown me. “You’re home. That’s all that matters. You’re home.” He reached out to hug me, then stopped, as if afraid he’d break me. I knew he was blaming himself. Three years ago, I had married Peter against my father’s wishes and moved out to live our own life. At first, we kept in touch. But then Peter claimed my “condition” was worsening and that I needed absolute quiet, severing all contact between me and my family. My father had sent people to find me, but Peter always turned them away, saying I didn’t want to see anyone, that I was undergoing treatment and couldn’t be disturbed. My father, thinking I was merely suffering from postpartum depression, didn’t want to pressure me. So he simply wired money to my account every month, believing that as long as I was financially secure, I would eventually get better. He never could have imagined that his precious daughter was being held prisoner by her own husband, treated like a mental patient for three whole years. “Dad, I’m okay,” I said, forcing a smile. The family doctor arrived and gave me a thorough examination. The results showed I was severely malnourished, and the long-term use of a powerful sedative had caused damage to my nervous system. “This medication,” the doctor explained, “if taken in large doses, can cause hallucinations, memory loss, and even permanent brain damage.” His words were a hammer blow to my heart. I wasn’t sick. I was being poisoned. My father’s face darkened, and he slammed his fist on the table. “Peter Blackwood,” he growled, each word dripping with venom. “I’ll make him wish he was dead.” That night, I moved back into my old room. The pink princess bed, the walls lined with dolls—everything was exactly as I had left it three years ago. Yet, it all felt completely foreign. After a long shower, I put on clean clothes and looked at myself in the mirror. My skin was sallow, my eyes were vacant, and I was so thin I was practically a skeleton. Was this really Clara Monroe, the girl who used to be so vibrant and proud? I couldn’t stand to look at that face any longer. The next day, I had Mr. Chen bring in the best stylists and nutritionists. I cut off my dry, brittle hair and replaced it with a chic, short style. I started working out and eating right. I was going to reclaim the three years I had lost, piece by piece. A week later, I could already see a shadow of my former self in the mirror. My new phone rang. It was an unknown number. I answered, and Peter’s frantic, angry voice flooded the line. “Clara Monroe, where the hell are you?”

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Seraphina Hanover and I were both stolen children. When her family—the Hanovers, titans of industry—finally found her, she clung to my wrist, her grip like iron. “I want him as my brother,” she declared. “I’ll protect him for the rest of my life.” But as the years passed, I didn’t want to be her brother anymore. I was desperately in love with her. “That’s not on the table,” Seraphina told me, her voice gentle but firm. The burgeoning love became a torment I couldn’t bear, so I left, tearing myself away from the only home I’d ever known. Five years later, we met again. My boss, Mr. Wallace, shoved me into the seat next to her. “You’re a dead ringer for the guy on Seraphina Hanover’s lock screen,” he hissed in my ear. “She’s been searching for him like a madwoman.” “This is your shot. The look-alike gambit? You were made for it.” I shook my head so frantically my neck ached, wishing the ground would swallow me whole. “No, seriously, this is a bad idea. She’s not into my type.” 1 I never, in my wildest dreams, imagined I’d run into Seraphina Hanover like this. I was with my boss, Wallace, at a dinner for potential investors. He’d told me there was a billionaire investor, notoriously hard to please, and that I was the only one who could crack her. He’d even dangled a promotion and a hefty raise. I thought he valued my negotiation skills. I didn’t realize he was planning on pimping me out. The moment we stepped into the private dining room, he pointed at the back of a woman seated at the head of the table, his eyes glinting with manic opportunity. “That’s her. Tonight’s deal hinges on you, Sam.” “I’ve done my homework,” he continued in a low whisper. “You look exactly like the man on her phone’s lock screen. This look-alike gambit is a sure thing.” Even from behind, I knew her instantly. Seraphina Hanover. The youngest heir to the Hanover fortune. And my sister, in name only. I started backing away, my heart hammering against my ribs. “Absolutely not, boss. She’s not interested in me. I… I suddenly have a stomach ache. I have to go. Don’t try to stop me.” But Wallace’s hand shot out, faster than my escape attempt. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward Seraphina, his voice a conspiratorial hiss. “What are you running for? How do you know it won’t work if you don’t even try?” “I’ve got the inside scoop. Miss Hanover is famous for being an ice queen. Men have been throwing themselves at her for years, and she doesn’t even bat an eye.” “It was her best friend, Chloe, who spilled the beans one night when she was drunk. She said, ‘You idiots don’t know the first thing about getting her attention. If you want to give her a gift, give her the man on her lock screen. Seraphina’s been looking for him for years, even calling his name in her sleep.’” “If you weren’t his spitting image, you wouldn’t be getting this golden opportunity. Now, go seal this deal for us.” For a man who only drank herbal wellness teas and never worked out, Wallace had a grip like a vise. He propelled me forward and shoved me into the chair to Seraphina’s left. He clamped a hand on my shoulder, his face plastered with a salesman’s smile as he presented me to her like a prize. “Miss Hanover, this is our company’s rising star, Sam Cole.” “He may be young, but his talent is off the charts. He’s the one who’s closed all our toughest projects.” My heart leaped into my throat. I cursed myself for not checking my horoscope this morning. My eyes, betraying my will, darted toward the woman I had spent five years trying to forget. Her face was still as captivating as ever, a single glance enough to undo me completely. Framed by a pair of elegant, gold-rimmed glasses, she exuded an air of controlled power, a quiet intensity that was both ascetic and alluring. My resolve crumbled in an instant. As I wrestled with how to greet her after all this time, Seraphina’s assistant, a severe-looking woman to her right, shot to her feet and rounded on me. “Mr. Wallace, what is the meaning of this?” she snapped. “Are you unaware of Miss Hanover’s rules? No man sits next to her. Especially not one who’s clearly had work done to look like… him.” “Are you that desperate to be a substitute? Get out!” 2 I had, in fact, had plastic surgery. I’d also changed my name. I used to be Leo Hanover. After leaving the Hanover family, I found my birth parents. Now, I was Sam Cole. No wonder she didn’t react when she heard my name. She sat there like an unfeeling statue, letting her assistant swat away the flies buzzing around her, not even gracing me with a glance. Her assistant, however, scrutinized my face as if inspecting a cheap forgery. “You’ve had work done on your face, haven’t you, Mr. Cole?” “I studied medicine. I can spot a surgeon’s work a mile away.” “Unfortunately for you, you’ve all miscalculated. The boy in Miss Hanover’s heart can’t be replaced by some cheap imitation.” “What kind of ‘one that got away’ can be so easily substituted?” “Not only does Miss Hanover not entertain look-alikes, she finds the very idea repulsive. You’ve walked right into a minefield. Now, are you going to leave, or do I have to have you thrown out?” I felt like I was sitting on a bed of nails. Why did everyone keep calling me Seraphina’s long-lost love? If only that were true. In her eyes, I was, and would always be, just her little brother. The truth is, Seraphina and I share no blood. We were both kidnapped as children and spent three years together in the hands of our captors, relying on each other to survive. When I was beaten, she would shield me with her own body, taking the searing lash of the whip for me. When she was burning with fever, I’d stay up all night, changing the cool cloth on her forehead. When we were starving, we’d find a single packet of instant noodles; she’d give me the noodles and drink the broth herself. We lived in a place that was no better than a pigsty. One night, a snake bit me. Without a moment’s hesitation, Seraphina knelt, pressed her lips to the wound on my foot, and sucked out the venom. “Am I going to die, Sera?” I’d sobbed. She held me tight. “I won’t let you die.” Then, her wealthy family found her. I cowered in a corner, convinced our time together was over. But Seraphina grabbed my hand, her grip unyielding, and stared down her parents. “I want him as my brother,” she said, her voice shaking with stubborn resolve. “I’ll protect him for the rest of my life.” Her parents were hesitant. So she doubled down. “Then I’m not going either. Where he goes, I go. No one is separating us.” Overjoyed and stunned, I became the adopted son of the prestigious Hanover family. Seraphina’s beloved little brother. And she truly spoiled me. Still a girl herself, she patiently taught me to read and write. Every tutor her family hired for her, she insisted I join the lesson. She bought me the sharpest clothes, the coolest toys. She was always fixing my collar or styling my hair, transforming me from a grimy, scared little boy into a handsome, polished young man of eighteen. Everyone in our circle knew I was the boy Seraphina Hanover kept in the palm of her hand. “He’s less an adopted son,” they’d whisper behind our backs, “and more her future husband, groomed to perfection.” At the time, those rumors sent a thrill through me. I didn’t mind them at all. Because I was so in love with her. I wanted to grow up and marry her, so we could be together forever. But when I finally mustered the courage to confess, her answer shattered my world. “That’s not a line we can cross, Leo. You’ll always be my brother.” Her words were like a bucket of ice water, drenching me to the soul. But I couldn’t suppress the love that grew more intense with each passing day. You can’t command your heart to stop feeling. I couldn’t bear the thought of watching her marry someone else, of another man spending his life by her side. This unrequited love would eventually twist me into something ugly. My only choice was to leave. I thought that with distance, I could finally rein in the almost pathological possessiveness I felt for her. I never imagined that five years later, our reunion would be like this. Mistaken for some shameless stand-in by her own assistant. 3 I didn’t dare say a word, terrified she’d recognize my voice. Honestly, this was for the best. She was exactly as the rumors described: aloof, untouchable, with a complete disdain for any man who tried to get close. She had loyal subordinates to enforce her boundaries. Taking a deep breath, I swallowed the lump in my throat and bolted faster than a rabbit. When I left five years ago, I’d sworn to never appear before her again. Because one look was all it took for my world to descend into chaos. I could never forget her. I could never stop loving her. A one-sided love is a war waged alone in the heart, and it’s exhausting. It was better for us to go our separate ways, to never meet again. I found a nearby bar and started drinking, trying to drown the fire in my chest with whiskey. So many nights, I’d dreamt of her. In my dreams, I’d secretly kiss her, doing all the things I’d never dare to in reality. In my dreams, I was bold. In my dreams, Seraphina never pushed me away. She’d stroke my hair gently, letting me press her against any surface, in any room. Like the grand piano in the northeast corner of the living room. After we were brought to the Hanover estate, she loved to sit with me at that piano, her hands guiding mine over the keys. Those were beautiful times. In my dreams, I loved pinning her against that piano, removing her glasses, unbuttoning her silk blouse. A faint, knowing smile would play on her lips, lazy and uninhibited. She’d lean in, her breath warm against my ear, and whisper wickedly, “You want to kiss me? How badly?” “More than anything,” I’d murmur back. And her voice, a low, seductive hum, would tempt me. “Then kiss me, Leo. I’m all yours.” The dream blurred the lines of reality, giving me a courage I didn’t possess. I’d pull off my own tie and blindfold her with it, wild and unrestrained. “Don’t move,” I’d command. But every single time, just as my lips were about to touch hers, I would wake up. I’d hurl my pillow across the room in frustration, closing my eyes and trying desperately to recall the image of her in my dream, to will myself back into that moment. It never worked. Tonight, drunk and reckless, I did something stupid. I logged into an old, forgotten social media account. I hadn’t touched it in years. It was a digital diary filled with all my forbidden feelings for Seraphina, a testament to the secret war I’d waged in my heart since I was a boy. I had tried to bury it, to never look back. But seeing her tonight had stirred up everything. My fingers moved on their own. [Everyone says I’m the one she can’t forget, her ghost.] [If only that were true.] [But I’m the only one who knows the truth. To her, I can only ever be her brother.] I had no idea that this one small act was about to cause an earthquake. 4 Suddenly, my phone rang. It was Wallace. “Sam! Where are you? Get to a bar called ‘Serendipity’ right now!” “Seraphina Hanover is heading there as we speak! This is your last chance!” “She didn’t get a good look at you before. Once she sees your face, you’re in!” I was slumped over the bar, my head spinning. “Boss, please,” I slurred. “Just let it go. Her assistant already warned me off. This whole look-alike thing is a bust.” He wasn’t listening. The man was obsessed. “What do you know? Even an ice queen melts if you’re persistent enough! There’s no such thing as an irreplaceable love, only a stand-in who doesn’t try hard enough.” “Once or twice, she might resist. But seven or eight times? Can she really stay immune?” “Trust me, I know women better than you do. When you can’t have the real thing, even a picture is enough to quench the thirst.” “And listen to this! Just after you left, Seraphina shot to her feet so fast she shattered her wine glass in her hand.” “Her assistant asked what was wrong.” “And Seraphina—her voice was trembling—she said, ‘He’s online. He’s nearby.’” “Turns out her long-lost love just logged into an old account he hasn’t touched in years and posted something.” “She saw it, dropped everything, and personally tracked the location. It’s a bar nearby.” “She’s on her way there now, ready to drag him back. Now, I’m betting this guy doesn’t want to be found. Otherwise, why stay away for five years? And when she finds him and he refuses to go with her, that’s your moment. That’s when you swoop in.”

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I was transported to a world of beast-men and adopted by the Serpent King. But then he found a new human female, one who could stomach raw meat. She called me delicate and spoiled. The King started forgetting to feed me, showering all his affection on the newcomer. My vision was blackening from hunger when I caught the scent of cumin-roasted meat on the wind. My mouth watered so much the drool was practically dripping from my chin. Following the aroma, I found a stash of wild barbecue and began to devour it through my tears. Suddenly, a net dropped from the sky. A beast-man shouted, “Chief! We caught something!” A fluffy little black puppy stared at me, its tail wagging furiously. Wait a second… isn’t that my dog, Buddy? 1 It was the third day Kael had cut off my food supply, and the hunger was unbearable. The table in my room was piled high with raw, bloody meat. I clutched my stomach, retching at the sight, when my nose twitched. I smelled it—the rich, smoky aroma of cumin-dusted barbecue. … Three days ago, we were celebrating our formal engagement. A human girl stumbled into the ceremony. The moment she saw Kael’s half-human, half-serpent form, she threw herself at him, clinging to his massive tail. She stroked his scales, shouting, “Oh my god, a real naga! And two tails! So smooth, so delicious… I could just eat you up!” Kael, cold and obsessive about his personal space, was disgusted. He was about to drag her away to be food for the others. I couldn’t bear it. I persuaded him that we couldn’t just eat people. So instead, he gave the girl to one of the other serpent-men. But then, things started to change. I’d be sharing a story with Kael, only to find his gaze fixed on the other woman. Her name was Zara, and she was… unrestrained. She embraced the local customs with a wild enthusiasm, eating raw meat and drinking blood from the kill. Like the other serpent-folk, she refused to wear clothes. She would plop herself down on the laps of males who already had mates, laughing it off. “We’re all friends here! Don’t be so stingy, ‘sis’.” The serpent females said nothing, but they quietly found new husbands. In private, they came to me to vent. “Anne, it seems only the King can resist that female. I guess our exes just didn’t love us enough.” “The King is so loyal. Only a truly powerful male can resist temptation and devote himself to his mate. You’re so lucky.” I went to Kael, suggesting that for the sake of harmony within the tribe, we had to send Zara away. He didn’t speak, just sat silently in the hot spring. “I’ll go,” he finally said. I nodded, my tone relieved. “Good. I’ll go make it clear to her right now.” Kael turned his head, his eyes flashing with impatience. “I meant you should go. Go back to our room and cool your head. Picking fights with other females… it doesn’t align with that ‘respect for women’ you’re always talking about, Anne.” My steps faltered. I tripped, falling into the tall grass, and stayed there for a long moment, my mind reeling. Kael, who had only ever spoken to me with tenderness, what had happened to him? When I finally pulled myself to my feet, I heard splashing from the hot spring. I looked back just in time to see Zara surface, a bright, triumphant smile on her face. “Hey! Thanks for covering for me! If she’d found out, I’d have been in big trouble.” A faint blush crept up Kael’s neck as he pushed her away. “That’s enough. Don’t come here again. This spring is for my mate and me.” Zara pouted, wrapping her arms around his serpentine tail and whining coquettishly. “But I don’t want to bathe with anyone else. I like you. And you like me too, don’t you? You’re already… reacting. Besides, you’ve got two to spare. One for me, and one exclusively for her.” She went on, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Your fiancée is just too demanding. Why can’t she adapt? This isn’t the modern world, you know. She should respect your culture. Powerful males like you are meant to have many lovers. Liking just one is so boring! I can accept that. She’s just too delicate.” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I leaned against a tree for support, staring at them. Kael had chosen his name just for me, to complement mine. He had carved this very spring from the rock with his own hands. He couldn’t possibly agree. But Kael was silent, a thoughtful look on his face. The girl smiled and slipped back beneath the water. He didn’t refuse her. My legs felt weak as I stumbled toward the spring, my eyes locked on Kael’s. 2 “Get her out of there.” Kael’s jaw tightened. His body was tense as he told me, in a strained whisper, to leave. I didn’t budge. I grabbed a rock from the edge of the spring and hurled it at the dark shape moving beneath the water. Kael instantly snatched the woman from the depths, shielding her with his body. The rock slammed into his back. He grunted in pain, but his first words were for her. “Are you okay?” Zara, perched on his tail, wiped her mouth and smirked at me. “I’m fine. But look at your fiancée, about to throw a tantrum. You’ve really spoiled her. Real human females aren’t like this, you know.” Only a chosen mate was allowed to touch his tail, yet he had let Zara explore it freely. I reached for another rock, but he whipped his tail around, striking my arm with a sharp crack. The searing pain brought tears to my eyes, and I instinctively looked to him for comfort. Before, if I so much as got a paper cut, he would rush to lick the wound clean. This time, Kael just stared at me, his eyes filled with condemnation. The next second, his back went rigid, and his ears flushed crimson. Zara let out a throaty laugh. “What? All I did was give you a little squeeze. You’re so sensitive, it’s cute. Your fiancée never did that for you? She’s such a prude.” He was completely lost to his own body, his eyes clouded with lust. “I’m going to call your name three times,” I said, my voice low and shaking. “If you don’t stop, I’m leaving.” The first time. Kael frowned and turned, as if to say something, but Zara silenced him with a kiss. The second time, he tried to rise from the water. She hooked her arm through his. “She’s just jealous. Are you really going to let a woman boss you around? Are you even a man?” The third time, he didn’t even look at me. He just pulled her into his arms. I turned my back on them, tore the engagement circlet he had made for me from my head, and threw the pieces to the ground. 3 Back in our room, I started packing. Knitted dresses, soft cotton skirts, and even the clumsily stitched undergarments he had made for me. I spread them out on the bed. Staring at the clothes Kael had sewn with his own hands, a bitter, delayed sorrow washed over me. Tears streamed down my face. He had found me when I first arrived in this world. The powerful Serpent King, who used his lethal tail—a hunter’s weapon—to playfully weave flower crowns for my hair. In this world of casual nudity, he had listened to my descriptions and painstakingly found fabric to make me clothes. Here, eating raw meat was the norm. When he saw me retching at the sight of bloody flesh, he had wracked his brain, listening to my descriptions of cooking, trying to create fire with sticks, even capturing lightning in a jar. He learned to roast meat for me. A cold-blooded serpent, going against his very nature, enduring the searing heat of the flames. His arm was covered in burns, all for me. He respected my customs. He took care of me. So when he knelt on one knee, in the human way, and offered me the mate’s circlet, I had said yes. “Anne,” he had promised, “I will be loyal. You will be my only female. You fear the pain of childbirth and don’t want children, so I will forsake my own desire to reproduce. For you, I will accept the rules of your human world.” Now, those promises were like wounds that had just started to bleed, tearing me apart. I wanted to scream. I bit down on my own hand, trying to steady my breathing, but my sobs were uncontrollable, my whole body shaking. How could he stop loving me, just like that? Because of her? The new arrival? Was that all it took? I packed quickly, needing a clean break. But as I slung the bag over my shoulder, Kael appeared in the doorway, still dripping from the spring. The lust had faded from his dark eyes. They were fixed on my bag, a vein throbbing in his arm. “Where are you going? Are you this jealous? We didn’t go all the way.” I raised my hand and slapped him, a light, sharp sound in the quiet room. “In my world, emotional cheating is still betrayal. I don’t accept it. The engagement is off. I’m leaving.” 4 Kael calmly rubbed his cheek. Then he took my hand, the one I’d slapped him with, and gently squeezed it. “Don’t you remember, Anne? You can’t go back. We searched everywhere when you first arrived. We tried every method. You can only stay here. What home do you have to go back to?” He laid the cruel truth bare. My face was a cold mask. “I can go to another tribe,” I said, refusing to admit defeat. “A place where I’ll be respected.” A playful voice interrupted us. Zara came running up, throwing her arms around Kael. “See? I was right! She’s threatening to leave. In human society, that’s just a tactic to make you want her more. Let her go. She’ll be back.” Kael cut her off. He pushed me back into the room and called for the guards. “No. It’s too dangerous outside. Even if she’s just throwing a tantrum, I won’t risk a female’s safety.” Such noble words. After that day, I was under house arrest. Kael brought me food every day. Raw meat, raw greens. Still dripping with warm blood. The sight made me physically sick. It was Zara’s idea. A test of submission, she’d called it. Every day, after I finished throwing up, I would give the meat to the guards. At first, they pitied me. Then, their pity turned to disgust. “When she was the only human, I thought they were all this delicate. But since Zara arrived, I see now this one is just spoiled.” “Everyone else can eat raw meat, go without clothes, drink from the river. But Anne has to be special. Always going on about hygiene and parasites. What parasites? I’ve never seen any. She’s just fussy.” “Shh, don’t let the King hear you. He gets angry. She’s been on a hunger strike for days, and it’s making him miserable. Who knew a female could be so self-destructive?” It was the third day Kael had cut off my food supply, and the hunger was unbearable. My stomach was a knot of agony. I huddled in the corner, staring at the pile of rotting food, the flesh still clinging to the bone. It was disgusting. But I was so hungry. If I didn’t eat, I would die. I didn’t even have the strength to run. I reached out a trembling hand, fighting back the nausea, ready to grab a piece of meat. But then, a scent hit me. Rich, fragrant, and unmistakable—the smell of cumin-roasted barbecue! A sudden surge of energy shot through me. I stood up and followed the smell. It was coming from the bushes just outside the tribal grounds. 5 But there were two guards at the door. They were yawning, waiting for their shift to end. I gathered up the day’s portion of raw meat and approached them, my voice soft. “Here, you can have this. Not just today, but every day. Just… let me step outside for a minute.” They were hungry, but they shook their heads, urging me to go back inside. They didn’t trust me. “My Lady, if you don’t eat a single bite, the King will have our heads,” one sighed. “If you’d just be reasonable, even a small mouthful would be enough. We’re stuck here guarding you, and we’re going to miss the matchmaking festival tonight.” That was my chance. The two guards were staring wistfully at the distant celebration. I steeled myself, picked up a slice of meat, and took a small bite, swallowing it down before I could vomit. Their faces lit up. “My Lady, you’re finally eating! We have to report this to the King!” They were so excited they took off without a second thought, the half-eaten piece of meat in hand as proof. The moment they were gone, I bolted out the door, following the rich aroma of barbecue to a small clearing behind a thicket of bushes. There, on a large leaf, was a pile of freshly grilled meat skewers. They were still steaming. I threw myself at them, stuffing my face like a wild animal. Each bite was heaven, so delicious it was explosive. Tears streamed down my face as I ate, my sobs muffled by the food. Then, I heard a rustling sound behind me. I looked up, suddenly alert, just as a net dropped from the sky.

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I never beat around the bush. When a strange woman’s intimate message appeared on my doctor boyfriend’s phone, I placed it squarely before him and demanded an explanation. After a long silence, Nick confessed: “She was a former patient, a severe case. I admit… I developed… different feelings.” “But Chloe,” he pleaded, “we’ve been through so much since college. I’ll cut her off completely.” Staring into his sincere eyes, I suppressed the sting in my heart and forgave him. The wedding continued as planned. But on our wedding day, a colleague burst in: “Dr. Morrison! Vanessa knows you’re getting married—she’s coding!” My bouquet dropped with a soft thud. Nick bolted out like a gust of wind. I screamed after him, eyes burning: “If you leave today, we’re done. For good!” His steps faltered for just a second—then he was gone, without looking back. He’d broken his promise after all. 1 The wedding hall erupted into chaos. The murmurs of the guests were like a thousand tiny needles pricking my skin. Our parents rushed to my side, their faces etched with confusion. Nick’s assistant, Chris, stood nearby, his face flushed with shame. “Chloe… Vanessa’s… her situation is complicated. The last time she flatlined, Nick was the one who brought her back. She only trusts him. He’s the only one who can calm her down… It’s a matter of life and death. He didn’t have a choice. Please, don’t blame him…” Chris had worked with Nick for two years and had always treated me with respect, calling me Chloe with a familiar warmth. Now, he couldn’t even meet my eyes. I could only wonder how many of Nick’s secrets he had kept, what other connections he had to this woman, Vanessa. A tight, crushing pain spread through my chest. The betrayal was real, and it was absolute. My parents held my hands, frantic. “What on earth is going on? Didn’t he take leave for the wedding? What kind of patient needs to be resuscitated right this second?” Nick’s parents, mortified, were already on the phone. “Chloe, sweetheart, don’t worry, I’m calling that worthless son of mine right now. If he doesn’t come back, I’ll break his legs!” The fallen bouquet was trampled underfoot by the shuffling crowd, its petals crushed and scattered—a perfect reflection of my own shattered heart. I stood frozen, my wedding dress pooling around me like a wilted flower after a storm. The wedding I had dreamed of for years had devolved into this humiliating disaster. The groom had abandoned his bride in the middle of a chapel filled with well-wishes, all for another woman. For four hours, I made seventy-six phone calls. Nick didn’t answer a single one. I watched my phone screen light up and go dark, over and over, until the battery finally died. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting harsh, bright patches on the floor. A beam of light fell on my bare ring finger, and a chill went through me that had nothing to do with the temperature. The guests gradually dispersed, leaving behind a field of deflated balloons and half-eaten meals. Suddenly, the world began to spin. The last thing I heard was my mother’s panicked scream. When I opened my eyes again, the sterile, antiseptic smell of a hospital filled my nostrils. A nurse was taking my blood pressure. “You’re in a delicate condition now,” she said softly. “You can’t afford any more stress. You need to rest.” I stared at the ceiling, silent tears tracing a path into my hair. The memories flooded back—a six-year film reel on fast forward. Me at nineteen, in the university library, when Nick handed me a notebook he’d “found.” The handwritten letters he sent every week when he was doing his residency out of state. The day he became an attending physician, holding my hands and promising, “I save lives for a living, but I will always, always protect you.” I saw the poorly concealed joy on the faces of my parents and Nick’s, and my own tears welled up. How was I supposed to tell them that our six-year love story was over? 2 The third time news came that Vanessa was “critically ill,” I was in the kitchen, brewing a traditional herbal remedy. The clay pot simmered on the stove, the bitter medicinal scent mingling with notes of dried citrus peel—a smell that perfectly captured the taste of my relationship with Nick these days. He burst in, a whirlwind in a white coat, the hem of it catching the edge of a bowl I’d just filled. The dark, murky liquid splattered across the cream-colored tiles, an ugly stain. “Chloe, Vanessa’s crashing again. Her heart rate dropped to forty, the doctors said…” He grabbed my arm, his grip so tight I thought my bones might snap. “I have to go to the hospital. Just for a minute. If she sees me, maybe she’ll stabilize…” I looked at the bloodshot veins in his eyes, at the single long, dark hair clinging to the collar of his coat—a hair that wasn’t mine. And I laughed. “Nick,” I said, pulling my arm free. I knelt, grabbing a rag to wipe the floor, my nails scraping against the grout. “Do you remember what day it is?” He blinked, clearly having no idea. “It’s the day of my follow-up appointment.” My voice was as flat and lifeless as a stagnant pond. “The doctor said my recovery isn’t going well. I have to go today, or I risk a serious infection.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes darted away. “I know, but Vanessa…” “She’s important, and I’m not. Is that it?” I looked up, meeting his gaze, and enunciated every word. “In your eyes, am I just supposed to wait here forever? Wait for you to comfort your patient, wait for you to remember the fiancée you abandoned, wait for you to throw me a scrap of your attention?” “No, it’s not like that!” he stammered, but his phone began to vibrate violently, the screen flashing with the words “ICU.” He glanced at the phone, then back at me. Finally, he grabbed his car keys. “Chloe, I’m begging you. I promise, I’ll go to the hospital with you as soon as I get back. I’ll stay as long as you need…” “Don’t bother.” I stood up and tossed the soiled rag into the trash. “Go, Nick.” He froze, a look of surprise on his face. He probably hadn’t expected me to be so calm. “But there’s something you should know,” I said, walking to the hall closet and zipping my jacket up to my nose. “At my last check-up, the doctor said that from now on… it might be difficult for me to get pregnant again.” The car keys clattered to the floor. “What did you say?” His voice trembled. He lunged forward, trying to hug me. “How? Was it the surgery…?” “Yes,” I said, taking a step back, avoiding his touch. “Or maybe it was when I fainted at the wedding and hit my stomach. Who knows.” I tried to smile, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. “But it doesn’t matter. You don’t care anyway, right?” He stood there, his face as white as a sheet, his lips trembling, unable to form a single word. The phone continued its shrill, insistent ringing, a death knell for us. I pulled on my shoes and opened the door. A blast of cold air made me shiver. “Go,” I said, staring at the bleak fluorescent light in the hallway. “Don’t keep your patient waiting.” He didn’t move, his eyes fixed on me as if trying to burn my image into his memory. “Nick,” I said, giving him one last look, “the moment you chose her, you should have known. Once something is broken, it can never be put back together again.” The door clicked shut behind me, cutting off whatever he was about to say, and sealing the end of the six years he had personally destroyed. I walked downstairs. It had started to rain, a fine, cold mist that stung my face. I hadn’t gone far when I heard hurried footsteps behind me. He had followed me out, my medical file clutched in his hand. He must have grabbed it in his panic. “Chloe! I’ll take you to the hospital! Right now!” He tried to grab my arm, the desperation in his eyes spilling over. “I’ll have a colleague watch Vanessa, I’m worried about you…” “Don’t be.” I pulled the file from his grasp. “Dr. Morrison, you should go save your patient. After all, in your heart, her life is so much more important than mine.” I turned and walked into the rain, and I didn’t look back. The footsteps followed for a few paces, then stopped. I knew his phone must have been ringing again. The rain blurred my vision, and with it, the path that had begun in a sunlit library, a path I once believed would last a lifetime. I later heard that he did, in fact, go back to the hospital that day. Vanessa hadn’t been crashing. She had pulled out her own IV line, just to get him there. And while he was there, I was at my own appointment. The anesthetic didn’t take full effect. I felt everything. I bit down on the bedsheet so hard I thought my teeth would break, tears and cold sweat soaking the pillow. The nurses said I never made a sound. They didn’t know that compared to the pain in my heart, the physical agony was a dull ache. My heart had gone numb from the moment he had run to her, again and again and again. 3 At 8 PM, after seven hours of silence, Nick finally showed up at the hospital. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his gaze was heavy with guilt. “Chloe, I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Vanessa… I couldn’t just let her die. It’s my duty to save lives.” I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. “There are dozens of other doctors in that hospital. Did it have to be you?” I paused. “Nick, I’m not an idiot.” After a long silence, he took my cold hand in his. “Chloe, in six years, I’ve never asked you for anything. Just this once, I’m begging you. Don’t make a scene. Don’t do anything that could negatively affect Vanessa. Her condition… she can’t handle that kind of stress.” I looked at the earnest plea in his eyes, and my heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise. I couldn’t breathe. He shouldn’t be begging me for this. He should be apologizing to me. A person’s first instinct doesn’t lie. He never once thought about how humiliated I was at the wedding. He never worried about why I ended up in the hospital. His first words, his only thoughts, were of Vanessa. Tears fell like broken pearls onto the white duvet, spreading into dark, wet spots. It took all my strength to force out a single word. “Fine.” He visibly relaxed. “Vanessa knows I was getting married, and she’s emotionally unstable. Let’s postpone the wedding for now.” His voice was cautious, testing the waters. “I’ll stay with her through her treatment. Once she’s a little more stable… maybe two months. Just two months. Then we’ll have our wedding. Okay?” I had waited six years. What was another two months? But as I saw the worry for another woman in his eyes, I suddenly felt that I couldn’t wait another two seconds. The little life inside me seemed to sense my despair and gave a faint flutter. I placed a hand on my stomach, on the five-week-old secret that was ours, but now felt like only mine. I slowly pulled my hand away, my voice as still as a deep, dark lake. “Nick.” “My memory isn’t perfect, but I remember being nineteen, in the library, when you handed me that notebook, so nervous you could barely speak.” “I remember our first date, how your palms were so sweaty you could hardly hold your chopsticks.” “I remember graduation day, you held me and promised to give me the best life, to make me the happiest bride in the world.” “All these years, you remembered I don’t eat cilantro, you remembered I have a sensitive stomach and need warm soup, you remembered all my little quirks… I always thought you cherished me, that you held me in the very center of your heart.” I looked up at him, and the dam finally broke. “But today, Nick… today I can’t feel your love at all.” Six years of memories swirled between us. Nick’s eyes reddened, and a single tear traced a path down his cheek. “But Chloe,” he whispered, his voice cracking, “Vanessa needs me right now.” She needs me. Those three words shattered the last vestiges of hope I had. I looked at him and, through my tears, I smiled. “Then go to her.” He stared, clearly not expecting that. But he didn’t argue. He just turned and left the room. The next day, as I was packing my things to leave, I ran into Nick in the hallway. He didn’t see me. His entire world was focused on the girl beside him. She wore a hospital gown, her face pale, and he was half-supporting, half-cradling her, as if she were a frightened little bird. So this was the woman who had made him abandon me at the altar.

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“Something came up at work. I can’t make it for Annie’s birthday tonight.” I calmly closed the chat window with my husband. Then I opened my social media feed and saw the photo he’d just been tagged in: Ethan, my husband, holding another woman’s son, both of them beaming with joy. My five-year-old daughter leaned against me, her voice a small whisper. “Mommy, my birthday wish this year is… to never see Daddy again.” So, even a child could see it. The man who was always “too busy” for her school events was the same man who would move heaven and earth for someone else’s kid. 1. It was two in the morning when Ethan finally came home. The sudden glare of the headlights slicing through the window made me instinctively cover my daughter’s eyes. He leaned against the bedroom doorframe. “Honey, I’m home. Why don’t you wake Annie up? We can still celebrate her birthday.” I used to be obsessed with these family rituals. Birthdays, holidays, anniversaries, even the smallest school function—I’d insist Ethan be there. I didn’t want Annie to grow up like I did, knowing her father only through a phone screen. But now— I smoothed the blanket over my daughter, my voice flat. “Don’t bother.” A flash of annoyance crossed Ethan’s face. “Chloe, I was just putting Leo to bed. That’s it. Don’t read into it. This is exactly why I can’t be honest with you, because you’re always so suspicious.” I wasn’t reading into it. And from now on, I wouldn’t be suspicious either. “If you’re done, please go to your own room. Don’t wake Annie. She has school in the morning.” He let out a cold laugh. “Fine. But don’t come crying to me later, saying I’m an absent father.” I turned away and switched off the lamp, gently patting the back of my daughter, who had stirred from the noise. Absent? It didn’t matter anymore. After all, Annie’s birthday wish was to never see him again. The next morning, Ethan didn’t leave immediately after breakfast as he usually did. He sat at the table, watching the morning news. Just as we were about to leave, he stood up, grabbed his keys, and walked over to us, ruffling Annie’s hair. “Daddy’s taking you to school today.” He was speaking to our daughter, but his eyes were fixed on me. Two years ago, when Annie first started preschool, Ethan drove her every single day. But after Stella arrived, he started leaving earlier and earlier, claiming his morning meetings had been moved up. I believed him, right up until three months ago, when I was at Annie’s new school and saw him. The man who was supposed to be in a board meeting was leaning over to lift a little boy out of the backseat of his car. It wasn’t that he didn’t have time to take his daughter to school. It was just that he had something more important to do. We had a terrible fight that night. The next day, Annie stopped asking for him to take her. Even though I had already decided on a divorce, he was still her father. I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. A small, triumphant smile touched his lips as he scooped Annie into his arms. When he opened the car door, I froze. The backseat was a mess of someone else’s life. A Spider-Man water bottle, a toy bow and arrow set, a woman’s shawl tossed carelessly on the leather. Tucked into the seatback pocket was a framed “family photo.” He followed my gaze, and his expression soured. “Stella put that there. She said it makes Leo happy.” He shot me a warning look. “Don’t start. It’s not a big deal.” The old me would have shattered the frame, would have screamed and cried and demanded to know where Annie and I stood in his heart. But the new me just nodded. “It’s a nice picture.” He stared at me, confused. “You’re not angry?” Angry? Maybe I should have been. But all I felt was a vast, hollow emptiness. It was almost funny. How could a man as sharp as Ethan not see through such a clumsy, transparently manipulative tactic? The answer was simple. He saw it. He just didn’t care. “We should go,” I said. “Annie’s going to be late.” His lips tightened, but he said nothing, just opened the driver’s side door. As I was about to lift Annie into her car seat, his phone rang. The ringtone was a cheesy children’s song. “My dad is the best dad, the best dad in the world…” A little boy’s frantic sobs filled the air. “Daddy! Daddy! Where did you go? Don’t you want me and Mommy anymore?” Ethan hung up and, without a single glance in our direction, slid into the driver’s seat. “Leo’s asking for me. I’ll have the driver take you today.” The black Maybach sped away, leaving us in a cloud of exhaust. I knelt down, worried about Annie. “Daddy had an emergency, sweetheart. Next time he’s free, we’ll all go together, okay?” Annie looked at me, her expression startlingly mature for a five-year-old. “Daddy’s never free, Mommy. All his time is for Leo and his mommy.” 2. That evening, Ethan called. “Chloe, I’m going to be late tonight. Leo’s sick…” “Okay.” My response was so quick that his excuses died in his throat. He must have thought I was being difficult, because his tone sharpened with annoyance. “Chloe, don’t be like this.” Then he hung up. Ten minutes later, a series of texts came through. [I’m so sorry, Chloe. Leo has been so clingy with his dad lately.] [But honestly, he shouldn’t have just abandoned you and Annie the moment I called.] [I’ll have a word with him. Don’t be mad.] It was Stella. The texts weren’t an apology; they were a declaration of war. I had no interest in fighting her for a man. I deleted the messages and blocked her number. A moment later, my phone rang again. It was Ethan. “Chloe, what the hell is your problem? Stella apologizes to you, and that’s how you treat her?” In the background, I could hear the faint sound of a woman and child crying. I said nothing. After a long silence, his voice came again, low and cold. “I don’t know who you’ve become, Chloe. I’m so disappointed in you.” Stella had started it, but the moment she cried, Ethan always made me the villain. Back home, I started packing. While Ethan had been on the phone, I’d been consulting with my lawyer. Upon divorce, I was entitled to at least 30% of his company’s shares. And in a custody battle, with our circumstances being similar, the mother is typically favored. There was nothing left to hold me back. I packed my clothes, my bags, my jewelry, and all of Annie’s favorite toys. As I sealed the last box, my hands trembled. My eyes fell on a dusty, wax-sealed trunk I hadn’t touched in years. It was full of love letters. From the Ethan who was seventeen, eighteen, all the way to twenty-two. I broke the seal and opened the one on top. It began: To the 27-year-old Chloe, from the 17-year-old Ethan. This is the first love letter I’ve ever written you. As we agreed, we’ll open this together in ten years. By then, we’ll definitely be married. Maybe we’ll even have a beautiful child. My phone rang again. It was the 27-year-old Ethan. “Chloe! Stella took Leo and ran away! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? If anything happens to them, I will never forgive you.” My eyes fell to the bottom of the letter I was holding. It was signed: Forever yours, Ethan, who will always love his Chloe. A sharp, piercing pain shot through my chest, as if something delicate and precious inside me had just shattered. I hung up the phone and tossed the entire trunk of letters into the fireplace. 3. Ethan didn’t come home that night. I didn’t frantically call him, didn’t cry and promise to be nicer to Stella. Annie didn’t ask about her father either. She just silently took the framed photo of her and Ethan from her bedside table while I was packing. We fell into a cold war. A week later, Annie’s school sent home a permission slip for a field trip that required a parent’s facial recognition signature. I tried to call Ethan, only to find he had blocked my number. Left with no choice, I drove to his office. I didn’t have to wait long before I saw a familiar figure slip into his office. The assistant, pouring a glass of water, looked at me guiltily. “Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Hayes gave instructions that Stella can enter his office whenever she likes.” That “privilege” was my fault, in a way. I used to bring Ethan lunch every day. We’d eat and talk for an hour. One day, Stella came to see him and was stopped by the assistant. By the time Ethan walked me out, Stella and Leo were shivering in the hallway, their lips blue with cold. That was the first time Ethan had ever truly lost his temper with me. He yelled that my daily visits were a waste of his time. He fired the assistant who had stopped Stella. From that day on, everyone at the company knew who was the most important woman in Ethan Hayes’s life. I never came back to the office again. I gave the new assistant a small smile and walked straight toward his office. Ethan was in a meeting. He looked surprised to see me. “What are you doing here?” Stella was perched on the arm of his chair, their bodies so close they were almost touching. He saw me looking and started to stammer. “Chloe, don’t get the wrong idea. Stella just happens to know a little about this project, so…” I nodded and handed him the tablet. “Annie’s field trip. It needs your signature.” “You came all this way just for that?” “Why else would I be here?” The atmosphere in the room grew heavy. I knew Ethan well enough to know that he was in a very bad mood. Stella scoffed. “Honestly, what’s so important about a signature? Ethan, she’s just looking for an excuse to make up with you. You’ve been staying at my place for days. It’s probably time you went home to see Annie.” Ethan’s brow smoothed, and a smug, playful smile appeared on his face. He tossed the tablet onto the coffee table. “Chloe, now you’re using our daughter as an excuse. Apologize to Stella. Otherwise, I’m not signing anything.” Hearing those words used to infuriate me. I’d be furious that he cared so little for his own daughter, and even more furious that he was doing it for Stella. But now, I felt nothing. My only thought was that without his signature, Annie couldn’t go on the trip, and she would be disappointed. I looked at him, then at Stella, still perched on his chair like a queen on her throne. Without another word, I turned and walked out. I’d just tell the school Annie didn’t have a father. I’d only taken a few steps when a clear, cool voice stopped me. “If you don’t mind, Miss, perhaps I could be of assistance.” It was the other man from the meeting. “After all, I’ve been an unwilling audience to your family drama for a while now.” I finally got a good look at him. He was dressed in a sharp black suit, his features cool and aristocratic. He radiated an aura of wealth and power. I simply handed him the tablet. The authorization went through instantly. On the screen, a bold, elegant signature appeared: Julian Prescott.

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During the party, our friends started teasing, asking when Koby and I were finally going to get married. I looked at him, a smile playing on my lips. He just went silent, awkwardly changing the subject. The friend who’d asked the question shot me an embarrassed, apologetic look. My smile didn’t waver. I just took a sip of my drink. I’m a procrastinator, but not a crippling one. And in that moment, I decided. I was done waiting. I was letting Koby go, and in doing so, letting myself go free. 01. The awkward moment passed quickly, and the party roared back to life. I laughed and joked along with everyone else, genuinely happy for the two people at the center of it all—my best friend, Sophie, and her fiancé. The teasing had started because, halfway through the night, Sophie’s boyfriend had dropped to one knee and proposed. With her ecstatic “yes,” Koby and I became the last unmarried couple in our circle. During a round of party games, Sophie slipped into the seat next to me and quietly squeezed my hand. I gave her a reassuring smile. Of all our friends, Koby and I had been the first to get together. Everyone assumed we’d be the first to walk down the aisle. But that was six years ago. And we were still just boyfriend and girlfriend. 02. By the end of the night, only Koby, Sophie, her new fiancé Alex, and I remained. Sophie pulled me into a tight hug, whispering in my ear, “Jennifer, whatever you do, don’t settle for less than you deserve.” I hugged her back, my voice light. “I won’t.” After we waved them off, I turned to get into Koby’s car. He was staring at his phone, not even looking up. “Lola’s working late at the office. Her phone died, so she can’t get a ride. I’m going to pick her up.” “Okay,” I said, my hand already in my purse. The moment he’d said “Lola,” my fingers had instinctively opened the ride-share app. As if on cue, a car was confirmed just as he finished his sentence. He finally looked up at me. “You had a bit to drink tonight. Get home safe and rest up. I’m leaving now.” “Mhm,” was all I said. As his car pulled away from the curb, I took a few quick steps back to avoid breathing in his exhaust fumes. A moment later, my phone buzzed with a voice message from him. Normally, I would have fumbled for my earbuds, eager to hear his voice. Tonight, I couldn’t be bothered. I just let the app transcribe it. 【I’ll head back right after I drop her off. Don’t overthink it.】 That was new. He’d never bothered with reassurances before when he ditched me for Lola. I typed back a single reply: 【OK】 The chat bubble showed he was typing… then it disappeared. He sent nothing. I didn’t really care. Ever since I’d made my decision, a strange sense of peace had settled over me. Before, the thought of Lola—Koby’s childhood friend—had me tied in knots of anxiety and insecurity. She had turned me into someone I didn’t recognize. I’d lost count of the number of hysterical fights we’d had about her. And every time, he’d just watch me with those cold, detached eyes. “When are you going to stop? I see Lola as a sister. Her parents trusted me to look after her, that’s all.” “I gave her a job at the company because she’s qualified. Stop being so paranoid.” “If that’s what you want to believe, there’s nothing I can do.” The same lines, over and over. I could recite them by heart. 03. I went home but didn’t wait up for Koby. I just went to sleep. As expected, he never came home. I knew he wouldn’t. A message pinged on my phone in the morning. 【Lola’s power went out last night. I stayed to help her fix it, got late. Didn’t want to wake you.】 Another ping. 【I got a room at a hotel, didn’t stay at her place.】 He was always so brazenly honest about it, never hiding anything about Lola. He seemed to think that as long as he told me the “facts,” he’d done his part. My phone buzzed again. 【Booked us a table at that restaurant you love. Dinner tonight.】 That was his classic move. An explanation, followed by a treat. Whether I accepted his peace offering or not, he would consider the matter closed. As long as he felt he’d explained himself, I was expected to drop it. So many times, I’d tried to push, to scream that we needed to actually talk things through, but the look in his eyes always said the same thing: he just didn’t get it. He saw me as a petulant child throwing a tantrum. And so, more often than not, I was the one who swallowed my hurt, plastering on a smile and playing the part of the mature, understanding girlfriend just to please him. I replied: 【Sounds good.】 Koby could handle spicy food, but he didn’t enjoy it. He would never suggest that place on his own. I should have been thrilled. Instead, all I felt was a profound emptiness. 04. I knew better than to expect Koby to pick me up, so I called a car myself. And, once again, my instincts were right. On the way to the Szechuan restaurant, we passed by his office building. And there he was. I watched from my car window as Koby, a faint smile on his face, shielded Lola’s head with his hand as she slipped into the passenger seat of his car. A cold certainty washed over me. I unlocked my phone. Sure enough, a series of new messages were there. 【Lola’s joining us for dinner. She’s been working so hard lately, hasn’t had a decent meal in days.】 【She doesn’t like spicy food. We’ll go to that Szechuan place another time, I promise. I’ve booked a different restaurant.】 【Sending you the new address now.】 I switched off the screen. And told the driver to continue to the original destination. Koby had already canceled our reservation, so I had to wait in line. The place was packed. It took an hour before I was seated. My phone buzzed incessantly in my purse, but I ignored it, focusing only on the food. The spice was so authentic it brought tears to my eyes. But it was a good burn. A cleansing one. Only after I’d paid the bill did I finally take out my phone. As I suspected, it was flooded with over a dozen missed calls and messages from him. 【Are you there yet?】 【Are you throwing a fit again? I told you I’d take you next time.】 【Lola has a sensitive stomach, she can’t eat spicy food. You’re practically her sister-in-law, can’t you be a little more understanding?】 【Now she feels so guilty she can’t even eat. Get over here, now!】 The same old script. But it was more than we had texted each other in the last month combined. 05. On the way home, I found myself wondering what had made me fall for Koby in the first place. I think it was that rainy afternoon. He was trying to launch his startup and had just been rejected by an investor for the twentieth time. My boss had just sent back my design draft for the thirty-fifth revision. We both ducked into the same coffee shop to escape a sudden thunderstorm, and just… started talking. It was awkward at first, just small talk to fill the silence. But by the time the rain stopped, we had clicked. After that, getting together felt like the most natural thing in the world. I never believed in love at first sight. It always seemed too shallow, an emotion without foundation, destined to fade as quickly as it appeared. Yet, for six years with Koby, I often thought I was one of the lucky ones, that I’d found my soulmate in a chance encounter. But thinking back now… Were these six years truly a story of mutual love, or was it just me, procrastinating on the inevitable breakup? 06. Sophie took me out for drinks. With wedding planning about to consume their lives, she wanted one last night to just relax before the chaos began. She’s a lightweight, and it didn’t take long for her to get tipsy. But even then, she was slurring, insisting she had to get me home safely first. I felt a bittersweet pang. My best friend, drunk off her ass, was still putting me first. Koby, on the other hand, would always, always choose Lola over me. “It’s okay,” I soothed her. “I’m staying at your place tonight. We can go home together.” I’d moved out of Koby’s place for a few days, needing space to untangle the mess of our relationship in my head. With Alex out of town on a business trip, Sophie had insisted I come stay with her and keep her company during her last few days of “freedom.” When we got back to her apartment, I helped her onto the sofa. She mumbled, her words thick, “Jennifer… if something’s broken, you throw it away. Don’t force it.” She’s known me for over a decade. Even if I never said a word, she could read the turmoil inside me. I smiled and stroked her hair. Just then, my phone lit up with a message from Koby. 【Are you done with your tantrum? When are you coming back?】 【Come home and I’ll take you to that Szechuan place, how about that?】 【You’re a grown woman, Jennifer. Running away when you’re upset isn’t the answer. Do you really think this is mature?】 For the first time, I didn’t reply.

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1 Three years ago, my daughter fell from the twentieth floor. She died instantly. My husband, Ethan, held her body for three days and nights, refusing to sleep. Chelsea, her godmother and my best friend, cried until she collapsed. I refused to believe my daughter, Lily, would go to the rooftop alone. I dedicated my life to uncovering the truth. But no matter how hard I looked, the security footage and every shred of evidence pointed to one conclusion: she had jumped. Until today, the anniversary of her death. I received a call from an unknown number. The voice on the other end was identical to my own. “Lily, sweetie, you be a good girl and wait for Mommy, okay? I’m coming home, and I’ll bring you your favorite strawberry cake.” I froze. Those were the last words I ever said to my daughter. … Before I could process what was happening, the voice on the other end called out again, laced with confusion. My own voice trembling, I whispered my name into the phone. “Amy.” Silence. The Amy from three years ago was stunned, her tone shifting to sharp suspicion. “Who is this? Why do you sound just like me? I was calling my daughter. How did I get you?” I struggled to keep my voice steady, my words rushing out. “I’m you, from three years in the future. Listen to me. Today is the day Lily falls to her death. You have to save her!” A cold, dismissive laugh came through the speaker. “If you’re going to lie, at least make it believable. My daughter is perfectly fine at home.” She sounded annoyed. “I can’t even hang up. What the hell do you want?” If I weren’t living this nightmare, I wouldn’t believe it either. “I know it sounds insane,” I said, my voice firm. “But it’s real, and I can prove it.” “At 1:15, Ethan, who’s supposed to be working late, is going to call and tell you he won’t be home this afternoon.” “You’ll get worried about Lily being alone and call Chelsea to ask her to watch her, but Chelsea will say she just left town for a trip.” “Then, at 1:20, your assistant will call, pressuring you to come in for a critical meeting, and you’ll give up on going home to Lily.” In my three-year quest for the truth, I had replayed that day countless times. Every detail was seared into my soul. As I finished speaking, the clock ticked over to 1:15. Right on cue, Ethan’s ringtone echoed faintly through the phone. This bizarre, time-spanning connection was so clear I could hear their entire conversation. “Honey, work is crazy today. I have to work late again…” Thirty seconds later, Amy hung up and dialed her best friend. Just as I’d said, Chelsea answered, full of regret, explaining she’d left on a trip that very morning. Immediately after, her assistant called, reminding her the meeting was about to start. “Turn the car around and go home right now,” I commanded. “Take Lily with you. The client for that meeting is going to bail at the last minute. The meeting is a waste of time.” A two-second pause, then the roar of an engine. “I’ll trust you this once,” she said, her voice tight with tension. “If there’s even a one-in-a-million chance my daughter is in danger, I’m not taking it.” A wave of relief washed over me. “I know,” I whispered. “We’re the same.” The image of my daughter’s broken body flashed in my mind, as vivid as if it were yesterday. Her tiny frame, twisted and unnatural, her little white dress stained crimson with blood that pooled from the back of her head. The memory was a physical pain, a knife twisting in my gut. I hated myself for not finding the person responsible and making them pay. But now, here it was. A chance to undo it all. A chance I had to seize. She floored it, turning a twenty-minute drive into ten. The moment she burst through the door, I heard Lily’s bright, familiar voice, brimming with life. “Mommy, you’re back so soon!” A lump formed in my throat. I could picture her perfectly, running into her mother’s arms, her eyes crinkling into a joyful smile. The past Amy’s voice was soft. “Sweetie, how about you come to the office with Mommy today? I’ll buy you a strawberry cake.” Lily, of course, cheered with excitement. But just as they were about to leave, I heard the faint click of another door opening, followed by Amy’s shocked voice. “Chelsea? I thought you were out of town!” I stiffened. Chelsea was there that day? I distinctly remembered her telling me she didn’t get back until the day after. But there was no mistaking the voice on the phone—Chelsea’s, laced with surprise and a hint of something unnatural. “You said Lily was alone. I’m her godmother, aren’t I? Of course, coming back for her is more important.” A thousand questions swirled in my mind. All I could manage was to urge Amy to keep Lily by her side before a new call beeped through, severing our connection. It was the Chelsea from my timeline, her voice as gentle as it had been three years ago. “Amy, are you still at the cemetery? I know how hard this is for you, but you have to keep moving forward…” My gaze was fixed on the distance, my voice flat as I cut her off. “The day Lily died, were you really on a trip?” Chelsea paused, a flicker of confusion in her voice. “Yes? I tried to come back, but my flight was canceled due to the weather. Don’t you remember?” Her tone grew heavy, laced with practiced concern and a hint of weary depression. “You haven’t given up on finding this… this ‘truth,’ have you? The police ruled it an accident. Lily was only five. It’s not impossible for a curious child to wander up to the roof.” “You’re going to drive yourself mad inventing enemies that aren’t there, torturing yourself over a tragic accident.” Her voice cracked. “And now… are you starting to suspect me? Amy, I cried until I passed out. They had to take me to the hospital…” I stared at the photograph of my daughter on the gravestone, my resolve hardening. Everyone thought I was crazy. And maybe I was, pushed to the very edge of sanity. This phone call with my past self felt like a fever dream. But I knew it was real. Just as I knew my daughter’s death was no accident. “Of course not,” I replied coolly. “You know I wouldn’t accuse anyone without reason. It was just a random thought.” After hanging up, I desperately tried to reconnect with my past self. When I finally got through, Amy told me she was about to leave with Lily. Chelsea had already gone. “I asked Lily about her day,” Amy added. “She said she hasn’t seen any strangers. Nothing seems out of place.” “So, there was no warning at all before it happened?” A bitter taste filled my mouth. That was the truth. If there had been even the slightest clue, I wouldn’t have spent three years chasing shadows. Amy took Lily to her office. As I’d predicted, the client canceled the meeting without warning. She was too preoccupied to care, delegating the fallout to her assistant while keeping Lily glued to her side. A few minutes later, she called me back, her voice strange. Even without seeing her, I could imagine the grim expression on her face. “You’re not going to believe this. Ethan never worked late today.” “I just called his office. The receptionist said he left early.” Now, my own expression turned to stone. 2 “Why would he lie about leaving work?” I muttered to myself, unable to comprehend his motive. In all our years of marriage, the two people I trusted most in the world had both lied to me on the worst day of my life. “Go home,” I told her. “Install hidden cameras in every corner of the house. Don’t tell anyone. Not Ethan. Not Chelsea.” After a few seconds of silence, she replied, “…I will. But I hope this has nothing to do with them.” I drove away from the cemetery. Just as I walked through my front door, Ethan arrived right behind me. “Amy,” he said gently. “Chelsea told me you went to the cemetery again. You were thinking about Lily, weren’t you?” I remembered the day it happened. When he got the call, he’d raced home, running thirteen red lights, arriving disheveled and frantic. He had knelt on the pavement, clutching our daughter’s body, his eyes raw and bloodshot. Now, as I met his gaze, it was the same as always—gentle, clear, focused only on me. But for the first time, I felt like I couldn’t see him at all. “Ethan,” I began, my voice hollow, “why do you think Lily went to the rooftop by herself that day? She never went up there.” A tremor ran through him, and his face contorted with a familiar agony. “If I hadn’t stayed late at work… if I had been home with her, she never would have gone to the roof. A fall from that high… it must have hurt so much. I’m a terrible father. It’s my fault.” His grief was so profound, so desperate. But then, his tone shifted. “Honey, Lily is gone, but we’re still here. I’m more worried about you than anything. I can’t stand to see you trapped in this shadow.” He pleaded, “Please, can’t you let it go? For her sake? Lily would be so sad to see you like this.” He’d said those words a hundred times. He’d even suggested we have another child to fill the void she left. But he didn’t understand. A thousand children could never replace my Lily. A surge of rage boiled inside me. I spun on him, my voice a raw scream. “What work was so damn important? You promised me you would take care of her! Tell me why, Ethan! Why?” He looked away, his face a mask of regret. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know she was in danger. That’s why I stayed to work…” Still lying. “Get out,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “I don’t want to see you.” The moment Ethan left, the mask of grief fell from my face. Alone in the room, I opened a piece of software on my laptop. Because my past self had installed the cameras, I could now access three years of footage from inside my own home. But when I saw what the storage drive held, my eyes widened in disbelief. Before I could even react, my phone shrilled, breaking the silence. It was Chelsea. “Don’t be angry with him, Amy. Ethan was just trying to help. You know how clumsy he is with emotions.” Her voice was a soothing balm. “I’m on my way over to keep you company, okay?” Chelsea. Always so gentle, always unconditionally on my side. But this time, something felt deeply wrong. To confirm the sickening suspicion taking root in my heart, I answered flatly, “Fine. I’ll be waiting.” The second I hung up, another call came through—a familiar string of garbled numbers. It was my past self. I snatched up the phone. Amy’s voice was a panicked cry. “Lily’s gone!” 3 The world spun, and an icy dread crawled up from my feet. “What do you mean? You were supposed to keep her with you! How could this happen?” “She went to the restroom,” Amy choked out. “My assistant was waiting right outside the door. She was only gone for five minutes. When she went in, Lily was gone.” Five minutes. In a public space covered by security cameras, how could someone vanish into thin air? The background on her end was chaotic. Suddenly, someone shouted they’d seen Lily leaving the building. My mind recoiled—impossible. But when Amy pulled the security footage, it was true. Lily had walked out of the office by herself. The moment she stepped outside, she entered a blind spot. And then, she was gone. Amy’s voice was stretched thin with terror. “I don’t believe she would just walk away without telling me. Something is wrong!” I bit my lip, my thoughts a tangled mess. “Go home now! Check the rooftop, check the whole building for anything unusual!” She was already on her way, calling the police as she sped from the office. She burst into our apartment. It was silent, empty. Amy ran to the building’s security office, but the guard swore he hadn’t seen Lily return after leaving with her earlier. But she had fallen from our rooftop. Even with the newly installed cameras, there were no clues. The rooftop door, always locked, remained shut tight, with no sign of tampering. Amy went door-to-door, her voice low and pleading as she asked our neighbors if they’d seen her daughter. As expected, every answer was no. “How is this possible?” she cried into the phone. “Is she not going to fall this time? Is it something else? Could she have been kidnapped?” She tried calling Chelsea, but the calls went straight to voicemail. Then Ethan showed up, his face etched with worry, asking where their daughter was. Amy’s voice was sharp. “Ethan, do you honestly have no idea where Lily is?” His reply was a fraction too slow. “I just found out she was missing. How could I know where she is? Don’t worry, I’ll go to the police station. We’ll find her.” As he spoke, he took another call and left in a hurry. Listening on my end, the suspicion in my heart grew into a monstrous certainty. There were only thirty minutes left until the time of the fall. The image of my daughter’s mangled body filled my vision. My heart hammered against my ribs, and cold sweat beaded on my forehead. I dug my nails into my palm, trying to stop my hands from shaking. The questions circled relentlessly in my mind. Who lured her out of the office? What did it have to do with the fall? Why were both Chelsea and Ethan lying? Why had Lily gone to the roof that day, and why did she willingly leave the office now? Why did she fall from our building’s rooftop if there was no trace of her ever being there? Suddenly, a thought struck me with the force of a physical blow. “There’s one more thing you need to check,” I said urgently. “I’m certain it’s connected to her disappearance!” At the same time, I rushed back to my study, frantically re-examining the footage from my home cameras. A few minutes later, staring at my computer screen and listening to the clue Amy had just uncovered, I let out a long, shuddering breath. I finally understood. I knew the whole, twisted truth. And I knew how to save my daughter.

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After the divorce from my movie-star husband, I took my settlement, bought a run-down property on the outskirts of the city, and opened a shelter for stray animals. His new flame, an actress and viral sensation, took a swipe at me on their celebrity reality show. “Some people just don’t have what it takes,” she said to a live audience of millions, “so they surround themselves with helpless animals to feel important.” The entire internet was waiting for me to become a punchline. The next moment, on a globally televised broadcast from the World Economic Summit, the richest man on the planet interrupted his own keynote speech to make an urgent, public plea. “Whoever finds my cat,” he said, his voice tight with desperation, “will be rewarded with a ten percent stake in the Sterling Tower.” The photo he displayed on the screen behind him was of the hungriest, most mischievous orange cat currently living in my shelter. 1 “Liam, is your ex-wife… okay?” On the live feed of the celebrity reality show Living with the Grays, Chloe Summers draped herself over my ex-husband’s arm, her laughter tinkling like cheap wind chimes. “While we’re out here hustling, building our careers, she takes your money and opens some dilapidated animal shelter on the outskirts of the city. Spends all day with a bunch of dirty cats and dogs.” She leaned into the camera, a conspiratorial glint in her eye. “I mean, some people just don’t have what it takes, so they surround themselves with helpless animals to feel important.” Liam Gray, Hollywood’s newest leading man and my ex-husband, tenderly brushed a stray strand of blonde hair from Chloe’s forehead. He offered the camera a weary, indulgent smile. “Don’t be like that,” he said, his voice dripping with magnanimity. “She just… has a big heart.” The tone was pure condescension, the kind you’d use for a child who just can’t seem to understand the grown-up world. The live comments exploded. [OMG Liam is such a gentleman! I ship them so hard! #Loe] [Chloe’s savage but she’s not wrong. Who even knew who Willa was before she married him?] [I heard she got a massive settlement. And she opens a shelter? Talk about throwing your life away.] [LOL, she gave up being Mrs. Liam Gray to go scoop poop. Is she crazy?] My phone vibrated incessantly on the counter, a stream of screenshots and “Are you okay?” texts from my few real friends. I ignored them. Setting the phone face down, I gently lifted a sleeping orange cat from the top of a scratching post. “Cheeto, you’re putting on weight again. We’re going to have to talk about portion control.” I’d named him Cheeto. He was the shelter’s hungriest, most mischievous, and most affectionate resident. I managed two strokes down his back before he pushed my hand away with an impatient paw, hopped to the floor, and expertly tore open a bag of freeze-dried salmon treats, the crunching sound echoing in the quiet room. I sighed and reached for the dustpan. The whole internet was waiting for my response, hungry for a tearful, hysterical breakdown. But all I felt was tired of the noise. When we divorced, Liam gave me this small, run-down property and a sum of money he considered “more than generous.” He expected me to wither like a vine cut from its tree, lost without his spotlight to sustain me. He never understood that all I ever wanted was to get away from the glare, to live a quiet life of my own making. On the television, a financial news network was covering a global business summit. Liam and Chloe were still on screen in a smaller window, performing their roles as the perfect, aspirational couple. I muted the volume and turned to refill the water bowls for the dogs in the yard. As I turned my back, a familiar face filled the silent screen. Alistair Sterling. The richest man in the world. A man who typically only appeared on the cover of Forbes was now standing at a podium, broadcast live across the globe. He seemed to have gone off-script, his expression etched with a raw urgency I’d never seen on a man of his stature. The next moment, he leaned into the microphone, his voice steady but laced with a barely concealed desperation that cut through the silence of my living room. I fumbled for the remote, turning the volume up. “…anyone who can help me find my cat, I am prepared to offer a ten percent stake in the Sterling Tower as a reward.” An assistant quickly projected a photo onto the massive screen behind him. It was a chubby orange cat with a comically imperious expression. It was identical to Cheeto, who was at that very moment trying to wedge his entire head into the treat bag at my feet. 2 “Willa, have you completely lost your mind?” Liam’s voice on the other end of the line was a low, controlled burn of fury. “Isn’t this embarrassing enough for you? For me?” he seethed. “Posting that kind of thing online… Do you have any idea that Chloe was mobbed by reporters all day because of you?” I’d just settled the last of the puppies for the night, my back aching from the strain. “What did I post?” “Don’t play dumb with me!” His voice shot up an octave. “That billionaire’s cat! Why did you have to jump on that bandwagon? The entire internet is laughing at you, calling you a delusional gold digger. Are you trying to drag my name through the mud with you?” I stayed quiet. After seeing the news report, I’d been stunned. But then I’d thought, there are millions of orange cats in the world. It’s probably just a coincidence. I’d gone to bed and put it out of my mind. But this morning, while trimming his claws, I’d noticed it: a faint, heart-shaped marking on the pad of Cheeto’s back paw. It was a perfect match for the detailed close-up photo Alistair Sterling had released to the press. After a long hesitation, I’d filmed a short, quiet video of Cheeto and posted it online. I didn’t show my face. It was just clips of him eating, sleeping, and attempting to shred a new armchair, ending with a clear shot of the heart-shaped mark. I hadn’t been thinking about the reward. My only thought was that somewhere out there, a man was desperately missing his pet. I never imagined it would cause such a firestorm. My Instagram followers had jumped by a million overnight, but the comments were a cesspool of mockery. [Thirsty much? Find a random ginger cat and claim it’s the billionaire’s? Pathetic.] [Nice photoshop job on the paw print. Almost looks real. ] [Just let it go, Willa. You’re divorced. Liam has moved on. Try to have some dignity.] Liam’s call was just gasoline on the fire. “Willa, I’m warning you. Delete that video right now, and post an apology. Stop living in this fantasy world. There are limits to chasing clout.” “But what if it really is him?” I asked softly. A humorless laugh crackled through the phone, followed by Chloe’s syrupy voice in the background. “Liam, honey, don’t waste your breath. She’s just jealous we’re trending, so she cooked up this insane scheme to get some attention.” Liam’s tone softened, shifting into that familiar, patronizing gentleness. “Willa, listen. I know it’s not easy for you on your own. If you’re short on cash, you can just ask me. You don’t have to resort to… this.” “I don’t need your money,” I said, cutting him off. “I was just posting a lost pet announcement.” I hung up. The phone rang again almost immediately. It was Liam’s agent. “Ms. Hayes,” he said, his voice cold and professional. “Liam and Chloe are at a critical stage in their careers. We must insist that you cease using your former association with Mr. Gray to generate publicity that negatively impacts their public image. If you refuse, our legal department will be in touch.” A threat. A bald-faced, Hollywood threat. I looked out the window. The animals I’d rescued were chasing each other across the small patch of grass, bathed in the warm afternoon sun. A wave of exhaustion washed over me. I had escaped that world, so why wouldn’t they just let me go? That evening, Chloe went live on Instagram. The theme: “Chatting about my sweet, misguided friend.” She never mentioned my name, but every word was a perfectly crafted dart aimed directly at me. “So, I have this friend,” she began, sighing dramatically. “She’s been having a really hard time since her divorce, always dreaming that some miracle will just fall into her lap. Recently, she started telling everyone she found a billionaire’s lost cat. Isn’t that just the saddest, funniest thing you’ve ever heard?” Her fans flooded the comments with laughing emojis. [LMAO, I think we all know who Chloe’s talking about.] [It’s her, isn’t it? The ex. This is the funniest story of the year.] 3 Chloe covered her mouth, her shoulders shaking with faux giggles. “No, no, you guys, don’t speculate. I’m just sharing a funny story. But seriously, you have to be realistic in life. If you spend too much time daydreaming, you can really lose your grip on reality.” The stream’s viewership soared. My name, Willa Hayes, scrolled across the screen in an endless, mocking loop. I had become a national punchline. The next day, a new kind of trouble arrived at my gate. A group of clout-chasing YouTubers, phones held out like weapons. “What’s up, guys! We’re live on the scene, about to expose the truth behind the Celebrity Ex-Wife’s Billion-Dollar Cat-fish!” They laughed as they pushed open my unlocked gate, their cameras panning across the modest yard. “Check it out! This is it. The so-called ‘palace’ where the Sterling cat is supposedly being held hostage.” “Yikes, this place is a dump. Any cat would get depressed living here.” The dogs in the yard erupted into a frenzy of barking. The more timid cats vanished. I put down the bag of kibble I was carrying and walked outside. “This is private property. You need to leave.” The leader, a guy with bleached-blond hair, shoved his phone in my face. “Whoa, the main character has entered the chat,” he sneered. “Don’t get your panties in a twist. We’re just curious. We want to see the cat that’s worth more than our entire careers combined. We’re giving you free publicity! If the billionaire sees this, you’ll be set for life. You should be thanking us.” Their live chat was a waterfall of vulgar insults. My jaw tightened. I pulled out my phone to call the police. Seeing this, the blond guy’s expression soured. He lunged, trying to snatch the phone from my hand. “What the hell are you doing?” I stumbled back, but one of his friends blocked my path. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a few pictures. Who are you trying to fool with this prim-and-proper act? We all know you posted that video for attention.” They closed in, their words sharp and humiliating. One of them shoved me, and my back slammed against the wall, a sharp pain radiating through my shoulder. Suddenly, an orange blur shot out of the house like a rocket. It was Cheeto. He launched himself through the air, a furry cannonball, and landed squarely on the blond YouTuber’s face. “Aaaargh!” A blood-curdling scream. The guy stumbled back, claw marks instantly welling up with blood on his cheek. Cheeto landed gracefully, arched his back, and let out a guttural hiss that promised more violence. The would-be internet stars, shocked and terrified, scrambled over each other to get away, tumbling out of the gate and disappearing down the street. Silence returned to the yard. I knelt and stroked Cheeto’s head. “Good boy,” I murmured. He rubbed against my hand, a deep, rumbling purr starting in his chest. Looking at him, the last of my hesitation vanished. This wasn’t about money or fame. It was about getting this little warrior home. And it was about finding a way to live my own life, on my own terms, without being pushed around by anyone. I took out my phone and recorded a new video. This time, I spoke. “His name is Cheeto. I found him in a dumpster during a rainstorm about a month ago,” I said, my voice calm and clear. “He’s a picky eater and turns his nose up at cheap kibble. He’s the undisputed king of this yard, and all the other animals know it. And he has a heart-shaped mark on the pad of his back-left paw.” I kept my tone even, factual. “I don’t know if he is the cat you’re looking for. But if your cat is anything like him, please contact me.” I took a deep breath. “I don’t want the reward. All I ask is that you make a donation of food and medical supplies to my shelter.” I paused, turning the camera to the other animals playing in the yard. “They need a home, too.” 4 The video ended with a lingering shot of the shelter’s residents—each one a survivor, each one a soul that had been thrown away. Less than half an hour later, Liam called again. “Willa, are you finally admitting this is about money?” His voice was thick with contempt. “Done playing the saint? Now you’re openly asking for donations? Couldn’t you at least try to be a little less obvious with your scheming?” I listened, saying nothing. “I’m telling you for the last time, take the video down. Stop causing problems for me. Chloe has a major gala next week, and I don’t want her name associated with this kind of desperate circus.” “Liam,” I said, my voice flat. “We’re divorced. What I do has nothing to do with you or with Chloe Summers.” “You—” I ended the call and blocked his number. And his agent’s. And his mother’s. The silence that followed was bliss. My new video began to circulate, and this time, the public reaction started to shift. The mockery was still there, but new voices emerged. [Say what you want, but that shelter looks spotless and the animals look really healthy and happy.] [Her voice is so calm. She doesn’t sound like a crazy person.] [Whether the cat is real or not, advocating for shelter animals is always a good thing.] That night was the season finale of Living with the Grays. The host, of course, brought up the incident with the YouTubers at my shelter. Chloe immediately adopted a look of pained innocence. “I was just horrified,” she said, her lower lip trembling. “I had no idea some of our fans would be so reckless. I’ve already told them their behavior was unacceptable.” She looked into the camera, her eyes welling up. “Honestly, I feel for Willa. It must be so hard for her, all alone with so many animals. Liam and I would be more than happy to help her if she’s struggling. We just wish she would reach out in a… more conventional way.” In one fell swoop, she painted herself as a benevolent saint, heartbroken over her “troubled” friend. Liam, ever the supportive partner, gazed at her with adoration. “She wasn’t always like this,” he added, shaking his head sadly. “I think living alone, all that stress… it can make people do extreme things. I just hope everyone can give her some space and stop harassing her.” Their tag-team performance was flawless. They had successfully crucified me on a cross of their own making, labeling me as unstable, desperate, and pathetic. The live chat became a torrent of hatred aimed at me. [Chloe is literally an angel.] [Liam is still protecting her! What a man!] [Willa, get help! Seriously!] I turned off the broadcast. I looked at their faces on my phone’s dark screen—the man I once shared a bed with, and the woman who had taken my place. They were basking in the glow of public adoration, while I was being treated like a rat in the sewer. I expected to feel a surge of anger, a sting of pain. But strangely, there was nothing. My heart was a placid lake, still and silent before a coming storm. The animals were asleep, and the yard was quiet except for the rustle of wind in the trees. I picked up my phone again and opened the comments on my video. A new comment had been pinned to the top. It had a gold checkmark next to the name, shining like a tiny beacon. It was from the official, verified account of Alistair Sterling. The message was five simple words. “Send us the address. On my way.” For the first time in a very long time, I smiled. A real, genuine smile that reached my eyes. I picked up the remote and switched the television back on. On screen, Chloe was dabbing a tear from her eye, her voice thick with fake emotion. “I just hope Willa can find her way back to reality soon, and stop living in a fantasy.” As the words left her mouth, the giant screen behind the stage suddenly flickered and changed. My video appeared, playing for the entire studio audience and the millions watching at home. And beneath it, highlighted for all to see, was that shining, golden comment. The host froze. The director was probably screaming in the control room.

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1 After failing to win over my first three targets, I made a final, desperate play: I got engaged to the paralyzed heiress of the Beaumont family. I spent every last point I had with the System to grant her the ability to walk again. The very first thing she did with her newfound strength was to publicly annul our engagement and throw a spectacular wedding at sea for a man named Adrian Thorne. From the deck of a nearby boat, I watched as all four of my targets gazed at Adrian, their faces soft with a tenderness they had never once shown me. A sudden, overwhelming wave of homesickness washed over me. I wanted to go home. So I turned my back on it all and threw myself into the ocean. But as my body hit the cold water, four figures dove in after me, their expressions twisted in masks of terror and regret. … On the lavish yacht, Seraphina Beaumont, radiant in her wedding gown, was sharing a blissful kiss with Adrian. As the guests cheered, the System’s mechanical voice echoed in my mind. 【Host has failed the mission. You will be terminated in fifteen days.】 A bitter smile touched my lips. I had been reborn into this body, transmigrated from my own world with a single purpose. The System had given me four targets. If I could get just one of them to a 100% affection score, my original body, riddled with a terminal illness, would be cured. For years, I had debased myself, humbled myself, and catered to their every whim. But every single time, just as I was about to reach that final threshold, Adrian Thorne would appear, and my progress would be wiped clean, my affection scores reset to zero. And now, my very last target was marrying him. With that thought, I walked to the edge of the deck and let myself fall into the deep, dark water. The ocean embraced me, a cold, silent shroud. I spread my arms, surrendering to the crushing weight, letting my body sink toward the abyss. But then, an arm hooked around my chest, dragging me back toward the suffocating light. Fresh air flooded my lungs, and before I could even register what was happening, a vicious slap sent my head snapping to the side. “You chose Adrian’s wedding to pull a stunt like this? You just had to ruin it for all of us, didn’t you?” I wiped a trickle of blood from my lip and looked up into the disgusted eyes of the woman who held me. The pain in my heart was a familiar, throbbing ache. My sister, Clarissa Rhodes. My first target in this world. After our parents died, we had only each other. When the car crashed, I hadn’t hesitated to shield her with my own body, taking the brunt of the impact. It left me with ruptured organs and a long stay in the ICU. She had wept over my hospital bed, promising that no matter what, she would always protect me. We were, she’d said, the only family we had left. But the day I was discharged, she brought Adrian home, announcing he was our new “little brother.” She moved him into my room and did nothing when he tortured my dog of eight years to death. Every argument between Adrian and me, she took his side, calling me petty and cruel for not being more welcoming. The ninety-seven points of affection I had painstakingly earned over eight years were erased by Adrian in less than a week. From that day on, her affection for me plummeted, and she eventually stopped acknowledging me as her brother at all. Seeing me sitting there, dazed and silent, Clarissa fished a bottle of heart medication from her purse and threw it at my chest. “Are you going to fake another heart attack? Take your pills and get the hell out of my sight!” I didn’t have a heart condition. The chest pains were a punishment from the System. In the past, she’d always carried these pills out of fear for my life. Now, her gesture held no warmth. I picked up the bottle, twisted off the cap, and poured a handful of the small white pills into my mouth. Clarissa’s eyes widened in shock. “Ethan, are you insane?!” she shrieked, slapping the pills from my hand. The bitter tablets scattered across the deck. She gripped my wrist, her hand trembling. I wasn’t insane. I just wanted to go home. I wanted one last chance to say goodbye to my real sister. I remained silent. Clarissa shot me a venomous glare. As a crowd of wedding guests began to gather, she impatiently ordered her bodyguards to drag me off the boat. Just as I set foot back on the main yacht’s deck, I heard the click of high heels behind me. A sweet, melodic voice followed. “Ethan, what are you doing here?” A soft gasp. “Oh my god, you’re soaked!” I turned to see Seraphina Beaumont, the woman who was almost my wife. A sliver of warmth pierced through the icy despair in my chest. So, she did still care, didn’t she? 2 As I opened my mouth to speak, her hand flew out and struck me across the face, the force of it sending me stumbling. “Did you really think I’d give you a second look just because you pull a stunt like this? Don’t make me laugh!” she sneered. “You’ve disrupted my wedding, and I promise you, you will pay for it.” Before I could react, she grabbed me by the throat, her grip like iron, and forced the upper half of my body over the railing, dangling me above the churning waves. The world began to blur as the air was crushed from my lungs, but I didn’t struggle. Maybe it’s better this way, I thought. To just die. I closed my eyes, ready to accept the end. But my passivity seemed to unnerve her. She yanked me back onto the deck, her eyes wide with a strange mix of shock and fury. “Why aren’t you fighting back? Why aren’t you saying anything? Do you actually want to die?!” Would she believe me if I tried to explain? I had tried so many times before, but she’d always dismissed my words as pathetic excuses, pushing her further and further into Adrian’s arms. A cold, hollow laugh escaped my lips. “I’ve already lost everything. Death doesn’t seem so bad.” Seraphina’s face went pale. She seized the front of my shirt, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Your life is mine to take! You don’t have my permission to die!” When we were first engaged, her family had despised me, doing everything in their power to break us apart. To defy them, she had endured her family’s brutal ‘discipline’ time and time again, beaten black and blue but never yielding. When I found out, I went to the Beaumont estate and took the punishments in her stead. As I lay bleeding and broken, she had held me, making me promise that I would never, ever die without her permission. I looked up at her, about to speak, when a small, delicate girl pushed her way through the crowd. Lily. My second target. My best friend in this world. She didn’t say a word. She just ground her heel into my cheek and threw a stack of photographs at my chest. “Since you had the nerve to ruin Adrian’s day, I have no reason to spare your dignity, Ethan!” The photos scattered around me. Me, tied up and beaten like a dog. Me, forced down and ridden like an animal. Me, stripped naked with the word ‘TRASH’ carved into my skin. Lily had taken every single one. She had an artist’s eye, carefully framing each shot to capture the humiliation on my face in perfect, sharp detail. She did it all because I had exposed Adrian for cheating in a photography competition, shaming him in front of everyone. As the crowd gasped and jeered, Lily raised her camera and snapped a picture of me, kneeling and broken on the deck. In the corner of the camera, a small, elegant engraving glinted in the light. Lily & Ethan It was a gift from me. Her mother had died when she was young, and her father was a monster who brought home a string of cruel women. They took pleasure in tormenting her. We became friends by chance, and one night, I fought off one of her father’s lecherous friends to protect her. The beating I took left me temporarily blind. To comfort her, I gave her the camera and asked her to capture all the beauty in the world that I could no longer see. My vision returned, but her passion for photography remained. Until, one day, her camera started filling with pictures of Adrian. “Get on your knees and apologize to Adrian right now,” she said, her voice like ice. “Or I will post every single one of these online and see how you ever show your face in public again.” When I didn’t move, her voice dropped even lower. She grabbed me by the collar and hauled me to my feet, but my body was too weak. I crumpled, my knees hitting the hard deck with a sickening crack. Seraphina frowned, taking a step forward to help me, but Lily blocked her path. “Don’t be fooled by his pathetic act, Miss Beaumont. I trusted him once, and because of me, Adrian can never take another photograph.” She glared down at me. “Ethan, you were so desperate to beat Adrian in that competition that you not only hired thugs to assault him and take those disgusting photos, but you also framed him for cheating. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, Adrian would have killed himself!” Hearing this, Seraphina’s expression hardened into pure loathing. “Get out of here,” she hissed. “If you disrupt this wedding any further, I will personally ensure that everything Adrian suffered happens to you, ten times over. I’ll make you—” I didn’t wait to hear the rest. I scrambled to my feet and ran, not toward the exit, but straight for the busy road just beyond the pier. A massive truck was thundering toward me. I closed my eyes, ready for the impact. But just before the end, a body slammed into mine, shoving me out of the way. 3 Seraphina dragged herself toward me, her leg bleeding and bent at an unnatural angle, and seized my collar. “Who are you trying to impress with this death wish, Ethan? Do you think this makes me feel sorry for you?!” At the same time, the System’s voice chimed in. 【Host, detecting a rise in Seraphina Beaumont’s affection score. Do you wish to resume the mission?】 I stared at her in shock. She was already on her phone, telling her assistant to cancel the rest of the wedding ceremony. She felt my gaze and looked up, her expression unreadable. I calmly looked away. “No.” All I want now is to go home. A driver took me back to my small apartment. It was only then that I noticed the scrapes and bruises covering my body, caked with a mixture of grime and dried blood. I found a first-aid kit and was about to clean the wounds when the door was kicked open. Lily stormed in, her face contorted with rage, and kicked me squarely in the stomach. “Where did you take Adrian? If anything happens to him, I’ll make you wish you were never born!” Seraphina and Clarissa followed her in, their expressions just as menacing. “So that’s what this was all about,” Clarissa sneered. “All those pathetic suicide attempts were just a distraction to cover your tracks. I’m telling you, Ethan, if Adrian is harmed in any way, I will kill you myself.” I had no idea where he was. But their words sparked a dark, desperate thought. If they cared about him that much… maybe his disappearance would finally push them over the edge. Maybe they would finally kill me. Seeing my silence, a flicker of pure hatred crossed Seraphina’s face. “It seems you won’t talk unless we give you a reason to.” She grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first-aid kit and poured it directly onto my open wounds. The sharp, searing pain made my body seize. A cold sweat broke out across my forehead. But they weren’t finished. Bodyguards pinned my arms and legs to the floor. Lily returned with a pair of fire tongs, glowing red-hot from the stove, while Seraphina continued to douse my cuts with alcohol. I was terrified. I wanted to die, but not like this, not tortured to death! I thrashed wildly, but a heavy blow to the back of my head silenced my struggles. Blood streamed down my face, and the strength drained from my limbs. I could barely whisper. “Just… kill me…” My defiance only seemed to fuel Seraphina’s rage. She grabbed a fruit knife from the kitchen counter and knelt over me. The tip of the blade, gleaming with cold light, hovered less than an inch from my left eye. “Do you really think this will make us feel pity? I’ll ask you one last time. Where is Adrian?!” My face was ashen, but I forced my lips into a triumphant, mocking smile. “Adrian? Oh, I killed him,” I rasped. “I threw his body into the sea for the sharks!” I looked at each of them, my voice rising with a delirious, final burst of energy. “You all loved him so much, didn’t you? You all wanted to marry him! Too bad that will never happen now.” “So go on! Kill me! Avenge your precious Adrian!” Seraphina’s eyes blazed. With a guttural scream of pure fury, she plunged the knife deep into my chest. My body went limp. As the world faded to black, a cheerful, familiar voice drifted in from the courtyard. “Hey, what’s everyone doing here? I brought snacks! Ah! Why is there so much blood?”

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All because her young assistant, Aiden, threw a drunken scene at our engagement party, sobbing that she couldn’t marry me, my fiancée, Luna, publicly slipped off the diamond ring I had just placed on her finger. She looked at me, her face a mask of distress, her eyes pleading. “Ethan, if we continue with the ceremony, Aiden will truly break down. I swear, as soon as I calm him down, we’ll get married immediately.” “Don’t worry,” she whispered, “I only see him as a little brother. You will always be the man I love most.” I watched her tear off her veil without a second thought and rush to Aiden’s side, her voice a soft murmur of comfort. And in that moment, I knew I had to call it off. She would never know that I had made a sworn pact with my family. If I wasn’t married in three days, I would have to return home and accept the alliance they had arranged for me. It seemed our time was finally up. 1 The first time Aiden caused a scene, shouting for Luna not to marry me, she had shut him down instantly, her face stern as she publicly reprimanded him. But as I prepared to place the ring on her finger for the second time, he started again. He smashed a wine bottle on the floor, held a jagged shard to his own neck, and sobbed uncontrollably. “Luna, if you marry Ethan Quinn, I’ll die right here in front of you!” This time, Luna panicked. She was no longer the strong woman who, just moments before, had defended my honor by scolding her unruly assistant. Instead, she frantically pulled the ring from her finger, tossing it aside as she rushed to him, her voice a gentle plea for him to be calm. She turned to me, her words tumbling out in a rush. “Ethan, Aiden is unstable right now. We have to stop the engagement. I know it’s not fair to you, but darling, our engagement can be postponed. Aiden only has one life.” “And don’t worry,” she added, her eyes locking with mine. “Even if we cancel this, you are the only man I will ever love.” When I remained silent, she bit her lip, her voice turning bitter with unshed tears. “The choice is yours. But no matter what you decide, my love for you will never change.” I saw the suppressed pain in her expression and understood. She was giving me a choice in name only. The decision had already been made for her. In that instant, I didn’t feel sadness. I felt a profound, chilling sense of desolation. Luna and I had been in love for six years, and this wasn’t the first time she had chosen Aiden’s feelings over mine. I had been jealous, I had argued with her, but every time, after soothing me with gentle words and promises, she would turn around and meet with him again. Over time, I’d learned to let it go. After so many years, the thought of breaking up was unbearable, especially with our wedding so close, the culmination of a long-held dream. But today’s spectacle made one thing brutally clear. There was no going back. “Fine,” I said, my voice flat. “Cancel it.” Luna’s eyes filled with a mixture of tenderness and pity. But her next words were for him. “So, the rest of the ceremony…” She didn’t have to finish. I knew what she wanted. She needed me to dismiss the guests, to give Aiden an out. So I did as she wished. “Everyone,” I said into the microphone, my face a blank mask. “Today’s engagement ceremony is canceled. Thank you all for coming. Please, you may leave.” As I spoke, I saw Aiden lower the shard of glass, his breathing steadying. But the guests were not so calm. Their whispers followed me, sharp and critical. One man even walked up to me, his lip curled in a sneer. “What a doormat. Another man steals your fiancée right in front of you, and you just let him?” Arguing felt pointless, so I said nothing. But Luna wouldn’t stand for it. She rushed over, shielding me protectively. “What do you know?” she snapped at the man. “My Ethan does this because he loves me! As long as I’m here, no one gets to bully him. Now get out!” The guest, taken aback by her ferocity, muttered something under his breath and scurried away. A bitter irony washed over me. No one gets to bully Ethan? But you’re the one doing the bullying, Luna. As the crowd thinned, she turned to me, her voice soft again. “Ethan, don’t worry. I’ll plan the next engagement party myself. I promise, you won’t be wronged again.” I didn’t respond. Just then, Aiden shuffled over, his head bowed in mock shame. “Ethan, I’m so sorry. I was just drunk. I’m sober now. Why don’t you two… continue with the engagement?” He looked up, his dark eyes wide and sincere. “I promise I won’t cause any more trouble. Really.” If he had said that before every last guest had walked out the door, I might have actually believed him. Luna frowned at him. “You may be sober, but you’ve already ruined the party,” she chided gently. “Aiden, you were completely out of line this time. You’ve caused Ethan a great deal of trouble. He’s my fiancé, your future brother-in-law. You need to apologize to him properly.” Aiden mumbled a weak apology, then looked up at her with a pathetic, pleading expression. “Luna… you know you promised to go to that spa retreat with me? I already bought the tickets. Can we… can we still go later?” He glanced nervously at me. “If Ethan doesn’t agree, then… we don’t have to.” Luna’s expression softened with pity. She paused, then turned to me. “Ethan, why don’t the three of us go together?” Before I could answer, Aiden chimed in again, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m sorry, Ethan… the tickets… they’re for a couple’s package. They’re all sold out now. Maybe you and Luna should go. I’ll just… stay behind.” Luna was trapped. I could see the conflict warring on her face, the words to send him away stuck in her throat. I remembered clearly how much she despised public spas; she’d always said they were unsanitary when I’d invited her. But for Aiden, she was suddenly interested. I decided to make it easy for her. “You two go,” I said, my voice devoid of emotion. “I’m going home to rest.” I turned and walked out of the hotel. Luna, her face etched with guilt, hurried after me. I could see her wrestling with the decision, wanting to say she’d stay with me but unable to form the words. We reached the parking garage. We’d only brought one car. Aiden had mentioned the spa was thirty miles away. Snow had begun to fall, dusting the pavement in a fine white powder. “Take the car,” I said, handing her the keys. I decided to walk home. It was only a couple of miles. She watched me, a lone figure turning to face the cold, and her expression deepened with heartache. A moment later, she ran to catch up, her hand instinctively reaching for mine. “Ethan, your hands are freezing!” Without another word, she unwound her scarf and pulled off her gloves, bundling them onto me. She leaned in close, her breath warm against my ear. “Don’t overthink this, Ethan. I’ll arrange the wedding soon. I promise.” Her eyes were liquid pools of affection. I didn’t answer. I just nodded and walked away. The snow was coming down harder now, catching in my hair, the cold seeping into my very bones. My phone rang. “Ethan. We heard the engagement was canceled.” The voice was cold, familiar. “As per our agreement, you have three days. Then you will return home and fulfill your obligation to this family.” 2 I was supposed to be the heir to the Quinn dynasty of Sterling City. But I refused to be a pawn in their corporate alliances, so I left for the quiet city of Oakhaven to make my own way. That’s where I met Luna. We fell in love. When my family found out, they used all their power to try and force me back. I stood my ground, and we struck a deal: if I wasn’t married within three years, I would return and accept their terms. I used to think marriage was just a formality, a piece of paper that couldn’t change the love Luna and I shared. Reality had just slapped me in the face. After agreeing to my family’s terms, I walked home. The winter air was biting. Even with Luna’s scarf and gloves, I couldn’t stop shivering. As if on cue, a text from her lit up my phone: Are you home yet? I typed back, Home, then stepped into a scalding hot shower. When I emerged, a new voice message from Luna was waiting. I pressed play. The background was filled with the sound of splashing water and laughter. “Stop it, Aiden, you little monster! You’re getting my robe all wet!” “Look, Luna! I’m swimming over to you!” I knew their voices instantly. A bitter taste filled my mouth. A moment later, the message was retracted. Then, my phone rang. It was her. I let it ring a few times before answering. “Ethan? Did you… did you get a message from me just now?” Her voice was tight with anxiety. “What message?” I said coolly. “I just got out of the shower.” I heard her breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh, nothing,” she said with a forced laugh. She told me to stay warm, that she probably wouldn’t be coming home tonight. I grunted in acknowledgment and hung up. A suffocating sadness settled over me. Looking around our home, everything—from the pattern on my pillows to the style of the furniture—was a testament to our shared history. She used to look at me with stars in her eyes and say, “Ethan, you’re the light of my life. I will love you forever.” How could a love like that just… change? I threw myself into my work. If I was leaving, I had affairs in Oakhaven to wrap up. An email notification popped up. My inbox, which was synced with Luna’s, was flooded with over a thousand photos. I opened one. It was them. Luna and Aiden at the spa. Under the warm, ambient lighting, they posed in matching robes, laughing in the thermal pools, lounging on tatami mats. The pictures were playful, intimate. The chemistry between them was palpable, their gazes charged with a restrained heat. I scrolled through them, one after another, a creeping numbness spreading through my chest. The next morning, I was jolted awake by a call from Luna. She was frantic. “Ethan, you saw the photos, didn’t you? Aiden and I were just messing around, I swear. Please, don’t get the wrong idea.” 3 “Ethan, if you’re angry, just yell at me. I know I crossed a line with Aiden,” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “I’m so sorry. It will never happen again. Please don’t keep it bottled up. Please?” My silence only made her more agitated. Finally, I spoke. “It’s fine.” She didn’t believe me. “No, it’s not,” she said, her voice cracking with a sob. “I know you’re hurting. Wait for me. I’m packing now, I’m coming home. I’ll explain everything in person. Please, Ethan, don’t be upset.” She hung up abruptly. I glanced at the clock. A little after seven. Time to pack my own bags. As I was zipping up the last of my suitcases, our housekeeper saw me and gasped. “Sir? Are you leaving? Miss Luna will never allow it.” She was right. Everyone who worked for us knew how much Luna adored me. The day she brought me here, she had gathered the entire staff and declared, “Ethan is the master of this house. His word is law. You must take care of him above all else. No one is to ever make him unhappy.” If I tried to leave, she would fight tooth and nail to keep me. She couldn’t imagine a life without me. “It’s okay,” I told the housekeeper. “I’ll talk to her.” I was gone before Luna got back. I checked into a hotel downtown. Two hours later, there was a frantic knocking at my door. I opened it to find Luna, her hair a mess, tear tracks staining her cheeks. The moment she saw me, she sagged with relief and threw herself into my arms. “Ethan, why did you move out? You scared me to death!” Before I could respond, Aiden appeared from around the corner, his expression wounded. “Ethan, all we did was go to a spa to relax. Do you really need to run away from home just to get attention? You’re doing this just to hurt me, aren’t you?” His voice choked. “If that’s the case, maybe I should just go die and stop being a burden to everyone!” Luna immediately pushed me away and rushed to Aiden’s side. “Aiden, don’t say things like that!” she hissed. After a few quiet words to him, she grabbed my arm and pulled me back into the room, closing the door behind us. She looked exhausted, her voice low and strained with disappointment. “Ethan, I know you don’t like Aiden, but can you please not provoke him? I told you, you’re the only man I’ll ever love. You don’t need to test me like this. It just makes everyone miserable.” The desolation in my heart deepened. “Sorry,” I said flatly. “It won’t happen again.” My calm demeanor seemed to soften her. “Okay, Ethan,” she said, her voice gentle again. “I’m not blaming you. I just don’t want you to be jealous. Now, come home with me. Stop sulking, okay?” I pulled my arm from her grasp. “I’m not coming back. Let’s have dinner tonight. There’s something I need to tell you.” A flicker of unease crossed her face. Before she could speak, Aiden reappeared at the door. “Luna, my head hurts,” he whined. “Can you take me to the doctor? I feel like I’m going to faint… can you help me?” Luna sighed, a flash of irritation on her face, but her body moved on instinct, stepping forward to support him. She had no choice but to leave with him. I went downstairs and booked a private dining room, inviting a few of my closest friends from Oakhaven to join me that evening. It was time to tell them—and Luna—that I was returning to Sterling City for an arranged marriage. As I was finalizing the plans, a new text arrived. It was from Aiden. A photo of Luna, wearing an apron, cooking in our kitchen. The message read: Still waiting for Luna to come get you from your lonely hotel room, Ethan? Keep waiting. She’s busy making me my favorite homemade soup. You’re just a clown. His taunts barely registered. I felt nothing at all. That evening, the private room filled with my friends. Only Luna was missing. I called her five times. On the fifth try, she finally picked up. “Ethan, I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice filled with guilt. “Just wait a little longer. I’ll be there as soon as I’m done here.” “It’s fine,” I said. I hung up and turned to the waiter. “We’re not waiting. Bring out the food.” 4 When I told my friends I was going home for an arranged marriage, they were stunned. But they didn’t ask questions, just offered their congratulations. Someone mentioned that I should probably tell Luna, given our long and famously devoted history. As I was debating what to do, the door to the room swung open. It was Luna, with Aiden in tow. The mood in the room shifted. Even I was shocked that she had brought him here, to this. “Ethan, I’m so sorry I’m late,” she said, sliding her arm through mine. “I didn’t realize you’d invited so many people.” She smiled brightly. “I’ll drink three glasses as an apology to everyone.” She poured three shots of whiskey and downed them without hesitation. Aiden chose that moment to speak, his tone dripping with faux innocence. “Wow, Ethan, you gathered all your best friends for this dinner. Are you planning some kind of surprise for Luna?” He sighed dramatically. “I shouldn’t have come. I’m just being a third wheel and making you uncomfortable.” His cloying act made everyone in the room visibly cringe. Even Luna shot him a warning look. “Aiden, be quiet.” He stuck out his tongue and looked down, feigning hurt. I watched them, a pair oblivious to the world, wearing matching couple’s watches, emanating the same subtle perfume. And I knew with absolute certainty that the woman who had once loved me so fiercely was gone forever. “So, Ethan,” Luna said, turning her attention back to me. “You said you had something to tell me. What is it? Is this… a proposal?” A shy, pleased blush colored her cheeks, mixed with a hint of apprehension. She leaned in, whispering, “Ethan, can we postpone the proposal? It’s not really appropriate with Aiden here. Maybe next time…” One of my friends couldn’t take it anymore. “You’ve got it wrong, Luna,” he said, his voice flat. “He’s not proposing to you.” “He’s telling you he’s going home for an arranged marriage.” Every eye in the room turned to Luna. The smile on her face froze. She stared at my friend, then at me, her expression bewildered. “An arranged marriage? What are you talking about?” Her voice trembled, but she forced a gentle tone. “Ethan, what are they saying? I don’t understand…” I could see the panic rising in her eyes. I took a deep breath. “Luna,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “I’m going back home to marry my fiancée.” “We’re breaking up.”

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