The girl at the front desk had a thing for my boyfriend. So she decided to ruin my reputation in front of him. “You know,” she said, her voice dripping with fake concern, “this young lady was here with a different man last night.” “She made a real mess of the sheets when she checked out, too. Refused to pay the cleaning fee.” She put a hand to her mouth, feigning shock. “Oh, my goodness. Did I say something I shouldn’t have?” Her eyes, wide and innocent, darted to my boyfriend, Neo. “I’m so sorry. I just couldn’t stand to see a good man like you being deceived.” I told her to pull the security footage. She claimed the cameras were broken. What she didn’t know was that this five-star hotel… belongs to my family. 1 “Ma’am, how can I help you?” The receptionist was speaking to me, but her eyes were glued to Neo. I glanced at her name tag. Jenna. I actually remembered her, this delicate-looking girl from the front desk. She was the one who checked us in last night when Neo brought me to the hotel. She’d been so flustered by him that she’d knocked over her glass of water. After a clumsy cleanup, she’d dragged out the check-in process for another fifteen minutes, finding any excuse to keep him there. I knew Neo was a head-turner. He was tall and lean, with fair skin and handsome, chiseled features. His eyes were his best feature—warm and expressive, the kind of eyes that could make a lamppost feel cherished. It wasn’t unusual for girls to stare; I’d gotten used to it. A handsome man is a handsome man, after all. But this receptionist? Wasn’t she taking it a little too far? “Hi, I checked out this morning, but I think I left a necklace on the bathroom sink,” I said. Silence. She was still staring at Neo. “Hello? Did you hear me?” 2 Neo and I met in our senior year of college. We were the classic campus couple. Everyone says graduation is breakup season, but not for us. We ended up in different cities for work, joining the ranks of the long-distance crowd, but our bond felt as strong as ever. I was in his city for a business trip, and he’d suggested I stay at his place. But with his parents and grandparents living there, I wasn’t comfortable with it. I didn’t want to face the scrutiny of his entire family before we were even engaged. So, Neo had booked me a room at the only five-star hotel in town, The Celestial. I’d checked out early that morning. It was only after lunch with Neo, as I was getting ready to head home, that I realized my necklace was gone. I waved a hand in front of the receptionist’s face, finally snapping her out of her daze. She blushed and looked away. After a cursory glance at her computer screen, she answered without a hint of hesitation. “Ma’am, housekeeping cleaned your room this morning and reported no forgotten items. Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?” I was taken aback. I remembered it clearly. While I was brushing my hair in front of the mirror this morning, it had gotten tangled. I’d unclasped the necklace and set it on the counter. Just as I was about to put it back on, my phone rang. My client had arrived early for our meeting. I’d grabbed my bag in a rush and hurried out, completely forgetting about the necklace until after the contract was signed. “I’m positive it was on the sink,” I insisted. “Could you please double-check with the cleaning staff?” She didn’t pick up the phone. Instead, her tone became firm, almost accusatory. “We have no record of any lost items. You must be mistaken.” Neo noticed my frown and stepped forward, taking my hand. “Don’t worry, babe. Think carefully. Maybe you dropped it somewhere on the way here?” 3 A prickle of annoyance went through me. What was that supposed to mean? Did he think I was making it up? I was absolutely certain my necklace was on that bathroom sink. It was a diamond necklace my mother had given me for my birthday last month. It was incredibly valuable. “Your hotel lobby and elevators must have security cameras, right?” I said, my voice hardening. “Pull the footage. We can see if I was wearing it when I left this morning.” Neo let out a breath of relief. “Yeah, that’s a great idea,” he said, turning back to Jenna. “Could you please pull up the security footage for us?” The receptionist froze. Her eyes darted around for a second before she bit her lip, her expression turning strangely complicated as she looked at me. “Ma’am,” she began, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “is it possible… your companion took it?” Neo and I both stared at her, confused. His face immediately darkened. “Companion? What companion?” he demanded. Jenna blurted it out. “The man who stayed with this lady last night.” She didn’t stop there. “The lady left first this morning. The gentleman didn’t check out until an hour later. When our housekeeper went to inspect the room, she found… well, stains… all over the bedsheets. It’s against policy, so we had to charge a cleaning fee. The gentleman refused to pay and made quite a scene about it.” Neo looked like he was about to explode. His face flushed a deep crimson, and his voice shot up an octave. “What man? What the hell are you talking about?” 4 I was even angrier than he was. What was wrong with this woman? I’d been up until three in the morning finalizing a contract. What man? What was this crazy story she was spinning? And dirty sheets? Stains? The insinuation was disgusting. My face went cold, and I fixed her with an icy stare. “You realize slander is a crime, right? Now, I want you to repeat that. What man was in my room yesterday?” She recoiled as if I’d struck her, taking two steps back. “Maybe… maybe I remembered wrong,” she stammered. Neo shoved me aside, his teeth clenched as he glared at me. “Sandy, don’t you dare threaten her.” He then turned back to the receptionist, forcing a strained smile. “It’s okay. Take your time. Don’t be afraid.” Jenna lowered her head, deliberately dropping her voice to a near whisper. “I… we’re not allowed to disclose guest privacy. I’m sorry, just… please forget I said anything.” My head was spinning. A hot rush of blood pounded in my temples. Neo was no better. His eyes were bloodshot, his chest heaving with rage. “Sandy, is this why you wouldn’t stay at my place? No wonder you didn’t answer my video call last night. It was because… because…” His voice cracked. “Who was he, Sandy? Who was the man?” He didn’t believe me. Some complete stranger appears out of nowhere, spews a few nonsensical sentences, and just like that, he’s questioning our entire relationship. He’s questioning me. I stared at him, feeling as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over my head. My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vise, a dull, aching pain mixed with a bitter sting. In his eyes, was I really that kind of person? The kind who would come to her boyfriend’s city on a business trip only to secretly hook up with another man? And then, the next day, act as if nothing happened, sharing a meal with him without a hint of guilt? 5 My silence seemed to confirm his suspicions. Jenna, seeing her chance, put on a show of consoling Neo. “Sir, please don’t get too upset. Maybe that man was a relative? I did notice he was much older, maybe in his fifties? He was losing a lot of his hair… Perhaps it was her father?” If she kept talking, my blood vessels were going to burst. “Shut your mouth!” I roared, unable to take it anymore. “Spreading rumors is illegal! I’m calling the police right now. Get your manager over here. I want to see that security footage!” The color drained from Neo’s face, shifting from red to a sickly white. He gave me a long, hard look, a bitter, mocking smile twisting his lips. “Sandy, you’re really something else.” He paused. “You know I won’t let you call the cops.” “What? What do you mean, you won’t let me?” His eyes were filled with disappointment, completely devoid of warmth. “My uncle is a cop. He’s in charge of this district. If you call them, there’s a good chance he’ll be the one to show up. Is that what you want? You want everyone to know about this? You might not have any shame, but I do.” I almost laughed out loud from sheer rage. “Neo, you’ve already found me guilty based on a few words from a stranger? You think you can stop me from calling the police? This receptionist slandered me, and I’m missing a valuable necklace. Of course I’m calling them.” 6 Jenna looked deeply wounded, her eyes welling up with tears. “Ma’am, how can you say that? I… I really didn’t slander you. You’re a guest at our hotel, why would I do that? You weren’t even wearing a necklace when you checked in yesterday.” She gasped, covering her mouth as if a shocking thought had just occurred to her. “Oh! That necklace… don’t tell me it was a gift from the gentleman last night?” Neo’s face grew darker and darker. Finally snapping, he grabbed my wrist. “Sandy, stop making a scene! The necklace, the necklace, that’s all you care about! What about me? What am I to you? You’re coming with me, right now!” His grip was like iron, crushing my wrist, and I was sure he was going to break the bone. I cried out in pain as a tidal wave of fury washed over me, threatening to swallow me whole. We’d been together for two years. I thought I knew Neo. He was cheerful, kind, and hardworking. His family background was modest, but he carried himself with a quiet dignity. “Sandy, I’ll work my tail off for you,” he’d promised. “We might not be able to afford a mansion and a sports car right now, but I’ll do everything I can to give you a good life.” “I got my bonus today! Let’s go out for a fancy dinner!” He was a dedicated worker, already a department manager just two years out of college. My plan had been to take him to meet my parents by the end of the year, to finally tell him the truth about my family. 7 Because of a kidnapping incident in my childhood, I’ve always been extremely private about my family’s wealth. Throughout college, I lived modestly—my clothes, my habits, everything was designed to make me seem like an ordinary person. In the two years Neo and I had been dating, I deliberately avoided talking about my family. I’d just vaguely said my parents were small business owners and our situation was average. Seeing my reluctance, Neo, ever the considerate boyfriend, never pushed the topic. The truth is, my father owns a chain of luxury hotels. The very hotel we were standing in was just one of hundreds my family owned. My mother is in real estate. Theirs was an arranged marriage, a union of two powerful families. When they found out about Neo, they hadn’t objected. My father only had one condition: the boy couldn’t know about our wealth. Not until they had a chance to meet him and thoroughly vet his character. I’d beaten my chest and promised them. “Mom, Dad, don’t you worry! Your daughter has impeccable taste. Neo is the best person I’ve ever met. You’re going to love him.” But now? My cheeks burned as if I’d been slapped. “Let go of me!” I wrenched my arm free, meeting his murderous gaze with my own furious glare. “Neo, you believe a complete stranger over me? Is that it? Then we’re done. We’re breaking up.” My voice was cold and steady. “From this moment on, we have nothing to do with each other. If you touch me again, I’ll press charges for assault. Now get out of my way. I’m calling the police.”

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During my most financially desperate year, I overheard a classmate mention an ill heiress nearby. I secretly got tested. As soon as the results arrived, her older brother found me. He made me sign a contract and rushed me into hospitalization. Then live comments flashed before my eyes: 【Don’t sign! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you’ll regret this. You’re sending the sister you searched for to surgery.】 I ignored them. I knew the man before me had already learned the truth. He had simply chosen to abandon me. Six days post-surgery, as comments buzzed with excitement, I quietly left the hospital. Everyone anticipated my return—eager to see the lost daughter make the Sterlings pay. 【The big moment is here! Zoe’s happy ending!】 【The brother knows! YES!】 【The groveling arc begins!】 【Time to be the pampered princess and make them suffer!】 【Don’t forgive easily, Zoe!】 I shook my head. They’d be disappointed. I was exiting at the climax. That pampered life everyone expected? I didn’t want it. 1 The first time I met Miles Sterling was at a café near the hospital. The second he learned I was a kidney match for his sister, he contacted me. After confirming the details, he handed me the contract along with a disposable mask. “It’s probably best if you wear a mask outside.” I took it without a word, my eyes scanning the exorbitant penalty fee listed in the contract. After I put the mask on, his gaze lingered on my eyes for a moment. The hand holding the pen paused, then decisively signed his name. Suddenly, the live comments flickered to life. 【Baby, don’t sign it! He’s your brother.】 【Your real brother.】 【Miles Sterling, you are going to regret this. The sister you’ve been searching for is about to be sent to the operating table by your own hand.】 【Wait, I just re-read this part… isn’t this the point where Miles already suspects Zoe’s identity?】 【Definitely. With the mask on, her eyes are a dead ringer for their mom’s. No way he didn’t notice.】 【I bet he made her wear the mask specifically so he could get a better look without being obvious.】 【He’s a total snake. Right now he’s doing whatever it takes for Stella, but once Zoe’s identity is confirmed, he’ll flip and try to be the perfect doting brother.】 My expression didn’t change. I signed the contract and handed it to him. I had to admit, Miles was efficient. He had me admitted to a private room in the hospital almost immediately. I didn’t have to worry about a thing; my only job was to sign the surgical consent form when the time came. During my stay, besides the doctors and nurses, the person I saw most was Miles. Not that we had anything to say to each other. We were strangers, after all. But he didn’t seem to see it that way. He was always finding excuses to wander into my room. “Are you really this free?” I asked, my voice flat as I stared at him on his fifth visit in two days. He had brought lunch. Miles just smiled. “Give it a try. Our cook made it. Hope it’s to your taste.” He added, “You need to rest up and build your strength.” I forced a tight smile. “Thanks, but you don’t have to. I just ordered takeout.” His cheerful expression froze for a split second. He recovered quickly, his voice dropping into a low, persuasive tone. “Takeout is so unhealthy. Nothing beats a soup that’s been simmering for hours, don’t you think, Zoe?” The casual way he used my name reminded me of my sister. She was the only one who called me that. “You can try both when it arrives, if you want. A little taste test. I have complete faith in our cook’s skills.” Just as Miles was about to say more, a soft knock came from the door. A young woman in a patient’s gown peeked her head in. “Miles, I knew I’d find you here.” It was Stella. She entered with a bright smile directed at me. “Hi, you must be the one donating your kidney to me. Thank you so much, Miss Zuo. Is it okay if I call you that?” My gaze fell on her. She was clearly well cared for. “Whatever.” Miles was instantly at her side. “What are you doing down here? Are you feeling alright?” Stella stuck out her tongue playfully. “I’m fine! I just wanted to meet my savior.” She leaned into him slightly. “And the surgery is coming up so fast, Miles. I’m a little scared.” He gently stroked her hair. “I promise you, there’s nothing to worry about. You’ll fall asleep, and when you wake up, it’ll all be over.” “I trust you.” Her eyes swept across my room before she spoke again, her tone hesitant. “Miles, why didn’t you get Miss Zuo a room on our floor? This one isn’t very big. Is she comfortable here?” Before Miles could answer, the comments erupted. 【Kinda weird to tell the person giving you a kidney that you’re scared.】 【Wow, the passive aggression is strong with this one. ‘My floor is so much better than yours.’】 【Stop being so negative. She was just making a suggestion, trying to be nice to the main character.】 【Nice? Can you not read the room? She’s blatantly showing off that her room is better than Zoe’s.】 【Why isn’t Miles answering?】 【He can’t. If they were on the same floor, the rest of the family might run into Zoe. This room was a deliberate choice.】 【Can’t wait for his groveling arc to start.】 Just then, Stella’s phone rang. “Mom? I just came to find Miles… Okay, we’re heading back now.” She turned and gave me a polite smile. “Miss Zuo, my mom’s calling. We’re going to head back. I’ll come visit again when I can.” A gust of wind from the hallway seemed to usher them out. 2 The lunch Miles brought sat untouched on the table. I sat on my bed, staring out the window. The truth was, I’d first heard about Stella’s kidney failure from my roommate, Hannah. I had just gotten back to the dorm, exhausted from my part-time job, when she’d said, “Did you guys hear? That heiress from the business school, Stella Sterling? I think she has kidney disease.” “Seriously?” “For real. And I heard a rumor that her family is looking for a donor match. Money is no object.” “Wait, isn’t it better for a relative to donate?” “Who knows with rich people? What family member would willingly give up a kidney?” Hannah held up five fingers. “I heard a successful match gets at least this much.” “Whoa, five million?” “You bet.” “I still wouldn’t do it. Who knows what losing a kidney does to your body.” “The chances of a stranger being a match are tiny anyway. Don’t even think about it.” I had stopped on my way to the bathroom, my head down. Five million dollars. If I was a match, it would be more than enough to cover my sister’s medical bills. I found a contact and quietly got tested. After the results came in, Miles Sterling contacted me, desperate to get me into the hospital as soon as possible. The comments had screamed at me not to sign, but they didn’t know what I knew. A few days before, I had been getting hot water down the hall when I overheard Hannah on the phone. “Mr. Sterling, I told Zoe about it. About that job interview…” “You don’t need to interview. Just show up for work on Monday.” “Okay, thank you, Mr. Sterling.” The male voice on the other end was identical to Miles’s. That’s when I realized the person who wanted me to hear that rumor was Miles himself. He couldn’t just stand by and watch the sister he’d adored since childhood waste away. In his world, nothing was more important than Stella. And me? I was desperate for money. The cost of my sister’s treatment was a mountain I could never climb, no matter how many jobs I worked. He knew I’d jump at the chance. He understood desperation. And he played it perfectly. 3 That’s why, when the live comments first appeared, I barely reacted. What did a blood connection matter? His scheming had started long before we ever met. From the comments, I’d pieced together the story. When I was three months old, my parents had a huge fight. My mother, in a fit of rage, took me and drove off. After a few hours, exhausted, she pulled over to the side of the road to sleep. When she woke up, I was gone. She spiraled into a deep depression. Six months later, her younger sister gave birth to a baby girl but died from complications. By family agreement, my parents adopted the baby, giving her my mother’s maiden name. That child, Stella, became my mother’s lifeline. My two older brothers came to see her as their real sister. As for me, I was passed from one trafficker to another before being sold. My sister, Mia, was a victim of trafficking too. The difference was, I was just a baby, with no memories. She was four, and she remembered her parents, but she could never find them. When Mia got sick, her biggest fear was leaving me all alone. She dragged me to the police station to give a DNA sample for the national database, just in case. In fact, just before my kidney match results came in, I got a call from the police about a potential familial match from that sample. I’m sure Miles got the same notification. Why else would he have been in such a hurry to get me hospitalized the moment we met? More importantly, I didn’t believe for a second that if the rest of the Sterling family knew the truth, they would let me just walk away. It would be a guilt trip of epic proportions. A daughter they’d raised for twenty years versus one they’d lost for twenty years? Was there ever any question who they’d choose? 4 Miles had actually hired a caretaker for me, but he fired her after only a day. He’d overheard her on the phone, gossiping. “You wouldn’t believe it. This girl in my room is having major surgery, giving up a kidney, and no one is here with her. Just me. The guy who hired me, her employer I guess, barely knows her. It’s so weird. The room is nice, though. Such a shame.” Miles fired her on the spot and left in a hurry. Half an hour later, someone else came to my room. It was Catherine Sterling. Miles and Stella’s mother. The new caretaker trailed behind her. Elegant, with a hint of resolve. That was my first impression. The comments appeared again. 【It’s the mom!】 【She’s going to recognize her, right?】 【Mrs. Sterling is so classy.】 【Even if she doesn’t recognize her, she has to feel some kind of connection, right?】 Catherine’s voice was gentle. “Hello, Zoe. I’m Miles’s mother. I’ve arranged for a new caretaker for you.” She paused. “I just wanted to ask… are you doing this voluntarily? My son can be a bit… intense when it comes to his sister. I was worried he might have pressured you.” I shook my head. “You don’t have to worry. It was my decision. I signed a contract with Mr. Sterling.” Her gaze drifted to my eyes, and for a moment, she seemed lost in thought. Snapping out of it, she glanced around the room. “Are you here alone?” “Yes.” She hesitated. “Do your parents know?” A small smile touched my lips. “My consent is all that matters.” If Mia knew I was having surgery, she’d drag me out of this hospital by the ear. In her eyes, my health was everything. But in my eyes, her life was everything. A heavy silence fell between us. Just as it became unbearable, Stella appeared in the doorway. “Mom, are you visiting Miss Zuo too?” Catherine rushed to her side. “Stella, darling, what are you doing here? Are you feeling alright?” “I’m fine, Mom, don’t worry. I just wanted to see how Miss Zuo was doing, in case she was nervous.” Stella looked at me. “Miss Zuo, are you scared about the surgery? To be honest, I’m getting a little nervous myself.” “Don’t you worry, sweetie,” Catherine soothed her. “Everything is going to be fine.” When she turned back to me, presumably to offer similar words of comfort, I just shrugged. “I’m not scared.” The thought of five million dollars was all the motivation I needed. Fear hadn’t even entered the equation. Stella laughed. “You’re so much braver than I am, Miss Zuo. I should learn from you.” She leaned against her mother’s shoulder. “You don’t think I’m a coward, do you, Mom?” Catherine stroked her hair. “Of course not. In my eyes, you’re the bravest girl in the world.” This scene of mother-daughter affection felt deeply familiar. The comments drifted by. 【Déjà vu. First Miles, now Catherine.】 【Stella really is the family favorite.】 【I’ve noticed the Sterlings only ever visit Zoe in groups.】 【It’s like they need a buffer. Wonder if it’s intentional.】 Before they left, Catherine introduced the new caretaker. I had to hand it to her; the woman was a professional. She took care of everything, leaving me with nothing to worry about. 5 The day before the surgery, my sister called. She was ecstatic. “Zoe, the police think they’ve found your birth parents!” She babbled on for a while before asking if I wanted to meet them. I knew this was what she’d always wanted for me, for me to not be alone. Before I could answer, Miles burst into my room, his voice urgent. “Can we move the surgery to tonight?” I instinctively covered the phone, terrified Mia would overhear. I’d never seen Miles so panicked. On the other end of the line, Mia must have heard his voice. “Zoe, are you busy? Think about it and call me back. If you decide to go, I’ll go with you.” “Okay,” I said quickly. “Take care of yourself, Mia. Get some rest. I’ll be home soon.” After I hung up, I looked at Miles. “Fine.” The comments went into a frenzy. 【NOOOO!】 【I feel so bad for Zoe. Miles does not deserve to be her brother.】 【What’s the rush? Is Stella your only sister?】 【They were so close! If he’d just waited one more day, Zoe and her sister would have agreed to the meeting! Why move it up?】 【I’d bet my last bag of chips Miles knows the truth.】 【Someone in the Sterling family must have gotten the police notification. That’s why Miles is panicking.】 【So the parents are excited their precious daughter has found a donor, huh?】 【I wonder how they’ll feel when they find out that donor is their other daughter, the one their own son sent to the operating table.】 【How did Catherine not feel anything? She literally just met her.】 Hearing my agreement, Miles seemed stunned. He asked, a strange note in his voice, “Why did you agree so easily?” I blinked. “What’s the difference between having surgery today and having it tomorrow?” His eyes darkened. “Just remember to fast until then.” The comments screamed back. 【There’s a HUGE difference!】 【If you’d waited a day, your parents would have known the truth! They never would have let this happen!】 【Liam needs to find out, NOW! I can’t stand seeing Zoe get hurt like this.】 【Okay, unpopular opinion, but she’s not really losing here. She’s getting five million dollars and she’s doing it willingly. Why is everyone acting like she’s some huge victim?】 【They’ll make it up to her when she comes back to the family.】 【Why does everyone assume the long-lost daughter is automatically more important than the one they raised for twenty years? It’s obvious Stella is the priority right now.】 【If she went back now, they’d just guilt-trip her into donating anyway.】 My eyes scanned the comments, a small smile touching my lips as I read the last two. They thought just like I did. Miles quickly confirmed the new time with the doctors. As I was wheeled toward the operating room, I saw a familiar figure standing beside another gurney. It was Miles, surrounded by what I assumed was the rest of the Sterling family. As we passed, my eyes met a woman’s across the hall. It was Catherine. I didn’t have time to read her expression. The doors swung shut, and soon, the anesthesia pulled me under.

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It was the third year of my brother’s cruel obsession with the scholarship girl. And her brother had finally come for him. The man who stepped out of the sleek black luxury sedan was young, with a cold, chiseled face. The live comments scrolling across my vision went wild. 【OMG, RODRIGO… WE’VE BEEN WAITING FOR YOU.】 【You finally made it. Back with a vengeance.】 【These two psycho siblings are about to get what they deserve.】 【I’ve hated them for so long.】 【And so begins the epic revenge arc for our main characters.】 The comments were a victory parade. But as I looked at the man in the severe black suit standing before me, my own expression was… unnatural. Because my brother, Leo, learned his brand of coercive love from me. And three years ago, I was the one who had held this man captive. 1 I never thought I would see Rodrigo Vincent again. I certainly never imagined he was Iris Vincent’s brother. Three years ago, at the university’s opening ceremony, my brother saw student representative Iris Vincent and fell for her, hard. He became completely obsessed. But Iris didn’t like him at all. My brother, Leo, was used to getting his way. He was arrogant, reckless, and spoiled. When Iris rejected him, he used the fact that she was a poor orphan with no one to protect her to force her into a relationship. Of course, I tried to stop his tyrannical behavior. But Leo shut me down with a single sentence. “Phoebe, your little affair with that scholarship kid back in the day was the talk of the town, remember?” He sneered. “You bought him a car, a condo, threw money at him, and even hired guards to make sure he couldn’t escape.” “Mom, Dad, Grandpa, Grandma… they all tried to talk you out of it, but no one could control you.” He muttered under his breath, “I learned everything from you.” 2 As he spoke, something shifted. This was the same Leo who never shed a tear or begged for mercy, even when our father beat him as a child. But now, his eyes were suddenly red. “I’ll listen to you on anything else,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “But not this, Phoebe. I’m really in love with her.” His hair was a stylish, chaotic mess, but the look on his face was one of rare, desperate sincerity. I looked at him and saw a ghost of myself. I, too, had once pursued a hopeless love for a man, so desperately that I resorted to every possible means to keep him. And in the end, I still couldn’t make him stay. He still escaped. Seeing the raw vulnerability on my brother’s face, I turned away. “You can keep her with you,” I said, my back to him. “But you are not to harm her in any other way. If you do, I’ll cut off every single one of your cards.” 3 What happened with Rodrigo Vincent all those years ago had indeed been a massive, ugly scandal. So ugly that to this day, no one dared to even mention his name in my presence. So, at this moment, watching him step out of a black Bugatti, I felt a surreal sense of dislocation, as if I were looking across a chasm of time. He wore a severe black suit, an expensive steel watch gleaming on his wrist. His assistant walked beside him, bowing slightly, guiding his path. He seemed taller, I thought. When I held him captive, it was right after our high school graduation. He was only eighteen then. Poor, thin, always in the same faded, threadbare button-down. He always kept his face turned away from me, a mask of cold indifference. He could go an entire day without meeting my eyes once. 4 “This is Ms. Phoebe Chen,” his assistant said, introducing me. The man’s eyelids fluttered, and he finally deigned to look at me. The instant my gaze met Rodrigo Vincent’s dark, fathomless eyes, a stream of white text scrolled rapidly across my vision— 【FUCK YES! I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS MOMENT.】 【The male lead is finally back.】 【And this time he’s not the beautiful, tragic boy he used to be. He’s a god-tier powerhouse.】 【No more humiliation, no more suffering. From now on, it’s all ruthless, satisfying revenge.】 【These two psycho siblings are the first pieces of cannon fodder he’s going to crush.】 【He’ll stomp them into the ground and rescue his sister. It’ll be easier than squashing two ants.】 【They bullied his sister for years.】 【I can’t WAIT to see them groveling.】 【Go get ‘em, Rodrigo. Make them pay.】 5 I stared at the intensely charged words scrolling past. …Male lead? Was that Rodrigo? For a moment, I wasn’t even surprised. His qualifications were perfect for any protagonist: an impeccably handsome face, a brilliant mind, a stoic and reserved personality. Even his difficult, impoverished background fit the trope. “Ms. Chen?” the assistant prompted again. I snapped back to the present, met with Rodrigo’s cold, impatient glare. I suppressed the turmoil inside me, looked him in the eye, and spoke with calm sincerity. “I will have Iris sent back to you tonight.” 6 His assistant, probably expecting a fight, seemed prepared with a list of arguments and conditions. My straightforward statement left him speechless. His words died in his throat. He glanced at me, bewildered, then instinctively turned to Rodrigo, who hadn’t said a word. Time had certainly left its mark on Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed in black, his expression was unreadable, but every subtle movement radiated a powerful, mature masculinity. He was no longer the thin, trapped boy I had once kept locked away. “And what about the years of harm Leo inflicted on my sister?” Rodrigo finally spoke. His voice was low, with a magnetic timbre. “How do we settle that?” “However you see fit,” I replied instantly. “The Chen family will not protect him.” With that, I picked up my bag and started to leave. “I’ll have Iris returned to you on time tonight.” But his next words stopped me in my tracks. His voice echoed softly in the cavernous lobby. “And you?” he asked. “How do we settle the score for what you did to me?” 7 I never thought Rodrigo would bring it up so openly. It had been nearly five years. Seeing him again tonight, his eyes were full of nothing but coldness and the distance of a stranger. I had almost convinced myself he’d forgotten me. After all, he had despised me so much. After all, he had escaped from me in such a state of desperation. That had to have been the most humiliating period of his life. And yet, he was the one bringing it up. The glass window reflected the sharp, icy silhouette of the man behind me. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other. He wasn’t looking at me, but his words, spoken in a slow, deliberate drawl, had frozen me in place. The live comments probably didn’t know about my history with Rodrigo—that part of the story that deviated from the main plot. So, after he spoke, the screen was flooded with question marks. 【Who is she?】 【What did Rodrigo just say? Did I mishear…?】 【WTF did this cannon fodder bitch do to him?】 【It must have been bad if it needs a reckoning…】 【Cannon fodder needs to learn its place.】 【Wait… I don’t even remember this chick’s name. How is she connected to the male lead?】 8 “Settle it however you want,” I said, turning my head slightly to face him. I had taken advantage of his weakness back then. So now, if he wanted to make me pay, it was only right that I accept it. Besides, the comments made it perfectly clear. He was the hero, back for his revenge. I was just the cannon fodder he was meant to crush. I had no power to fight him. So I stood there, waiting for his retribution. But after I spoke, a frown creased his brow. For the first time, Rodrigo truly looked at me. In the dark pools of his eyes, I saw the reflection of my own impassive profile. “What does that mean?” he asked, the question almost reflexive. “It means that no matter how you decide to settle this, I will cooperate.” I paused, then added, “But please, leave the rest of my family out of it. Just my brother.” My expression faltered for a second. “Back then, everyone tried to stop me. It was my own stubbornness that made me keep you.” A sudden, cold smile touched Rodrigo’s lips. “Phoebe,” he asked, his voice dripping with ice, “what makes you think you’re in any position to negotiate with me?” He was right. I had no position, no leverage. I gave him one last, calm look, then turned to leave again. From behind me, Rodrigo called my name again, his voice sharp, trying to force me to stop. But I didn’t pause this time. As I pressed the down button for the elevator, I thought I saw a flicker of movement in the lobby behind me. Rodrigo Vincent, surging to his feet. 9 I didn’t hesitate. I got in my car and drove straight out of the city, toward the suburbs. Leo was dangerously attached to Iris. He kept her hidden away, guarded her like a hawk. He’d never even introduced her to his closest friends or family. He was terrified she’d run away. He had multiple safe houses, all for her. But no matter how cunning he was, he was still my little brother. I knew all of his hiding spots. That was why I could so confidently promise Rodrigo I’d have Iris back to him tonight. Because I knew that Leo was out of town for the next two days for a competition he couldn’t miss. And Iris wasn’t with him. 10 As I approached the cozy-looking villa in the suburbs, I paused, struck by the garden. The entire yard was filled with flowers. A stone path, illuminated by ground lights, led to the front door. I used my key to unlock the double bolts. Iris, sitting on the living room sofa, turned her head at the sound. Her expression was cool, but I saw a flash of surprise and eager hope in her eyes. The moment she saw it was me, that hope vanished, replaced by a chilling disappointment. Before I could get a better look, she had already turned her head away. I closed the door and got straight to the point. “Pack your important things. You’re leaving with me.” Iris looked at me, confused. “…What are you talking about?” 11 “Your brother is back,” I told her. “He’s here to take you home.” Leo had tormented her for three years. Even the live comments knew she was desperate to escape his grasp. But at my words, Iris’s brow furrowed. There was no joy on her face, only confusion and distress. I heard her whisper, “Why so soon…” I didn’t catch the rest of it. When I leaned in to ask, she hugged her knees and turned away. “He locked all my documents in his safe.” Her posture was defensive. “I don’t know the combination.” She wouldn’t even say his name. “I might know Leo’s password.” But my words didn’t bring her any relief. Instead, the last bit of color drained from her face. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go upstairs and try.” 12 We stood in front of the safe in the second-floor study. I typed in the date Leo and Iris first met. The safe beeped, signaling an error. I looked back at the silent Iris. “Your birthday?” She bit her lip, frowning, before slowly reciting the numbers. I typed them in one by one. After the sixth digit, there was a soft click. The safe door swung open. It was such a simple password. I looked at Iris, puzzled. “Have you never tried?” I gestured to the safe, which was sitting in plain sight. But there was no surprise on her face. She just lowered her gaze and changed the subject. “Why the rush? Aren’t you afraid of what he’ll do when he comes back and finds me gone?” I pulled her documents out of the safe. “Let’s go,” I said. “His rage is better than his death.” 13 I drove away from the villa with Iris in the back seat. As we were leaving, she stood in the yard for a long time, looking back at the house. “He tormented you for so long. Why would you be reluctant to leave?” I asked her. My question seemed to startle her. Her expression immediately became guarded. She quickly got into the car. A moment later, her muffled voice came from the back. “I’m not.” I watched her in the rearview mirror. Her departure felt both decisive and strangely hesitant. She’d even brought her phone. The screen kept lighting up with an endless stream of messages and notifications. She stared at it, her eyes fixed, but never picked it up. Instead, her fingers gently caressed the thin band of the watch on her wrist. When I stopped the car in front of the downtown skyscraper that now bore the Vincent family name, I turned around and apologized to her sincerely. “I’m sorry,” I said. “For everything my brother did to you these past years.” 14 The moment the words left my mouth, the live comments appeared. 【LMAO, the cannon fodder bitch is apologizing now?】 【Where was she when her psycho brother was torturing Iris for the past two years? Playing dead?】 【She knows the reckoning is here. Now she’s scared.】 【Serves her right.】 【But begging won’t save you, Phoebe.】 【You and your brother are both going down.】 The comments scrolled past, a chorus of gleeful anticipation. Remembering what triggered their appearance, my heart skipped a beat. I instinctively looked out the car window. And there he was. Standing under a streetlamp in front of the building. Rodrigo Vincent. Dressed only in a black shirt, leaning against the lamppost, his gaze fixed on us. He stood in the shadows, his expression obscured, but his stare felt tangible, pinning me in place. There was nothing more to say to Iris. “Your brother is over there, waiting for you,” I urged. Iris got out. The moment her door clicked shut, I drove away, leaving the glittering city block behind me. 15 About ten minutes later, my assistant called, his voice frantic. “I think Leo found out. He didn’t even finish his competition. He’s on his way back tonight. We can’t stop him. No one dares to try.” I glanced at the back seat, at the phone and watch lying there. The phone had been buzzing with messages and calls the entire ride. Its battery finally died, the screen going dark. “Let him come back,” I sighed. “Just stay with him. I’ll meet him at the airport when he lands.” At five o’clock that morning, I met a storm-faced Leo at the arrivals gate. His eyes were bloodshot. The first words out of his mouth were an accusation. “You sent her away?” “You need to understand, Leo. Iris is not your property.” I tried to reason with him. But he was too far gone, lashing out, looking for any way to hurt me back. “Property?” His eyes were wild. “Then what about you?” he roared. “When you locked that scholarship kid up, cut him off from the world, made him disappear from everyone’s lives? Why the hell didn’t you know that he wasn’t your property?”

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At a dinner with both our families, my wife’s protégé didn’t just put a bill on the table. He threw it in my face. He then had the audacity to announce that my wife was going to be his surrogate, and that I was expected to split the twenty-five-thousand-dollar bill for all the expenses, from conception to postpartum care. I looked at my wife, completely floored. Waiting for her to tell me this was some kind of sick joke, to give me any explanation at all. Instead, she took Julian’s hand and looked me dead in the eye. “I agreed to carry Julian’s child. As my husband, splitting the cost is your duty. Stop trying to run from your responsibilities.” And in that instant, everything became brutally clear. My nine-year marriage wasn’t a partnership. It was a punchline. And some people? They just belong in the garbage. … 1 The family dinner had barely started when my wife’s protégé, Julian, slapped a cost estimate sheet onto the table in front of me. He stood up, chest puffed out like a preening rooster, and looked down his nose at me. “Ariel agreed to be my surrogate. The total for her pregnancy, delivery, and postpartum care comes to twenty-five thousand dollars. You’ll be splitting it.” A dead silence fell over the table. My parents, who had just been sharing a toast with my in-laws, froze mid-sip. I stared at my wife, Ariel, stunned. I was desperately hoping she’d tell me this was some kind of sick joke. We were a couple. Married for nine years, and child-free by choice. Now she was going to have a baby for another man, and this was the first I was hearing of it? It felt surreal, impossible. But Ariel wasn’t joking. Her hand was intertwined with Julian’s, their fingers locked together. The look she gave me was cold, brutal. “Nolan,” she said, her voice devoid of warmth, “I’m carrying a child. As my husband, you’re expected to share the costs. Stop trying to shirk your responsibility.” Emboldened by her support, Julian shot me a triumphant smirk and, right in front of me, pressed a kiss to the corner of Ariel’s lips. Then, he produced a printed document. “Regarding Ariel bearing my child,” he announced, “I have three conditions.” “One: From now until the baby is born, you will cater to Ariel’s every need to ensure a smooth delivery.” “Two: After the birth, Ariel will need to be with the child. She’ll stay with me on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays. She’ll only be home with you on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. You are not to get jealous.” “Three: My child with Ariel will be her sole heir and inherit all of her assets. To guarantee this, you must go to a hospital and have a vasectomy.” The absurdity of his words finally snapped my parents out of their shock. My mother’s face darkened. “Have you all lost your minds?” she demanded, her voice shaking with rage. She turned to my in-laws. “Aren’t you going to say anything about this?” Julian just scoffed. “My godparents have already given their blessing.” My in-laws had informally adopted him years ago. At his words, they both nodded with cheerful smiles. “Yes, we’re aware of the arrangement,” my father-in-law confirmed. My mother-in-law even tried to reason with me. “Nolan, you know Julian’s father was Ariel’s beloved mentor. His dying wish was for Julian to have a child to carry on the family name. Ariel is just helping him fulfill that wish.” She added, with a tone of patronizing wisdom, “You’re an educated man. Surely you understand the concept of repaying a debt of gratitude?” A bitter laugh escaped my lips. “This sordid affair? You call that repaying a kindness?” Ariel’s expression soured instantly. “Nolan, this is a notification, not a negotiation! Julian is the father of my child. If you speak to him like that again, don’t blame me for what happens next.” I looked at her, a knot of disbelief tightening in my chest. “Ariel, say that again.” She rolled her eyes, her patience clearly gone. “I’m just honoring a debt, Nolan. Can you stop being so dramatic? Besides,” she added, a cruel edge to her voice, “Julian is brilliant, a top graduate from a prestigious family. His genes are far more worthy of being passed on.” “Worthy genes?” I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound raw and humorless. “The kind of genes that teach him how to be a homewrecker?” Julian’s eyes instantly welled with tears. Ariel shot to her feet, positioning herself in front of him like a shield. “Julian comes from a family of academics! What would a country hick like you know about class?” she spat. “And anyway, you wouldn’t have a child with me, so why can’t I have one with someone else?” Her words hit me like a physical blow, and the sheer audacity of it made me see red. Before we were married, it was she who had insisted on being child-free, who swore she would never have kids. To support her, I agreed. For nine years, whenever my parents gently hinted about grandchildren, I shut them down to protect her from the pressure. And now that was her excuse? In that single, blinding moment, I understood. Our nine-year marriage was a fucking joke. If she didn’t want this life anymore, then fine. Neither did I. I shot to my feet and kicked the dining table over. A chaotic mess of shattered plates and vibrant sauces splattered all over Julian and Ariel. Julian screamed. Ariel’s face turned a shade of mottled purple with rage. Before she could utter a word, I swung my hand and slapped her across the face. Then I turned my gaze to Julian. “This trash?” I said, my voice dripping with contempt. “I don’t want her anymore. You want her? She’s all yours.” My eyes locked with Ariel’s. “We’re getting a divorce.” I spoke each word with chilling clarity, then turned and walked away. My parents, their faces grim, rose and followed me, leaving behind a scene of destruction and the stunned, ugly faces of Ariel’s family. Ariel’s body trembled as she shrieked at my back, “Nolan Hamilton! You dare to ask for a divorce? You think that scares me? Fine! We’ll get a divorce! I’ll be perfectly happy without you!” I didn’t look back. With my parents in tow, I strode out of that toxic house, wanting nothing more than to escape a place I couldn’t stand for another second. Without me, Ariel? Your perfect life is about to end. After dropping my parents off, I headed back to the home I shared with Ariel, intending to pack my things. When I arrived, I found everything I owned dumped on the doorstep like a pile of garbage. The lock had been changed. My calls to Ariel went straight to voicemail. I tried a video call. Someone answered. But it wasn’t Ariel. It was Julian. He was wearing my favorite silk robe, lounging on my marriage bed. The robe was open, revealing a chest covered in fresh hickeys. He raised an eyebrow when he saw me, his expression a cocktail of smugness and provocation. “Ariel and I are a little busy trying to make a baby. Something important?” Before I could speak, he casually lifted his hand. On his finger was my wedding ring. My vision blurred for a second. It was the unique, diamond ring I had designed and crafted for Ariel myself. Just a few days ago, she’d told me she was taking it to be professionally cleaned. Instead, she’d given it to him. Even the decorative items on the nightstand had been replaced. Where our photos once stood, there were now framed pictures of him and Ariel—kissing, embracing. Noticing my gaze, Julian grinned. “Sorry about this, Nolan. Ariel said this house is mine now. All the old junk had to go, so I tossed your stuff out.” My hand tightened around my phone, knuckles turning white. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Where’s Ariel?” He blinked innocently. “Ariel? Oh, she’s in the shower.” He let out a theatrical sigh. “You have no idea how insatiable she is. Insisted on another round. So… here I am, waiting.” A wave of nausea churned in my stomach. “Oh, and by the way,” he added, “Ariel said since you’re the one who asked for the divorce, you can just take your junk and get lost. After all, she’s the one who bought this condo.” Before I could retort, the bathroom door opened and Ariel walked into the frame. She was wearing a semi-translucent piece of lingerie, her chest a canvas of red marks. Her eyes were hazy, post-coital. She immediately snuggled up to Julian. “Sweetheart,” Julian said, his voice laced with mock concern, “your husband is watching.” Only then did she seem to notice me. Her face hardened. “You wanted a divorce, remember? What are you doing calling in the middle of the night? This place has nothing to do with you anymore!” The dam of my anger finally broke. “Don’t you forget, Ariel, I paid for this condo! The seed money for your company came from me selling two of my tech patents! Your first big deal was through my network! A few people call you ‘Ms. Hamilton,’ and you actually start believing your own hype? Who the hell do you think you are to kick me out?” Ariel had been on her high horse for so long, she’d forgotten what it felt like to be called out. My words struck a nerve, stripping away her facade. Her face twisted in fury. “Don’t flatter yourself, Nolan! Everything I have, I built myself! It has nothing to do with you! In fact, if it weren’t for me, do you think a guy from the sticks like you would have this life? For nine years, you and your parents have been leeches, sucking me dry. What right do you have to bark at me?” A sharp pain lanced through my chest. I stared at her distorted, enraged face and felt the last vestiges of affection die. “Ariel, every single penny my parents and I have spent in the last nine years, I earned with my own two hands! Without me, do you really think a fraud like you could have ever reached the position you’re in today?” She gritted her teeth. “I’m a top-tier graduate, how dare you talk to me like that? Do you honestly believe the company can’t function without you? Nolan, who do you think you are?” She was practically vibrating with rage. “You want to make a scene? Fine! I’ll give you one! We’ll finalize the divorce tomorrow, and you can process your termination! I’ll show you that the company will do just fine without you!” “If you’re going to be ruthless, Ariel, then don’t blame me for being cruel.” “Your company,” I said with a cold smile, “can go to hell.” I was about to end the call, but she started screaming, her voice a furious roar just before the connection cut. “You think you can survive after leaving me and the company, Nolan? I’ve already put the word out to every major corporation in this city! You won’t find a single job! I’m going to run you out of town!” I hung up and turned away without a second’s hesitation, fighting the urge to storm in there and end both of them. The next day, I drafted the divorce agreement and went to the company to find Ariel. The security guard stopped me at the entrance. I frowned. “I’m the Vice President…” The guard let out a derisive snort. “What Vice President? An email went out this morning. You’ve been fired.” He grinned maliciously. “And Ms. Hamilton gave specific orders: no dogs or Nolan Hamilton allowed on the premises.” My hands clenched into fists, a hot spike of anger piercing my chest. Just then, Ariel and Julian walked out together. “Well, well,” Julian said in a singsong, mocking tone. “If it isn’t our former VP. Why aren’t you going in?” Before I could answer, he gasped in fake surprise, covering his mouth. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. Ariel fired you. You’re less than nothing now.” The security guard chuckled along with him. Ariel watched, a contemptuous smile playing on her lips. I took a deep breath, ignoring him, my eyes fixed on her. “I’m here to discuss the divorce.” A flicker of triumph crossed Julian’s face. Ariel scoffed and handed me a folder. “I’ve already had the papers drawn up. Sign them.” I took it and opened it. My jaw tightened. “You want me to leave with nothing?” The agreement was crystal clear: I was to be left completely penniless. How dare she? “What did you expect?” Ariel sneered. Julian crossed his arms. “It’s only fair. This is Hamilton Enterprises. Everything you’ve enjoyed came from the Hamilton family. What right do you have to any of Ariel’s assets?” “Come on, if you have any dignity left, just sign it,” Ariel urged. When I didn’t move, she mocked me. “I knew it. You can’t bear to give up this lifestyle. All that tough talk was just an act, wasn’t it? Nolan, if you humbly agree to split my pregnancy costs and get that vasectomy, maybe I’ll consider keeping you around. Otherwise…” “No need. I’ll sign.” I cut her off, pulled out a pen, and scrawled my name across the documents. Ariel’s face fell, a flicker of shock in her eyes. “Nolan, you actually…” “Ariel!” Julian interrupted, grabbing her hand. “Everything he has, everything he’s wearing… it’s all yours, right? That custom-tailored suit, the car he drove here—they’re worth a fortune! Those are your assets. You can’t just let him walk away with them.” My head snapped up, my gaze locking with hers. Ariel hesitated for a moment, then a cruel smirk spread across her face. “Julian’s right. The car and the suit on your back were gifts from me. If you’re leaving with nothing, that means nothing.” She paused, savoring the moment. “But, if you get on your knees right now, apologize to me and Julian, and sign the commitment letter he drafted, I might give you another chance. Otherwise, don’t blame me for humiliating you.” The last bit of warmth in my heart turned to ice. “Fine.” With a cold laugh, I met the mocking and curious stares of the surrounding employees and began to strip off my jacket and trousers. I even kicked off my shoes. Finally, I threw the car keys, hitting her squarely in the face. “Is that good enough for you?” I asked, my voice dangerously calm. “The shirt and underwear are my own. I assume I can keep those?” A red mark bloomed on Ariel’s cheek. She was frozen in shock. I didn’t spare her another glance. With my back straight and my head held high, I turned and walked away as if I didn’t have a care in the world. Ariel, however, was trembling with fury. “Nolan! You insist on defying me, don’t you? Fine! Don’t expect any mercy from me!” For nine years, I had been the one to yield, to compromise. She couldn’t comprehend why, this time, I refused to bow my head. I ignored her, hailed a taxi, and left, enduring the stares of passersby. Since she wanted to be merciless, I no longer had any reason to show her any decency. Using the last of my cash, I took the cab to my parents’ house. They were there, along with my married sister, Sarah. The atmosphere was thick with tension. Seeing my disheveled state, my parents’ expressions grew even darker. My mother’s eyes filled with tears. “What… what happened to you? Was it Ariel?” My dad quickly ushered me inside. “Go get changed before you catch a cold.” Before I could say anything, my sister clicked her tongue in annoyance. “Honestly, Nolan, why do you have to fight with Ariel? Are you happy now that you’ve dragged the whole family down with you?” “Sarah, stop it!” my mom warned, shooting her a sharp look. But my sister was too upset. She stood up, her voice rising. “Am I wrong? Why can’t I say it? If it weren’t for him, would any of this be happening to us?” My mom tried to silence her, but I sensed something was terribly wrong. “What’s happened?” I asked, my voice low. “It’s… it’s nothing…” my mom said, forcing a smile as she tried to push me toward my room. My dad held my sister back. But Sarah broke free. “Mom, Dad, how long are you going to hide it from him? You were both fired today! I lost my job, and my daughter got kicked out of her preschool this morning! This is all his fault! He deserves to know!” I froze. “What?” Tears streamed down my sister’s face, her shoulders shaking. Over my parents’ protests, she told me everything. My parents weren’t the “country hicks” Ariel claimed they were. They were university graduates who had worked hard to build a life in the city and had become respected teachers at a local college. But that morning, both had been dismissed. My sister had been fired by her manager. Even my five-year-old niece was expelled from her preschool after a call from the director. When Sarah had pressed for a reason, she was discreetly told that our family had offended someone powerful. In this city, the only person with that kind of influence and a grudge against me was Ariel. “Nolan, can you just stop this?” my sister sobbed. “You can’t ruin all of our lives just for your pride! Please, just go back to Ariel, apologize, and agree to her terms!” Clearly, my parents had told her about Ariel’s demands. My dad couldn’t take it anymore. “Sarah Hamilton, if you say one more word, you are no longer our daughter! Your brother is the victim here! How can you pressure him like this?” My sister was frantic. “What else can I do? I just got my promotion! It was so hard to get Lily into that preschool, and now it’s all gone! I have a mortgage, a car loan… Lily’s life is just beginning…” My throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn’t breathe. Steeling myself, I pulled out my phone and started calling old business contacts, hoping to find a way out of this mess. I couldn’t let my family suffer because of me. But every person I called treated me like I had the plague. “Nolan, Ms. Hamilton made it clear. Anyone who helps you goes down with you. Our hands are tied.” A contact at the college said, “Mr. Hamilton, we received an anonymous tip claiming your parents had fabricated their credentials and exhibited unethical behavior. We had no choice.” I understood perfectly. Ariel was cutting off every possible escape route, leaving me with no way out. If this continued, it wouldn’t just be me; my entire family would be destroyed. That woman… she was utterly ruthless. Before I could process it all, my phone rang. It was Ariel. The moment I answered, her mocking laughter filled my ear. “So, have you learned your lesson about what happens when you cross me?” she taunted. “Do you see what you are now, Nolan? Without me, you are nothing.” “And without you, I’m still the powerful Ms. Hamilton. Oh, did you hear? I just landed that massive government contract. A nine-figure deal.” I knew which project she was talking about. It was the one I’d spent six months chasing, wining and dining clients until I nearly got a stomach ulcer, pouring my soul into securing it. We were just days away from signing. All my hard work had become her prize. And now, she was gleefully rubbing salt in my deepest wound. I hung up the phone. In the living room, my sister’s suppressed sobs grew louder, each one a dagger in my heart. I knew I couldn’t let this go on. “Don’t worry,” I said, my voice steady and calm as I walked back into the room, now fully dressed. “I’ll fix this. By tomorrow, at the latest.” I strode out of the house, my steps firm, my back straight. Every footfall was a promise to them: the sky hadn’t fallen. Not yet. Standing on the curb waiting for a ride, I took out my phone and made one last call. “Vivian? It’s Nolan. Let’s meet. That patent you wanted? I’m ready to sell.” Ariel thought that by forcing me to leave with nothing, she had taken everything. But she forgot one crucial detail. The core technology for the company’s most valuable projects… the patents were all in my name. And since I was no longer an employee of Hamilton Enterprises, I could sell them to whomever I pleased. She wanted to drive me to ruin? Fine. I would drag her down and expose her for the fraud she was. Ariel, Julian… it’s time to settle the score.

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We brought on a new batch of interns at Apex Innovations. In a gesture of corporate goodwill, I had my assistant, Claire, order them all Starbucks. I was even planning on leading their orientation session myself. But after the delivery notification came through, the intern who’d aced her interview, a girl named Scarlett, tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey, coffee’s here. Go get it. You’re security, shouldn’t you have some initiative?” I was taken aback. It had been a long time since anyone had ordered me around like that. Before I could clarify my position, she gave me a hard shove. “Are you deaf? I said go get the coffee.” She looked me up and down with disdain. “God, I hate dealing with you blue-collar types. Can’t even handle a simple task.” Then came the kicker. “I’m just letting you know, my aunt is the CEO of this company. Piss me off, and I’ll have you fired before you can blink.” I narrowed my eyes. This was interesting. I have a 100% controlling stake in this company. I had no idea I’d been replaced. 1 “Did you hear me? Stop wasting my time and get downstairs. Now.” The intern, Scarlett Monroe, was practically yelling, her finger pointed directly at my chest. I had to admire her audacity. Not since I’d wrestled control of the company from my older siblings seven years ago had anyone dared to speak to me this way. It was the new intern orientation, so it was perfectly understandable that they wouldn’t recognize me. But recognition, or lack thereof, doesn’t excuse basic human decency. I glanced around. A few of the other interns were already watching us, whispering amongst themselves. “Did you hear that? Scarlett’s aunt is the CEO! We’re working with corporate royalty!” “And this security guard is just ignoring her? What an idiot.” One of them even offered Scarlett a sycophantic smile. “Don’t waste your breath on him, Scarlett. He’ll work his entire life and still won’t be able to afford one of your handbags.” Watching these bright, highly-educated young people fall in line behind her, I was reminded that a diploma has absolutely no correlation with character. Buoyed by the attention, Scarlett’s smirk widened. She gave me the middle finger. “You hear that, security? If you want to hold onto your pathetic little job, you’ll go get the coffee.” “And if I don’t?” I asked, my voice calm. She clearly hadn’t expected a lowly “guard” to defy her in public. Her face flushed a deep, blotchy red. “Then I’m announcing that you’re fired! Now get the hell out of my sight!” The tension in the room was thick enough to cut with a knife. A young man with glasses spoke up, his voice timid. “Scarlett… M-Ms. Monroe… maybe don’t make things difficult for him. He probably has his own duties… Look, I can go downstairs and get the coffee for everyone. You don’t have to fire him.” It was a perfectly good off-ramp, but Scarlett just snorted. “What, is this loser your cousin or something? Why are you so eager to help him?” Her gaze, cold and hard, settled back on me. “Let me say this one more time so it gets through your thick skull. My aunt is the CEO. This internship is just a formality for me; I’ll be a department head in a few weeks. I am an elite, someone a low-life like you will never even get the chance to speak to.” She leaned in, her voice a low hiss. “If you know what’s good for you, you will be downstairs in three seconds to bring me my coffee. Otherwise, I will have you blacklisted from this entire industry.” I wasn’t intimidated. In fact, I almost smiled. “Scarlett, why don’t you go ask around? Find out if the CEO of this company is your aunt, or if it’s me. Adrian Sterling.” I expected my name to make her pause, maybe even do a quick search on her phone. Instead, she shoved me again. “Who the hell do you think you are, impersonating the CEO?” A nasty realization seemed to dawn on her. “Oh, I get it. You heard my aunt is the CEO and now you want to get in her pants. Let me save you the trouble. The Monroes are a powerful family. We don’t associate with trash like you.” The amusement I’d been feeling turned to ice. The last person who spread those kinds of rumors about me is currently serving a five-to-ten-year sentence. This girl had a real talent for dancing on landmines. Just then, the conference room door opened. The young man with glasses struggled in, juggling a cardboard tray with a dozen cups of coffee. He offered a nervous smile. “Ms. Monroe, please don’t be angry. I brought the coffee up.” He glanced at me and winked. “Hey man, she’s in a bad mood. Maybe you should step out for a bit.” A flicker of warmth cut through my anger. At least one of these interns was worth keeping. I reached out to take a cup from him, but Scarlett slapped my hand away. “Whoa there, security. I know you’ve probably never had coffee this expensive, but that doesn’t give you the right to steal it.” She turned to the group. “My aunt bought this coffee for us, as a favor to me. A security guard isn’t entitled to it. Go drink your instant coffee garbage.” 2 Since I founded this company, I’ve fostered a culture of respect. We have job titles, yes, but at our core, we believe everyone is equal. In Scarlett Monroe’s world, there were elites, and there were peasants. And I was a peasant. I seriously needed to have a talk with my head of HR. When I didn’t respond, Scarlett began distributing the coffees herself. When she was done, there was one cup left over. She walked over to a large potted plant in the corner and poured the entire latte into the soil. “You see that, security?” she announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I would rather pour this Starbucks down the drain than let a low-life like you drink it.” She then tossed the empty cup at me. “And throw this out. We can’t have you taking pictures with the cup, pretending you can afford it, trying to catfish women online.” I just watched her, my expression unreadable. From the moment I’d walked in, I had given her multiple chances to de-escalate. Instead, she chose to double down every single time. And this aunt of hers… I had to find out who had the gall to impersonate me as the CEO of my own company. With that thought, I decided to play along a little longer. I let a bit of the tension leave my shoulders. “Scarlett, you said your aunt is the CEO. Who is she?” Seeing my apparent capitulation, Scarlett became even more smug. “Don’t think I don’t know your game. You’re just trying to get her name out of me so you can stalk her.” She smirked. “I’ve seen guys like you before. Not every piece of trash gets to marry into a family like ours. Do yourself a favor, turn right out the door, and find a nice Uber Eats driver to settle down with.” Her words made me realize how foolish my plan to play along was. This needed to end now. I gave up on trying to get information from her and pulled the conference room door open, intending to call security. Scarlett slammed it shut, blocking my path. “You think you can run away after I’ve exposed you? Not a chance.” Her eyes glittered with malice. “Here’s the deal. You get on your knees and bow to me twice, and I’ll let you leave.” “Otherwise… you can kiss your career goodbye.” I stared at her, my voice dangerously low. “I hope you don’t regret a single word you’ve just said.” The next thing I knew, the coffee in her hand was flying through the air, drenching the front of my custom-tailored suit. Without a single thought, my hand shot out and I slapped her across the face. “You’re asking for it.” Stunned, she touched her cheek, and then her face contorted in a mask of fury. She grabbed my arm. “Everyone, look! This low-life tried to hit on me, and when I rejected him, he assaulted me! Does this company have any rules? Is this what you allow here?” She was screaming now. “Some uneducated loser thinks he can put his hands on a graduate student who studied abroad? He must be insane!” She turned to the other interns. “Whoever can make this man kneel and apologize to me, I’ll have my aunt promote you on the spot!” At the word “promote,” their eyes lit up. “I’ll hold him down for you, Ms. Monroe! Make him bow 99 times!” “This creep was obviously trying to sleep his way to the top! He probably sold his ass just to get this security job!” “Ms. Monroe has spoken! This disrespectful bastard needs to be taught a lesson!” Only Ben, the young man with the glasses, tried to intervene. “Stop it! This is illegal! Even if her aunt is the CEO, you can’t treat someone like this!” But he was one person against a dozen. They shoved him to the ground. I reached for my phone to call the head of security directly, but Scarlett was faster. She snatched it from my hand and smashed it on the floor. “Looking for some sugar mama to come save you?” she sneered. “Too late. In this company, my word is law.” 3 I had reached my limit. This woman, for all her education, was a toxic, vindictive menace. She had to be fired, blacklisted, and escorted off the premises immediately. And every intern who had enabled her would be joining her. Before the mob could descend on me, I kicked out, striking Scarlett in the stomach and sending her stumbling back. I yanked the door open, ready to find my security team. But in the next second, a pair of interns grabbed me from behind and dragged me back into the room. Scarlett was clutching her stomach, her face twisted in pain and rage. “You… you bastard! You actually kicked me! I’m going to kill you today!” At her signal, two more interns seized my arms, pinning me in place. “He disrespected you, Ms. Monroe! He needs to be taught a lesson!” “I say we strip him naked and throw him out on the street! Let’s make him famous!” A few of the male interns crowded around Scarlett, their faces etched with concern. “Are you alright, Ms. Monroe? Should I take you to the hospital?” Scarlett ignored them. She grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back. “You still don’t get it, do you? You need to be taught some respect.” Her voice dropped, thick with venom. “A worthless piece of trash who sells his body for a living dares to touch me? You must have a death wish.” She gave a nod to the interns holding me. “Make him kneel. You’d better get on your knees and apologize, then take off your clothes piece by piece for our entertainment. If you don’t… I’ll have someone make you disappear, and no one will ever know.” I narrowed my eyes. The last time I’d heard a threat like that, it was from my own brother and sister. One of them is now permanently exiled overseas, and the other has been struck from the family records. I had no problem arranging a similar fate for Scarlett Monroe. Perhaps my expression was more menacing than I realized. The interns holding me exchanged a nervous glance. No one made a move to force me to my knees. Scarlett was about to do it herself when the conference room door swung open again. My executive assistant, Claire, walked in, her arms full of files. She stopped dead, her face paling as she took in the scene. She dropped the files on the table and rushed over, pushing the interns away from me. “What is going on here?” she demanded, her voice sharp and authoritative. “Who gave you the right to do this?” The interns might not have known me, but they all knew Claire. They fell silent. All except Scarlett. She laughed, assuming Claire was rushing to her defense. She clapped Claire on the shoulder. “Claire, honey, you’ve got good instincts. Always know who to suck up to.” She gestured at me. “I don’t know how you people hire security, but this one is completely unhinged. Get the head of HR in here. I need to have a serious talk with him about hiring standards…” Before she could finish, Claire had already guided me to a chair, her expression a mixture of fury and concern. “Mr. Sterling, are you alright? I’m calling the police right now.”

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Chapter 1 The so-called symbiosis between humans and vampires is a lie. A charade, thin as a cicada’s wing, stretched over the chasm between predator and prey. In the dynasty of the blood-clans, they call this charade a “delicate balance.” My job, as a Hunter of the Order, is to shatter it. My mission is here, in the deceptively serene city of Havencrest. My target: the House of Fairchild. Right now, I’m buried in a thicket of roses they call “The Blood Hells.” The name fits. The petals are a red so dense it bleeds to black at the edges, and when they’re in full bloom, the garden does look like a beautiful, terrible corner of hell. The cloying, sweet scent hangs in the air like old blood. Intel says the young master of the house, Emil Fairchild, is obsessed with them. A love for the color red. It’s about the only thing about him that fits the vampire archetype. Intel also says his name is Emil, and he’s a few years shy of his two-hundredth birthday—a teenager by their standards. Because of this, he doesn’t even have a formal blood servant. For me, that’s the perfect opening. I shift my weight, the cold, hard outline of the silver dagger tucked in my belt pressing against my palm. It keeps me sharp. The whisper of footsteps on the gravel path sends a jolt through me. I hold my breath, sinking deeper into the thorny embrace of the roses. A blond vampire appears at the end of the path. I narrow my eyes, studying my potential target. The Kindred are all blessed with an unnatural beauty, and he’s no exception. He’s tall and slender, his golden hair a stark contrast to the requisite vampiric pallor, giving his face a vitality that shouldn’t belong to his kind. He is, as the reports suggested, energetic—rumor has it even his tutor, a stern old creature named Silas, can barely keep track of him. He doesn’t seem to notice me. His gaze is lost in the sea of crimson blossoms. My briefing included a psychological profile: he despises the long, tedious lessons on Kindred history and etiquette, preferring the solitude of his garden. He claims that only here, surrounded by a red as fierce and hot as fire, can he feel truly “alive.” A creature that sustains itself on stolen life, seeking a sense of vitality from a plant. The irony is laughable. Just as I’m cataloging his weaknesses, his head snaps in my direction. I’m made. My stomach plummets. My right hand is already gripping the hilt of my dagger. But to my astonishment, his brilliant blue eyes hold no alarm, no hostility. Instead, something sparks within them, hot and fast like flint striking tinder. He freezes, as if enchanted, staring right at me. The entire world seems to fade into a gray wash around him, leaving only me, the intruder, in sharp focus. So much for stealth. I rise to my feet, making a show of calmly brushing crimson petal fragments from my clothes. I let my own eyes—red, a rare trait in humans and a mark of my lineage—fill with the practiced contempt and vigilance of a Hunter. He doesn’t seem to see it. “I—I’m Emil. Emil Fairchild.” His voice is a slight stammer, his feet rooted to the spot. He looks like he wants to step closer but is terrified of scaring me away. What a naive little fool. “I know.” My voice is ice. I’m taller than him by a few inches, and I use the height to look down on him as I initiate my backup plan. “Emil Fairchild, in the name of the goddess Themis…” “My lord! It is time for your lesson!” A furious roar shatters the moment. A silver-haired, ancient-looking vampire—Silas, it must be—leans out of a high window before disappearing, clearly on his way down. My gaze sharpens on him. “My lord, who is this?” he demands as he storms into the garden, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of the sword at his hip. This old one. He’s the real threat. Emil snaps out of his trance, his eyes, now filled with a desperate curiosity, turning back to me. He doesn’t even know my name. “Cole,” I say, my voice clipped. “Yes, yes! His name is Cole.” Emil rushes to repeat it, eager to dismiss the old man. “Cole is a… a new friend. He’s my friend.” “Cole?” Silas’s eyes are like razors, scraping over me. “I have never seen him on the grounds.” His nostrils flare. He can smell my humanity. I can almost hear his thoughts, the standard vampire litany: humans, those grasping, greedy creatures, nothing but filth and deceit beneath a thin skin. I see his hand tighten on his sword. Emil frantically steps between us. “But my lord, you don’t have any human friends,” Silas says, his tone a clear warning. Then, a new thought seems to occur to him. Perhaps he’s considering Emil’s impending coming-of-age ceremony, and the need for a human blood servant as a sort of… final project. He relaxes his grip. “The Kindred do not need to be friends with humans. I have taught you this, my lord,” Silas says, his gaze flicking from Emil to me. “But they can be kept.” He claps Emil on the shoulder. “The estate’s wards are strong. You needn’t worry about any dirty little hunters.” The first part was an instruction for Emil. The second was a warning for me. This old bastard is sharper than I thought. Once the meddling tutor is gone, Emil dares to drift closer. It’s only then I realize the golden-haired aristocrat is indeed a bit shorter than me. “Emil Fairchild. My name is—” “You already said that,” I cut in coolly, observing him. He is cautious to the point of seeming timid, a perfect match for the naive profile I was given. He seems to be wrestling with Silas’s words. I decide to force the issue. “Blood servant. What is that?” “No! That’s not—Cole isn’t my blood servant. You can do anything you want, just… as long as you’re willing to stay.” The words burst out of him, and he immediately flushes, embarrassed by his own forwardness. He’s like a child who wants to keep a bright, warm thing close to him, just like his garden of Blood Hells. And right now, I’m the bright, warm thing that has caught his eye. “In a vampire’s mansion, what else is there for a human to do?” I ask, tossing the cold, hard reality back at him. He thinks for a moment. The only job opening for a human in the entire estate is… “…A blood servant,” he whispers, his voice falling. “Will I die?” I lock my eyes on his, asking the critical question. “No! Never. I would never hurt you,” he promises, so quickly it’s as if he’s afraid I’ll vanish on the spot. “Then I’ll do that.” I accept, my voice flat. Staying is the first step of the mission. Becoming his blood servant is the perfect cover. He seems genuinely thrilled. As he leads me back toward the manor, he can’t help but return to the topic of his beloved roses. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” “What?” “The flowers.” He lights up whenever he speaks of the Blood Hells. “So beautiful. Like the purest blood, covering the whole garden until there’s nothing left but red… an ocean of red…” He must have sensed my silence, because he turns, his gaze meeting my thinly veiled disdain. “Sorry. Humans probably don’t like to hear about things like that,” he says, cutting himself off. He leads me to a room in one of the upper wings of the house. I had no idea what being a “blood servant” actually entailed. Since the day I arrived, the golden-haired aristocrat has done nothing but drag me around the estate, either listening to him talk endlessly about his horrifying roses, or convincing me to skip his lessons with Silas to go sit and stare blankly at the garden with him. But there’s something strange about him. He watches me with an unnerving, fiery intensity. At first, I tried to ignore it. But as the days stretched into weeks, his staring grew more brazen. He can watch me in silence for what feels like hours. Yet, every time I meet his gaze, he snatches his eyes away, pretending he was looking at something else entirely. The Kindred gave me a reason to be here: to be his blood servant. But that’s not my real purpose. My purpose is to assassinate the master of the House of Fairchild. As I’m lost in thought, a sharp rap comes at my door. It’s late. The only person who would visit at this hour is the blond vampire himself. Setting aside the fact that he’s a blood-sucking monster, Emil is… interesting. But that doesn’t matter. Human and Kindred. We are two poles of a magnet that can never align. I pull the door open and find, not Emil, but his tutor, Silas. “You—” The older, more refined vampire presses a finger to his lips, silencing me with a look of pure disdain. He hands me a heavy, leather-bound book, turns on his heel, and walks away without another word. Baffled, I close the door and carry the book to my desk. In the lamplight, I see it’s a history of the Kindred, detailing their origins… and the precise rituals for creating a blood servant. A chill runs down my spine. Even now, after all this time, I find it impossible to see Emil as a true vampire, a monster I am sworn to kill. I close the book. A small, unassuming note flutters out from between the pages. The ink is faded, but the message is perfectly clear. [Becoming his blood servant is the only way you stay, human.] The old bastard is forcing my hand. He’s worried that Emil spends all his time with a human and hasn’t taken a single bite, but he’s also worried I’m a threat. Only by becoming a blood servant—bound by a magical contract never to betray or harm him—will he truly trust me. But if that contract is forged, I can never harm any vampire. The mission will be a catastrophic failure. It’s an impossible choice. As I’m caught in the dilemma, another knock sounds at the door. I assume it’s Silas, returning for some reason. But when I open it, I see Emil. He looks like he just came from the bath, his skin still damp, his blond hair not fully dry. “Cole? Did you need something from me?” I swear, for a split second, I saw something pure and unfiltered in his eyes: joy. A knot tightens in my throat. I change my planned words. “Uh, yeah. Can I come in?” “Of course.” He steps aside, letting me into his bedroom before closing the door behind us. The clean, warm scent of him envelops me as I pass, and a strange unease settles in my stomach. It’s only when I glimpse the open collar of his silk pajamas, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest, that the unease sharpens into an unfamiliar thirst, hot and dry in the back of my throat. He steps closer, and I have to force myself to turn away, holding out the book. “Your tutor gave this to me.” Emil takes it, his cheeks flushing as he flips through the pages. “Silas, he didn’t mean anything by it… it’s just because…” Silas. So that’s the old man’s name. “You’ve never had a blood servant before, have you?” I state the fact plainly, cutting off his excuses. He looks at me and nods, suddenly not knowing what to do with his hands. Seeing him like this, so innocent he’s almost clumsy, a thought flashes through my mind: maybe being bitten by him wouldn’t be so unbearable. Besides, it’s just a bite. Not the contract. A simple set of tooth marks would be enough to placate the suspicious old tutor, making the eventual assassination that much easier to carry out. With that thought, I stand up and walk to his bed, sitting on the edge of the lavish, ornate frame. Then, looking him straight in the eye, I pull open the collar of my shirt, exposing the strong, clean line of my neck. “Care to try?” “No, that’s not what I—” I cut him off, pressing him again, my voice a low murmur, like the serpent in the garden. “Do you want to bite me?”

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On the eve of our wedding, my fiancé, Carter Hayes, the newly minted CEO of his family’s empire, threw himself one last bachelor party. He came home staggering, soaked in the kind of expensive whiskey that clings to a man’s suit like a cheap promise. I was the one who peeled him out of the car, and his arms wrapped around me in the marble foyer, pulling me into a desperate, searing kiss. His breath was hot, thick with a boozy desire as he murmured into my hair, “Ava… God, I love you, Ava.” Then he collapsed into a dead sleep. The next morning, Ava Reed, his executive assistant, posted a cryptic message on her Instagram story: The deepest loves are the ones we must keep silent. I’m so happy you’ve found your person. Wishing you a lifetime of happiness. The comments under the blog posts announcing our wedding turned into a cesspool overnight. I was a homewrecker, a shrew who’d stolen a good man from his true love. The vitriol was biblical. My best friend, Chloe, who also happens to head my company’s PR department, was practically vibrating with anxiety. “Catherine, if this narrative takes hold, our stock is going to tank before the opening bell.” I took a slow sip of my coffee, the porcelain warm against my lips. “What’s the panic?” I said, my voice dangerously calm. “Release the security footage from the garage entrance.” I set the cup down. “And make sure you get a clean shot of his face. But blur hers. And zoom in on the logo of his suit jacket. He’s the only man in this city still wearing that season’s Tom Ford.” 1 Ten minutes after the clip went live, the internet broke. X, Instagram, Bloomberg, every screen in the financial district lit up with the same story. #HayesCheats: New Video Shows CEO Carter Hayes in Passionate Embrace with Assistant on Wedding Eve The Price of Love: Did Catherine Price’s Golden Boy Have a Last-Minute Change of Heart? Who is Ava Reed? The Secretary at the Center of the Hayes Corporation Scandal The three headlines went viral, painting the digital landscape a violent shade of red. The phones in my office suite began to shriek. Investors, board members, reporters—a chorus of hyenas demanding blood. My own assistant, Jenna, clutched her headset, her face pale. “Catherine,” she stammered, “Hayes Corp’s PR team, Carter’s grandmother… the entire board. They’re… they’re losing their minds.” I gave her a look that silenced her. She swallowed. “They want you to release a statement immediately. They’ve drafted it. They want you to say the photo is misleading, that his assistant felt faint from low blood sugar and Mr. Hayes was just helping her.” A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “A statement? Why in God’s name would I clean up their mess?” My voice dropped, turning to steel. “I am Carter Hayes’s wife. The one he left standing alone at our rehearsal dinner. And now I’m supposed to provide cover for him and his little C-suite Lolita?” “Jenna,” I asked, my eyes locking on hers. “Do I look like the kind of fool who would do that?” She shook her head, mute. The office door slammed open with a sound like a gunshot. Carter stood there, a mess of a man. His hair was disheveled, his suit from the night before was wrinkled, and his eyes were shot with blood. He threw his phone onto my desk. It skidded across the mahogany, the screen showing a nine-panel grid of crystal-clear screenshots from the video. The dim light of the parking garage. Carter’s suit jacket draped over Ava Reed’s shoulders. Her dress, artfully slipping down. His mouth, crushed against hers. “Catherine! Have you lost your mind?” he roared. “Ava was heartbroken over a recent breakup! I was driving her home, she started crying, and I was comforting her. Nothing happened!” I raised my eyes from the phone, my gaze so cold it could have frozen fire. “Nothing happened? Then why did you come home looking like you’d been wrestling in an alley?” I stood up, my voice dangerously low. “Nothing happened? Then why did you hold me, kiss me like your life depended on it, and whisper her name?” He choked on his words, his face flushing a deep, ugly red. “I was drunk!” he bellowed, falling back on the oldest excuse in the book. “What man doesn’t appreciate a beautiful young woman? It was instinct, for Christ’s sake! You’re going to blow everything up over a moment of instinct? Wreck the company’s stock, destroy Ava’s reputation?” He took a step closer, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re pathetic, Catherine. And you’re vicious.” I rose from my chair, the shattered screen of his phone cracking under my knuckles as I leaned on the desk. I walked around it, closing the distance between us until I could smell the stale liquor on his breath. “Vicious? Pathetic?” I laughed, a sharp, ugly sound. “Don’t be so quick to hand out labels, Carter. My little stunt is just God’s janitor taking out the trash. Compared to the toxic waste you and your little friend are spewing, I’m practically a recycling program.” I leaned in, my voice a whisper. “This isn’t an attack. This is self-defense.” “And let’s be clear about one more thing,” I said, my finger tapping his chest. “Don’t you dare hide behind ‘all men.’ The only man who wears his pathetic indiscretions like a badge of honor… is you.” His face contorted with rage, blood rushing to his head. He swung his hand back, ready to slap me across the face. I didn’t flinch. I leaned into it, a razor-thin smile on my lips. “Go ahead. Do it. Tomorrow’s headline will be even better: ‘Billionaire CEO Assaults Ailing Wife.’ Your little PR crisis will go nuclear. There won’t even be ashes left to bury.” His arm froze mid-air, then fell limply to his side, all the fight draining out of him. An hour later, his father arrived. William Hayes Sr., the founder of the empire, a man who had never bent to anyone, strode into my office flanked by two security guards. He stopped in the middle of the room, the click of his Italian leather shoes echoing off the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I’m here, so let’s not waste time with pleasantries,” he announced, his voice booming for everyone to hear. “Delete the posts. Call a press conference. Tell them the video was doctored, that it was all a misunderstanding. The Hayes family’s stock price will not be ruined by a marital spat.” I picked up my coffee cup, blowing gently on the surface. “Mr. Hayes, the only person ruining your company… is your son.” “He was the one who went sniffing around a bar on the eve of his wedding. The fact that I haven’t already filed for divorce is the only courtesy the Hayes family is getting from me.” He was silent for a beat, his eyes narrowing. “What do you want? Assets? Money? A five percent stake in the company? Name your price, Catherine.” I laughed softly and set my cup down. “I don’t want a thing.” “I want justice.” William Hayes scoffed. “Justice? In this city, Catherine, the Hayes family is justice. Don’t forget, your family’s company isn’t what it used to be. Without our backing, the wolves would have torn you apart by now.” He checked his Patek Philippe. “You have thirty minutes. If I don’t see a public apology in thirty minutes, I will pull every dime of Hayes support from every single one of your projects.” I stared out at the glittering Manhattan skyline, my finger tapping a light rhythm on the rim of my cup. “You know, your biggest mistake was thinking I was some delicate flower you could crush under your thumb.” My eyes met his. “I’m not a flower. I’m a knife.” After they left, Jenna returned, her arms full of printed-out emails, her hands shaking so badly the papers rattled. “Catherine, he meant it. The bankers for the Kensington merger just pulled out.” I put a steadying hand on her shoulder, my voice low and firm. “Don’t worry. The sky is getting darker, but it’s not falling. Not on us.” Thirty minutes passed. I posted nothing. But someone else did. Ava Reed started an Instagram Live. The title was four simple words. I can’t do this anymore. The video was shaky. She was standing on the very edge of the Hayes Tower rooftop, seventy-nine stories above the pavement. One foot was already over the side, the wind whipping her silk blouse around her like a shroud. Her eyes were red, her voice torn to shreds by the wind. “Carter… I’m so sorry… I can’t take it anymore…” The comment section exploded. OMG! SOMEONE CALL 911! SHE’S GOING TO JUMP! LOCATION IS HAYES TOWER! GET HELP! The next second, Ava let go of the railing. Her body tilted backward, falling into the abyss. The screen went black. The comments were just a blur of panic. DID SHE JUMP?! CATHERINE PRICE DROVE HER TO SUICIDE! Ten seconds later, the feed switched to a camera positioned outside the seventy-ninth-floor glass. It showed Ava landing safely in a discreetly placed stunt net. But the live feed had only captured the horrifying silhouette of her fall. The internet passed its final judgment. The hashtags trended worldwide. #BloodOnHerHandsCatherinePrice #JusticeForAva #MonsterCEO The narrative was set in stone: Catherine Price, the vindictive corporate monster, bullied a 26-year-old woman to her death. My phone rang. It was Carter, his voice trembling with a rage that was almost unhinged. “Catherine, you pushed her! She jumped because of you!” he screamed into the phone. “If one hair on her head is harmed, I will make you regret the day you were born! You enjoy this, don’t you? Hurting her? You’re a demon!” I let out a short, sharp laugh. “My God, Carter, do the two of you think the universe revolves around you? That the sun is your personal spotlight and the world turns according to your pathetic little script?” “She faints, and it’s my fault. She stages a fake suicide, and I’m the one who pushed her. So what does that make me? The villain you can pin everything on? I’m supposed to wear this crown of thorns you’ve welded to my head and thank you for the privilege?” “Go,” I said, my voice dripping with ice. “Go comfort her. I’m sure her fragile, delicate soul needs it.” I hung up. Moments later, the official press release from Hayes Corp hit the wires. [Effective immediately, Hayes Corporation has suspended all partnerships and joint ventures with Price Industries, citing a lack of confidence in the personal and ethical conduct of its CEO, Catherine Price.] It was a declaration of war. Within the hour, three of my largest institutional investors issued notices of asset freezes. Jenna stood in my doorway, holding a stack of white papers, her voice a hollow whisper. “It’s over. They’re launching a full-scale assault. They’re going to destroy us.” Overnight, I went from the city’s most celebrated new executive to a pariah. A final text from Carter came through. [I’m evicting you from the building. The locks will be changed in the morning. The divorce papers have been sent to your lawyer. Don’t make me call the police.] I looked at the message and actually laughed out loud. Evict me? This building, the crown jewel of the Hayes real estate portfolio, had been a wedding gift to me from my parents. The deed was ironclad. I texted back one word: [Try.] He must have lost his mind, because an hour later he was at my front door, two of his sycophantic VPs in tow, kicking the door like a common thug. “Catherine, get out! This is a Hayes property, and you are no longer welcome here! Get the hell out!” he bellowed, pointing a finger at my face. I was lounging on the sofa, swirling a glass of cabernet, and didn’t even bother to uncross my legs. “Carter, darling,” I said, my voice languid. “Has playing CEO addled your brain? Did you forget how basic property law works? Maybe you should take a closer look at the deed. The name on it is Catherine Price.” I took a sip of wine. “Rented? Sweetheart, this is my property. It has nothing to do with your family.” Carter froze, his face a kaleidoscope of confusion and fury. Clearly, Daddy had never filled him in on that little detail. Behind him, his precious little victim, the newly minted mistress, started her performance. Her eyes filled with tears, her voice a pathetic whisper. “Carter… don’t… don’t cause trouble for my sake. Ms. Price has never liked me. It’s all my fault. I’ll go.” Ugh. She was really committed to the damsel-in-distress act. Carter’s heart practically broke on cue. He turned back to me, his eyes blazing. “You wait, Catherine. You just wait. I will make you pay for this, tenfold. I will make sure you can’t even buy a cup of coffee in this city again!” I stood up, placing my glass on the table with a sharp click. “Fine,” I said. “I’ll be waiting.” “And a word of advice. Next time you plan a home invasion, do your homework. You wouldn’t want to look this foolish again.”

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In my last life, I took the fall for the Ashford family’s perfect daughter. Five years in a concrete cell was the price. The day I got out, my welcome home party was the news of her lavish birthday gala, followed by the Ashford family stripping me naked and leaving me to freeze to death in a blizzard. When I opened my eyes again, I was five years old. It was the day my biological parents, the Ashfords, were supposed to take me home. But this time, my brother, Caleb Ashford, burst out of the house and stood in the doorway like a sentinel, pointing a trembling finger at my ragged clothes. “Dad, Mom, don’t bring her home,” he pleaded, his voice cracking. “She will destroy this family!” Seeing the raw terror in his eyes—a look so different from the cold indifference of my past life—I knew instantly. He remembered, too. After my parents left, their faces etched with disappointment, Caleb walked over to me. He shoved a hard candy into my hand, his small fingers digging into my palm. His voice was a low, chilling whisper. “This family only needs one daughter. And her name is Sophie.” He leaned closer, his breath a cold puff in the air. “A curse like you should have died out here where you belong.” 1 My fingers clenched around the candy, the sharp edges pressing into my skin until my nails nearly broke the surface. He was right, wasn’t he? In his memory, my only purpose was to be the family’s designated disaster shield. The scapegoat to be sacrificed whenever his precious Sophie made a mistake. Now, with a second chance, he saw the future. He saw me as a stain on their pristine reputation. A piece of trash like me didn’t deserve a place in the Ashford home. A bitter laugh escaped my lips, but it was followed by a tear that slid, hot and traitorous, down my cheek. I scrubbed it away fiercely, my knuckles raw. The girl they called Amelia Ashford was dead. She froze to death in the snow. The person standing here now was someone else. I was just… me. I turned my back on the grand house and walked back to a forgotten corner of the St. Jude’s Home for Children. It wasn’t long before a black sedan, sleek and silent, pulled up to the curb. The director of the home, Mrs. Gable, led an elderly man inside. He was tall and elegant, with a shock of silver hair and a kind face, leaning on a dark wood cane. The home erupted. The other children swarmed him like sparrows, a cacophony of chirps and desperate pleas for attention. “Hello, Grandpa!” “Sir, I can sing for you!” “Look at my drawing, sir! Look!” I stayed in my corner, an unnoticed shadow, a silent observer of the spectacle. But he noticed me. His eyes found mine across the chaotic room. He gently parted the sea of children and, with a steady rhythm from his cane, made his way toward me. “Little one,” he said, his voice warm and deep. “Why are you all alone over here? Don’t they like you?” I shook my head. I looked up at his face, into eyes that held a universe of wisdom, and offered him the candy. It was warm and slightly sticky from my clenched fist. “For you, sir,” I said, my voice steady, aiming for a calmness that no five-year-old should possess. He paused, a flicker of surprise in his expression. He took the candy, unwrapped the crinkling cellophane, and popped it into his mouth. A genuine, pleased smile spread across his face. “Mm. That’s very sweet.” He looked at me, really looked at me, for a long moment. “What’s your name?” “Mrs. Gable calls me Claire.” “Claire,” he repeated softly, nodding to himself. “Would you like to come home with me, Claire? Would you like to be my granddaughter?” The room fell silent. Every child’s head snapped in my direction, their eyes burning with envy. I didn’t hesitate. I gave a single, firm nod. “Yes.” A booming, heartfelt laugh filled the room. “Excellent! Wonderful! From this day forward, your name is Claire Sterling.” He took my hand. His was warm and dry, a safe harbor. “Sterling means of the highest quality. A person of integrity,” he said, his voice taking on a new gravity. “My child, I want you to grow into a woman who champions justice.” I understood the weight of his words, the promise they held. This was Marcus Sterling, a retired Supreme Court Justice, a living legend in the world of law. In that moment, I gripped his hand tighter. I became the cherished granddaughter of the Sterling family. Justice Sterling treated me like a precious gem. He personally taught me legal theory and logical reasoning, took me to sit in on court proceedings, and opened my eyes to a world of intellect and purpose. My new aunts and uncles, all brilliant lawyers, were busy but always brought me legal textbooks and case studies from their travels, their affection genuine. But the one who loved me most was my brother, Leo, who was ten years older than me. The first time he met me, he took off his gold-rimmed glasses, and his handsome, serious face broke into a gentle smile. “This is the littlest Sterling,” he declared to the world. “Nobody messes with her. Ever.” Wrapped in that kind of love, the wounds of my past life began to scar over. I poured myself into my studies. From law school to the bar exam, I was always number one. My room filled with trophies from mock trial championships and debate competitions. Twenty years later, I became one of the youngest and most formidable Assistant District Attorneys in the city. 2 Life was calm, full, and meaningful. I truly believed the Ashfords were a nightmare I had left behind forever. Until the day my paralegal, Sarah, knocked on my office door. “Claire? There’s a Mr. Caleb Ashford here to see you. He’s asking for you by name.” She glanced at her notepad. “Says he wants to retain you for a major corporate fraud case involving his company.” The name was a punch to the gut. My heart seized, a painful, involuntary spasm. I took a deep, steadying breath, pushing the emotion down until my voice was flat and professional. “Send him in.” A man in a perfectly tailored suit walked in. He was tall, with the same sharp jawline I remembered, but the boyishness was gone, replaced by a deep, handsome intensity. The moment Caleb Ashford saw me, he froze. His dark eyes widened with pure, unadulterated shock. He couldn’t have imagined, not in a million years, that the star prosecutor he was desperately trying to hire was the little girl he’d thrown away two decades ago. It took him a long moment to find his voice, and when he did, it was laced with disbelief. “You… you’re Claire Sterling? The Claire Sterling?” I nodded coolly. “Mr. Ashford. Please, have a seat. Though I believe there’s been a misunderstanding. I work for the District Attorney’s office. I don’t take on private clients.” He ignored my words, his gaze sweeping over me, scrutinizing, suspicious. “You’re really an attorney? How good are you? What are the odds you can win this for us?” His tone was so condescending, it was as if he expected me to be an imposter, a fraud who had stolen a name. Sarah, standing by the door, bristled. “Sir, Ms. Sterling is one of the most respected prosecutors in the state. Her time is extremely valuable—” I looked at Caleb, the corner of my mouth twitching into a ghost of a smile. “It seems you have reservations about my professional capabilities, Mr. Ashford.” I leaned back in my chair. “In that case, I believe this meeting is over.” I looked at my paralegal. “Sarah, show our guest out.” Caleb’s face darkened. He clenched his jaw, but in the end, he said nothing. He just turned on his heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Sarah threw her hands up in exasperation. “Claire, that guy has some nerve! Who does he think he is?” I gave a casual shrug, a small, genuine smile finally reaching my lips. “Don’t worry about it. Just a potential defendant who doesn’t know his place.” To me, it was nothing more than a minor, if bizarre, interruption. Later that evening, as I was leaving the courthouse, Caleb appeared out of the shadows of the main entrance, blocking my path. His expression was a dark, complicated storm. My brow furrowed instantly. “Can I help you?” He stared at me, a long, unnerving silence stretching between us before he finally bit out the words. “Amelia. I’m warning you.” The sound of my old name made my stomach turn. Twenty years ago, he was the one who refused to let me have that name, and now he was spitting it at me like an accusation. He continued, his voice low and threatening. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you will not use this case to hurt Sophie.” I almost laughed. He shows up on my doorstep begging for help, then has the audacity to warn me not to harm his precious sister? On what planet did he think I’d waste a second of my life on either of them? I looked at him like he was a raving lunatic. “My name is Claire Sterling, Mr. Ashford. You’d do well to remember that.” My voice was ice. “And for the record, I don’t know you. And I certainly don’t know your sister.” “As a prosecutor, my duty is to the law, not to frame innocent people. Why on earth would I want to harm a complete stranger?” Caleb stared, a flicker of genuine confusion crossing his face. “You… you don’t remember me?” He seemed fundamentally unable to process this. His voice rose, incredulous. “Twenty years ago! At the St. Jude’s home! I was the one who stopped them from—” He cut himself off, the words catching in his throat. Even he seemed to realize how monstrous his next words would have sounded. I looked at his flustered, guilty face, feeling nothing but a profound sense of disgust and pity. Of course I remembered. I remembered every contemptuous glare, every venomous word. I remembered the way he physically shoved me away, single-handedly obliterating every childhood fantasy I ever had about family. But I would give him nothing. I tilted my head, putting on a show of deep concentration. Then, my face broke into a look of slow, dawning realization. “Ohhhh,” I drew the sound out. “Now I remember.” I looked him straight in the eye, my expression a perfect mask of polite innocence. “I’m so sorry. It was twenty years ago, you understand. It’s all a bit of a blur. With all the important case files I have to review every day, I’m afraid I don’t have much space left for… trivial matters.” 3 Caleb’s face went rigid. Trivial matters? For him, it was a life-altering decision. For me, I had just dismissed it as insignificant clutter. It was a deeper cut than any insult I could have hurled. He gritted his teeth, refusing to let it go. “Stop playing games! You’re just holding a grudge because I stopped my parents from adopting you, and now you’re looking for revenge against me and my sister!” This time, I did laugh. A short, sharp, humorless sound. “Mr. Ashford, are you always this narcissistic?” My smile vanished, and my eyes turned to steel. “Revenge? On you? Do you honestly think you’re that important?” I took a step closer. “If anything, I should be thanking you. If you hadn’t been so adamant about casting me out, would I ever have been found by Justice Marcus Sterling? Would I have the life I have now?” My voice was light, conversational, but every word was a precisely aimed dart. “So, you see, I’m far too grateful to ever hate you.” He was speechless, his face a mottled canvas of red and white. “Marcus Sterling? Don’t be ridiculous!” he finally sputtered, latching onto what he thought was a lie. “You think sharing a last name makes you his family? Stop dreaming! Someone like you could never step foot in the Sterling house!” As the last word left his mouth, a black Bentley glided to a silent stop beside us. The back door opened, and a tall, impeccably dressed man emerged. Leo. He walked straight to my side, draping his suit jacket over my shoulders with a familiar, easy gesture. He didn’t even glance at Caleb, his focus entirely on me as he gently brushed a strand of hair from my face. “Claire, what’s taking you so long? Grandpa’s getting impatient.” Only then did his gaze fall on Caleb, his expression coolly indifferent. “Sister, who’s this?” I looped my arm through Leo’s, my smile bright and genuine. “No one, big brother. Just a man asking for legal advice. We were just finishing up.” Caleb was frozen to the spot. He stared, dumbfounded, at the casual intimacy between us, then at the car that screamed of old money and influence. He wasn’t an idiot. He knew who Leo Sterling was—the founder of Sterling & Croft, one of the most powerful law firms in the country. And he knew the rumors: that Leo Sterling had a younger sister the entire family doted on. He just never, in his wildest nightmares, imagined that sister could be me. I saw the flicker in his eyes, the image that must have flashed through his mind: the ghost of a girl in a prison jumpsuit, staring at him with dead eyes through plexiglass. And now, here I was, smiling, vibrant, holding onto the arm of another man and calling him brother. While he was still reeling, I was already sliding into the plush leather of Leo’s car. The next day, Sarah informed me that Caleb Ashford had pulled every string he could, petitioning to have his company’s fraud case transferred to my jurisdiction at the D.A.’s office, specifically requesting my involvement as the lead prosecutor. Sarah sorted through the documents on my desk, shaking her head. “Is this guy for real, Claire? One day he’s acting like you’re a hack, the next he’s practically begging for you. I bet he found out who you are and now he’s trying to kiss up.” I just smiled, saying nothing. I signed my name on the case transfer request. Let’s see what game he was trying to play. 4 At three o’clock that afternoon, the Ashford family—Caleb, his parents, and Sophie—appeared in my office. This time, they were here as the family of a suspect under investigation. Twenty years hadn’t changed Sophie much. She was still meticulously put together, radiating a fragile, helpless innocence that made you want to protect her. Caleb’s demeanor was a complete one-eighty from our last encounter. He was deferential, almost timid. “Ms. Sterling, I was out of line the other day. I apologize.” Richard and Helen Ashford stood awkwardly behind him, their gazes filled with a complex cocktail of guilt and curiosity. I ignored them, my eyes landing directly on Sophie. “The suspect can stay. The rest of you can wait outside.” The heavy office door clicked shut, sealing us in. The room was now just me and Sophie. Instantly, the mask of frail vulnerability fell from her face, vanishing without a trace. It was replaced by a look of pure, undisguised venom. Her eyes raked over me, my suit, my office, a mocking smile playing on her lips. “Amelia. Oh, sorry, I guess I have to call you Claire now.” Her voice was saccharine sweet, but laced with poison. “I have to hand it to you. You’re a survivor. Kicked out by our family and you still managed to latch onto the Sterlings. You’re quite the social climber.” I watched her, my expression placid. She was a clown, and I was the unimpressed audience. “Sophie Ashford, this is a formal interrogation. I suggest you remember where you are.” My coldness seemed to fuel her fire. She leaned back in her chair, her tone becoming even more acidic. “What, you think being a prosecutor makes you special? You still have to sit there and watch me live a better life than you, don’t you?” She smirked. “Let me tell you something. Even if you’re a Sterling now, it doesn’t matter. In my brother’s heart, you’ll never be worth a single strand of my hair.” “The only reason he’s even talking to you is because he didn’t know who you were. So don’t get any ideas. You were born to be beneath my feet, and that’s where you’ll always stay.” In our past life, she was exactly the same. A master of the two-faced performance. The sweet, perfect sister in front of our parents and Caleb; a vicious, cruel tormentor in private. She was the one who hit someone with her car, then tearfully begged me to take the blame, swearing she would be indebted to me for life. The moment I was behind bars, she was off touring the world with her rich friends, forgetting I ever existed. And I could never defend myself. Every time I tried, it only earned me deeper disgust from Caleb and utter abandonment from my parents. But none of that mattered anymore. In this life, I was immune to her pathetic games. I conducted the interview by the book, a two-hour-long interrogation where every question was a scalpel, aimed at the heart of the case. She thought she was clever, denying every key point, even trying to accuse me of abusing my power to settle a personal vendetta. I watched her shoddy performance, my own expression growing colder and harder. I could feel the old anger rising, a familiar beast in my chest, and I suppressed it, giving her a single, sharp glare. She flinched, a flicker of fear in her eyes. When it was over, I had her sign the official transcript. Then, my face a grim mask, I walked out of the office without another word. The three Ashfords were pacing anxiously in the hallway. Caleb rushed forward the moment he saw me. “Ms. Sterling, Sophie… how did it go?” Helen Ashford grabbed my arm, her eyes red-rimmed. “Ms. Sterling, please, my daughter is innocent! This has to be a misunderstanding!” I looked past her, directly at Caleb, my face devoid of all emotion. “Your sister’s case is open-and-shut,” I announced, my voice carrying down the hall. “The evidence is conclusive. We’ll be filing formal charges shortly.” The air went still. Even Sarah stared at me, her mouth slightly agape. I had never, ever made such a swift, definitive statement about a case. It went against my entire professional ethos. The color drained from Richard and Helen’s faces. Helen’s knees buckled, and she nearly collapsed. “No… how can that be? Sophie would never…” Caleb’s expression immediately hardened into a sneer. “That’s impossible! Sophie swore to me she was innocent! You have no proof!” His voice rose to a shout. “You’re framing her! This is your revenge!” Right on cue, the office door opened and Sophie emerged. She heard my declaration, and a flicker of triumph crossed her face before she expertly crumpled, sobbing, into Caleb’s arms. “It’s okay, Caleb… I knew she would do this to me. It’s not her fault…” I stared coldly at their family drama, and then I delivered the final blow. “She is guilty because your precious daughter just gave a full confession.”

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Every time we fought, Evan would take out his hearing aids. He wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t look at me, wouldn’t speak. Just a wall of impenetrable silence. Cold war. Our friends would always try to smooth it over. “He’s just so fragile, Clara. You have to be the one to be more patient.” “I mean, think about it. His world is so small. He only has you.” And I believed them. I was the one who always compromised, always folded, always begged for peace. Until I saw him with Chloe. She was his junior from grad school, also deaf since birth. I watched him coax her, make her laugh, and apologize first when they bickered. Seeing how well he knew how to love someone else was like a splash of ice water to the face. An epiphany. That night, I told him I wanted a divorce. In response, Evan’s face went cold as he reached up and pulled out his hearing aids. He didn’t hear me. The next morning, he opened the bedroom door with that same old air of condescending authority. “Alright, Clara, you can come in. I forgive you.” But this time, there were no grateful tears from me. The apartment was empty, hollow. The only thing that answered him was a piece of paper I’d taped to the door, fluttering in the draft from an open window. Evan, your world is small. But mine is still so big. I won’t be walking the rest of the way with you. 1 The moment I pushed open the door to the party, the room went quiet. Some people shot me nervous glances; others couldn’t meet my eyes at all. Because Evan was busy comforting a girl. The girl, Chloe, was deaf, just like him. She wore a pair of pale pink hearing aids. Right now, though, she had them out, her hands clamped over her ears, face crumpled on the verge of tears, refusing to listen to a word he said. Evan saw me. His eyes flickered toward me for a single, dismissive second before returning to her. He unwrapped a small cupcake from a paper box, his voice a low, patient murmur as he tried to coax her. It was the first time I’d ever seen Evan like this—soothing, gentle. Because of his deafness from a young age, his temper was a twisted, volatile thing. He was impossibly fragile, painfully sensitive. In the seven years we’d been together, that kind of tender, placating behavior was something reserved exclusively for me to perform for him. I stood frozen by the door. The girl seemed to sense the shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and her eyes locked with mine. The tears that had been welling up finally spilled over, streaming down her cheeks. She shoved Evan away and ran out of the room. Without a moment’s hesitation, Evan was on his feet, chasing after her. He paused for a fraction of a second as he passed me, finally granting me a proper look. “Chloe’s deaf, and she doesn’t know anyone here in Boston,” he said, his voice clipped. “I’ll find her, make sure she’s safe, and then I’ll come home.” I said nothing. Evan was clearly agitated. “Clara, she could get hurt running off like that.” He frowned, reaching out to push me aside. “Be reasonable. If you want to start a fight, pick a better time.” I stumbled, my back hitting the wall. Evan didn’t even notice. He was already gone, his long strides carrying him down the hall and into the elevator without a single glance back. 2 The silence in the room was thick and suffocating. Finally, one of our friends stepped in to play peacemaker, just like always. “Clara, Chloe is just a student from his old department. They’re both deaf, so Evan feels like he needs to look out for her. It’s a big brother thing.” “Seriously, don’t get the wrong idea,” another one chimed in, nudging others to agree. “We can all vouch for him. He just sees her as a kid sister.” The room came back to life with a chorus of reassurances. “Yeah, we see it all the time.” “He just feels bad for her, a young girl coming all the way to Boston for school by herself.” “He’s just trying to help her out.” They talked and talked, trying to paint it as nothing, a trivial little moment. But all I could see was the image of Evan with her. The clumsy way he’d opened the little cupcake box. The care he took to hand her the tiny fork. When she’d pulled out her hearing aids in a huff, he knew she couldn’t hear him, but he kept speaking to her anyway, his voice soft and patient, trying to soothe her with the sheer force of his calm. I wondered if Evan even realized. Everything he had just done for Chloe… was exactly what I had done for him, countless times, for seven years. Every time we argued, he would pull out his hearing aids, his face a blank mask. He’d lock himself in our bedroom for the entire night. No listening, no talking, just silence. A war of attrition. His friends would always say to me: “Clara, you know how he is. He’s so fragile, so sensitive. He needs more patience, more unconditional love than most people.” “His world is so small, and in all these years, you’re the only one he’s ever let in.” “He really does love you. He just doesn’t know how to love.” And I believed them. So every time he locked himself away, I would sit outside that door all night long. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but I’d fight off sleep and, every so often, I’d tap lightly on the wood. What if he puts them back in just for a second? I’d think. What if he happens to hear me knocking? Then he’ll know I’m still out here, waiting for him. And maybe… maybe he won’t be angry anymore. But now, watching him, seeing how perfectly capable he was of loving someone… it was like a switch had flipped. Maybe he had never loved me. Or maybe he had, for a fleeting moment in our youth. Or maybe it was just that for all these years, I was the only one with enough patience to tolerate him. The only one willing to shrink my own world to fit inside his tiny, suffocating one. 3 I managed a small, tight smile. Just like I had a thousand times before. “I know,” I said softly to the anxious faces watching me. “I’ll just… I’ll go home and wait for him.” A collective sigh of relief seemed to pass through the room. Evan’s friends smiled, their warmth returning as they walked me to the elevator. As the doors were closing, I heard one of them on the phone. “She’s not mad, don’t worry about it.” A pause. “Dude, you’ve known her for years. You could burn down the city and she’d just smile and say you did a great job.” The doors slid shut, cutting off the voice. I looked up and saw my reflection in the polished steel. My face was pale, and the dress I was wearing suddenly looked drab and gray. The only spot of color on me was the wedding ring on my finger. There was a time when I used to shine, seated at a grand piano on a stage. After I married Evan, I became his assistant, his housekeeper, his secretary. My piano sat in the attic, gathering dust. My fingers, I realized, didn’t feel so nimble anymore. 4 Evan came home very late that night. He did what he always did, shrugging off his jacket and tie and holding them out for me to take. This time, I didn’t move. I stood under the living room light and saw it: a few tiny, pink rhinestones stuck to his black hearing aid. The same color as Chloe’s. He clutched the tie in his fist, his brow furrowing slightly—the first sign of his displeasure. Still, I didn’t step forward. His patience finally snapped. He tossed the clothes onto the sofa and fixed his gaze on me. “Clara. Are you throwing a tantrum?” I shook my head. I wasn’t throwing a tantrum. If I were screaming, crying, making a scene—that would mean I still cared. That would mean, deep down, I had no intention of actually leaving. “Chloe got hurt,” he said flatly. “She wasn’t wearing her aids and didn’t hear a car horn.” He raised a hand and adjusted his glasses. He had beautiful hands, long and elegant. It felt like a lifetime ago, but I used to be hopelessly in love with every part of him. “She’s all alone here. I can’t just ignore that. Clara, surely you’re not that devoid of empathy.” His brow was tight, his handsome face etched with a mix of exhaustion and irritation. He was never a man of many words, so this much of an explanation felt like a grand concession. A laugh escaped me, small and bitter. “What if it were me?” His eyes narrowed. “I have male friends from my conservatory days,” I continued. “What if I treated them the way you treated Chloe today?” Evan’s expression turned to ice. “Clara.” A cruel, mocking smile twisted his lips. “So that’s it. You’re regretting it. Regretting marrying a cripple like me. Missing out on all your ‘good friends’ from the conservatory?” My heart felt like burnt incense, collapsing into a pile of ash and scattering into nothing. It’s over, Clara. Just let it be over. I opened my mouth to tell him to wait, that I was going to get the divorce papers I’d already drawn up. But he had already turned his back on me, walking toward the bedroom. I watched him go. Even the line of his back seemed to radiate a cold distance. It felt like I’d spent years of my life just looking at his back. Before, it would have filled me with a familiar ache of sadness. Now, all I felt was a dull emptiness. “Evan.” I said his name, my voice soft. He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, and looked back over his shoulder. “Let’s get a divorce.” In the exact instant the words left my lips, he raised his hand and took out his hearing aid. Just like he had a thousand times before whenever there was a conflict, a disagreement. So he didn’t hear me. His eyes were cold. He gave me one last, freezing look, then turned away and went into the room. A soft click. Infinitely familiar. Evan had locked the door. 5 I stood there for a moment, but I didn’t linger. I walked to the entryway, slipped off my house slippers, and put on my shoes. My packed suitcase was sitting right there. Evan hadn’t seen it. Or maybe he had. And just hadn’t cared. I placed the signed divorce agreement on the console table by the door. As I pulled my suitcase behind me and stepped out of the apartment, I took a deep breath. And I felt, for the first time in a long time, incredibly light. I didn’t look back. I knew I never would. On the way to my old pre-marriage apartment, I saw a new post on Chloe’s Instagram feed. A picture of her pink hearing aid resting next to a black one. They looked like two small, kindred things, huddled together. The caption read: Only someone who has walked through the same storm can understand your deepest pain. And right below it, a single ‘like’ from Evan. My hand trembled. My vision blurred for a second. So many people had told me, so many times, “Clara, you saved him.” “You’re the only one who can understand his pain, his frustration.” “We’re his friends, and even we can’t imagine what would have happened to Evan if you hadn’t come along.” He had been so angry, so isolated. His social skills were a disaster. It had almost cost him his academic career. I used to believe I truly understood him. I used to believe, ridiculously, that I had redeemed him. But in that one moment, that one ‘like’ on Instagram turned the last seven years of my life into a joke. Of course. He and Chloe were the same. They had lost their hearing as children. They understood each other’s pain in a way I never could. And me? I was just the healthy girl with a perfectly sound body and mind who had insisted on inserting herself into someone else’s tragedy. I’d let my own life become a complete mess in the process. I scrolled past her post. I blocked Evan. And I blocked everyone in his orbit. His world really was small. So small it was suffocating. So I was leaving. 6 At four in the morning, Evan woke up. He got up for a glass of water, glanced at his watch, and then, on a strange impulse, put his hearing aids back in. He lay back down, closing his eyes, and waited. If things went as they always did, it wouldn’t be long now. A soft knock would come at the door. Just three taps. So quiet that if you weren’t listening for them, you’d miss them completely. It was Clara’s favorite little game. She thought he had no idea. But he’d known from the very beginning. He just never let on. For three years, he had savored this ritual. It filled him with a deep, reassuring sense of being loved by her. He lay in bed, counting silently in his head. A small smile played on his lips. Any second now. He held his breath, listening. He could hear his own heartbeat in the silent room. But he did not hear the soft, familiar knock on the door. 7 His eyes snapped open. He stared at the closed door in the dim, pre-dawn light. Did she fall asleep? It had happened before. She would cry so hard that she’d exhaust herself and fall asleep right there in the hallway. He’d open the door in the morning to find her curled up against it, sleeping soundly. It was their unspoken truce. Once the night was over, everything was forgiven. They would go back to how they were. He tried to close his eyes, to go back to sleep, but a strange unease prickled at him. After tossing and turning, he finally gave in, throwing back the covers. He didn’t even realize his own haste as he strode to the door and pulled it open. “Alright, Clara, you can come in. I forgive you.” But the hallway was empty, bathed in the cool, sterile light of dawn. The small, sleeping figure he expected to find slumped against his door wasn’t there. Evan felt his heart leap into his throat. He walked out, pushing open the door to every room. They were all empty, cold. The kitchen, the bathroom. Every corner. No sign of Clara. Finally, his eyes landed on the entryway. He saw her slippers. Her pink bunny slippers. He walked toward them slowly, his mind a jumble of thoughts. She put on her shoes, so she must have gone out. The farmer’s market? She’s always going on about buying fresh produce. His heart began to settle. Yes, that had to be it. Clara was always so worried about his health. Whenever she was home, she cooked every meal for him. But then he saw the note taped to the front door. A breeze from somewhere made it flutter. He let out a huge sigh of relief, a smile touching his lips. It must be a note from her, telling him she went out to buy groceries and would be back soon. Thinking this, he reached out and plucked the note from the door. The handwriting was hers. But the words were not at all what he expected. Evan, your world is small. But mine is still so big. Sorry, but I won’t be walking the rest of the way with you. The paper slipped from his fingers, drifting to the floor. Evan stared at it, bewildered. What did she mean by that? Not walking the rest of the way with you? He turned, flustered, to go find his phone, but his eyes caught something on the console table. A document. The words “Divorce Agreement,” in bold black letters, seared themselves into his vision. Evan stood frozen for a full minute, as if he’d forgotten how to read. How could it be a divorce agreement? Clara wouldn’t file for divorce. How could she dare to file for divorce? She had proposed to him seven times before he finally said yes. How could she possibly have the nerve to bring up divorce now? 8 Of course. She wouldn’t. She didn’t have it in her. He knew better than anyone how much Clara had loved him. Evan slowly composed himself. He didn’t even bother to open the thin stack of papers. He simply picked them up, tore them in half, and dropped them into the trash can, along with the note from the floor. If she wanted to throw a tantrum, fine. Let her. She’d come back on her own when she was done. It wasn’t the first time she’d stormed out. Once before, he’d simply had a friend mention to her that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in two days. She was back before dinner. But what surprised Evan was that three full days passed without a single word from Clara. She didn’t come home. There were no calls, no texts. It was as if she had truly vanished. He even posted a picture on his Instagram story on purpose: an ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts next to an empty bottle of whiskey. She’s a hawk about smoking and drinking, he thought. If she sees this, she won’t be able to stand it for a second. And when she came storming back to lecture him, he’d make sure she understood just how he was going to punish her for disappearing for three days. 9 When Evan posted that story, I was having dinner with my friend Maya. We were discussing the division of assets for the divorce. I’d been a homemaker after we got married, fully supporting Evan’s career. He’d made a good amount of money in the last few years, and half of it was legally mine. I had blocked Evan, so I knew nothing about his post. Maya saw it on her phone and looked at me, a hesitant expression on her face. “What is it?” I asked. “Evan just posted something.” She held her phone out to me. “Do you… want to see?” “Whatever he posts has nothing to do with me.” I started to wave it away. But Maya was insistent. “Clara, don’t run from it. I need to be sure you’re serious about this divorce, that this isn’t just some fight you’re going to regret in three days.” “I won’t regret it.” “Good. Then look. Prove to me that you won’t feel sorry for him, that you won’t go soft. The last thing I need is to go into battle for you, only for you to turn around and get back together with him.” I looked at Maya’s exasperated face and felt a pang of guilt. She had spent years telling me I deserved better than Evan. My sudden decision to leave was, understandably, something she was still skeptical about. “Fine, I’ll look.” I took the phone. I saw the picture. Maya watched my face like a hawk. I felt a flicker of surprise, and then… nothing. I calmly handed the phone back to her. “Okay, I’ve seen it.” “You’re not sad? Not angry?” All our friends knew that while I let Evan get away with almost anything, smoking and drinking were the two things I absolutely forbade. I shrugged, mimicking a gesture Maya often made. “Is it any of my business? He’s my soon-to-be ex-husband.” Maya narrowed her eyes and pressed the back of her hand to my forehead. “You don’t have a fever.” “Maya, I’m serious,” I said, taking her hand. “I want a divorce. I am divorcing Evan. And I am going to start playing the piano again. I’m going to play all the way to Vienna.” “Clara!” Maya threw her arms around me, her own eyes turning red. “Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming of this day? I didn’t think it would ever actually happen.” I hugged her back tightly, a tear finally escaping and rolling down my cheek. “It’s okay,” I whispered. “I’m only twenty-six. There’s still time to cut my losses and start over.” 10 Maya had to leave for an emergency at her law firm. I stayed and ordered another glass of wine. By the time I left, I was pleasantly buzzed. I walked out of the restaurant and an elevator dinged open. A loud, laughing group of people stepped out. Leading the pack were Evan and Chloe. They were standing side-by-side, looking for all the world like a perfect couple. The moment they saw me, the laughter died. Evan’s eyes lit up for a split second when he saw me. Then he arched an eyebrow, a faint, smug smile spreading across his face. “Well, look who it is. Following me, Clara?” Before I could answer, Chloe sniffed and turned her head away. “Some people just don’t know when to quit.” “Hey, hey, what did I say?” one of the friends muttered, nudging her. Evan just chuckled and flicked Chloe’s forehead lightly. “Be nice.” Then his gaze drifted back to me. “You should at least call her by her name.” Chloe stomped her foot. “Evan!” She looked utterly betrayed, her eyes instantly welling up. “You know… you know perfectly well…” Her words trailed off, but the implication was clear. “Know what? You girls and your complicated feelings are a mystery to me,” Evan said with a light laugh. A tear slid down Chloe’s cheek. “Evan, you’re being mean to me again.” She was in love with him. The whole world knew it. Evan knew it, too. But he pretended not to. He just basked in the warmth of a young girl’s adoration. I was completely done with this soap opera. I turned to walk toward the other elevator bank. But I only made it two steps before Evan’s hand clamped around my arm. “Clara. Perfect timing.” I tried to shake him off, but his grip tightened. I winced. “Evan, let go. You’re hurting me.” “Hurting you?” he scoffed. “What about the injuries Chloe sustained?” “What does her getting hurt have to do with me?” I was baffled, and frankly, disgusted. Was he really going to try to pin Chloe’s accident on me? “It has everything to do with you,” Evan said, his eyes fixed on mine. “The driver who hit her was Alex’s former assistant. Don’t tell me that’s just a coincidence, Clara.” “Alex? My old mentor from the conservatory?” Evan sneered. “Yes, that Alex. The one who’s been pathetically pinning after you for years, the one who won’t date anyone else because of you. Are you going to tell me he didn’t orchestrate this whole thing just to get back at her for you?” 11 I stared at Evan, so stunned by the absurdity of his accusation that I actually laughed. Had his academic work turned his brain to mush? Or had that bottle of whiskey fried his last few brain cells? Alex was one of the top lawyers in the city. He was so busy he was constantly flying all over the world. The idea of him stooping to such a childish, petty act was ludicrous. “Besides,” Evan continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “he’s in love with you, so of course he’d do anything for you. But Chloe is innocent in all this. Whatever mistakes she might have made, she didn’t deserve this.” His gaze dropped to my left hand. My ring finger was bare. I had taken off my wedding ring. I wasn’t stupid enough to throw away a three-carat diamond, but I wasn’t wearing it, either. His eyes darkened. “Let’s do this, Clara,” he said, his tone shifting to one of magnanimous authority. “Alex is your friend. He did this for you. The least you can do is apologize to Chloe.” He held my wrist tightly, looking down at me. “You apologize, and we can put this all behind us. I’ll make sure Chloe doesn’t press charges.” Chloe sniffed, turning her nose up. “Well, I was going to press charges. Intentional injury is a serious crime.” She looked at me reluctantly. “Clara. I’m only accepting your apology for Evan’s sake. So you’d better make it sound like you mean it.”

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My mother hated me, but she treated my cousin like she was a precious gem. My childhood was a blur of chores and punishments for the slightest mistake, while my cousin wore princess dresses, played the piano, and was doted on by my aunt and uncle. Then came the night of my cousin’s birthday. My mother, drunk on wine and bitterness, confessed the truth: she had switched us at birth. I wasn’t her daughter. I belonged to my aunt. Ecstatic, my heart soaring with hope, I ran to my aunt with the news. But she just met my story with an icy smile. “You think I didn’t know?” she said. “But I don’t want you. You will never be my daughter.” It was like a bucket of ice water being poured over my soul. I couldn’t understand why I was the child no one wanted. From that day forward, I stopped begging for scraps of love. Years later, when I earned my acceptance to Yale and slapped two DNA reports down on the table in front of them, they both finally panicked. 1 “Leah, where the hell are you? Did you forget your cousin’s birthday?” The voice on the phone was a lit match. I flinched, snapping my textbook shut and hiding it in the kitchen cabinet where I slept. A second later, the sliding door to the back patio rattled open and my mother, Sharon, filled the frame. Seeing me standing there, small and silent, a look of pure disgust soured her face. “Look at you, pathetic. Nothing like your cousin. What are you doing hiding in here? Let’s go. Now.” I scurried to follow her. When I wasn’t fast enough, she grabbed my arm and yanked, so hard I nearly tripped over my own feet. My mother didn’t love me. I’d known this my whole life. My aunt, Carol, once explained it was because my father had been a deadbeat who’d walked out on us. That was the story, anyway. A ghost I was being punished for. So I tried to be perfect. I tiptoed through the house. I got straight A’s, once holding up a test with a perfect 100 printed in red at the top. She’d ripped it in half and thrown the pieces at my face. “You could study for a thousand years,” she’d snarled, “and you’d still never be half the girl your cousin is.” I’d choked back tears and just studied harder, determined to prove her wrong. I wasn’t worse. I wasn’t less than Chloe. But then she took my pencils and notebooks and replaced them with a broom and a bottle of Windex. “If you have so much free time, you can make yourself useful. This house better be spotless from now on. And you’re going to learn to cook. I’m not feeding a freeloader.” And just like that, the one path I had to prove myself was barricaded. Maybe she was right. Maybe a child born unloved can never compete with one who is cherished. Arriving at my aunt’s house drove the point home. Chloe was holding court in a beautiful pink dress and a little rhinestone tiara, surrounded by a crowd of equally well-dressed friends, ready to cut into a massive cake. I hesitated at the door, scared to even take off my shoes. My socks had holes in them. The sole of my left sneaker was loose; one wrong move and it might flap open like a mouth. Seeing me linger, my mother’s patience snapped. She muttered something about me being an embarrassment and shoved a pair of men’s oversized flip-flops at my feet before plastering a brilliant smile on her face and presenting her gift to Chloe. “For you, sweetie. I know you wanted this one.” It was a delicate crystal necklace, the pendant shaped like a swan. On Chloe, it looked magnificent. She looked like a real princess. A pang of envy, sharp and bitter, shot through me. We shared a birthday, Chloe and I, but I’d never gotten a gift, let alone something so beautiful. “Thank you, Aunt Sharon!” Chloe chirped, and my mother’s face lit up. “Anything for my brilliant, wonderful girl,” she said, then shot a look in my direction. “Not like that one. Barely speaks. Might as well be a ghost.” I stared at my reflection in the polished hardwood floor, a skinny, hunched-over shadow. A rat spying on a feast. Some of Chloe’s friends were looking at me, whispering. One asked Chloe how old I was, if I was in elementary school. We were in the same grade at the same middle school. But I was invisible there, too. I sat in the last seat of a 49-student classroom. No one talked to me. I was the girl in the ill-fitting hand-me-downs who smelled like mothballs and sadness. They said I was like an orphan. Chloe glanced at me. “No, we’re the same age,” she said quickly. “Anyway, let’s do the candles!” My Aunt Carol, seeing me stranded by the door, walked over. Her voice was always gentle. “Leah, come on. You can help Chloe blow out her candles.” But standing next to my cousin, under the bright lights of the dining room, the feeling of being less-than only intensified. Someone wrinkled their nose. “Ugh, what’s that smell?” I flinched, a Pavlovian response to any criticism. Others started sniffing the air. Chloe frowned, her eyes landing on me. “Leah, is that you? Maybe… maybe you should go take a shower or something.” I instinctively sniffed the collar of my worn t-shirt. I’d showered right before we left. It couldn’t be me. “It’s not…” My eyes fell to the giant flip-flops on my feet. “Maybe it’s the shoes?” “Don’t be ridiculous,” Chloe snapped, her voice sharp. “Those are my dad’s. They’re brand new. It’s you. Do you have athlete’s foot or something?” Panic seized me. I didn’t know whether to take them off or argue. My mother, already half-drunk on celebratory wine, heard the commotion and stormed over. Without a word, she slapped me across the face. The crack echoed in the suddenly silent room. “You’re old enough to know how to keep yourself clean! Get outside and wait for me. Now!” The other kids stared, their mouths hanging open. My face was on fire, a hot, spreading shame that felt worse than the sting. A tiny, nascent bud of self-respect had just tried to bloom inside me, and my mother had crushed it under her heel. Aunt Carol finally stepped in. “Sharon, what are you doing? It’s not her fault. Mark’s feet stink. It has nothing to do with the kid.” I looked at her with a rush of gratitude. I often wished she were my mother. She would speak to me gently. She wouldn’t hit me. I’d get a cake on my birthday and I wouldn’t have to spend my life scrubbing floors. But my mother just shot me a glare before turning to Chloe, her face melting into a mask of apology. “Chloe, honey, I am so, so sorry. This little brat ruined your party. I promise you, I will deal with her when we get home.” A cold dread washed over me. I knew what “dealing with her” meant. She dragged me out of the house. The second the door closed behind us, she shoved me, hard. I lost my footing at the top of the porch stairs and tumbled down, landing in a heap on the concrete. It wasn’t enough. She was on me in a second, grabbing my hair and slapping me again, twice. “You bitch,” she hissed, her breath thick with wine. “You useless little bitch. Why didn’t you just die when you were born?” My head swam. For a second, I didn’t know if the insults were for me or for herself. Inside the house, my cousin was celebrating. Out here, I was being beaten. Something snapped. A dam of years of swallowed resentment and silent grief burst inside me. I found a strength I didn’t know I had and shoved her away. “If you hate me so much,” I screamed, my voice raw, “why did you even have me?” She froze, stunned by my defiance. “You think I wanted you? If it wasn’t for…” She stopped herself, her eyes wide as if she’d almost let a secret slip. Back at our apartment, she cracked open a bottle of cheap vodka and sat drinking in the dark living room, muttering about how I’d ruined everything. I hid in the kitchen, where my small mattress was shoved into a corner. It was my bedroom. Through the window, moonlight spilled onto the floor. I wiped my tears, pulled my textbook from its hiding place, and started to read. I was slow. I had to work twice as hard to keep up with Chloe, to have any hope of getting into a good high school. Hours later, the kitchen light flickered on. My mother stood there, swaying. I shoved my book under the thin blanket, my heart hammering. She staggered over and stood looking down at me. I braced myself. But then, she smiled. It was a soft, gentle smile. The kind she only ever gave Chloe. “Mom loves you so much,” she slurred, her voice thick. “You won’t hate me, will you?” I stared, frozen. The world stopped spinning. Did she just say she loved me? But then she collapsed onto the edge of my mattress, her head lolling onto my shoulder. Her next words were a woozy whisper. “Chloe… my sweet Chloe. When you get into college, you’ll come back to Mom, right? We’ll be a family. They don’t deserve you. That bitch and her husband… they don’t deserve my perfect girl.” Her voice dropped even lower, a conspiratorial murmur against my ear. “If Mom wasn’t so broke back then… no job, no money… I never would have swapped you with that little brat. I love you so, so much, my Chloe…” Boom. A hammer crashed down inside my skull. Could it be true? I wasn’t her daughter? I was Aunt Carol’s? I thought of my aunt’s gentle voice, her kind eyes. The way she always seemed to look at Chloe with so much love. Could that love, that tenderness, be meant for me? Could I really have a mother like that? I barely slept. The next day, I had a plan. After school, I saw Aunt Carol’s car pull up to get Chloe. I waited, hiding behind a tree until they were at their front door, and then I called out her name. She looked surprised but told Chloe to go inside, then walked back to the sidewalk to meet me. “What is it, Leah? Is something wrong?” My hands twisted the hem of my shirt. I forced myself to repeat my mother’s drunken words, every last detail. My voice shook. “Aunt Carol,” I finished, my heart in my throat. “Am I… am I really your daughter?” The warmth in her face vanished. The smile disappeared. She looked at me, and for the first time, I saw my mother in her eyes. A chilling coldness. “You think I’m your mother?” she asked, her voice flat. A knot of dread tightened in my stomach. I regretted everything. I’d made a mistake. Now she would hate me, too. “I… I want you to be,” I whispered. She laughed, a short, ugly sound. All the gentleness I’d ever imagined was gone, replaced by pure mockery. “You think I don’t know?” she said, her voice dripping with contempt. “Of course I know. But what does it matter? It doesn’t matter if you’re my child or not. I don’t want you. You will never, ever be my daughter.” She turned and walked away without a backward glance. I stood there on the sidewalk for a long time, long after her door had shut, long after the sun had set. It didn’t matter who gave birth to me. My mother didn’t love me. My aunt didn’t want me. I was nobody’s child. After that day, I stopped asking questions. I stopped hoping for love. I still didn’t know the whole truth, but I knew one thing for sure: the only person who could change my life was me. And the only way to do that was to study. I became a machine. I studied during class, between classes, during lunch. At home, after scrubbing the floors and making dinner, I studied in my kitchen corner by the light of the moon. I would get into the best high school. And then I would get into the best college. It didn’t matter if they loved me. I would love myself. It paid off. On the midterm exams, I ranked first in our grade. Chloe was second. She cried when she saw the results. She’d never been second to anyone, especially not to me. Aunt Carol rushed to her side, wrapping her in a hug, murmuring comforts. “It doesn’t matter what you score, honey. Mommy will always love you.” My mother came, too. When she saw Chloe’s tear-streaked face, she walked straight over to me and kicked my shin so hard I buckled. “You useless piece of trash,” she hissed for all to hear. “What did you do to make your cousin cry? Apologize to her. Right now.” I was on my knees on the cold linoleum floor of the school hallway. This time, Aunt Carol didn’t even look at me. She just steered Chloe away. My mother kicked me again. “Are you deaf? I said apologize!” But what had I done wrong? My homeroom teacher, Ms. Albright, intervened, pulling my mother away. As she left, my mother spat on the floor near my feet. “Goddamn mute. You should’ve just died.” Then she hurried off, no doubt to find Chloe. Ms. Albright helped me up and took me back to her empty classroom. She made me a cup of hot chocolate from a packet she kept in her desk. “Leah,” she started, then sighed. “It’s cold out. Drink this. It’ll warm you up.” She looked at me, her expression full of a pained kindness I wasn’t used to. “You know, you’ve earned something special. From now on, in this class, the number one student gets a title. We’ll call it the ‘Solo’ spot. Because being at the top means you’re in a class all by yourself. And this time, that title belongs to you.” The classroom was empty, but her words felt like a standing ovation. Tears pricked my eyes. She had found a way to give me a name that meant something other than unwanted. For the name Solo, I would work even harder. Ms. Albright moved my desk from the forgotten back corner to the front row, right by her podium. For the first time, I had a deskmate. Her name was Maya. She was a cheerful, chubby girl who always had snacks and would sometimes slide a bag of chips or a cookie onto my desk. “Solo, you’re so skinny. Don’t you ever eat?” I was in charge of cooking at home, but when my mother wasn’t there, the pantry was empty. I often went hungry. She didn’t give me money for the school cafeteria; my existence was an afterthought. When Maya figured this out, she started packing extra food, claiming she couldn’t possibly finish it all and begging me to help her out. Under her care, I gained a little weight. My cheeks filled out. In return, I helped her with her homework, and slowly, I started to talk more, my voice growing stronger. The high school entrance exams were a month away. I was ready. But on the morning of the first test, my mother locked me in the kitchen. I screamed, I banged on the door, but she wouldn’t open it. Through the glass pane, I saw her take the exam admission letter and all the books I’d hidden in the cabinet and rip them to shreds. I sank to the floor amidst the confetti of my future. Her voice came from the other side of the door. “What’s the point of all that studying? Even if you got in, I wouldn’t pay for it. You’re not Chloe. Just accept your fate.” My heart felt like it had turned to stone. “Mom,” I asked, my voice flat and dead, “is Chloe your real daughter?” I saw her shadow freeze. “What nonsense are you talking about? I’m your mother. If you were half as well-behaved as your cousin, I wouldn’t have to do this!” I didn’t know what I had ever done that was so wrong. One by one, I picked up the torn pieces of my admission letter and put them in my pocket. Her voice droned on. “I’m telling you, your future is in a factory or married off to some loser! I raised you all these years, it’s time you paid me back. Stop trying to compete with your cousin. You can’t.” I didn’t hear her. I was looking at the window. An idea, wild and terrifying, took root. We lived on the third floor. Below the kitchen window was the building’s shared carport, covered by a corrugated plastic awning. If I was lucky, I’d land on the awning. If I wasn’t… I closed my eyes. A broken arm, a broken leg. It was a price I was willing to pay. I had to fight for myself, just this once.

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