On Valentine’s Day, I accidentally opened my fiancée Seraphina’s package — inside was scandalous limited-edition lingerie. I canceled all meetings, rushed home, and waited excitedly. But she never returned. Then I saw a post from Leo, the college kid she sponsors. His caption read: “She says I’m like a book she can’t put down… one she just wants to fall into bed with.” The photo showed a woman in the same lingerie curled in his arms. Her face was blurred, but I knew her body. It was Seraphina. Furious, I called her. Leo answered, smug: “She’s not to be disturbed. Tonight she’s all mine.” “Tell her I’m her ex-fiancé,” I snarled. “She can collect her things tomorrow.” Then I called my assistant: “Wire the $100 million bailout for the Vances to Croft Enterprises instead. Tell Victoria Croft it’s a wedding gift.” 1 The phone on my desk had rung 108 times before I finally picked it up. Seraphina’s voice, frayed and frantic, exploded from the speaker. “Rico Thorne, where is the hundred million? The deadline is today! Without that capital, Vance Industries is finished!” she roared. “Wire the money now! If my family’s company takes even a small hit because of this, you can forget about marrying me, even if you offer a billion-dollar dowry!” I leaned back in my chair, scrawling my signature on the approval form for the hundred-million-dollar transfer to Croft Enterprises. Only then did I leisurely lift the phone to my ear. “Fine by me,” I said, my voice ice. “You!” Seraphina fell silent, stunned. I could almost hear her forcing the fury down, her voice shifting into something softer, something that was meant to sound like an explanation. “Rico, stop fooling around,” she cooed. “I was at Leo’s university yesterday, scouting for talent. I just let him hold my phone for a bit. He’s just a kid, he likes to play games. You’re not taking him seriously, are you?” I glanced down at the investigation file my assistant had just delivered. The cold, hard facts printed in black and white finally killed the last lingering piece of my heart. I let out a bitter laugh. “A misunderstanding?” “You’re obsessed with your privacy. You never even let me touch your phone, yet he can just answer your calls whenever he pleases?” “He’s a fresh graduate, Seraphina, yet you secretly installed him as a department manager in my company. You even threatened my staff to keep it from me.” My voice started to rise, fueled by the memory of the night before. “I opened your package by mistake yesterday. I waited all night for you, my heart full of hope, only to find you wearing that for him, in his bed.” “Tell me,” I spat, my voice cracking with rage, “what part of you is still worth a hundred million dollars?” She gasped, a sharp intake of breath on the other end of the line. It took her a long moment to piece together a defense. “He—he answered my phone without asking. I already scolded him for it, I promise it won’t happen again,” she stammered. “And Leo graduated top of his class from a prestigious university! He’s a rare talent. I put him in your company to help you secure him, to give him a chance to grow.” “As for the lingerie… that was a genuine misunderstanding. His school was having a graduation party last night. That photo was just a joke. I already made him delete the post,” she insisted. “You’re a man of status, Rico. Why would you get worked up over a college kid?” I glanced at my CFO, who was trembling in front of my desk, and a cold sneer twisted my lips. “Do you think I’m an idiot, Seraphina?” “You said it yourself, he just graduated. Yet he’s pulling a six-figure salary meant for a senior executive.” “And you siphoned millions from my corporate accounts—without my knowledge—to set up a private company for him. A company that’s now actively bidding against mine for contracts!” The anger I’d been suppressing erupted. I slammed my fist on the desk, the sound echoing through the office. “You have three days to return every last cent. Otherwise, I’ll see you in court!” Panic finally broke through her façade, her voice pitching high and thin. “Don’t say that! We’re about to be married, to be family! What’s yours is mine, isn’t it? I was just investing in a promising venture.” “If you’re really this upset, I’ll… I’ll find a way. I’ll make him sell the company. Whatever it takes to make you happy…” I couldn’t listen to another second of her lies. I ended the call. She hadn’t even stepped foot into my family home, yet she was already treating my assets like her personal piggy bank. She had crossed a line, a fatal one. No apology, no excuse could ever fix this. Late that night, I drove aimlessly through the city streets before finally turning toward the waterfront mansion at Azure Bay. The fifty-million-dollar villa I’d bought specifically for us, our marital home. Now, it was just a monument to her betrayal. There was no reason to keep it. I planned to take a few photos and list it for sale. But when I pushed open the front door, a scene unfolded that sent fresh flames of rage licking up my spine. 2 Silk stockings were strewn across the marble floor. A pair of stiletto heels lay abandoned by the sofa. The air was thick with the cloying, sickly-sweet scent of cheap perfume and sweat. I didn’t need to guess what had happened here. My fury simmered just beneath the surface, threatening to boil over as I stalked toward the master bedroom, the door slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw him. Leo. Dressed in my wedding tuxedo. And holding him was Seraphina, radiant and beautiful in the wedding gown I had commissioned for her. The rage exploded. I kicked the door open with a deafening crash. “What the hell are you doing?” They sprang apart, flustered. Seraphina’s lipstick was smeared, her eyes wide with guilt as she avoided my gaze. But she was the first to recover, stepping forward to break the suffocating silence. “Rico! What are you doing here?” “Don’t misunderstand,” she said quickly. “Leo felt terrible about using your money for his company. He knows you’re busy, so he just offered to help me try on the wedding outfits to make sure they fit.” I said nothing. I just stared, my eyes burning holes into her. Seeing the storm brewing in my expression, she scrambled, turning to Leo and frantically tugging at the tuxedo jacket. “Take it off! Hurry, don’t get it dirty.” “Don’t bother,” I bit out. I called building security and had them take the tuxedo he’d worn. “Take this outside and burn it,” I ordered. I threw open the windows, letting a cool night breeze rush in to purge the tainted air. But it did nothing to cool the fire in my veins. My eyes, bloodshot and wild, fixed on her. “You brought him here?” I roared. “You brought him to our home, to our bed?” My shout made her flinch, and her face hardened. “What is that supposed to mean, Rico? I brought him here once. Just once! Stop being so paranoid, so suspicious. You’re making this sound so ugly.” “Besides,” she continued, her voice gaining a defiant edge, “you demanded he return the money, and we’re doing it. It just takes time to process. What more do you want from us?” Her entitled attitude was staggering. It was then that my eyes fell upon the nightstand. Our engagement photo, the one we’d placed there together, was gone. In its place was a picture of her and Leo, smiling in their wedding attire. My portrait had been cut out of the original frame, crudely colored in black and white, and tossed into a corner like a discarded death notice. “Seraphina,” I whispered, my voice dangerously low. “You’ve outdone yourself.” The veins in my temples throbbed. I snatched the heavy crystal ashtray from the nightstand and hurled it at their picture. The frame shattered, glass raining down onto the floor in a glittering cascade. Seraphina froze, shocked into silence. “Sera, look out!” Leo lunged forward, pulling her into his arms to shield her from the imaginary danger. Once he was sure she was “safe,” he turned to me, his face a mask of wounded innocence. “Mr. Thorne, I was really just helping try on the clothes. Please, don’t take it out on Sera. If you’re angry, direct it at me.” He then added, a smug little smirk playing on his lips, “As for the photos, it’s just a prank. A modern wedding tradition. You’re from a different generation, so it’s not surprising you don’t get it. There’s really no need to overreact.” My vision went red. In a flash, I lunged forward and drove my foot into his chest. He stumbled backward, crashing into the pile of broken glass. Shards sliced across his precious, pretty face, leaving angry red lines in their wake. “You son of a bitch,” I seethed. “Say one more word to me like that. I dare you.” He cowered, my fury finally breaking through his arrogance. He clutched his bleeding face, his eyes wide with terror as he looked to Seraphina. “Sera…” he whimpered. That broken sound was all it took. Tears welled in her eyes. She rushed to his side, helping him up. The sight of the blood on his face made her tremble with rage. She spun on me, her voice a hysterical shriek. “Rico, have you lost your mind?” “What did he ever do to you? Why are you so obsessed with hurting him? Was it a crime to help you try on a tuxedo?” “If you’re so unhappy, if you have a problem with me, then hit me! Don’t take your anger out on an innocent boy!” “You couldn’t even deliver the hundred-million-dollar payment on time, and I didn’t say a word about it! And now you have the audacity to be angry?” She shoved her face toward mine, challenging me, confident I would never lay a hand on her. I was stunned by her ability to twist reality. I reached out, my fingers curling under her chin, forcing her to meet my gaze. A humorless smile touched my lips. “Don’t worry. I don’t hit women,” I said softly. “But don’t push me. Even a cornered dog will bite.” My words seemed to finally break through her righteous anger. A flicker of fear crossed her face. Before she could respond, I pulled out my phone and dialed my assistant. “Davis,” I said, my eyes locked on hers. “Terminate all partnerships between Thorne Industries and the Vance family. Effective immediately.” “No!” Seraphina’s composure shattered. She began to tremble uncontrollably, her face draining of all color. She knew, better than anyone, that her family’s small company only survived because it was propped up by the Thorne empire. Without the hundred million, and now without my support, Vance Industries wouldn’t last the night. Every supplier, every partner they had, was only there because of me. The moment news broke that we were finished, they would descend on her family like vultures. But her fate was no longer my concern. As she stared at me, her eyes wide with terror, I turned my back on her and walked away without a second glance. If I was right, I’d be reading about the bankruptcy of Vance Industries by morning. However, I had underestimated her. The next evening came and went with no news. I was on my way to a gala at the Grand Hyatt to sign a major deal when a video from Davis popped up on my phone. It was a live feed from the gala. Seraphina and Leo were already there, holding court. “Please, everyone, don’t misunderstand,” Seraphina was saying to a circle of reporters, her voice confident and clear. “Rico and I are perfectly fine. In fact, he adores me.” “The contracts he cancelled were minor, insignificant projects. He has promised that on our wedding day next month, he will personally present me with a one-hundred-million-dollar cash gift and sign over the contract for the Westgate development project.” She beamed, pulling Leo forward. “And this is Leo, the department manager he values most. Please, make him feel welcome.” Her words worked like a charm. The partners who had been on the verge of pulling out were pacified. Even the clients waiting on that hundred-million-dollar order stopped pressing her. They were now fawning over her and her boy toy. I felt the rage clawing its way back up my throat. I slammed on the accelerator, racing towards the hotel. If we were done, I would not let her drag my name through the mud with her lies. 3 The moment I stepped into the ballroom, every head turned. A hush fell over the crowd. Leo, looking as if he’d been expecting me, strode over with a smug grin, a glass of champagne in his hand. Before I could speak, he raised his voice for all to hear. “Mr. Thorne, you’re finally here! I was just about to close the deal for tonight’s big order. I’ll bring the contract for your review once it’s done. Why don’t you go relax in the lounge area for a bit?” His words were perfectly crafted. He was banking on the fact that I wouldn’t make a scene at such a high-profile event. He was trying to paint himself as indispensable, as my trusted right hand. He miscalculated. Badly. I plucked a glass of red wine from a passing waiter’s tray and calmly emptied it over his head. The deep crimson liquid stained his brand-new white suit, dripping onto the pristine floor. “Who the hell do you think you are?” I asked, my voice dangerously quiet. “You think you have the authority to sign deals on my behalf? You’re nothing but a parasite who climbed into my company on Seraphina’s coattails. Don’t get confused and start thinking you can give me orders.” My sharp words hung in the stunned silence. A moment later, the room erupted in whispers. The same people who had been flattering him just minutes before were now pointing and sneering. “He was using Mr. Thorne’s name to network all night. I thought he was someone important, but he’s just Miss Vance’s boy toy.” “This is rich. First, she claims Mr. Thorne is madly in love with her, and now Thorne himself shows up to put her pet in his place. This is better than a movie.” The murmurs grew louder, more vicious. Seraphina’s face flushed with humiliation. She grabbed my arm and dragged me to a secluded corner. She poked a finger into my chest. “Rico, don’t be an ungrateful bastard,” she hissed. “Leo knew you were still upset, so he came here to handle things for you. You can’t just humiliate him like this because he’s an easy target!” “If you keep this up, I’ll—” Suddenly, her phone shrilled, cutting her off. Her expression shifted as she answered it, a wave of panic washing over her face. “Fine. Have it your way,” she muttered, shooting me a nervous glance. She grabbed Leo by the arm and they scurried out of the ballroom. Watching them flee, a knot of unease tightened in my stomach. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong. A few minutes later, my phone rang. It was the groundskeeper from my family’s estate. “Mr. Thorne, something terrible has happened. You need to come to the cemetery. Now.” I raced to the family plot, my heart pounding. When I arrived, I was shocked to find Seraphina and Leo there, locked in a heated argument. The old groundskeeper ran to me, his face streaked with tears. “Sir, it’s your grandfather’s grave,” he choked out. “Miss Vance… she wanted this plot. She said it had good feng shui. She wanted to buy it to rebury Leo’s father. I told her no, but she… she bribed the funeral home. They dug up the master’s grave.” “I only found out tonight. By the time I got here, the master’s ashes…” He couldn’t finish, his voice breaking with a sob. He pointed a trembling finger. I followed his gaze, and my world tilted on its axis. My grandfather’s urn was shattered on the ground. His ashes—the last physical remnants of the man who raised me—were scattered in the mud, trampled and defiled. In that instant, something inside me snapped. All reason, all control, vanished. There was only a primal, killing rage. I lunged at Seraphina, my hands closing around her throat, squeezing. “Se-ra-phi-na,” I snarled, each syllable dripping with venom. “Those are my grandfather’s ashes.” She had never seen this side of me. Her face went deathly pale as she clawed at my hands, her eyes wide with terror. “No… it’s not like that… let me explain,” she wheezed. “I-I didn’t know it was your grandfather’s plot! You never told me he was buried here! The administrator only called me tonight…” The groundskeeper, seeing the life drain from her, rushed over and pulled at my arms. “Sir, calm down! She’s not worth going to prison for!” His words pierced through the red haze. I released her. Seraphina collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, the terror of near-death still etched on her face. She scrambled backward, away from me, until Leo helped her to her feet. Even then, her audacity was boundless. “Well, what’s done is done,” she said, her voice shaky but defiant. “Leo’s father is already buried here. It would be bad luck to disturb his spirit again. You should just let him have it.” “You’re rich, Rico. You can just find a better, more expensive plot for your grandfather. What’s the big…” SLAP! The sharp crack echoed through the silent cemetery. Seraphina stared at me, her hand flying to her cheek, her lips trembling in disbelief. “You… you hit me?” “You’re not even human,” I roared, my entire body shaking with a grief and fury so profound it threatened to tear me apart. “How could you say something like that?” It took every ounce of my willpower not to kill her right there. I turned away and knelt, my hands trembling as I tried to gather the soiled ashes from the dirt. “Mr. Thorne, I’m so sorry about this. Let me help you,” Leo said, his voice dripping with false sincerity. He stepped forward, and before I could react, he ground his heel into the earth, deliberately mashing my grandfather’s remains deeper into the mud, making them inseparable from the filth. “You’re dead.” The last thread of my sanity snapped. My eyes were blood-red. I grabbed a nearby shovel and swung it with all my might, straight at his head. “Rico, stop!” Seraphina screamed. She threw herself in front of him, blocking the blow. The confrontation had finally pushed her over the edge, igniting a deep-seated hatred for me. All pretense of civility was gone. “It’s just a dead man’s grave!” she shrieked. “Is that an excuse to murder Leo?” “I have had it with you! I have been patient, I have been tolerant, but you’ve worn away every last bit of my goodwill! What is this, do you not want to get married anymore?” I couldn’t believe the monstrous words coming out of her mouth. A bitter, chilling laugh escaped my lips. “You’re right,” I said, cutting her off. “We’re finished. Do you really think I’d pay a hundred million dollars to bring a monster like you into my family?” I ordered my men to exhume Leo’s father’s coffin and had my grandfather’s remains, dirt and all, reinterred. Leo clutched his father’s urn, his eyes red, refusing to let a single tear fall. Seeing his pain, Seraphina’s heart ached for him. Her face contorted with fury. As she left, she shot me a look of pure loathing. “You’ll regret this, Rico Thorne. You’ll regret disrespecting the dead. There will come a day when you’ll be on your knees, begging me!” I paid her words no mind. After repairing my grandfather’s tomb, I went home, emotionally and physically exhausted. I spent days in a daze, planning to settle the score with them once I’d regained my strength. But then Davis hammered on my door, his face pale with panic. “Mr. Thorne, it’s bad! Miss Vance used your credentials to log into your office computer. She didn’t just drain all of Thorne Industries’ liquid assets—she sold our entire portfolio of trade secrets to our biggest competitor. She’s trying to secure a new corporate partner!” “Our old partners are suing for breach of contract. We’re facing catastrophic penalties… We could lose everything. The company could go bankrupt.” Davis’s words struck me like a lightning bolt, shattering what was left of my composure. I staggered back, my heart splintering into a million pieces. For Leo, she had done this. She knew what Thorne Industries meant to me, to three generations of my family, and she had destroyed it without a second thought. I should never have trusted her. I should never have given her my password. Just then, my phone rang. It was Seraphina. “Rico,” she said, her voice smug and victorious. “Your three-day deadline passed, and you didn’t sue Leo. I knew it. You talk tough, but deep down, you still care about me.” “Consider this a small lesson. Take some time to reflect on your behavior. If you do, I might be willing to give you another chance.” “At the wedding next month, the entire city’s media will be there. I expect you to arrive with one hundred million dollars in cash. And you will bring your grandfather’s ashes with you.” “You will then get on your knees, holding those ashes, and apologize to Leo. You will keep bowing your head to the ground until he is satisfied. Only then will I agree to get in the wedding car.” I smashed the phone against the wall. So be it. She had left me no other choice.

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To win over the boy I’d loved my whole life, I took my yoga teacher’s advice. I got my braces off, had laser eye surgery, and threw myself into self-improvement. My yoga teacher, Jasmine, had an icy sort of beauty, but her love life was anything but. On a few urgent occasions, she even had me run errands for her—delivering condoms to her dates. I was finally ready to confess my feelings to him. Then, I got a call from Jasmine. “Sweetie, be a doll and bring me the morning-after pill.” Her voice was a husky, seductive purr. “I really hit the jackpot. Never met a virgin with this much stamina.” She hung up. My heart sank as I looked at the address she’d sent. The location pinged to the house of the one person everyone considered untouchable, the school’s ice prince— My childhood friend, Chaz. 1 I stood at Chaz Levine’s front door, but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. For years, this was my spot. Every morning, I’d wait here for him so we could walk to school together. Every evening, I’d stand here to bring him dinner. But this time, clutching the small paper bag with the pill inside, my hand wouldn’t move. As I hesitated, another message from Jasmine came through: 【Just hang the bag on the doorknob! Whatever you do, DO NOT KNOCK!】 Before I could even wonder why, a series of voice notes followed. I played the first one, my phone pressed tight against my ear. 【I take back everything I said about college guys. This one knows what he’s doing… or at least, he’s an enthusiastic learner.】 Jasmine was slightly breathless, a thrill humming in her voice. 【He might not have the technique of a more experienced guy, but damn, that raw strength… He’s wearing me out in the best way…】 Her words were cut off by a sudden rustling sound. The chat went silent. But through the thin wood of the door, I could hear it—Jasmine’s voice, a playful, purring plea for him to go easy on her. I fought back the acid rising in my throat. My fingers hovered over the keypad of the lock, the code a familiar rhythm under my skin. But I couldn’t do it. I hung the bag on the handle and sent a single word back to Jasmine: 【Done.】 Then I fled, like a deserter abandoning the battlefield. 2 I had imagined a hundred different ways Chaz might react to my confession. The worst-case scenario was a simple rejection. I never, ever imagined it would be like this, a suffocating, silent blow. I clutched the eight-hundred-word love letter I’d poured my soul into and hid in a quiet corner of the park, crying until I couldn’t cry anymore. By the time night fell, I walked home with two puffy, red-rimmed eyes. 3 When I got home, Dad poked his head out of the kitchen. “Annie, you’re back! Was it a long day?” I mumbled a noncommittal reply and was about to escape to my room when Mom grabbed my arm. “Where do you think you’re going?” Before I could answer, she tapped my arm playfully. “Annie, you’re such a scatterbrain. Did you really forget what today is?” I stared at her blankly. Before my mind could catch up, the front door opened with a familiar click, and Chaz walked in, carrying a bag of fresh fruit. Mom instantly let go of me, her face lighting up as she went to greet him. And then I remembered. It was Chaz’s birthday. That’s why I had chosen today to confess. But now, seeing him, I couldn’t find the courage to even look him in the eye. Chaz acted as if nothing was wrong, heading straight to the kitchen to help my dad. I used the moment to splash cold water on my face, trying to erase the evidence of my breakdown. When I came out, the table was set with dinner and a birthday cake. In the flickering candlelight, I watched the sharp, elegant line of his jaw and couldn’t stop picturing him with Jasmine, their bodies tangled together. Jasmine was adventurous. She loved to brag to us about the new tricks she tried with the men she slept with. … “Chaz, you and our Annie have known each other your whole lives.” After a few glasses of wine, my dad’s eyes were red with emotion. “It’s been so many years since your parents… well, your Aunt Sarah and I have always thought of you as our own son.” He paused, his voice thick. “You know that, right?” I snapped out of my thoughts, my head jerking up to look at my dad. I was about to say something, anything, to stop him. But under the table, my mom gently patted my hand, giving me a slight shake of her head. I heard my dad, usually so steady, his voice trembling with a rare uncertainty as he spoke to Chaz. “We’ve all seen how much Annie looks up to you… how much she likes you. You’re both adults now, you’ll be starting university together soon. Your uncle was hoping…” He trailed off, then downed another glass of wine as if for courage. “I’ve watched you grow up. We wouldn’t trust anyone else with her. You… you’ll take good care of our Annie, won’t you?” The air in the room froze. My parents stared at Chaz, their faces filled with hopeful expectation. I could feel my mom’s body trembling slightly next to me. But Chaz’s expression was as cool and unreadable as ever. His long, elegant fingers tapped a light, rhythmic pattern against his wine glass. Just as I was about to jump to my feet and break the unbearable tension, I heard him speak. A soft, simple, “Yeah.” He lifted his gaze to meet my father’s, his voice calm and even. “I will.” 4 I looked up, my eyes wide with disbelief. Chaz’s gaze met mine, and a faint smile touched his lips. “I’ll take good care of Annie. You and Aunt Sarah don’t have to worry.” Just as I was about to speak, my phone buzzed. It was a video from Jasmine, of her dancing with a male model at a club, followed by a voice note. Flustered, I quickly hit the voice-to-text option: 【Annie Song! Are you still hung up on that boring childhood friend of yours? Take a lesson from me, babe. It’s about the body, not the heart!】 【I was supposed to have a date with a rich heir tonight, but that college guy completely wrecked me today. I’m too sore for anything serious, so I just came out for some eye candy and to feel up some abs. ;)】 【But thanks for the help today! I’ll give you a free class tomorrow, good girl!】 I stared down at my phone like a student caught cheating in class. I typed back: 【Are you and that college guy… a couple?】 My question must have seemed to come out of nowhere. The “typing…” indicator blinked for a long time before she replied with a single “?” I glanced at Chaz across the table, a wave of guilt washing over me. Just as I was about to delete my message, her reply came through: 【Are you kidding? Me, tied down by him?】 【He’s lucky I’m even letting him be my friend with benefits. He wants a title? He’ll have to get in line behind the forty other handsome, rich guys who’ve tried!】 For some reason, a wave of relief washed over me. I shut off my phone, looked up at a slightly tipsy Chaz, and smiled at him. “Happy birthday.” 5 Maybe it was the alcohol, but my dad’s eyes welled up. “Good, good,” he said, repeating the word several times. He stood and clapped Chaz on the shoulder. “Good boy. I always knew you were a good boy.” His voice cracked. Realizing he was getting overly emotional, he stood up abruptly, wiping his face with his hand. “I’ll… I’ll go make you some longevity noodles.” I was feeling a little dizzy myself. I leaned against my mom and started counting on my fingers. “This is the… seventh birthday we’ve celebrated together…” Time really did fly. The timid, fragile little boy had grown into a tall, handsome young man. That year, he had lost both his parents overnight. He was left completely alone. The thought of raising a child, paying for his education, a car, a house, a wedding… it was enough to make all his other relatives avoid him like the plague, terrified of the responsibility. Only my parents, their hearts breaking for him, stepped up. To make sure he never felt like a charity case, our whole family went out of our way to give him the best of everything. And it had all been worth it. Everything had turned out so well. “Chaz’s had a bit too much to drink. Why don’t you walk him home?” Mom nudged me with her elbow. “Go on.” “Oh,” I said, looking up. My eyes met Chaz’s. They were dark, intense. He smiled, his voice a low, husky whisper that felt like a spell. “Annie. I’ll be in your care, then.” 6 Chaz’s apartment was just one building over from ours. For years, he’d spent nearly all his waking hours at our place. I’d never once thought the short walk between our homes was long. Until tonight. “Annie Song.” I was lost in thought when Chaz’s voice, soft and lazy, called my name. “Annie Song.” There was an intimacy in his tone I’d never heard before. Before I could ask, he had pulled me into his arms, pinning me against the cold metal wall of the elevator. I struggled for a moment, but froze when he suddenly leaned down. His eyebrow was arched, a smirk playing on his lips. Flushed with alcohol, he lowered his face to mine— I squeezed my fists, my heart hammering as I shut my eyes. After a few long, agonizing seconds, Chaz chuckled. “So you really are in love with me.” His beautiful, dark eyes stared directly into mine. “How did I never notice? How did I miss it?” A sense of dread washed over me. I blushed, my voice barely a whisper. “What?” “Why did you close your eyes?” he asked. “Did you think I was going to kiss you?” Just like that, his voice turned cold, back to the familiar, distant tone he always used. “Is this fun for you? What is this, some kind of guilt trip? Forcing me to repay your family’s kindness?” “I told you, once I start making money, I’ll pay your family back for everything, with interest. Why are you trying to force me into a relationship?” “I don’t get it! Am I your family’s… what? Indentured husband? Just because you took me in, I have to be with you? Tie myself to your family for the rest of my life?” His voice grew louder with every word. I had never seen him so out of control. In my shock, I forgot the one thing I should have said. “You know, you could have just said no.” 7 Chaz pulled a cigarette from his pocket. As I stared in shock, he let out a bitter laugh. “What? Going to run and tell on me?” He took a drag and blew a perfect smoke ring right in my face. “Go on. Tell them I smoke. Tell them I’m not the good guy you should spend your life with. Then… set me free.” I looked at him, and it was like seeing a complete stranger. After a long, heavy silence, I spoke, my voice soft. “I’ll talk to Mom and Dad.” I looked down, fighting to keep the tears from falling. My voice was choked. “You don’t have to do this.” 8 Chaz was always distant with everyone. He hated when people got too close. Except for me. Not only did he not push me away, but he’d secretly laugh when I did something silly. He’d carry me on his back to the clinic when I was sick with a fever. I always thought he liked me, too. That he was just naturally reserved and bad at expressing his feelings. So I told myself that if I could just become a little more beautiful, a little more confident, I would be the one to confess. I signed up for yoga classes to improve my posture. After I met Jasmine, she taught me how to be beautiful. How to… capture a man’s heart. Looking back now, I was such a fool. 9 The next morning, I went to my yoga class as scheduled. My plan was to act like nothing had happened, finish my remaining sessions, and then go on a long trip with my parents. I never expected to be slapped the moment I walked through the door. Jasmine stood there, her long neck held high, her voice dripping with contempt. “You look so innocent. Who knew you were such a shameless, backstabbing bitch?” My head was ringing from the blow. When I looked up, I saw that it wasn’t just the other students in the room. Chaz was there, too. “Writing love letters to my boyfriend? You have some nerve, don’t you?” Jasmine’s face was red with fury. Her long, manicured nails poked me hard in the chest. “What, you think because you’re young you can just seduce other people’s boyfriends? You want to be a homewrecker?” She stomped her foot dramatically and linked her arm through Chaz’s, her voice breaking into a sob. “Chaz, say something! This is the little tramp who’s trying to ruin our relationship! This is why you wanted to break up with me, isn’t it?!” 10 I didn’t even have time to process what she meant by “break up.” My hand flew up instinctively to strike back. But Chaz caught my wrist. “Have you caused enough trouble?” he snapped, his voice filled with irritation. “Isn’t this exactly what you wanted to see?” He started pulling me towards the door. He glanced back at Jasmine, his voice low and heavy. “This is my fault. I’m the one who’s sorry.” “Forget about me.” His grip on my wrist was painfully tight. The look he gave Jasmine was a mixture of resignation and something that looked like regret. “Once school starts, Annie and I will be at Kingston University. You… you won’t see me. It’ll be better that way.” Jasmine’s mouth fell open in disbelief. I knew her. She was proud, arrogant. A veteran of the dating scene who had never lost. Chaz was probably the first man to ever deal her such a blow. I never imagined she would get so angry that she would forward my love letter, along with intimate photos of her and Chaz, to the entire yoga class group chat. 【Everyone, meet my star student! Not only does she take my class, she also tries to steal my boyfriend!】 After sending it, she tagged my parents. 【Is this how you raised your daughter?】 I lunged for her phone like a madwoman, but Chaz held me back, whispering soothing words to Jasmine. “Let it out, it’s better this way. It’s already happened, I didn’t…” I laughed, a bitter, broken sound. Fine. I pulled out my phone and scrolled back through my chat history, finding all the records of my condom delivery runs for her. “Chaz,” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “You don’t actually think your so-called girlfriend is some kind of innocent angel, do you?” 11 In the month I’d known Jasmine, I had delivered condoms for her fifteen times. “So many men, so little time,” she’d always say. “The new ones are always the most fun.” I’d once asked her if she was ever afraid of getting her heart broken. She just laughed. “Oh, you really are still just a little flower bud, aren’t you?” “Listen, sweetie—I’m always accepting boyfriend applications, but I’m never looking for a long-term commitment. I have no exes, you understand?” Back then, I had just blinked at her, confused. I had to admit, Jasmine was stunning. She had that bold, striking beauty that turned heads, and she always wore tight dresses that showed off her figure, adding to her allure. Sensing my gaze, she had tapped my forehead playfully. “Stick with me. In one month, I’ll turn you into the kind of woman men can’t resist. You’ll have your crush eating out of the palm of your hand. The only condition is, you have to be my errand girl. Because you… you’re fast.” A call from my dad pulled me from my thoughts. I looked at the screen, then hit decline. Without another thought, I forwarded my entire chat history with Jasmine, along with the receipts, to the group chat. Behind me, the other students staring at their phones gasped. “Holy crap, she’s wild!” “I knew she played around, but this is a whole other level! Damn. How does someone like that even become a teacher?” “So she’s that promiscuous, and she has the audacity to accuse someone else… Wait, so is Annie the other woman or not?” Their scorching gazes felt like they were burning holes in my skin. I tried to stay calm, pulling up the screenshot from last night where I had asked Jasmine if she and Chaz were a couple, ready to prove my innocence. “Jasmine is my girlfriend.” Chaz’s voice cut through the murmurs. His face was a dark mask. He stepped forward and put a protective arm around a stunned-looking Jasmine. His voice wasn’t loud, but it was firm. “I don’t care what she was like before. She is my girlfriend now, and I don’t want to see any of you prying into her private life and making a big deal out of it.” Jasmine’s head snapped up, a deep blush spreading across her cheeks. I stood frozen, feeling like I’d just been nailed to a cross for the whole world to see.

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My brother is a superstar. On a family reality show, the host asked us to share a funny story about him. Charlotte went first: “He once bought out a whole store of blind boxes just so I could get the one I wanted.” Felicity giggled: “He tried to send a pic to our group chat and accidentally sent a nude.” Leo turned beet red: “Shut up!” The audience laughed. The host turned to me: “And you, the middle sister, did you save it?” I shrugged: “Nope. I’m not in the group chat.” The cheerful mood froze. The host tried to recover: “I’m sure he’s bought you plenty of blind boxes too.” I smiled shyly: “No, but he did give me a four-leaf clover necklace once.” A sigh of envy went through the crowd. Money, glamour, generosity. I blinked. “It was originally for Charlotte,” I continued softly. “But he gave it to me so I’d agree to move out.” “When she saw it on me, she called me a thief.” “Dad threw me in the pool to ‘clear my head.’ Later we found out it was all a misunderstanding. Isn’t that funny?” I looked at the silent audience. “Huh? Why isn’t anyone laughing?” 1 The show was broadcasting live. On the massive screen behind us, the live chat was scrolling at lightning speed: 【I smell tea. THIS IS THE GOOD STUFF.】 【Rich family drama? Secret scandals? SIGN ME UP.】 【OMG, get in here, you guys! @AbsForDays @LegsForYears】 【Wait, didn’t Leo Vance say he only had one older and one younger sister? Where did this one come from?】 【Just checked his Wikipedia page. The family section is totally missing a middle sister. What is going on?】 【She doesn’t look adopted. She has their mom’s eyes.】 The online detectives were sharp. I am, technically, a Vance. A daughter born of their blood, but a stranger in their hearts. My parents had four children in total: one boy, three girls. I was the second youngest. We all used to live in a small, sleepy seaside town. Then my uncle struck it rich in the city and offered to bring my parents into his business. The catch was, he could only secure school placements for three children. After a brief discussion, my parents decided to leave me behind. They paid one of my dad’s old coworkers, a man I barely knew, a meager fee each month to look after me. I didn’t rejoin the Vance family until I finished middle school. By then, they were living in a sprawling mansion. I only lived at home for a single semester of high school before I opted to board at my new school. I rarely came home, maybe once a month if that. I was a ghost in their family photos. It was no wonder the public had never seen me. If the show’s producers hadn’t happened to call while I was home for a rare visit, no one would have ever known the Vance family had another daughter. 2 【OMG! I know her! She was a total brainiac at Westwood High, graduated this year. We all knew she was smart, but a secret heiress? Wild.】 【Westwood?? A Vance kid at Westwood High? You’ve got to be kidding. All the rich kids go to Northwood Academy.】 【It’s true. She actually transferred from Northwood.】 【What? Why would anyone trade a mansion for a dorm room? That’s insane.】 Seeing the speculation dig deeper, I smiled sweetly at the camera. “Please, don’t misunderstand,” I said. “After they realized the truth, everyone apologized to me.” “We have very strong family values. My dad is a big believer in character education; he just got a little rough out of concern for his daughter.” I paused, letting the lie settle. “You need high moral standards to run a successful company, right?” “And my brother only wanted me to go to boarding school to foster my independence. It came from a good place.” “Besides,” I added, “after the misunderstanding was cleared up, Dad transferred me a huge sum of money as compensation.” The host’s eyes lit up. “Can you give us a number? Let us live vicariously.” I turned to my father. “Dad, how much was it again?” His face was a mask of stone. “$200,000.” “Wow!” A wave of envious gasps swept the studio. My father continued, warming to the topic. “Our family believes in clear consequences. Rewards for good behavior, punishments for mistakes. No nonsense. It’s the same principle I apply to my business…” The doubt in the live chat evaporated, replaced by a flood of praise: 【That’s a true industry titan for you. A man of principle.】 【Mr. Vance, you can throw me in a pool and then give me $200k anytime.】 【Ugh, I wish I had a brother like that.】 Amid the chorus of adulation, the show wrapped up smoothly. My father, beaming with pride, even invited me to ride home in his car. I glanced at Felicity, who was pouting, her arm wrapped around her Doberman. “It’s okay,” I said. “Shadow should have the space. He doesn’t like me getting too close.” Shadow was Felicity’s dog, and he was vicious. A pale, jagged scar on my calf was permanent proof of his temperament. My mother shot Felicity a look of mild disapproval. “Felicity, you’re so spoiled. Make room for your sister.” Felicity just nuzzled the dog’s head, her eyes flashing a challenge at me. “I can make room. The question is, would she dare to sit here?” “Oh, you,” my mother sighed, as if helpless, then turned to me. “Well, Nina, I guess you can just grab a cab to Saffron’s.” They’d made reservations for a late supper after the show. I, of course, hadn’t been included in the original headcount. I looked at Charlotte and Felicity, whose faces had simultaneously soured at the thought of my presence. I smiled. “I’m a bit tired. I think I’ll just go home.” My mother let out a quiet sigh of relief, though her words were laced with complaint. “You’re just so distant. You never join in on family activities, and then you’ll turn around and say I play favorites.” “Mom, please stop,” Leo interrupted, walking over and taking my arm. “Come on,” he said gently. “I’ll drive you home.” 3 In stark contrast to her coldness towards me, Felicity leaned out the car window, calling after Leo. “Hurry back, big brother! We’ll wait for you!” I tried to pull my arm away from his grasp. “I can get a cab. You don’t have to.” Leo’s grip didn’t loosen. “You’re my sister. It’s not a bother.” I raised an eyebrow in surprise. So, the great Leo Vance did know how to act human. Then I caught a glimpse of the fans lingering nearby, phones raised, snapping pictures. Ah. I understood. I complied, getting into the car and staring silently out the window as the city lights blurred past. At a red light, Leo spoke suddenly. “I’m surprised you still remember that.” I kept my gaze fixed outside, a small smile playing on my lips. He sighed. “Either way, thank you for today.” That was a first. The proud, untouchable superstar, thanking me. I was about to make a sarcastic remark when my phone buzzed with a text. 【DEPOSIT NOTIFICATION: $200,000.00 has been transferred to your account.】 【From Dad: Good performance today. This is your reward.】 I cashed it in, then showed the screen to Leo. “So, brother,” I said, my voice dripping with manufactured sweetness. “About that ‘thank you’… I prefer something a little more tangible.” Leo agreed instantly. “I’ve already ordered you the newest four-leaf clover necklace from their collection. It should arrive tomorrow.” My smile widened. “Thanks, big brother.” Leo looked a little uncomfortable. “Don’t mention it. I should have gotten it for you a long time ago.” He wasn’t wrong. In tenth grade, he’d used that necklace to bribe me into moving out to the dorms. The problem was, he never told Charlotte. When she saw her promised gift around my neck, she immediately branded me a thief. The entire family sided with her. My father, without a second thought, kicked me into the deep end of the pool. I couldn’t swim. I remember the shock of the cold water, the burning in my lungs as I swallowed mouthful after mouthful, thrashing in a desperate panic. They just stood on the edge, watching me. Luckily, Leo got home in time to pull me out. Charlotte stood there, clutching the necklace, her expression arrogant. “I don’t care. It was promised to me, so it’s mine.” My father tossed a few bills at my feet. “It’s just a necklace. If your sister likes it, let her have it. Go buy yourself something else.” The money amounted to $200. It was the first and only allowance I ever received after returning to the Vance family. The streetlights flashed across my face, and I narrowed my eyes. “It’s fine,” I murmured. “Better late than never, I guess.” 4 During the short drive, Felicity called him at least three times. Leo dropped me at the front gate and sped off. I took a long bath, and just as I was getting comfortable in bed, my phone lit up with a series of notifications. Charlotte had added me to the family group chat. 【Charlotte: Welcome, Nina. My mistake, I can’t believe I forgot to add you sooner.】 【Felicity: (Yawning emoji) We don’t really use this chat much anyway, so it doesn’t matter if she’s in it or not lol (Clown emoji)】 【Charlotte: (Smiling emoji) (Smiling emoji) (Smiling emoji)】 【Leo: Nina, want me to bring you anything? (Image) (Image) (Image)】 A stream of lavish food photos buried the previous messages. I was about to decline but changed my mind. 【Anything is fine. Thanks, brother.】 Leo sent back an “OK” emoji, and the chat went silent. I switched to another conversation and transferred the $200,000. 【Mr. Miller, the hospital in the city is all set. You and Mrs. Miller should take Jason for the prosthetic eye surgery next week. I’ll join you afterward.】 The “typing…” indicator blinked for a long time. Finally, a short message appeared: 【Be careful. We’ll be waiting for you.】 A lump formed in my throat, and a tear rolled down my cheek. Soon. It won’t be long now. 5 The next morning, my mother called me down for breakfast. Felicity winked at me. “Oh, Nina, you missed out last night. The king crab at Saffron’s was to die for.” Charlotte nudged a sleepy-looking Leo. “Brother, didn’t you say you were going to bring something back for Nina?” Leo froze, a guilty look washing over his face. “Oh… right. I’m so sorry, I forgot.” Before I could say a word, my mother set her bowl down with a sharp clink. “What is there to apologize for? She had the chance to go and she didn’t. No one is obligated to bring her food. We don’t tolerate princesses in this house.” I sighed, exhausted. “Mom, you’re overthinking it. I wasn’t expecting anything.” “Maybe not now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t later. I’m teaching you a lesson. Now, tell me you understand.” She continued, her voice rising. “You must have picked up that habit of talking back from the Millers. It’s been almost three years, and you’re still so unpolished. How am I supposed to present you to society like this?” “I was planning to introduce you to the Fords’ son, to see if you two could build a connection…” “Mom!” Leo cut her off. “Nina just graduated. She’s going to college. Why are you setting her up on blind dates?” “Oh, right,” Mom said, as if just remembering. She fixed her gaze on me. “Nina, what did you score on your finals? What university did you get into?” I kept my expression neutral. “Nothing special, way worse than Charlotte’s scores. Just a 650. I’m going to Westwood University.” My mother seemed to let out a breath she’d been holding. “Are you sure?” she asked, needing confirmation. “The acceptance letter is on my desk. Mrs. Gable probably saw it when she was cleaning.” Mom turned to the housekeeper standing nearby. Mrs. Gable nodded. The tension in my mother’s face melted away, her tone softening. “Well, 650 isn’t as good as your sister’s score, but it’s respectable. Westwood is a good school, just a bit far from home.” She added, “But with travel being so convenient these days, you can come back anytime.” I murmured in agreement, and she finally smiled. “Let’s eat before everything gets cold.” As I reached for a sausage, Felicity’s fork shot out and snatched it, dropping it on the floor for her Doberman. “I could never bear to be so far from home,” she chirped. “When I graduate next year, I’m going to the same university as Charlotte.” Charlotte smiled. “Perfect. You can take over as president of the student council when I leave.” The conversation shifted back to them. Only then did I realize a cold sweat had broken out on my back. If I hadn’t figured out early on that my mother despised me being more successful than her other daughters—if I hadn’t intentionally tanked my scores on the exams—I would be the one facing that god-awful blind date right now. The Fords’ son was a notorious local playboy who openly bragged about wanting a harem of wives and mistresses. No family with any self-respect would marry their daughter to him. Yet my mother was ready to throw me to the wolves. A metallic taste filled my throat. I washed it down with a sip of oatmeal. Leo placed a sausage in my bowl. “I’ll drive you to campus when the semester starts.” “Okay. Thanks, brother.” Charlotte smiled. “Any plans today, Nina? Want to come to the spa with us?” I rubbed my hands together, feigning bashfulness. “Oh, I’d love to, but I already made plans with Ethan. I can’t just bail on him.” Charlotte’s eyebrows rose, a knowing smile playing on her lips. “Oh. Well, have fun.” Leo glanced at me, his brow furrowed as if he wanted to say something, but he held his tongue. 6 Ethan and I were both avid cyclists. We took a long ride along the coastal path, the salty wind whipping through our hair, before stopping for a break under a grove of palm trees. “Here,” Ethan said, handing me a milk tea. It was Jasmine Pearl, my favorite. The irony wasn’t lost on me. My own family had no idea what I liked, but my neighbor knew my order by heart. “Thanks.” I took a sip, my gaze drifting out towards the vast, shimmering ocean. He followed my line of sight. “You love the ocean, don’t you?” “Yeah. I grew up by the sea. The town was nothing like this place, not nearly as glamorous, but I loved it.” Because the people who truly loved me were there. Mr. and Mrs. Miller. And their son, my brother, Jason. Ethan smiled, but then his expression turned serious. “Nina, there’s something I don’t think I should hide from you.” He pulled out his phone and opened a group chat named “The Garden (No Ninas Allowed).” “Yesterday, right before Charlotte added you to the main chat, she created this new one. You should see it for yourself.” He helpfully scrolled back to yesterday’s messages. 【Felicity: New chat! We’ll talk here from now on.】 【Charlotte: Got it.】 【Dad: Thumbs up】 【Mom: Thumbs up】 【Leo: …】 【Charlotte: We should probably still say something in the other group chat occasionally, so she doesn’t get suspicious.】 【Felicity: Easy. Mom can just forward a bunch of those inspirational videos. It’s not like Nina’s gonna watch them and then @ us for a discussion.】 【Mom: No, what if she actually replies? I won’t know what to say.】 【Felicity: @Dad, you should forward a bunch of those dense financial articles. She won’t understand a word.】 【Dad: Unnecessary. Her performance today was satisfactory. She’s clearly trying to get on my good side. The carrot has been offered; engaging further will only make her bolder.】 【Leo: Fine, fine. I’ll post something. Happy?】 【Charlotte: Thanks, big bro.】 【Felicity: Thanks, big bro.】 … I handed the phone back before I finished reading. “So,” I asked, my voice dangerously calm, “what are you trying to achieve by showing me this?” Ethan faltered for a second. “I just… I don’t think they should be deceiving you like this. Or mocking you. You’re a Vance, too. You deserve the same love they get.” I squeezed the plastic cup in my hand and let out a soft laugh. “Ethan, if you knew this would hurt me, why didn’t you just keep it to yourself?” “It wouldn’t have mattered if you never told me.” “So why did you have to?” I turned to face the handsome, bewildered boy beside me. “It’s just like before my college entrance exams. My brother, Jason, got into a car accident and injured his eyes. He didn’t tell me because he didn’t want it to affect my tests.” “But you,” I said, my smile never wavering, “you just happened to drag me to the hospital for a check-up the day before my exams. And we just happened to run into Mr. and Mrs. Miller there.” “You wanted me to be in pain, to be terrified. But why? Aren’t you my friend?” Ethan’s expression grew complicated. “Nina…” “Haha!” I suddenly burst out laughing. “Why the long face? I’m just kidding! Did you actually believe me? You’re my only friend. I would never suspect you. Right?” He looked lost, his mouth slightly agape, before finally managing a strained, gentle smile. “Right. I’m your only friend.” 7 Ethan had no idea. There was a time I truly had feelings for him. The day after I first moved in with the Vances, I had to register at Northwood Academy. My mother told me to ride with them. But when we got to the car, Felicity refused to let me in. “No way! She smells like fish from that disgusting town. Shadow hates the smell of fish.” She let her Doberman sprawl across the back seat, leaving no room. “Besides, the car’s full.” Charlotte was in the passenger seat, and my mother sat next to Felicity. None of them said a word as I stood there, humiliated. That’s when Ethan appeared. He offered me a ride in his family’s car. He even tried to comfort me. “Someone else’s love is a bonus,” he’d said. “But if you don’t have it, it’s not the end of the world. Loving yourself is what matters most.” I wrote that sentence on the first page of my diary. After that, he insisted on driving me to and from school. I felt bad always relying on him, so I bought a bicycle. The next day, he showed up with one too, becoming my cycling partner. He listened to my problems, offered advice, and even stood up to the bullies who targeted me. He took me hiking and to the beach, telling me to follow my heart wherever my eyes led me. I felt so lucky to have met someone so wonderful during the loneliest time of my life. I was a complete fool. It all unraveled during winter break of my freshman year. My grades were so high that my teachers praised me as a “gifted student.” I thought my parents would be proud. But my father didn’t care about my grades at all. And my mother, when she found out, her face soured. “Oh,” she’d said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “I see your precious Mr. Miller taught you well.” Without another word, she had me transferred to Westwood High, a school with a much poorer reputation. That’s when I understood. I could not be better than my sisters. My only path to a peaceful existence in that house was mediocrity. So I started controlling my scores. I couldn’t do better than Charlotte or Felicity, but I couldn’t do too poorly either, or I’d embarrass the family. It was an exhausting, soul-crushing balancing act. One day, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to tell Ethan my secret. I called him, but he said he was busy. I figured I’d wait. I wandered aimlessly through the neighborhood and ended up near a small park, where I heard his voice, and Charlotte’s. “Nina’s grades have dropped a lot this semester,” Charlotte was saying. “I have a feeling she’s doing it on purpose. Has she told you anything?” “No,” Ethan replied. “It seems normal to me. Westwood doesn’t have the same resources as Northwood.” “I’m still not convinced. Keep an eye on her for me. Make sure she doesn’t have too much time to study. If you have to, arrange for some people to cause a little trouble for her.” “Okay. I understand.” “And one more thing. If you dare to actually fall for her, I’ll make sure you never see me again.” “Charlotte, even if you don’t trust me, you should trust yourself. Nina… she’s not a thousandth of what you are.” I hid behind a tree, watching them embrace, then kiss. The blue sky, the golden sunset, the beautiful couple. A perfect picture. But in my eyes, the show was over. The sun was dying.

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I was transported into the school-themed level of a horror game. My designated role? The ditzy damsel. When the jock collapsed from heatstroke, I revived him with a mouth-to-mouth transfer of water until he woke up, flushed and flustered. When the class president was haunted by a succubus, I was the one who blocked its escape, my hands held firm. Afterwards, he led me to the sink and washed my hands for me, his gaze intense and silent. When my quiet, introverted deskmate was being bullied, I was the one who stood up for him, hiding him in a locker and comforting him until the danger passed. But when the final countdown began and the monsters started their massacre, the other players scattered in terror. I sought out the most ruthless player in the game. “H-hello,” I stammered, holding out the key. “Can… can you take me with you?” His expression was cold, arrogant, but his words were shockingly crude. “Sure. But you have to sleep with me.” 1 A cold, mechanical voice echoed in my ears. [Level loading… SSS-Rank Level: Redwood Boys’ Academy. Time limit: five days. Players must find the key to the school gate and escape to win.] [Friendly reminder: Players must adhere to all school rules. Violators will be eliminated by the level. The current rules are as follows…] [One: No tardiness or leaving early without a valid reason.] [Two: Strictly maintain classroom discipline.] [Three: No staying out late or overnight.] [Additionally, there are hidden rules within the level that players must discover for themselves. We wish all players a successful run.] The voice faded, and my eyes snapped open. The air was thick with the buzz of hushed whispers. Our homeroom teacher stood at the front, his face ashen, his lips tinged with blue. He brandished his pointer. “Quiet!” The classroom fell instantly, eerily silent. He scanned the room, a satisfied smirk twisting his lips. With new transfer students, he felt the need to re-emphasize the importance of the rules. I kept my head down, listening silently. The reason was simple: the room was filled with monsters. I could feel several pairs of excited, predatory eyes fixed on me. I pressed my lips together, terrified of making eye contact. When the bell finally rang, I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. In my peripheral vision, I saw my introverted deskmate slumped over his desk, radiating an aura of complete detachment. My plan to gather clues from him was dead in the water. Before I could come up with a new strategy, a hand clamped down on my shoulder. My eyes flew open. I turned to see a male student I didn’t recognize draping his arm around me, his fingers tracing my collarbone. “Hey, pretty new thing,” he purred. “Help me out and turn in my homework for me.” I vaguely remembered him. He was the teacher’s pet, the class representative. I was about to refuse, but a thick stack of notebooks was thrust into my hands. After a moment of hesitation, I took them and left. As I stepped out of the classroom, I overheard a group of cocky NPC students in the corner, openly objectifying me. “Ha, he looks so dumb. Bet he’s easy.” “His skin is so pale and soft. He’d probably be fun to break.” I bit my lip and pretended not to hear. One line from the level’s description stood out in my mind: In a boys’ school overflowing with testosterone, the combination of young flesh and raw desire is tragically common. I took a deep breath, steeling my resolve to escape this place as quickly as possible. The next second, a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the end of the hall. “Murder! He’s killing people!” 2 Pus-filled tentacles burst through a tweed suit jacket. The mild-mannered teacher had shed his disguise, his face contorted into a grotesque, monstrous grin. For some unknown reason, he was attacking the players. Each thrust of a tentacle claimed a life. I watched in horror as one player sprinted toward me. A moment later, a sharp tentacle pierced through his chest. Warm blood splattered across my face. I stood frozen as the monster slithered closer. A drop of foul-smelling ichor landed between my eyebrows. The air whistled as a tentacle swung down. My heart seized, and I squeezed my eyes shut, bracing for the impact. Suddenly, a scream erupted from behind me. “Run!” Desperate cries echoed through the hallway. After what felt like an eternity, the corridor fell silent. My hands suddenly felt light. The class president, Cole, had taken the homework from me. He looked down at me, his voice laced with mockery. “Congratulations. You survived by being too stupid to run.” Before I could react, he walked away, the notebooks tucked under his arm. With the monster gone, players from other classes poked their heads out, whispering amongst themselves. I soon learned the reason for the creature’s rampage. A player from the next class had tried to cozy up to the NPC teacher, offering to be his new class representative. The monster agreed and told the player to come to his office after class. But the moment the player stepped inside, the teacher’s lips peeled back to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth. “You’re late, student.” By the time the player realized they had never set a specific time, it was too late. Suddenly, an alarm blared from the system. [Warning! Warning! Do not make casual agreements with NPCs!] [Do not be late! Do not be late!] [Congratulations to player “Zane” for triggering a hidden rule…] [Rule Four: No running or roughhousing in the hallways between classes.] A wave of relief washed over me. No wonder the monster had been slaughtering all the players who had been sprinting down the hall. I looked down, chastising myself. Cole was right. Only a fool too stunned to even think of running could have survived that. I turned to go back to my classroom. Just then, the system’s voice announced in my mind: [Initial players: 30. Remaining players: 22.] 3 The curriculum at Redwood Boys’ Academy wasn’t exactly demanding. We had gym class on the very first afternoon. I changed into shorts and a t-shirt and warmed up in a corner by myself. As soon as the teacher announced free time, I made a beeline for the tuck shop, sticking close to the other players. While I was stretching, I had felt several pairs of eyes on me, and I’d overheard some disgusting comments. “His legs are so white and smooth. You think he’s a girl?” “Fuck, that’d be even better…” “We should go have some fun with him later.” I didn’t dare ask the other players for help directly, so I just tried to stay near them for safety. Suddenly, someone on the field shouted. “Help! The sports rep passed out from the heat!” I turned, my eyes wide with disbelief. A super-strong monster had fainted? Worried it might be related to the level’s objective, I reluctantly made my way to the center of the field. A circle of students had formed around the sports representative, a well-built boy with tan skin, who was lying unconscious on the ground. Several other players were there, but they were hesitant to act. I didn’t want to be the one to stick my neck out either, but I noticed the NPCs were starting to give us increasingly cold stares. Suddenly, a system notification popped up. [Congratulations, host. As the first to trigger a hidden rule, you have been awarded a small clue.] After a moment of hesitation, I asked, “What happens if we don’t save him?” [At midnight, the deceased sports representative will return as a vengeful spirit,] the system replied matter-of-factly. [All players who witnessed his plight and did nothing will suffer a gruesome fate.] My face paled. As the seconds ticked by, I clutched the half-empty water bottle in my hand, grit my teeth, and pushed my way through the crowd. It was a choice between death and social suicide. I knew which one to pick. I took a large gulp of water, held it in my mouth, and, steeling myself, pressed my lips to his. The moment our lips met, the crowd of students seemed to surge forward, forming a tight, impenetrable wall around us. The sound of the water transferring between our mouths was amplified, disgustingly loud. I wasn’t sure if it was my imagination, but I could hear whispers from above. “He smells so good.” “So soft and pink. Look, there’s a string of saliva.” He still wasn’t waking up. In a panic, I started blowing in his ear and tried to unbutton his shirt to cool him down. Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed my wrist. The jock’s eyes fluttered open, his face and ears beet red. He cursed under his breath. “Idiot. Is that any way to save someone?” 4 I stood there, completely flustered, as he dragged me to a secluded corner of the field. “I know you. The new transfer student.” “You have a crush on me, don’t you?” I was stunned. “N-no,” I stammered. “I’d help anyone who fainted.” He paused, then said with utter conviction, “I don’t believe you. If it was a 300-pound guy with a face full of pimples, would you have done the same?” His question made me hesitate. “See?” he said triumphantly. “You like me.” After a moment, I managed a weak rebuttal. “I don’t even know your name.” He nodded. “So it’s my face you like.” I was speechless. He was handsome, with his sharp eyebrows and striking eyes, but his confidence was off the charts. He took my silence as an admission. “My name is Axel,” he said. “I can be your boyfriend.” Before I could refuse, he cupped my face in his hands. “Don’t get too close to any other guys, you hear me?” I pressed my lips together, at a complete loss for words. Axel leaned in, his gaze fixed on my lips, his ears bright red. “Babe, let’s kiss a little longer.” My eyes widened in shock, but his grip was like iron. A wave of raw, masculine energy washed over me as he pressed his lips to mine. He kept me hidden in that corner of the field and kissed me until the sun began to set. He kissed me until tears started to well up in my eyes. He held me close, whispering sweet nothings until I calmed down. When he finally walked me back to the dorms, he was reluctant to let me go. “Get some sleep tonight, babe,” he murmured. “And don’t go wandering around.” Remembering the third school rule, I lowered my eyes and mumbled my agreement. 5 After escaping back to my dorm, the last person I expected to see was my roommate, Cole. He glanced at me, his eyes lingering on my swollen lips. “Some people work fast,” he sneered. “Barely here a day and you’ve already hooked up with some brute.” I didn’t say anything. I kicked off my shoes and climbed into my bunk. The moment I pulled the covers over my head, a wave of self-pity washed over me. It was all Axel’s fault. I had missed dinner. I was starving. Tears started to stream down my face. Cole must have heard me sniffling, because he yanked my covers off. He froze for a second. “What’s wrong with you?” At that point, I just let it all out. “I’m hungry,” I sobbed. The atmosphere turned awkward. “I’ll go make you some instant noodles,” he said stiffly. The door opened and closed. A few minutes later, he returned with a steaming bowl. The familiar aroma made my eyes well up again. “Cole,” I said, my voice thick with emotion, “you’re a really good person.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Don’t mention it,” he said through gritted teeth. “Just stay away from certain… bad influences.” I slurped my noodles and nodded enthusiastically. He had a point. I needed to stay away from any man who made me miss a meal. 6 I slept soundly that night. The next morning, Cole woke me up. “Time for class.” Remembering the school rules, I shot out of bed. As I was leaving, I thanked him, but I noticed he looked pale. “Are you not feeling well?” I asked. He was silent for a moment, then said nonchalantly, “I’m fine. Just had a bit of sleep paralysis.” The hairs on my arms stood on end. As a native of this horror level, wasn’t Cole technically a monster himself? He could get sleep paralysis? Something was wrong. I made a mental note to keep an eye on him tonight. When I got to the classroom, all the other players were already there. They had spent the previous day trying to trigger all the hidden rules to avoid any unknown dangers while searching for the key. So far, no one had succeeded. The bell rang, and the teacher walked in, a sinister smile on his face. “Good morning, class. A new day has begun. The early bird gets the worm. Now, let’s check yesterday’s homework.” The players’ faces fell. The teacher hadn’t assigned any homework yesterday. But all the other students were pulling out their notebooks. The new players exchanged panicked glances. I sat by the door, which meant I would be the first to face the teacher’s wrath. My palms started to sweat. As if sensing my anxiety, the teacher pushed up his glasses and smiled. “Good students always do their homework. Let’s see yours.” 7 My heart pounded in my chest. Just as I was about to stammer out an explanation, the classroom door was kicked open. “Permission to enter!” Axel stood in the doorway, a cocky grin on his face. “Sir, the head of department asked me to pick up some books.” After a quick glance at the stamped permission slip, the teacher’s foul mood seemed to ease slightly. “Next time, manage your time better.” Axel strolled into the classroom. As he passed my desk, he subtly bumped into me. A notebook landed in my lap, along with a piece of paper folded into a heart. I quickly hid the note. The teacher was now standing in front of me, his presence suffocating. “Your homework, student?” The other players gave me looks of pity. I swallowed hard and pretended to search my desk. “Here it is, sir.” The teacher seemed surprised. He took the notebook and examined it closely. After a moment, he set it down, a hint of anger in his voice. “Very good. Since the new student has completed the assignment so well, we’ll just check his homework today to save time.” With that, he teleported to another player’s desk. “And yours?” he asked, his voice dripping with menace. The other players were going to hate me for this. But if it weren’t for Axel, I would have been done for. I secretly unfolded the note. I was hoping for a clue, but it was just an apology from Axel. [Babe must have been starving yesterday… I was worried you wouldn’t have the energy to do your homework, so I stayed up and did it for you. No need to thank me. See you on the roof at lunch. xoxo] I ignored the last sentence. My guilt vanished. This was just compensation, after all.

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It was at a game of Truth or Dare when someone asked Ethan, “If you could do it all over again, would you choose Leah or Jennifer?” Ethan downed a glass of liquor, a wistful look in his eyes. “Back then, I was too broke,” he said, his voice laced with regret. “A girl like Jennifer would have only suffered with me.” And so, he chose me. But things were different now. He had money, power, and status. He could protect Jennifer, shelter her from the world. He could even kneel on one knee and let her use his leg as a stepping stone. As for me? He just didn’t understand. “I’ve already made you Mrs. Cranston,” he’d say. “What more could you possibly want?” 1 Today is my birthday. Ethan asked me what my wish was. I tossed my earrings onto the nightstand and half-heartedly blew out the candles. Then, I clasped my hands together with exaggerated reverence and said with deadpan sincerity, “I wish we could get a divorce as soon as possible.” The words hung in the air, freezing him in place. The faint smile on his face slowly dissolved. After a long moment, he sighed and rubbed his temples, a picture of weary frustration. “Are you still angry?” he asked. “I rushed back, didn’t I?” “Don’t keep throwing the word ‘divorce’ around. I might actually start to believe you mean it.” I looked at him. The exhaustion was etched onto his face. A week of gallivanting around Scandinavia with Jennifer must have been tiring, followed by a nine-hour flight. He hadn’t even stopped, driving straight to our home at The Grandview to pick me up. He’d had a cake delivered and asked our housekeeper to buy fresh ingredients. The moment he walked through the door, he started cooking me an elaborate meal. He was still in his travel clothes, all for the sake of celebrating my birthday. In previous years, a gesture like this would have made me melt. I would have felt like the luckiest woman in the world. But this year was different. I felt nothing. If anything, I was annoyed. I met his gaze, my expression blank. “Divorce. Divorce. Divorce. Is that clear enough? I can keep saying it if you need me to. I’m begging you to take me seriously.” His face turned to ice. His jaw tightened, the muscles flexing in sharp relief. He kicked a chair, the legs screeching against the floor. “That’s enough, Leah.” “How long are you going to keep this up? Do you find this amusing?” He took a few deep breaths, trying to rein in his temper. “I didn’t miss your birthday. I came back to be with you. You can drop the act.” “I’m going to go take a shower,” he said, turning his back on me. “You need to cool down.” He went upstairs without a second glance. I stared at the sickeningly sweet buttercream cake and the still-steaming dishes on the table, genuinely baffled. Why on earth did he think him rushing back to celebrate my birthday was so important to me? My friends had planned a perfect night for me: fireworks, fine wine, and handsome men. It was supposed to be a flawless celebration. Then Ethan showed up and ruined everything. He had been the perfect gentleman, his voice laced with a deep affection as he took my hand. He smiled at my friends and said, “May I borrow Leah for the rest of the night?” Then he had whisked me away, his grip firm. I didn’t struggle. I didn’t protest. I even kept a smile plastered on my face. Not because I was happy, but because I’m used to keeping up appearances. It’s second nature to be civil, even when you’re screaming on the inside. 2 While Ethan showered upstairs, I sat on the sofa and lit a cigarette. The phone rang as I was starting my second. Jennifer’s name flashed on the screen. I watched it ring for a full thirty seconds, making no move to answer. I crushed the butt of my cigarette into the ashtray and poured myself a glass of wine. The phone rang again. Still Jennifer. This time, I answered and put it on speaker. Jennifer’s imperious, demanding voice filled the room. “Where’s Ethan? Put him on the phone.” I said nothing, downing the red wine in one gulp. “Leah, I know you’re there. Answer me.” “Get Ethan on the phone. I need to talk to him.” “Ugh, do you think I’d be calling you if his phone wasn’t turned off? This is so annoying!” Her voice was thick with barely suppressed anger. A cold smile touched my lips. “He’s in the shower.” “Is there something you need?” Jennifer fell silent. A few seconds later, she spoke again, her voice dripping with acid. “You two really don’t waste any time, do you?” “Is there anything you do besides screwing each other?” “Disgusting.” Her words made me chuckle. “What we do in our bed is perfectly legal. What’s it to you?” “Or is he supposed to stay celibate for you?” “What the hell are you talking about?” Jennifer shrieked, her composure cracking. “I wouldn’t stoop to sleeping with him. He might be a prize to you, but to me, Ethan Cranston is nothing.” She said it with a certain amount of conviction. I couldn’t be bothered to argue. “What do you want? If you’re not going to say, I’m hanging up.” “The code!” she said, her voice urgent. “What’s the code to the house? It’s this long string of numbers, I can never remember it. It’s so irritating.” 3 24563. The code. It was the passcode for every property we owned, the lock screen on Ethan’s phone. It had never changed. I had asked him once what the six digits meant. “Nothing,” he’d said dismissively. “Just a random number.” For a time, I believed him. Then one day, I picked up his phone and typed the numbers into the old T9 keypad. The letters that appeared spelled out: C-H-L-O-E. I said nothing. I ended the call and tossed the phone aside. As I was pouring myself another glass of wine, Ethan came downstairs, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was drying his hair when I handed him a folder. “What’s this?” “The divorce papers. Sign them.” Ethan shot me a cold look and started to walk past me toward the liquor cabinet. I swept my arm across the dining table. Plates, glasses, and food went crashing to the floor. The sound was deafening in the dead of night. Ethan’s fury finally erupted. He stalked toward me. “What the hell is wrong with you? Is this all because I was a few hours late for your birthday?” I laughed in his face. “Don’t flatter yourself. You’re not that important.” “You can sign these papers calmly, or we can burn everything to the ground, and then you can sign them. Your choice.” His face was a mask of rage. He threw the towel on the floor. “You’re being irrational.” He turned to go back upstairs, but my voice stopped him. “Jennifer called just now.” “She said she couldn’t reach you. She doesn’t know the code to her place and can’t get in.” Ethan froze. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?” “Did you give her the code?” “Why would I do that?” I asked, my voice glacial. His brow furrowed. He started to rush upstairs to change. But I was faster. I lunged forward and planted my foot squarely in the middle of his back. As he stumbled, I dropped down, pinning him with my knee and twisting his arms behind him in one smooth motion. He grunted in pain and roared, “Leah, what are you doing?” I leaned over him, slapping the folder against his cheek. “Sign the papers.” “If you don’t, you’re not leaving this house.” “Your precious little princess can freeze outside all night for all I care.” This time, Ethan was silent for a long, long time. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and defeated. “You know what I can’t stand about you? The way you always, always resort to violence.” 4 My relationship with Ethan is… complicated. In our poorest years, we lived in the same building, one floor apart, and never exchanged a single word. My mother was a beautiful woman who had me at nineteen and spent the rest of her life drifting from one man to another. My grandmother, determined I wouldn’t follow the same path, raised me like a boy. She even had me learn self-defense from the man downstairs. He was a boxing coach, a mountain of muscle, but he had a son who was perpetually frail, a boy he treated like a delicate porcelain doll. That was Ethan and his father. As kids, I was the one who protected Ethan. He was my little sidekick, and I was his shield. That lasted for ten years, until my grandmother passed away, and then his father was killed. We were just kids, left all alone in the world. We should have clung to each other for warmth. But for some reason I never understood, he started to push me away. I wasn’t a fool. I felt the cold shoulder, so I stopped trying. He was smart and handsome, but his cold demeanor and weak constitution kept him isolated. In high school, when boys are full of testosterone and cruelty, he became a target. I overheard some of the basketball players one day. “That pretty boy, he’s so annoying. We should break one of his fingers.” Ethan’s fingers. Those were the fingers he used to study, to write, to build a new life for himself. I followed them after school. I used the techniques Ethan’s father had taught me, and I taught them a lesson. I got a few cuts and bruises myself, but it didn’t matter. I’m tough. I can take a punch. When I was heading upstairs, my bag slung over my shoulder, Ethan was waiting for me in the shadows. He pulled me into his apartment and expertly cleaned my wounds. It was the first time I’d been inside since his father died. His dad had been killed trying to stop a mugging. He could have easily handled the attackers, but one of them had a knife. The person he saved moved away overnight, disappearing without a trace. The attacker went to prison, but there was no money for compensation. At the funeral, Ethan knelt before the grave, his face blank. He said his father was a fool who got what he deserved for overestimating his own strength. He said the thing he hated most was people who used violence to solve their problems. From that day on, he stopped speaking to me. But that afternoon, as he gently bandaged my hand, his head bowed low, he spoke. His voice was soft, almost a whisper. “Leah, don’t fight anymore. Especially not for me.” 5 It had been a long time since Ethan had looked so defeated. He scrawled his name at the bottom of the document, threw the divorce papers on the floor, got dressed, and stormed out. I, on the other hand, had the best night’s sleep I’d had in ages. The next morning, I called a moving company. Ethan returned just as the movers were carrying a massive oil painting out the door. “What are you doing? Who told you to touch that?” He jumped out of his car and ran over, his face dark. The movers exchanged nervous glances. I walked out of the house. “I did. Is there a problem?” Ethan took a deep breath. “What are you trying to pull now?” “Isn’t that my painting?” Jennifer appeared, getting out of the passenger seat. “Ethan, you bought it for me? You should have told me! You’re so annoying.” Despite her words, her eyes were sparkling as she gazed at the canvas. Ethan stiffened, his eyes darting toward me. I offered a serene smile. “Actually, I’m the one who bought it.” “I must have been blind back then,” I continued, my voice dripping with scorn. “Spent almost thirty thousand dollars on this thing. The more I look at it now, the more it disgusts me.” It was during the toughest period of Ethan’s startup. He was working around the clock, but he still made time to take me to an art exhibit. I didn’t know much about art, but I saw him standing in front of that painting for a long time, looking at it with a deep, wistful longing. So I saved every penny I earned over the next year and bought it for him as a birthday present. We moved many times after that, each house bigger than the last, but that painting always came with us. I thought he cherished it because it was a gift from me. Then he went to Hong Kong and brought Jennifer back. One day, she was painting in the garden, and I saw her signature. It was identical to the one on the oil painting. Do you know what it feels like to have your entire world shatter into a million pieces? It’s hard to describe. I just remember crouching on the floor for a long time, my face pale, the taste of rust in my mouth from clenching my jaw. 6 My words clearly hit a nerve with Jennifer. She lunged forward. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Ethan grabbed her arm, holding her back. Jennifer looked at him, incredulous. “You’re protecting her?” She yanked her arm free, her eyes red with fury, and spun around as if to run off. Ethan held on, but his voice softened. “Jennifer, stop. Go wait in the car. I’ll take you to meet Director Evans in a bit.” She pouted and shot me a glare, but she did as she was told. Ethan opened his mouth to speak. I looked at him with a half-smile. “Jennifer might not get it, but I do. You pretend to hold her back, but you’re really protecting her.” “But you don’t have to worry,” I added. “I won’t touch her. It’s not worth compromising myself for her sake.” For a moment, Ethan’s expression was rigid. But he was a master of composure, and he recovered quickly. “Don’t let your imagination run wild.” “With Jennifer… I’m just helping her out for old times’ sake.” “You don’t need to project your own dirty thoughts onto us.” Hypocrite. It was the only word that came to mind. I laughed coldly. “Is it that you don’t want to?” “No. It’s that you don’t deserve to.” Jennifer was a princess. When Ethan and I were living on five dollars a day, she wore hair clips that cost ten thousand dollars. We should have never even crossed paths with someone like her. But that year, she transferred to our high school for a semester. The arrogant, golden princess took one look at Ethan and decided she wanted him. “Hey, can I sit next to you?” “No.” “Can you help me with my homework?” “I don’t have time.” “Ethan, I like you.” “I don’t like you.” After being rejected repeatedly, the princess’s frustration turned to cruelty. She started targeting him. Spilling milk on his exam papers. Pouring a bowl of soup over his head. Mocking him for not being able to afford new shoes. Falsely accusing him of stealing her pen. Ethan told me to stay out of it, that he could handle it. But his grades were slipping. I took matters into my own hands. I found Jennifer and warned her to leave him alone, or she’d have to deal with me. Ethan was furious. He forced me to apologize to her and then carried her home on his back when she feigned an injury. “We can’t afford to make an enemy of her, Leah,” he told me later. “We just have to endure it. Endure it until we don’t have to answer to anyone.” I always thought he hated her. But people are complicated. There’s no such thing as pure love or pure hate. It’s always a tangled mess. 7 Ethan ignored the movers and went inside to grab some files. As he left, he tossed one last comment over his shoulder. “Do whatever you want.” So I did. I threw out the painting, the wedding photos, the master bedroom mattress, and even his entire wardrobe. A final truck hauled away the last of my belongings, and I was gone. That night, I slept on a makeshift bed on the floor of my new, still-unfurnished apartment. I stared at the ceiling until dawn before finally drifting off. When I woke up, I was in a properly made bed. I wasn’t surprised. I knew I hadn’t sleepwalked, and no burglar had broken in. Only one person could have found me here: Ethan. Sure enough, when I walked out of the bedroom, he was in the kitchen, cooking noodles. Ethan was a fast learner. In the years when we couldn’t afford takeout, he taught himself to cook. He could make anything taste good. I was the complete opposite. He never understood it. “Can’t you just follow the recipe? Why do you always have to improvise?” And I never understood him. “It’s just one green onion. What’s the big deal if we leave it out? Do you really have to go all the way to the store for it?” Those chaotic, messy days were full of life. But looking back, they feel like another lifetime. “You’re up? Brush your teeth, wash your face. Breakfast is ready.” I didn’t move. “The deed to this place is in my name. Don’t come here again.” The hand stirring the noodles froze. He turned off the stove, switched off the extractor fan, and turned to face me. “I can promise you,” he said, his voice low, “that Jennifer is not a threat to our marriage. You will always be Mrs. Cranston. What are you still not satisfied with?”

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Five years. That’s how long it had been since we’d torn our lives apart. In that time, Ethan Hayes had become a titan, his name synonymous with success. So, when the host of a live televised interview announced a special segment—dialing a random number from his phone—I never imagined my screen would light up. But it did. And I froze. On the television, I saw Ethan’s gaze fall on the selected number. The blood drained from his face, his composure cracking for a fraction of a second. The host, blissfully unaware, prattled on as the phone rang and rang, unanswered. A wave of relief washed over Ethan’s features. He thought he was safe. But in that moment, a reckless impulse took hold of me. I answered. “Long time no see, Mr. Hayes.” On screen, Ethan’s expression morphed into a mask of cold fury. The host stammered, quickly fabricating an excuse to end the call. 1 The line went dead. I tossed my phone aside and stared at the row of empty prescription bottles lined up on the counter. A silent monument to a battle already lost. That’s right. I was dying. The same year Ethan and I divorced, I was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. The doctors gave me five years, tops. So I vanished from Crestwood City, erasing myself from the world he inhabited. He must have assumed I was already gone, a ghost from a life he’d successfully buried. This call, this proof that I was still breathing, must have been a bitter disappointment. I swept the empty bottles into the trash and walked to the balcony, wrapping my thin arms around myself. Sunlight washed over me, but all I felt was a profound, soul-deep chill. The doctor’s latest verdict echoed in my mind. Three months. That’s all I had left. 2 I never expected to see her at the hospital pharmacy. Tiffany Cole, the woman Ethan cherished, the treasure he kept locked in the palm of his hand. I tried to hurry past, a ghost in the bustling hallway, but her voice snagged me. “Elara? It is you, isn’t it?” I froze for a heartbeat, my back still to her. I pulled my face mask up higher, my only thought to run. But it was too late. She was already standing in front of me. Sighing, I lowered the mask, mustering a weak, shoulder-shrugging smile. “Miss Cole. Fancy seeing you here.” Her eyes widened in shock as she took in my gaunt face. “It really is you.” Her gaze darted instinctively to the large paper bag of medications in my hand. “Are you sick? Why do you need so much medicine?” The bag was opaque; she couldn’t see the labels. But I didn’t believe for a second that Ethan hadn’t told her. He adored her. I was the obstacle, the painful memory between them. Telling her I was dying of cancer would have been a relief, a gift. I had no desire to linger. I took a step to leave, but she moved to block my path, her face a whirlwind of a thousand unasked questions. “Excuse me, Miss Cole.” “Can we just talk for a minute?” I ignored her, sidestepping her and walking away. I’d only taken a few steps when a soft thud echoed behind me. I turned. My breath hitched in my throat. “Miss Cole!” “Ma’am!” Two bodyguards rushed forward, kneeling to help the woman who had collapsed on the polished floor. I stood rooted to the spot, my eyes drawn to the tall, imposing figure striding down the hall. The air crackled around him, thick with an authority that suffocated everything else. “Mr. Hayes, Miss Cole has fainted,” one of the bodyguards reported, looking up. “Get her back to her room. Now,” the man—Ethan—commanded, his voice sharp as broken glass. The bodyguards hastily lifted Tiffany and carried her off. Suddenly, the corridor was empty, save for the two of us. I felt like all the air had been vacuumed from my lungs. No one could command a space like Ethan Hayes. “I didn’t touch her,” I said, my voice thin. “She fainted on her own.” His eyes, cold and dark, narrowed on me. “She’s been perfectly fine. Then she runs into you, and suddenly she collapses out of nowhere?” “She has a heart condition, doesn’t she? Isn’t fainting a possibility?” That struck a nerve. The wrong one. “Five years,” he hissed, his voice a low, dangerous growl. “And you’re still alive. I have to admit, I’m surprised. You’re more resilient than I gave you credit for.” My hands clenched into fists at my sides, nails digging into my palms. “My doctor just told me I’m set to live a long and healthy life. Sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Hayes.” I turned my back on him and walked away, not daring to look back. His voice followed me, a chilling promise. “Elara. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll disappear from Crestwood. I’ll pretend today never happened.” A sliver of ice traced its way down my spine. 3 By the time I returned home from a late grocery run, evening had settled over the city. A small cluster of neighbors was gathered by my apartment door, their hushed whispers ceasing as I approached. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I broke into a run. The door was ajar. Inside, my world had been annihilated. Everything—furniture, dishes, memories—was smashed, shattered, and destroyed. The bag of groceries slipped from my numb fingers, scattering across the floor. I bit down on my lip, hard, tasting blood. Drawing a shaky breath, I stepped into the kitchen. The refrigerator door hung open, and on the floor, amid a sea of broken glass, lay the shattered vials of my insulin. For a moment, I couldn’t breathe. The world tilted, and my knees gave out, sending me down into the glittering shards. A presence behind me made me look up. A man in a dark suit stood in the doorway. “Miss Flynn,” he said, his tone devoid of emotion. “Mr. Hayes asked me to remind you that you were the one who broke the agreement by returning to Crestwood.” He paused. “This is just a warning.” He turned to leave. My eyes, burning and red, fixed on his back. “Give him a message for me,” I choked out, my voice raw. “Tell him to bring whatever he’s got. Roots run deep. I’ll die in this city, right where I belong.” 4 Three days later, I found myself at Crestwood’s most prestigious cemetery, picking out a prime plot with a view. The agent was drawing up the contract when a flash of movement caught my eye. A small, injured cat tumbled from the top of the stone wall, landing in a heap near the foundation. I walked over and gently scooped it into my arms. Its tiny body trembled. “Shh, it’s okay,” I whispered. “As soon as I’m done here, I’ll take you to a vet.” “Mr. Hayes, our director is waiting for you upstairs.” My head snapped up. My gaze collided with Ethan’s. His eyes narrowed, a flicker of confusion in them. “What is she doing here?” he asked the manager guiding him. The manager, eager to please, answered immediately. “This young lady is here to purchase a plot, sir. She’s just chosen one.” “Don’t—” The word died in my throat, too late. A slow, cruel smirk spread across Ethan’s lips. “Is that so? In that case, I’m afraid there are no plots left to sell her.” He didn’t even look at me. “Cancel that contract. I’ll speak to your boss personally.” I clutched the small cat to my chest, a hollow ache spreading through me. “Ethan,” I called out, my voice shaking. “When I die, I have to be buried somewhere.” He paused on the stairs, just for a moment. “Miss Flynn,” he said, without turning around. “How you’re buried is no concern of mine.” My vision blurred. A symptom of the advanced cancer—temporary blindness. It usually passed quickly. “Don’t you feel any guilt, stealing a grave from a dying woman?” “No,” he answered, sharp and final, before continuing up the stairs and out of sight. As I walked out of the cemetery, the world was a hazy, indistinct blur. A man followed me out. He was one of the groundskeepers. “Miss,” he said quietly. “I know a place. They still sell plots there.” 5 Three hours later, I stood on a small hill on the outskirts of Crestwood, looking down at a simple, rectangular hole dug into the earth. It was remote, but the afternoon sun poured into the pit, making the soil itself seem warm and inviting. “This is my family’s land,” the groundskeeper explained. “We do traditional burials out here. Just dig a hole, and fill it back in.” He hesitated. “It’s not fancy, I know. But it’s cheap.” “How much?” “How about three hundred dollars?” I transferred him fifteen hundred. The extra was for a promise: that when the time came, he would be the one to cover me with that warm earth. He agreed instantly. 6 The pages of my calendar dwindled, one by one. Looking at the remaining balance in my bank account—money my parents had left me long ago—I decided on one last act of defiance. I took a cab to the most exclusive club downtown. I booked the largest private suite and ordered a half-dozen male models, all sharp jaws and broad shoulders. If I was going to die unloved, why not have a little fun first? I don’t know how long he’d been standing there, watching us play our drinking games, a silent, judgmental shadow in the open doorway. It was Ethan. One look at his thunderous face, and the half-bottle of champagne I’d consumed might as well have been water. His lips twisted into a sneer as he took in the scene. His assistant, Leo, stood just behind him, phone raised, recording everything. “Having fun, Miss Flynn?” he drawled, his voice dripping with contempt. “Finally showing your true colors, are we?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. That tone—always so distant, so mocking. The undisguised pleasure he took in finding my breaking point. But what was I even doing? Still letting his cold indifference hurt me? I was a fool. I forced a breezy smile. “Absolutely! It’s a blast. Care to join us, Mr. Hayes?” He recoiled as if I’d offered him poison. “No, thank you. This isn’t my scene,” he said, his voice clipped. “Enjoy yourself.” He turned and strode away. Over his shoulder, I heard him instruct his assistant. “Send that to my grandmother. Let her see the ‘gentle and well-mannered’ daughter-in-law she was always so fond of.” 7 The party was over. I dismissed everyone but one of the young men, asking him to wait with me in the suite. The lights were dim, and I sat wrapped in the shadows, my mind a complete blank. “Achoo!” The air conditioning was blasting, and I hugged myself, shivering. Only I knew that in the darkness, tears were streaming down my face. The man I loved—the man I still loved, God help me—hated me to his very core. I eventually led the young model out of the club, right as Ethan and his entourage were preparing to leave. Their laughter died as they saw us. Ethan was the last to look over, his face an unreadable mask. “Taking him home with you?” he asked, his voice flat. I lifted my chin, tightening my grip on the young man’s hand. “Yes. I’m quite pleased with him.” I expected another sarcastic jab, another cruel remark. Instead, he just stared at me, his eyes dark and intense. I held my breath, then led the model to a waiting car and disappeared into the night. 8 When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the harsh, sterile white of a hospital ceiling. The sun was blinding. I tried to pull the sheet over my head, but a hand yanked it back down. “Hiding now, are we?” a nurse scolded. “Didn’t think about this when you were out drinking, did you? Forgetting you’re a patient?” I managed a weak, guilty smile. “Lesson learned. I’ll never do it again.” Days ago, not long after leaving the club, I had started vomiting blood. The terrified taxi driver had diverted straight to the ER. 9 After days of lying in bed, I felt strong enough to walk. I decided to stretch my legs, wandering the quiet hospital floors. As I passed a VIP suite, I heard voices and paused. “Ethan, can’t I go home yet? I’m so bored of this place.” It was Tiffany. “The doctor said you’re still a bit anemic. Just a couple more days of observation.” Ethan’s voice was gentle, soothing. Tiffany pouted. “Everyone’s a little anemic. It’s not a big deal.” My feet felt glued to the floor. Through the crack in the door, I saw Ethan reach out and gently stroke her hair. “Be good. Trust me. Just two more days.” She stuck her tongue out playfully. “Okay. By the way… is Elara really… dying?” “Yes,” he confirmed. “I had someone look into her case file. A month, maybe a little more. That’s it.” I watched his face, searching for any flicker of emotion. But there was nothing. He was a man of immense self-control, a fortress of secrets, but as he spoke of my death, his expression was placid. His breathing was even. My life, my death—it truly meant nothing to him. “But she really loved you,” Tiffany said softly. “I heard Alex and the guys talking about it. Once, they were playing a game, and they joked that you needed a liver transplant. Without a second of hesitation, she said she’d give you half of hers.” She looked down. “When they asked me, I hesitated. I was scared it would hurt.” Tears welled in her eyes. Ethan sat on the edge of the bed and pulled her into his arms. “Silly girl,” he murmured. “I love you. You don’t have to do anything for me. If it ever came to that, I’d be the one making the sacrifice for you.” I turned and walked away, my legs carrying me to the end of another, deserted corridor. The world outside the window was bathed in the hazy, melancholic light of dusk. All these years, the doomed connection between us… it was as simple as this: I loved Ethan Hayes. And he didn’t love me. My love hadn’t just been unrequited; it had curdled, transforming his indifference into a deep, abiding hatred. A hatred so profound, he was now patiently waiting for me to die. 10 Sunlight broke through the clouds. I was packing my small bag, determined to leave. “What do you think you’re doing?” I turned to face the young nurse, Nurse Miller. I shrugged. “Going home. This bed is killing my back.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. She snatched the bag from my hand and threw it back onto the bed. “Go home? Are you insane? Look at yourself! You’re in no condition to be discharged.” She put her hands on her hips. “Don’t you know? The Grim Reaper can come for you at 3 AM, but a hospital can keep him waiting a few extra days. You go home, and he can take you whenever he damn well pleases.” We stared each other down for a long moment. Finally, my strength gave out. I sank to the floor, hot tears splashing onto the linoleum. “But I don’t want to live any longer, Nurse Miller,” I whispered, my hand clutching the hem of her scrubs. “Please, just let me go.” She looked stunned. “But… what about your family? You have to think of them.” I shook my head. “I’ve been an orphan since I was a little girl.” She gasped. “Then… isn’t there anyone in this world you care about?” I shook my head again. “Not anymore.” This time, it was her eyes that filled with tears. “No wonder,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “You were unconscious for days. Not a single visitor came.” She knelt beside me and wrapped me in a tight, fierce hug. Then, she told me she would handle my discharge papers. As dusk fell, I walked out of the hospital. Ethan and Tiffany remained inside, the hospital walls separating us into two different worlds. This time, as I left, it felt different. I felt lighter. Like I had finally, truly let something go. 11 The calendar on my wall had only one month left. I booked a flight. A final trip. I never could have anticipated the cruel twist of fate. As the plane was about to take off, the last passenger to board was Ethan Hayes. And his seat was right next to mine. I stared in disbelief. After the hospital, I thought I’d never have to see him again. He noticed me at the same time. As he stowed his luggage in the overhead bin, I quickly put on an eye mask, shutting out the world. He was annoyed by my presence, and I had no desire to see him, let alone invite more humiliation. The first-class seats were spacious, designed for sleeping. I feigned sleep for almost the entire flight, my hair probably a tangled mess against the headrest. Beside me, I could hear the quiet, steady tapping of a keyboard. He was working. Only when the pilot announced our final descent did I sit up and remove the mask. I accepted a small snack from the flight attendant, needing the energy. “Where are you headed?” I looked up, surprised. He was talking to me. I took a sip of milk. “Isn’t everyone on this plane going to Veridia?” His expression tightened. “I mean, where in Veridia?” “Are you concerned about me?” I asked, a hint of disbelief in my voice. He gave me a look that screamed, Are you an idiot? Just then, the plane touched down. Of course he wasn’t concerned. He was terrified we’d run into each other again. I stood up and grabbed my bag from the bin. “It’s a big state, Ethan,” I said, not answering his question. “We won’t see each other again.” I was the first one off the plane. I’m done loving you. 12 Three days later, we ran into each other in the lobby of the Grand Veridian Hotel. Apparently, great minds—or at least, people with money—thought alike. A part of me knew our paths were fated to cross one last time. “Elara.” I had already walked past him, but his voice stopped me in my tracks. I took a deep breath before turning around. “Is there a problem? There are plenty of other hotels in this city, Mr. Hayes. You’re free to change yours.” “Judging by your attitude, I take it you’ve finally come to your senses.” I wasn’t expecting that. “I have,” I said, the words feeling surprisingly true. “I’ve let it go. I wish you and Miss Cole a lifetime of happiness.” “Thank you,” he replied, his tone even. “And I hope your remaining days are… peaceful.” My hand clenched into a fist. “They will be.” I was about to walk away for good. “Mr. Hayes, I have the laptop. We can head to the meeting now.” Ethan’s assistant, Leo, had just joined us. It happened in a flash. A man with a knife burst from the crowd, shoving past me, his eyes fixed on the man behind me. “Ethan, look out!” The warning barely left my lips before the man was on him. But I had already moved, throwing myself between them. A searing, white-hot pain exploded in my abdomen. “Get the hell off him!” “You crazy bitch!” The world devolved into a chaotic blur of shouting and motion. I felt a strange disconnect, as if the blood pouring from my body wasn’t mine. But I refused to let go, my fingers a vise grip on the attacker’s arm. So much blood. It hurt… my grip was slipping… Then Ethan was there, a blur of controlled violence. He kicked the attacker to the ground, sent the knife skittering across the marble floor, and his eyes—his eyes landed on me. For the first time, I saw them widen with an emotion I couldn’t name. It looked like terror. “Elara.” He’d never said my name with such softness. He dropped to his knees, catching me as my legs gave out. Leo was pinning the attacker down, shouting into his phone. “This… Miss Flynn?” Ethan roared, a sound of pure primal fury. “What are you staring at? Call an ambulance!” I tried to speak, but only blood gurgled from my lips. I clamped my mouth shut. “Don’t talk,” he commanded, his voice shaking as he gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth. “We’re almost at the hospital. Just hold on.”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “394202”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

Five years after my death, the Port City police finally dug up my bones. Inside my mouth, they found a custom-made microchip and a miniature transmitter. Everyone on the force knew what that meant. It meant that five years ago, I wasn’t the shame of the PCPD, and I certainly wasn’t a traitor. It meant that even while being tortured beyond human endurance, I never stopped trying to transmit intelligence on the drug cartel. My wife became a wreck, my brother swore vengeance on my killer, and the rage from it all landed my mentor in the ICU. But me? Floating as a soul in the air, I could only laugh. The killer? Wasn’t it the man standing right beside my wife? Her childhood friend, Jakie Kinnear? 1 Five years ago, I was silenced by a conspiracy between Jakie and the drug traffickers. He used my ID to hack into the system and leak the entire list of undercover officers, leading to the brutal retaliation and murder of over a hundred of our own. When my wife, Cathy, led the SWAT team to bust down the door, they found him covered in blood, sobbing. He told them I had sold out my colleagues for profit and had even tried to kill him to cover my tracks. He claimed that if backup hadn’t arrived when it did, forcing me to flee, he would have been killed on the spot. The staged crime scene, the internal system logs showing my access credentials, and a massive wire transfer that appeared in my mother’s medical account—it all corroborated the story Jakie spun. My betrayal was a fact. My wife’s love for me curdled into a bottomless hatred. My mentor publicly disowned me. My own brother, who once idolized me, took out a newspaper ad to sever all ties. Abandoned by everyone I loved, I became the ultimate disgrace of the Port City Police Department. Until five years later, when they finally busted a major drug ring. While searching the dog kennel the traffickers used to hide their product, they unearthed the skeletal remains of a man, buried for five years. They unearthed me. They were about to pack up when a K-9 suddenly started barking furiously at an old oak tree in the corner of the yard. I floated in the air, watching the German Shepherd tear at the ground, dirt flying. The officer in charge was my brother, Mark. The last time I saw him, he was just a rookie with a hot head. Now, he was leading his own team. Seeing the dog’s frantic behavior, Mark frowned and raised a hand. “Dig.” Several officers immediately grabbed shovels and surrounded the spot. The first shovelful turned up nothing but dark soil and tangled roots. They dug deeper and deeper, but still, there was nothing. Just as they were about to give up, a shovel struck something hard with a dull thud. “Got something!” They cleared the dirt away, layer by layer. But instead of the drugs they expected, they found a skeleton, curled into a fetal position, with horrifying scraps of tissue still clinging to it. Mark knelt, his brow furrowed so tightly it looked painful. “Get the M.E. and forensics down here,” he ordered, his eyes never leaving the remains. He didn’t recognize me. He couldn’t see that this grotesque collection of bones was the brother he once worshipped. I suppose it made sense. Five years underground is more than enough time for insects and decay to strip away familiar flesh, leaving only this. Mark pulled on a pair of gloves and gently brushed his fingers over the crisscrossing knife marks and canine bite marks etched into the bone. The medical examiner arrived quickly. He knelt and examined the skeleton, his voice calm and clinical. “Time of death is estimated at five to six years ago. Multiple sharp-force injuries and canine bite marks are present. The victim suffered prolonged torture before death.” He pointed to the deep cuts on the larger bones. “The wounds are numerous and widespread, suggesting a retaliatory motive.” “Retaliatory?” a young officer nearby murmured. “Five to six years ago… in a drug lord’s kennel… You don’t think this is connected to that botched operation, do you?” “When the undercover list was leaked, a lot of our guys were targeted. Many of them just disappeared. This could be one of them,” another officer added, before spitting on the ground. “All because of that traitor, Alex Chen. Sold out his own for money, got so many good cops killed. He’s the goddamn shame of the PCPD.” Alex Chen. The shame of the PCPD. Mark’s hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white. “Shut up!” an older officer who had been there five years ago snapped, elbowing the younger cop. He then forced a strained smile. “Mark, the kid’s new, doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Don’t take it to heart.” But Mark just let out a cold, bitter laugh, his eyes sharp. “He’s not wrong. Traitors to the badge deserve to be nailed to a cross.” He stood up, his voice like ice. “And one day, I’ll be the one to drag that bastard Alex Chen back here myself.” I hovered in place, my soul feeling like it was being torn in two. The traitor they were talking about… the one who sold out his friends, his badge, his soul… was me? My thoughts spiraled into chaos. How could this be? I died protecting that evidence. How could I possibly be a traitor? Just then, the M.E. leaned in closer, noticing something odd. “Strange. The jaw is clenched shut. It looks like there’s something in his mouth.” Every head snapped in his direction. The M.E., wearing latex gloves, carefully tried to pry open the mandible. But after five years, the bone was fused tight. “It’s locked too tight. Forcing it here could cause damage,” he said grimly. “We’ll have to take it back to the lab for a full examination to see what’s inside.” I was still drowning in confusion, the weight of the injustice and rage a poison dissolving my very essence. Just as the overwhelming emotions threatened to extinguish me completely, an irresistible force pulled me away. When I came to my senses, I was floating down the brightly lit hallway of the city precinct, trailing helplessly behind a tall, sharp figure. It was my wife, Cathy. She wore a crisp uniform, the insignia on her shoulder indicating she was now a Captain. Five years had stripped away the last traces of her youth, leaving behind a sharper, more defined silhouette. But a permanent weariness clung to her like a shadow, a gloom that sunlight could never seem to pierce. “Captain,” the M.E.’s voice cut through my haze. “We have the preliminary results. TOD is five years. Multiple sharp-force injuries and animal bite marks. We can confidently say it was a torture-murder, retaliatory in nature.” “DNA is still being processed. But if the victim turns out to be one of ours…” The M.E. paused, his voice dropping low. “Then there’s a high probability he was a victim of that failed sting operation five years ago.” Cathy’s hand, hanging by her side, curled into a fist so tight her nails dug into her palm. Her jaw clenched, suppressing a wave of emotion. “Cathy?” A gentle male voice interrupted. Jakie Kinnear, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, walked up and slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. She didn’t flinch or even look at him, as if the touch was a well-worn habit. My heart sank like a stone. Jakie nodded at the M.E., then turned to Cathy, his voice soft. “Don’t overthink it. You’ve been working around the clock to take down this crew. You need to go home and rest.” He paused, his tone becoming more intimate. “Besides, Lily misses you. You can’t leave her with the Captain forever. A girl needs her mother.” After a moment of silence, Cathy finally nodded. Watching her, I felt like I’d been struck by lightning. A horrifying suspicion exploded in my mind. My soul followed them back to the home that was once so familiar to me. The door had barely opened when a little girl with pigtails came bouncing towards them, shouting cheerfully, “Daddy! Mommy!” The icy mask on Cathy’s face melted instantly. She swooped down and lifted the girl into her arms, her voice softer than I’d ever heard it. “Was Lily a good girl at school today?” Jakie followed, smiling as he pinched the girl’s cheek. “Good? Her teacher said she was stealing blocks from the other kids again. She’s a little rascal, not a proper young lady at all.” Just then, our old mentor, Captain Chen, emerged from the kitchen carrying a pot of soup. “Perfect timing. Wash up, dinner’s ready.” He wiped his hands and picked up his phone. “I’d better call Mark. That kid’s probably trying to live on instant noodles again.” The call connected. “Get over here and eat!” the Captain barked into the phone. “Alright, alright, I know you. Hold on, I’ll have Jakie bring some over.” Mark’s voice came through the speaker, laced with a smile. “Thanks, Captain! You’re the best! Tell Jakie I said thanks, too!” “You little punk,” the Captain chuckled, hanging up. He turned to Jakie as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “Jakie, would you mind running this over to Mark? Once he gets buried in a case file, he forgets to eat.” “Of course,” Jakie said, taking the insulated container. “Happy to.” The exchange was so seamless, so routine, as if it had happened a thousand times before. I floated in the air, numbly watching the perfect picture of domestic harmony below. The man who orchestrated my murder had taken my place, enjoying the affection and the titles that were once mine. And my wife, my brother, my mentor… they had all accepted it. A searing pain ripped through the core of my soul, a pain so intense it felt like my consciousness was being ground to dust. Captain Chen was still talking to Mark on the phone, his voice filled with concern. “Solving cases is important, but your health comes first. You can’t be like Alex…” My name. It fell into the room like a shard of ice, shattering the warmth. All conversation stopped. In the suffocating silence, the little girl blinked her big eyes. “Mommy, who’s Alex? Why did everyone stop talking?” Cathy’s arms tightened around the child, her face draining of all color. Jakie’s smile froze on his lips. Sensing the shift, the girl fell silent. The Captain cleared his throat, a flicker of regret in his eyes. “Look at me, getting old and senile. No reason to bring him up… my fault, my fault.” Mark’s voice, deliberately light, piped in from the phone. “That’s right, Captain! You’re getting old. Eat more, talk less!” Jakie forced a pained smile. “Captain, Mark, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that.” “Before… everything happened, Alex was a good cop. He did a lot of good. It’s natural that it’s hard for everyone to accept. I understand…” Clang! Cathy slammed her spoon back into her bowl. The sharp sound of ceramic hitting ceramic echoed in the silent room. Her face was a dark storm cloud, her voice dripping with undisguised disgust. “Enough! Don’t say that name. It dirties your mouth.” The fragile peace shattered again. A flicker of triumph, almost imperceptible, crossed Jakie’s face, but he continued to play the peacemaker. “Cathy, don’t be like that. The Captain and Mark are here, and besides…” “She’s right!” Mark’s voice cut through the phone, sharp as a razor. “After what he did, I stopped considering him my brother. As far as I’m concerned, Jakie, you’re the only brother I have.” The Captain’s face hardened, his tone unyielding. “To sell out your brothers in arms for money… he is a permanent stain on this department’s history!” “If I had known, I never would have taken him on as my student! I wish I had never met him!” I floated, and I listened. Every word was a white-hot poker, twisting and stabbing at a soul that no longer had flesh. The pain was a thousand times worse than any torture Jakie and the traffickers had inflicted upon my body. My revered mentor, my own flesh and blood, the woman who was my entire world… Their words hurt more than anything. After this united front of condemnation, the suffocating tension finally broke. The air in the room seemed to warm again, filled with the camaraderie of a shared enemy. The Captain went back to lecturing Mark about eating properly. Jakie smiled and got ready to leave with the food. Cathy’s icy expression softened as she picked up her spoon again. Lily, sensing the storm had passed, started humming softly to herself. They sat together under the warm lights, the aroma of food filling the air, a perfect, happy family. And I, Alex Chen, had been erased by the people I loved most. Replaced. Forgotten. Like a ghost who had never existed at all. … I first met Cathy seven years ago. She wasn’t a Captain then, just a fiery young detective working a stolen goods case. I was a cybersecurity specialist, a white-hat hacker on loan to her unit. The case was at a standstill. All conventional methods had failed. In a briefing, I proposed a radical plan: use hacking techniques to trace their online sales network from the inside out. But it required someone to go undercover to an offline meeting point. Everyone thought I was insane. The risks were too high, the chance of success too low. Only Cathy. Her eyes lit up. She stood without hesitation, her voice clear and firm. “I think it’ll work. I’ll go undercover. What do you need me to do?” The fire in her eyes that day burned itself into my heart. The operation was a success, and our relationship blossomed with every case we worked side-by-side. She remembered I only drank sugar-free cola when I was coding, that I needed a cup of extra-strong coffee to function after an all-nighter. Everyone said I was the luckiest man alive to have found a wife so capable and caring. I thought so too. We got married. We were happy. I thought we would walk this path together until we were old and gray. Then Jakie showed up. He was Cathy’s childhood friend, the boy next door. He returned from overseas with a fancy title—Network Security Expert—and was assigned as her partner. At first, for Cathy’s sake, I tried to be friendly. But then, Jakie would call, complaining he was lonely or stressed, and she would drop everything—including the dinner we were in the middle of making—to go drinking with him. Jakie would claim an old injury was acting up, and she would leave me sitting alone in a restaurant full of our relatives to drive him to the hospital. The final straw was our anniversary trip, a vacation we had planned for months. One call from Jakie, a simple, “Cathy, I’m feeling down,” was all it took for her to cancel our flights. As I stood there, abandoned again, I finally realized the painful truth: whenever Jakie was around, I would never be Cathy’s priority. Her warmth, her focus—it was never exclusively mine. The resentment and anger I’d suppressed for so long finally erupted, and we started fighting constantly. Every time, she would look at me with that same exhausted, uncomprehending expression. “Alex, you weren’t always this petty.” “Jakie’s new here, he’s having a hard time adjusting. What’s wrong with me helping him?” “I spend my days chasing leads, my nerves are shot. It’s not like your job, sitting comfortably in front of a computer! I don’t come home to listen to this nonsense!” “If there was something between us, it would have happened long before you! Can’t you just be rational for once and stop imagining things?” Her words were like needles of ice, piercing the softest parts of my heart. Not fatal, but a constant, dull ache. I was so tired. During our last fight, I looked her in the eye and said, for the first time, “Cathy, let’s separate.” I never expected the backlash. Our colleagues said I was being paranoid, stressed out from work. My mentor slammed his fist on the table and called me a fool for throwing away a woman like Cathy. My brother called, confused. “Bro, you’ll never find another woman like her. Stop being stubborn!” Even Cathy grabbed my hand, her eyes red, her voice trembling. “Alex, what do you want from me? Please, don’t say that. Anything but that.” I felt trapped, surrounded by a chorus of pleas and accusations. Just as I was about to suffocate from the isolation, Jakie approached me. He wore a perfect, apologetic smile. He offered to join my ongoing investigation into the dark web drug cartel as a “technical consultant.” He swore to me, his tone almost pleading, “Alex, I know you have the wrong idea about me. After this operation is over, after we help you take this organization down, I’ll request a transfer. I’ll disappear from your lives forever, I promise.” I almost laughed in his face. I had already discovered he was far less competent than his reputation suggested. I turned him down flat. But somehow, he always knew our next move. Every time we were close to a breakthrough, he would conveniently appear, disrupting our progress with some seemingly plausible excuse—an “urgent” piece of intel that turned out to be useless, or a supposed “security breach” that required us to halt operations. The investigation dragged on. The pressure from our superiors mounted. I was backed into a corner. For the sake of finally bringing down that poison-peddling cartel, I gritted my teeth, swallowed my pride, and agreed to let him join the team. I thought I was trading a compromise for the greater good. Instead, I traded it for a one-way ticket to hell.

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My best friend, Lila, and I married brothers. A year later, we were both pregnant. Then came the bombshell: the hospital diagnosed her unborn son with Supermale Syndrome. The internet exploded, begging her to terminate. She refused. Her son grew up a prodigy, a sweet, brilliant boy who made a mockery of all the online hate. My son? He was born a monster. He bled me dry, destroyed my family, and when I finally cut him off, he stabbed me eighteen times for the deed to my house. As I lay dying, Lila smirked, thanking me for raising her perfect boy. They’d swapped our sons at birth. Now, my eyes snap open. I’m back. Back on the day of the diagnosis. 1 I’ve been reborn on the day my best friend’s son was diagnosed with Supermale Syndrome. Lila and I are in the back of my husband’s car. She’s beaming, holding up her prenatal report, ready to post it online and show off. “My son has an extra male chromosome. You know what that means? He’s going to be the manliest of men.” She’d just finished typing out her caption when I reached over and stopped her. Lila shot me an irritated look. “Clara, what are you doing? Are you jealous my son is special?” I took a deep breath, keeping my voice gentle. “Lila, are you crazy? We’re influencers now, remember? Your baby’s genetics are incredible, but what if you post this and it stirs up a storm of jealousy? People get nuts online. What if some creep gets obsessed, finds us, and tries something? We’d never see it coming.” My words hit their mark. Lila’s expression shifted, and she grabbed my hand. “Clara, you’re so right. Thank you for looking out for me. You’re my best friend, truly. I knew marrying into the same family meant we’d always have each other’s backs.” I fought the urge to recoil, gently pulling my hand away. A wave of relief washed over me as she put her phone away, abandoning her plan to brag about her “supermale” baby. Over the past year, Lila and I had built a decent following online. The gimmick of two best friends marrying two brothers was a hit. We shared snippets of our daily lives, and our channel, with its hundred-thousand-plus followers, became a source of envy for many. In my last life, when she posted that video, she was met with a tidal wave of ridicule. The entire internet pleaded with her to abort the child. But our mother-in-law, Martha, encouraged her, and Lila defiantly announced to the world that her son would be smarter and more devoted than any normal child. The internet waited, hungry for drama. But the joke was on them. Lila’s son was born and he was… perfect. He was a gentle, obedient child, a straight-A student who topped his class with seemingly no effort. He became a living, breathing “I told you so” to the entire internet. Riding the wave of this narrative—”The Genius Son with Supermale Syndrome”—Lila became a viral sensation, raking in tens of thousands a month. And me? My son was born a monster. The lies started at five. In kindergarten, he slipped razor blades into a little girl’s lunch, nearly slicing her tongue off. My husband, Adam, and I paid her family over twenty thousand dollars. When he started elementary school, he became the ringleader of a vicious bullying campaign. His grades were abysmal. We bounced between six different schools in six years, paying out over a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in settlements for the kids he intentionally hurt. Our savings were wiped out. Even then, we didn’t give up on him. I quit my job, dedicating every waking moment to guiding him, trying to nurture some seed of goodness within him. It was useless. After a few desperate, harsh punishments, he seemed to straighten up. We allowed ourselves a sliver of hope, thinking maybe, just maybe, we were turning a corner. Then he raped a four-year-old girl. And killed her. He came home afterward as if nothing had happened, cool and calm, until the police knocked on our door. Adam and I felt our hair turn grey overnight. In that moment, I wanted him locked away forever. I wanted him to get the death penalty, to give that little girl’s family some semblance of justice. We decided to sell our house to pay the damages. But before we could, the girl’s family took their own revenge. They broke into our home and killed Adam. I was on the phone with 911 when my son, who had snuck back into the house, attacked me. Eighteen stabs. As my life bled out onto the floor, I saw him run into Lila’s arms, crying, “Mommy.” Lila looked down at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Thank you, Clara,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sincerity, “for taking such good care of my son all these years.” That’s when I understood. She had switched our babies in the hospital nursery. And Martha, our mother-in-law, who always pretended to treat us equally, helped them cover it all up. She fed the media a story, painting Adam and me as abusive parents, claiming our cruelty had twisted the boy’s already fragile nature. After our deaths, we were vilified online. People even started to pity the monster who killed us. Then Lila stepped forward, the benevolent savior. She made a public statement, her voice thick with fake emotion, promising to take in the “troubled boy” and ensure he never harmed anyone again. The internet lauded her as a saint. Her follower count skyrocketed. I hated them. The rage was a fire in my soul, a screaming, endless inferno. Perhaps God, or whatever force governs the universe, felt that fire. Because it sent me back. I looked at Lila, her face aglow with smug satisfaction, and offered a faint smile. “Exactly. So let’s just keep this quiet until the babies are born.” I wasn’t a saint. I wasn’t going to save the world from this unborn terror. No, I was going to let Lila reap what she sowed. I was going to watch as her precious son tore her life apart, piece by bloody piece. 2 We arrived home shortly after. The moment we walked through the door, Martha rushed to greet us, her voice loud and grating. “What did the doctor say? Two grandsons, I hope?” I frowned. I knew I was having a boy, but I would have loved a girl just as much. Martha’s blatant preference for sons always rubbed me the wrong way. Lila, however, proudly handed the prenatal report to Martha. “I don’t know about Clara—she was too embarrassed to say—but I’ve got a guaranteed boy in here. And not just any boy. He’s a supermale!” Martha looked confused. “A supermale? What’s that?” “It’s exactly what it sounds like,” Lila puffed out her chest. “More male than the average male. The ultimate man, the alpha of alphas!” Martha’s face split into a wide, greedy grin. She stared at Lila’s stomach as if it were solid gold. Then her eyes drifted to me, and her expression soured. “Hmph. Too embarrassed to say. Must not be my precious grandson, then.” I didn’t bother to correct her. She took my silence as confirmation and stomped off to the kitchen. Lila’s eyes glinted as she turned to “comfort” me. “It’s okay, Clara. We’re best friends, remember? My son is your son too. When he grows up to be successful, he’ll take care of his favorite aunt.” In my past life, those words would have moved me to tears. Now, I just gave her a weak smile, not missing the flicker of calculation in her eyes. I knew exactly what she was thinking. Adam and I had worked hard, saved up, and managed to put a down payment on a house in a good school district. Lila was already planning on how that house would one day belong to her son. It wasn’t until after I died in my past life, when Lila eagerly transferred the deed to her name, that I finally understood the depth of her scheming. She’d sent that monster to kill me because she was afraid I’d sell the house to compensate the little girl’s family. A cold smirk touched my lips. In this life, her plans were destined to go up in flames. 3 Adam dropped us off and headed back to work. He wouldn’t be home until dinner. With both Lila and I pregnant, Martha had taken over all the cooking. Before she started, Echo, Martha’s youngest daughter and our sister-in-law, came to ask what we wanted to eat. I never cared much for Echo. She was moody and difficult, and after a few failed attempts to be friendly, I’d given up. Besides, in my last life, she was one of the people who testified to the media that I’d abused the boy. Oddly enough, she and Lila got along famously. “I’m in the mood for something spicy,” I said casually. Echo immediately turned to Lila. Their conversation was perfectly audible from the living room. Lila wanted sour. So I quickly added, “Could you make ours separately? I really can’t stomach anything sour right now.” Without even looking at me, Echo mumbled, “Got it,” and disappeared into the kitchen to relay the message. Martha bustled around for a while, and by the time Adam got home, dinner was ready. As she placed the last dish on the table, my face was darker than the bottom of a burnt pot. Before me sat a spread of sour cabbage fish, pickled green beans, and a pitcher of plum juice. The only non-sour dish was a plate of steamed vegetables… sprinkled liberally with green onions. In the year I had lived with this family, everyone knew I detested green onions. The smell alone was enough to make me gag. This wasn’t an oversight. This was a message. Adam noticed I hadn’t picked up my chopsticks. “What’s wrong?” I said nothing, but a smug smile flashed across Lila’s face. She took a large bite of the fish, sighing in satisfaction. “Mom, this is delicious! Thank you! Clara, why aren’t you eating? Is Mom’s cooking not to your taste?” The smile on Martha’s face vanished, replaced by a scowl. “I slave away all day, cleaning and cooking for you two, and this is the thanks I get? Lila’s the only one who appreciates it. If you don’t want to eat, then someone else can do the cooking from now on!” Echo, picking at her food, chimed in with a sneer. “You should be grateful you have food to eat at all. So picky. If you don’t like it, go call your own mother to cook for you. Such a drama queen.” The passive-aggressive remarks sent a jolt of fury through me. Adam saw the storm brewing in my eyes and was about to intervene, but I shot to my feet. The sudden movement startled everyone at the table. “I have lived in this house for a year,” I began, my voice dangerously calm. “I have said countless times that I hate green onions, yet you put them in everything. Fine. I can order my own food. But since I got pregnant, you’ve insisted that takeout is unhealthy and that I have to eat what you make.” My voice rose. “I told you before dinner I wanted spicy. Forget spicy, the one dish that isn’t sour is covered in the one thing you know I can’t eat. Are you trying to force me to eat sour? And after all that, you have the nerve to call me a drama queen? What, did I marry into this family just to be treated like I don’t exist?” I’d always been the quiet, agreeable one. “Sweet” was the word people used to describe me. For the past year, I had swallowed every minor injustice, every little slight, just to keep the peace. But not anymore. I’d already died once. I was done being quiet. No one, not a single person at that table, had expected this from me. Humiliated by my public defiance, Martha’s face turned beet red. Her voice boomed like a foghorn. “So now I’m wrong for cooking for you? It’s food, isn’t it? You kids have it too easy! When I was your age, we were lucky to have wild vegetables, and we ate every last scrap! This nonsense about not eating onions or sour food… who do you think you are, a princess?” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Did you like eating wild vegetables, or did you just have no other choice? My parents spoiled me rotten. They cooked whatever I wanted. Your past hardships have absolutely nothing to do with me, so don’t you dare try to lecture me. My husband and I pay for the groceries in this house. So yes, I think I’m entitled to a spicy meal!” At the mention of money, Martha flinched. “So what if your husband is successful?” she muttered, her confidence wavering. “I worked my fingers to the bone to raise him. He owes me that much!” Lila’s husband, Jake, who had recently been laid off and was unemployed, stared grimly at his plate. My husband, Adam, feeling for his brother, had been covering all the household expenses. I turned my gaze on them. “Show me the law that says a man has to support his entire extended family. Are you all so comfortable living off us for free?” My words hit their targets. Not just Jake, but Echo too, looked deeply uncomfortable. Adam grabbed my arm, hissing, “Groceries don’t cost that much. Drop it.” I let out another cold laugh. Honestly, as long as his family wasn’t involved, Adam was a decent husband. But his fierce, almost blind loyalty to them was the reason I had endured so much from his mother in my past life. Well, I was done enduring. I looked my husband dead in the eye and spoke, each word a shard of ice. “If you dare side with them today, Adam, tomorrow we are getting divorced.”

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At seven years old, my parents were taken from me in a carefully orchestrated car crash. My older brother, steeling his heart against my desperate cries, sent me to an orphanage. He told me, “Aurora, it’s too dangerous to be with me. Once I’ve taken care of everything, I’ll come back and bring you home.” What my brother didn’t know was that he had sent me to a place of nightmares, a corrupt orphanage where I struggled to survive, where I often wished for death. But the thought of my brother, alone and grieving, was the only thing that kept me going. I couldn’t bear to cause him more pain. On my eighteenth birthday, he finally came for me, bringing his adopted sister, Cici, with him. He held Cici’s hand, his face etched with guilt as he looked at me. “Aurora, Cici has been through so much with me, wandering from place to place. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. Please, be more understanding with her.” I smiled and nodded, but inside, a single thought echoed: My brother has someone to keep him company now. I can finally die in peace. Later, my brother would weep until his voice was gone at my hospital bedside, begging me to just look at him. But by then, I could no longer open my eyes. 1 The year I turned eighteen, I finally received the news I had been waiting for: my brother was coming to take me home. I was so excited I couldn’t sleep a wink. The next morning, I stood in front of the mirror for what felt like hours, scrutinizing every detail of my appearance. The clothes I wore were new and beautiful, without a single hole or patch—a luxury I had never known. The director, a woman with a fleshy, cruel face, waddled over, her smile never reaching her eyes. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder. “Our little Aurora is so pretty.” My body began to tremble reflexively, my pupils constricting. I instinctively moved to curl into a ball and cover my head. Her grip tightened on my wrist, a drilling pain shooting up my arm, stopping my movement. “You know what to say and what not to say, don’t you, Aurora? You know the consequences…” I nodded, my heart pounding with terror. Only then did she release me, humming a cheerful tune as she turned and left. I bit my lip, the joy I’d felt in my new clothes completely gone. I was standing at the orphanage gates before seven in the morning, craning my neck in anticipation. My brother had said he would be there at eight. But the clock ticked past nine, and there was still no sign of him. A look of smug satisfaction spread across the director’s face. “Just as I expected. The brother you’ve been dreaming of all these years doesn’t seem to care about you that much, does he?” I was terrified of the director, but on this one subject, my stubbornness was absolute. “You’re wrong. My brother loves me more than anyone. He’ll come.” The sun grew hotter. Just as the clock was about to strike noon, a fleet of sleek, black cars pulled up to the orphanage. The door of the second car opened, and a man stepped out. He had sharp features, a cold expression, and a tiny, crimson mole just beside his lips. His face was both familiar and strange, but my gut told me this was him—my brother, Matt, whom I hadn’t seen in a decade. My only family in the entire world. My legs moved on their own, first in a brisk walk, then breaking into a run. “Matt…” The smile had barely bloomed on my face when I saw the man, who had looked so aloof a moment ago, bend down. His expression softened into one of doting affection as he reached into the back seat and helped a young woman out. She seemed to be pouting. He gently stroked her hair, a helpless, loving smile on his face. The scene was so warm, so perfect. “…Matt?” I stared, frozen, at the tender moment. The hopeful lilt in my voice fell flat. I was rooted to the spot, unsure whether to step forward or retreat. The girl who was now clinging to my brother’s arm was beautiful, dressed in clothes that looked like they were made of sunshine. A butterfly clip sparkled in her hair, and gold-leaf earrings danced in the breeze. She was a princess from one of the fairytales my brother used to tell me. I looked down at myself, a wave of shame washing over me. I felt like an ugly duckling who had stolen a princess’s dress. “Aurora?” A magnetic, beautiful voice called my name. I snapped my head up and saw my brother’s eyes, now red-rimmed, fixed on me. As if confirming it was really me, his voice trembled as he said my name again. “Aurora.” A lump formed in my throat, and my eyes began to sting. All my complicated thoughts vanished. “Matt,” I whispered. The next second, I was pulled into a powerful embrace. I heard my brother’s choked voice in my ear. “Aurora. My Aurora. I’ve finally found you.” I couldn’t hold back any longer. I clung to him and wept. “I… I missed you so, so much, Matt…” In that moment, my heart was overflowing with a bittersweet mix of joy and sorrow. I thought, Thank God for my brother. Thank God he remembers me. Thank God I didn’t give up all those times the abuse pushed me to the brink of death. A clear, feminine voice cut through our embrace. “Alright, alright! Let her go, Matt. You’re going to squeeze the life out of her. It’s embarrassing!” The girl pried at my brother’s arms, and I was released from his warm hug. Her gaze fell on me, her eyes filled with a practiced guilt. “I’m so sorry, Aurora. We were supposed to be here at eight, but my stomach started hurting on the way. Matt got so worried he insisted we go to the hospital. That’s why we’re so late.” A small smile played on her lips. “When I was little, I had a fever that almost killed me. Ever since then, he gets paranoid whenever I feel even a little sick. He acts like such a baby, it’s ridiculous.” My brother looked flustered at her teasing. He awkwardly ran a hand through his hair, then turned and gently flicked her forehead. “Hey, you’re not supposed to make fun of your big brother.” She giggled, covering her mouth like a cat who had just stolen a treat. My brother’s attention was completely captured by her. When he finally remembered me, he gave me an awkward glance. Then, he took the girl’s hand, his expression softening with affection. “Aurora, this is Cici. She’s our sister. Cici has been through so much hardship with me. She hasn’t had a stable, comfortable life like you have these past years. You need to be more understanding with her.” Sister? I stared blankly at Cici. Sensing my confusion, Matt explained gently, “Cici is my adopted sister. I met her about a month after you went to the orphanage. Her gambler father had beaten her half to death. When I saw her, I thought of you…” He didn’t finish the sentence, but I understood. A month after sending me away, he found Cici, and in her, he saw me. And so, he allowed another sister to stay by his side, to be his constant companion, to never be separated from him. If he could have a sister with him, why didn’t he come back for me? I wanted to scream, to demand an answer. But seeing the happy, doting look on his face, the words died in my throat. I forced my stiff lips into a smile. “That’s good. It’s good that you had someone with you, Matt.” When we got into the car, Cici pulled Matt into the back seat. I was about to follow, but the driver stepped in front of me, shutting the rear door. He looked at me with a hard expression, as if he were defending some sacred principle. “Miss, please take the front seat. Miss Cici isn’t comfortable with strangers in the back seat with her and Mr. Lee.” I froze, my eyes searching for my brother, but the heavily tinted windows were like a black mirror, reflecting nothing, sealing the inside world from the out. I lowered my gaze and turned towards the passenger door. “Thank you,” I said softly. The driver glanced at me. “We’ve watched Miss Cici grow up. She’s suffered a lot following the young master. We all feel for her. After all, those hardships… they were meant for someone else.” I understood his meaning perfectly. The suffering Cici endured was meant for me. I should be grateful. I shouldn’t dare to have a single negative thought. Matt wanted to throw a welcome party for me, but Cici’s mood had been sour for days. That afternoon, I followed an online tutorial and, after several failed attempts, managed to make a strawberry cream cake. It used to be my favorite. Matt had said Cici was a lot like me, so I thought she must love sweet cake too. Maybe it would cheer her up. I wanted to tell her that I wouldn’t be with Matt for much longer. I had only held on for so long because I was afraid he would be lonely without any family. Now that he had her, I could let go. I just… I just hadn’t seen my brother in so long. I wanted to look at him a little longer. I had no intention of taking her place. That evening, I carried the carefully prepared cake towards Cici’s room. The housekeeper had given me a room on the first floor. Matt and Cici both lived on the second. The housekeeper had explained that the second floor was their private space, off-limits to outsiders. So, she had naturally prepared a guest room for me on the ground floor. At the time, I told myself it was fine. We hadn’t seen each other in years. It was normal that he wouldn’t want me invading his territory. But now, in the dead of night, my thoughts drifted back to the brother I knew before I was nine. In the spring, he would share the wishing tree he had planted with me. In the summer, he would place a birthday crown on my head and tell me his only birthday wish was to make all of mine come true. He was the best brother in the world. He never set boundaries with me. The light from the study was warm and inviting. I heard familiar yet distant voices. I stopped, peering through the partially open door. I saw Matt and Cici. He was comforting her, his expression full of remorse. “I know throwing a welcome party for Aurora has upset you. But she is my sister, after all. And I promised her I would come back for her.” The person being comforted had the courage to be petulant. “I know I have no right to be jealous, but you’ve been so busy with her lately, you’ve barely paid any attention to me… Before she came back, you only had eyes for me.” Cici looked so pitiful, her voice so wounded, that Matt relented. I knew how he was. He could never resist anyone he had taken under his protection. It used to be me. Now, it was Cici. “Alright, alright. I’ll take you out tomorrow, just the two of us. How’s that?” “Just you and me. No one else.” Matt couldn’t help but laugh. He reached out and stroked her hair. “Okay, I get it, you little jealous thing.” A drop of cream slid from the top of the cake in my hands, like a teardrop. I looked down, confused. Does cake cry, too? There was a sound from the study. Like a startled rat in a sewer, I spun around, desperate to hide. But before I could escape, my brother’s voice called out behind me. “Aurora?” I froze, my feet glued to the floor. I turned back, forcing a practiced smile. “Matt. I made a cake for Cici.” His gaze shifted from my face to the cake in my hands. His brow furrowed, and his tone became sharp. “Cici is allergic to strawberries. How many times have I said it? No strawberries are allowed in this house.” I swayed, the world blurring around me. Matt’s tall figure became a hazy outline. “If Aurora likes them, then when I grow up, I’ll build a whole house made of strawberries just for her.” A nine-year-old boy, full of grand promises for his beloved little sister. Ten years later, the same person said, “Cici is allergic. No strawberries in this house.” I hung my head, ashamed, not wanting him to see the tears welling in my eyes. “I-I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Matt. I’ll… I’ll eat it. I won’t let it go to waste…” I reached out, grabbed a handful of cake, and shoved it into my mouth. The cloying sweetness of the cream mixed with the tartness of the strawberries, creating the most bitter taste in the world. I stuffed another piece into my mouth, and another, the bile rising in my throat. But just as I had learned to do at the orphanage, I looked up at him with a bright, placating smile. “See, Matt? I’m eating it all. Please don’t be angry…” As I reached for another piece, my hand was slapped away, hard. The back of my hand, where it was struck, immediately turned red. The familiar scene, the pain that was etched into my bones, triggered my defense mechanism. I instinctively covered my head and dropped to my knees, begging for forgiveness. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. Please don’t hit me… Please, have mercy… don’t hit me…” “Aurora… Aurora… calm down. What’s wrong?” A voice pulled me back from the hazy fog of terror. The expected blows never came. The overwhelming fear began to recede. My face was a mess of tears and snot. My clothes were sticky with white cream and red strawberry juice. I was still on my knees, a pathetic, broken figure. In the doorway of the study stood Cici, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and horror. The warm light bathed her in a golden glow, making her look like a pristine princess in a castle. A wave of shame and self-loathing, more intense than anything I had ever felt, washed over me. I shoved the person holding me away and scrambled to my feet, running blindly down the hall. I heard my brother calling my name, but I couldn’t bear to look back. His childish voice seemed to echo in my ears. “My sister… I’m going to raise her to be the most beautiful and happiest princess in the world.” He had kept his promise, after all. In the past ten years, he had raised Cici very, very well. I hid in my room, in the pitch-black darkness that reminded me of the basement where I was often locked away. My wrist was raw and bloody from where I had been gnawing on it, but I felt no pain. All I could see was the scene from moments ago. Matt knew now. He had seen me break. Would he be disappointed? Disgusted? Would he abandon me again, just like he did ten years ago? The more I thought, the harder I bit down. My eyes scanned the room, and in the faint moonlight, I saw the fruit knife on the nightstand. I had always been afraid that if I died, my brother would be sad. But now… a version of me that caused him so much trouble would be better off dead. If I died, Cici wouldn’t be upset anymore. The people around him wouldn’t have to keep warning me away from her. And Matt wouldn’t have to be bothered with any of it. I pressed the sharp blade against my wrist. Blood began to seep out. Suddenly, the door was kicked open. The knife was snatched from my hand. Blood dripped onto the floor. Not just mine, but my brother’s too. My heart stopped. A suffocating feeling gripped my chest. I scrambled to grab the knife from his hand, my voice frantic with disbelief. “Matt, you’re hurt! Let me see, please…” But he held the knife in a death grip. No matter how hard I pulled, he wouldn’t let go. Tears streamed down my face. I looked up and met his gaze. It was so cold it froze me to the spot. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to hurt yourself?” The familiar words sent a jolt of déjà vu through me. When I was six, I was being mischievous and fell, chipping my front tooth. The dentist said no candy while it healed. But I couldn’t resist. I snuck two caramels during the day. That night, the toothache was so bad I cried my eyes out. Matt held me, his heart aching for me, but he was so angry. He had used the exact same words then, his face set in a stern expression. “Aurora Lee, you’ve got some nerve now, haven’t you? Daring to sneak candy behind my back!” My wrist was gently lifted, pulling me back to the present. The knife was thrown to the floor with a clatter. Matt brought in the first-aid kit and began to bandage my wound in silence. I tried to smile, to tell him that this kind of pain was nothing to me now. But my mouth felt like it was glued shut. I couldn’t smile. I couldn’t speak. A single, crystalline tear fell from my eye, landing on the gauze and spreading into a dark, wet patch. I panicked, trying to comfort him through my own confusion. “Matt, don’t cry. I’m… I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt. It really doesn’t…” The next moment, I was pulled into a warm embrace. “How could it not hurt?” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You used to be so afraid of pain…” I looked at my grieving brother and blinked. But Matt, I thought, I’m used to it now. The person who needed your comfort was the seven-year-old girl who was beaten for the first time. The eighteen-year-old version is already so broken, comfort can’t fix her. Matt didn’t say anything else, just held me silently. My rigid body slowly began to relax in his arms. I closed my eyes, savoring this fleeting moment of warmth. I’ll live a little longer, I thought greedily. Just this once. I knew I had to say a proper goodbye before I left. And there was the orphanage. I was gone, but there were other children still suffering there. I wanted them to have a chance at happiness, a life that wasn’t like mine. I took a breath, full of a fragile hope. “Matt, I…” Before I could finish, the frantic voice of the housekeeper came from the doorway. “Young Master, Miss Cici was frightened. She has a slight fever and is having nightmares. You…” Matt shot to his feet, knocking the first-aid kit to the floor. Its contents scattered everywhere. My unfinished sentence lay shattered among them. He paused at the door for a second but didn’t look back. “You get some rest,” he said quickly. “I’ll spend time with you later. I need to check on Cici. Her situation is more urgent.” I watched his back as he left, and in a daze, I was transported back to that rainy night ten years ago, when he had walked away and left me behind. Someone once said that once a crack forms, it can never be truly repaired. Once a lie begins, it never ends. In that moment, ten years ago, my brother had shown me his back for the first time. And it seemed that ever since, all he had ever shown me was his back. Cici’s illness lingered, and the welcome party was postponed again and again. Matt looked at me with guilt in his eyes. “Aurora, just a little longer. Cici can’t handle any stress right now.” I nodded obediently. “It’s okay, Matt. Cici’s health is more important.” Cici was sick for over a month. She only started to feel better a few days before her birthday. And so, my welcome party was transformed into her birthday party. “Aurora,” Matt said, “this is Cici’s birthday. It wouldn’t be right to introduce you then. Just wait a little longer. I’ll introduce you to everyone soon.” I didn’t want to make things difficult for him. I smiled, pretending not to care. “It’s fine, Matt. Just having you bring me home is enough to make me happy. As for the party, let’s just cancel it. It’s not fair to Cici. She suffered so much with you all these years.” I could see the relief wash over his face. He reached out and patted my head, his eyes full of pity. “You’re right. Cici is different from you. I couldn’t give her a stable, happy environment. I dragged her into my troubles.” I lowered my head, the bitter sting of tears rushing to my eyes. I still didn’t understand. Why could he take Cici with him, but not me? At least with him, I wouldn’t have been beaten every day. I wouldn’t have had to wash clothes in freezing water in the dead of winter until my hands were covered in sores. I wouldn’t have had to wear thick winter clothes in the sweltering heat and be sent out onto the streets to beg like a fool, stripped of all my dignity. Everyone said I had lived a comfortable life for ten years. Everyone pitied the wealthy Cici for being kidnapped once. Maybe the director was right. Maybe my life was worthless, so my suffering didn’t count as suffering. I remembered what the director had said to me on my sixteenth birthday. “It’s amazing how different two lives can be. Both are sisters. One is a pampered princess, showered with riches. The other is a timid, worthless creature that anyone can step on.” At the time, I was trembling too much to think about her words, terrified of the beating that was sure to follow. But she had been in a talkative mood. She showed me a photo from a birthday party. In it, a man whose face was hidden was placing a crown on a little princess’s head. The scene was lavish, opulent, filled with the kind of doting love I didn’t dare to even dream of. Just looking at it felt like being burned. I thought, That girl is so lucky. But it’s okay. I have my brother. If he were here, he would do even more for me. The thought of him made me smile. The director’s eyes were full of scorn. “Different. So very different… hahaha…” I didn’t understand her words then. But now, I understood everything. I looked up at my brother, who was rushing off to share the good news with Cici, and my vision blurred with tears again. It really was different. Her sixteenth birthday party, and my eighteenth homecoming party. Matt, are you still my Matt? But then I thought, maybe this is for the best. If he doesn’t care, then when I die, he won’t be sad. When I cut my wrist again, my brother slapped me across the face. “Aurora Lee, what in the world do you want?”

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At ten, I begged my brother to come home for my birthday. He died in a plane crash on the way back. His body was never found. From then on, I became a painful reminder to my parents of their loss. They blamed me. Every year on the crash anniversary, they forced me to kneel at his empty grave in repentance. I knelt for eight years. Just when I thought I’d spend my life atoning, I was stalked and murdered on my eighteenth birthday. Dying, I texted my mother for help. Her reply pierced my heart: “More lies to avoid atoning for what you did to your brother. If you hadn’t forced him to come, he’d still be alive! This is the price you deserve.” The call ended without mercy. I stared at the dark screen, and my will to live vanished. She was right. What right did a monster like me have to live? But then, eight years after he was supposed dead, my brother returned—with his pregnant wife. When they learned what happened to me, their world collapsed. 1 On my tenth birthday, I made a fatal mistake. I killed my own brother. I grew up in a happy home. I had loving parents and a brilliant older brother, Benjamin. I was the center of their universe. But all of it shattered with a single phone call. It was my birthday, and I called Benjamin, pleading with him to come home to celebrate with me. He never made it. The plane went down. There were no survivors, no bodies to bury. From that moment on, my parents hated me. They said it to my face, more times than I can count. “Why did you have to make him come back? Why wasn’t it you who died?” In a way, I did die in that crash. The guilt, the regret, the constant accusations from my own parents—it all dragged me down into an abyss. I spent years asking myself the same questions over and over. Why did I make that call? Why did I kill him? Why did God take him away? If only I hadn’t called him. Maybe he would still be alive. But there are no “if onlys” in this world. And no one was there to give me an answer. From the age of ten, my life had only one purpose: atonement. Every year, on the anniversary of Benjamin’s death—which was also my birthday—my parents would drive me to the cemetery. They’d make me kneel before his empty grave and repent. I did this for eight years. Just when I thought my life couldn’t get any bleaker, I was found by the Rain Killer. And I was murdered. In those last moments, I fought desperately to live. I reached for the taser my father had given me. It was disguised as a cute, white lamb keychain. Years ago, my father’s work had made him some dangerous enemies. My mother and I were kidnapped. To save me, my mother was dragged by the kidnappers’ car for what felt like miles. My father was stabbed in the chest protecting us. The police saved us in the end, but the fear never left him. After that, he gave me the keychain. Inside the little lamb was a high-voltage taser. He taught me how to use it. “I can’t always be there to protect you, Ava,” he’d said. “You have to be able to protect yourself.” But when the killer grabbed me, when I finally managed to flick open the pendant and jam it into his side, nothing happened. It was broken. That was my last chance. Even now, as a spirit, I remember every detail with horrifying clarity. The wrench, the pliers, the axe… one by one, he used them on me. The terror on my face was like a drug to him. The pain was unimaginable. It was so intense I lost control of my body. I never thought the sound of my own bones snapping would be so loud, echoing in my ears. Skin tearing from flesh, my vision turning red. Then, darkness. When I opened my eyes again, I was a ghost. And I was in a police station. Lightning flashed outside the window. My father, in his work scrubs, stood with a look of profound sorrow in his eyes. He was surrounded by a few young forensic techs. On the stainless-steel table in front of them was a bag filled with neatly cut pieces of flesh. It was what Detective Evans and his team had managed to recover from the rain-soaked crime scene. I never imagined they would find me so quickly. Maybe it was the universe’s last act of pity for my miserable life. A homeless man, digging through a dumpster, had found the bag. He thought he’d scored some free meat until he saw a human finger. A torrential downpour had set the stage for a brutal dismemberment case. Outside, the storm raged. Police officers and K-9 units were scouring the city. Detective Evans was furious, his face a mask of rage. The killer’s methods were identical to the Rain Killer’s from eight years ago. “Rob,” he said, his voice tight, “doesn’t this feel familiar? Like the Rain Killer’s work?” My father’s expression hardened. The Rain Killer. A monster who only hunted on stormy nights, who took a sick pleasure in torturing and murdering young women. He had shattered countless families. Years ago, my father had been closing in on him. He’d found the evidence needed for an arrest. But the killer got wind of it and fled. As an act of revenge, he sabotaged the plane my brother was supposed to be on, intending for them both to die in the crash. Neither of their bodies had ever been recovered. So, of course, Evans immediately made the connection. If the killer had survived, he would be back for revenge. He felt a sudden urgency. “Rob, if it’s really him, you need to make sure Maria and Ava don’t leave the house. You have to protect Ava. She’s exactly his type!” But at the mention of my name, the anxiety on my father’s face vanished, replaced by an icy calm. “She should have died a long time ago.” A sharp pain, even in my ghostly form, pierced through me. He was right. I should have. These past eight years were just stolen time. Evans knew the whole story. He wanted to offer some comfort but could only manage a grimace. After Benjamin’s death, my parents had spent three days and three nights searching the mountains where the plane had gone down. In the end, they were found kneeling by the side of the road, their eyes bloodshot, begging the heavens to give them back their son. The pain of losing a child was a wound that would never heal for them. Evans sighed. “Alright, Rob. Let’s not dwell on it. The department is breathing down our necks about this case. It’s high priority.” My father knew his duty. He turned back to his work, carefully removing the pieces of flesh from the bag. Suddenly, he swore under his breath. “Son of a bitch.” He gritted his teeth. “What kind of animal does this?” A younger tech, seeing such a gruesome scene for the first time, had to turn away, his eyes red. But right now, the priority was identifying the victim. After the officers brought back every fragment they could find, my father began the grim task of reassembling the body. I floated beside him, watching for a full day as he pieced together a skinless human form. In a twisted way, I was relieved. I knew how horrific I must look, and I was afraid the shock of recognizing me would be too much for him. And I was relieved that this life, so full of guilt, was finally over. Detective Evans stared at the raw, red corpse on the table. Even after years on the force, his face was pale with disgust. He asked my father if the killer did this to hide evidence or if it was the work of a psychopath. My father’s face was grim. After a long moment, he spoke, his voice hoarse. “He wasn’t trying to hide evidence. Our analysis shows… the victim was flayed alive.” He clenched his fists, trying to maintain his composure. “This was purely for his own sick pleasure. For revenge.” He pointed to my body. “Look here. There are even traces of salt corrosion on the flesh. He tortured her, slicing off her flesh piece by piece while she was still conscious.” My father’s voice broke with a grief he couldn’t contain. “And she was just a kid. Sixteen to twenty years old. What kind of monster would do this?” I floated beside him, almost wanting to applaud. He truly was the best forensic pathologist in the city, able to pinpoint my cause of death with such precision. Evans’s eyes grew colder. “That bastard. That soulless piece of filth.” He was so angry his chest was heaving. “We’re running a search for all missing females between sixteen and twenty in the last few days. Hopefully, we can get an ID soon.” My father, as if remembering something, spoke again. “The bag was missing the right femur. It’s possible the victim had some kind of identifying mark on that bone—a birth defect, an old injury, surgical pins.” He added, “And since the killer used acid on her face, reconstruction will take time.” He sighed and pulled off his gloves. Lying on the table next to his instruments was the little lamb keychain, caked in my blood. He didn’t even recognize the gift he had given me to keep me safe. After finishing his work for the day, my father checked his phone. His face contorted with rage, and he immediately called my mother. “Did you see the text from Ava? That little liar. The nerve of her to say something like that. I swear she does it on purpose, just to provoke us!” He was seething. “Doesn’t she know? If she hadn’t insisted her brother come back, Benjamin wouldn’t have been killed by the Rain Killer! And now she has the gall to claim she’s being followed!” I watched his face, red with fury, and felt a deep sadness. Dad, I wasn’t lying. I really am dead. Why would I use the man who killed my brother to hurt you? I would never do something like that. I was so scared, so helpless. That’s why I reached out to you. But my father couldn’t see me. Neither could my mother. I could hear her on the other end of the line, just as angry. “I saw her text. I ignored it. She’s just trying to get out of her duties, that’s all. That damn girl has no sense of remorse!” I listened to them condemn me, and I covered my ears, a ghost overwhelmed with a grief that had no voice. Just when I thought my death would remain a secret to them, my best friend, Chloe, burst into the station. She told the officer at the desk that I had been missing for two days. But as the officer was about to take down my name, my father stopped him. “Don’t bother. I’m Ava’s father. She’s not missing. She’s just trying to manipulate her mother and me.” The officer looked uncomfortably at Chloe. He knew who my father was. He had no choice but to back down. I watched Chloe leave the station, her shoulders slumped in defeat, tears streaming down her face. I wanted to follow her, to comfort her, but I was bound to my father’s side. I watched him work on my skull. I followed him home. On the dinner table, as always, were all of Benjamin’s favorite dishes: braised fish, spicy crab, fried prawns. My mother remembered every one of his preferences, but she could never be bothered to remember that I was deathly allergic to seafood. Once, my father had asked me why I wasn’t eating. For a fleeting moment, I thought he was finally going to show me some love. I clutched my chopsticks and summoned my courage. “Dad, I’m… I’m allergic to seafood.” My mother slammed her chopsticks down and pointed at me. “What did I do to deserve such an ungrateful child? I slave away in the kitchen to make this beautiful meal, and this is the thanks I get?” I looked to my father for help, to the hero who used to protect me whenever I made Mom angry. But this time, my hero simply placed a large piece of crab in my bowl. “Just eat, Ava. Don’t make your mother angry.” Their eyes were on me, judging me. If I didn’t eat, I would be the villain. So, I ate the entire plate of crab. That night, my throat swelled shut until I could barely breathe. My eyes bulged, blurring my vision. My entire body ached and itched. “Help… me…” My voice was a choked whisper. I stumbled to my bedroom door, trying to open it, but the handle wouldn’t turn. It was locked. Panic seized me. I started banging on the door, trying to make a sound. “Help… please… Dad, Mom… save me… I don’t want to die…” Through the haze of pain, I heard my mother’s voice from the living room. “It’s just an allergic reaction, she’s not going to die. Good thing I locked the door. She’s always playing the victim. It’s disgusting. Benjamin came to me in a dream last night, he said he wants the newest video game console. Let’s go, the mall will close soon.” No! Mom, Dad, don’t leave me! I don’t want to die, please, save me… The front door slammed shut. I was abandoned. Maybe this is it, I thought. Maybe when I’m dead, it won’t hurt anymore. I curled up in a corner, waiting to die. From the street below, I heard the laughter of a father and his daughter. “You silly girl, you know you’re allergic to peanuts, and you still ate them! You almost gave me a heart attack!” “I’m sorry, Daddy! It was an accident! Please don’t tell Mom.” “Your mom already knows. She was so worried she pulled a muscle in her back, but she still made a huge dinner with all your favorite foods. As long as you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Parents can’t stay mad at their kids.” I felt like a sewer rat, hiding in the darkness, greedily listening in on a happiness that wasn’t mine. In that moment, I was filled with a self-loathing so profound I wanted to disappear. I wanted my parents to love me like that, to worry about my allergies, to cook my favorite meals, to fuss over me. But I was the bad child who had killed her brother. I didn’t deserve to be loved. But Mom, Dad… I don’t want to die. I really don’t want to die… I didn’t die that day. In a last-ditch effort, I jumped from my second-story window. Someone found me and took me to the hospital. The doctor said I was lucky; any later and it would have been fatal. The mother of the girl in the next bed peeled an orange for her daughter and said to me, “Thank goodness you’re okay. Your parents must have been so worried!” I watched with envy as she fed her daughter orange slices, one by one. The reflection in the window showed me, alone. I tried to comfort myself, to convince the world. I forced a laugh and said loudly, “Yes, my parents love me very, very much.” Suddenly, the door to my room was thrown open. My parents rushed in, their faces etched with urgency. A wave of raw emotion washed over me. I struggled to sit up, wincing in pain as tears streamed down my face. “Dad… Mom…” I was so scared. I was so scared I was going to die. Can you just hug me? Please? Just once… My mother grabbed the collar of my hospital gown and yanked me out of bed, throwing me to the floor. The IV needle was ripped from my arm, and blood spurted out. “You little bitch!” she screamed. “Playing the victim again! You ate that on purpose and then jumped out the window just to make a scene, didn’t you? You wanted everyone to think your father and I abuse you, to ruin our reputation! Why didn’t you just jump from a higher floor and die?” I curled into a ball, covering my head as she kicked me, again and again. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I just didn’t want to die… I had survived the fall, but I couldn’t survive their hatred. In the reflection, I saw my father leaning against the wall, watching coldly as my mother clawed at me with her nails. I saw the mother in the next bed holding her frightened daughter, cooing softly to her. The people gathered at the door stared at me with contempt, with disgust, as if I were some kind of evil child. The fragile illusion I had just built—that my parents loved me—was shattered in front of everyone. I was lying. My parents don’t love me. They… they hate me most of all… After that, they cut off my allowance. I applied to live at the school dorm. I ate cheap buns and free soup from the cafeteria. I slept on a thin mattress over a straw mat in a room with fifteen other girls. My scholarships barely covered the boarding fees. As I moved from middle school to high school, the fees increased. I studied day and night, desperate to get a few extra points on every exam to win enough scholarship money to survive. I always believed that if I could just be more exceptional, they would love me again. But when I brought home a report card with near-perfect scores, and a visiting relative praised me, my mother scoffed. “She’s as dumb as a rock. Not half as smart as Benjamin was. How could she possibly get scores like that?” Then, she slapped me across the face. “Tell me,” she hissed. “Who did you cheat off of?” My face burned, and my heart ached with it. I just wanted to disappear. Later, my teacher called to confirm my grades. My mother just glanced at the shredded report card in the trash can and sneered. “What’s so great about these scores? Your brother got perfect scores in every subject. You’re such a disappointment. Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?” My heart was shredded along with that report card. My parents love smart children, like Benjamin. So, I will erase myself and become him. I threw myself into my studies with even more ferocity. Summer, winter, spring, fall—my body was a constant cycle of heat rash, frostbite, and mosquito bites. When I walked out of my final college entrance exam, I felt a flicker of hope. I had finally proven that I was as brilliant as Benjamin. Maybe now… maybe now they’ll start to love me… But I was murdered before the results were even released. I died without ever becoming the brilliant child my parents could love. I watch now as my parents fill Benjamin’s empty bowl at the dinner table, silently placing his favorite foods in it. A ritual they have repeated every day for eight years. But wasn’t I the one who turned them into this? Wasn’t I the one who killed their son? Maybe I really did deserve to die. A knock on the door shattered the silence. A voice from my memories called out. “Mom, Dad, open up! I’m home, and I brought your daughter-in-law with me!”

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