Everyone said Caleb Hayes was crazy about me. For years, we were the kind of love story that burns down buildings. He was the proudest man I knew, and I was the only one who ever saw him laugh until he cried, the only one for whom he would have broken every bone in his body. But in our seventh year, he met her. The one he said he was “truly meant for.” One spectacular fight, and we were over. Five years later, on the third day after his return to the States, he smashed my food truck to pieces in a public square, all to defend his new girl’s honor. I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable. I slapped her three times, hard enough to leave a mark. We both ended up at the precinct. I refused to reconcile. They locked me up. He posted bail that same day, paid her fine, and walked out with his arm around her. Three days later, an officer told me they needed to call a family member to come get me. “Don’t have any,” I said, my voice flat. “They’re all dead.” As if on cue, Caleb showed up with a crowd of his friends, all of them ready to enjoy the show. I grabbed the nearest heavy object—a fire extinguisher—and swung. That little stunt bought me a few more days in a cell. Later, a female cop looked at me, genuinely confused. “What’s with the temper?” I just stared back in silence. There was no point in explaining. When you’re already dying, you stop giving a damn about being polite. Besides, his brother was the one who killed my father. Another swing of that fire extinguisher would have been getting off easy. 1 It was three in the morning. The last of the late-night crowd had drifted away from the food truck, and I was shutting down the grill. A girl with bleached-blonde hair appeared out of the darkness, leaning over the counter to look at the menu. Trailing behind her was Leo, Caleb’s best friend. His eyes met mine, and he froze. “Jenna, maybe we should try somewhere else?” Leo whispered, his voice tight. Jenna just shook her head, her smile relentlessly cheerful. “At three a.m.? Where else are we going to go? Besides,” she said, her gaze flicking to me, “this place looks… authentic. And clean!” She finally looked me in the eye. “We’ll take one of everything. And go easy on the spice—my boyfriend can’t handle too much heat.” I mumbled an okay from behind my mask, my hand trembling slightly as I stoked the coals. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t nerves. It was the body’s primal reaction to seeing a predator. “Leo, can you grab me a soda?” she chirped. “Caleb will be here any minute. We should have something to toast with, a little celebration for being back home.” Leo’s face was a stone mask. He didn’t answer. He knew perfectly well that as long as I was standing here, Caleb wouldn’t be celebrating anything. Jenna didn’t seem to notice. She unlocked her phone, the screen lighting up with a photo of two clasped hands. Caleb’s left hand was unmistakable. The missing half of his pinky finger was a stark, white scar against her skin. I was the one who did that, years ago, with a knife. Of course, he’d paid me back in full. The thin, silvery scar above my eyebrow was a permanent reminder of his shove, of my head meeting the corner of a marble coffee table. As if worried I might not be paying enough attention, Jenna switched her phone to speaker, her voice sickly sweet as she left a message. “Caleb, we’re at this little barbecue truck waiting for you! Hurry up, baby. I just sent you the location.” Five years, and she hadn’t developed a single new trick. Pathetic, that she thought this little performance would get under my skin. I sprinkled chili flakes over a skewer of lamb. My hand twitched. A little extra fell on. Might as well add some more. “Caleb! Over here!” Jenna suddenly shot to her feet, waving wildly at a figure emerging from the distant shadows. She ran to him, throwing her arms around his neck. Through the haze of grill smoke, Caleb’s eyes found mine. For a split second, he looked stunned. Jenna felt him stiffen and started to turn, but he caught her chin, tilting her head up and crushing his mouth to hers in a brutal, performative kiss. I looked away, squeezing another line of hot sauce onto a row of corn. The smoke billowed, thick and acrid, stinging my eyes. Leo shuffled up to the counter, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally managed to speak. “Sadie… please,” he stammered. “Don’t make this harder. They’ve been through so much to get here. It wasn’t easy, I…” His words were lost in a fit of coughing as the smoke washed over him. I ignored him, focusing on the fire. The heat was choking me, but it was a familiar burn. It kept me sharp. Just then, a voice I hadn’t heard in five years cut through the night. A voice I still heard in my nightmares. “Leave it on the grill longer,” Caleb said, not looking at me. “My girlfriend likes her food tender.” 2 Leo held his breath, watching me. I simply plated the skewers and set them on the counter. “Enjoy.” Jenna rested her chin in her hands, her eyes sparkling as she looked at Caleb. “Try it, baby. Does it taste like you remember?” Suddenly, the metal stool next to their table was yanked back. Two beefy guys, shirtless and draped in gold chains, sat down heavily. “Hey! Get us some ribs,” one of them barked. They cracked open a case of beer they’d brought with them and started chugging, tossing a handful of crumpled bills onto my counter. “Extra spicy,” the other one slurred. “If it ain’t got a kick, we ain’t paying.” A few minutes and several beers later, they were wasted, catcalling me from their table. “Hey, beautiful! How about some extra sausage? A guy’s gotta keep his strength up for later, you know?” While their table grew louder, Caleb’s was unnervingly silent. Leo tried to get up and leave several times, but Caleb held him in place with a look. His eyes followed my every move, a detached curiosity in his gaze. He was probably wondering what sequence of failures had led me from a penthouse apartment to a grimy food truck on a Tuesday night. I didn’t care. A customer was a customer. And God, I needed the money. One of the drunks told a filthy joke, and his table roared with laughter. Jenna, however, was not amused. She could have just left. Instead, she stood up, walked over, and poured her entire beer over the bald head of the guy with the neck tattoo. The sound of the plastic cup hitting his skull was a dull thud. Beer and foam dripped down his face. He exploded, slamming the table and lunging to his feet. Caleb instantly jumped up, pulling Jenna behind him. He yanked his wallet out, throwing a thick wad of cash onto their table. “That’s for the trouble. Now go find somewhere else to drink.” I let out a cold laugh. If they left, my money left with them. In a flash, I snatched the cash from the table. Then I grabbed a half-full bottle of water and dumped it squarely over Jenna’s head. “Ah! You… you bitch!” she shrieked. Maybe that trip abroad had damaged her memory. She should have known better than to call me that. I fisted the money in one hand and grabbed the front of her designer blouse with the other, stuffing the wet bills down her shirt. For good measure, I slapped her. Hard. “Keep that mouth of yours clean,” I said, my voice dangerously low. “Or I’ll be happy to sew it shut for you.” The world went silent, the only sound the crackle of the embers on the grill. “Sadie, are you insane…” Caleb started. I spun around and slapped him, too. He touched his lip, a slow, cruel smile spreading across his face. “You can hit me. But hitting my fiancée? That’s crossing a line. Jenna, baby, what do you say? How should we make her pay?” Jenna clutched her cheek, fat tears welling in her eyes. Caleb’s gaze swept over my small setup. “This is a nice little truck you’ve got here. How about we smash it up for you, Jenna? Would that make you feel better?” Before I could react, he went berserk, grabbing racks of food and hurling them to the ground, kicking over tables and chairs, sending my entire livelihood crashing onto the greasy pavement. The two drunks stared, mouths agape, looking from me to the enraged man demolishing my life. They scrambled away into the night. I stared at the wreckage. Something inside me finally snapped. I launched myself at Jenna, grabbing a fistful of her bleached hair and pulling. It took both Caleb and Leo to drag me off her. In the end, all four of us ended up at the precinct. As the cops put me in the car, I looked at the ruin of my truck. That was at least a thousand dollars in damages. Enough to cover a week of my chemo. This was literally killing me.

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After the ninety-ninth proposal, Liam finally agreed to marry me. I spent all morning on my hair and makeup, choosing a simple white dress that felt both hopeful and appropriate for the City Clerk’s office. I sat on a cold stone bench across from the grand, columned entrance from nine a.m. until the sun began to dip, painting the sky in shades of bruised purple. Then, my phone buzzed with a text from him. “Getting a license for Daisy’s dog. We’ll have to reschedule.” A moment later, a new post from Daisy popped up on my Instagram feed. A picture of her chihuahua, held in Liam’s arms, both of them beaming. The caption read: “Someone still comes running the second I call. Makes you wonder… if I called out on his wedding day, would he leave her at the altar for me? ” Beneath it, a single comment from Liam’s account appeared. “I would.” I stared at that two-word death sentence for a long time, the ambient noise of the city fading to a dull hum. And then, a strange sense of calm washed over me. It was over. The fight had gone out of me, leaving behind a hollow sort of peace. I scrolled through my contacts, found a number I’d saved but never planned to use, and dialed. “You wanted an alliance between our families, right? The City Clerk’s office closes in thirty minutes.” 1. “Are you serious?” The man on the other end of the line sounded so genuinely shocked that he stumbled over his words. “You… you mean it?” “Yes or no?” “Yes! Yes, absolutely. Don’t move. I’m on my way.” Caleb Sterling hung up so fast it was as if he was afraid I’d vanish if he stayed on the line a second longer. Less than twenty minutes later, a black Maybach screeched to a halt at the curb in front of me. The driver’s door flew open and Caleb emerged, looking nothing like the perpetually relaxed, borderline-lazy heir I’d always known him to be. It was the first time I’d ever seen him in a suit. It fit him perfectly. When I didn’t move, he leaned in close, his handsome face a mask of playful menace. “Ava Sinclair, you better not be yanking my chain. You back out now, and all bets are off…” “I’m not backing out,” I said, rising. “Let’s go.” Once we had the marriage certificate in hand, he treated it like a sacred artifact, carefully tucking it into the inner pocket of his suit jacket. Watching him, you’d think he was genuinely in love with me, not just with the strategic advantage our union would give his family’s business empire. As we parted ways on the steps of the courthouse, Caleb gave me a jaunty tip of his chin. “I’ll see you in a week. To pick up my bride.” I nodded. I’d just walked through the front door of my family’s estate when Liam came in behind me. He shot me a single, unreadable glance before hurrying past me into the house. He moved like a man escaping a fire. In the grand living room, my parents were sitting with a few of my uncles, all close family friends. My mother’s face lit up when she saw me, and she beckoned me over with a smile. “Darling, do you have the certificate? We asked Liam, but he said he didn’t have it.” My eyes instinctively flickered toward Liam. One of my uncles chuckled. “Well, of course she has it. Everyone knows our Ava has been desperate to lock Liam down since they were kids. She’ll guard that piece of paper with her life.” At his words, a shadow passed over Liam’s face. He stared directly at me, his eyes filled with a familiar, weary disgust and a clear warning. It was a look I knew well—a silent command to smooth things over, to explain, to manage everyone’s expectations so he wouldn’t have to. For a split second, I almost did it. The old habit was strong. But then, as the words formed on my tongue, they dissolved. Why should I? We were nothing to each other now. Let him feel the burn of uncertainty for once. Let him wait. I clutched my handbag a little tighter and smiled. “Yes, it’s with me. But you can’t see it just yet.” I let the statement hang in the air before adding, “Oh, and we set a date for the wedding. It’s one week from today.” With that, I excused myself and went upstairs, leaving a fresh wave of good-natured teasing in my wake, all of it centered on how deeply I must love Liam. They weren’t wrong about the history. Liam came to live with us when he was ten years old. We grew up like siblings, then something more—at least for me. He was the classic boy from the wrong side of the tracks, taken in by my father, and I fell for him. But he never saw it that way. He saw my affection as a gilded cage, an insult to his pride. He hated the special treatment he received because of me, the whispers that he was the Sinclair family’s charity case. All his patience, all his kindness, he saved for another girl. No matter how devoted I was, how many times I humbled myself to propose, he met it with disdain. He had no idea how many lucrative alliances my family, the Sinclairs, had to politely refuse because I insisted I would marry no one but him. He didn’t know about the quiet snubs, the closed doors, the business deals that mysteriously fell through. In our world, if you aren’t at the very top, rejection is a sign of weakness. Isolation is an invitation for predators. My love for him had become a liability my family could no longer afford. But now, they wouldn’t have to. And I didn’t need him anymore. As I was about to close my bedroom door, a figure pushed past me into the room. “Ava. We need to talk.” 2 Liam shut the door behind him, his face tight with anger. “We didn’t get a license! Why would you lie to them? And how dare you set a wedding date without talking to me.” I looked at his clenched fists and offered a placid smile. “Who says the wedding is with you?” His brow furrowed in irritation. “I don’t have time for your games. Just go back down there and clear this up. Don’t let it turn into a bigger mess than it already is.” I swallowed the familiar bitterness and walked to the window, looking out over the manicured lawns. “Don’t worry, Liam. There won’t be a mess. In fact, it’s a win-win for everyone. You’ll be… free.” His frown deepened. “What is that supposed to mean?” I sighed, about to tell him everything, when the door burst open with a bang. A tiny chihuahua shot into the room and immediately began nipping and tearing at my ankle. Daisy rushed in after it, scooping the dog into her arms with a frantic apology. “Oh my God, Ava, I’m so, so sorry! It was an accident! Please don’t be mad at Tinkerbell!” The puppy was so small its bites felt more like playful nibbles. Hardly a reason for Daisy’s theatrical panic. I looked at her, confused. She was the daughter of our head housekeeper, a girl who was all smiles and sunshine to everyone else, but who always adopted a posture of meek fragility around me. It was a performance that always made Liam think I was secretly bullying her. Seeing Daisy’s eyes well up with tears, Liam’s face softened with protective concern. “It’s okay, Daisy, don’t worry. He barely even nipped her. Nothing happened.” Then his gaze shifted to me, his eyes as cold and hard as river stones. “It’s just a dog, Ava. Do you have to make a big deal out of everything?” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. I hadn’t said a single word, yet I was already the villain. Before I could respond, a voice called up from the foyer. Someone had arrived with wedding gifts. Downstairs, Liam’s face grew even darker as he saw the mountain of lavishly wrapped boxes. Daisy’s eyes, however, widened with naked greed. She immediately reached into an open crate and pulled out a framed sketch. “Wow! Ava, did Liam get all of this for you?” I frowned. How could Liam possibly afford any of this? He was a boy my family had sponsored, nothing more. I was about to correct her when Liam grabbed my wrist and pulled me aside, his voice a furious whisper. “Do you have to humiliate me like this? I don’t need you to buy me a reputation! I’m telling you right now, I am not marrying you. End this ridiculous charade.” So that’s what he thought. “You’re mistaken,” I began. “These are from Cale—” “Ah! Tinkerbell, no! You can’t chew on that!” Daisy’s shriek cut me off. I turned to see the sketch on the floor, torn into several pieces by the dog. A genuine surge of anger shot through me. Forget the value for a moment; this was a gift for my wedding. “Daisy,” I said, my voice sharp. “Do you have any idea what that was? Are you really incapable of controlling a three-month-old puppy, or was this deliberate?” At my tone, tears began streaming down her face. “I’m sorry, Ava, I’m so, so sorry.” I stepped forward to pick up the ruined pieces, but Liam, thinking I was going to attack Daisy, forgot all about his wounded pride and shoved my hand away. “Ava, she’s already apologized! What more do you want? It’s just a drawing! Are you actually going to hit her? You’re becoming more and more unreasonable.” I’m unreasonable? I was the one who had lost something, yet I was the one being irrational. Fine. If he wanted unreasonable, I’d show him some cold, hard reason. I fixed my gaze on Daisy. “That sketch was a Hockney. It’s valued at one hundred thousand dollars. Since your dog destroyed it, as his owner, you’ll be responsible for the cost.” Daisy’s tears stopped instantly. She stared at me, stunned, for a few seconds before her crying intensified, her body language suggesting she was about to drop to her knees and beg. Liam caught her, glaring at me with outrage. “Ava, that’s enough!” I swatted his hand away. “Of course, you’re welcome to pay for it on her behalf.” The words struck him like a physical blow. His face went pale with fury, his whole body rigid with insulted pride. He clenched his fists, his voice shaking with rage. “Stop acting like a spoiled princess. I’ll pay you back. Every last cent.” With that, he wrapped a protective arm around Daisy and stormed out. Watching him go, I couldn’t help but think of the boy who had first arrived at our house all those years ago. 3 He was ten years old when my father found him, a shy, quiet child. As an only child, I was thrilled to have a companion, and for years, he was the protective older brother I’d always wanted. Everything changed on his eighteenth birthday. Someone at his party joked that he was my future kept man, that marrying into the family was a clever career move. From that day on, he began to pull away, to resent me. All my years of devotion couldn’t stand up to a few careless words from strangers. I shook my head, a bitter smile on my lips. From every practical standpoint, Caleb Sterling was a perfect match. He had a reputation for being a bit of a playboy, but he was undeniably handsome, charming, and most importantly, his family’s wealth was endless. The day before the wedding, I went to the bridal boutique I had told Liam about a hundred times, each time being met with an impatient dismissal. I never imagined I’d run into him there, standing beside Daisy. He was in a tailored suit, she in a wedding gown. They looked perfect together. Suppressing the familiar ache in my chest, I walked into the shop. The manager greeted me warmly. “Ms. Sinclair! The custom gown you designed is ready. Shall I have it brought out for you?” I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. I had spent three months pouring my heart into that design. I wasn’t going to abandon it because of him. “Yes, please, thank you…” “Ava?” A voice cut me off. I turned to see Liam and Daisy walking toward me. Daisy, lifting the hem of her own dress, hurried over. Her eyes lit up when she saw the gown my assistant was carefully carrying. “Wow! Is this the one you designed? It’s beautiful.” Liam’s brow furrowed as he looked at it, his expression one of distaste, as if he were looking at something contaminated. Daisy reached out and touched the delicate lace. “Can I try it on?” Before I could answer, she turned to Liam, her voice a sweet plea. “Liam, can you wait for me to try this one on, too? Please?” Liam was silent for a beat, then gave a small, indulgent nod. “No,” I said, my voice firm. I was willing to let them have each other, but I drew the line at letting her wear my wedding dress. My refusal made Liam’s expression turn cold. “Ava, I’ve told you, I am not marrying you. You’re never going to wear this dress. What’s the harm in letting Daisy try it on?” I met his gaze, my own voice unyielding. “The harm is that it’s mine. So, no.” Liam looked taken aback, clearly not expecting such direct opposition from me. I had always been the one to back down. “But Liam, I really want to,” Daisy whined, clinging to his arm, her lower lip trembling. The next thing I knew, Liam had snatched the gown from my assistant’s hands. “It’s just a dress. She’ll give it back when she’s done.” Daisy took it with a triumphant smile. As she turned to go to the dressing room, the long train of the gown caught on a nearby metal clothing rack. There was a terrible screech of metal as the entire rack, weighed down with heavy garments and a mannequin, tipped over and came crashing down. For a split second, Liam’s hand instinctively shot out toward me. But then Daisy let out a sharp cry. “Ah!” His arm changed direction. He lunged for Daisy, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her out of the path of the falling debris. I was buried underneath it all. The sharp edge of the metal rack pressed into my back, sending a bolt of agony through me with every breath. When they finally pulled me out, I looked at Liam, and all I felt was a profound, chilling emptiness. Fifteen years of my life, my love, my loyalty—all of it meant less to him than a girl he’d known for three months. On the floor in front of me lay my wedding dress. A dirty high-heel print was stamped onto the pure white silk. It had been deliberately trampled. I raised my eyes to Daisy, who was nestled safely in Liam’s arms. She offered me a small, triumphant smirk. That was it. I’d had enough. I moved toward her, intending to pull her away from him, but Liam stepped in front of her, his face a mask of anger. “I know you’re upset I didn’t get to you first, Ava, but you can’t take it out on Daisy. She was almost hurt, too.” I pointed a trembling finger at the ruined gown on the floor. “And how do you explain that?” Liam’s jaw tightened. After a moment, he said, “She didn’t do it on purpose. It was a chaotic moment, she was scared, she dropped the dress. As for the footprint, we can have it cleaned.” He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “Besides, I’m not going to be at the altar tomorrow. It’s not like you’ll be getting married anyway. Stop making a big deal out of nothing.” With that, he led Daisy out of the store. Just as their figures disappeared through the door, the manager hurried over, a phone pressed to her ear. “Ms. Sinclair? Mr. Sterling has asked me to escort you to the third floor.”

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I’m dying. It’s just a matter of time here, on the planet Prime designated as its personal junkyard. They don’t even bother shipping the nutrient paste anymore. Then, I found him in the scrap heaps. He’d been dumped like a defective appliance—body shattered, legs gone. He wouldn’t even power on, no matter how many fresh cells I plugged into him. He became a statue in my home, a silent companion to my only family: an old, sparking maintenance bot named K70. I didn’t know it then, but this piece of “trash,” discarded by the apex of civilization, would become my last hope against the end of the world. Chapter 1 I found him in the scrap heaps. Or maybe “heap” is the wrong word. It was a mountain range of rust and ruin, dumped from the pristine heights of Prime. I had to move nearly two tons of twisted metal just to uncover his arm. His legs were a lost cause, so I scavenged the ones from my own decommissioned bot, K70, and fitted them as best I could. But he was dead. Utterly. I reassembled him, gave him a new power core, and still, nothing. He ended up a piece of art in my cramped metal shelter, standing next to K70, who did nothing but hiss and spit sparks if I tried to wake him. I had no money for real parts, only a can of lubricating oil. I’d spend hours polishing their scarred torsos. Maybe that’s what did it. My fingers, slick with oil, must have brushed against an exposed wire. For a single, breathtaking second, he simulated a human breath—a soft rise and fall of his chest—and then he was just a dead machine again. I’m dying, too. The planet I live on, the Brink, is Prime’s galactic landfill. The radioactive waste is piling up, and the last nutrient paste factory in the city has shut down for good. The single pane of glass in my shelter that looks out on the world is caked with a permanent layer of gray dust. In the center, the sun, raw and unfiltered through a hole in the atmosphere, burns a bright, blinding spot that makes my head spin. “—zzz…ssshh—” The receiver crackled to life, a harsh static scream. It was picking up a signal from Prime, the pinnacle of civilization. Through the noise, I could make out a message, one probably being broadcast across their entire perfect world: androids with independent consciousness were rising up, rebelling against humanity. The signal suddenly cleared, and a single, chillingly calm sentence came through. “Protect yourselves. For the future of humanity.” Before I could process it, a cataclysmic bang threw me from my thoughts. The entire doorframe collapsed inward, and a pack of them stumbled in—humans twisted by long-term radiation exposure. The Wretched. Their eyes were wild, hungry, like animals, and they started tearing my home apart. I knew what they were looking for. The radiation kills you slow. Starvation does it fast. They found nothing. As they were turning to leave, their eyes fell on my two silent androids. When I saw the intent in their faces, the desire to destroy, I threw myself in front of them. They shoved me aside like I was nothing. I watched, helpless, as they ripped the head from K70’s body. They were about to pry the chip from his skull and snap it in two. “Food,” I begged, kneeling on the cold floor. “I can give you food. Just don’t touch him.” I never had parents. It was K70, another piece of abandoned scrap, who raised me, guided by the parental subroutines loaded into his memory. He was my only family. I pried up a floor panel and pulled out the single can of peaches I’d been hiding. I offered it to them. They tossed the head back at me, but they didn’t trust me. They tore up every inch of my floor, and only after finding nothing more did they finally leave. I sat in the silence, waiting to die. And then—thump. The android I’d salvaged from the heap had fallen over. He landed directly under the window, in that single, searing beam of sunlight. I saw his chest rise. And in his dark, lifeless eyes, a flicker of light began to glow. It was the sun. The sunlight had rebooted him. … Crushed biscuit crumbs, mixed with water to form a gritty paste, were being spooned into my mouth. I woke up. For a dreamlike second, I saw K70 standing over me—whole, functional, something he hadn’t been in years. I clutched his head, my whole body shaking with disbelief. He spoke a sentence I hadn’t heard since I was a child, his voice the same gentle, synthesized tone I remembered. “Ari. Time to eat.” Tears streamed down my face. I wrapped my arms around him. “K70. You’re back.” He didn’t seem to understand. The decade we’d spent apart was, for him, nothing more than a momentary system failure. My eyes darted past him. By the window, the new android was sitting up. He was using a scattered pile of spare parts to assemble a new pair of legs for himself. “Was it you?” I asked, my voice trembling. “Did you save K70?” He was clearly a far more advanced model. His skin was a high-fidelity simulation of human flesh, his face flawlessly sculpted. If it weren’t for the exposed wiring coiling from his neck, he would have been indistinguishable from a person. He sat in the column of light and looked at me. “A reward,” he said, his voice smooth and low, “for saving me.” “Thank you,” I whispered. I thought I would die before I ever saw K70 wake up again. “My designation is K90,” he said. “And thank you… for saving me.” Chapter 2 K90’s capabilities were beyond anything I could have imagined. He didn’t just repair K70; he ventured out into the collapsed city and returned with food. “This was all I could find.” He placed two cans of chili and a protein bar on the table in front of me. To me, it was a feast. He then proposed a system overwrite for K70. “The mechanics and wiring that compose you are obsolete,” he explained to my old friend. “I cannot fully repair you. But with this update, you’ll be able to perform self-diagnostics. You’ll have a much longer operational life.” K70 turned his head to look at me, a silent inquiry. If I said no, he would refuse. “Is that okay, Ari?” he asked. “Of course! It means we can be together longer!” Having lost him once, the fear of it happening again was a constant, dull ache in my chest. Only then did K70 turn back to K90. “Then… please, proceed with the update.” He opened the data port on his chest. As the cable connected him to K90, he spoke one last, soft request. “Please… save my memories of Ari. They are the most precious thing I have.” The data transfer was slow. I waited until I couldn’t keep my eyes open any longer and fell asleep on the small cot. I don’t know how much time passed before K90 gently shook me awake. “Is it done?” “Yes.” I sat up and saw K70 sitting in the beam of sunlight. His posture was perfect, his back ramrod straight. Through the worn casings of his limbs, I could see blue energy coursing, fast and bright. He truly was more advanced. “K70!” I scrambled over, moving past K90 to get to his side. But as I reached out to touch his arm, K70’s head snapped toward me. His face, usually a mask of gentle mechanics, was now an unyielding slate of cold steel. “Unauthorized subspecies, Sector Nine—stand down.” His words froze me. I didn’t know what to do. K90’s voice came from behind me. “The update is complete, but I haven’t re-installed his memory files yet.” Oh. That was it. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. I didn’t try to touch him again, just circled him, studying this new, cold, unfamiliar version of my oldest friend. “I… read your memories. The ones with K70,” K90 said, stepping up beside me. “The life you shared was… beautiful. And you, Ari. You are beautiful, too.” He knelt down on one knee. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, K90. You brought him back to me. You brought us back together.” A smile touched K90’s lips, a genuine, human-like expression of warmth. His eyes were like glass, like the ocean, like a thousand other beautiful things that didn’t belong on the Brink. But later, when I took him with me to the scrap heaps to find more replacement parts for K70, he vanished.

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In college, I was the most popular girl on campus, and I fell in love with a boy in worn-out Converse. For the twelve years of our marriage, we were the couple everyone looked up to, the one our friends called “goals.” I supported him every step of the way, from a broke kid with a dream to a CEO with a seven-figure income. Lately, however, I’d discovered he was in love with a forty-year-old receptionist at his company. When I asked my husband about it, he just said, “Let’s get a divorce.” He blamed me. Said that while I had fulfilled his physical needs, I had neglected his spiritual world, that I was too focused on our child. Excuse me? Was he a three-year-old? Did he need to be breastfed? A grown man in his thirties was coming to me for his “spiritual needs”? And what about my spiritual needs? Who was supposed to fulfill those? Should I go out and find some old boy toy to keep me company? It’s true what they say: when a man is starving, he’ll eat anything. Fine. Divorce it is. 1 When Leo saw the divorce papers on his desk, he didn’t say a word. The terms were simple: the house, the cars, and our son all went to me. He would pay me a one-time settlement of twenty million dollars for alimony and child support. After that, we would not contact each other again. He was in the middle of a conference call. He glanced down, and I saw his expression flicker for a fraction of a second at the words “Divorce Agreement.” He then gave a slight nod, acknowledging he’d seen it. I left his home office and closed the door. To save us both time, I began packing all of his clothes and belongings. It took three large suitcases. Not wanting to miss anything, I even went up to the attic and found a box of his childhood photos to put inside. The last thing I saw was our wedding photo, tucked away in a corner. In it, Leo was impossibly handsome, and my smile was radiant. We were wrapped in each other’s arms, bathed in sunlight. I could almost hear his voice, a constant whisper in my ear back then: “I love you so much, Stella.” “I’m the luckiest man in the world.” I met Leo in college. When we met, he was a scholarship kid in frayed jeans and tattered sneakers. Plenty of guys were after me back then, but I only had eyes for him. He was calm, kind, and beautiful. He had a quiet strength I admired. We got married right after graduation. He started a company with a friend, and after I got pregnant, I became a full-time mother. I poured everything I had into taking care of Leo, our son, and our home. As the business grew, so did Leo’s networking dinners and late nights. I carved out time between school runs and household chores to stay in shape, to learn about makeup and fashion. And Leo, to his credit, was a model husband. No matter how busy he was, he always came home and helped with our son, helped with dinner, and always took my side in any disagreement with his mother. To the outside world, we were the perfect couple. I don’t know when it started, but slowly, the meetings began to shift to the evenings. Sometimes, he’d pull an all-nighter at the office. A friend once joked that I should keep a closer eye on him. I laughed it off, but a seed of doubt had been planted. A few times, I brought late-night food to the office for him and his team. There was never anything out of the ordinary. Just a group of people in a conference room, working late. And the receptionist would be there, waiting quietly at her desk. Her name was Diane. She was in her forties, not very tall, thin, with short, unassuming hair. But her voice was gentle, almost melodic, a stark contrast to her plain appearance. She always smiled and greeted me warmly. For years, I had braced myself for the possibility of this day. I’d imagined a beautiful young assistant, a bright-eyed intern, or a sharp, powerful female executive he worked with. I had never, not once, considered the receptionist. I’d heard she was divorced; her husband had cheated on her. This was her first job in years, and she was grateful for it. She came in early, memorized everyone’s coffee order, and occasionally brought in homemade pastries. Some of the employees even paid her to make their lunch every day. When I heard about it, I’d told Leo that she must be struggling and that he should look out for her. He’d been dismissive. “The office isn’t a charity, Stella. I’ve already told her to stop conducting personal business at work.” At the time, I’d teased him for being a heartless CEO. Looking back now, he was probably just upset that Diane had to go home and cook for his employees after a long day. As for why Leo chose today to ask for a divorce… it was because I made him his usual hangover remedy this morning. He’d stared at the bowl, sighed, and pushed it slightly away. After a long silence, he looked up at me, his eyes full of exhaustion, and asked if we could get a divorce. He confessed everything. The affair had been going on for six months. Every time he said he was working late, he was really sneaking away to a hotel with her. My heart shattered into a million pieces. I fought to keep my voice steady. I asked him who it was. When he said Diane’s name, I thought I’d misheard him. A wave of profound powerlessness washed over me. I felt so cold. 2 By the time Leo finished his call and came out of the office, I had finished dinner, cleaned the kitchen, and was sitting on the sofa, watching a TV show. As if nothing had happened. He went to take a shower. Halfway through, I heard him call out instinctively. “Stella, where’s my towel?” I didn’t turn around. “I packed it. You can use mine if you want. I’ll just throw it out after you’re done.” The only response was a long, heavy silence. When Leo came out, he finally saw the three suitcases by the front door. He sat down across from me and pushed the divorce agreement back in my direction. “For the child support, I can give you fifteen million now, and the rest in monthly…” I cut him off. “No. A one-time payment. A clean break.” I met his gaze. “I don’t imagine she would want you to have any more contact with me.” He looked confused. “He’s not just your son, Stella. I have a right to be a part of his life. I know this is my fault, and I’m willing to compensate you, but you don’t need to use our son to punish me.” I paused the show and looked at him, my expression serious. “Cheating was your mistake. Paying alimony and child support is the legal and moral consequence. Considering your assets, taking the house and cars is hardly asking for too much.” “As for our son, I am the one who has raised him since the day he was born. He is a highly sensitive child who needs consistency and attention. Tell me, Leo, between your work and your new romance, how much energy do you honestly have to give him? Being a part of his life is about more than money. It’s about time.” He was speechless. Finally, he said, “I’m not paying twenty million dollars to be cut out of my son’s life.” I opened the document. “The twenty million is alimony and child support. If you wish to provide additional emotional support, you can transfer funds directly to our son’s account. I’ll set one up for him.” Leo suddenly laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. “You know, Stella, I never realized how much you loved money. It’s all you can talk about.” “What else is there to talk about? Is loving you worth anything anymore?” That shut him up. His face hardened. He took a pen and signed the papers with a sharp, angry stroke, then scheduled a time for us to go to the courthouse tomorrow. He called his driver to pick him up. I finished my show and went to bed. When I woke up, Leo was gone. My son ran out of his room and hugged me, chattering excitedly about a happy dream he’d had. As I listened, I gently told him that Daddy was very busy at work and might have to be away on a business trip for a long time. Normally, he would whine and ask to call Leo, demanding to know when he was coming home. This time, he just said, “Oh.” He thought for a moment. “That’s okay. As long as I have you, Mommy.” That’s when I broke. Tears streamed down my face. I made an excuse and ran to the bathroom to compose myself. The deepest pain of this divorce wasn’t the betrayal; it was the guilt of not being able to give my son a complete family. But I knew, with absolute certainty, that this was not my fault. I dropped my son off at school, then met Leo at the courthouse. We filed the initial paperwork. There was a mandatory 30-day cooling-off period. After that, it would be final. Back in my car, I circled the date on my calendar. Divorce countdown: 30 days. 3 I debated whether to tell my parents. I had grown up in this city; all our friends and family were here. My parents were retired teachers, and I was their only child. They were open-minded, but my father’s health had been poor the last couple of years. I decided to wait. Two days later, Leo called me. He rarely called; he preferred to text because I always replied immediately. I had deleted and blocked his number last night. I answered. His voice was casual, as if nothing had changed. “Stella, your mom just called me. She’s made a big dinner and wants us to come over tonight.” He paused. “I know your dad isn’t well. I think… maybe we should wait to tell them about the divorce, until he’s stronger. What time should we go?” He added, “And his birthday is next Sunday. I should probably go with you to that, too.” Any hesitation I had about telling them vanished. “That won’t be necessary,” I said. “You don’t have to be stubborn about this, Stella. Their health is what’s important.” My voice was flat. “If you really cared about my father’s health, you wouldn’t have chosen this moment to cheat on me and end our marriage. My father may be unwell, but his mind is sharp. I don’t think he’d want me to stay in a marriage with a man who is unfaithful.” “Leo.” “Yes?” “Don’t call me again. If you want to see our son, follow the agreement. Once a week.” His tone shifted, the pretense of negotiation gone. “Stella, I’ll say it again. He is my son, too. My family…” “But you’re the one who abandoned his family, aren’t you?” I heard him slam something down on his desk on the other end. I hung up and took a moment to pull myself together. Then, I drove to the mall. I was going to replace everything in the house that he liked—the bedding, the sofa, all of it. And I wanted it delivered today. After the new furniture arrived, I cleaned the entire house from top to bottom. Then, I went to my parents’ place. When my mom saw me arrive alone, she assumed Leo was busy. I was silent for a moment, then my voice came out as a quiet, nervous, “Mom.” She immediately knew something was wrong. She stopped what she was doing, looked at me for a long moment, and then simply pulled me into her arms. I didn’t have to say a word. She could feel my pain. I told her everything, my voice as steady as I could make it. When I was done, she handed me a tissue. Her voice was soft. “It’s okay. Divorce is common these days. He was the one who was unfaithful. It’s better to know now. It’s over.” She took my hand, her eyes glistening. “Stella, I only ask one thing of you.” “Once this is done, no matter what happens, you never, ever go back to him.” “I promise,” I sobbed. Later, my mom and dad talked in their room for a long time. When my dad came out, he handed me a large check. He said today was a new beginning, worthy of a celebration. “I hope my baby girl,” he said, his voice thick with emotion, “will be happy and free, always.” I cried in my car for a long time after leaving their house. I had been so afraid of disappointing them. They had been married for forty years and barely ever argued. When I chose to marry Leo, a boy with nothing, they had respected my decision. Now that he was a success and everyone envied me, they were supporting my decision to leave him. I wiped my tears and looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 28 days. 4 When I picked my son up from school, he told me that Grandpa had called and invited him to stay over for a week. He was so excited; they had made a plan to fly a new drone together. After dropping him off, my mom walked me back to my car. “Go out, Stella. Have some fun. Be happy.” She stood on the curb, watching me until I drove away. I looked at myself in the rearview mirror. My face was pale, my eyes were dull. I took out my makeup bag and put on a bright, defiant red lipstick. I went home, packed a bag, and went on a road trip for a week. I saw new places, met new people, and listened to their stories. When I came back, I felt like myself again. I looked at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 21 days. It was time for my father’s birthday party. They had booked a room at a hotel and invited a few tables of our closest friends and family. Many of them asked where Leo was. My parents deflected the questions. Just before dinner, my father stood up to give a toast. At that exact moment, Leo walked in. He was impeccably dressed, carrying several expensive-looking gift bags and a thick envelope. Our relatives greeted him warmly. He waited for my father to finish his speech, then walked over. “Dad,” he said, handing him the envelope. “Happy birthday.” 5 My father glanced at him, his expression neutral. “Mr. Chen, you’re too kind. But we can’t accept this. After all, you and Stella are divorced now. We wouldn’t want to impose.” Leo’s smile froze on his face. The room, which had been buzzing with chatter, fell completely silent. His voice was barely a whisper. “We’re still in the process…” My father shook his head. “It’s the same thing.” He turned and began to greet other guests. Leo stood there, frozen. My mother politely took the gift bags and handed them back to him. He didn’t stay. After he left, no one mentioned his name again. It was a relief. I was healing, accepting, and slowly shedding the identity of “Mrs. Chen.” I was becoming Stella again. Even the staff in my apartment building, having heard the news from somewhere, started calling me Ms. Lin instead of Mrs. Chen. I decided I needed to get busy. I was going to open a coffee shop. I found a place that was for sale, already beautifully renovated and in a great location. I signed the lease immediately. The staff agreed to stay on, so I could keep the doors open while I spent some time refining the menu and rebranding. I spent the whole day at the shop, planning. As I got in my car to head home, I glanced at the calendar. Divorce countdown: 15 days.

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The moment the boy tried to poison me with a snack, a cascade of text exploded into my vision, floating in the air like a ghostly live-stream chat. 【Thank God the Male Lead was reborn. Once this cannon fodder side character dies, our darling White Moonlight can finally be adopted by her wealthy parents. She’ll never have to suffer from depression and commit suicide.】 【Poor Asher. In the last timeline, this side character fell for him at first sight and became obsessed. She tried to buy his love, but he never gave her a second glance. Good thing he eventually destroyed her family and got his revenge.】 【Even after being adopted, our White Moonlight had it rough. Her rich parents hated that Asher was an uneducated dropout and tried to break them up. Luckily, Asher was smart enough to arrange a few… accidents. He used the inheritance to start his empire. He’s not a book-smart type, but his potential is limitless.】 I looked from the floating text to the boy’s fake, smiling face, and without a moment’s hesitation, I pressed the emergency button on my watch. 1. A piercing alarm blared through the amusement park. Panic flooded Asher’s face. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the ice cream cone in his hand trembled, nearly falling to the ground. I took a few deliberate steps back. In the next second, my bodyguards closed in, forming a tight circle around Asher. “Miss Vivian, is something wrong?” Asher’s face was ashen, but he forced a calm expression. “Ma’am, it’s nothing. I was just selling ice cream.” The text feed in front of my eyes scrolled furiously. 【Smart move by the Male Lead. He knows the Female Lead is deathly allergic to grapes, so he made this ice cream with pure grape juice. Even if he gets caught, there’s no evidence.】 【Why are you worried? Who’s going to suspect a six-year-old? And even if there was proof, he’s a minor. Ever heard of juvenile immunity?】 【Why isn’t this side character following the script? This is so annoying. Wasting page space on her. When do we get to see the Male Lead and Female Lead together?】 【Aren’t there kidnappers known to operate near this park? Someone should just grab her already and get her out of the way.】 My nanny, however, didn’t spare Asher a single glance. She stood by my side, waiting for my command. I scanned the area, my eyes moving past the stream of text, and landed on a nondescript van parked in a shadowed corner. I raised a small hand and pointed. “I heard those people in the van,” I said, my voice a childish lisp. “They told this boy to use the ice cream to make me go with them. But I don’t want to go. If I go with them, I won’t see my mommy and daddy anymore.” The feed instantly erupted with vitriol. 【F***, what is this little bitch trying to pull? The Male Lead never said anything about kidnapping!】 【No wonder the plot kills her off. Lying and scheming at such a young age. She deserves to die.】 Asher immediately put on a wounded expression. “Little sister, how can you say that? Don’t you like this flavor? I can give you a different one.” 【Ahhhh, he’s so handsome, even when he’s pretending. In the last timeline, she fell for him instantly. His looks will probably win her over this time, too.】 I ignored Asher completely and turned to my nanny. Her brow furrowed. She immediately dialed my father’s number. Seeing things were going south, Asher tried to bolt, but one of the bodyguards grabbed him, holding him firmly in place. A few minutes later, a Bentley silently pulled up to the curb. I ran, sniffling, and threw myself into my father’s arms. He picked me up, murmuring words of comfort, as a team of his employees and several police officers exited the cars behind him. They moved with swift, professional efficiency. The kidnappers from the van and Asher were taken into custody together. My father’s team was fast; it didn’t take them long to determine that Asher had no connection to the professional kidnappers. He looked, for all intents and purposes, like an innocent bystander swept up in the mess. Of course, I knew that. But he had still tried to kill me, and I had no intention of letting him go. I tilted my head, feigning confusion. “But… I heard him say he knew I was allergic to grapes. He said he made the ice cream just for me, with grape juice. He was going to take me away when I couldn’t breathe…” My father looked down at me, his voice gentle. “Vivian, are you telling me the truth?” I nodded, my eyes wide. “Yes. Being allergic is scary. It makes it hard to breathe, and everything gets itchy. I don’t want to be itchy.” My father’s face turned to stone. He gave a sharp nod to his head of security. Moments later, the report came back. The entire cooler of ice cream Asher was carrying was made from 100% concentrated grape juice. With the evidence irrefutable, the police took Asher and the kidnappers away. My father took me home. My mother was beside herself with worry and made all my favorite foods to soothe me. That night, she sat by my bed, reading me a story. As I drifted off to sleep, the ghostly text appeared again. 【This little monster is sleeping peacefully while our Male Lead is locked in solitary at the group home.】 【He’ll be fine. He’s the hero, he’ll prove his innocence. But if it wasn’t for this girl, he would have been the one being welcomed by a rich family today.】 【Don’t worry. The plot dictates that if she escapes death once, she won’t escape it a second time. She’s on a deadline. Ooh, look, the Female Lead is sneaking him food. Two little broken souls comforting each other. I ship it.】 【Exactly. The wheel of fortune turns. The Lancaster family’s wealth will belong to the Male Lead eventually. They’ll regret what they did today when he has them begging for mercy.】 I was too tired to care about their fantasies. I rolled over and fell asleep to the soft sound of my mother’s voice. 2. I was woken by the chatter of the feed. I climbed out of bed and went to the bathroom. My parents had already left for the group home to finalize the adoption of my father’s old army buddy’s daughter. A few weeks ago, his friend had been targeted in a corporate reprisal. His entire family was killed in an explosion, except for his young daughter, who had been at school. My parents, with my blessing, had decided to take her in. 【Is Vivian dead yet?】 A new wave of identical messages floated past my eyes. Ever since my “close call,” this had become their daily ritual, a morbid check-in on my mortality. I ignored them, finished my breakfast, and put on a pretty dress. I went downstairs to wait by the door for my parents to arrive with my new sister. Before long, I heard a car pull into the driveway. My parents walked in, holding the hand of a small, delicate-looking girl. “Vivian, this is Luna,” my mother said with a warm smile. “Say hello to your new sister.” I opened my mouth to greet her, but the feed exploded. 【There she is! So pretty! She’s going to be a knockout when she grows up. Finally, something nice to look at after staring at that ugly side character.】 【So the Female Lead is the daughter of Vivian’s dad’s army buddy?】 【No, the real daughter is also named Luna. The Male Lead knew the Lancasters were coming today, so he beat up the real Luna and locked her in a closet. To be safe, he even scratched off her distinctive birthmark. The director and the parents don’t know what the real one looks like, so when they came to adopt, our Luna was the only one there.】 【I love it! Our dark, tortured hero, doing anything for his little ray of sunshine. It’s an honor for the other Luna to be a stepping stone for their love story!】 【Honor? She bit him. She deserves the abusive husband she’s fated to marry.】 I slowly retracted the hand I’d extended. “Mom, Dad… she’s not Mr. Henderson’s daughter.” “Darling, what are you talking about?” my mother chided gently, but I could see a flicker of doubt in their eyes as they looked at the girl. Luna’s eyes immediately filled with tears. “Is… is Vivian-sister unhappy with me? I can go back to the group home, Uncle and Auntie. I don’t mind if I don’t get enough to eat, or if I get locked in the closet. I don’t want to be a bother.”

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Everyone in New York said Seraphina Blackwood was a rose armed with thorns, and that I was the only one for whom she’d ever retracted them. What they didn’t know was that being Seraphina’s husband meant accepting her harem. It meant becoming numb as she brought home man after man. It meant watching her fall for a charismatic new house manager, Leo, who then set about making rules for the entire Blackwood estate. He didn’t just cancel my credit cards, throw out my clothes, and take my car keys. He instituted a ten-dollar daily allowance for me and an 8 PM curfew. Even when the hospital called with a critical alert at 8:01 PM, he had the security guards block my path. “My mother is having a heart attack,” I explained, my voice tight with a patience I didn’t feel. “I have to get to the hospital. Now.” Leo was unmoved. “House rules, Ethan. No one leaves after eight. Not even if your mother is dying.” I trembled with a rage so profound it felt like a fever. I spun around, found Seraphina, and begged her to let me go. She regarded me with a cool indifference. “As long as you’re my husband, you can’t break Leo’s rules.” Staring at the woman I had loved for ten years, I felt like I was looking at a stranger. If that was the case, then this was a title I was more than ready to surrender. 1 The front door was a wall of impassive bodies in black suits. My legs felt weak, my hands shaking as I dialed the hospital’s number again. “Please, just start treatment. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” “But sir…” Before I could hear the rest, a hand slapped the phone from my grasp. It clattered across the marble floor. “House rules,” Leo chirped. “No shouting in the residence.” The phone lay shattered, its screen a spiderweb of blackness. I scooped up the dead pieces, my vision blurring with helpless tears. “Who are you putting on that long face for?” Leo pouted, turning as if to leave. “Is it because you’re not happy with my rules? If your husband doesn’t want me here, Seraphina, I can just go.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Seraphina murmured. She hooked an arm around his neck, planting soft kisses on his cheek. “My darling manager, who in this house would dare disobey you?” Her voice dropped, turning icy as her fingers clamped onto my chin, forcing my head up. “Ethan. Smile.” My mother’s face flashed in my mind. I couldn’t afford to provoke her. I stretched my lips into a grimace that felt more like a sob. “My mom is in critical condition, Seraphina. Please, just let me go see her.” My voice cracked. “She was in that car accident last year trying to protect you. You can’t just let her…” For a moment, something shifted in her eyes. A flicker of guilt. She looked at Leo, her tone careful. “My love, maybe just this once?” “No.” Leo twisted out of her embrace, crossing his arms as he plopped onto the sofa. “It’s a heart attack, not a death sentence. You’re overreacting.” He glared at her. “You promised me when you brought me here that everyone in this house would listen to me. Everyone.” His voice rose to a childish whine. “If you let him get away with this, you’re not sleeping in my bed tonight.” “Alright, alright.” Seraphina shook her head, a sigh of exasperated affection on her lips. She walked over and sat right on his lap, tickling his sides. Leo erupted in giggles, his eyes, full of triumphant malice, locking with mine over her shoulder. Bringing his lover into our home, allowing him to grind my dignity into the dust. I’d lost count of how many times I’d endured scenes like this. I could feel the pitying stares of the household staff, a wave of desperate powerlessness washing over me. I clenched my fists, the nails digging into my palms. I found my voice, and it was steadier than I expected. “Seraphina,” I said. “Let’s get a divorce.” If I wasn’t her husband, I could walk out that door. 2 The atmosphere in the living room dropped twenty degrees. You could hear a pin drop. Seraphina’s expression turned to ice. A cruel smirk touched her lips. “Are you kidding me, Ethan? You’re threatening me with a divorce?” Her voice was low, dangerous. “Where was all this backbone when your father was on his deathbed, begging my family to take you in?” An invisible hand seemed to close around my throat, squeezing the air from my lungs. The memories flooded back, sharp and unwelcome. My father was the Blackwoods’ driver. Ten years ago, when Seraphina’s father was ambushed, my dad took the bullet meant for him. Lying in a hospital bed, Mr. Blackwood asked him what he wanted. Anything. My father’s voice was a faint whisper. “Just… promise my son will always have a place… a home.” Back then, Seraphina and I were inseparable, childhood sweethearts. When she heard my dad had passed, she’d held me while I cried, her own tears soaking my shirt. “Don’t worry, Ethan,” she’d vowed. “I’ll take care of you for the rest of our lives. As long as I’m here, no one will ever hurt you.” Promises, scattered like ashes on the wind. Seraphina, you’re the one hurting me the most. Watching her coo at the man in her lap, I felt a pain so sharp it was like a physical blow. I forced down the acidic burn of grief in my throat. When I remained silent, she stroked my hair as if I were a pet. “Until the papers are signed, you’re my husband. And that’s that.” I knew what that meant. As long as she refused, no lawyer in New York would dare process our divorce. There was only one way. I braced myself and made a run for the door. Crack. The sting of the slap exploded across my cheek, my head snapping to the side. “I told you,” Leo said, his voice sing-song, as his men intercepted me. “No one breaks the rules.” Seeing his smug, triumphant face, something inside me finally broke. I lunged, grabbing the collar of his silk shirt. “Who the hell do you think you are? If anything happens to my mother, I swear to God I will end you.” I tightened my grip on his throat, but before I could do anything more, a brutal kick from Seraphina sent me flying. My head slammed against the corner of the coffee table. Pain bloomed behind my eyes, and the world tilted, threatening to go black. “Take him to the wine cellar,” Seraphina’s voice echoed from a great distance. “Let him think about what he’s done.” Hands dragged me like a sack of garbage down the stairs and threw me into the cold, damp dark. No matter how hard I pounded on the heavy oak door, no one answered. I slid down to the floor, defeated. The image of my mother, frail and struggling for breath in a hospital bed, finally shattered my control. The sobs came, ragged and torn from my chest. Knock, knock, knock. A soft tapping at the door. Through the small, barred window, a hand appeared. “Mr. Ethan,” a gentle voice whispered. “You must eat something.” It was Maria, our housekeeper. She’d known me since I was a boy, loved me like her own son. “Maria, please,” I begged, my voice hoarse. “You have to let me out. I have to get to the hospital.” “Sir, I can’t,” she whispered back, her voice thick with regret. She pulled up her sleeve, and even in the dim light, I could see the faint, crisscrossing lines of old scars on her arm. A warning. “…Thank you,” I choked out. I wouldn’t put her in jeopardy. I slumped back to the floor, staring at the dry roll and bottle of water she’d left. Ever since Leo arrived, my food budget was ten dollars a day. This had become my staple meal. Meanwhile, he had Seraphina taking him to Michelin-star restaurants every night. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. The husband of New York’s wealthiest woman, living worse than a stray dog on the street. 3 I didn’t sleep. The moment they let me out the next morning, I raced to the hospital, my mind a frantic blur of anxiety. My mother was lying in bed, her breathing shallow and labored. Tears streamed down my face as I stumbled to her side, taking her hand. “Mom, I’m here. I’m so sorry.” “Mr. Hayes, you’re finally here.” Her doctor entered the room, his expression grave. “We managed to stabilize her last night, but her condition has worsened. She needs surgery.” “Then do it! Whatever it takes!” The doctor sighed, shaking his head. “The funds in your account have been frozen. The hospital can’t proceed without payment. We need at least two hundred thousand dollars to begin.” The words hit me like a physical blow. The world went fuzzy at the edges. Seraphina had cut off my mother’s medical funding. All for this sick game with Leo. My mother tugged weakly at my sleeve, her eyes pleading. “Son, don’t… don’t go begging her for me.” I shook my head, my tears falling onto her hand. “You’re all I have left, Mom. I’m going to get you through this. I promise.” My vision was so blurred I didn’t see the tears welling in her own eyes, or the lingering, loving way she watched me as I ran from the room. I burst back into the house to find Seraphina coaxing Leo to eat his breakfast. The table was a decadent battlefield of food. Freshly squeezed juices, artisanal breads, soy milk for him, an entire filet mignon with a side of caviar. The stark contrast, the image of my dying mother, sent a surge of pure rage through me. “Seraphina!” I stormed toward them. “Why did you stop my mother’s medical payments?” She looked up, genuinely surprised. “What are you talking about? I never…” “I did,” Leo said, wiping his mouth with a linen napkin. He looked at me, his eyes dripping with arrogance. “Your daily discretionary spending is ten dollars, Ethan. If your mother needs medical care, perhaps you should go out and earn the money yourself.” I was shaking. I turned to Seraphina, my voice a strangled whisper. “You’re just going to let him do this?” “Leo…” she began, a hint of protest in her voice. “Maybe…” He cut her off before she could finish. “Are you going to coddle him again?” He shot to his feet, the chair screeching against the floor. “You promised me! You said the whole house listens to me now! If your husband can just override my rules whenever he wants, then what am I even doing here? I’m leaving!” Seraphina immediately grabbed his arm. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’m sorry. We’ll do it your way.” I stared at them, a chasm opening in my chest. This was the woman I had loved for a decade. My mother and I were nothing more than props in the game she played to appease her latest conquest. My eyes swept over the feast on the table. A wild, desperate laugh bubbled up from my throat. “You preach austerity to us, Leo, but look at you. If I’m not mistaken, that suit you’re wearing is a runway piece. It costs more than a car.” He sniffed, completely unbothered. “The rules are for the Blackwood family. I’m not a Blackwood.” “Do you have any idea how hard people work for a living? The water you drink, the food you waste in one meal, could feed a family for a month.” I saw the custom-tailored suit, the diamond pin on his lapel, and the rage boiled over. I lunged, my hands closing around his throat. The next thing I knew, my head snapped back, my cheek burning. Seraphina had hit me with all her strength, knocking me to the ground. She was already fussing over Leo, gently rubbing his neck where my fingers had been. She looked down at me, her face a mask of fury. “I told you, Ethan. No one is allowed to hurt Leo.” Leo, rubbing his neck theatrically, sneered. “You want money? Go earn it.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me out to the car. “Tonight,” he said with a malicious grin, “I’m giving you special permission to come home after eight.” 4 He took me to an exclusive lounge in SoHo, a playground for the city’s trust-fund kids. Seeing my pale, drawn face, Leo’s grin widened. “A little self-reliance will do you good. Go on. Pour some drinks, shine some shoes. You might earn a few tips.” He pushed me forward. “When you’ve got the two hundred grand, you can go save your mommy.” Before I could resist, his guards shoved me into the main hall. For my mother, I swallowed my pride. I knelt on the plush carpet, the humiliation a burning stone in my gut, and began shining shoes. A polished leather loafer tipped my chin up. A wad of hundred-dollar bills slapped against my already swelling cheek. “Well, well. Isn’t this Seraphina Blackwood’s husband? How the mighty have fallen.” “Pathetic. Can’t even keep his own wife interested. Guess you can put a crow in a palace, but it’s still just a crow.” “You guys haven’t seen her new boy toy. I heard last week she bought out an entire charity auction for him. Just to see him smile. Dropped ten million without blinking…” Every word was a poisoned dart, piercing my heart. My mother’s life wasn’t even worth a fraction of that to her. I moved numbly from one sneering heir to the next, my body aching, but the pile of bills grew with agonizing slowness. I was nowhere near two hundred thousand. Black spots danced in my vision. I was about to pass out. Then, a familiar pair of designer shoes stopped in front of me. “Still working hard for your dying mom?” Leo crouched down, patting my cheek condescendingly. “You know, you’ve been such a good sport, I think I’ll put on a little show for you. I think you’ll really like it.” I didn’t understand. He produced a small, ornate box. He opened it, took a pinch of grayish-white powder, and tossed it into the air. “We’ll call this one… ‘Confetti.’” A cold, terrible premonition crawled up my spine. I clutched my chest, a dull ache starting to throb there. “Leo… what is that?” He feigned a gasp, his eyes dancing with mirth. “Oh, my. I thought you two were so close. Don’t you even recognize your own mother’s ashes?” He laughed. “So pretty, isn’t it? Like fireworks.” He grabbed another handful and blew it into my face. The fine dust filled my lungs, and I broke into a violent coughing fit. “You should thank me,” he cooed. “I’ve arranged a little mother-son reunion for you.” My world narrowed to a single point of roaring terror. I fumbled for my phone, my fingers clumsy and shaking, and dialed the hospital. Every ring felt like an eternity. My vision swam with tears, blurring everything into meaningless shapes. When someone finally answered, my voice was a broken, unrecognizable thing. “The doctor… my mother… where is she?” There was a pause on the other end. “Mr. Hayes? Your mother was cremated this morning.” The voice was hesitant, professional. “She passed away last night from cardiac arrest. We tried calling you and Ms. Blackwood, but no one answered. Finally, Ms. Blackwood’s personal assistant took the call.” The voice continued, but I could barely hear it over the blood rushing in my ears. “He told us to proceed with the cremation as quickly as possible.” I stared at the box in Leo’s hand, a wave of nausea and grief so immense it threatened to drown me. A metallic taste filled my mouth. That box… it was really my mother. Leo met my gaze, his smile splitting his face. “You and your mother are both such fools. All I did was show her a little video of you on your knees, shining shoes for strangers. The old woman just… popped. Heart gave out right then and there.” He giggled. “Honestly, it’s better this way. You two can be together in hell.” “Leo,” I screamed, a sound torn from the deepest part of my soul. “I’M GOING TO KILL YOU!” The grief was a tidal wave, and I was lost in it. I launched myself at him, my fist connecting with his jaw in a satisfying crunch of bone. If what he said was true… I couldn’t even imagine my mother’s final moments, seeing that video, her heart breaking for me… “Seraphina, help! He’s trying to kill me!” Leo shrieked. A second later, a powerful kick sent me sprawling. I rolled, my head cracking against a table leg. The room spun violently. “Ethan, have you lost your mind?!” Seraphina’s voice, sharp with fury. 5 Seraphina helped Leo to his feet, cradling him as if he were a priceless treasure. When she turned to me, her face was twisted with disgust. “Leo was being kind. He came here to bring you the money for the hospital fees, and this is how you repay him?” The world went silent. Colors faded. All I could see was the small box, now lying on its side, half its precious contents spilled on the carpet. I stumbled toward it, my only thought to gather what was left. Before I could reach it, Seraphina’s foot shot out, kicking the box across the room. “What is this filthy thing?” Leo, feigning innocence, just shook his head. “I have no idea. Maybe it’s some trash he picked up off the street.” Seraphina’s eyes narrowed at me, her contempt a physical thing. “Look at you, Ethan. Do you have any idea how pathetic you look? You’re supposed to be the husband of the most powerful woman in this city.” As I watched, horrified, she walked over to the trash can and emptied the rest of the ashes into it. She then smashed the beautiful wooden box on the floor, where it splintered into a dozen pieces. The sound shattered the last piece of my heart. I fell to my knees, staring at her through a waterfall of tears. A laugh, ragged and broken, escaped my lips. “You say I don’t look like your husband?” My voice rose to a scream. “And you? Do you look anything like a wife? Like a daughter-in-law?” She looked momentarily stunned, shocked by my outburst. I scrambled on the floor, trying desperately to scoop up the scattered ashes. But my tears fell, mixing with the dust, turning it into a gray paste that stuck to my fingers. I couldn’t save her. “I’m sorry, Mom,” I wept. “I’m so, so sorry…” “Ethan.” Seraphina took a step toward me, a flicker of concern on her face. “GET AWAY FROM ME!” I shoved her back with all my strength. “I hate you! Don’t you dare touch me! I hate you!” She stumbled, her eyes wide with disbelief. “Seraphina, are you okay?” Leo rushed to her side. He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You see? He’s ungrateful! After everything the Blackwood family has given him! Without you, he’d be nothing!” “Nothing?” I cradled the splintered remains of the box, a crazed grin spreading across my face. A grin of pure, unadulterated despair. This life of constant fear, of being unable to even protect my own mother… I was done. I was so, so done. “What are you laughing at? You think I’m wrong?” Leo’s voice was shrill. “Fine. Let me show you what your life was supposed to be.” He yanked me to my feet. Seraphina, looking lost and confused, followed us out to the car. We drove for what felt like an hour, ending up on a desolate, forgotten street in the outer boroughs. The stench of garbage and urine filled the air. Men with hollow eyes and dirty clothes stared out from shadowy alleyways, their gazes hungry. “See that?” Leo sneered, shoving me out of the car. “This is where you belong. Without the Blackwoods, you’d be just like them.” He slammed the door. “You can stay here for three days. Get a real taste of what it’s like to earn a living.” Seraphina frowned. “Leo, this place… it’s too much.” “What, you feel sorry for your husband now?” he mocked. She sighed, her expression softening as she looked at me through the window. “Ethan. I’ll send someone to pick you up in three days.” I met her eyes, my own gaze cold and empty. “Seraphina. Promise me you won’t let anything happen to Maria.” She looked startled for a second, then nodded slowly. The Maybach sped away, leaving me in a cloud of dust. Before the dust even settled, the figures from the alley swarmed me, pushing me to the ground. They tore at my clothes, their hands grabbing for anything that might be valuable. Fists rained down on my face and body. My arms were pinned. I couldn’t move. I thought of my mother. Of her ashes in a trash can. And for the first time, I welcomed the darkness. I closed my eyes, and I gave up. A second later, a warm spray spattered across my face.

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I’d picked one of the two boys I’d grown up with. Waking up, I saw the comments scrolling across my vision, a strange, spectral feed only I could see. 【Guess the side piece is finally awake. The screen’s been black all night. So much for the male lead being pure, sigh.】 【It’s fine, you guys. The main character has high standards. She only wants a guy who can go for an hour, minimum. The male leads have to practice on the side piece to get their stamina up.】 【Both of them have been ‘practicing’ on her for ages. Damn, she’s eating well. Wish I could sub in!】 【Her name’s Lane? More like the fast lane.】 I processed that for a moment. Then I nudged the man sleeping beside me. “Hey. Are you bad in bed?” His eyes fluttered open. “You only lasted, like, twenty minutes last night.” 1 After the screen went black again, the words started flooding the feed. 【OMG, she’s good. Got him right back into bed with one sentence. Can I please get cast for a couple of episodes?!】 【Let her have her moment. She’s going to lose it when both male leads ditch her for the Siren. They’ll be falling all over themselves for the real main character.】 I kicked Caleb’s back lightly with my foot. “I’m wiped. Carry me to the shower.” He caught my ankle, his voice a low growl. “Lane. Did you get there?” In the bathroom, the sound of the shower eventually faded. Caleb walked out, a vaguely apologetic look on his face. “Hey, Lane, something came up. I can’t give you a ride today.” The feed laughed. 【’Something came up,’ LOL. He’s running off to worship at the altar of the Siren, obviously.】 【And the side piece thinks she’s irresistible. He’s just finishing his warmup before heading to the main event. In a bit, he’ll be holding the main character’s face, kissing her like she’s the only woman on earth.】 【Wait, hold up. Didn’t his hand just touch the side piece’s foot?】 【OMG DOES SHE HAVE ATHLETE’S FOOT?! AHHHHH!!!】 The feed was screaming. I paused, halfway through pulling on my dress, and offered him a placid smile. “Go ahead. I can get home on my own.” I didn’t get it. We were two adults scratching an itch. Why did the disembodied voices of the internet think I’d “lose it”? Standing alone in front of the hotel, a new model Porsche, the color of a stormy sky, purred to a stop in front of me. A refined, almost severe face looked out. “Why are you calling me at this hour?” I smiled at him. “Missed you, I guess.” The feed shrieked. 【HOLY SHIT, ISN’T THAT THE MAIN CHARACTER’S UNATTAINABLE CRUSH?! WHAT IS HE DOING HERE!!!】 What they didn’t know was that I didn’t have two childhood best friends. I had three. Besides the other two, there was the man now driving with quiet focus beside me. Every summer and winter break of my childhood was spent with him. The time we’d had together was no less than with the others. The feed was in a frenzy. 【The Siren’s one true obsession is Grant! Every time she gets near him, she’s completely captivated by his presence! Why does Grant even know Lane?!】 【I can’t. I just scrolled ahead in the spoilers—the Siren can see Grant’s stats and he’s a NINE. That number! A NINE! AHHHH!】 I studied him. His hands, with their long, elegant fingers, rested on the steering wheel. The top button of his dress shirt was fastened, giving him an air of impeccable, restrained class. He was staring straight ahead, yet the tips of his ears were slowly turning a deep red. Behind us, a chorus of impatient horns began to blare. He seemed not to hear them, turning his head to look at me. “What is it, Lane?” I asked him, “Are you… a nine?” He looked almost disappointed. He put the car in gear with a soft sigh of resignation. “Lane, I’m twenty-seven.” The air conditioning was blasting. I looked away, grasping for something to say. “You’re not at the office. Why button your shirt up all the way? It’s so formal.” The consequences of an all-nighter were catching up to me. I slept it off, waking up to find it was already three in the afternoon. My phone was blown up with messages from Rhys. 【Lane, you busy?】 【Silas just rolled out a new tasting menu. Everything’s flown in fresh. Want to go tonight? My treat.】 I didn’t reply. The feed was back. 【Stupid side piece. She has no idea she’s just a pawn in the main characters’ game. She actually thinks both guys are into her.】 【Too bad. The two male leads don’t even know they have the exact same idea: find a practice partner who’s safe and they know well, all to get ready for the main character.】 【Heehee, and when they find out they’ve both been ‘practicing’ with the side piece, that’s when they’ll finally team up to practice with the Siren!】 【OMG! Can we fast forward? I can’t wait!】 【Girl, your thirsty is showing!】 【Whatever! This is the part! The side piece goes to the restaurant and runs into the main characters. She’ll run off crying, and that’s when Rhys makes his move and they have their big ‘practice’ session!】 My fingers paused over the screen. My phone rang. Hearing Rhys’s gentle voice, I let out a soft breath. “Rhys, give me a minute.” “I just need to do my makeup, okay?” Have you ever felt the air in a room turn to ice? Rhys was peeling a prawn for me when they arrived. Caleb, with her. Caleb placed her handbag on the chair beside him, its metal clasp making a soft, expensive click. The next second, our eyes met. All four of us. The feed erupted in a dense wall of text. 【Oh damn, is the legendary pissing contest about to start?!】 【The Siren is here! The two male leads can’t even see the side piece. Stupid girl, still trying to compete with the main character for Caleb’s attention.】 【I just want to tell her to stop trying. The Siren’s allure is something no man can resist. God, this author writes such perfect wish-fulfillment. This setup is everything!】 My gaze landed on the ‘main character’s’ face. I was just curious. What made a species I’d only ever read about in novels different from a regular person? Stella’s skin was luminous. Under the soft restaurant lighting, it seemed to glow. The ends of her wavy hair cascaded over her pale shoulders, exuding an effortless sensuality. I had to hand it to her. A main character like this was, objectively, a masterpiece. Luckily, knowing I couldn’t compete on hardware, I had gone with a clean, no-makeup makeup look. Her eyes met mine, and in them was a faint flicker of hostility that only another woman would recognize. “Rhys, and this is—?” Before Rhys could answer, I widened my eyes innocently. “Oh, me? I’m basically the little sister he never had.” The feed exploded. 【HOLY MOTHER, WHAT IS SHE DOING?! I thought this was a showdown! What is this saccharine, fake-ass response? I’m gonna puke!】 【Seriously, does she actually think she’s pretty or something?!】 Beneath the scrolling text, I saw Stella’s expression freeze for a fraction of a second. Three beats later, she produced a gentle, warm smile. “Oh, a little sister. Rhys hardly ever mentions you…” She paused, her tone playful. “Keeping you a secret. We should punish you for that.” I didn’t take the bait. I turned to Caleb. “Caleb, honey, are you on a date with your new girlfriend?” At the two adjacent tables, every face, except for mine, was a mask of complex emotions. Caleb frowned. “Lane, you’re taking this too far.” Caleb’s response was strategically vague. He hadn’t confirmed his relationship with Stella, but he hadn’t confirmed mine, either. He was leaving all his options open. Even the feed was buzzing that, according to the plot, Rhys was supposed to use this opportunity to get me into bed, and then Caleb would come back later to smooth things over, explaining his words meant nothing. But here’s the thing. There is no childhood friend more considerate than me. As the waiter approached, I tapped the table. “Excuse me? Could you push our tables together?” I pointed at Rhys and smiled brightly. “He’s paying.” The table merger went off without a hitch. My two childhood friends immediately focused all their attention on Stella. When the abalone appetizer arrived, it was cut into two perfect halves. Both men offered their plates to her. Stella looked up, catching my eye. Every gesture was laced with charm. “Rhys and Caleb are so sweet. But I can’t possibly eat all of this. Little sister, you can have the extra one.” I tilted my head, looking at her. “The extra abalone? No, I’ll pass. Someone’s picking me up later to get something else to eat.” Caleb froze, his hand hovering in mid-air. “Lane, stop with the passive-aggressive act.” Rhys’s brow furrowed as well. “Lane, can you just drop it and eat your dinner?” 【Ooh, the two male leads defending their queen! So hot! They know they still need the side piece to practice on later, but when the Siren is around, everything else comes second!】 【*’Someone’s picking me up to get something else to eat’ ~*】 【Who is she kidding? Both of her guys are right here, and they won’t even give her a second glance for the Siren’s sake. She’s bluffing about being picked up. How is she gonna walk this back?】 【Get ready for the side piece’s most epic moment of public humiliation.】 I dabbed my lips with a napkin. I smiled sweetly back at Rhys. “I’m afraid I can’t. “The person picking me up? He’s here.”

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“I became the most hated woman on the internet after helping my daughter with her homework. It was the 99th time I’d broken down the elementary school math problem for Mia. And for the 99th time, she wrote down the wrong answer. “Is the answer 1, Mommy?” Seeing the same number she’d started with, something inside me finally snapped. I slammed the door to her room and walked away. I collapsed onto the sofa, desperate for a moment of peace, only to find my husband’s dirty socks balled up next to the cushions. After throwing his socks in the wash, I realized the laundry from yesterday was still sitting in the machine, damp and forgotten. By the time I’d hung the clothes, mopped the kitchen floor, and washed the dishes, I heard a crash from the living room. Mia had spilled her box of Goldfish crackers everywhere. The room was a disaster again. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I screamed at her. Shaking, I grabbed my phone, mindlessly scrolling to escape my own life, and stumbled upon a live stream. On the screen, a woman who looked like a ghost sat numbly at a dining table, mechanically shoveling food into her mouth. Her face was gaunt, her skin sallow and oily, and she wore a cheap, faded pajama set that looked like a $9.99 Amazon special. I froze. The woman on the screen looked terrifyingly familiar. She looked like me. I clicked on the stream. It was from a reality show called Fresh Start Family. And the woman in the video was being verbally crucified by hundreds of thousands of viewers. 【How can any woman let herself go like this? She looks like a zombie. It’s actually disgusting to watch.】 【I can’t imagine how her husband faces this every day. No wonder he signed them up for this show. He’s trying to save her from herself by forcing her to see the truth.】 【Did you see her this morning? She had a total meltdown because her daughter got ONE math problem wrong. What a monster. I feel suffocated just thinking about it!】 I looked up from my phone, my reflection catching in the dark screen of the TV. The woman in the live stream looked up at the same time, her face a mask of despair. It was me. I was the monster. 1 The comments kept coming, a relentless, hateful torrent. “Her daughter is ten. So she’s a little slow with math, who cares? Is that a reason to scream like a psycho? If you can’t handle it, hire a tutor. This whole ‘I sacrifice everything for my child’ act is pathetic.” It’s been ten years since I turned down a six-figure corporate job to become a stay-at-home mom. Now, I was a national spectacle, the crazy mother everyone loved to hate. Mia was in the fourth grade, but she still couldn’t grasp basic multiplication and division. I’d teach her, and five minutes later, the knowledge would vanish. Every homework session was a marathon of failures that left me utterly broken. Her teachers had started to whisper about sending her to a school for children with special needs. I couldn’t bear the thought of her growing up under that kind of stigma, so I doubled down, pushing her, pushing myself. She refused to go to a tutor. The mere suggestion sent her into a tantrum—sobbing, screaming, rolling on the floor. My husband, David, always gave in. “It’s okay, honey,” he’d say to me, his voice laced with patronizing pity. “You just need to be a little more patient. Spend a little more time with her.” I’d look around at the mountain of housework, the endless cycle of chores, and feel a profound exhaustion settle into my bones. Before I was married, I barely knew how to boil water. Now, I was a master of domestic drudgery. On top of that, Mia’s stubborn refusal to learn felt like a personal attack, a deliberate act of rebellion that sent my blood pressure soaring. David and I both had degrees from prestigious universities. How did we produce a child who seemed incapable of learning? At first, we thought it was a cognitive issue. We spent years shuttling her between specialists, our vacations spent in the sterile waiting rooms of pediatric neurologists. The answer was always the same: “Her cognitive development is perfectly normal. We can’t find a medical reason for her learning difficulties. We suggest seeing a child psychologist.” Therapists in our city were a luxury we couldn’t afford. Four hundred dollars an hour. A full month of my part-time salary barely covered five sessions. And they were useless. Mia would charm the therapists, derail the sessions, and convince them to tell her stories. After a while, David started to think I was the one with the problem. “What kind of mother has so little patience for her own daughter?” he’d demand. “So she’s a little slow! She’ll grow out of it. You’re the one who needs to see a shrink! Stop pressuring her!” The live stream audience, remembering my breakdown from that morning, piled on. “Why do women like this have kids? Is she just a masochist? Or too cheap to hire a tutor?” “Seriously, if you can’t teach a ten-year-old basic math, you have no business being a mother. Just die already.” “That poor little girl looks so scared of her. You can tell she’s trying her best! Can’t you show your child a little grace?” 2 Could she learn? Deep down, I already knew the answer. But I was her mother. My job was to protect her, to shield her from the world’s judgment. I told myself her defiance was just a phase, a childish quirk. I thought if I just loved her enough, taught her enough, I could fix it. I cleared my mind, pretending I hadn’t seen any of it. I shut off my phone and gently woke Mia. “No more homework this morning, sweetie. I already corrected it for you. Time to get ready for school. I toasted that chocolate croissant you like.” She nodded, meek as a lamb, while I dressed her. I packed her lunch, and for a fleeting moment, everything felt normal. Then I turned back around. She had taken a pen and scribbled all over the worksheet I had just corrected, changing the right answers back to the wrong ones. Her expression was blank, devoid of guilt. In fact, there was a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing on her lips. “Mommy,” she said, her voice dripping with fake innocence, “is this right? Can you teach me again? I don’t want the teacher and the other kids to be mad at me.” It was a performance. She was trying to provoke me, to turn me back into the desperate, screaming lunatic from the live stream. The teacher’s words about a special school echoed in my ears, and a high-pitched ringing started in my head. I had been up until midnight with her homework, only grabbing a few bites of a cold dinner after she was asleep. Then I was up again at 5:30 a.m. to start the day. The chronic sleep deprivation was shredding my nerves. I took a deep breath, fighting to control the rage building in my chest. “Mia, honey, I know you understand this. These are easy problems. Can we please just try to learn them?” I patiently explained it one more time, stopping just short of giving her the answer. She stared at me with those wide, clear eyes. “Like this?” She wrote down a 1. I felt the air leave my lungs. My chest heaved as blood rushed to my head. I wanted to slap her. The urge was so powerful, so visceral, that my hand twitched. But my education, my identity as a mother, as a rational adult, held me back. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms until they bled. Mia’s angelic smile never wavered. “Mommy, can you explain it again? I just don’t get it.” Her voice was like nails on a chalkboard, a trigger that made me physically ill. David, woken by our voices, stormed out of the bedroom. “What is wrong with you?” he bellowed, pointing at me. “Why can’t you do this one simple thing? Can’t you even handle your own child’s homework? What good are you?” Hearing her father yell at me, Mia’s eyes lit up with triumph. The corner of her mouth twitched upwards. A bomb went off in my head. She is doing this on purpose. The innocent eyes, paired with that fleeting, knowing smirk… it was a look of pure, calculated poison. I shouldn’t think this way about my own daughter, but in that moment, I felt like I had given birth to a monster. I lost control again. I was hyperventilating, but I couldn’t calm down. I sank to the floor, pulling at my own hair, a helpless, insane wreck muttering to myself. “Why? Why did I ever have you? Why are you my daughter?” Predictably, the live stream chat exploded. 【Her husband works so hard to support them, and he can’t even get a decent night’s sleep. This woman is human garbage. I’d hire a damn tutor.】 【Exactly. She’s the one with bad genes, and she blames her ten-year-old daughter. She’s a psycho.】 【Can they just cancel this episode? This woman is genuinely mentally ill. This isn’t entertaining, someone is going to get hurt.】 【Okay, but to be fair… 18 divided by 3 minus 4 is 2. She has explained it over a hundred times. I wouldn’t have that kind of patience either!】 3 Seeing me on the floor, David looked momentarily startled, maybe even scared. But then a flicker of something else crossed his face—satisfaction. He glanced up at the hidden camera in the corner of the room, pursed his lips, and said nothing. He was waiting. Waiting for me to have a complete public meltdown, to cement my role as the crazy one. In that instant, the expression on his face was identical to our daughter’s. He sighed dramatically, shook his head, and went to brush his teeth. He put on his suit without another word and walked out the door. I was left alone in the room with my wide-eyed, innocent daughter and my own shattered sanity. The audience was starting to notice. 【Wait… did the dad just walk out? He just left her like that? This is basically single parenting.】 But his defenders were quick to reply. 【He probably has to get to work. It’s hard enough providing for a family. You can’t expect him to do everything.】 【Besides, isn’t educating the kids the mom’s job? Men aren’t usually good at that stuff anyway.】 The argument sent the stream’s viewership soaring. The air in the room was cold. I looked at Mia, and she felt like a stranger. The sweet memories of her in the cradle, the first time she said “Mama,” were all fading, replaced by this cold, calculating child in front of me. Sensing the shift, she seemed to get nervous. She knew she needed me. She walked over, her face a perfect mask of sweetness. “Mommy,” she cooed. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” There it was. The angel. The one who only appeared when she wanted something from me. I had suspected for a long time that she was faking it. I’d seen her playing with a boy she liked, effortlessly showing off how smart she was. That was the first time I realized this wasn’t about inability; it was about power. When she was unhappy with me, when I denied her some new toy or treat, she would weaponize her own supposed stupidity. She knew it was my weak spot. And seeing me, the woman who prided herself on competence and control, become a fumbling, desperate mess in front of everyone… the look in her ten-year-old eyes was one of pure, punishing glee. I had tried to tell David. “Do you think… maybe she’s doing it on purpose?” His response was always the same wave of dismissive anger. “She’s a child, Sarah! What does she know? How can you be so cynical about your own daughter?” And so I became the paranoid, cruel mother who projected her own failures onto her innocent child. I stopped bringing it up. I checked my phone. The live stream comments, swayed by Mia’s apology, were turning on me again. 【See? What a sweet kid. She’s apologizing even though she can’t help being slow.】 【My heart breaks for this little angel. What is this mother’s problem?】 I stood up, went to the fridge, and chugged a bottle of cold water. When Mia saw my frown, her face hardened. “Mommy, are you ashamed of me? Because I’m stupid?” Normally, I would have rushed to reassure her, to smother her with affirmations of my love. This time, I said nothing. I just coldly packed her schoolbag. The sooner this was over, the better. They say a mother can’t be ashamed of her child. They’re wrong. I’m not just a housewife. I have a job. A part-time, remote job that I cling to as the last remnant of my former self. Sometimes, after a hellish morning, I’d log into a Zoom meeting and see the pitying looks from my colleagues. My hair a mess, dark circles under my eyes. What does marriage give a woman? Misery, humiliation, torture? I took her hand and walked her to the school bus stop. In the hallway, she was still wearing her angel face, but the look she gave me was ice-cold. She smiled, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, and whispered, as if commenting on the weather: “I wish you would just die.” 4 Her tone was so casual I thought I’d misheard. “What did you say, Mia?” Before she spoke, she glanced up, checking the hallway for the little red light of a camera. She knew. She had known about the live stream all along. The only one in the dark was me. After dropping her off, I went through my usual ritual: delivering small gifts to her teachers, thanking them for their patience. The head teacher, Mrs. Davis, pulled me aside. “Mrs. Miller, you really need to work with her. She’s ten years old. If she isn’t learning, she’s disrupting the class. This is a lapse in educational oversight at home. My teachers are not your private tutors.” I’d lost count of how many times I’d had this conversation. Shame and guilt washed over me, and I could only nod and apologize. In ten years of being Mia’s mother, I had lost every shred of my dignity. The woman I used to be—strong, confident, always put-together—was dead. The grief for that lost self hit me so hard I stumbled back to my car, got in the back seat, and sobbed. As I was crying, a paper fell out of my bag. Her latest report card. A sea of red F’s. The live stream viewership was low. No one wanted to watch a woman cry. 【Serves her right. She can’t even handle her own life. Who else is there to blame?】 【I don’t know… I feel kind of bad for her. The dad is useless. He just criticizes her and walks away.】 BING. An email notification popped up on my phone. It was from HR. A termination letter. The last piece of my old life, the career I had fought so hard to maintain, was gone. A profound, numbing despair spread through me. Each disaster was a stone, and they were all being thrown at me at once. I was losing everything. I truly was… a failure. Did I have to bury my entire life for a child who hated me? I cried for a solid half hour, huddled in the back of my car. And then, something shifted. The tears stopped. I was done. I would clear my name, in front of the whole world. This game my husband and daughter were playing, the game of driving me insane… it ends now.”

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My phone died. That’s how it started. My fiancée, Isabelle, was outside the car, her own phone now automatically connected to the Mercedes’ Bluetooth. She had no idea I could hear every word. “Did you pull it off?” It was her best friend, Chloe. Isabelle’s voice, crisp and clear through the car’s speakers, replied, “Barely. I made it to the airport just in time. He thinks I just got back from my business trip. He has no clue.” “You two have a wedding date set, Izzy. Are you seriously going to marry him?” “I don’t know,” Isabelle sighed, and I felt the air leave my lungs. “There’s a sense of… safety with Caleb. It’s solid. But it’s so damn boring. There’s no fire, no passion.” Chloe cackled. “Let me guess, the new boy toy is all fire? Lots of passion? Did you have a good time playing house?” “Oh, shut up,” Isabelle said, but there was no heat in it. “The wedding is in two weeks. I’m freaking out. I can’t live a life this predictable. But if I call it off, the damage to the company’s reputation… to my family’s… Chloe, what do I do?” “So, what you’re really asking is how to get Caleb out of the picture without taking the blame?” “I don’t know.” “Right,” Chloe said, her voice dripping with understanding. “You want your cake and you want to eat it, too. Got it. Give me a couple of days. I’ll come up with a plan.” “Okay. I’ll talk to you later.” The call ended. I watched her walk back toward the car, a vision of effortless elegance against the chaotic backdrop of the airport arrivals lane. 1 I had been waiting here, my heart thrumming with anticipation, only to have it shattered by a conversation I was never meant to hear. You don’t know how to choose? Fine. I’ll choose for you. Three years ago, Isabelle was negotiating a deal in Sonora when she was taken by a local cartel. Her father, a titan of industry, put out the word with a staggering reward: whoever could get his daughter back would have his blessing to marry her. I’d just gotten out of the service, my discharge papers still fresh. When I heard the news, I didn’t think about the money or the marriage. All I thought was: An American is in trouble. We don’t leave our own behind. I called in favors, assembled a small team of guys I’d trusted my life with overseas, and we went in. It was a hellish, razor’s-edge operation, but we brought her home. Maybe it was the way I kicked down the door to her cell, but something about me left an indelible mark on Isabelle. I never asked for the reward, but she started pursuing me. She was stunning, polished, and sharp as a tack. I didn’t stand a chance against her carefully orchestrated charm. I fell, and I fell hard. We started dating, but she never pushed for marriage, always saying her career came first. I didn’t push either, because my own family was a different kind of obstacle. They disapproved of the match, saw her as a socialite, and to this day, had refused to meet her. For three years, I worked on them, sending photos, telling stories of our life together, trying to bridge the gap. They finally relented, agreeing to meet her at a charity gala in three days. Today was supposed to be the triumphant first step. Instead, she’d just doused my world in ice water. Just as she reached for the passenger door handle, my phone, plugged into the console, flickered back to life. I had to end this, but I wanted to do it with some dignity, to give us both a clean break. The moment she sat down, my phone rang. A number without a name. But my memory, honed by years of training, is photographic. I’d seen this number on her phone before. It was her assistant, Leo. Her “boy toy.” What the hell was he calling me for? I answered. “Hey, Cal, I’m not feeling so hot. Can you swing by my place and give me a lift to the hospital?” Cal? At the office, I was officially Isabelle’s bodyguard and driver, but everyone knew the real story. Every employee, from the mailroom to the boardroom, called me Mr. Henderson, or Caleb if they were feeling bold. No one called me Cal. “Who the hell do you think you’re talking to?” I said, my voice low and tight. “I’m Ms. Ross’s assistant. You’re her driver. It’s your job. If my condition gets worse because you wouldn’t help, that’s on you.” “Leo? What’s wrong?” Isabelle’s voice was laced with genuine panic. “Oh, Ms. Ross, you’re there! Perfect. Can you tell Cal to come get me? I feel awful. Just… sick all over.” “Of course,” she said immediately. “Stay put, we’re on our way.” “Thanks,” he rasped, then hung up. “We need to go to Leo’s place, now,” she ordered. “‘Leo.’ Sounds cozy,” I said, the words tasting like acid. “He went to my alma mater. He feels like a little brother,” she explained, not meeting my eyes. “Don’t be jealous, Caleb. He’s sick. Let’s just go.” “Address.” She rattled it off without a moment’s hesitation. “I meant,” I said, turning to face her fully, “how do you know his address by heart?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Her brow furrowed. “I hired him myself. Of course I have his personal information on file.” “And did you hear him call me ‘Cal’?” “He doesn’t know who you are to me, officially.” “And that gives him the right to be a disrespectful little punk? To order your driver around?” “Caleb, are you going to do this right now?” she snapped. “He’s not feeling well, he obviously wasn’t thinking straight. Just drive the car.” I stared at her. The anxiety etched on her face, the deep well of worry in her eyes—it was a look I’d never once seen directed at me, not even when I was sick with a fever that could boil water. “Caleb, Leo’s an orphan,” she said, her tone softening, manipulative. “I just feel like he needs a little extra looking after. Don’t read into it.” She started digging through her purse. “Oh, look! I got you something on my trip. I know you were upset I missed your birthday, but this… Leo actually helped me pick it out. I know you’ll love it.” She handed me a small, elegantly wrapped box. I took it, my fingers numb, and without a word, I rolled down the window and tossed it onto the pavement. The lie about the trip, the casual mention of his involvement—it was all a suffocating poison. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she shrieked. “Get out of this car and pick that up. Right now. Immediately.” I didn’t move. “Fine! Don’t! Just drive to Leo’s.” I remained still, the engine humming softly beneath us. “Get out,” she seethed, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “This is my car. Get out.” “You’re right,” I said, pushing the door open. “You told me to get out.” I stepped onto the asphalt, saw the little gift box lying there, and brought my heel down on it. Twice. Isabelle slid into the driver’s seat, the window gliding up to seal me out. The tires squealed as she peeled away, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and shattered expectations. I knew, in that moment, that we were over. Truly over. I pulled out my phone and made a different call. “Terminate all partnerships and joint ventures with the Ross family. Effective immediately. Halt any projects currently in progress.” When I first got with Isabelle, my family cut me off financially to show their disapproval. But my time in the service hadn’t just left me with scars; it had forged a network, a brotherhood. Those connections became the foundation of a business empire I built from the ground up, quietly, in the shadows. It was the discovery of this empire—and their inability to control me through it—that had finally convinced my parents to meet Isabelle. For three years, I had secretly funneled resources and opportunities to her family’s company, propping them up, making them stronger. Not anymore. The pain, though, was real. A raw, hollow ache in my chest. I found a dimly lit bar, ordered a bottle of whiskey, and sat there in silence, the past three years playing out like a film reel in my head. After the service, I’d come back with wounds you couldn’t see. Being with Isabelle had been a balm, a way to quiet the ghosts. I had given her everything I had, every ounce of love and trust I could muster. “Love is giving without expecting anything in return,” a voice from my past once told me. “If you think of it that way, you can’t be angry when it’s not returned.” Thinking of her words now, the anger began to subside, replaced by a cold, clear resignation. I was setting Isabelle free. And I was starting my new life. Later that evening, my phone buzzed. It was her. The storm inside me had passed, so I answered, my voice calm. “Leo’s at the hospital. I’m staying with him tonight. I won’t be home.” “Fine.” I said only that and hung up. From now on, she could stay with him every night. In the hospital room, Isabelle felt a pang of unease. She had agonized over making that call. She knew she needed an excuse not to come home, but telling me she was staying with Leo was a risk. Her friend Chloe had called it “desensitization training,” a way to slowly make me accept his presence. So she’d steeled herself and made the call. My flat, unemotional “Fine” was not the reaction she’d expected. It left her feeling strangely empty. But she didn’t have time to dwell on it. Her phone began to ring, and it didn’t stop. One call after another. Suppliers, distributors, partners—all pulling out. The bank was calling in their loans. Her company was hemorrhaging. Leo was still whining about his phantom illness, but she barely heard him. She grabbed her coat and rushed back to the office, a sense of dread coiling in her stomach. The next morning, I went to the office. As Isabelle’s bodyguard, I had my own small office, a courtesy she’d insisted on. I was there to clear out my desk and type up my resignation. As I was writing, there was a knock on the door. “Come in.” Leo pushed the door open. “Caleb, man, I am so sorry. I didn’t know who you were. My behavior yesterday was way out of line.” His posture was deferential, but I saw the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. My eyes scanned him, and then I froze. He wasn’t dressed for an office. He was wearing a military dress uniform. My uniform. He stood unnaturally straight, and pinned to his chest was a medal. My medal. The one I earned with blood and grit. I looked closer. The uniform itself… it was mine. The one I brought back when I was discharged. The leather belt, with the faint scar where it once deflected a blade, a belt I treasured. The entire ensemble—the uniform, the medal, the belt—they were my history, my pride. Sacred. “Nice outfit,” I said, my voice dangerously soft. “Where’d you get it?” “Ms. Ross gave it to me,” he said, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. “She said I needed to project a more… commanding presence.” Leo was a pretty boy, the kind of guy who looked like he’d never seen a day of hardship in his life. The uniform hung on him like a costume, doing nothing to hide the soft, entitled core of the man wearing it. The anger I thought I’d buried came roaring back, hot and blinding. I looked at his smug face. “Take it off. And get out.” “Caleb, I don’t know what I did to offend you, but tell me. I can fix it.” “I said, take off my uniform, and get the hell out of my office.” He put on a wounded expression, slowly unbuttoning the jacket, but as he turned to leave, I saw his lips curl into a definitive, victorious smile. BAM. The door to my office flew open, crashing against the wall. Isabelle stood there, her face a mask of fury. “Caleb, you have gone too far.” “I’ve gone too far?” I shot back, my voice shaking with rage. “This uniform, this belt, this medal… do you have any idea what they mean to me? Did you forget?” “Honestly, who knows if they’re even real?” she retorted, her words like daggers. “I ran a background check on you. There’s no public record of you receiving any major commendations. For all I know, you made the whole hero thing up to impress me.” “And even if I did,” I roared, “even if it was all a lie, you knew how much I cherished them! Why would you give them to him?” “I gave them to him, so what? I can buy you new ones. I had no idea you were this petty and small-minded.” “Ms. Ross, please, don’t fight with him. It’s all my fault,” Leo simpered, stepping back into the room. He’d thrown on one of Isabelle’s blazers over his t-shirt. It looked ridiculous, but his eyes shone with the unmistakable glee of a winner. He looked at me. “Caleb, a psychic told me I have too much negative energy around me. I needed something with powerful, positive energy to ward it off. Ms. Ross was just trying to help. If I had known they were yours, I never would have accepted.” He continued, his voice dripping with false sincerity. “Look, I’ll resign right now. I don’t want to come between you and Ms. Ross.” “No one is resigning,” Isabelle snapped, her voice cold as ice. “Your value to this company is proven. It was a gift from me, your boss, and no one has the right to question it. I’ll buy you something even better.” She glared at me. “You humiliated him. You made him take off the clothes in front of everyone. I want you to go out there, into the main office, and apologize to Leo in front of the entire staff.” “Ms. Ross, really, it’s not necessary,” Leo demurred. “I should be the one to apologize.” “Stop acting,” I snarled. “Just get out of my sight.” If this had been a battlefield, Leo would have been the first casualty. Suddenly, Leo dropped to his knees in a theatrical display. “Caleb, I’m so, so sorry. Please, don’t call your old army buddies to come after me. I’ll leave the city. I’ll never come back, I swear.” “Caleb Henderson!” Isabelle’s voice was a whip crack. “I was so wrong about you. I can’t believe you’re this kind of man.” She rushed forward and helped Leo to his feet. “Don’t be afraid. I’m here. No one is going to hurt you.” As he stood behind her, shielded by her body, he shot me a triumphant, mocking look and discreetly flipped me the middle finger. The sight of them together, this pathetic tableau, filled me with a profound disgust. I stood up to leave. “Where do you think you’re going?” Isabelle demanded as I walked past them. “Apologize to Leo right now, or you’re fired.” “Fired?” I laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. I plucked the resignation letter from my desk and threw it in her face. “I quit.” She stared, stunned, as the single sheet of paper fluttered to the floor. “Wait,” she called out as I reached the door. “You’re just going to walk away like this?” “What else is there to do? Stay and watch you two make me sick?” “Nothing is going on between Leo and me! Watch your mouth!” she hissed, the anger returning, but her voice was low. She didn’t want a scene. “You’re only doing this because you know the company is in trouble, aren’t you? You think I can’t provide you with the lifestyle you want anymore, so you’re bailing.” I just laughed again. I didn’t bother to reply as I walked out into the main office. “What are you all looking at? Get back to work!” Isabelle shouted at the gawking employees. Downstairs, on the street, I stretched my arms wide, breathing in the city air. It tasted like freedom. “Hey, Cal. You lose.” Leo had followed me out. He stood there, puffed up with his victory. “You know, Izzy is incredible in bed. I never would have guessed the ice queen could be so wild. And now, that side of her belongs only to me.” He made a downward-pointing gesture with his little finger. “You’re this small.” He dangled a key fob in front of my face and pressed a button. The Mercedes I used to drive chirped in response. “The car, and the woman, are both mine now. As for you… why don’t you get on your knees and apologize? Oh, and take off that suit. That’s a company uniform. You’re not worthy of wearing it out of here.”

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“I was in love with my fiancée for years, but when it came time to seal the deal, I walked away. I let her go, handing her over to my adopted brother on a silver platter. I did it because I’d lived this life before. In the first one, I fought for her. I clawed and schemed and cheated to make sure my name was the one she chose. My brother, Leo, left for London with a broken heart, and I thought I had won. Thirty years later, my heart failed. My wife, Audrey, didn’t hesitate. She signed the papers, giving me hers. Everyone called us a model of devotion, a testament to true love. They envied me. They never saw her final letter. Three thousand words, and twenty-nine hundred of them were a tribute to Leo, the man she’d mourned since the day he died young. She had wanted to join him all along. For me, she left only a single sentence: “If you ever felt a shred of decency, Cole, do me one favor. In the next life, stay away from me.” The grief was a physical blow. The only woman I had ever wanted had never wanted me. And then I opened my eyes. I was back. Watching Audrey, poised to make her choice. So I tore the paper to shreds. “Don’t bother,” I said, my voice ringing through the silent, cavernous room. “You and Leo can have each other.” 1 My surrender stunned the glittering crowd of family friends and business partners my father had assembled. They all knew I was obsessed with Audrey Prescott. They’d all heard the stories: how, even after she was unofficially promised to Leo, the golden boy my parents adopted, I had debased myself. I’d begged, I’d pleaded, I’d knelt in the rain on the Prescott’s manicured lawn for three days straight, all for this one chance—a public declaration. “Is this you being noble, Cole? Or is it guilt?” Audrey’s voice was ice. She knelt, gathering the scraps of paper from the polished marble floor. She pieced them together, then held up the other, unopened envelope for everyone to see. “Both of them say ‘Cole Grayson,’” she announced, her eyes locking onto mine. “You were afraid of getting caught, weren’t you? That’s why you backed out.” In that instant, I knew. She remembered, too. She was reborn, just like me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips. I couldn’t even speak. Well, this simplified things. Let the star-crossed lovers have their reunion. Leo, a master of theatrics, rushed forward, feigning shock. He snatched the papers, his voice thick with false emotion. “Brother, I know Audrey was promised to you from birth. I’m not a true Grayson, I don’t deserve her. You didn’t have to do this, to stain the family name by cheating. I would have stepped aside. I’m stepping aside now!” If he’d truly meant that, we wouldn’t be standing here in the first place. But Audrey bought it completely. She gently wiped a tear from his cheek, her eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn’t seen in thirty years. A tenderness never once directed at me. “Don’t cry,” she whispered. “It was always going to be you.” I stood there, a clown in the presence of gods. The whispers started, sharp and cruel. “When they found Cole two years ago, I knew he was trouble. Look at him, no class at all. Trying to cheat his own brother out of a fiancée.” “My daughter told me he’s always forcing himself between them. He has no shame!” My father’s face was a thundercloud. He glared at me, the disappointment radiating from him in waves. He dismissed the guests with a clipped, “Family matter,” then dragged me into his study. The door had barely clicked shut before his hand cracked across my face. The sound was sharp, electric. I stumbled back, my cheek stinging. He kicked the back of my knee, forcing me to the floor. “You have disgraced me, Cole. You’ve shamed this entire family. After their wedding, you’re done. Get on a plane and don’t come back. Stay the hell away from Audrey and Leo.” He threw a one-way ticket to London on the desk in front of me. He couldn’t even look at me. My mother, standing by his side, just nodded. “You have our name, and our blood, but nothing else of us. Perhaps some time abroad will do you good.” I picked up the ticket. A hollow laugh echoed in my chest. They’d already planned my exile. In my first life, when Leo lost and flew to London in a rage, my parents had been devastated. They gave him half the company to “ease his suffering,” called him every day, and mourned him like a fallen prince when he died. When his casket was flown home, their hair turned white overnight. They were gone within a year. Now, they looked at me like I was something they’d scraped off their shoe. The difference between being loved and being tolerated is a chasm. Fine. In this life, I wouldn’t beg for scraps of affection. I would choose myself. I swallowed the bitterness and met my father’s gaze, a strange calm settling over me. “I’ll go. But I want what’s mine. My inheritance.” My father’s face hardened. I was a lost cause. “You insolent brat! Fine. You want your money? Then sign this.” He pulled a document from his desk. “A legal disavowal of all future claims on the Grayson estate. I’m not running a charity.” My mother touched his arm, murmuring for him to calm down, for me to just apologize. Instead, I took the pen, signed my name, and pressed my thumb onto the ink pad without hesitation. My father’s expression grew even colder. “The money will be in your account the day you leave.” He didn’t trust me not to take it and stay. A few hot tears splashed onto the paper. I wiped them away angrily, left the document on his mahogany desk, and walked out. Audrey and Leo were waiting in the hall. Leo put on a concerned face. “Cole, what’s that in your hand? I heard Dad yelling. This is all my fault. Let me go talk to them for you—” The same old act. If he wanted to help, he wouldn’t have waited until now. Audrey shot me a cool glance, then patted Leo’s hand. “Cole is their son. They won’t be too hard on him.” She turned to me, her voice dropping to a low, intense whisper. “I exposed you today to kill any lingering hope you might have. You can’t force happiness, Cole. Please, just stop chasing me.” Her words, so reminiscent of her final letter, sent a phantom pain through my chest. I just smiled faintly. “I will.” My simple agreement left her speechless. A dozen pre-rehearsed arguments died on her lips. Leo, ever the opportunist, slung an arm around my shoulder. “Come on, bro. Don’t be like that. The wedding’s in a week. We can still compete fairly until then! Name your terms, anything you want.” Audrey’s eyes narrowed. She pulled Leo behind her as if I were a threat. “Cole, I’m warning you, don’t repeat the past. No matter what tricks you pull, I will never marry you. Leo has been nothing but good to you. If you have any gratitude, you won’t do this to him.” There it was again. That familiar guilt trip from her letter. The irony was, I understood the lesson better than she ever could. I let out a short, sharp laugh. I clutched the plane ticket, my one tangible piece of this family’s love, and looked her dead in the eye. “Audrey, I will never bother you again,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “Or may I rot in hell.” If they all wanted Leo so badly, then fine. They could have him. I didn’t want any of them anymore. 2 I left Audrey and Leo standing there, stunned, and went to my room. It was in the back of the house, small and windowless. The only light came from a small desk lamp, perpetually on, illuminating a watch under a glass cloche. My gaze fell on the watch, and the memories flooded back. Five years ago. I was eighteen, a waiter at Leo’s extravagant college acceptance party. I’d bumped into Audrey, spilling soup all over her designer dress. But instead of anger, her eyes lit up with recognition. She dragged me in front of Robert and Eleanor Grayson. That’s how I found out the truth: my birth mother, a desperate woman, had switched me with their son to give him a life of luxury. The woman who raised me had beaten and starved me, pulling me out of school at sixteen to work and support her. When I first came to the Grayson estate, I was naive. I thought we could be a family. But I was a ghost. If I asked for a glass of water, the staff would look right through me until Leo gave a nod. I learned my place quickly. I learned to want nothing. A year later, on our shared nineteenth birthday, they threw a massive party. Everyone treated Leo as the sole heir. One mountain of gifts, one birthday boy. I stood in the corner, invisible, until Audrey found me. She pressed a small, wrapped box into my hand, her smile so bright it eclipsed everything else in the room. In that moment, she was an angel. And I was hopelessly, instantly lost. A single thought took root and became an obsession: Audrey was promised to me. That should be my life. The desperation grew like a weed, choking out everything else, and I began to fight Leo for every scrap of her attention. Her quiet permissions, her occasional gifts and kind words—I mistook it all for reciprocated love. But after I finally married her, she never smiled at me again. I told myself she felt guilty about Leo leaving. I tried to earn her love. I did her laundry, cooked her meals, drank myself sick at business dinners so she wouldn’t have to. I tended to her every need. She remained polite, distant, a beautiful piece of art in our cold house. I convinced myself this was what settled love looked like. Then came the end. Thirty years later, waking up from surgery with her heart beating in my chest. Waking up to her letter. That cool, reserved woman was capable of such fiery, passionate love. She could write poetry. Just not for me. She’d even denied me her ashes, requesting to be scattered at sea so the currents might carry her to him. The shock and grief were too much for my newly operated body. My system rejected her heart. I died choking on my own blood. I finally understood. You can’t force someone to love you. The only woman I ever wanted had never been mine at all. I reached out and switched off the small lamp. I lifted the glass cloche, took the watch, and dropped it into the trash can. I didn’t expect to see it again. But at dinner that night, Leo’s Samoyed, Lucky, trotted into the dining room with the watch dangling from his mouth, tail wagging. I gripped my fork. I knew what was coming. Leo feigned outrage, snatching the watch from the dog’s mouth and lightly tapping his head. “Lucky, no! This is my brother’s most prized possession! What are you doing? He’ll skin you alive for this!” To anyone listening, I sounded like a monster who’d abuse a dog. He continued his performance. “It was just a promotional gift, but my brother’s worn it for years. Don’t you know how important it is? You’re going to get me in so much trouble!” He held the slobber-covered watch out to me, his expression earnest. “Cole, I’m so sorry. Please, take it back.” A drop of dog saliva fell from the watch and landed in my bowl of soup. My parents, who knew I never let anyone touch the watch, broke their usual silence. “Cole, it was an accident. Leo didn’t mean it. Don’t make a scene.” But I wasn’t looking at them. I was looking at Audrey. “…A promotional gift?” Her eyes flickered away. She placed a piece of asparagus on Leo’s plate. “Don’t be dramatic, Leo. It wasn’t just a cheap giveaway. It came with the Patek Philippe I bought for you. It’s a genuine timepiece, worth a few thousand dollars.” A few thousand dollars. A footnote to his multi-million dollar masterpiece. It all clicked into place. She hadn’t bought a gift for me. She’d just handed off the freebie. And I, like an idiot, had treasured it, thinking someone in this cold, vast house actually saw me. My entire pursuit of her, my thirty-year devotion, it must have looked like a pathetic joke to them. I reached out and took the watch. Audrey, thinking the crisis was averted, managed a small smile. “The thought is what counts, Cole. I’ll get you the latest model next week—” I stood up. And in one smooth motion, I threw the watch across the room. Lucky, thinking it was a game, bounded after it, retrieved it, and brought it back, dropping it at my feet with an expectant whimper. I reached down and scratched the dog behind his ears. “Leo’s right,” I said, my voice calm and even. “It’s a cheap promotional gift. It’s perfect for a dog toy.” 3 Audrey stared at me, her composure cracking. An unreadable expression crossed her face—confusion, maybe even a flicker of hurt. Her cheeks flushed. Leo, seeing his plan to make me lose my temper had failed, switched tactics. His eyes instantly welled up with tears. “Brother, you said you weren’t mad, but you threw it away. If you’re that upset, just hit me. Get it out of your system!” A look of understanding dawned on Audrey’s face, and she seemed to relax, her certainty returning. “That’s enough, Cole. What is this, some kind of reverse psychology? No matter how you provoke Leo to get my attention, you will not be the one standing next to me at the altar.” My father slammed his hand on the table, convinced I was being a petty tyrant. “Cole, if you can’t behave, you can leave the table. Go to the safe room and think about what you’ve done.” The safe room was pitch black, soundproof. A concrete box in the basement. I lost all track of time, my throat raw with thirst, my stomach aching with hunger. Suddenly, the heavy door creaked open. A tactical flashlight beam hit my eyes, blinding me. “Being the blood son has its perks, doesn’t it?” a familiar voice mused, dripping with jealousy. “No matter how much I stir the pot, the worst you get is missing a meal. It’s just a slap on the wrist…” It was Leo. I sighed. “You’re wrong. They’ve already decided to send me to London after the wedding. They only see you as their son. You don’t have to do this. I’m not going to fight you for Audrey anymore.” He paused. “Really?” “I’m serious,” I said. “Check the top drawer of my dresser. The plane ticket is right there.” The silence stretched for a moment. He switched off the flashlight. I thought maybe, finally, this would be the end of it. Then he laughed, a low, cold sound. “You must think I’m an idiot, Cole. First you were the quiet little mouse, then you suddenly decided you were in love with my fiancée. You expect me to believe you’d just give her up?” He leaned in close, his voice a venomous whisper. “I don’t believe in luck, Cole. I believe in making my own.” He grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the room. I was weak from hunger, my legs unsteady. He pulled me toward the grand staircase. My eyes widened in alarm. “What are you doing?” A twisted smile played on his lips. “Guess how ugly your end is going to be?” I tried to pull away, but he was already in motion. With a final, conspiratorial glance, he let himself fall backward, tumbling down the long, winding staircase. He crashed into a massive porcelain vase at the bottom. The sound of shattering ceramic and his own theatrical screams echoed through the entire mansion. Lights flicked on everywhere. Audrey was the first one out of her room. She saw Leo crumpled on the floor and her face went pale. She flew down the stairs. “Leo! I’m taking you to the hospital!” In my first life, I’d been hit by a car saving her from walking into traffic. Lying in a pool of my own blood, I never saw that look of sheer terror on her face. Leo, knowing full well he was fine, clutched her dress, sobbing. “We can’t go. They’ll arrest Cole. Please, don’t blame him. I shouldn’t have gone to check on my tux… I wouldn’t have seen him sneaking out to cut it to pieces, and he wouldn’t have… he wouldn’t have pushed me.” He looked up at me, his eyes gleaming with malice. “Brother, I know you were mad about the watch, and I already said I was sorry. The wedding is next week… what am I going to do without a tuxedo?” Just then, a maid came running, her face white. “Mrs. Prescott-to-be, it’s true! Mr. Leo’s suit… it’s been shredded!” The frame was perfect. Audrey looked up at me, her lips a thin, hard line. The disappointment and shock in her eyes were a physical blow. I knew her better than anyone. When her gentle nature finally gave way to real anger, she could be ruthless. Her voice was cold steel. “Cole. Get down here and apologize to Leo. Now.” Before I could move, two of my father’s bodyguards grabbed me and hauled me down the stairs, my shins banging against the sharp edges of the steps. My head was finally clearing. I pointed to the corner of the ceiling. “Check the security cameras!” “How dare you!” My parents had appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces masks of fury. “Are you saying Leo is lying?” Audrey’s brow furrowed. She leaned in, her voice a low hiss in my ear. “Last time, you were the death of him, Cole. Are you going to torment him in this life, too? Don’t you feel the slightest bit of guilt? Apologize now, and I’ll put in a good word for you.” A lightning bolt of understanding struck me. I was the death of him? “What? No! He went abroad, he was reckless with money and made enemies! He got into a fight and was beaten to death—” CRACK! She slapped me, hard. The idea that I would slander his memory was too much for her. “There is a limit, Cole. He is the future son-in-law of the Prescott family. You will offer him a formal apology. Now.” The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. It all made sense now. In our first life, our relationship, which had been slowly warming, turned arctic the day we heard Leo was dead. She became a stranger in our home, moving through the rooms like a ghost, never speaking to me unless she had to. In her mind, I wasn’t just her husband. I was a jealous monster who had chased his own brother to his death. A wave of despair washed over me. I looked around. Every single person was staring at me with anger and condemnation. It took a long time to find my voice. When I did, it was a hoarse whisper. “You’re right. It was my fault. Is that what you want to hear?” My father snorted. “Lock him in the safe room. Double the bolts. No one gives him food. If anyone lets him out, they’re fired.” As the guards dragged me away, I heard Leo’s voice, deliberately loud. “Audrey, you’ve always been so kind to everyone. I think it gave him the wrong idea. Seeing you get angry for my sake… it must be breaking his heart, don’t you think?” There was a pause. Then Audrey’s voice, devoid of all emotion. “He brought this on himself. He doesn’t deserve my kindness.” I laughed, a dry, rattling sound in my throat. In my first life, everyone envied me for marrying such a gentle, kind, perfect wife. They never knew. She was kind to everyone in the world. Everyone but me. This time, I was locked away for what felt like an eternity. Delirious from hunger, I was barely conscious when the door finally opened. Someone kicked me. “The wedding is tomorrow. Leo is worried you’ll cause a scene. Get out, you menace. Get out now!” My fingers twitched. I’d been locked in here for five days. My father hauled me to my feet and shoved a suitcase into my arms. “Stop pretending. No one would dare actually hurt you. The money’s been wired.” He pushed me out the front door into the cold night air. The clock on the Bentley waiting for me read 2:00 AM. The world was silent. Just me, a suitcase, a car, and a driver. Just like the day I arrived, when they snuck me in quietly so Leo wouldn’t get upset. The car started, pulling away toward the airport. I asked the driver for the bag of crackers I saw on the passenger seat and ate them like a starving animal. Suddenly, the driver slammed on the brakes. The seatbelt bit into my chest, and I choked, the taste of blood in my mouth. I looked up. Caught in the high beams of an oncoming car was a tall, familiar silhouette. 4 The driver panicked. “Mrs. Prescott-to-be? What are you doing out here?” Audrey ignored him. She pulled her trench coat tighter and tapped on my window. I lowered it. She saw my gaunt face, the sharp angles of my cheekbones. She frowned, then reached out and brushed a crumb from the corner of my mouth. “Why do you always end up looking so pathetic?” Her voice was softer now. “I heard the car. Leo said you couldn’t handle the punishment and snuck out for a feast. Don’t worry, I won’t tell on you. Just come back quietly, and please, don’t ruin the wedding.” I was too tired to argue. I just nodded. She paused, then reached into her pocket and pulled out a watch. A Patek Philippe. It shimmered under the faint moonlight, worth millions. “Leo and I won’t be getting a marriage license. It’s just for show. I’ll convince him to find someone who truly loves him… Just give me three months, Cole. Three months, and I’ll come back.” I thought I was hallucinating. She pressed the watch into my hand, her gaze intense. “Cole, if you swear to leave Leo alone, to treat him with kindness, I’m willing to be with you. I’ll help you atone for the sins of our last life.” Her eyes, a pale, clear gray, looked almost merciful. And I finally, truly understood. She wanted it all. The tragic romance with her dead lover’s memory, and the steady, obsessive devotion of the man who survived. She wanted to absolve her guilt without giving up a thing. A dry, aching lump formed in my throat. I shook my head slowly. “Don’t worry. I won’t fight him…” She mistook this for agreement. A genuine, beautiful smile spread across her face, the same one I’d fallen in love with at that birthday party. “See, Cole? A few days of discipline and you’re much more obedient. It’s settled, then.” She waved as my car pulled away. “Go on, get your big meal. I’m going back to bed…” The car picked up speed. When her slender figure had completely vanished in the rearview mirror, I rolled down the window and threw the Patek Philippe into the darkness. … The next morning, the wedding went on as scheduled. The venue was packed. My seat at the family table was occupied by a distant cousin. In the bridal suite, Audrey kept checking the time, a knot of anxiety tightening in her stomach. She called my phone. “The number you have dialed has been switched off…” The robotic voice was cut off by Leo’s cheerful one as he entered the room. “My beautiful bride. Are you ready?” Audrey was distracted. “Cole isn’t back yet. The ceremony is about to start.” Leo’s eyes gleamed with triumph, but he put on a pained expression. “Well, maybe he doesn’t respect me enough to attend our wedding. If he doesn’t want to be here, we can’t force him…” But Audrey didn’t relent as he expected. Her brow furrowed. “No. That’s not possible. We had an agreement.” She gathered her skirts and went to find my parents. “Robert, Eleanor, Cole is missing. Have you called the driver? We need to find him.” My mother waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, don’t worry about him.” My father’s face was dark with contempt. “That useless screw-up? I put him on a plane to London last night. I wasn’t about to let him ruin your wedding and embarrass me further—” He was cut off by his assistant, who burst into the room, pale and sweating. “Mr. Grayson, sir, it’s terrible news. The flight… Mr. Cole’s flight… there was an accident. The plane went down.” “What did you say?” Audrey’s voice was a choked whisper, all the color draining from her face. The assistant wiped his brow and repeated, his voice trembling, “Mr. Cole’s flight last night… it went down over the Atlantic this morning at eight o’clock. The airline just confirmed…”

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