1 During the final week of summer break, I stayed at home, waiting for my parents to keep their promise of a graduation trip. They had promised to take me to the coast to make up for the family portrait they missed on my eighteenth birthday. But I waited until eight in the evening, only to see my sister’s social media update. In the photo, Dad was holding up the camera, Mom was adjusting her sunhat, and my brother Tyler was kneeling in the sand, building a sandcastle for her. Nolan, my childhood sweetheart, stood right behind her, shielding her from the ocean breeze with his jacket. The caption read: A little family escape to the coast. Family. I stared at those words, my hand trembling as the frame in my grip slipped. Inside was a family portrait I had drawn as a little girl. Five of us, holding hands. Back then, I foolishly believed that if I drew it carefully enough, I wouldn’t be left behind. When I called them, Mom’s voice sounded flustered for a second. “Nora, Zoe has been under so much pressure lately, so we took her out on a whim to clear her head.” Tyler snatched the phone, his voice dripping with annoyance. “Can you stop being such a buzzkill? It’s just a trip, it’s not like we’re abandoning you.” Nolan chimed in too. “Be good, babe. I’ll take you out by ourselves next time.” Next time. They always traded my this time for a promised next time. I looked down at the old drawing. The girl in the middle, me, was smiling like an idiot. But in reality, I didn’t even deserve to know their location. The frame shattered against the floor, glass scattering everywhere. In that moment, I finally understood. There was never any room for me in that picture anyway. … “Nora, what exactly is your problem?” On the other end of the line, Nolan’s voice carried a hint of annoyance at being interrupted. The sound of waves crashing against the shore was clear in the background, mixed with Zoe’s giggling. I squatted in front of the shattered glass, watching a bead of blood seep from my fingertip. “Nolan, what about my graduation trip?” The phone went quiet for a second. Then, my brother Tyler’s voice cut in. “Nora, can you stop being such a wet blanket every single time?” “Zoe did terribly on her high school placement exams. She’s been crying under her covers for days. What’s wrong with Mom and Dad bringing her to the beach to relax?” “You’re eighteen now. You’ve just finished high school and have nothing but free time. Can’t you show a little empathy for your sister’s stress?” I stared at the drawing sliced by the broken glass. The girl in the middle, smiling so happily, had her face completely split open. “I have free time because you told me we were going to the coast this week.” “I’ve been packing since the beginning of the month. I bought sunscreen, motion sickness pills, even Zoe’s favorite snacks.” “But when you guys left, you didn’t even knock on my door.” My voice was flat, devoid of emotion, as if I were stating a fact that had nothing to do with me. Tyler choked on his words, his tone turning even more irritated. “We left in a rush. We were afraid of waking you up, okay?” “Besides, why did you have to come anyway?” “If you came, Zoe would feel like we were playing favorites, and she wouldn’t be able to relax.” Playing favorites with me. I let out a dry laugh. During my senior year of high school, to create a quiet study environment for Zoe’s exams, I was kicked out of my room and forced to sleep in the drafty, unconditioned storage room for a whole year. When I was in middle school, to drop off and pick up Zoe from elementary school, I had to wake up an hour earlier than everyone else, riding my bike across half the city. Now, they were worried she’d think they favored me. “Mom, is Nora mad at me?” Zoe’s timid voice drifted through the receiver. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have said I wanted to see the ocean. I’ll buy a ticket back right now.” The other end of the phone instantly erupted into chaos. Mom coaxed her gently. “Zoe, sweetie, your sister isn’t mad. She’s the sensible one.” Nolan’s voice came back on the line. “Nora, did you hear that?” “Zoe is sensitive. Don’t trigger her right now.” “When we get back, I’ll bring you that seashell necklace you wanted, okay?” He was always like this, assuming that tossing me some cheap scrap of affection would make me swallow all my grievances. “No need,” I said softly. “What do you mean, no need?” Nolan frowned. “I don’t want the necklace.” Using my uninjured hand, I picked up the glass shards one by one and tossed them into the trash bin. “Have fun.” Before he could speak, I hung up. The living room fell back into a suffocating silence. The wall clock ticked away, pointing to nine in the evening. I walked into the bathroom and turned on the tap. Cold water washed over the cut on my finger, rinsing the faint red blood down the drain. I looked at myself in the mirror. My eyes weren’t red, and there were no tears. It turned out that when your heart completely dies, you can’t even cry. My phone buzzed on the sink. It was a notification from our family group chat, named “The Happy Family.” Mom had shared a video. In the video, Nolan was carrying Zoe on his back through the shallow water while Tyler splashed them from behind. Dad held the camera, laughing heartily. Mom sent a voice note. “Our Zoe is finally smiling. This trip was worth every penny.” No one asked if I had eaten dinner. No one remembered that today was supposed to be my college celebration dinner. I dried my hands and tapped the group settings. My finger hovered over the red button that read “Leave Group” for a brief second. Then, I pressed it. The next morning, I was awakened by a courier knocking on the door. I opened it to find a massive cardboard box. The recipient was Zoe. I dragged the box into the living room and saw the label. It was the latest model of a high-end digital piano. Zoe had wanted it for a long time, but our parents had always delayed buying it, saying it was too expensive. Looking at the box, I recalled how my three-year-old laptop had broken right before my final exams. I had begged Mom for a new one to do my research. Mom had said: “Nora, our expenses have been high lately. Just use your brother’s old hand-me-down laptop for now.” Now, a two-thousand-dollar digital piano was sitting in our living room. My phone lit up with a text from Nolan. “Nora, did Zoe’s piano arrive?” “Your parents bought it as a congratulatory gift. Unpack it and set it up in her bedroom.” “She’ll be thrilled when she gets back.” I stared at the words, my fingers turning cold. Nolan knew how badly I had wanted a new laptop. He also knew that to save up for one, I had stayed up late all through senior year helping other students compile study guides. Yet, he took it for granted that I should assemble this expensive gift for Zoe. I didn’t reply. I tossed the phone onto the sofa. I walked into my room and pulled out a twenty-four-inch suitcase. I began clearing out my room. In the closet, most of the clothes were faded from washing or cheap clearance items Mom had bought. I pulled them all out and stuffed them into heavy-duty black trash bags. In my desk drawer, there was a crafted wooden keepsake box. It was filled with things Nolan had given me over the years: the first plush toy he won for me, the study notes he stayed up all night writing for me in middle school, and a note he wrote in high school. “When Nora turns eighteen, I’ll take her to see the ocean.” I pulled out that note, staring at the slightly faded ink. Then, gripping the edges, I tore it to shreds. Along with the wooden box, I threw it all into the trash. Around noon, Nolan called. I answered and put it on speakerphone, continuing to clear my bookshelf. “Nora, did you check your phone?” His tone carried a hint of irritation. “Is the piano set up?” “No.” I tied a stack of old textbooks with some twine. “Why not?” Nolan’s voice dropped. “Are you still throwing a tantrum over yesterday?” “Nora, can you not be so petty? Zoe is your sister. You can’t even do this small thing for her?” I stood up, looking at the half-empty bookshelf. “It’s too heavy. I can’t lift it.” The other end went quiet. Nolan didn’t seem to expect such a flat, indifferent response. He let out a sigh, softening his voice slightly. “If it’s too heavy, why didn’t you ask the neighbors for help?” “By the way, go to my room, open the left drawer of my desk, and take a photo of the blue folder inside. I need it for an assignment.” He was always like this, completely used to ordering me around. “I’m not home,” I said calmly. “Where did you go?” His voice grew guarded. “Out.” “Nora!” He lost his patience entirely. “Why are you acting so selfish lately? You hesitate over every little favor.” “Do you think because you got into Silverlake University, you can suddenly walk all over everyone in this house?” Silverlake University. That was the college my parents forced me to apply to. Because it was close to home, making it convenient for me to continue taking care of Zoe while she was in high school. I looked down at the college admission guide in my hand. “I don’t think that.” “Then go home and take the photo!” Nolan ordered. “I’m hanging up. Zoe is calling me for seafood.” The line went dead again. I slipped my phone into my pocket, grabbed the trash bags, and walked out. The sun outside was blinding. I threw the trash into the bin downstairs and walked straight out of the neighborhood to a local secondhand shop. I sold my old tablet and several cherished art books. I got a hundred and fifty dollars. That money, combined with what I had saved up, was just enough for a train ticket three thousand miles away. For the next three days, my family was still enjoying their getaway. They seemed to have forgotten I existed entirely. My name never appeared in the family group chat, and I enjoyed the peace. I cleared my room of everything that belonged to me. What could be sold was sold, and what couldn’t was thrown away. In the end, only a single suitcase and a backpack remained. The room was completely bare. Even the sheets were washed, folded, and stacked neatly at the foot of the bed. It looked as if a girl named Nora had never lived there. On the afternoon of the fourth day, my college acceptance letter arrived. After signing for the package, I sat on the bare mattress and opened the envelope. On the deep blue cover, gold letters gleamed: Cascade University. This was the college I had secretly changed my application to, behind everyone’s back. Cascade was in the far north, three thousand miles away. No familiar faces, no biased parents. And no Nolan. I ran my fingers over my name on the letter, and for the first time in days, a smile touched my lips. Suddenly, my phone rang. My mother’s name flashed on the screen. I let it ring almost to the end before answering. “Nora, why did it take you so long to pick up?” Mom’s voice sounded cheerful. “I was sleeping.” “Sleeping in the middle of the day?” Mom grumbled before getting straight to the point. “By the way, didn’t you say you saved up three hundred dollars from your part-time job?” “Transfer it to my account.” My grip on the acceptance letter tightened. “Why do you need my money?” “Zoe wants a pearl necklace. It’s over five hundred dollars, and your dad and I didn’t bring enough cash.” “You’re starting at Silverlake soon anyway. You’ll be living and eating at home, so you won’t need money.” “Give it to us as a gift for your sister’s placement exams.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, leaving absolutely no room for discussion. I looked out the window at the blazing southern sun. “I spent it,” I said flatly. “Spent it?” Mom’s voice shrieked. “You stay at home all day, what could you possibly spend it on? Are you doing this on purpose?” “Nora, how did I raise such an ungrateful child?” “Your sister calls you ‘sis’ all day long, and you can’t even spare this bit of money for her?” My brother Tyler piped up in the background. “Mom, why bother arguing with her? She’s just jealous of Zoe.” “When we get back, cut off her college allowance. Let’s see if she still dares to hide money from us.” Listening to their accusations, I felt absolutely nothing. If this had been before, my eyes would have welled with tears as I tried to prove I wasn’t jealous, that I was their daughter too. But now, I just found it noisy. “I bought something,” I interrupted Mom’s tirade. “Bought what?” “A ticket.” Mom paused. “A ticket? What ticket?” “Nothing,” I replied, having no intention of explaining. Nolan’s voice came from nearby, as he took the phone from her. “Nora, cut it out.” “Your mom is only asking for a little cash. Who are you being passive-aggressive with?” “If you’re really that broke, I’ll give you the three hundred dollars back when we return, okay?” “Stop acting like the whole family is ganging up on you.” Ganging up. In their eyes, stripping me of everything to feed Zoe wasn’t bullying. My refusal to cooperate was the actual tantrum. “Okay,” I murmured. Nolan didn’t seem to expect me to agree so quickly, and his tone softened. “That’s more like it. We’re flying back tomorrow afternoon.” “Clean up the house. Zoe is exhausted and needs to rest when she gets back.” “And remember to set up the piano.” I looked at my empty bedroom. “Okay.” I hung up. I carefully packed the Cascade University acceptance letter into my backpack. Then, I raised the handle of my suitcase. The day of my departure was overcast. I dragged my suitcase to the door and took one last look at the home where I had lived for eighteen years. On the coffee table lay the last thing I had left behind. The torn family portrait, taped back together with clear tape. Beside it lay my house keys. I pulled the door shut, listening to the solid click of the lock. Without looking back, I walked toward the elevator. … At five in the afternoon, a taxi pulled up outside the building. Tyler was carrying bags of local souvenirs, while Mom held Zoe’s hand. Nolan walked behind them, holding a shopping bag containing a bracelet he had lazily picked up from the airport duty-free shop. “That ungrateful girl. She knew we were coming back today and didn’t even come down to help,” Mom complained as they walked. “Mom, you know how Nora is,” Zoe said, clinging to Mom’s arm. “She’s definitely still mad at us.” “She wouldn’t dare!” Tyler scoffed. “If she gives us attitude today, I’ll throw her out myself.” Nolan remained silent, but his brow was furrowed. For some reason, he had felt uneasy all day. At the door, Tyler pulled out his keys. “Nora, we’re back! Come grab these bags!” Tyler yelled into the apartment out of habit. The apartment was dead silent. There was no response. “Is she hiding in her room pretending to be deaf again?” Mom slipped off her shoes and angrily marched to my room, pushing the door open. “Nora, you—” Her voice cut off. Mom froze, her shopping bag slipping from her fingers and hitting the floor. “Mom, what is it?” Tyler walked over, following her gaze into the room. He froze too. The room was completely bare. No clothes, no books, no laptop. Even the sheets had been stripped, leaving only a blank mattress. There wasn’t even a trace of life in the air. Nolan shoved Tyler aside and ran into the room. He pulled open the closet. Empty. He yanked open the drawers. Empty. He spun around and ran to the living room, his eyes scanning the coffee table. There lay a set of keys and the taped-up family portrait. Nolan’s breathing turned shallow and rapid. He pulled out his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed my number. It rang for a long time before it was picked up. In the background, the noisy PA system of a train station echoed: “Attention passengers, train K128 bound for Cascade is now boarding…”

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1 On the day I was diagnosed with terminal stomach cancer, my husband, Marcus, and our seven-year-old son, Toby, were huddled in the emergency room, staring anxiously at Serena. She had cut her finger slicing fruit, requiring a mere two stitches, but the son I had carried for ten months was crying in heartbreak for her. I held my pathology report, standing in the freezing draft of the hallway, waiting in vain for Marcus to ask about my biopsy. Serena whimpered in pain, and Marcus immediately rushed to arrange a VIP private room. Our son shoved me away with irritation: “Mom, are you faking a stomach ache again to get attention?” “Just take a cab home. Don’t stand here blocking Aunt Serena’s rest!” Marcus caught sight of the paper in my hand and frowned in disgust. “It’s just a stomach bug. Was it really necessary to get a prescription?” But that was a surgical consent form for tumor removal, waiting for a family member’s signature. Watching them carefully guide Serena between them, a metallic taste rose in my throat. It wasn’t that they didn’t see my pale, pain-ridden face; they just found me redundant. If so, I would let them have their way. … Watching the three of them walk toward the elevator, I never ended up shouting that I had cancer. The gripping pain forced me to hunch over as I made my way to the oncology clinic. Dr. Reynolds looked at my pale face, his voice heavy with sympathy: “Mrs. Ward, you need to schedule a total gastrectomy immediately. Otherwise, you might have less than three months to live.” “Have your husband sign the papers. For a major surgery like this, the post-op chemo and care will require full-time family support.” I looked down at the words “poorly differentiated adenocarcinoma” on my pathology report. “No need, doctor. Please cancel the surgery.” The doctor gasped, trying to stop me: “You’re still so young. Even if not for yourself, think of your child!” At the mention of “child,” a bitter smile cracked on my face. My child had just pushed me out of the room because of a tiny, one-centimeter cut on another woman’s finger. I knew exactly what this disease meant. It was genetic; my grandmother and my father both withered away under this torture, taking their last painful breaths in hospital beds. Fighting cancer was a long, draining war of love and money. But I had no love left. In a home where my stomach cramps were mocked as a desperate cry for attention, who would ever care for me on my deathbed? As I walked out of the clinic, a couple of young nurses were gossiping excitedly near the desk. “That woman in the ER is so lucky!” “Just a tiny scratch on her finger, and her husband paid for the penthouse suite upstairs!” “I know, right? He even had his assistant deliver a fifty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace to cheer her up.” “Handsome, rich, and so devoted. It’s like a romance novel come to life.” I stood around the corner, my fingers tightening around the paper. A fifty-thousand-dollar diamond necklace just to soothe the shock of two stitches. Meanwhile, the paper in my hand that decided my life and death didn’t even deserve a second glance from him. When I stepped out of the hospital lobby, the rain had started to pour. The pain in my stomach grew sharper. I saw Marcus’s Maybach parked near the entrance. Tolerating the agony, I walked over, wanting to slip inside to escape the downpour. But Joe, the driver, stepped in front of the door with an awkward expression: “Mrs. Ward, you can’t get in.” I froze: “Why?” Joe avoided my gaze, stammering: “Mr. Ward ordered… Miss Serena wants some space, so he told you to find your own way back.” A luxury Maybach with a backseat spacious enough for two people to lie down, yet he was worried I would crowd Serena. Joe pulled a black umbrella from the trunk and offered it to me: “Mrs. Ward, please take this and find a cab down the street.” I stared at the umbrella, leaving it untouched. By the time I made it back to the suburban villa, my lips were blue from the cold, and my wet clothes clung to my shivering frame. Because of the late-stage cancer, I hadn’t been able to eat anything greasy for a long time. My stomach was completely empty, burning with acid. I forced myself to change into dry clothes, then went to the kitchen to cook a small pot of plain oatmeal. Just as I sat down at the table, the front door clicked open. Marcus walked in holding Toby’s hand, followed by Serena, whose hand was neatly wrapped in white gauze. They were laughing and talking. Marcus carried several elegant takeout containers bearing the logo of the city’s most exclusive private kitchen. “Serena, I had them slow-cook their premium bird’s nest and bone broth. You need to finish all of it to restore your strength,” Marcus said, his voice incredibly tender. Toby tugged at Serena’s hand dutifully: “Aunt Serena, I’ll make sure you drink every drop!” But when they walked into the dining area and saw me sitting there with my bowl of plain oatmeal, the smiles vanished from their faces. Marcus frowned at my simple meal, irritation flitting through his eyes. He didn’t ask how I had returned in the storm, nor did he ask if I had been caught in the rain. He simply pulled out a chair for Serena, helping her sit down. Then, he carefully opened the containers, gently blowing on a spoonful of hot broth to cool it for her. Just then, my phone buzzed on the table. It was a text from the hospital: [Mrs. Ward, your condition must not be delayed. Please bring a family member to confirm the surgical plan as soon as possible. Do not lose hope!] I stared at the word “hope,” then slowly raised my eyes to Marcus. He was leaning over, gently wiping a drop of soup from the corner of Serena’s mouth. His movements were incredibly soft. I gripped my porcelain spoon, testing the waters: “Marcus, my stomach is really hurting. Tomorrow, could you find some time to go to the hospital with me?” Perhaps some foolish, desperate hope still lingered in my heart. Even if it was one in ten thousand, I wanted to know if he would feel a single shred of pain if he knew I was dying. But before I could even finish my sentence, Marcus slammed the spoon against the bowl. “Diana, haven’t you played this game enough? If your stomach hurts, go drink some hot water!” “I have to take Serena to get her dressing changed tomorrow. I don’t have time for your childish tantrums.” Toby glared at me, chiming in: “Mom is the worst! She always lies to get attention!” Looking at their united front, my throat felt as though it were stuffed with wet cotton. I couldn’t make a sound. I quietly lowered my head, swallowing a spoonful of tasteless oatmeal. I didn’t speak again, because I already had my answer. That night, the temperature plummeted. I lay in bed, feeling the icy chill seeping straight into my bones. Unable to bear the cold, I got up and raised the central heating by two degrees. Just as I sat on the living room sofa to catch my breath, Serena walked out of her room holding an empty glass, complaining loudly: “Gosh, why is it suddenly so hot in here? I can barely breathe.” The master bedroom door opened instantly. Marcus walked straight to the thermostat, shut off the heat, and switched on the cool ventilation. Having done that, he turned around and glared at me. “Diana, you’re bundled up in a thick coat, so why are you turning up the heat? Don’t you know Serena can’t stand stuffy rooms?” Toby ran out in his little pajamas, standing beside Marcus like a loyal guard: “Mom did it on purpose! She wants to suffocate Aunt Serena!” My body trembled uncontrollably beneath my heavy coat. Seeing this, Serena immediately adopted a sweet, understanding tone: “Marcus, don’t blame Diana. Maybe she really is cold.” “I’ll be fine. I’ll just go back to my room. I don’t want to cause trouble between you two.” Marcus took her hand, his tone icy: “She’s doing it on purpose. Ignore her.” With that, they went back to their respective rooms. Serena didn’t forget to cast a smug glance in my direction before she closed her door. The next morning, I took a cab to the hospital alone to sign the non-treatment form. The doctor frowned when he saw me alone: “Mrs. Ward, a major decision like this requires a family member’s signature. Where is your husband?” I turned my head, looking through the glass doors of the lobby. Outside, Marcus and my son were squatting on the ground. Serena stood between them, holding her medical slip. Because her finger was bandaged, Marcus was patiently tying her left sneaker. And my son was clumsily but carefully tying her right shoe. Passersby watched them with admiration, whispering: “Look at how much her husband and son dote on her. She must be the luckiest woman alive.” During our four years in college, I had eaten cheap street food with him and lived in damp basements. When I was seven months pregnant, his company went through a severe cash flow crisis. I dragged my heavy belly to client dinners, taking the blows to keep his business afloat, and all he had said back then was a casual “thanks for the hard work.” It turned out he wasn’t blind, nor was he heartless; he just didn’t love me. I withdrew my gaze, my voice calmer than I expected. “I don’t have any family left.” I signed my name on the waiver form. Then, I picked up two bottles of prescription painkillers and left. After leaving the hospital, I went to Ward Enterprises. The company wouldn’t exist today without the effort I had put in alongside Marcus. I was a co-founder and the lead director of our core projects. Over the past few years, to care for Toby, I had gradually stepped back. The moment I walked into the office, several project managers rushed over. “Diana, thank goodness you’re here! Marcus hasn’t been in for two days, and we can’t reach him.” “The pricing for the Southside project must be finalized today. We have no idea what to do!” “Yes, Diana, the clients are pushing us. We need your direction!” They looked at me with hope, assuming I was there to save the day. But I simply unzipped my bag, pulled out my resignation letter, and handed it to the HR director who had hurried over. The entire office fell dead silent. The HR director stammered: “Diana… what is this? Does Marcus know?” “He doesn’t need to.” I scanned the faces of the employees who had fought alongside me for years, having no intention of hiding the truth. “I’m resigning. I have terminal stomach cancer, and there is no cure.” “From now on, direct all company matters to Marcus.” Without waiting for the gasps and shocked murmurs behind me, I walked out of the building that had consumed ten years of my life. The next day, before dawn, the villa was silent. I placed the divorce papers and the waiver of custody neatly on the center of the coffee table. Finally, I slid my wedding ring off my finger. After eight years of wearing it, a deep indentation remained on my skin, looking like a permanent shackle. I placed the ring right in the middle of the documents. Swallowing my third painkiller of the day, I pushed open the front door and walked into the morning mist without looking back. I took a cab to the airport and bought an expensive ticket to my quiet hometown. I wanted to spend my remaining days closer to where I came from. Sitting in the departure terminal, I pulled out my phone and blocked Marcus and everyone associated with him. “Excuse me, ma’am.” Before boarding, a gate agent walked up with a warm smile, handing me a pink carnation. “It’s your birthday today. This is a special gift from our airline. Happy birthday, and safe travels.” I stared at the pink flower, my throat tightening. Today was my birthday. I had completely forgotten. Marcus had forgotten, Toby had forgotten, and I had forgotten too. Carnations were my late mother’s favorite flowers. I looked down at the blooming petals, and tears splashed onto them without warning. I had been fighting so hard to remain strong. I had imagined, countless times, that if Marcus found out about my cancer, he would hold me and weep, and Toby would hold my hand, begging me not to leave. But the reality was that they simply didn’t care. Holding the flower close, I finally broke down in the crowded airport, weeping for my hollow marriage and for my own looming end. … Meanwhile, back at the villa. Marcus slept in late. When he finally walked down to the living room, he didn’t notice the papers on the table. Toby saw the messy sheets of paper blocking his way and shouted toward the kitchen: “Martha, throw these papers away! They’re getting in the way of my Legos!” The housekeeper walked over and swept the papers, along with the ring, straight into the trash. A week passed. It was as if I had vanished from the earth, but no one in the household noticed. With my absence, Serena had completely taken over as the lady of the house. On the eighth day, Ward Enterprises faced a sudden tax audit. Because I was listed as a co-founder and legal representative during the early days of registration, several critical tax documents required my signature. Sitting in his office, Marcus picked up his phone with irritation and dialed my number. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service…” Marcus frowned, assuming I had changed my number, and sent a harsh voice note over social media: “Diana, stop throwing tantrums and get back to the office to sign these papers!” The moment he pressed send, a red exclamation mark popped up. Marcus’s face darkened. Only then did he realize that I had been gone for an entire week. My clothes were still in the closet, but I was nowhere to be found. “What is she planning this time?” Furious, Marcus used his connections to track my whereabouts over the past week. Two hours later, his assistant placed the search results on his desk, trembling. “Mr. Ward… the credit cards haven’t been used, and there are no hotel bookings.” “We checked the security footage. The last place she visited before disappearing… was the city hospital.” “The hospital?” Marcus froze, then let out a cold laugh. He immediately drove to the hospital, marching straight into the clinic of my primary oncologist. “Where is Diana? She’s faking an illness to dodge her responsibilities. Does she think hiding here will save her from signing the documents?” The elderly doctor was writing a report and was startled by his intrusion. Once the doctor verified Marcus’s identity, his expression turned into one of deep disgust. “You’re looking for Diana? She has terminal stomach cancer. She refused surgery and could die at any moment!” “You’re her husband, and you had absolutely no idea?”

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1 Eight years as Strategy Director, demoted to front desk overnight. The entire company was waiting to see me break down, but honestly, leaving at six sharp was pure bliss. Until my brother got back from his business trip and caught me serving tea in the lobby. The files in his hand scattered all over the floor, and his wife’s face turned ghost white on the spot. … The day I was transferred to the front desk, the whole floor was sneaking glances as I packed my things. Eight years. I had spent eight whole years at this company, rising from a low-level marketing specialist to Strategy Director, step by grueling step. I managed over thirty people and brought in over a billion dollars in project value. And then, a single reassignment order shoved me down to the lobby. I recognized the signature on that paper: Vivian, the Chairman’s wife. When Gwen, the HR Manager, slammed the notice onto my desk, she couldn’t hide the smug triumph in her eyes. “Director Brooks… oh, my mistake. I guess it’s just Harper now,” she corrected herself with a fake smile. “Report to the lobby tomorrow morning. Pick up your receptionist uniform from HR.” I looked at the document and said nothing. The office went dead silent for a second. Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for my meltdown. Waiting for me to cry? To scream? To smash things? I folded the paper neatly and slipped it into my pocket. “Who do I see for the uniform?” Gwen blinked, thrown off. “…Toby in HR.” “Got it.” I stood up, picked up my favorite mug and succulent, and tossed a casual nod at the gossiping coworkers. “Show’s over, folks. Back to work.” As I stepped into the elevator, the room behind me exploded into whispers. “Is she serious? Demoted from Strategy Director to front desk?” “Who did she piss off?” “I heard the Chairman’s wife signed it herself…” “She’s completely finished.” Standing inside the elevator, I let out a genuine laugh. Not a bitter chuckle, but a real, amused laugh. Vivian had been married to my brother for three years, yet she still had no idea I was her sister-in-law. When I joined the company, I used my mother’s surname, Brooks. My brother, Gavin, was constantly traveling overseas for business, so no one ever connected Director Brooks with Chairman Ross. I never wanted to rely on my brother anyway. For eight years, every promotion was earned through my own sweat and late nights. But Vivian didn’t know that. All she saw was a young female director who seemed suspiciously close to her husband. When Gavin sent me a holiday bonus, she thought it was romantic. When Gavin looked over at me a second longer during the annual gala, she suspected an affair. Last month, before Gavin left for his business trip, he spent ten minutes in my office. To Vivian, that was the final straw. What did we actually talk about during those ten minutes? My brother was nagging me to eat on time and stop working late, sounding exactly like our mother. I almost kicked him out because he was being so annoying. In Vivian’s eyes, though, those ten minutes were hard proof of an affair. So, taking advantage of Gavin’s month-long trip to Scandinavia, she struck. With one signature, she dragged her husband’s alleged mistress down to the absolute bottom. I adjusted my collar in the elevator glass. Fine by me. Front desk it is. No unpaid overtime, no endless board meetings, no insane performance quotas. Out the door at six sharp. To be completely honest? After grinding my life away for eight years, I was more than ready to slack off. The next morning, when I walked into the lobby wearing the receptionist uniform, I could feel everyone’s eyes pinned on me. Some pitied me, some gloated, and others were just enjoying the free drama. The other receptionist, Ellie, a twenty-three-year-old fresh graduate, stared at me like she had just seen a ghost. “Are you… really Director Brooks?” “Not anymore,” I said, setting my potted succulent on the front desk. “Just call me Harper. We’re partners now.” Ellie stammered, “But… you were a director…” “Former director,” I corrected her, sinking into the receptionist chair. It was surprisingly plush, with perfect lumbar support. I leaned back, almost groaning in satisfaction. This chair was way better than the one in my old corner office. Ellie was still looking at me with deep sympathy. I pointed at the computer screen. “Is this visitor system complicated? Mind showing me the ropes?” Ten minutes later, I mastered the guest log. Twenty minutes later, I had conference room scheduling down. Thirty minutes later, I brewed a cup of my premium green tea, propped my phone on a stand, and booted up a TV show. Ellie watched the whole sequence with her jaw on the floor. At nine-thirty, Gwen walked downstairs holding a cup of coffee, casually slowing her pace as she passed the desk. She was doing it on purpose. “Oh, Harper. Settling in okay?” Her voice dripped with condescension. I didn’t even look up. “Great, actually. This chair is much comfier than my old one.” Gwen’s fake smile stiffened. She had been expecting tears or suppressed rage, not genuine, unbothered relaxation. “That’s good,” she said, her voice tight. “Feel free to ask Ellie if you get confused. After all, front desk work is… quite different from being a director.” Translation: No matter how hot stuff you used to be, now you’re just a glorified coffee gopher. I gave a lazy hum and kept watching my show. Gwen hovered for a few awkward seconds, realized she wasn’t getting a reaction, and strutted off. Ellie leaned over, whispering, “Harper… aren’t you even a little mad?” I pulled out an earbud. “Mad about what? I leave at six, I don’t have to stay up all night writing proposals, and I don’t have to drink with clients anymore. This is a hundred times better than being a director.” Ellie stared at me as if I had completely lost my mind. I didn’t bother explaining. My brother would be back next month. When he did, this circus would end on its own. Until then, I fully intended to enjoy my paid vacation. 2 Life at the front desk was even lazier than I imagined. My heaviest daily tasks consisted of logging visitors, routing phone calls, and stocking water bottles in meeting rooms. Back when I was director, I wished there were forty-eight hours in a day. Now? My daily routine looked like this: 9:00 AM: Clock in, brew tea. 9:30 AM: Watch an episode of my drama. 10:00 AM: Log a random visitor. 10:30 AM: Back to my drama. 12:00 PM: Lunch, followed by a cozy desk nap. 2:00 PM: Wake up, watch more TV. 6:00 PM: Clock out, head home to cook dinner. Perfection. Except this perfection shattered on the third day. Not because anyone came to bully me, but because way too many people came looking for help. At ten on Wednesday morning, Toby from admin skittered over to the front desk, nervously looking over both shoulders. “Harper…” I pulled off my headphones. “Yeah?” “Um… about that Crestview Properties proposal you handled last week? The new director, Derek, says he doesn’t understand the pitch strategy. He told me to ask you what the logic behind it was.” I raised an eyebrow. Derek, my replacement. Vivian’s personal hire. Word was he was poached from a competitor with an impressive resume, but three days in, his total incompetence was already showing. “The Crestview deal?” I thought for a moment. “Mr. Dalton prefers data presentation first, structural framework second, and execution details last. Step by step. Tell Derek to just stick to the PowerPoint template I left in the shared drive.” Toby looked like he had just found gold. “Thanks, Harper!” He scurried off. At two in the afternoon, Mark from marketing stopped by. “Harper, Beacon Group is pressing us for the Q3 co-branding strategy. Director Derek told us to figure it out ourselves, but Mr. Bennett from Beacon explicitly said he’ll only approve a plan written by you…” “Have Mr. Bennett add me on messaging. I’ll drop him an outline when I get a moment.” “Awesome!” At four in the afternoon, Laura from accounting showed up. “Harper, how did you negotiate the payment structure for Crestview? The terms Derek proposed were instantly rejected.” “It’s a milestone payout: thirty percent upfront, forty percent on approval, thirty percent final balance. They care about the payment window, not the percentages. Tell Derek to cut the term from sixty days to forty-five, and they’ll sign immediately.” Laura’s eyes lit up. “You really are a lifesaver.” By the fifth day, the front desk had transformed into an unofficial executive consulting clinic. A constant stream of people came by to grab water. Some genuinely needed business advice, while others just wanted to see how I was holding up, checking if I was truly broken. Ellie watched the whole scene in utter disbelief. “Harper, you’re busier down here than you were upstairs!” I sighed, taking a sip of tea, only to realize it had gone cold. “Honestly, I didn’t expect this either.” By the sixth day, things took a turn. At eleven in the morning, the elevator doors dinged open, and Gwen marched out with two admin assistants straight toward the front desk. The schadenfreude from earlier was gone, replaced by a deep, offended rage. “Harper.” She slammed a folder onto the counter. “Do you even know what your current job title is?” I looked at her calmly. “Receptionist.” “Right, receptionist!” She raised her voice, making sure every employee walking through the lobby could hear her. “And what are your responsibilities? Logging guests, answering phones, directing traffic. Who gave you permission to meddle in operational affairs?” Ellie shrank back in her seat. I leaned against my chair, watching Gwen. “I’m not meddling. They came to me with questions, and I offered a few quick answers.” “Quick answers?” Gwen sneered. “Director Derek already reported you. You’re pulling strings behind the scenes, rallying your old followers, and undermining his authority. Harper, do you really not understand your place here?” Several employees nearby slowed their steps. I saw someone pull out a phone, pretending to check messages while straining to listen. I didn’t budge. “Gwen, I’ve been sitting right here at this desk the whole time. Your people came down to ask me. If you think that’s my fault, go ahead and issue a company-wide memo banning everyone from talking to the front desk.” Gwen choked on her words. She took a sharp breath and slapped a sheet of paper in front of me. “Per Mrs. Ross’s instructions, your duties now include cleaning the executive lounge pantry on the twenty-sixth floor and restocking supplies daily.” Ellie gasped, covering her mouth. The twenty-sixth floor. The executive suite. Making a former Strategy Director scrub counters and serve tea to top executives. This wasn’t just a demotion. This was deliberate public humiliation. Gwen watched my face, her lips curling into a cruel smirk. She was waiting for me to break. I picked up the paper and glanced at it. There was Vivian’s signature at the bottom, extravagant and messy, identical to the demotion order. I folded the paper neatly and put it in my pocket. “What time?” Gwen blinked. “What?” “The lounge. What time do I restock? Is there a schedule?” “…Ten in the morning, three in the afternoon.” “Got it.” Gwen stood there, her smug expression slowly turning into confusion. She couldn’t fathom why I was so calm. What she didn’t know was very simple. My brother’s flight was landing next Tuesday. Six days left. I might as well treat those six days as a full-paid work environment study. After Gwen left, Ellie looked at me with reddened eyes. “Harper…” “Don’t cry,” I said, standing up to stretch my shoulders. “I’ve been to the twenty-sixth-floor lounge before. The snack cabinet is full of imported luxury chocolates. Back when I was director, I used to sneak them during meetings all the time.” Ellie was speechless. The way she looked at me had officially upgraded from viewing a chill lunatic to viewing a complete saint who had totally lost her mind. 3 The twenty-sixth-floor pantry was even more entertaining than I anticipated. Not because there was a lot of work, but because executives never censor themselves around service staff. They didn’t view the person cleaning the kitchen as a real human being. Or more accurately, they didn’t think service staff had ears. On my first day refilling tea supplies, I was pouring coffee beans into the machine when the VP’s office door slipped open an inch. Two voices floated out loud and clear. “…Derek can’t handle the load. Crestview just rejected his pitch for the third time. Mr. Dalton explicitly stated he won’t negotiate unless Harper is at the table.” “So what do we do? Mrs. Ross will never let Harper back up here.” “Should we report it to Mr. Ross?” “Are you insane? Mrs. Ross did this behind his back. If you blow the whistle now, how is the Chairman’s wife going to save face?” My hand paused on the sponge. So… people in management knew this whole demotion was sketchy. They were just too terrified of offending the Chairman’s wife to speak up. Makes sense. With my brother away, Vivian held the power. Who dared cross her? I silently finished wiping the counters, filled the hot water urns, and stocked the snack cabinet. Before leaving, I slipped two imported chocolates into my pocket. Perks of the job, funded by the very budget I had approved as director. On my way down, I ran into Derek in the elevator. The new Strategy Director. Mid-thirties, sharp suit, slicked-back hair, looking every bit the high-powered executive. When he saw me, his expression turned complicated. A mix of guilt and forced superiority. “Harper,” he nodded stiffly. “Director Derek,” I offered a polite smile. Three seconds of silence filled the elevator. He cleared his throat. “About the Crestview account… Mr. Dalton, the client you managed… what is his personality like?” I looked at him. The guy was asking me for work advice without a single “please” or hint of humility, acting as if I owed him an explanation. “Mr. Dalton likes rock tea,” I said. Derek frowned. “I asked about…” “Invite him for tea. Bring Rougui, not Dahongpao. He thinks Dahongpao is cliché. By the third steep, he will bring up business himself.” The elevator dinged on the ground floor. I walked out without looking back. Behind me, Derek stood frozen in the elevator car. He would never get it. Eight years of client trust, industry network, and hands-on experience couldn’t be transferred by a piece of paper. Vivian thought she could crush me and drop in a random replacement? How naive. By the third day, Derek’s situation was no longer looking bad. It was a total catastrophe. Crestview sent an official notice stating that if proper leadership wasn’t restored to the project within a week, they would terminate the partnership. How big was this deal? An annual strategic contract worth thirty million dollars. Fifteen percent of the company’s total annual revenue. The moment the letter arrived, the twenty-sixth floor called three emergency meetings. I knew this because every time a meeting ended, the pantry trash cans overflowed with crumpled draft papers and empty paper cups. They were panicking, yet not a single person came to talk to me. Not because they didn’t want to, but because they didn’t dare. Vivian had issued a strict warning: anyone caught consulting Harper would join her at the front desk. So everyone sat by, watching a thirty-million-dollar deal slip through their fingers. Whenever I passed the glass conference rooms to restock tea, I could feel their eyes burning into my back. It was a messy cocktail of guilt, desperation, and silent pleading: Please, just step up and offer to help! I acted completely blind. Why would I step up? I was humiliated, demoted, and publicly shamed, yet not one of them had spoken up for me. Now that everything was falling apart, they wanted me to clean up their mess? I held my water kettle, refilled the pots, wiped the counters, and clocked out at six sharp to cook pork rib soup at home.

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1 Bobby clawed his way from indie scraps to Best Actor. Onstage, spotlight blazing, the host asked what fueled his grind. He locked onto the camera, eyes heavy with practiced melancholy. “I wanted the girl I grew up with to see me,” he whispered. “To finally remember her way home.” The live chat erupted. Millions swooned over the tragic romance between the new screen king and his mysterious childhood sweetheart. Backstage in the shadows, I stood frozen. My blood turned to ice. I wasn’t that girl. We hadn’t grown up together. Yet here he was, spinning a grand televised lie—while I, his real girlfriend, had starved in a damp basement so he could eat, split three-dollar fried rice when we were broke, and choked down cold instant noodles just to keep him going. Soon, his childhood ballerina princess would return in triumph under his protection. And I would walk away, wrapped in the arms of a rising young star, never looking back. But it would be him on his knees then, bloodshot eyes pleading for me to stay. … #BobbyColeConfession #BobbyAndBallerinaGiselleAtPalaisGarnier #ChildhoodSweetheartsFairyTale #EmilyFontaineGetOut #TheRealQueenHasArrivedEmilyCantClingToOurKingAnymore I stared at the trending topics climbing the social media charts, a quiet, stinging ache spreading through my chest. He and Giselle were a fairy tale, a match made in heaven. So what did that make me? Oh, right. To the internet, I was just Emily Fontaine, the desperate, clout-chasing parasite who wouldn’t stop clinging to Bobby. I was the laughable, pathetic villain in their beautiful love story. My chest tightened as a wave of sharp pain washed over me. For years, I had kept my mouth shut to protect Bobby’s image as the eligible, single heartthrob. I had willingly shouldered every ounce of hate, vitriol, and mockery the internet could throw. Even though I was his legal, long-term partner, the public branded me a manipulative social climber who wouldn’t leave him alone. There were times when the cyberbullying became too cruel to bear, and I would break down crying in our quiet apartment. Bobby had seen me like that, curled into a ball on the bathroom floor. But he had never offered a public word of defense. He hadn’t even offered a simple hug. He never protected me. He only told me to be strong, leaving me to drown in the toxic sea of online hatred. And now, because of his grand, public declaration, that other woman had become the nation’s beloved muse. She was praised as his perfect match, his ultimate destiny. I scrolled through the endless flood of comments telling me to quit the industry, to crawl into a hole and die, and demanding that Bobby and Giselle get married on the spot. With trembling fingers, I dialed Bobby’s number. The call connected, but before I could draw a breath to speak, the line went dead. In those brief, hollow seconds before he hung up, the distinct, booming echo of an opera performance played in the background. I closed my eyes. I remembered the trending photos of them together at the Palais Garnier in Paris, enjoying a private box. So, it was true. They really were together. No wonder he had vanished into thin air the second the award ceremony ended. He had been in a hurry to fly across the world to her. Something warm and wet slipped down my cheek. I touched my face, surprised to find myself crying. What was I still hoping for? The man simply did not love me. He never had. 2 I ended up in the hospital. I was driven there by a panic attack, courtesy of Bobby and Giselle’s extreme shippers. Ever since his grand confession, the online harassment had reached a fever pitch. Gossip accounts had spliced an unedited, bare-faced paparazzi photo of me together with a highly polished, ethereal modeling poster of Giselle. The captions mocked me mercilessly, calling me a common toad trying to swallow a swan. Now that the real swan had returned, they said, I needed to clear the path and disappear. Then, some unhinged fan sent a box of dead, rotting frogs to my agency. The shock sent my system into a tailspin, and I collapsed. I stayed in the hospital for five days. During that entire time, I didn’t receive a single text or call from Bobby. I did, however, receive a bouquet of calla lilies. They were my favorite flowers. On the day I was discharged, the entertainment news announced that Bobby had finally landed back in the country. I looked at the calla lilies sitting on the bedside table and decided to give him one last chance. The phone rang for a long time before he finally picked up. Trying to keep my voice light and steady, I said, “Bobby, I’m getting discharged today. Can you come pick me up?” A long, heavy silence stretched over the line. “Emily, I’m really sorry,” he said, his voice flat and distant. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. You’ll have to find your own way back.” I stared at the schedule his assistant had secretly forwarded to me earlier. He didn’t have a single event scheduled for today. Nothing at all. I plucked a petal from a calla lily, my voice dropping to a quiet whisper. “What are you so busy with, Bobby?” The pause this time was even longer. He was probably surprised. I had never been this demanding before. For five years, I had been the perfect, understanding partner, never wanting to make things difficult for him, always putting his career first. Finally, he let out an irritated sigh. “Don’t start acting up, Emily.” And with that, he cut the line. He couldn’t even spare me another second. 3 The truth is, when a person stops loving you, it becomes glaringly obvious. During our first year together, when we were both nobodies, I had practically lived at networking events, drinking myself to the point of stomach bleeding just to pitch him to directors and secure him decent auditions. When he heard I had been hospitalized for internal bleeding, Bobby had practically lost his mind. He ran into the ward, pale and shaking. Seeing my weak state, tears had poured down his face. I had teased him back then. “Why are you crying? I’m not dead.” He wiped his eyes, his voice cracking with anger and worry. “Do you not care about your own body? Why did you drink so much?” I had smiled weakly. “But it worked, didn’t it? The supporting role in Director Miller’s film is yours.” Hearing that, he had cried even harder, clutching my hand to his face. “Emily, I don’t want to be famous anymore. I don’t care about any roles. I just want you safe by my side.” We really did have beautiful moments back then. Once, his eyes held nothing but me. His concern was real. It was nothing like today. I had called to tell him I was leaving the hospital, and his only instinct was to keep his distance. He didn’t even care enough to ask why I was hospitalized in the first place. I squeezed the calla lily petal in my hand until it bruised, watching the green sap stain my skin like the slow, quiet death of my love for him. If he cared so little, why had he bother sending these flowers? Ding. My phone lit up with a text message. It was from Bobby’s assistant. [Hey Emily, did you get the flowers? I made sure they were calla lilies, your favorite!] [I haven’t seen much of Bobby either these past couple of days, but when we head to his shoot tomorrow, I’ll sneakily ask him about his speech. Don’t listen to the gossip blogs, I’m sure he still has you in his heart.] I let out a cold, hollow laugh. So even the flowers weren’t from him. Bobby, oh Bobby. What exactly did you take me for? I loved you, I respected you, and I was willing to sacrifice my own life to build yours. But that didn’t mean you had the right to trample over my heart and drag my dignity through the dirt. We are done. Truly, completely done. 4 Bobby and I started dating during our first year in the industry. We belonged to the same talent agency, Summit Media, and constantly crossed paths at auditions and low-budget promotional events. Back then, we were both struggling actors at the bottom of the food chain, finding solace in each other’s company. One night, after a grueling sixteen-hour shoot in the freezing rain, we were both shivering, huddled in a small, poorly heated dressing room. He took my freezing hands in his, rubbed them warm, and confessed his love. He promised we would climb to the top of the mountain together, hand-in-hand. He was incredibly handsome. When he focused his gaze on someone, his eyes burned with a quiet, intense fire. Looking into those eyes, I had lost my mind and said yes. We spent five years together. I stayed by his side through every step, moving from a damp basement to a high-end luxury apartment, watching him grow from an unnamed extra into a household name and, finally, a Best Actor winner. He had indeed conquered the world. But the woman he wanted to hold hands with at the peak was no longer me. I pulled up the entertainment news, watching the trending topics boast about his perfect chemistry with Giselle. A familiar, icy numbness settled over me. It was hilarious, really. In all our years together, I had never once heard him mention this childhood sweetheart. But my assistant, Daisy, had mentioned Giselle’s name a few times recently. Supposedly, Giselle had spent several years studying ballet in Paris and was now returning to the country to transition into acting. She had signed with our agency, Summit Media. When Daisy first brought it up, she had leaned in and whispered a secret. Giselle wasn’t just joining the agency; she was returning to inherit it. She was the only daughter of Arthur Sinclair, the billionaire founder and owner of Summit Media. When Daisy was sharing this gossip, Bobby had been sitting nearby, pretending to read his script. But I had caught the fleeting, calculative gleam in his eyes. I wondered if his sudden public romantic confession had anything to do with that piece of information. I had a feeling I would find out the answer very soon. 5 I didn’t expect to find Bobby at our apartment when I got back. He was lounging on the sofa, clutching his phone, a soft, unmistakable smile playing on his lips as he messaged someone. How long had it been since I last saw him smile like that? Probably since he started filming the movie that won him his award. After that, his gaze and his smiles rarely landed on me. I stood silently at the entrance, watching him. He was so deeply engrossed in his screen that he didn’t even notice the door open. “Bobby.” I finally spoke, breaking the silence. He jerked, his head snapping toward me. The warmth on his face instantly vanished, replaced by a cold, guarded mask. Sensing my gaze on his phone, he quickly locked the screen and tossed it onto the sofa. “You’re back? That was fast.” He frowned, then tried to smooth his expression with a dry smile. “See? I told you you didn’t need me to pick you up. You’ve always been great at taking care of yourself, Emily.” Even though my heart had already gone numb, hearing those words still sent a sharp, physical ache through my chest. Yes, I was great at taking care of myself. Because I knew that no matter what happened to me, he wouldn’t show up. I only had myself to rely on. Over the past few years, especially after he gained a bit of fame, he had become obsessed with protecting his own reputation. He refused to let any potential scandal touch him, which meant constantly asking me to step back, to hide, to sacrifice my career for his. Peeling back the rose-colored glasses of love, I looked at the man before me with cold clarity. He was terrifyingly, incredibly selfish. But fortunately, I was leaving. This selfish, calculating man was no longer my problem. 6 “Let’s break up,” I said quietly, stating my decision as if discussing the weather. An adult breakup doesn’t require screaming, crying, or throwing dishes. It is merely a calculated exit, a mutual understanding of shifted interests. The moment the words left my mouth, I caught a fleeting glimpse of profound relief on Bobby’s face. He toyed with his phone, hesitating for a moment before speaking. “I know I’ve let you down, Emily. You can keep this apartment. Consider it my compensation to you.” I stayed silent. I deserved this apartment. The amount of sweat, tears, and industry connections I had poured into his career over the past five years was worth far more than this piece of real estate. He moved quickly, packing his bags as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time. As I watched him roll his suitcase out of the bedroom, I couldn’t help but ask one last question. “Bobby, did your heart change because Giselle is the heiress of Summit Media, or did you genuinely spend all these years pining for your childhood sweetheart?” Bobby paused at the entryway, his back to me. A long silence filled the hallway. I stared at his profile. The youthful, passionate face I had once loved so deeply had gradually been replaced by the calculating, weary lines of a seasoned social climber. The man who had once held my hand and promised to take me to the top had vanished long ago. Finally, Bobby let out a quiet sigh. “Emily, nobody knows better than you how brutal it is to struggle at the bottom of this industry. I’m just tired of struggling. I’m sorry.” A laugh bubbled up from my chest, entirely stripping away the last trace of bitterness. I looked at him and said with absolute sincerity, “I wish you a prosperous career, Bobby. May you fly as high as you want.” He turned to look at me, a brief, faint flicker of melancholy and regret crossing his eyes, only to be instantly replaced by cold resolve. “Emily, I hope you’ll keep our past relationship strictly to yourself. I don’t want Giselle to misunderstand.” With that, he opened the door and walked out without looking back. As the door clicked shut, the very last fragment of regret in my heart evaporated. This was good. This was exactly how it should be. 7 Once the breakup was finalized, Bobby acted as though a heavy shackle had been lifted from his ankles. That very evening, he officially announced his relationship with Giselle on his social media accounts, using the buzz to build massive hype for her return to the country. The internet went wild, congratulating the perfect couple, while taking the opportunity to throw a few more insults my way, telling the “clout-chasing leech” to finally crawl away and die. Daisy was furious on my behalf, pacing around my dressing room. I kept my head down, making notes on my script. “It’s fine. The higher they build their pedestal, the harder they fall. You know how this industry works.” Daisy looked at me, her eyes filled with sympathy. “But it’s so unfair! You were his actual partner all those years, and now everyone thinks you’re some psycho stalker. I can’t stand it.” “Is being an actor’s secret girlfriend really that prestigious?” I asked, not looking up. “I’d rather be an award-winning actress myself.” Hearing this, Daisy’s face lit up. “Emily, I knew you wouldn’t let this beat you! Yes! Let’s study the script. Once you land the lead role in Director Bennett’s The Divide, we’ll show them what a real star looks like.” She paused, sighing. “To be honest, you sacrificed way too much for Bobby. You handed him all the best scripts and opportunities, even though your acting skills are ten times better than his. It was such a waste.” It was indeed a waste. But at least I was awake now. The online hate was temporary. Now that I had cut off the dead weight of a useless relationship, I was returning to my true passion. I would use my own talent to wash away every drop of mud they had thrown at me. 8 I didn’t expect Giselle to set her sights on the lead role of The Divide as well. The moment I stepped into the agency office the next day, the corridors were buzzing with the news. The ballet princess, fresh off her high-profile return under Bobby’s wing, was auditioning for The Divide. She wanted to use this blockbuster project as her grand debut into the film industry. My manager, Valerie, walked into my dressing room with a grim expression. “Emily, you had a real fighting chance for this role. But now that the owner’s daughter is throwing her hat in the ring, how are we supposed to compete?” She sighed, sitting down across from me. “And with your current reputation… you refuse to release a statement clarifying your past with Bobby, so you’re just taking all the blame. Director Bennett might love your acting, but he has to consider the public backlash of casting you.” “What exactly are you trying to accomplish here?” I looked at her calmly. “I still want to fight for it. I’ve read this script front to back five times. I understand this character better than anyone else.” Valerie shook her head helplessly. “You’re an acting purist, Emily. But this industry isn’t just about talent. Do you really think Bobby got the lead in Crescent just because of his audition? He and Giselle were already making deals behind the scenes. That role was handed to him on a silver platter because of her family’s backing.” “You were the only naive one, kept in the dark while you practically built his career for him.” Valerie’s words rang in my ears, sounding utterly ridiculous. So, they all believed Bobby had landed Crescent because of Giselle’s influence. I wondered if Bobby believed that lie too. A cold, mocking smile touched my lips. How pathetic. Valerie gave me a few more warnings about not causing trouble before leaving the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. 9 I was surprised when Bobby initiated contact and knocked on my dressing room door. I looked up as he strode in, my brow furrowing in irritation. Not tearing his face off in public was the absolute limit of my generosity. I saw no reason for us to have any private conversations. Until he opened his mouth. He looked down at me, his deep eyes heavy with what he clearly thought was concern. “Emily, I expected you to break your contract and leave the agency by now.” His tone was insufferably patronizing, as if he were doing me a favor. “You know Giselle is back. She’s going to be the priority here. She knows about our past, and as long as you stay, the agency won’t throw a single scrap of resource your way.” He glanced at the script in my hand, his lips twisting into a dismissive smirk. “Take The Divide, for instance. You’ve been preparing for months, but that role is already hers. If you stay, you’ll just rot in the background.” “If I were you, I’d pack my bags and preserve whatever dignity I have left.” I stared at him, fully understanding his game. He was entirely convinced I stood no chance against Giselle, and he was trying to pressure me into leaving quietly so I wouldn’t be a thorn in their side. I could tolerate his betrayal. People change, and relationships fade. But I could not tolerate his sheer, unadulterated shamelessness. I looked at him as if looking at a complete stranger. “Bobby,” I said, a cold laugh escaping my lips, “you really are a piece of work.” The conversation ended in a tense, freezing silence. 10 My first face-to-face encounter with Giselle took place at the audition venue for The Divide. Before my car even came to a halt outside the studio, I saw her. She was stepping out of a luxury van, surrounded by a small army of assistants, with Bobby walking close by her side. Giselle wore an exquisite, high-end designer outfit, her beautiful face animated as she chatted happily with Bobby. Bobby kept his eyes fixed entirely on her, a tender, doting smile on his face. Suddenly, Giselle’s heel caught on a crack in the pavement. Almost instantly, Bobby moved with absolute urgency, wrapping his arms around her waist to steady her in a highly protective stance. This version of Bobby was both familiar and entirely foreign. It seemed that after freeing himself from me, he was living a very happy life. Beside me, Daisy let out a disgusted hiss. “Emily, the way that prick flaunts his new relationship makes me want to throw up.” I pulled my gaze back. “It has nothing to do with us. Grab the materials. It’s time to get out.”

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1 I had been in a secret relationship with Victoria Blaiklock, the heiress to the Blaiklock family, for years. We had finally agreed to make it public today. But when the press conference started, she was a no-show. Instead, her childhood best friend posted a cozy selfie with her on social media. The caption read: The ones who love you always find a way to you. Huge thanks to the incredibly busy CEO Victoria Blaiklock for dropping by my set. The comments section instantly filled with adoration and envy. Meanwhile, I stood on that stage under the harsh glare of the flashbulbs, utterly humiliated by the press. “Nate DuPont is just a D-list actor who can’t book a decent gig to save his life. To think he’d try to leach off the Blaiklock family… the audacity.” “He must be desperate for cash. Look at his background. A nobody from the streets trying to claim a Blaiklock heiress? He’s going to get blacklisted. He’ll end up working as a male escort at this rate, haha!” Unable to bear the mockery, I turned to leave. But before I could reach the exit, one of Victoria’s rabid fanboys hurled a heavy rock at me. It struck my temple, and the world went black. When I finally opened my eyes, my recent memories were gone. I only remembered who I truly was: the sole heir to the global DuPont conglomerate. And I remembered that I had an unfulfilled marriage alliance with the daughter of the prestigious Morgan family. My head throbbed with a blinding pain the moment I woke up. Just then, my phone buzzed on the bedside table. I swiped to answer, and my parents’ worried voices flooded the receiver. “Nate, sweetie, are you okay?” “Oh, your father and I have been worried sick over here in Europe! I still don’t understand why you refused to take over the family business and insisted on playing actor over there. Look at the mess you’ve gotten yourself into…” As my mother rattled on, a heavy fog settled in my brain. I frowned, thoroughly confused. “Mom, what are you talking about? Didn’t we agree that I’d come home and take over the company right after graduation?” There was a sudden, heavy silence on the other end. Then, my mother gasped. “Nate! What on earth are you saying? You’ve been acting for years! You even signed yourself over to that little girlfriend of yours, Victoria Blaiklock. And for what? Your career hasn’t even taken off!” “Girlfriend? But aren’t I betrothed to Audrey Morgan? Why would I have a girlfriend?” Silence fell over the line again, thicker this time. Finally, my mother’s voice trembled. “Nate… did you lose your memory?” I stared at the sterile white ceiling of the hospital room, trying to piece things together. “Yeah. It feels like I’ve forgotten a lot of things.” “Maybe… maybe that’s a blessing in disguise,” my mother whispered softly. “The things you forgot weren’t exactly happy memories.” Unhappy memories? I tried to dig into the blank spaces of my mind, but a sharp, stabbing pain shot through my temples, forcing me to stop. Before hanging up, my parents urged me to rest and recover. They promised to fly back and get me as soon as they wrapped up their business overseas. Until then, they told me to reach out to the Morgans if I needed anything. My late grandfather had been exceptionally close with Old Mr. Morgan. Even though I had previously walked away from the engagement, they wouldn’t turn their backs on me. I picked up my phone to search for my own name online, but the door clicked open. A young woman walked in, her eyes red and rimmed with tears. She looked at me with deep remorse. “I’m so sorry, Nate. I’m so late.” “Excuse me, but do I know you?” I asked, my voice flat as I stared at her. “Nate, what are you talking about? It’s me. Victoria.” She froze, her expression shifting to sheer shock. A man stepped up from behind her and sighed. “Look, Nate, I know you’re mad that Victoria stood you up at the press conference. But she only did it because she was worried the crew on my set would push me around. She went there to back me up. Don’t take it out on her.” Hearing this, Victoria immediately grabbed his hand, offering a comforting squeeze. “It’s not your fault, Roger. I was just too busy and completely lost track of the schedule. I forgot yesterday was supposed to be our big announcement.” Watching them trade sweet, protective glances, a sudden, bitter pang tightened my chest. I hated the feeling. Frowning, I snapped, “I don’t know either of you. Get out of my room. I need to rest.” “Nate, don’t be ridiculous,” Victoria said, her remorse instantly turning into annoyance. “I admitted I made a mistake. But pulling a stunt like amnesia just to hurt me is childish.” I caught the name she had used. Blaiklock. I tested the words on my tongue. “So, you’re the Blaiklock heiress? My supposed girlfriend?” Victoria let out a knowing, soft laugh. “Alright, I get it. You’re giving me an out. Yes, I’m your girlfriend. You remember now, don’t you?” “In that case, let me make this official: we are over. I have an arrangement with the Morgan family. Do not contact me again.” Roger let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “An arrangement with the Morgans? A family of that stature wouldn’t even look at a D-lister like you. Nate DuPont, did that rock scramble your brain?” Victoria shook her head, pitying me. “Seriously, Nate. If you’re trying to make me jealous, at least make the lie believable. Besides me, which elite family would ever look past your working-class roots?” “I am the sole heir of the global DuPont Group,” I growled, my patience wearing thin. “I’d like to see which family in this country dares to look down on me!” “Haha! Victoria, he’s completely lost his mind!” Roger barked with laughter, staring at me like I was a clown. “Just because his last name is DuPont doesn’t mean he has anything to do with the actual DuPont empire!” Victoria rolled her eyes, her face tight with second-hand embarrassment. “Nate, stop talking. You’re making a fool of yourself.” Suddenly, my phone rang. 2 I looked down. It was Director Bennett. He was likely the director of my current project. I hesitated before sliding to answer. The second the call connected, a barrage of spitfire abuse came through the speaker. “Nate DuPont! Are you out of your mind? You were doing fine, so why did you have to go and provoke the Blaiklocks? How the hell am I supposed to shoot my movie now?!” His voice was deafening, clearly audible to the two people standing in my room. I glanced at Victoria, who looked suddenly guilty, and calmly put the phone on speaker. “Director Bennett,” I said slowly. “As far as I know, my relationship with the Blaiklock heiress was very real.” “Real, my foot! Victoria Blaiklock herself just ordered me to replace you as the lead and give the role to her best friend, Roger Cross! If she wanted him in the first place, she should have said so instead of making me waste six months on you! You’re a liability, Nate. Do the industry a favor and get yourself blacklisted!” With a frustrated groan, he hung up. A cold anger flared in my chest. As a DuPont, being berated by a low-level director was beyond insulting. I couldn’t comprehend what my past self had been doing to tolerate this. Suddenly, fractured memories flickered in my mind. Freezing temperatures. Me, shivering, submerged in ice-cold water for hours. The stunt department’s negligence, causing me to throw myself off a galloping horse. I had bled for this film. I had given it everything. And my so-called girlfriend had handed my blood, sweat, and tears directly to another man without a second thought. “Well, Ms. Blaiklock,” I said, a dark smile playing on my lips. “Care to explain this?” Her eyes darted away. “Roger is new to the industry. This project is a perfect launchpad for him. Besides, the internet is ripping you apart right now. The director didn’t want the bad press anyway.” “Is that so? And why exactly is the internet ripping me apart? Oh right, because you stood me up.” I had already seen the footage from the press conference. The pack of reporters surrounding me like vultures, laughing in my face while I stood there defenseless. And while I was being publicly crucified, my “girlfriend” was playing doting guardian angel on another man’s set. The whole relationship was a tragic joke. Sensing my hostility, Roger’s smug demeanor vanished, replaced by an incredibly fragile, wounded look. “Nate, it’s all my fault,” he whimpered. “Please don’t fight with Victoria because of me. Look, I’ll pull out of the movie. I’ll give all my upcoming gigs to you as compensation, okay? Just stop pretending to have amnesia.” Seeing Roger play the victim instantly melted Victoria’s guilt into fierce defensiveness. She glared at me. “Nate, I already apologized. What is wrong with you? Do you have to hold this over our heads just to make us feel miserable?” “Reflect on your attitude. When you’re ready to act like an adult, we can talk.” Throwing those words over her shoulder, she grabbed Roger’s arm and stormed out of the room. I stared at the closed door, feeling a strange wave of relief. Thank god I forgot her. If I had actually loved a woman like that, the betrayal would have cut me to the bone. … A few days later, I was discharged from the hospital. My first order of business was to visit the Morgan estate. I wanted to apologize for calling off the engagement. If possible, I wanted to honor my grandfather’s dying wish and make things right with Audrey Morgan. When I arrived at the grand Morgan manor, I spotted a woman in the garden watering the hydrangeas. It was Audrey. She possessed a quiet, breathtaking elegance that was a world away from Victoria’s loud, demanding presence. Bathed in the soft morning sunlight, she looked so ethereal my chest tightened with a sudden, genuine flutter. “Hello, Ms. Morgan,” I called out. She looked up, her gray eyes widening in utter disbelief. “Nate? What are you doing here?” “I came to pay my respects.” She stared at me as if she’d seen a ghost but quietly ushered me into the house. Old Mr. Morgan was just as stunned to see me. Since I didn’t know the exact details of how I had broken things off before, I decided the best approach was absolute honesty. “You’re saying… you don’t remember anything from the past few years?” Audrey asked, her voice rising in disbelief. I nodded. “Yes. But judging by the state of things, I don’t think I missed out on much. Amnesia might actually be a blessing.” “I didn’t just come to apologize. I want to reinstate our marriage alliance. That is, if you’re still willing to have me.” The room fell into a tense, heavy silence. Old Mr. Morgan cleared his throat, his eyes sharp as flint. “As far as I recall, your relationship with the Blaiklock girl was quite serious. You walked into my home and broke off this engagement specifically for her.” “I will handle that, Mr. Morgan,” I replied steadily. “I may not remember the details of our relationship, but her recent actions have made it very clear that we have no future together.” The old patriarch stared at me, his powerful presence weighing down on the room like a physical force. I clenched my jaw, meeting his gaze head-on without flinching. After a tense minute, the severity in his eyes melted into approval. He turned to Audrey. “And what about you, Audrey? Are you willing to give him another chance?” Audrey studied me, her gaze lingering on my face. After a long pause, she said, “If he can clean up his mess and start fresh, I’m willing to give him a chance.” “After all, a merger between the Morgan and DuPont families is highly beneficial for both of us.” “Thank you, Ms. Morgan,” I said, offering a small, confident smile. “I won’t let you down.” 3 Leaving the Morgan estate, I followed the navigation on my phone back to the apartment I apparently leased. To my surprise, Victoria was already there, sitting on my sofa and sipping a cup of coffee. She looked up at me like a queen inspecting a peasant. “Back already?” “I assume you’ve calmed down now. Good. We can finally talk.” I knew I needed to end things cleanly, so I ignored her condescending tone and sat down opposite her. “Ms. Blaiklock, since you’ve clearly found someone else, let’s just make this clean. We’re over.” “Nate, enough!” Victoria slammed her cup down. “Is this all because of that stupid press conference? Fine! I’ll make it up to you!” “There’s a high-society gala tomorrow night. We can use the event to announce our engagement. That should satisfy your pride, shouldn’t it?” She picked up her cup again, offering a smug smile. Engagement? Had my past self really been that close to marrying her? “I’ll pass on the engagement, Ms. Blaiklock. As I said, my commitment lies with the Morgan family.” “Why do you keep bringing up the Morgans? If you offend a dynasty like that with your delusions, even I won’t be able to protect you!” “And stop trying to pass yourself off as the DuPont heir just because you share a last name. Their family operates overseas, which is why your records don’t show much, but if the real DuPonts find out you’re using their name, they will ruin you.” Hearing the Blaiklock heiress warn the actual DuPont heir about the wrath of his own family was almost comedy gold. Before I could speak, Victoria’s tone softened. “Look, once we announce our engagement, I’ll have my agency clean up your reputation. I’ll even get you a lead role in a massive new drama, okay?” It made no sense. If she cared about me, why hadn’t she put out a single PR statement to defend me? Why did she have to wait until we were engaged to clear my name? Or was I just a chess piece she was using to pave the way for Roger Cross? She didn’t love me. Not even a little. Why on earth had my past self stayed with her? I tried to dig into the memory, but a familiar ache started behind my eyes. I pushed it down and frowned. “No thanks. I’m leaving the entertainment industry anyway.” “Nate, quit throwing tantrums. You signed a lifetime contract with my agency. The termination fee is astronomical. With your bank account, you couldn’t afford to pay it off in three lifetimes.” “A lifetime contract?” I looked at her, stunned. “So I essentially sold myself to you?” Victoria’s face softened into a nostalgic smile. “Yes. You said I was your entire world, and that you’d gladly sign your life away for me.” “If you hadn’t helped me secure that wager with my family back then, I wouldn’t have gotten my shares in the Blaiklock Group. I haven’t forgotten what you did for me, Nate.” “And what about Roger?” I asked, cutting right through her sweet words. “Roger is just my childhood friend. He returned from abroad a few years ago, and his family asked me to look out for him. I know I’ve neglected you lately because of him, but I promise he won’t be a distraction anymore.” Just as the words left her mouth, her phone lit up on the table. My eyes caught the caller ID: Roger Babe. She answered it right in front of me. Her face instantly pale, she cooed into the receiver, “Stay right there. Don’t move. I’m coming to get you!” Hanging up, she grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the door. “Come to the office with me. We have urgent business to discuss.” I pulled my arm back, staring at her coldly. “If Roger is the one calling you, what does that have to do with me?” “It’s work-related, Nate! Just come on, we don’t have time to waste!” For some inexplicable reason, I let her drag me to the agency headquarters.

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1 My cat had been missing for ten years. Wait, no. My ten-year-old cat had been missing for a week, and I had barely slept a wink since. Right as my mind was teetering on the edge of a total breakdown, a video popped up on my feed. What should you do when a cat attacks you? The girl in the video was sobbing, giant crocodile tears rolling down her cheeks as she claimed a cat had viciously scratched her. She held up her wrist to the camera. The “wound” was nothing more than a faint, barely visible red line. But when the camera flipped, my heart completely stopped. The girl filming the video was Bella, my boyfriend Rowan’s ex-girlfriend. And curled up in the background, trapped in a rusty wire cage, was my missing cat, Peanut. His normally vibrant gray fur was dull and matted. He was so severely emaciated that his spine protruded sharply against his skin. He just lay there on the cold floor, his eyes vacant and lifeless. “Some people say that when a cat attacks a human, it needs to be put down. Honestly, I think they might be right.” Bella sniffled perfectly for the camera. “Don’t get me wrong, guys, I’m not going to abuse it. After all, cats have nine lives, right?” She kept crying to her audience, but I couldn’t listen to another word. My hands shook violently as I dialed Rowan’s number. He paused for a second when he picked up, his tone completely indifferent. “Didn’t you always say that having Peanut around instantly cures your anxiety? Bella has been super depressed lately. I just brought the cat over to her place to cheer her up. Don’t be so petty about it.” Listening to his calm, rational voice, a hollow laugh escaped my throat. So in his eyes, my childhood pet was nothing more than a disposable anti-depressant for his ex-girlfriend. If that was the case, I was completely done with this man. I drove like a maniac to Bella’s apartment complex. Her front door was unlocked. I burst inside, only to hear her voice echoing from the kitchen. She was still live-streaming. “You guys are totally right in the chat. Filthy strays like this need to be sanitized, otherwise they bring diseases into the house.” Bella picked up her phone, walking toward the stove. “The water is already boiling. I’m going to go give him a nice hot bath.” I charged into the kitchen. A massive stainless steel pot of water was boiling violently on the burner. Peanut was locked inside a cramped, rusted metal cage on the floor. He was curled into a tight ball in the corner. When he saw me, he opened his mouth, but he was so weak that no sound came out. He was a senior cat, and his health had always been fragile. After a week of being tortured in Bella’s apartment, he was clinging to life by a thread. Bella grabbed the heavy pot of boiling water and tilted it directly toward Peanut’s cage. My heart flatlined. A bloodcurdling scream ripped from my lungs. “No!” Bella jumped, acting as if my sudden appearance had terrified her. Her hands conveniently slipped. Instead of hitting the cage, the entire pot of boiling water splashed directly toward me. In a split second of pure adrenaline, I twisted my body and scrambled backward, but it wasn’t enough. A wave of scalding water soaked the back of my dress and my thigh. I could instantly feel my skin blistering and swelling beneath the wet fabric. Half of my body erupted in a searing, agonizing fire. Bella gasped, pressing a hand to her chest in exaggerated horror. “Oh my god, Ivy! What are you doing here?” I ignored the blinding pain, dropping to my knees and ripping the cage door open. I scooped Peanut into my arms, holding him tightly against my chest. When I felt his weight, my stomach dropped. He felt like a skeleton. He had lost almost half his body weight. His fur was sticky and clumped together. His bright, expressive eyes were sealed shut with thick crust and discharge. He managed to crack one eye open just enough to look at me, the tip of his tail giving a weak, barely noticeable twitch. The room started spinning. Black spots danced in my vision. My mother had given this cat to me right before she died. On her deathbed, she had held my hand, gently stroking Peanut’s tiny head. “Ivy, when I’m gone, Peanut is going to be here to keep you company.” For the last ten years, this little cat was the one who sat with me through every single lonely, grief-stricken night. He saw me through high school, college, and my first real relationship. I always thought he would live long enough to see me get married. I thought he would meet my future children. But now, he was staring at me with the hazy, exhausted look of a creature that was about to cross the rainbow bridge. The dam broke. Hot tears streamed down my face. I held him tight, ready to sprint to the nearest emergency vet. But Bella suddenly stepped sideways, blocking the kitchen doorway. “Ivy, you can’t just take him.” She pointed to her phone, which was still broadcasting. “I’m on a live stream! Thousands of people saw him scratch me. They are waiting to see how I discipline him!” I clutched Peanut tighter to my chest. “If you touch a single hair on his body again, I will kill you.” Bella reached out to grab my arm. Just as I was about to shove her away, the front door clicked open. Rowan walked in. He stood in the entryway, his brows pulling together in heavy annoyance when he saw me. “Ivy? How did you even find this place?” In the blink of an eye, Bella burst into hysterical tears and threw herself against Rowan’s chest. “Rowan, I told you she was petty! She wouldn’t even let me borrow her cat for a few days.” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Look at her! She broke into my house to steal the cat back, and she just tried to hit me!” Rowan instinctively wrapped his arms around her, gently rubbing her back to soothe her. “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here.” He turned his cold gaze toward me. “Ivy, it is just a cat. Are you seriously acting like this?” I stood there, trembling from the agonizing burns on my skin and the dying weight in my arms. “Rowan, do you have any idea how long this cat has been in my life? He is dying!” His frown deepened into absolute disgust. “Ivy, your animal attacked Bella. Instead of checking on the actual human being who got hurt, you are throwing a fit over a pet.” He shook his head slowly. “When did you become so completely heartless?” I stared at the man I had loved for three years. I didn’t have a single word left to say to him. I pushed past them, holding Peanut securely, and ran out the door. Once I was on the street, I pulled out my phone and searched for the nearest animal hospital. I sprinted for twenty agonizing minutes, the burns on my legs stinging with every step. When I finally burst through the glass doors of the clinic, I rushed straight to the front desk. But the receptionist immediately held up her hand to stop me. “Miss, I’m sorry, but our entire veterinary team is currently occupied conducting a medical assessment for Ms. Bella’s injuries.” She glanced at my dying cat. “Mr. Rowan left instructions. He said you need to wait in the lobby. Once the doctors are free, they will take a look at the animal.” I looked up at the glowing sign above the reception desk. Whitmore Veterinary Care. Rowan’s family owned this clinic. The next closest emergency vet was at least twenty miles away in heavy traffic. Peanut wouldn’t survive the drive. A desperate sob ripped from my throat. “This is an animal hospital! Why the hell are your veterinarians doing a medical assessment on a human being?” I begged her. “Please, just get a doctor to look at Peanut. He’s not going to make it.” The receptionist looked incredibly uncomfortable. “But Ms. Bella’s situation is also an emergency.” I followed her line of sight. Through the glass wall of examination room one, I saw Bella sitting on a sterile table. A group of vet techs hovered around her, taking high-resolution photos of that tiny, pathetic red scratch on her wrist. A senior veterinarian was crouching next to her, speaking in a soothing, overly gentle voice. “Don’t worry, Ms. Bella, we are documenting everything for your records. If this leaves a scar, we can write a formal medical certificate for you.” My vision went completely red. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted straight toward the trauma bay with Peanut in my arms. Rowan stepped out of nowhere, blocking the double doors with his broad shoulders. “Ivy, stop making a scene. This is a medical facility. We have protocols.” At that moment, an ER vet stepped out of the trauma bay. He took one look at Peanut’s condition, and all the color drained from his face. “Code red, get this cat in here right now.” I lunged forward like a drowning woman reaching for a life raft. But Rowan stuck his arm out, blocking the doctor. He looked down at me with absolute authority. “You want us to save your cat? Fine. But you need to record a video first.” He shoved his phone into my face. The screen showed the comment section of Bella’s viral video. The internet was violently divided. Some people were accusing her of animal abuse, while others called her a victim. A few people had already started doxxing her personal information. Rowan pointed at the vicious comments, his voice dropping into a dangerous, commanding tone. “You are going to record a public clarification. You will look into the camera and say that you voluntarily lent the cat to Bella.” He paused, staring into my eyes. “You will say that Bella followed all of your feeding instructions, and that she absolutely did not abuse it.” I stared at him, my mind completely blanking out from the sheer audacity of his words. “Rowan… I spent an entire week tearing the city apart looking for him.” My voice was a shredded whisper. “I printed hundreds of flyers. I begged security guards to check surveillance tapes. I haven’t slept in seven days. And you want me to tell the internet that I happily lent him to her?” Rowan sighed, completely exasperated. “Ivy, can you stop being so unbelievably stubborn? I gave her the cat on your behalf. Is there really a difference?” In my arms, Peanut let out a tiny, rattling gasp. His fragile body twitched violently against my chest. That tiny, desperate movement felt like a spike driven straight through my heart, instantly deflating all my rage and replacing it with pure terror. I looked down at him. He didn’t even have the strength to open his eyes anymore. Bella walked over, dabbing her perfectly dry eyes with a tissue. “It’s okay, Rowan. If Ivy doesn’t want to clear my name, she doesn’t have to.” She sniffled. “I only got attacked by a vicious animal. It’s not a big deal.” She glanced down at Peanut, a flicker of genuine malice flashing in her eyes before she hid it behind her tears. “He really is so aggressive, though. Just looking at him makes me shake.” She started crying even louder, making sure the entire lobby could hear her. Rowan immediately lost his temper. He glared down at me. “Ivy. Get on your knees. Apologize to Bella on behalf of your vicious animal.” I stared at him. “You want me to kneel?” My voice cracked. “She tortured him for a week! She is the reason he is dying!” Rowan’s expression was made of stone. “Don’t make wild accusations without evidence. If you want your cat saved, you fix Bella’s reputation first.” My tears finally broke free, silently tracking down my face. We were surrounded. The receptionists, the vet techs, the doctors, the paying customers in the waiting room. Every single pair of eyes was glued to me. I had no other choice. I slowly bent my knees, the agonizing burn on my thigh screaming in protest, and knelt on the cold tile floor right in front of Bella. A momentary flash of pure, intoxicating triumph crossed Bella’s face. But she quickly slapped her hands over her mouth, acting horrified. “Oh my god, Ivy, what are you doing?” I raised my phone, flipping the camera to face my tear-streaked face. My hands shook so badly I could barely hold it steady. “I… I completely misunderstood Bella.” My voice was dead. Hollow. “I asked Rowan to bring Peanut over to keep her company. She did not abuse my cat. Peanut scratched her, and I take full responsibility for my animal’s behavior.” With every single syllable I choked out, I could feel my dignity being ground into dust under their shoes. I could hear the hushed whispers of the customers around me. “Oh wow, I guess everyone really did misunderstand the streamer.” “If the owner is literally kneeling to apologize, that cat must have severe behavioral issues.” I tuned it all out. I looked up, locking eyes with Rowan. “Can they save him now?” Rowan looked away, avoiding my gaze, and gave the ER doctor a curt nod. Peanut was finally rushed through the double doors into the trauma bay. The moment the doors swung shut, I stayed kneeling on the floor, my palms slick with cold sweat. Bella stepped closer, bending down to pretend to help me up. She leaned in, her lips brushing against my ear. Her voice was a venomous, triumphant whisper meant only for me. “You treat this cat like he’s your actual child, Ivy.” She laughed softly. “Your dead mother’s precious little gift. And now, the only way he gets to live is if you beg on your knees like a dog for me.” She patted my shoulder. “You look so pathetic. I just wanted to see if watching your cat suffer would hurt worse than what I felt when Rowan dumped me.” My entire body went rigid. My nails dug into my palms so hard they drew blood. I wanted to rip her face off. But the red lights above the trauma bay were still on. Peanut was still on that operating table. I couldn’t fight back. I had to swallow every single ounce of hatred, choking it down into the deepest pit of my stomach. I watched in silence as Bella and Rowan walked out of the clinic arm in arm, looking like the absolute picture of a loving couple. I waited outside those doors for three agonizing hours. Finally, the doctor stepped out. His face was incredibly grim. “Miss Ivy, Peanut suffered extreme psychological trauma. He was entirely deprived of food and water for seven days.” The doctor paused, his voice dropping. “But the worst part is the blunt force trauma. He was severely beaten. One of his legs and several of his ribs are completely shattered.” “His vitals are crashing. We have him stabilized on life support in the ICU, but he cannot leave the incubator or the monitoring equipment.” My throat locked up. I couldn’t form a single word. I just sat on the plastic chair outside the ICU, staring through the glass at Peanut’s tiny, broken body as his chest barely rose and fell. As long as he was breathing. That was all I needed to keep going. Late that night, Rowan and Bella returned to the clinic. “Wow, I guess the saying is true. Cats really do have nine lives. It’s so hard to kill them!” Bella practically skipped toward me, her voice dripping with fake cheer. She was holding a brand new, expensive ragdoll kitten in her arms. And strapped around that new kitten’s neck… was a faded, hand-woven collar. The moment I saw it, a deafening ring exploded in my ears. That was Peanut’s collar. My mother had woven that collar by hand the day before she died. I shot up from the chair and walked straight toward her. “Give me the collar back. That belonged to my mother.” Bella looked at me, a cruel smirk playing on her lips. Right in front of my face, she unclipped the collar from her new kitten and tossed it casually into the biohazard trash can. “It’s just a dirty piece of string, Ivy. Why are you getting so hysterical?” She rolled her eyes. “If your mom is watching from heaven, I’m sure she’d want you to be a little more generous, don’t you think?” I lunged forward, dropping to my knees to dig through the bloody gauze and medical waste in the trash bin to find it. Bella suddenly shrieked at the top of her lungs, throwing herself backward against the wall. “Ah! Ivy, stop, please don’t hit me!” Rowan instantly sprinted over, shoving me hard away from the trash can and standing protectively in front of Bella. “Ivy, what is wrong with you?” I knelt on the floor, clutching the soiled, filthy collar in my trembling hands. “She threw away the last thing my mother gave me.” Rowan’s face darkened with anger. “That doesn’t give you the right to act like a complete psychopath in public.” Bella started sobbing again, burying her face in Rowan’s chest. “Rowan, I swear I wasn’t trying to provoke her. I was just trying to give the collar back.” She sniffled. “But she’s just like that feral cat. The second she gets emotional, she attacks people.” I whipped my head up. “You liar!” Bella pulled out her phone. She pressed play. It was the video of me kneeling in the lobby, taking the blame. Her tears flowed faster. “Ivy, you literally admitted everything on camera this morning. And now you’re attacking me again.” She looked at me with wide, innocent eyes. “Is it because I didn’t forgive you fast enough? Is that why you hate me?” Rowan glared at me, his eyes filled with absolute contempt. “Ivy, that is enough!” He pointed a finger at me. “Your cat is going to require thousands of dollars in medical care. Stop causing drama and making things worse for yourself.” I looked through the glass at Peanut, his tiny chest barely moving. I wanted to scream in Rowan’s face. I wanted to tear Bella limb from limb. But I couldn’t. Peanut was still in Rowan’s hospital. He was reliant on their oxygen and their IV drips to survive the night. I closed my eyes. My voice was a hollow, broken rasp. “I’m sorry.” Rowan let out a heavy sigh of relief. “If you had just acted like a rational adult from the start, we wouldn’t be dealing with this mess.” I didn’t answer him. I just wanted to go back to the window. I just wanted to watch my cat. As long as he survived. I could endure any humiliation in the world. I didn’t sleep a single second that night. I sat on the cold floor of the hallway, clutching my mother’s soiled collar to my chest. I don’t know what time it was when the shrill, deafening scream of a medical alarm shattered the silence. I shot up from the floor and sprinted toward the ICU. When I pushed the heavy doors open, my blood froze in my veins. Bella was standing inside the sterile room. The door to Peanut’s incubator was wide open. The oxygen and the heating elements had been manually turned off. Peanut was curled into a stiff ball in the corner of the plastic box, his body completely still. Bella was leaning over the incubator, staring down at my dying cat, her voice a soft, venomous whisper. “Your owner loves you so much.” She smiled. “If you actually die, do you think she’ll go completely crazy? Honestly, I hope she does. Rowan absolutely hates crazy women.” I stood paralyzed in the doorway. Bella glanced over her shoulder. When she saw me standing there, actual panic flashed across her face for a fraction of a second. But a moment later, she unleashed a piercing, terrified scream. “Ivy, what are you doing!” She backed away from the incubator, holding her hands up defensively. “I just wanted to check on him, why did you have to scare me like that?” I shoved her out of the way, practically climbing onto the table to reach into the incubator. “Peanut. Peanut, look at me. Please.” His eyelids fluttered open, just a fraction of an inch. He opened his mouth, trying to give me one last meow. But he couldn’t. His tail just gave one final, almost imperceptible twitch against the sterile padding. My entire body began to violently shake. The night shift doctors and nurses flooded into the room, pushing me aside to start CPR. Rowan sprinted through the doors a second later. Bella immediately threw herself into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. “Rowan, I just wanted to see if the cat was doing better, but Ivy just charged in here like a maniac!” She buried her face in his neck. “She shoved me so hard, I got scared and accidentally bumped into the machine’s power cord.” I whipped around, staring at her with murder in my eyes. “Bella, how long are you going to keep lying?” Bella wailed louder. “I know you hate me, Ivy!” She pointed at me. “But you already posted the video admitting you were wrong. You can’t just blame me every time something goes wrong with this sick cat!” Rowan looked at me, his eyes filled with profound disappointment. “Ivy, why do you have to be like this every single time?” He pulled Bella closer to him. “You have already bullied her to the point of a mental breakdown.” I stared at the man I had given three years of my life to. He was a complete joke. “She tortured him. And she just snuck into the ICU and turned off his life support.” My voice was dead calm. “And you still take her side?” Rowan frowned, clearly losing his patience. “Stop making insane allegations without proof.” He sighed. “Even if Bella bumped the machine, it was an accident because she was terrified of you. Are you going to force her to kill herself before you’re finally satisfied?” Inside the trauma bay, the frantic shouting of the medical team suddenly stopped. My heart skipped a beat. The lead ER vet walked out, slowly pulling down his surgical mask. “Miss Ivy. I am so sorry. Peanut… his heart stopped.” I stood perfectly still. It felt like he was speaking a foreign language. I had already knelt. I had apologized. I took the blame for everything she did to him. I swallowed every single ounce of my pride just to keep him breathing. Why didn’t he make it? I took a slow, heavy step into the room. Peanut was lying so quietly on the metal table. He didn’t have to be afraid anymore. He didn’t have to feel pain anymore. I reached out with a trembling hand and gently stroked his frail, bony spine. My voice was so quiet it was barely a whisper. “Peanut… mommy was too late.” By the door, Bella was still putting on her performance. “Ivy, please don’t be like this. I swear it was an accident.” She sniffled. “He was already so old. You can’t put all the blame on me, it’s just his time to go.” I slowly lifted my head and looked at the two of them. A smile crept onto my face. I laughed. I laughed as the tears poured out of my eyes, falling onto the cold metal table. “Alright. Rowan. Bella.” My voice was a razor blade. “From this exact moment, I have no weaknesses left to exploit.” “I am going to make the two of you experience every single ounce of despair my cat felt in his final days.”

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1 When Tony appointed Alyson as his personal assistant, I knew my marriage was over. This husband of mine was the culmination of my third serious relationship. And my first two? Both had ended because of the exact same woman: my half-sister. Faced with my fury, Tony had once looked me in the eye and said, “Your father just made the kind of mistake any man could make. Why do you have to cling to the past and refuse to forgive him?” So, I turned around and introduced a gorgeous, young mistress to my father-in-law. She promptly gave him a healthy, bouncing baby boy. When Tony screamed at me in hysterics over the threat to his inheritance, I gave him a cold smile. “Your father just made the kind of mistake any man could make. Why do you have to cling to the past and refuse to forgive him?” … Tony was half-kneeling on the hardwood floor while Alyson was perched on our velvet sofa. He was gently sliding a heel onto her foot. They looked up and shared a soft, intimate smile, looking far more like a long-married couple than Tony and I ever did. The moment I walked in, Tony scrambled up as if he had been electrocuted. “Vivian,” he stammered, offering a quick explanation. “I ran into Alyson nearby. Her heel snapped, and since you two wear the same shoe size, I thought I would lend her a pair of yours.” I set the cake box on the console table without looking up. “You do not need to explain yourself to me when you bring people into this house,” I said, my voice ice-cold. “But let us get one thing straight. My mother only had one daughter. I took her maiden name, Sinclair. I am not a Pendleton.” Tony’s expression hardened. “Don’t be so childish, Vivian. You have been fighting with your father for years. We have all been patient and let it slide, but it is time for our families to make peace.” I turned to face him. “Make peace? With whom? That woman and her daughter? Or the cheating bastard who calls himself my father?” Alyson’s eyes welled with tears on cue. “Vivian, I know you hate me. But I could not choose how I was born. It is not my fault. Why do you always treat me like this?” Tony stepped in front of her. “What does this have to do with Alyson? She is completely innocent.” Innocent. That was the exact same innocent act she had used to steal my last two boyfriends. “It has been years,” Tony pressured. “Let it go. Don’t be so bitter.” My past heartbreaks had taught me one valuable lesson: do not waste energy on pointless arguments. I looked at the man I had shared the last three years of my life with. “If you want me to forgive and forget, then you had better prepare for a divorce.” Tony froze, completely blindsided by my decisiveness. Irritation flared across his face. Alyson scrambled to her feet, grabbing her designer bag from the sofa. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. Vivian does not want to see me, so I will just leave. Please do not fight because of me.” Tears spilled down her cheeks, making her look incredibly fragile. “Vivian, we are family. No matter how long it takes, we will wait for you to heal and come home.” I felt nothing but pure disgust. Ignoring my icy glare, Tony walked her out. I could hear him reassuring her at the door, promising he would talk some sense into me. When he came back inside, his face was dark. “No wonder you do not get along with your family,” he spat, his words cutting like glass. “With a rotten attitude like yours, you get exactly what you deserve. No wonder your exes dumped you.” I stared at him, unable to believe my ears. “What did you just say?” “You heard me,” Tony sneered. “If I had known you were this cold-hearted, I never would have married you. Always crying about your toxic family, when in reality, you bring all this misery on yourself. You deserve to suffer.” My blood ran cold. When Tony was pursuing me, I had been completely honest with him about my past and why my previous relationships had failed. I had opened up my heart and told him the one thing I could never forgive: my father’s infidelity and the mistress who had driven my mother to suicide. Back then, he had held me tight and sworn, “Vivian, I will never betray you. I will never let you experience that pain again.” Exhausted by my past, I had let his warmth melt my defenses. We fell in love and married. He was even the one who had shielded me with his own body when my father threw a heavy paperweight at me during a family dispute. The scar on his back was proof of his protection. He knew exactly what that house represented to me. He knew the wounds beneath the surface had never truly healed. Yet, for the sake of his assistant, he was using my deepest trauma to tear me apart. The people you love always know exactly where to strike to hurt you the most. Seeing how pale I had turned, Tony’s lips trembled. He took a step back, trying to soften his tone. “I’m sorry, Vivian. I just want you and Alyson’s family to get along so you can finally feel the warmth of a normal home. I got frustrated and spoke without thinking. I did not mean it.” My heart went completely numb. “Right,” I muttered, turning away to unpack the table. Seeing no further reaction from me, Tony assumed the storm had passed. He figured a quick apology was enough and did not care whether I actually forgave him. He believed that since we had been married for years, I would eventually get over it on my own. Satisfied with his own logic, he quietly retreated to the bedroom. I listened to his retreating footsteps, then slowly opened the cake box. If Tony had cared even a little, he would have realized this was a birthday cake. If he cared, he would have remembered today was my birthday. But he forgot. Just like he forgot the vows he had made to me. Instead, he had brought Alyson into our home. I lit the single candle, watched the flame flicker, and blew it out. “Happy birthday, Vivian.” I knew then that I had to leave. I refused to drown in a marriage that was doomed to fail, begging a man to love me. The next morning, I was preparing breakfast. The moment I set the food down, Tony sat at the table and grabbed it. “Babe, that smells amazing,” he said, taking a massive bite of the breakfast wrap I had prepared. “How did you know I wanted this today? I’ll take this with me and eat it on the way.” I have always been amazed by how easily men can hurt a woman and then act as if absolutely nothing happened, expecting her to move on immediately. “I did not make that for you,” I said calmly. Tony paused, then laughed. “Don’t be petty, babe. I have already packed it.” “That was my lunch. It has nothing to do with you.” His eyes drifted to the trash can, where the empty cake box sat. He pulled out his phone, checked the calendar, and realized what day it was. A look of guilt crossed his face, quickly replaced by a placating smile. “I’m so sorry, babe. Yesterday was crazy. I will make it up to you tonight. Thanks for the breakfast. I’ll cherish every bite.” With that, he grabbed his coat and hurried out. I grit my teeth. It was an open kitchen; he could easily see I had only made one serving. I ended up buying a quick pastry near the office. As I walked into the lobby, I saw Tony’s assistant, Ross, walking toward the elevators with a very familiar woman. “Ross?” I called out. Ross turned around. “Mrs. Harrison? Is something wrong?” Alyson turned as well, a triumphant smirk playing on her lips. “I am starting my new job today. Tony personally arranged it for me.” Ross, entirely oblivious to the tension, smiled. “Yes, Mr. Harrison specifically asked me to place Miss Pendleton in the executive assistant pool. Since you two have different last names, I had no idea you were sisters! You are both so beautiful.” I let out a cold laugh. “Of course you did not know. She is the bastard daughter my blind father had with his mistress.” Ross’s smile froze instantly, the friendly words dying in his throat. He looked between the two of us, suddenly realizing he had walked into a minefield. Alyson’s eyes welled with tears again. “Vivian, why do you say such horrible things? Our parents are married now. It is a legitimate marriage! I have never done anything to hurt you. Why do you keep bringing up the past? I know you want to keep me down. I have given in to you at every turn, and now I just wanted an internship. Why can’t you even let me have this?” Her loud, trembling voice began to draw looks from the surrounding employees. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly wrapped breakfast wrap: the exact one Tony had taken from my kitchen. “Here, take this. It is homemade and clean. I saw you buying food from a street cart down there.” I almost laughed out loud. My husband had taken the breakfast I made and handed it straight to her. “Whether you have done anything to hurt me is something only you know,” I said, locking eyes with her. “But you can skip the HR onboarding. This company will not be hiring you.” Alyson’s face flushed with anger. “I am here because Tony brought me in. You cannot just fire me on a whim.” “Why can’t I?” I stepped closer. “I am the co-owner here. I have shares, and I have status. Why shouldn’t I?” “Because I said so!” Tony’s sharp voice cut through the lobby. He strode over and pulled Alyson behind his back. “Vivian, you have disappointed me,” Tony said, his voice dripping with disdain. “You are completely unrecognizable. Abusing your power just because you are throwing a tantrum? Are you really this petty?” My disappointment ran far deeper than his. “Tony, I told you before. It is her or me. If she stays, I leave. Are you still keeping her as your assistant?” Tony did not even look back at me as he shielded Alyson. “Then pack your bags and resign.” His words hit me like a physical blow. “Fine.” Ross stood there awkwardly, wishing he could disappear into the floorboards. I turned on my heel, walked up to my office, and sat in front of my computer. Within minutes, I drafted my resignation letter. After submitting it to HR, I packed my things and handed over my projects to my deputy, Victoria. “We have worked together for years, so you know how to handle everything,” I told her. “If anything comes up, just call me.” Victoria, an older woman who had seen it all, sighed heavily. “Men are all the same, Vivian. They only behave when they are six feet under. If you hadn’t pulled all those late nights with him, his father would have never handed over the reins so early.” “I am not wasting my best years on a toxic man,” I replied. Back at the villa, I began packing my belongings. Halfway through, my phone buzzed with a message from Tony. Babe, long day at work. Let me take you out to a nice dinner. I replied with two words: Not happening. A flurry of messages immediately followed. Come on, babe. Are you still mad? I didn’t mean to forget your birthday. Give me a chance to make it up to you. I really want to make things right. He was acting as if we were still a happy couple, completely ignoring the ultimatum he had given me that morning. But since I had already made my decision, I decided to go. I wanted to discuss the division of our assets and get him to sign the divorce papers. But when I opened the door to the private dining room, my stomach dropped. Sitting at the table was my father, my stepmother, and Alyson. Tony immediately stood up from his seat next to Alyson. “Surprise! I know you only have me, so I wanted to use this opportunity to build a bridge and help you guys reconcile. Alyson wanted to keep it a secret to surprise you.” My birthday was officially ruined. “Vivian, we have been waiting for you,” Evelyn, my stepmother, said with a sweet smile as she stood up. “I always knew there was no grudge a family couldn’t overcome. Look, Richard, she came!” She reached out to hold my hand, acting as if we were a loving mother and daughter. My father sat in his chair, scoffing quietly, waiting for me to bow my head and apologize. I pulled my hand back. “Don’t touch me. You make my skin crawl.” Evelyn’s smile froze. Tony’s face darkened instantly. “Vivian! How dare you speak to your mother like that?” “Mother? Whose mother? Yours? Didn’t your mother die in a car crash years ago? Where did you dig up a new one?” Tony choked on his rage. “Vivian, I am trying to help you fix your family. Don’t be an ungrateful brat!” Alyson fake-intervened, placing a hand on Tony’s arm. “It’s Vivian’s birthday, don’t upset her.” She then turned to me, her voice dripping with artificial sweet sympathy. “Vivian, you ran away after college and never came back. Dad has been worried sick all these years, he’s just not good at showing it. Just apologize, and we can be a happy family again.” I remembered how they had moved into my home immediately after my mother’s suicide, making my life a living hell. If my mother hadn’t left me a small trust fund, I wouldn’t have even been able to afford college. My father’s harsh voice broke the silence. “Alyson, don’t bother. I have never begged anyone in my life.” Tony’s eyes locked onto mine, his voice dropping to an urgent whisper. “Apologize to your father right now.”

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1 On her twenty-eighth birthday, my older sister, Serena, signed her name on an organ donor registry. A month later, she was killed in a tragic car crash. My parents, unable to survive the crushing weight of their grief, followed her to the grave soon after. Five years later, Chicago’s wealthiest heirs, the Montgomery siblings, held their joint wedding on the exact same day. At one end of the crimson carpet, Finn and I stood in absolute silence, waiting as the Montgomery siblings slowly walked toward us from the other end. Finn and I locked eyes for a brief second, our gazes cold as shards of ice. Do not let them off the hook. … Today was the day the Montgomery heiress, Brenda, was marrying Finn. It was also the day her brother, Jack, was marrying me. As the siblings walked down the aisle arm-in-arm, the red rose petals scattered beneath their feet looked disturbingly like the blood pooled at my sister’s crash site five years ago. When the crowd cheered, prompting us to seal our vows with a kiss, the giant projector screens behind us suddenly crackled with static. The next second, the screens were flooded with graphic, sickening footage of Jack tangled naked with another woman, surrounded by an array of grotesque torture instruments. The images were so depraved and violent that they made the stomach churn. “Shut it off! Shut it off now!” Jack’s frantic roars clashed with the moans echoing from the speakers. The technical staff scrambled at the control panel, sweat pouring down their faces. “We can’t shut it down! We can’t locate the broadcast source!” “Pull the plug! Pull the damn power cord!” Brenda pulled me into her arms, trying to shield my tear-streaked face while glaring at her brother with absolute fury. I quietly peered over her shoulder at Finn, the man who had once been deeply in love with my sister. The dark, lethal vengeance in his eyes was identical to the look he wore five years ago in the cold room of the morgue. Finn and I had spent five agonizing years clawing our way into the inner circle of the Montgomery family, all for this very moment. My sister’s fatal accident was no accident. It was a calculated murder. She had to die so that two people could live: Brenda and Jack. We were here to make them pay. Brenda was a hopelessly romantic socialite, easily blinded and manipulated by Finn’s charm. Jack, however, was a different story. He was a notoriously wild, arrogant playboy. I held zero physical appeal for him. But I didn’t try to seduce him. Instead, I worked diligently as his father’s personal secretary for three years, remaining quiet, efficient, and entirely unbothered by office politics. I earned Charles Montgomery’s absolute trust, and he hand-picked me to be his future daughter-in-law. Jack had destroyed his own body through years of reckless debauchery. Even after receiving my sister’s kidney, he refused to slow down. Within six months, the organ began to fail, leaving him completely impotent. To satisfy his twisted, fragile ego, he resorted to torturing women in a secret basement chamber at Hillside Manor. “You ungrateful bastard!” Charles Montgomery gasped, his hand trembling so violently that his heart medication spilled onto the floor. The aging billionaire’s eyes rolled back, and he collapsed, unconscious, onto the stage. The grand ballroom erupted into total chaos. The wedding of the century had become the joke of the nation. Outside the emergency room, Brenda screamed at her brother. “You didn’t just give Father a stroke! You ruined my wedding!” Jack leaned against the wall, casually dragging on a cigarette. “If the old man kicks the bucket, how do you think we are splitting the inheritance?” Brenda slapped him hard across the face. “He is in surgery, and you are already wishing him dead! Do you have any conscience left?” “Cut the act,” Jack sneered, stepping into her space. “Like you aren’t counting the days until his will is read? I know exactly who you are. I am the only son in this family. You are just a daughter who is going to take her share and leave.” The siblings began clawing at each other right there in the hospital corridor. Finn and I stood in the shadows, watching them tear each other apart. Not enough. This is nowhere near enough. Charles’s surgery was a success, and he managed to cling to life. The moment he regained consciousness, he asked to see me alone. “Mary, my son is an absolute fool, but you must stay strong,” he rasped, reaching for my hand. “I will find out who leaked those videos. Men make mistakes, and with our family’s wealth, women will always throw themselves at him. I know you are sensible. At a time like this, you must stand by his side. No matter what those trashy girls do, your position as the lady of the Montgomery house is secure.” I wiped a tear from my eye and nodded slowly. “I understand, Father.” Charles moved quickly. He immediately ordered his chief assistant, Jude West, to handle the crisis. By that evening, the corporate legal team released a statement claiming the wedding footage was a malicious, AI-generated deepfake. They poured millions into shifting the public narrative, burying the scandal. It was the usual billionaire playbook. If they could cover up my sister’s murder as a simple traffic accident, manipulating the media was child’s play. With his father out of danger, Jack relaxed. To keep me quiet, he began trailing after me like a stray dog. “I won’t lie to you, I have certain tastes,” he said, offering a shameless grin. “But I care about you, Mary. I would never dream of putting you through that. That is why I find other women to blow off steam. Those cheap girls are nothing compared to you. You are my wife, chosen by my father.” The fact that he could say something so depraved with a smile made my skin crawl. “I have always looked the other way regarding your lifestyle,” I replied, keeping my voice flat. “But I have one demand: we maintain our public image as a devoted couple.” His constant absence suited me perfectly. It meant he would never touch me. Jack nodded eagerly, clearly relieved. “Of course, of course. I’ll do whatever you want. But the will, Mary! The will is everything right now.” He leaned closer, trying to look endearing. “My father trusts you more than anyone. Can you dig around and see what he’s planning?” His sudden affection, as expected, came with a price tag. “If I were you,” I murmured, “I would focus on playing nice with your sister. She is your blood, after all. When your father passes, she might be the one deciding your place in the company.” Jack’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that? Is he giving the company to Brenda?” Instead of answering, I walked toward the door and picked up Brenda’s Siamese cat. “Your sister asked me to take her cat to the groomer before we head to the hospital to see your father. Do you want to come?” Before I could finish, Jack snatched the cat from my arms. His face contorted with pure rage as he threw the animal violently onto the hardwood floor and stomped on it with his heavy boot. “Who does she think she is?” he screamed, his face red. “Our father isn’t even dead yet, and she’s already acting like the master of this estate! Sending you on errands like a servant is a direct slap to my face! I am going to show her exactly who she is dealing with!” The poor animal was dead within seconds, its body crushed. Still unsatisfied, Jack picked up the bloody corpse, stormed into Brenda’s bedroom, and threw it directly onto her silk bedsheets. I watched from the doorway, a cold smile touching my lips. Keep fighting. Destroy each other. When Brenda returned home and saw the bloody mess on her bed, she screamed and fainted from the shock. If Finn hadn’t been there to administer emergency medical aid, her weak heart might have given out right then. But we couldn’t let her die so easily. Not yet. The heart beating inside her chest belonged to my sister. Charles Montgomery was a monster, and his children were his karma. One had a failing heart; the other had ruined kidneys. My sister had only wanted to help others after her death, but her kindness had been twisted into a death sentence by this greedy family. I urged Finn to take Brenda to the hospital, but he refused. “She is just in shock. We picked up her medication today. She just needs to rest.” He pulled a bottle from his bag, unscrewed the cap, and fed her the pills. Finn had been a talented surgeon before he abandoned his career to join the Montgomery Group. Since Brenda adored him, she trusted his medical advice blindly. Even the arrogant Jack showed up later, uncharacteristically bowing his head and offering a quiet apology to his sister. But knowing Jack, I knew he was merely biding his time to strike back. My suspicions were confirmed three nights later. Jack woke me up in the dead of night, his face twisted with manic excitement. “Mary, you won’t believe what I found,” he whispered, gripping my shoulder. “I went to swap Brenda’s heart medication to get rid of her, but I caught Finn doing it first!” My heart stopped. I forced myself to stay calm. “Don’t be ridiculous. They are married. Why would he do that?” “I am telling you the truth!” Jack insisted. “I saw him with my own eyes. He swapped her actual pills with harmless vitamins. The bastard is trying to kill her slowly so he can inherit her share of the estate! And she thinks he is her prince charming. If I tell her the truth, the shock alone will kill her.” Suddenly, a wave of intense nausea hit me. I pushed him away, stumbling to the bathroom as my stomach violently turned. “Disgusting! You got it all over me!” Jack grumbled, wiping his shirt. Then, his eyes widened as a sudden realization hit him. He grabbed my wrist. “Are you pregnant?” Without waiting for the morning, he dragged me out of the house and forced me into his car, speeding toward the private clinic. As we pulled out of the driveway, I glanced at the rearview mirror. High up on the villa’s balcony, Finn stood half-hidden behind the curtains, watching our car disappear into the dark. The test results came back positive. I was three months pregnant. Jack completely forgot about Finn’s betrayal. He was ecstatic, convinced this child would secure his place as the sole heir in his father’s will. He immediately called Brenda and Finn to the hospital, wanting to gloat in front of them. When Charles heard the news, he wept tears of joy and immediately instructed Jude to bring his estate lawyer to the clinic. Jude gently placed a pillow behind my lower back before slipping out to make the call. I had personally trained Jude. He was meticulous, loyal, and incredibly sharp. After I began dating Jack, I had stepped down from my role as Charles’s secretary and handed the position to Jude, moving myself to run one of the Montgomery family’s charitable foundations. “Congratulations, sister-in-law,” Brenda said, her voice dripping with venom. The jealousy on her face was impossible to hide. A new baby meant a massive portion of the estate would be carved out of her share. “Thank you, Brenda,” I replied with a warm, innocent smile. “I hope you and Finn will have good news to share soon, too.” I met Finn’s gaze. His eyes held a mixture of shock, confusion, and a quiet, lingering tenderness. “We will,” Finn said, nodding at me with a soft, hidden smile. Later that afternoon, Finn cornered me in the secluded greenhouse behind the clinic. “The baby…” he breathed, his hands trembling. “Yes,” I confessed without hesitation. “It’s yours.” On the anniversary of Serena’s death three months ago, we had both drowned our sorrows in alcohol, letting our shared grief consume us. Afterward, Finn had been riddled with guilt, swearing to take responsibility for me once our vengeance was complete. “But I don’t plan on keeping it,” I added, my voice turning to ice.

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1 I was having a drink and chatting with some friends when Robert walked in. I had been planning to propose to him once the party wrapped up. My fingers nervously brushed against the small velvet box containing our matching bands in my pocket, my heart fluttering with anticipation. But then, Robert walked through the door with a meticulously styled woman on his arm. She wore a royal blue silk dress, looking elegant and poised. Robert’s eyes softened as he looked down at her, a tender smile playing on his lips—a look he had never once given me. “Nora,” Robert said, his tone casual but his eyes locking onto mine with a sharp, warning glare, as if terrified I would make a scene. “Say hello to your future sister-in-law.” I froze, the words trapping themselves in my throat. Nate quickly stepped in to break the sudden silence. “Robert, keeping secrets from us? You didn’t tell us you had a girlfriend.” Robert let out a soft laugh. “She just returned from her studies abroad yesterday. I wanted to bring her to meet everyone right away.” He gently caressed her hand, acting as if she were the most precious thing in the world. Another friend chimed in. “Ah, this must be Molly, your first love. I still remember on Nora’s birthday years ago, when Molly left for her residency, you got so drunk we had to carry you home. You finally got your girl back. Congratulations!” My birthday. How ironic. I stood there, my mind going completely blank as a dull, throbbing ache started behind my eyes. I was a complete and utter fool. Robert and I had grown up as next-door neighbors. Our families had been close for generations. He was older than me, my childhood protector, and I had loved him for as long as I could remember. I loved his wild, carefree laughter; I loved watching him play basketball in the summer heat; I loved how, despite his forgetfulness, he always remembered to bring back my favorite pastries on his way home. I had convinced myself that he must feel the same way. So, on my eighteenth birthday, I gathered my courage and confessed my feelings. His response was a cold, polite rejection. “Nora, I only see you as a sister. It isn’t like that.” But I was young and stubborn. I believed that if I stayed by his side, he would eventually see me. Since he didn’t date anyone else over the next few years, I held onto that hope. After my confession, he continued to treat me just as he always had. On my twentieth birthday, we both drank a little too much. Robert took me to a nearby boutique hotel. He gently wiped my face and hands with a warm towel and fed me water. Looking up at him, I lost my head and kissed him. He froze, a dark, unreadable emotion crossing his face, before he leaned down and kissed me back with a fierce, almost desperate intensity. When I woke up the next morning to our clothes scattered across the floor, my initial panic quickly melted into a quiet, tentative happiness. After that night, it became a habit. He would visit my apartment every few days. In the dark, we would lose ourselves in each other. During those intense, quiet hours, he would murmur sweet, breathless words, kissing my neck and telling me he loved me. I thought my dream had finally come true. But he never officially asked me to be his girlfriend. When I finally gathered the courage to ask him about us, he remained silent for a long moment before murmuring, “Nora, we are doing all of this. Do I really need to spell it out?” I took his silence as a secret understanding. I foolishly believed we would eventually marry. Now, looking at the man I had loved for a decade, I realized I had never truly known him. It felt as though a bucket of freezing water had been poured over my head. Robert stared at me, his voice dropping slightly. “Nora, I asked you to greet your sister-in-law.” He was forcing me to bow my head, to accept the sisterly role he had assigned to me. Molly looked at me properly for the first time, her eyes scanning me with a cold, analytical gaze. I forced a tight, mocking smile and nodded at her. “I have to go.” Ignoring the protests of my friends, I grabbed my bag and bolted toward the exit, desperate to escape the suffocating room. Robert caught up to me in the lobby, grabbing my arm. I stared down at his hand on my skin with such cold disgust that he slowly let go. “Nora, this is Molly’s first time meeting the group,” Robert said, his tone defensive. “You can’t just humiliate her like that. Come back inside and apologize.” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Apologize? For what? Where do you get the nerve to ask me that, Robert?” A flash of guilt crossed his eyes, but his voice remained firm. “I’m sorry about the past, Nora. But we were never actually dating. We are both consenting adults; do we really need to get dramatic about it?” “My mistake for not understanding your version of adult boundaries,” I said, my voice turning to ice. “It was my own fault for being blind. But do me a favor and stay away from me.” I took a step forward, then paused and looked back at him. “And don’t worry. I won’t tell your precious girlfriend about what we did in the dark. I have no interest in fighting over garbage.” Robert’s eyes darkened with anger. “Nora, even if I have a partner, I will still take care of you like a little sister. Stop throwing a tantrum.” I looked at his handsome face, the sharp jawline, the dark eyes that I had adored for ten years. He looked exactly the same, yet he was a complete stranger. I wiped a stray tear from my cheek. “You don’t deserve to.” I walked out of the hotel and pulled the velvet box from my bag, throwing the matching bands into the decorative fountain without a second thought. Even though I knew he was rotten to the core, the realization still tore a hole in my chest. I drove down to the coastline, needing to clear my head. I sat on a wooden bench, watching the dark waves crash against the shore as the tears finally spilled over. Suddenly, a crack of thunder rattled the sky, and a torrential downpour began. I didn’t move. The rain was perfect; it hid my tears and my humiliation. Then, the rain stopped hitting my head. I looked up and saw a large black umbrella. Standing beside me was a tall, imposing man in a tailored charcoal suit, his sharp, aristocratic face looking down at me with quiet concern. I scrambled to my feet. “Dominic? What are you doing here?” Dominic Lu was Robert’s older half-brother, born to their father’s late first wife. After his mother passed, their father had married Robert’s mother. Over the years, Dominic had been sent abroad to manage the company’s European market. Everyone in our social circle whispered that their father favored Robert’s mother, meaning Robert would inherit the family empire while Dominic was effectively exiled. Dominic had always been a serious, highly disciplined, and intimidating figure. When Robert and I were kids causing trouble, one look from Dominic would make us freeze and behave. Yet, he had never been cruel to us; he used to bring us rare chocolates and toys from his travels. Dominic looked down at me, his deep voice incredibly gentle. “Why are you crying, Nora? Did Robert do something to you?” I felt a sudden wave of embarrassment. “No, Dominic. I’m just having a bad day.” He didn’t pry. “Let me take you home.” Dominic had always been a man of few words, so his quiet concern felt incredibly grounding. I followed him to his car. “When did you get back?” I asked as he started the engine. “Are you staying long?” “I arrived yesterday,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the road. “I have to leave in a few days.” “So soon?” Dominic glanced at me, a faint, rare smile touching his lips. “Why? Do you want me to stay?” His voice was incredibly low and rich, and the sudden shift in his tone caught me off guard. “Of course,” I stammered, trying to keep it casual. “Robert and I always wish you could stay longer.” Dominic’s smile faded, and he turned his attention back to the road. The atmosphere in the car suddenly felt a few degrees colder. He dropped me off at my family’s villa. I crawled into bed after a hot shower and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. Over the next two months, I kept to myself. At first, I had no energy for anything, but slowly, the pain began to fade. I found myself thinking of Robert less and less. Most women in our circle were married off in arranged matches by their mid-twenties, but my parents had always wanted me to marry for love. They never pressured me, always telling me that their little princess deserved the absolute best. Seeing my quiet melancholy, my mother eventually approached me one afternoon. “Nora, a friend of mine has a wonderful son she wants to introduce to you,” she said gently. “Would you be open to meeting him? Just as friends.” I knew my parents had seen the social media posts of Robert high-profile displays of affection for Molly. Robert was showing the world what it looked like when he actually loved someone. “I’d love to, Mom,” I replied. My mother looked surprised by my quick agreement. “You don’t have to force yourself, sweetheart.” “I want to go,” I said, and I meant it. The next evening, I drove to a high-end restaurant called The Hourglass. But when I was shown to the private table, I froze. Sitting across from me was Dominic. “Dominic?” I stammered, my hands freezing on my purse. “What are you doing here? I thought you went back to Europe.” Dominic’s dark eyes softened as he smiled. “I decided I didn’t want to leave. Are you disappointed it’s me?” “No! No, of course not,” I said quickly, sitting down. “I’m just incredibly surprised.” Dominic leaned forward slightly, his expression turning serious. “Dominic Lu. Master’s from Yale, twenty-eight, no vice or bad habits. I have a successful firm abroad, and I’ve officially returned to take over the Lu Group. Do I meet the standards to court you, Miss Nora?” I stared at him, my heart skipping a beat. I was shocked that he was taking over the family business, but even more shocked by his proposal. “Dominic… did you know the blind date was with me?” “Of course,” he said, his eyes shining with a quiet warmth. “Nora, can we try dating?” Dominic had always been an untouchable figure in my eyes, someone far out of my league. But looking at his sharp, elegant features and the intense sincerity in his eyes, I found myself nodding. I figured that if I had to marry eventually, marrying Dominic wouldn’t be a bad deal at all. Sensing my lingering gaze on him, Dominic let out a soft chuckle. “Are you satisfied with what you see, Nora?” His teasing tone was a far cry from the polite distance he used to keep. My face flushed, and I quickly looked away. “You didn’t use to talk to me like this.” “You’ll have to get used to it,” he murmured. After dinner, we walked along the river. Dominic stopped and gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind my ear. My heart hammered against my ribs, and I instinctively flinched away from the unfamiliar intimacy. Dominic’s hand paused in the air before slowly dropping to his side. “Nora, I am your boyfriend now,” he said, a trace of vulnerability in his voice. “Don’t push me away.” “I’m sorry,” I said softly, feeling a pang of guilt. “I’m just not used to this yet.” Dominic let out a quiet laugh. “Then we will take it slow, my girlfriend.” He reached out and gently slid his fingers between mine, locking our hands together. His palm was warm and dry, and the scent of his woodsy cologne wrapped around me, making me feel incredibly safe. For the next two months, we spent almost all our free time together. We took long walks, tried new restaurants, and on weekends, I would read or paint in his study while he worked. Despite our different worlds, we fell into a comfortable, effortless rhythm. Dominic spoiled me completely, respecting my boundaries while anticipating my every need. I had never felt so cherished. One afternoon, we were walking through a sunlit park. The golden light caught the sharp angles of his face, and I realized with a sudden jolt that I was falling for him. My phone rang, breaking the quiet moment. It was Nate. “Nora, where are you? Robert’s birthday party started an hour ago.” Before I could reply, the phone was snatched on the other end, and Robert’s voice came through the speaker. “Nora, are you really not coming to my birthday?” My good mood vanished instantly. “Your birthday has nothing to do with me,” I said, my voice cold. “Stop calling me.” I hung up. At the KTV lounge, Robert stared at his phone in disbelief. He had assumed I was just playing hard to get over the last few weeks. He was used to me throwing tantrums whenever another woman got too close, but I always came back. Molly leaned against his shoulder, feeding him a strawberry. “Is Nora really that important to you, Robert?” Robert kissed her cheek. “Of course not. She is just a sister. You are the only one who matters.” But as the night wore on and the party ended, I never showed up. For the first time, a cold wave of panic washed over him. He began calling my phone repeatedly. Exhausted by the constant buzzing, I finally picked up. “What do you want, Robert?” “Nora, I’m drunk,” he mumbled, his voice slurred. “Can you come pick me up?” “Do you not speak English?” I snapped. “Call your girlfriend. If you call me again, I am blocking your number.” I hung up and let out a long sigh. Dominic raised an eyebrow. “Is everything alright?” “I’m fine,” I said, trying to shake off the irritation. Dominic stopped walking and turned to me. “Nora, you don’t have to tell me anything if you aren’t ready. But I want you to know that I am always here for you. Always.” His quiet strength instantly soothed my frayed nerves. But my phone began to buzz again—this time with messages from our mutual friends, clearly sent at Robert’s behest. I knew this wouldn’t stop until I drew a hard line. I looked up at Dominic. “Can you come with me to settle this once and for all?” Dominic smiled, his eyes softening. “Of course. A boyfriend is always at your service.” We drove to the private KTV lounge where the party was being held. When I pushed open the heavy door, Robert was sitting in the center of the room. The moment he saw me walk in, a smug, relieved look crossed his face. He assumed his plan had worked. But then, Dominic walked in behind me, and Robert’s smile froze. Robert had always been intimidated by his older brother. Dominic’s recent takeover of the Lu Group had left the company board completely loyal to him, stripping Robert of any real power. The rest of our friends quickly stood up to greet Dominic with quiet respect. Dominic gave them a brief, polite nod and stepped back, letting me take the lead. Robert looked at me, a trace of hurt in his eyes. “Nora, why are you only getting here now?” “Robert, I am saying this for the last time,” I said, my voice steady and clear. “Do not ever contact me again.” Robert’s irritation flared. “Nora, stop throwing a tantrum. I’ve already given you an out. What more do you want?” I looked at him with pity. “I have a boyfriend now, Robert.” I reached back and took Dominic’s hand. Dominic stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Robert with an icy glare. “Robert,” Dominic said, his deep voice carrying a dangerous edge. “From now on, I don’t want to see you harassing your future sister-in-law again.”

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1 I’m the entertainment industry’s resident villainess. Three steps, a slap. Five steps, a punch. After cooperating with David for the N-th time, the moment he saw me, his face subconsciously tilted toward my hand. I was utterly horrified. The internet was equally horrified. Wait, is this normal? How did a few projects train him into this? He’s practically a puppy! God, me next! Step on me, big sister! I had a reputation in the industry that everyone knew. The Go-To Bad Woman. I’d played the homewrecker running through a rainstorm for “love”, the tyrannical duchess who slapped ten maids in a single scene, the toxic wife who ruined her parents, her husband, and herself, alongside a countless array of other wicked characters. Initially, my agent barely paid attention to me. It was only after I played so many villainesses that I went viral for being delightfully wicked, with my clips spreading like wildfire, that he finally realized I existed. My agent spent days pulling his hair out, staring at scripts without knowing which way to steer my career. Nurturing my talent had suddenly become an incredibly difficult puzzle. “How did you even land those past roles?” he asked. “I just went to open casting calls,” I replied honestly. He looked suspicious. “Open casting calls?” He asked me to show him how I did it. Since I hadn’t gone to drama school and lacked professional guidance, I had survived in the industry purely on my face and sheer luck. He still couldn’t comprehend how I actually booked the jobs. “Which one do you want to see, boss?” I asked meekly. He pondered for a moment. “Show me that tyrannical duchess.” I closed my eyes. When I opened them again, the atmosphere shifted. “You worthless tramp!” My agent flinched, his shoulders tensing. “I saw you lurking around the parlor earlier,” I sneered, my voice dripping with icy venom. “What’s the matter? Looking for my husband?” I snapped out of it instantly, returning to my quiet, timid self. “Boss, I’m done.” My agent wiped a bead of cold sweat from his forehead. “Right… great. Well, just take a look at the scripts we can get our hands on and choose whatever you like.” 2 I was getting restless. A person couldn’t play the villain forever. The past was the past, but now, if I had a choice, I wanted to play a good person. I couldn’t wait to pick a 1920s Prohibition-era period drama, selecting the only character who was supposed to be a pure, innocent white lily. During the audition, the director didn’t look particularly pleased. “Gemma, try it one more time.” I was sweating bullets. I tried my absolute best to perform according to my understanding of the character, reading lines with another actress who was playing the antagonist. The director observed us closely. After a moment, he suddenly spoke up. “How about this? The two of you swap scripts and do it again.” The other actress and I silently exchanged glances, then handed over our pages. Her character had roughly the same amount of screen time as mine. When we ran the scene again, a pure white lily and a fiercely calculating dark lotus came alive in the room. The director’s eyes lit up, and he slammed his hand on the desk, standing up. “Now that is what I’m talking about!” I had walked into the room carrying a lily, but I walked out holding nightshade. The other actress let out a long sigh of relief, quietly falling into step beside me as we left. “You’re Gemma, right?” she asked curiously. I nodded. She scratched her head, looking a little embarrassed. “Your acting was incredible. You were so deliciously wicked that it made my skin crawl. For a second, I thought we actually had some deep, ancient vendetta. You’re honestly born for these roles.” I remained silent, weeping in my heart over my tragic fate. 3 The new project was officially announced. The comments section was in absolute chaos. There were fans supporting their favorite leads, people just watching the drama unfold, and then there were comments about me. Gemma is playing the villainess again. We’re used to it at this point. Honestly, it’s kind of hot. Look at that promotional poster. The way she looks down at us like we’re dirt… it’s amazing! I quietly closed the comments. My phone buzzed. It was a message from David. Looking forward to working together again. I let out a miserable sigh. To be honest, if I were David, I would run the other way the moment I saw my face. I had worked with David at least five or six times now. In every different project, I played the exact same brand of wicked. In every different project, he was always the exact same brand of saint. The ultimate golden boy of television. Devoted, gentle, and constantly getting slapped by me. Our scenes together consisted almost entirely of me slapping him, kicking him, or screaming at him. When I played the mistress, he was my devoted pursuer, getting kicked, beaten, and used. When I played the duchess, he was my sweet cousin, whom I manipulated until he was stripped of his title and exiled. And this time… Oh, no. It was the seductive stepmother. 4 It was incredibly awkward. In our last project, we were a detective and a criminal. This time, I had to sit on his lap and slap him. The moment the director yelled “Cut!”, I scrambled off David’s lap as fast as my legs could carry me. “I’m so sorry, David!” David’s left cheek was flushed bright red. I was frantic, fussing over him with a bottle of water and an ice pack. “Did I hit you too hard?” David shook his head. The scene was intense, and we had agreed beforehand to make the slap real to get the best take, so I had put a bit too much force into it. The director was thrilled, but I was terrified of getting dragged by his fans. What if his fans outside the set saw this? I looked around guiltily, spotting a few young girls staring in our direction with glowing eyes. I silently shifted my body to block David’s reddened cheek, looking up at the sky and whistling casually. “Gemma,” David called out suddenly. He wanted to discuss the slap we just did. “You can actually go a bit harder next time. It’d look more natural if my head snapped back more. It’ll make the scene pop.” I was dumbfounded. Was he serious? Did he really have to be this dedicated to the craft? David’s expression was completely earnest. He was incredibly handsome, and with his flushed cheek and dark eyes, there was something undeniably destabilizing about the sight. I silently opened my contacts and edited his nickname. I added a few words. David (The Ultimate Workaholic) David spent the entire afternoon either getting beaten or screamed at by me. He usually played noble, heroic characters, but this time he had chosen a rare, morally grey role. Our characters were partners in crime who also constantly double crossed each other. My character, naturally, was the more ruthless of the two. I could already visualize the grand premiere. It was going to be a beautiful symphony of internet outrage. My feelings toward David were complex, a mix of mutual respect and a tiny bit of jealousy. He had played so many virtuous heroes that all the fan edits of him on social media were set to romantic music, whereas mine were always compilations of me committing fictional crimes. When we wrapped for the day, David walked ahead while I lagged behind. The fans waiting outside the studio gates stood up in a massive wave. I ducked my head, chanting a silent prayer. You can’t see me, you can’t see me… “Gemma! Big sister!” I looked up. A few girls were waving at me, jumping up and down. They looked familiar, they were the same girls from earlier. They cupped their hands around their mouths like megaphones. “You’re so beautiful!” “Your acting is incredible!” “We’ll always support you, Gemma!” I froze in my tracks. They were my fans. I actually had fans waiting to see me after work. Taking advantage of the crew’s distraction, I ran over happily to squeeze their hands and say hello. They clearly hadn’t expected me to actually approach them, and their faces were filled with shock. Before my agent dragged me away, I caught one of them whispering about how good I smelled. As I climbed into the car, they yelled in unison. “Gemma, you smell like heaven!” My face flushed a deep pink. 5 Work consumed my entire life. Having projects to shoot meant keeping food on the table. Discussing the script with David was always incredibly comfortable. He would teach me how to immerse myself in the emotions, helping me elevate my performance to a new level. He really was a trained theater actor. Do you have any thoughts on this scene? he texted. I thought about the stepmother character, letting my mind wander into the darker psychological elements of the role. I was thinking about her complex emotions, specifically her toxic, almost possessive hold over her stepson. David agreed. Yes, her childhood trauma makes her crave control over everything within her reach. The stepson was slowly being led astray by his stepmother. A naive young man stepping into a beautifully disguised trap, realizing too late that they would both sink into ruin together. This kind of taboo dynamic was always a bit controversial, but David had his own perspective. Don’t worry, the script is tight, the pacing is fast, and the characters are complex. She isn’t just evil for the sake of being evil. She wasn’t just evil. I was only now reaching a level in my career where I could actually land these layered, complex roles. In the beginning, I only booked one dimensional, cartoonish villains. Three steps, a slap. Five steps, a punch. I’d have no real emotional connection to the main characters, I just existed to make their lives miserable because the writer felt like it. I often wondered what went through those writers’ heads. Even so, playing those roles had been oddly therapeutic. David had high hopes for this new project. He comforted me. I trust the audience will see the depth in your performance. I rubbed my nose. The audience would definitely see my hand connecting with his face first. I typed back cautiously. Are you absolutely sure those slaps don’t hurt? It took a while for David to reply. They’re fine. Maybe you can send me some soothing face masks? Then, David sent a voice message. I tapped it, and his soft, low chuckle filled the quiet room. “It’s fine. Your hands are sweet. It doesn’t hurt.” Smooth. Too smooth. Our chemistry on set grew more natural with each passing day. One afternoon, he casually asked, “We’ve worked together five or six times now, which means we’ve known each other for years. Since we’re such good friends, do you want to grab dinner after we wrap?” I scratched my head. Since when were we such good friends? A smart actress who maintained a healthy dose of caution in the industry knew better than to easily agree to private dinners with co-stars. “I don’t think—” David spoke in a calm, breezy tone. “I know a really fantastic, private bistro downtown.” “Actually, I really should—” “My treat. Private car, door-to-door service, and the food is legendary.” My mouth took a sharp detour. “What time are we leaving?” “Now.” I couldn’t help but wonder how David knew my exact weakness. I had no expensive hobbies, I just loved good food. 6 The project finally wrapped. I had finished playing another villainess, and I felt completely refreshed. There was something about tapping into that dark energy that left me feeling energized, as if years of pent-up frustrations had been safely released through the character. I recalled the early days of my career, when I dragged myself through countless failed pilots before finally catching a break with a minor villain role. It was a brilliantly wicked character, and I had poured my absolute soul into making her as terrible as possible. The audience hated her with a passion. Even though some reasonable viewers tried to separate the actress from the character, it didn’t stop a massive wave of online hate from crashing down on me. As a small-time actress with no backing, my comments section was quickly overrun. Countless people begged me to stop acting. But I couldn’t do that. I watched the chaos unfold, and immediately signed on for my next villain role. With the algorithm pushing my name, I had to strike while the iron was hot. Soon, directors realized they had a go-to actress for their worst female antagonists. If they could write it, I could play it. By the time I was twenty-six, I had played almost every variation of a bad woman on the studio lots. My performances were so memorable that the audience’s attitude slowly began to shift. Gemma is amazing, but why does that gorgeous face only play evil characters? Eventually, even casual viewers started defending me. The moment her face appears on screen, you know someone is getting slapped! She’s too pretty. I can’t even stay mad at her characters. Let’s count how many times she slaps someone in this episode. The audience had slowly leaned into the absurdity of it all. I lounged on my couch, reading a message from David. There’s a role in a new drama that would be perfect for you. I recommended you to the director, do you want to audition? I sat up straight, sniffing back a wave of emotion. David, how did you know I was running out of money? 7 David was practically my lucky charm. We were in entirely different leagues, as he was a permanent fixture in A-list leading roles. During our very first project together, I played an assassin disguised as a maid whose sole job was to choke David with a wire before he managed to overpower me. I had smiled weakly when I read the script. The entire main cast was on set that day, all of them established stars, while I was the only fresh face. I had taken a deep breath. “Mr. David, please forgive me in advance.” David had been incredibly gracious. “Don’t worry about it. Just do whatever feels comfortable for you.” Under the watchful eyes of the entire crew, I had performed the scene seamlessly. The director later described my physical acting as highly professional. We got it in one take, no resets needed. There was a popular young starlet named Phoebe whose acting was frequently criticized by viewers. She had quietly approached me in private to ask for advice. I had comforted her. “You think I’m doing well, but the truth is, I’m just stuck in this villain comfort zone. If you threw me into a heroic, sweet role, I’d probably look completely lost.” She gasped. “A comfort zone? A villainess comfort zone?” I nodded. “Exactly. You, on the other hand, are perfect for those beautiful, tragic characters who get written off quickly. A few minutes of screen time, and the audience will remember you forever.” Phoebe actually took my advice to heart. From then on, she became the go-to beautiful casualty in various dramas. She arrived quickly, and her characters died quickly. The audience’s complaints about her acting began to dwindle, replaced by discussions about her tragic characters. I felt quite proud of her. She was a quick learner. Phoebe was thrilled and we became close friends. She started sharing casting opportunities for villain roles with me, becoming my other lucky charm. We grew so close that she would regularly crash on my sofa to watch my dramas with me. “My god, Gemma, you are so evil.” She grabbed a handful of chips, pointing dramatically at the TV screen. “If I didn’t know you in real life, I’d be terrified of you.” I crossed my arms. “That is the power of a professional villainess.” She giggled, leaning over to nudge my shoulder. “Let me rephrase that. Sister, you smell amazing.” I immediately retreated three feet, rubbing the goosebumps on my arms and pulling out a prop wooden stake from under the cushion. “Who possessed you? Get away from me.” Phoebe rolled her eyes, waving her phone in front of my face. “You’re so boring. Look, your after-work video is going viral, and you haven’t even noticed. Where did you even get a wooden stake?” I tossed the stake aside and took her phone. It was indeed the video of me with my fans from the other day. The audio was a bit muffled, but one loud, enthusiastic shout of “Gemma, you smell like heaven!” echoed clearly through the speaker. My hand trembled. A viral video of me. “I actually have a viral video,” I murmured, feeling a rush of warmth. “That’s not the point. The point is how sweet you are in real life.” I quietly pretended not to hear her, but that night, after slipping under my covers, I secretly scrolled through the comments. The comments were flooded with people asking what perfume I used. To be honest, Gemma’s beauty often makes you forget how awful her characters are. She actually makes me want to protect her… I think I’m falling for her. She’s so cute in real life! One second she’s a ruthless villainess, and the next she’s speaking so softly to her fans. The duality is insane. Following her seems so rewarding… It seemed I was actually starting to gain some real traction. 8 My previous brush with viral fame had been a brief spark that went out quickly. This time, however, felt different. The warmth was steady and growing. David sent a message soon after. Congratulations. I quickly replied. It’s just a temporary trend. People are probably just curious and will move on soon. Not that I’m trying to curse myself, of course. I was just trying to be humble. David sent a voice note, his voice light with amusement. “I understand.” He didn’t understand. I was nervous out of my mind. Over the years, I had played so many unhinged characters and endured so much criticism, and I had learned to handle all of it with a thick skin. But suddenly being embraced by the public made me feel incredibly vulnerable, as if my private self was being exposed. I had only ever seen famous actors get mobbed by fans, recognized everywhere they went. I wondered what that felt like. Wait. The perfect source of information was right in front of me. I opened our chat and nudged David. David replied almost instantly. ? David, rumor has it you’re incredibly famous, I wrote. There was no response from his end. I grew impatient and nudged him again. David? Where did you go? You’re going to make me lose my mind, he finally replied. He had a decent sense of humor. If you suddenly got a massive wave of attention, how would you feel? I asked. Exactly how you’re feeling right now, he wrote. I tried to deflect. I’m not talking about myself. I’m asking for a friend. Tell your friend to get ready. The internet is about to dig up her entire past. I stared at the screen in silence. I had almost forgotten the golden rule of the entertainment industry: the moment you start getting popular, the internet begins digging up your history.

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