I stumbled upon an old forum post from ten years ago. The title read: What should I do if my daughter keeps calling my husband ‘Daddy’? I chuckled. It was so absurd, so clueless. The comment section was mostly filled with people mocking the original poster. But then she got defensive. “She’s only eight years old. I never taught her to call him that.” “This child is so manipulative. She’s always clinging to my husband.” “She already knows how to seduce men at such a young age. I knew I should have had a son.” Reading closer, something felt wrong. The poster’s avatar was a picture of my cat. And ten years ago, I was exactly eight years old. 1 The phone felt hot in my palm. The post was like a rope, tying a past I had deliberately ignored to the present. A few days ago, my mom killed the cat I’d had for ten years. It happened the day before my dad was due back from a business trip. There was no violence, no struggle. Just an overdose of sleeping pills mixed into his cat food. Afterward, she clutched his cold, stiff body and cried harder than I did. To every neighbor who came to offer condolences, she’d say: “It’s all my fault I didn’t take better care of Mochi. You know how much Richard adored that cat…” No one suspected a thing. My mother looked utterly heartbroken, as if she’d lost a child. Only I knew. She was lying. Mochi wasn’t my dad’s favorite cat. He was mine. The last time Dad was home, he sat on the sofa with Mochi in his lap. “Our Lynn has always had good taste, even as a little girl,” he’d said. “Even the cat she picked is such a cuddle bug.” And for that sentence, Mochi had to die. Yes, it was that bizarre. Just like the dress Dad gave me for my 16th birthday. The next day, it was “accidentally” ruined in the wash with bleach. Just like the camera Dad bought me for my 18th birthday. Less than a week later, it “accidentally” fell from the balcony. Everything my father gave me, anything that carried a trace of his love for me, never lasted long. I used to think they were accidents. Until I found that post. Until Mochi died. Then, I finally understood. None of it was an accident. It was my mother’s long, silent war against me. The day Dad came home, the atmosphere in the house was heavy. He looked at the empty cat bed, and his eyes grew red. My mother immediately nestled into his arms. “Richard, I’m so sorry. I didn’t take good care of him…” He patted her back, comforting her. “It’s not your fault. He was getting old. Don’t be sad, look at you, your eyes are all swollen from crying.” I stood to the side, feeling like a complete outsider. At the dinner table, trying to cheer my mom up, Dad announced some good news. “My birthday is next month, and the company gave me a week off. I booked us tickets to the Florida Keys. The three of us are going to have a real vacation!” My mother’s eyes lit up. “Really? Oh, Richard, you’re the best!” She planted an excited kiss on his cheek. He smiled back, then turned to me. “Lynn, are you happy? Haven’t you always wanted to see the ocean?” Before I could answer, my mother cut in, her tone cloying but natural. “Oh, honey, Lynn needs to be focused on her studies. A trip like this will just distract her.” She paused, then added in a voice full of false wisdom, “Be a good girl, Lynn. Let Mom go with Dad this time, okay? Think of it as your birthday gift to him.” See? There she was again. Speaking the cruelest words in the gentlest voice. The air in the room froze. Dad shot me an awkward glance. I put down my chopsticks. “Mom’s right,” I said softly. “I won’t go. You two have fun.” With that, I fled to my room. The moment I closed the door, I heard my mother’s voice turn syrupy and sweet again. “See? Our Lynn is so understanding. Honey, we’re going to have such a wonderful time. We can even pretend it’s… a second honeymoon.” I leaned against the door, a chill seeping into my bones. This was the last straw. 2 After graduation, I applied to a university far from home. The farther, the better. The day my acceptance letter arrived, my dad was ecstatic. He called all our relatives and friends to plan a huge graduation party for me. The day of the party, the house was buzzing with excitement. I wore a new dress and accepted everyone’s congratulations. Dad, having had a little to drink, was beaming. “This is my daughter!” he announced to the room. “The greatest pride of my life!” In that moment, I almost forgot all the unpleasantness of the past. But my mother would never miss an opportunity to wound me. Halfway through the party, she suddenly picked up the microphone. “Thank you all for coming to celebrate our daughter.” Her gaze drifted around the room, finally settling on my father. “But the thing that makes me happiest today isn’t that my daughter got into a good college.” “It’s that I finally get to have my husband back. All to myself.” Her voice carried clearly to every corner of the room. A hush fell over the living room. Everyone stared at her, stunned. She paid them no mind, continuing to gaze lovingly at my dad. “Richard, you always said she was your little ray of sunshine. But what about me? Don’t I need some of that warmth?” Her eyes welled with tears, her voice thick with emotion. “Now she’s all grown up and ready to fly away. Isn’t it time… you finally looked back at me?” Dad stood frozen, completely at a loss. The relatives’ eyes darted between the three of us. Pity. Sympathy. Morbid curiosity. Standing in the center of the crowd in my brand-new dress, I felt naked, stripped bare in front of everyone. My mother had won again. With just a few sentences, she had turned my graduation party into her public trial. In her eyes, I wasn’t the daughter of the house. I was the biggest obstacle on her path to my father’s undivided affection. 3 The party ended in a cloud of awkwardness. I locked myself in my room. Through the door, I could hear the relatives’ hasty goodbyes and my mother’s pathetic sobs. She was crying again. Any time my dad showed the slightest preference for me, she would cry. Her tears were a weapon, expertly wielded to make him feel guilty and to paint me as the ungrateful villain. Sure enough, a knock came at my door. “Lynn, open up. Let’s talk.” His voice was weary. I didn’t move. “Your mother… she just loves me so much, she’s insecure. Don’t take it to heart.” There it was again. That same excuse. For as long as I could remember, it had been the catch-all justification for all of her twisted behavior. She’d lock me out of the house because she loved my dad so much and I was interrupting their time together. She’d rip up my award certificates because they had a picture of me with a male teacher, and she loved my dad so much she was afraid I’d learn bad habits and break his heart. Her actions were suffocating. “Dad,” I said through the door. “Do you really think that’s love?” Silence. After a long moment, I heard him sigh. His footsteps faded down the hall. He had chosen to run away from it again. That night, I thought about a lot of things. When I had a high fever as a child, he carried me to three different hospitals. When we got back, my mother didn’t say a word of concern. She just stared at his sweat-soaked shirt and said coldly, “You carried her all that way, and you don’t even think to hug me first when you get home.” When I got my first period in middle school, I was scared and confused. He awkwardly boiled me some hot tea with ginger. My mother saw and scoffed, “Such a big fuss over a little girl’s business. What’s she going to be like when she’s older?” I realized I remembered it all. I just hadn’t wanted to think about it, hadn’t dared to look too closely, hadn’t wanted to believe it. 4 On the day I left for college, Dad insisted on driving me. Mom came along too. At the entrance to the dorm, I took the suitcase from him. “You should head back.” He looked at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say more. In the end, he just patted my shoulder. “Take care of yourself. If you need money, just call me.” I nodded and turned to leave without a backward glance. But I could feel it—a piercing, triumphant gaze on my back. It was from my mother. College was like a shield, temporarily protecting me from the oppressive atmosphere at home. I threw myself into my studies, joined clubs, and earned scholarships, filling every waking moment. I rarely called home. Dad was always the one to call, asking how I was. In the background, I could always hear my mother’s voice, just loud enough to be heard. “What’s there to talk about? A daughter’s not yours to keep. She’ll belong to someone else soon enough.” “Tell her not to waste money. That cashmere sweater I wanted you to buy me, I still haven’t gotten it.” Dad would awkwardly cut her off and hang up. I’d hold the phone, feeling nothing. Distance brings clarity. Using the university’s library resources, I devoured books on psychology. Paranoid, histrionic, borderline personality disorders… I was like a detective, searching for a key to unlock the mystery of my mother in those cold, academic terms. Then, one day, I found it. The entries for pathological possessiveness and erotomania. The text described individuals who were incapable of processing platonic relationships, especially familial ones. They view any same-sex family member or friend as a potential rival for their partner’s affection. A jolt went through me. Every word was a perfect description of my mother. It wasn’t that she didn’t love me. She was simply incapable of loving me as a mother. In her eyes, I was another woman competing for her man. The realization sent a wave of physical revulsion through me. I decided I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit back and let her destroy my life, and what little was left of my love for my family. 5 I won first place in the university photography competition. The prize was five thousand dollars. Without telling a soul, I used the money to buy my dad a watch he’d been talking about for ages. I mailed it home, along with a copy of my award certificate. On the package, I wrote only my father’s name. It was my first test. It worked. Three days after the package arrived, my mother called. Her voice was sharp, dripping with an acidity she couldn’t contain. “Well, Lynn, look at you. So successful now you can just buy your father’s affection?” “Mom, that was my scholarship money.” “Scholarship money?” she sneered. “Who knows where that money really came from! A girl on her own… you’d better not be learning any bad habits out there!” Her words were vicious and cruel. The old me would have been in tears or screaming back at her. But now, I just replied calmly, “Mom, I also sent a copy of the photo to Mrs. Peterson. She was one of the judges. She said she’d love to visit soon and see this ‘talented and dutiful daughter’ for herself.” The other end of the line went silent. Mrs. Peterson was my dad’s oldest and closest friend. And she was the person my mother was most wary of. My mother couldn’t cover this up. She couldn’t destroy the watch or claim I’d gotten it through illicit means. “You…” she sputtered, speechless with rage. “Lynn, you’ve really grown up, haven’t you? You’ve learned how to plot against your own mother!” “I just wanted to make my dad happy.” That evening, Dad called me. His voice was filled with a joy and pride he couldn’t hide. “Lynn, I got the watch! It’s beautiful! This is the first gift you’ve ever bought me with your own money!” “I’m glad you like it, Dad.” “Like it? I love it!” He rambled on for a bit, then asked cautiously, “Did… did you talk to your mom?” “Yes, I did.” “She… she didn’t say anything, did she?” I could picture his conflicted expression. My heart sank a little. “Dad,” I began carefully. “If one day, you found out Mom had done some things that were very hard for you to accept, what would you do?” There was a long silence on the other end of the line.

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At forty-seven, my husband Arthur was on death’s door, and he chose that moment to confess. He told me that the daughter we had raised, Aubrey, was not my child. She was his sister-in-law’s. He had switched our babies while I was lost in a postpartum haze, moments after giving birth. But his sister-in-law’s child… at six years old, she’d had a raging fever. They didn’t get her to the hospital in time. The fever had damaged her brain. The look on my face must have been horrifying. Arthur wept, begging for my forgiveness. He swore that if there was a next life, he would marry me again and spend an eternity atoning for what he’d done. He had schemed against me for my entire life, and he still dared to imagine a next one? Only the weak pin their hopes on fairy tales of rebirth and second chances for revenge. I’m the type to settle a score then and there. Besides, had he really been so blind all these years? Didn’t he ever notice that the child bore no resemblance to him, or to his precious sister-in-law? 1 After Arthur got the lab results from the hospital, he came home and locked himself in his study. He didn’t come out all afternoon. I knew he was taking it hard, so I left him alone. Not long after, the doorbell rang. I opened it to find Arthur’s sister-in-law, Helen, standing on the porch. Behind her stood her daughter, Sophie—the poor girl whose mind had been frozen in time by that fever years ago. Helen’s brow was furrowed. The first words out of her mouth were, “Is Aubrey home yet?” Aubrey is my daughter. She’s twenty-two and still in college. I shook my head. “Not yet.” Then, my curiosity piqued, “Why? Is something wrong?” Helen ignored me, pushing past me into the living room as if she owned the place. I gently guided Sophie, who was lingering by the door, inside. When I turned around, Helen was sitting on the sofa, arms crossed, watching us. “You know, Nina,” she said, her eyes cold despite the smirk playing on her lips, “from this angle, you and Sophie actually look a bit alike.” I didn’t respond. It wasn’t the first time she’d said that. We weren’t related by blood. How could her daughter possibly look like me? I had just sat down across from her when she pressed on impatiently, “Arthur is in this state, and you’re still planning on keeping it from Aubrey?” Arthur had only received his diagnosis two hours ago. How did Helen already know everything? Before I could answer, the study door opened. Arthur, who had been hiding in there since he got home, finally emerged. His eyes landed on Helen, and his lips trembled, but the word “Helen” never quite escaped. The report confirmed it: late-stage lung cancer. It had already spread. He’d missed the window for effective treatment. He only had a few months left. They stared at each other for a long moment before Helen spoke. “Arthur, I still think we shouldn’t hide this from Aubrey. She’s your daughter, after all. Don’t you agree?” She put a sharp, deliberate emphasis on the words “your daughter.” Arthur was silent for a while before finally nodding. “You’re right. We shouldn’t hide it from her.” The two of them went back and forth, their glances loaded with unspoken meaning, treating me as if I were invisible. I pretended not to notice. I hadn’t cared when I was young; why would I get worked up over a dying man now? Arthur didn’t have much family left. His parents and his older brother were long gone. Besides me and Aubrey, there was only Helen and his niece, Sophie. Just as Arthur was about to call Aubrey, I stepped in. “Aubrey’s summer break starts in two weeks. It can wait a few more days.” Arthur thought for a moment and nodded, putting his phone away. Helen’s face darkened. She shot me a sideways glance. “You’re quite the controlling mother, aren’t you?” I offered a thin smile. “What parent doesn’t want what’s best for their child?” “True enough,” she said, her tone dripping with insinuation. “A pity about my poor, simple-minded girl. No matter how much I plan for her future, it’s useless.” Sophie sat beside me, blissfully unaware, her head bowed as she played with her fingers. The contrast between her innocence and her mother’s calculated bitterness was stark. Helen’s words were a joke. What had she ever planned for Sophie? The girl was in her twenties with a buzz cut, dressed in clothes that hung off her frame, her skin tanned to leather. She looked nothing like a young woman should. Arthur walked over and sat on the same sofa as Helen, leaving an empty space between them. Since everyone was here, I asked him, “What kind of treatment are you considering?” Arthur pinched the bridge of his nose, his face a mask of despair. “I haven’t decided yet.” He looked terrible. The diagnosis seemed to have drained the very life force from him. Helen was scrolling on her phone, pretending not to hear. Doctors are always ambiguous, probably to keep patients from losing hope. They don’t say it’s incurable, but they don’t promise a cure, either. They create an illusion: with the right treatment, there’s a chance. Arthur was clinging to that illusion. He’d saved up a decent amount from his business over the years; paying for treatment wouldn’t be an issue. It was at this point that Helen suddenly chimed in. “I think you should go for palliative care. That way, you won’t suffer so much.” Arthur’s face turned ashen. In his mind, palliative care was the same as giving up. He usually deferred to Helen, but this was his life on the line. No matter how bravely a man talks about death, when it’s staring him in the face, the fear of the unknown takes over. That fear magnifies, breeding a ferocious will to live. Helen announced she would be staying with us, claiming I couldn’t possibly manage Arthur on my own and that she, as his sister-in-law, needed to help. Arthur said nothing, just looked at me as if seeking my permission. I did have my own job to worry about. I had been planning on hiring a nurse. With Helen offering herself up, I had no reason to refuse. “That would be a great help, Helen. Thank you.” She waved a dismissive hand. “We’re family. No need for formalities.” And she certainly wasn’t formal. That evening, she lay on the sofa with a face mask on, binge-watching a TV series, and had the nerve to order me around. “God, I can’t remember the last time the little dummy had a bath,” she said. “Nina, be a dear and wash her for me, would you?” Sophie was engrossed in the television, giggling uncontrollably at a Tom and Jerry chase scene. I remembered her as a bright, adorable little girl, before the fever. Looking at her now, I could only think that having a mother like Helen was a cruel twist of fate. Sophie and Aubrey were born on the same day, with Aubrey being just three hours older. Sophie didn’t want her cartoon to end and struggled when I tried to lead her away. Helen shot her a venomous glare and barked, “Go take a bath!” I felt Sophie’s whole body flinch. She dropped to the floor, curled into a ball with her hands over her head, and let out a piercing scream. It was a classic trauma response, the reaction of a child who has been hit too many times. The noise brought Arthur out of his room. He glanced at Sophie, still screaming on the floor, then at Helen, his voice laced with annoyance. “Why are you yelling at her?” Helen snorted. “I regret not strangling her at birth.” As she said it, she kept darting her eyes toward me. I stood by, a cold observer. Sophie was her only child. How she chose to treat her was her business. I had no right to interfere. When Arthur’s friends heard he was sick, they started visiting in droves. It was too crowded to eat at home, so I booked a private room at a nearby hotel. These were men Arthur had worked with for years. Mindful of his condition, they kept the conversation light, reminiscing about good times and telling jokes to keep his spirits up. During the dinner, I noticed a man named Mark who seemed to know Helen. They exchanged loaded glances several times, a silent conversation passing between them. I didn’t know Mark well; he’d only started doing business with Arthur a few years ago. Their friendship wasn’t deep, and even Arthur seemed surprised to see him there. I watched them, my expression carefully neutral. At one point, Helen excused herself. A moment later, Mark also got up, mumbling something about the restroom, and followed her out. Others had left the table throughout the evening, so their dual departure didn’t raise any suspicion. They returned nearly twenty minutes later, one after the other. Mark was in a noticeably better mood, suddenly more talkative. Then, whether by accident or design, he brought up the topic of assets and inheritance. A heavy silence fell over the table. The smile vanished from Arthur’s face, and the hand holding his chopsticks began to tremble. The friend sitting next to Mark gave him a playful punch, trying to salvage the mood. “What are you talking about that for? Our Arthur is tough as nails. He’ll pull through.” A chorus of agreement followed, and the atmosphere began to lift. But then Helen cut in. “He’s not wrong, though. Arthur, even if not for yourself, you have to think about the child, don’t you?” When she said “yourself,” her gaze flickered over to me, dripping with malice. Arthur and I put down our chopsticks at the same time. The meal was over.

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After the filming for the “Family Swap” reality show ended, I died in the third month of living with my biological parents again. In the final moments, as my consciousness faded, I didn’t hear the heart-wrenching sobs I’d imagined, nor did I see my family wracked with guilt. Instead, I watched my mother pull the person who killed me into her arms, whispering words of comfort. I watched my father’s brow furrow in disgust as he cursed me under his breath. Only my sister, Ella, knelt by my body and let out a soft sigh. “It’s better that you’re dead. Now, Mom and Dad won’t have to be in such a difficult position anymore.” So, this was it. No one would grieve for me. A bitter laugh escaped my lips as my last attachments dissolved with my shattered soul. A blinding white light flashed, and when I opened my eyes again, I was back on the first day my parents came to take me home. 1 Almost instinctively, I took a step back, avoiding my mother’s embrace. Her hands froze awkwardly in mid-air, her face falling. “Rina, you…” I knew what she wanted to ask. Did you miss me this past year? Are you okay? But my mind was still reeling from the shock of being reborn, my body reacting purely on the conditioned fear from my past life. Once the reality of it all settled in, I took several more deliberate steps back, putting a clear distance between us. My parents stood there, stunned. Seeing my desperate avoidance, their expressions soured. “Rina, you’ve only been gone a year. How can you be such a stranger to your own parents?” “Is it because we want to adopt Ciara? Are you unhappy about that?” I shook my head, my voice flat. “No.” In my last life, I had thrown myself into their arms, overwhelmed with longing. When I heard they wanted to adopt Ciara, I threw a jealous tantrum. Ciara saw it all and, in a fit of manufactured despair, threatened to run away into a blizzard. My parents, hearts aching for her, spent the entire day consoling her, leaving me, their newly returned daughter, completely alone. To appease her further, they threw a lavish adoption ceremony the very next day, officially announcing to the media that Ciara was their new daughter. That was the day my suffering truly began. This life, I refused to make the same mistakes. I wanted nothing to do with a love built on lies and manipulation. Seeing that I wasn’t upset, my parents visibly relaxed. They were afraid—afraid I’d compete with Ciara for their affection, and even more afraid that Ciara would be hurt. I let out a silent, self-mocking laugh and walked towards the guest room. As I turned, I came face-to-face with Ciara. She looked at me with wide, pleading eyes, tears already welling up. “Rina, I’m only staying because I can’t bear to leave Mom, Dad, and Ella. Please don’t be angry with them. If you’re unhappy, I can leave right now.” Ciara was a year younger than me. The first time I met her, in my past life, my first instinct was that I, as the older sister, should be generous. When we swapped places for the show, I had thoughtfully left her all my favorite toys and clothes and even told my parents to take good care of her. When the year-long show ended, we were supposed to return to our own lives, our own homes. I could never understand it. I was back, so why were they so reluctant to let Ciara leave? This time, faced with her performance, I just smiled faintly. “I’m not angry. Whether Mom and Dad adopt you or ask you to leave, I don’t have an opinion. As long as they’re happy.” My words were so mature, so flawless, that even my parents were taken aback. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught the flicker of surprise in Ciara’s. My reaction clearly wasn’t what she’d hoped for. Last time, my hysterics had successfully turned my parents and sister against me, making them pity her even more. Step by step, I had walked right into the traps she set, deeper and deeper into the abyss. Ciara bit her lip, about to say something else, but the sound of the front door opening cut her off. “You don’t have the right to be angry anyway.” My own sister, Ella, was home. She wrapped an arm around a “distraught” Ciara, her gaze landing on me with open contempt. “Ciara took your place this past year, caring for Mom and Dad, being a daughter to them. She’s already part of this family. You’d better not start trouble the second you walk in the door.” Ella had never liked me much. When other little sisters were happily holding their big sister’s hand, I could only watch mine from the crack in her bedroom door. That’s why I had volunteered for her first big project—the reality show she created. I had hoped it would finally win me a little of her affection. And it had. Ella was thrilled—because she seemed to adore the new “sister” she got in the exchange. … That first night back, I slept alone in the cold, cluttered guest room. The only difference was that this time, I had chosen it myself. My parents didn’t object. They exchanged a look and then eagerly helped me with my luggage, carefully avoiding any mention of me moving back into my old room, as if terrified I might ask. “Ciara’s gotten used to that room,” my mother explained with a strained smile, not a hint of guilt in her voice. “It wouldn’t be right to ask her to move out now. You’ll just have to make do with the guest room for a while.” As if it were perfectly normal for the adopted daughter of one year to have the master bedroom, while the biological daughter was relegated to storage. Last time, when I demanded my room back, Ella had slapped me across the face. “You just got here and you’re already trying to take things from Ciara! Her life has been so hard. Can’t you show her a little kindness?” “As long as I’m here,” she’d snarled, “you will not bully Ciara.” The slap had filled my mouth with the taste of blood, shattering the last of my fragile hope. Even in this new life, the memory made my chest ache. That night, I huddled in the cramped guest room, clutching my luggage, and shivered through the long, cold night. My room, which had become Ciara’s a year ago, was no longer mine. This time, I knew my place. I didn’t fight. I didn’t ask for anything. Just as they wanted. … Just like last time, three days after I came home, the guaranteed admission slot my parents had pulled strings to get became available. There was only one spot. It became their biggest dilemma: give it to me, or to Ciara? Last time, they came to me and said that Ciara had suffered so much in her life and her health was too fragile to handle the stress of the final exams. They wanted to give the spot to her. I cried and refused. They pretended to agree, but then secretly filled out the paperwork with Ciara’s name on it anyway. I didn’t understand then that some things, whether I was willing to give them up or not, were no longer mine to begin with. This time, when they came in, I was sitting at the desk, reading. They exchanged an awkward glance, neither wanting to be the first to speak. I knew why they were here. I saved them the trouble. “Is something wrong?” “Rina,” my mother began, hesitating, a flicker of guilt in her eyes. “We managed to get a guaranteed admission slot to a top university. It was supposed to be for you.” She paused, nudging my father with her elbow. He cleared his throat and picked up where she left off. “But, as you know, Ciara’s health isn’t the best, and the pressure of the exams is immense. So… we were hoping you would let Ciara have it. Would that be okay?” It was phrased as a question, but the decision had already been made. I played my part. I looked my mother in the eye and nodded. “Okay. Give it to her.” They were both stunned. The long speeches they had prepared died on their lips. They never expected me to agree so easily. My mother let out a long, relieved sigh. “That’s my girl. So understanding.” … At dinner that night, there were extra dishes on the table, a clear sign of their good mood. But not a single one was a dish I liked. My mother smiled, piling food onto Ciara’s plate. “Ciara, your sister Rina is giving you the admission slot. Now you can just relax and wait for university to start.” Ella looked up, a flash of disbelief in her eyes. She, too, seemed shocked by my compliance. “Oh, no, I couldn’t!” Ciara said, shaking her head as tears immediately welled in her eyes. “It’s an honor enough that Rina let me stay. How could I take her spot?” It was her favorite trick. I was used to it. I just kept my head down and ate. Across the table, Ella snorted. “Mom and Dad got this opportunity. It doesn’t have Rina’s name on it. They can give it to whoever they want. She doesn’t have a say in it anyway.” Her tone was as cold and dismissive as ever. My mother shot Ella a warning look, then gave me an awkward smile. “Rina, your sister is just joking. Don’t take it to heart.” I shook my head. “I know.” Perhaps finally feeling a pang of guilt, my father put down his chopsticks. “This was unfair to you,” he said, his voice tentative. “If there’s anything you want, just ask. We’ll do our best to make it up to you.” I thought for a moment, then pointed a finger towards the corner guest room. “That room’s window is too small. It’s too dark for studying…” Before I could finish, a pair of chopsticks came flying at my face, followed by Ella’s furious roar. “Rina, I knew you were up to no good! That room is Ciara’s now! You think you can push your luck and steal it from her? Not a chance!” She slammed her hands on the table and stood up, glaring as if she wanted to tear me apart. My parents, after a brief moment of shock, frowned, their minds already made up. I calmly pulled a piece of paper from my pocket. A dormitory application form. “You misunderstood.” “I just want to move into the school dorms. I need a parent’s signature.” Silence. The rest of the dinner was tense. My parents were shocked by my request, but neither of them said a word against it. Forcing Ciara out of my old room was unthinkable; me moving out was the perfect solution. In my last life, I would have been screaming, crying, demanding to know why they were so biased. But this time, I was quiet. I didn’t even make them feel awkward. I was the one offering the solution. They were happy. And so was I. My mother sighed, making a half-hearted attempt to persuade me. “Rina, it’s tough for a girl to live in a dorm. It’s not like we don’t have other rooms…” “If you don’t like your current room, I can redecorate another one for you, make it bright and spacious.” I knew better. Last time, the fight over a bedroom had been a long, ugly war that I lost spectacularly. She had our parents and our sister. I had no one. This life, I had no desire to compete with Ciara for scraps of affection. My only goal was to build myself up, love myself, and escape this so-called “home” as soon as possible. “No, thank you. I want to live at school. Please let me.” Seeing my resolve, my mother tried again, but my father cut her off. “Let her be. If Rina wants to live in the dorm, let her. She’s grown up now. She can take care of herself. She doesn’t need us hovering over her.” A bitter laugh almost escaped me. I was barely seventeen, and he had already decided I didn’t need much care. Yet, in my last life, he drove Ciara to and from school every single day, doting on her without fail. How did they know I didn’t need to be taken care of? They just didn’t want to. My heart was already scarred and numb, but in that moment, a familiar ache returned.

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Three days before my wedding, I discovered Eric had changed our venue from my grandmother’s estate to a Spanish castle—Chloe’s favorite place. I rushed to confront him but overheard him complaining: “Thank God Chloe has taste. Otherwise, I’d be a laughingstock.” His friend asked, “But you promised her grandmother’s place. Won’t she call it off?” Eric scoffed: “Her family’s bankrupt. Marrying me is her only way out. She can’t afford to gamble.” He smirked, “The planner already called her. She’s probably rebooking her flight right now.” Anger and betrayal twisted inside me. I bit my lip and walked away. Three days later, the castle wedding proceeded. I didn’t rebook my flight. I didn’t show up. Instead, in my grandmother’s garden, I exchanged rings with another man. To this day, Eric doesn’t understand: I didn’t marry him for a way out—but for a love that lasted ten years. When the dream ended, I simply made another choice. 1 Not long after I left the Levine Corporation building, Eric sent me the address of the Spanish castle along with a photo. It was a stunning shot of the castle’s facade—ivory limestone walls, a gilded dome, the very picture of opulence. But front and center in the photo, a striking figure in a flowing red dress with a cascade of auburn curls, was Chloe. My finger hovered over her beaming face for a moment, and a wave of absurdity washed over me. I was the bride. This was supposed to be our wedding venue. Yet the star of the photo he sent was his childhood friend, the one he always insisted was “just a friend, don’t overthink it.” After that, silence. I knew Eric. He figured the wedding planner had already broken the news, so he was just nudging things along, sending the address so I wouldn’t book a flight to the wrong country. A stone had settled in my stomach. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. He had promised me we’d have the ceremony at my grandmother’s estate. Why would he change everything, without a second thought, just because Chloe liked a castle? It was dark by the time I got home. As I approached the door, I heard Eric snapping at the housekeeper. “Ava isn’t a toddler. Does she really expect me to worry if she’s a little late?” “But sir,” the housekeeper said nervously, “Ms. Quinn left right after the call from the wedding planner this morning. I was worried she might…” Eric laughed, a harsh, cutting sound. “She left to sort out her visa and change her flights. Getting the entire Quinn clan rerouted isn’t a simple task.” He sounded so sure of himself. “Don’t worry. Ava has been dreaming of marrying me for years. She’d be lost without me. I could move the venue to Antarctica and she’d crawl her way there, let alone to a castle hand-picked by Chloe.” The housekeeper fell silent, but Eric kept muttering to himself. “Chloe hasn’t texted back in five minutes… I should go check on her.” He hurried out of the house just as I was slipping away. It was the Levine family villa, after all. Not my home. He’d asked me to move in to make wedding preparations easier. At first, it was perfect. We were honey-sweet, just like any other engaged couple. Then Chloe came home, nursing a broken heart, and Eric announced he had to go comfort her. That “comforting” had now stretched into four months. Anytime Chloe felt down, he would drop everything—drop me—and run to her side. I chose the wedding dress alone. I designed the layout for the ceremony in my grandmother’s garden alone. He had no part in it. Whenever I dared to complain, he’d look up from his phone, his face a mask of irritation from being interrupted while texting her. “You only want to marry me to save your family’s business, right?” he’d say. “I’ve already agreed to that. What more do you want?” Then his phone would ring—Chloe, of course—and he’d walk out, a smile already on his face, leaving my words to vanish into the air. “You were the one who proposed to me,” I’d whisper to the empty room. “I said yes because I loved you…” In that moment, I went from a woman giddy with the joy of her upcoming wedding to a lonely spectator in my own life. And now, even the choice of where I would get married had nothing to do with me. I spent that night at a friend’s place. Eric never once tried to contact me. The next day, after finishing the handover at my job, I walked into the villa to the sound of Chloe’s cheerful laughter. “During the vows, you have to have flower petals floating down from both sides,” she was saying, her eyes sparkling. “It’s so much more romantic that way.” Eric sat beside her, his gaze soft and full of adoration, following her every move. “Whatever you want.” It was a look of devotion he had never given me. When she saw me, Chloe waved me over. “Ava, you’re here! I have the most amazing idea for the wedding!” From the corner of my eye, I saw Eric frown at me. “Where have you been? Chloe’s been working on this wedding for four months, and you’ve barely lifted a finger.” He didn’t stop there. “It’s for the best, I guess. Chloe’s taste is far better than yours. That rustic theme you came up with was so embarrassing. I almost became a joke in my circle.” That feeling of being an outsider washed over me again, cold and sharp. “I’m tired,” I said, my voice flat. “I’m going to rest.” Ignoring the deep furrow in Eric’s brow, I walked straight to the guest room. As I closed the door, a message popped up on my phone, one I had ignored many times before. “Just say the word, and I’ll crash that wedding, even if it costs me everything.” From outside the door, I could hear Chloe describing her dream of a flower-filled castle wedding, punctuated by Eric’s endless, patient refrains of “Whatever you want.” I gave a bitter smile and typed a reply. “You don’t have to crash it. You’ll be the groom.” Eric, if you were destined for a castle, then I would go south, back home. I would set you free. And in doing so, I would finally set myself free. 2 I tossed and turned all night. Every time I closed my eyes, I was flooded with memories of the last ten years with Eric, of a love I thought was boundless. He used to be my staunchest defender. No matter who said I wasn’t good enough for him, he would stand by my side, unyielding. My grandmother, in her final days, had taken his hand and told him she was entrusting me to him. His gaze had been a fire, and he’d nodded solemnly. “Grandma, don’t worry. I love Ava more than I love myself. I will never let her suffer.” “I promise you,” he’d sworn, “we’ll get married right here in your garden, so you can see her walk down the aisle with your own eyes.” Those vows felt like granite then, unbreakable and eternal. But I had forgotten that even stone can be worn away by water, that time erodes even the most sacred of promises. The day before the wedding, I found a long purple dress laid out in the living room. It had a sweeping train and a giant, blood-red flower blooming on the chest. Chloe rushed over, beaming. “Ava, look! I designed this wedding dress for you myself.” “Eric said you liked a rustic, countryside style, so I did a lot of research on village weddings to get it just right!” Even though I had already made my decision, the sight of this so-called “wedding dress” made me cringe. “In my hometown, the bride wears a wedding dress,” I said coolly. “Not a bridesmaid’s gown.” Chloe’s smile faltered, and she took a step back. “Oh, I’m so sorry, Ava. I didn’t mean to overstep.” “I just thought… I thought you would like it… I’ll get rid of it right now!” She grabbed a pair of scissors and moved toward the dress, but Eric, emerging from his study, snatched them from her hand. “How many times have I told you not to be careless with scissors? What if you hurt yourself?” Tears welled in Chloe’s eyes, her voice trembling. “Eric, did I do something wrong? Ava is so angry with me…” Before I could explain, Eric turned on me, his face dark. “Chloe spent four months designing this for you. She pulled all-nighters talking to the seamstress. Is this how you repay her?” “If it weren’t for her, you wouldn’t even have a dress to wear.” “Apologize!” he commanded. I met his furious gaze, and the situation struck me as utterly ridiculous. When I had tried to discuss the dress with him weeks ago, he’d told me not to bother him while he was taking Chloe to Bali to cheer her up. Yes, Chloe was so very important. When Chloe was sad about her breakup, he stayed up all night talking to her. On my birthday, he booked out a theater for Chloe so she could watch a romance movie. When I was burning up with a fever from overwork, he told me to “drink more water” before rushing Chloe to a private clinic for a tiny scratch on her arm. This was my wedding. I had done everything I was supposed to do. But because Chloe had inserted herself, the narrative had become “she did everything for me.” Eric’s relatives all saw me as lazy and ungrateful. They all despised me. The truth was, my real wedding dress and his suit were hanging in the closet of my guest room right now. He hadn’t even bothered to look at them, yet here he was, demanding I apologize to her. The disappointment settled deeper, and my expression hardened. Eric sneered. “You’re not going to apologize? Fine. Then the wedding is off. We’ll get married when you decide to say you’re sorry to Chloe!” Suddenly, my clenched fists relaxed. I looked at him, my voice clear and steady. “Fine.” With that, I went to my room to pack. Noah had told me the bougainvillea at my grandmother’s house was in full bloom. I wanted to see it again. Grandma and I had planted it together before my parents moved me to the city. In the living room, Eric was comforting Chloe, but a flicker of irritation crossed his face. He glanced at the guest room door and, turning away from her, discreetly texted his assistant. The reply came quickly: “Mr. Levine, Ms. Quinn does have a record of a flight change with LevineAir, but I don’t have the clearance to see the final flight information. You’ll have to check it yourself.” The tension in his face eased. He replied with a simple, “No need.” As I finished packing, a text from Eric came through. “If you’re going to be my wife, you need to work on that temper. Chloe was only trying to help. How could you hurt her feelings like that?” “Anyway, there’s a family dinner this afternoon. I’ll take Chloe over first, and I’ll send a driver for you.” “When you get there, just apologize to Chloe, and we can move past this. We’re getting married tomorrow. Let’s not ruin the mood.” A Levine family dinner, and he was escorting Chloe. When the driver knocked, I took one last look at my luggage. Fine. Eric had proposed to me in public. It was only fitting that I call it off in public, too. 3 When I arrived at the old Levine estate, Chloe was the center of attention, surrounded by admiring relatives. “Ava, over here!” She spotted me and glided over in her stilettos. I noticed she had changed into a stunning red evening gown. It was identical to the reception dress I had chosen for myself. I instinctively bit my lip. Just then, Eric came down the stairs. His eyes landed on Chloe, and they lit up with genuine wonder. “Chloe, you look beautiful!” She blushed. “Eric, stop it. Ava’s right here.” She turned to me, her expression a perfect mask of contrition. “Ava, please don’t be upset. I feel so terrible about causing that fight between you two this morning.” Eric couldn’t take his eyes off her, the sparkle in them undeniable. He didn’t even glance at me as he gently brushed an eyelash from under her eye. The gesture sent a ripple of laughter through the room. Eric’s father sighed wistfully. “Chloe and our Eric always did make a better pair, didn’t they?” I looked down at my own simple sea-green dress. I was no goddess, but Eric used to tell me I was beautiful all the time, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear with such care. Chloe was now chiding his father playfully. “Uncle, please don’t say things like that in front of Ava. You’ll hurt her feelings.” Eric’s parents just chuckled. Finally, Eric deigned to look at me, his face clouded with annoyance. “My parents watched Chloe grow up. Can’t you be a little less petty? It was just a compliment.” “No wonder my mother always says a good upbringing is everything,” he continued, his voice dripping with disdain. “You grew up with your grandmother in the countryside and didn’t move to the city until you were eighteen. You really don’t have any class at all.” My brow furrowed. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Eric, you know how much my grandmother loved you. Aren’t you afraid of hurting her by saying that?” He looked momentarily guilty, but with his family watching, his expression hardened again. “The point is, Chloe and I are just friends who grew up together. Don’t let your petty female jealousy upset her.” It always came back to Chloe. A profound weariness washed over me. The weight of the past few months, of our entire history, felt like a mountain crushing my chest. After a long moment, I finally spoke. “I came here today because I wanted to tell you…” “Eric!” Chloe interrupted loudly. “My best friend wants to come to Spain too! Are there any empty seats on the flight?” Eric nodded immediately. “Of course. I’ll arrange it.” His assistant hesitated. “Sir, wasn’t the last seat reserved for Ms. Quinn…?” “Oh, then never mind,” Chloe said, her voice laced with disappointment. “I don’t want to upset Ava…” Eric couldn’t stand to see her sad. “Ava can take another flight,” he said decisively. “Chloe’s friend doesn’t know anyone. She has to fly with us.” Chloe beamed, grabbing his arm and swinging it playfully. “Eric, I knew you were the best!” The contemptuous glances in the room shifted back to me. “Eric chartered two private jets just for the wedding, and now the bride isn’t even on one of them.” “So what? To save her family, Ava would walk there if she had to.” The whispers of ridicule surrounded me, but Eric, his eyes only for Chloe, didn’t hear me, didn’t see me. I was, and always had been, just a spectator. Sighing internally, I turned to leave. I would cancel the engagement later. But as I did, my eyes caught a glint of gold around Chloe’s neck. A necklace. Dangling from it was a diamond, cut in the shape of a plum blossom. My world exploded. “Where did you get that diamond?!”

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Some trust-fund kid strolled into the amusement park and, not wanting to wait in line, offered to buy my best friend and me out of our spots near the front. When Mia heard the offer, she exploded. “Money can’t buy you everything! We may be poor, but we have dignity. You want our spots? Dream on!” She grabbed my arm, her voice a fierce whisper. “Leah, we worked hard for this day out. You’re not just going to give up our spots, right? We have to have some self-respect.” Her words almost convinced me to tell the guy to get lost. But then, a series of comments scrolled across my vision, like some kind of augmented reality feed: 【The main character is so naive. Last time, after she refused the rich heir, her ‘best friend’ immediately added him on social media behind her back, sold him the spots, and pocketed fifty grand.】 【Later, when the MC’s parents got sick and she needed money, that same ‘friend’ not only refused to lend her a dime but pretended she didn’t even know her. The MC ended up dying on the streets. A total tragedy.】 I froze, staring at the phantom text. Fifty grand? Just for giving up a spot in line? You should have led with that. 1 “We’ve been waiting since six this morning,” Mia hissed in my ear, a frantic buzz of indignation. “We stood in this line for over an hour. These rich jerks just love to humiliate people. Don’t you dare say yes.” My head was spinning, the phantom comments still scrolling through my vision. 【Come on, MC, don’t be an idiot. That’s fifty thousand dollars. Don’t listen to your trash friend and throw that away for ‘dignity’.】 Crude, but true. All I could see were dollar signs. Fifty. Thousand. Dollars. I graduated a little over a year ago. My salary is barely four grand a month. It would take me years to save that much money. Decision made. I walked over to the guy, who was starting to look impatient. “No problem, sir. Fifty thousand, you said? I’m actually getting tired of waiting anyway. The spot’s all yours.” “Your Venmo.” He pulled out his phone, flashing the screen at me. For a second, I thought it was a phone number, not a bank balance. “Leah, what are you doing?!” Mia shrieked, stomping her foot. “Have you no self-respect? Selling out for a little cash!” I ignored her, pulling out my own phone. 【What’s happening? Did the main character just get a brain? This isn’t how it’s supposed to go.】 【No, this is perfect. The male lead likes people who know how to adapt. Arguing with him gets you nowhere. He was in a bad mood today and just came to the park to unwind, and the original MC just made things worse by being difficult.】 A soft ding from my phone confirmed the transfer. $50,000.00 received. A jolt went through me, making the hair on my arms stand up. My family has never seen this much money in one place. I just earned it by standing around for an hour. Somebody pinch me. Or slap me. This feels too easy; I’m almost suspicious. “Sir,” I said, a brilliant idea striking me. “Since you’ve been so generous, let me make your day even better. What other rides do you want to hit? I’ll go save you a spot. No charge, it’s on the house.” The comments had mentioned he was in a bad mood. A guy like him wouldn’t just ride one roller coaster. He’d want the full VIP experience to blow off steam. He looked up, a flicker of what looked like approval in his eyes. He probably wasn’t used to people being this accommodating. “Alright,” he said. “Give me your number. I’ll text you the rides I want to go on. Share your location so I can find you.” “No way!” Mia lunged forward and snatched my phone. Her eyes were blazing. “Leah, have you lost your mind? You’re just going to let this rich asshole treat you like his personal servant?” My friendly demeanor vanished. “Give me back my phone, Mia. This is my business, not yours.” I held out my hand. Then, I turned back to the man. “What should I call you, sir?” “Reid. Share your location. I don’t want you taking the money and running.” The lights of the waiting area were dim, but his eyes seemed to glitter. I quickly looked away and started heading out of the line. Mia shouted my name a few times, but I didn’t look back. I practically sprinted, afraid she’d slow me down and I’d miss getting to the next ride in time. 2 Reid texted me his next target: the pirate ship. I pulled up the park map and hurried over. On the way, I passed a convenience store and ducked inside, grabbing a bottle of ice-cold water and a small, portable fan. “Leah, come with me right now. Stop this.” Mia had found me, and she grabbed my arm, trying to drag me out of the store. She was putting on her best ‘I’m so worried about you’ act. “What you’re doing… it’s no different from what those girls on the street do. You’re selling yourself.” I rolled my eyes so hard I felt a muscle pull. “Don’t be so dramatic. How is this any different from my office job? I sell my time and energy to my boss there, too, and he pays me a hell of a lot less.” “I’ll transfer you five hundred dollars,” I said, pulling away from her. “Get a cab and go home. If you still want to hang out, we can do it another time. Today’s not going to work.” “Five hundred?! He gave you fifty thousand!” she blurted out. And there it was. She wasn’t mad for my sake. She was mad because she wasn’t getting a cut. “Take it or leave it.” I pushed past her and headed for the door. The next second, she crumpled to the floor with a dramatic cry. “Ow, ow, ow! My leg! I think my old injury is acting up! Leah, you have to take me to the hospital, I can’t get up!” My first instinct was to rush over and check on her. But then, the comments flared to life again. 【She’s faking it. Don’t fall for it, MC. Her leg is perfectly fine.】 【The MC is too kind. Her so-called ‘best friend’ lied and said she broke her leg in a car crash while buying her a birthday present. The truth is, she wiped out on her boyfriend’s motorcycle and was too scared to tell her parents, so she used the MC as a cover story.】 What? I stared at the text, my brain screeching to a halt. Two years ago, on my birthday, Mia called me from the hospital, hysterical. She’d been in a car accident, she said, and had broken her leg. I rushed over, paid her medical bills, and felt wracked with guilt when she told me it happened while she was on her way to buy my birthday gift. I ended up canceling my own birthday plans to take care of her. It was all a lie? She was the one who had been playing me for a fool all along. “Leah, hurry up and help me! I can’t move!” Mia wailed from the floor. I turned to the store clerk. “I don’t really know her,” I said calmly. “She seems to be hurt. Could you please call an ambulance for her?” The clerk and a few other well-meaning customers immediately rushed to Mia’s side, surrounding her. With so many people watching, she couldn’t exactly jump up and say she was fine. She had no choice but to commit to the act. I slipped out the back door and made a beeline for the pirate ship. 3 By the time I was near the front of the line, Reid showed up. I handed him the cold water and switched on the mini-fan, aiming a pleasant breeze at his face. He visibly relaxed, his mood improving. With a grand wave of his hand, he sent another ten thousand dollars to my account. Once he seemed rested, I was off again, heading to the next attraction on his list. Luckily, I’d done my research before coming, planning out not just the best rides, but the best restaurants in the park too. By the end of the day, Reid was fed, thrilled, and actually smiling. As for me, I was exhausted, but my bank account had never been healthier. The final ride was the Ferris wheel. It was getting dark, and the park’s fireworks show was about to start. The top of the Ferris wheel was the best spot for photos, and the line was already massive. I skipped dinner to race over and secure a prime spot for my golden goose. Reid strolled over after a leisurely meal. As I was about to give him the spot, he tossed a takeout bag at me. “You’ve worked hard all day. Eat something.” I looked at the logo on the bag and felt a genuine pang of gratitude. I hadn’t eaten partly because I wanted to hold his spot, but mostly because the park food was ridiculously expensive. I had a pack of ramen in my backpack, and I was planning on finding some hot water for it later. But now, the boss was treating me. I grinned like a fool and started to step away to find a bench. “Eat here,” Reid said, stopping me. “You’re coming on with me.” I frowned. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I only saved one spot.” He made an impatient sound and turned to the guy behind him in line. “Hey, buddy. A thousand bucks to let my friend have your spot.” The guy’s eyes lit up, and he agreed instantly. Hang on. Did anyone ask for my opinion? I wasn’t dying to ride the Ferris wheel. And getting into a small, private cabin with a guy I’d known for less than a day sounded… awkward. Reid seemed to read my mind. He gave me a light tap on the back of the head. “Don’t overthink it. Who’s going to take my picture if I go up alone?” Right. Sure. The bullet comments, however, had other ideas. 【Such a tsundere. He’s totally falling for her. She’s been a one-woman support crew all day—food when he’s hungry, drinks when he’s thirsty, disposable slippers when his feet hurt, and she even had bug spray when a mosquito bit him. Who wouldn’t fall for a girl like that?】 I kept my head down, ignoring them. I’d packed all that stuff for myself. Reid just got lucky. Besides, I treated my old boss at the office with the same level of service. Reid was just another client. And who in their right mind falls for their boss? 4 By the time we left the park, the sky was pitch black. I figured a guy like Reid drove himself, so I was about to say my goodbyes and head for the subway when a fleet of black cars pulled up to the curb. Even a broke girl like me could tell from the logos that they were obscenely expensive. A sharply dressed middle-aged woman stepped out of the lead car. She radiated power. “Did you have a good time, son? Let’s go home.” “How did you know I was here?” Reid’s voice was tight. “Did you have me followed again?” I hung back, trying to make myself invisible. This was family drama, and I wanted no part of it. The last train was leaving soon. “Young lady, wait a moment!” The woman—his mother, I presumed—spotted my escape attempt and called out to me. 【Quick, MC, go say hi! In the original story, the ‘best friend’ got her ticket into high society by sucking up to his mom!】 【Forget it. The MC is a total introvert. She sees a stranger and her first instinct is to bolt. Too bad. Mrs. Vance was so happy to see Reid enjoying himself, she was about to offer her a job as his personal companion. The pay is way better than her office job.】 The idea of marrying into a rich family held zero interest for me, but the word “job” made my ears perk up. I might be an introvert, but for the right price, I can be whatever you need me to be. I immediately shifted into work mode. “Yes, ma’am? How can I help you?” “I hear you spent the whole day with Reid. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen him this happy. Would you be willing to… continue spending time with him?” The wording was a little strange, but I went with it. “If Mr. Vance needs me, I’m available. I know all the best spots, not just amusement parks, but all sorts of attractions.” “That’s wonderful! I can’t stand seeing him cooped up at home playing video games all day. It would be a relief to know you’re getting him out of the house.” Reid, for his part, seemed to agree that I’d done a good job and didn’t object. Before I knew it, one of his mother’s assistants was taking down my information to draw up a contract for a “full-time companion,” complete with salary and benefits. Mrs. Vance even had one of the cars drive me home so I wouldn’t have to take the subway. My life was getting ridiculously, wonderfully better. The next morning, I quit my job. Then I took my parents to the hospital for a full set of check-ups—better to catch any problems early. Mrs. Vance had a car delivered to me, so I wouldn’t have to drag Reid around on public transport. And since I had a driver’s license, she gave me a second salary to act as his chauffeur. The bullet comments were having a field day, shipping me and Reid hard. 【Look at the way he looks at her! He’s totally in love. So sweet. This timeline is so much better.】 【Uh, does no one remember he has a childhood sweetheart? In his heart, she’s always going to be number one.】 A childhood sweetheart? I mentally shrugged. What does that have to do with me? I’m just here to do a job. A few days later, I drove to Reid’s house to pick him up for a hike. As I got out of the car, a stunningly beautiful woman blocked my path. “So you’re the ‘companion’ my aunt hired for Reid?” I was about to get a better look at her face when the comments started flying. 【Whoa, why is the childhood sweetheart back now?】 【She’s known him for fifteen years. Our MC has known him for fifteen days. The match is already decided.】 A friend of the boss is half a boss. I put on my most professional smile. “Hello. I’m Reid’s companion. My name is Leah.” She shot me a dismissive look. “You’re fired. Don’t come back.” Excuse me? Who did she think she was, trying to cut off my income stream just like that? My smile vanished. “I’m afraid that’s not your decision to make. I have a contract with Mr. Vance. If you want to fire me, you’ll have to go through the proper channels.” With that, I sidestepped her and walked toward the villa. “Didn’t you hear me? This isn’t a place you can just walk into! Get out!” She lunged at me, shoving me hard. I stumbled back, catching myself on the doorframe just before I fell. “Sienna, what the hell are you doing?!” Reid had come out just in time to see it. “Reid! This woman is deceiving you! She’s a gold digger who’s been targeting you from the start! You and your mother have both been fooled!” Sienna held up a stack of printed-out screenshots. They were supposedly chat logs, showing that I had spotted Reid and his expensive car at the park and had been plotting to seduce him the entire time. I saw the familiar profile picture and my heart sank.

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I was the fake daughter of a wealthy family. I had taken the real son’s place. On the day the real son came home, he coldly demanded my parents throw me out. But the moment he saw me, he dropped to his knees. He looked up at me, tears streaming down his face, wailing like a teakettle. “Baby, I’ve finally found you!” My entire family exchanged baffled glances. My body went rigid. This real son… why did he look exactly like the ex-boyfriend I’d dumped? 1. I was in the middle of purchasing a $600,000 diamond brooch, planning to show it off to my parents, when my grandfather called to tell me I wasn’t their biological child. The news hit me like a ton of bricks. My brain shut down. “So… the real son is already at the house?” Grandpa sighed, his voice laced with pity. “I’ve met the boy. He’s a cunning, manipulative little snake. With your simple mind, you won’t be able to win against him.” Leave it to Grandpa to be so brutally honest. I hung up and floored it, racing home. Our housekeeper, Mrs. Gable, opened the door, her expression hesitant as she tried to block my way. “Miss, why are you back so early?” I could hear the cheerful chatter from the living room, punctuated by my mother’s delighted laughter. A cold knot formed in my stomach. As a family of old money and political influence, bloodlines were everything. For the past twenty years, as the family’s only daughter, I’d been groomed to be the heir. They had even arranged a marriage for me to further solidify our family’s standing. But now… Ding! A text message popped up on my phone. [Sloane, let’s meet tomorrow. We need to talk about calling off the engagement.] It was from my fiancé, Bryan Croft, a man I barely ever spoke to. I sighed and typed back a quick “Okay.” I hadn’t even stepped through the door, and the engagement was already being called off. Just as I was about to go inside, I heard the real son’s voice. 2. “Blood is thicker than water, after all,” he said, his voice low and steady, with an undercurrent of cold indifference that was somehow familiar. “It’s only right that she returns to her biological parents. Don’t you agree, Mom, Dad?” My parents hesitated. “But Sloane… she’s been with us for over twenty years…” The real son spoke again. “You’ll get used to it. She has to leave sooner or later, doesn’t she? Or would you rather keep her in the dark and have her resent you in the end?” Grandpa was right. He was a silver-tongued devil, cutting them down with soft words. In just a few sentences, he had completely dismantled my parents’ defenses. “As for her room,” he continued, “we could turn it into a storage room. Out of sight, out of mind.” That was it. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I pushed past the housekeeper and stormed in, my jaw clenched. “Mom, Dad. Do we have a guest?” They saw me and instinctively avoided my gaze, guilt written all over their faces. Finally, my mother steeled herself and took my hand. “Sloane, darling… there’s something we have to tell you. You’re not our biological daughter.” My father quickly pulled the real son to his feet. “This is your brother, Rhys. Why don’t you two get to know each other?” Rhys? My eyelid twitched. A terrible premonition washed over me. The young man slowly turned around, revealing a face so handsome it was etched into my memory forever. I froze, feeling as if I’d been struck by lightning. Wasn’t this the billionaire ex-boyfriend from my study abroad program? The one who had desperately wanted to marry me, the one I had mercilessly dumped? The moment he saw me, Rhys’s aggressive demeanor vanished. His eyes, at first filled with surprise, now shone with an ecstatic joy. They seemed to be glowing with an almost predatory green light. 3. My relationship with Rhys had started with a simple case of lust at first sight. I was on a research program abroad. He was a rising star in the city’s business world, known for his complete disinterest in women. To get his attention, I got a job at his company as his personal assistant. That’s when I realized it wasn’t that Rhys wasn’t interested in women. He was a cold, robotic workaholic with no life outside the office. I tried everything. I wore my sexiest, tightest skirts, used every trick in the book, but his eyes remained glued to his complex financial reports. Finally, one night as I was driving him home, I couldn’t take it anymore. “Boss,” I asked, “don’t you ever want a life outside of work? A nightlife?” Rhys finally deigned to look at me. “For example?” My heart leaped. “Street racing! There’s a race on the west side of the city. Want to go?” Before the “no” could even leave his lips, I slammed my foot on the gas and we were flying. At the track, cars zipped past, a blur of color and sound. Everyone was high on the adrenaline. I stepped out of the car in my pink mini-skirt and impossibly high heels and met Rhys’s gaze. “So, boss? What do you think?” He got out of the car with his usual reserve and draped his jacket over my shoulders. “Not bad.” His words were cool, but his eyes were blazing. The rest happened naturally. We spent our weekends at the races, kissing in fields of roses. Everything was perfect. Until he got down on one knee with a ring and a contract transferring his entire company to my name. That’s when I realized I’d played my hand too well. This ridiculously handsome man was a hopeless romantic. It was just a bit of fun, why did he have to get so serious? Panicked, I told him I was “bored of him,” bought a plane ticket, and flew back home that very night. Back in the present, I stared at Rhys, a storm of complicated emotions swirling inside me. If I had known he was my parents’ biological son, I would have never, ever messed with him. 4. Rhys’s gaze was fixed on me, intense and unwavering. My lip twitched, and I took an involuntary step back. Honestly, I’d rather deal with a stranger than my ex-boyfriend. I decided to play the part of the understanding, mature adult. “Mom, Dad, my brother is right,” I said. “I should probably move out for a while. It’ll give you all a chance to bond.” My mother and Rhys spoke at the same time. “No!” Rhys’s voice was urgent as he rushed forward and grabbed my hand. “Baby, hotels are so dirty these days, and it’s not safe out there. You have so many allergies! What would I do if something happened to you?” He rattled on, leaving my parents completely bewildered. I shot him a furious glare, and he finally calmed down. He cleared his throat with a practiced composure and gestured for my mother to speak. She opened her mouth, only to find that Rhys had already said everything she wanted to say. After a long pause, she managed, “Yes! It’s much more comfortable at home.” I couldn’t resist a sarcastic jab. “Oh, really? I can’t exactly sleep in the storage room, can I?” Rhys’s eyes widened. He looked utterly devastated, as if he might shatter into a million pieces. “Baby, that’s not what I meant, I…” He quickly changed his tune. “I’m the one who wants to sleep in the storage room! It’s small and cozy, and it makes me feel safe. I love it.” My parents were speechless. Was he delirious? As the awkward silence stretched on, Mrs. Gable, ever the pragmatist, grabbed Rhys’s luggage and started up the stairs. “I’ll go get the storage room ready for the young master right now!” I sighed and called after her. “Mrs. Gable, just prepare the third bedroom upstairs.” It was the sunniest, most spacious room in the house. The one Rhys would have always preferred. 5. Sure enough, the moment Rhys heard it was my suggestion, his face lit up. He snatched his bags from Mrs. Gable and practically skipped up the stairs. My parents both let out a sigh of relief. They sat me down on the sofa. My mother explained that she and my biological mother had given birth on the same day and had been placed in the same recovery room. A nurse had mixed up the babies. She also mentioned that my biological parents were not well-off. “Sloane,” she said, “Rhys has had a difficult life. He’s seen very little of the world. Please, be patient with him.” I was stunned. Wait, who was poor? His net worth overseas was in the billions! Then it hit me. Rhys, with his perpetual poker face, was a master manipulator in the world of high finance. He knew how to play people, how to say the right things to get what he wanted. I used to call him the “ice prince snake” behind his back. He was playing the part of the poor, long-lost son to win my parents’ sympathy and get rid of the fake daughter as quickly as possible. He just never imagined that I was that fake daughter. 6. That night, I lay in bed, Rhys’s face haunting my thoughts. Suddenly, my door creaked open. Rhys tiptoed in, holding a washboard, and knelt on it in front of me with a thud. My eye twitched. I got up to pull him to his feet. “What are you doing?” The once cool and composed man was now sobbing like a child. “Baby, I was wrong. I’m so sorry. Please, don’t leave me again. I don’t want the inheritance. I’d do anything for you!” I sighed in exasperation. A year had passed, and he was still the same dramatic mess. I covered his mouth to muffle the sound. “Are you really my parents’ son?” He took the opportunity to clasp my hand. “Yes.” But when I asked about my biological parents, his eyes darted away. All he would say was, “Baby, your parents are street vendors, but they’re not as simple as they seem.” He refused to elaborate further. Annoyed, I pushed him out of the room. A man and a woman alone in a bedroom late at night? It was improper. Rhys left reluctantly, looking back every few steps. He was gone, but I couldn’t sleep a wink. 7. The next day, I drove to the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Bryan. The first thing out of his mouth was that he wanted to cancel the engagement. I agreed without hesitation. It was just a business arrangement; there were no feelings involved. My easy agreement seemed to wound his pride. He looked at me with pity. “Sloane, there’s no need to be heartbroken. Given my status, you’re simply not in my league anymore.” I didn’t have the energy to argue. I stood up to leave. “However,” Bryan added, “my mother said she wouldn’t mind if you were my mistress.” What the—! I stumbled, banging my knee on the table. “Your mother… your mother… she’s quite… open-minded, isn’t she?” Bryan ran a hand through his hair, a greasy, self-satisfied smirk on his face. Before he could continue, a glass of water was thrown in his face. Rhys stood beside me, his face a mask of cold fury. “Get lost,” he snarled. Then, he turned to me, his expression softening as he gently rubbed my knee, murmuring “baby, baby” under his breath. Bryan completely lost it. “Sloane, you cheating bitch! You’re engaged to me, and you have a lover on the side! Just you wait, I’ll tell your parents! I heard the real son wants you out of the house anyway!” Rhys’s eyes widened. He grabbed the pitcher of water from the table and dumped the entire contents on Bryan’s head. “You’re talking nonsense!” he roared. He then looked at me, his eyes wide with panic. “I’m not! I don’t! He’s lying!” Bryan’s face was green with rage. He pointed a trembling finger at us. “Lover… just you wait!” 8. “Baby, your fiancé is an idiot. You should choose me instead.” On the drive home, Rhys wouldn’t stop comparing himself to Bryan. I leaned back in my seat, my eyes closed, occasionally offering a noncommittal “mm-hmm.” My phone had been blowing up with dozens of messages. [Miss Prescott, what’s it like being a fake heiress?] [Wow, the fake heiress has a lover on the side? Classy.] It was obvious Bryan was spreading malicious rumors. The Prescott and Croft families moved in the same circles. A little bit of gossip could spread like wildfire. Exasperated, I turned off my phone and asked Rhys, “Your official welcoming ceremony is this Friday, right?” Rhys nodded, winking at me. “I’m planning a surprise for you at the party, baby.” A surprise? Knowing him, it was more likely to be a disaster. My parents were taking Rhys’s welcoming ceremony very seriously. They had invited all the big names from the city’s elite, determined to pave the way for his success. At the party, I was dressed in a beautiful evening gown, trying to be inconspicuous as I ate my cake. Now that my status as the “fake” daughter was known, people were politely avoiding me. Rhys, however, stuck by my side, dutifully fetching me food. Bryan walked over, a sneer on his face when he saw us together. “Sloane, it’s the Prescott heir’s welcoming party. Aren’t you ashamed to bring your lover here?” His voice was loud, drawing the attention of the surrounding guests. Rhys calmly wiped a bit of cake from the corner of my mouth. “He’s not my lover. He’s my perfectly legitimate husband.” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Bryan’s face turned a deep shade of red. “You’re engaged to me, and you’re cheating on me in public! Just you wait! When the real Prescott heir comes out, I’ll have him throw both of you out!” Rhys just gave him a polite nod, then muttered “idiot” under his breath. Suddenly, there was a stir in the crowd. My parents were making their way towards us. “Rhys, Sloane, come over here!” We walked over to them. The onlookers were starting to look confused. My father beamed, gesturing to Rhys. “This is my son, Rhys Prescott! And this is my daughter, Sloane Prescott!” The crowd was stunned. Bryan looked like he was about to have a stroke. He pointed at us, his face a mask of disbelief. After his announcement, my father handed the microphone to Rhys. Rhys introduced himself with his usual cool demeanor, then his expression softened. “In front of everyone here, I’d like to announce a decision I’ve made. I am giving up my position as the heir to the Prescott family.” The hall fell silent. The only son was renouncing his claim? Who would inherit the family fortune now? All eyes turned to me. My parents were stunned. I was stunned. I tugged on his sleeve and whispered, “Are you crazy? The Prescott name is crucial for your business expansion here.” Rhys just shrugged. “I was only planning to expand my business here to find you anyway.” I was speechless. My parents, ever the optimists, were already tearing up, gushing about how strong the bond between us siblings was. The crowd, however, just thought we were flirting. My father’s expression was complicated, but he quickly accepted the situation. He clapped Rhys on the shoulder and turned to me. “From now on, the future of the Prescott family is in your hands, Sloane!” I cursed Rhys a thousand times in my head. I had finally managed to unload all that responsibility onto him so I could be free, and now it was all back on my plate. And in the crowd, my ex-fiancé, Bryan, had lost all his arrogance. He was looking at me with a new, calculating glint in his eyes.

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My new aroma diffuser was acting up. The mist it puffed out had a faint, milky scent. I complained about it offhandedly, and my husband, Taylor, replied without thinking, “Did you forget to use distilled water? That brand is finicky; it only works with distilled water.” I froze. I’d bought the diffuser in secret, without telling him. How could he know its quirks so precisely? That weekend, I told him I had to work late. Using the GPS tracker in his car, I found my way to a high-end, luxury postnatal care center. I pushed open the door to one of the VIP suites. There, lying in bed, was my own sister, Sara. And on her nightstand was an identical aroma diffuser, puffing out the same milky-scented mist. And my husband, Taylor, was holding a newborn baby, expertly burping it, his eyes filled with a tenderness I’d never seen. 1. “Taylor,” I said, my voice conversational as I leaned against the doorframe of the VIP suite. “You look like a natural holding a baby.” Taylor’s body went rigid. The tiny, wrinkled infant in his arms seemed to sense his tension and let out a soft whimper. In the bed, Sara’s face drained of all color. “Soph… Sophia. What are you doing here?” I ignored her, my gaze locked on Taylor. He turned slowly, forcing a smile that was more painful than a grimace. “Honey… you have to let me explain.” “Explain what?” I walked into the room, the sharp click of my heels echoing on the polished floor. “Explain why you’re here, holding a newborn? Or explain why the mother of this child is my dear sister?” I walked to the bedside and looked at the diffuser on the nightstand, a perfect match to the one in our home. White mist curled into the air, carrying that cloyingly sweet, familiar scent. “Or maybe,” I continued, my voice dangerously soft, “you can explain to me how you know so much about this particular brand of diffuser.” Taylor’s lips trembled, but no words came out. Sara struggled to sit up, tears already streaming down her face like broken pearls. “Sophia, it’s not his fault! It’s all my fault!” she sobbed. “I… I love him! I couldn’t help myself!” She cried so beautifully, a portrait of tragic love. What a classic line. Her words seemed to give Taylor courage. He finally found his voice. “Sophia, it’s come to this. I don’t want to hide it from you anymore. I love Sara. We’re in love. This baby is the proof of our love.” I looked at him, and then I laughed. “In love?” I said. “Taylor, you drive the car I bought you, you live in the house I paid for in full, and you draw a handsome salary from my company. And now, you’re standing here, holding the child you had with my sister, telling me you’re in love? Your capacity for love is truly boundless.” My calmness seemed to enrage him. “What would you know about it?” he snarled. “You’re always so high and mighty! Have you ever once cared about me? All you care about is your work, your company! Sara is different. She’s gentle, she’s considerate. She gives a man the respect and admiration he needs! She’s the one who can give me a real home!” I nodded, the smile on my face widening. “Well said. So that’s your excuse for betraying me and knocking up my sister? Taylor, you’re not just a scumbag. You’re a stupid one.” 2. At that, Sara’s sobs grew louder. “Sophia! Don’t talk to him like that! We’re truly in love! Please, I’m begging you, just let us be together!” Let them be together? The sheer shamelessness of it was almost comical. “Sara, how exactly do you propose I do that? Should I hand over my husband, my house, and my money, and then wish you two a long and happy life together? Did you mistake me for a saint?” Taylor carefully placed the baby in the bassinet and stood before me. The panic in his eyes was gone, replaced by the brazen confidence of a man with nothing left to lose. “Sophia, let’s talk,” he said. “Now that you know, there’s no point in making a scene. It’ll just make things uglier for everyone.” “A scene?” I raised an eyebrow. “Am I making a scene? I just came to visit my sister after she’s given birth, and to meet the man she’s so ‘deeply in love’ with.” Taylor’s face darkened. “Sara just had a baby. She’s weak. Don’t upset her. Just name your price. Whatever compensation you want, I’ll give it to you if I can.” I glanced around the opulent VIP suite, which cost tens of thousands a month. I noted the Patek Philippe on Sara’s wrist; I’d seen the six-figure receipt for it. “Compensation? What could you possibly offer me? Taylor, the clothes on your back, the watch on your wrist—which of those did I not give you? Are you planning to compensate me with my own money?” He was speechless. From the bed, Sara piped up. “Sophia, is money really that important? You already have so much. Why can’t you share a little bit of your happiness with me? I was always sick as a child, so Mom and Dad always doted on me more. You’re used to it, aren’t you? This time… just let me have this one. Can’t you?” She said it so naturally, so matter-of-factly. As if it was my birthright to yield to her, to hand over everything I had. Then Taylor spoke, and his words were like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. “Sophia, Sara’s right. Just take pity on us. The child is innocent. If you agree to a divorce and voluntarily waive your claim to our marital assets, I’ll be willing to let this go. We can still be family.” Let this go? Did I hear him correctly? He was the one who cheated, and now he was offering to forgive me? “Taylor, did a horse kick you in the head?” He seemed taken aback by my response. “Sophia, don’t push it! Do you think I’m still the same broke loser I was three years ago? I’ve worked at your company for three years! I’ve earned my keep! Half of those assets are legally mine anyway! I’m only asking you to give up your half. That’s the most generous offer you’re going to get!” I looked at this shameless pair and suddenly felt that getting angry at them was a waste of my life. I took out my phone and calmly made a call. “Dad, Mom. I need you to come to Metropolis General right away. Your wonderful daughter just gave me a nephew.” 3. My parents arrived quickly. When they burst through the door and saw a weakened Sara in the bed and Taylor standing beside her, my mother’s tears started instantly. She rushed over and grabbed Sara’s hand. “Sara! My poor, foolish girl! How could you be so reckless!” My father glared at Taylor, his lips trembling with rage. “Taylor! You animal! How did our family ever wrong you?” Taylor hung his head, adopting the posture of a man ready to accept any punishment. Sara began to sob. “Dad, Mom, I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. I love him. I truly can’t live without him. Blame me, don’t blame him.” She coughed weakly between sobs, looking as if she might faint at any moment. My mother’s heart immediately went out to her. She turned and glared at me. “Sophia! What are you just standing there for? Look at the state your sister is in! Are you trying to kill her with stress?” I watched this farce with cold eyes. “Mom, let’s be clear. I’m the one who was cheated on, not her. What does she have to be upset about? She’s the winner here.” “You!” my mother sputtered, pointing at me. “How can you talk to your sister like that? She’s your own flesh and blood! Can’t you just give in to her for once? The baby is already here, what more do you want?” My father sighed, his tone softening. “Sophia, your mother is right. What’s done is done. We need to find a solution. Taylor made a mistake, but for the baby’s sake…” I cut him off. “Dad, are you asking me to be the fool who pays for all of this? To accept my husband’s and my sister’s betrayal, and then raise their child? All because Sara has been weak and whiny since she was a child, so the entire world has to bow to her every whim?” A flicker of embarrassment crossed my father’s face. “That’s not what I meant…” “Then what did you mean?” Just then, Taylor spoke up. “Dad, Mom, don’t blame Sophia. This is mostly my fault.” With a thud, he dropped to his knees before my parents. “I’m not human! I betrayed your trust, and I betrayed Sophia! But my feelings for Sara are real! I beg you, please, let us be together!” That one move completely turned the tide. My mother rushed to help him up. “Oh, you silly boy, get up! The floor is cold!” She wiped her tears and looked at me, her eyes pleading. “Sophia, look, Taylor is already so remorseful. Men… they all have their moments of weakness. Can’t you just forgive him this one time? For the sake of a happy, peaceful family?” A happy family? I looked at the three of them—Taylor, Sara, and my mother—and the irony was suffocating. In their eyes, I was the outsider. Taylor and Sara exchanged a quick, triumphant glance. They knew they had won. As long as my biased parents were on their side, I could never win against them. Looking at them, the last shred of hope I had for this family withered and died. 4. Seeing that my parents were now firmly in his camp, Taylor grew bolder. He cleared his throat and revealed their true objective. “Dad, Mom, Sara and I have talked about this. We’re not asking for much. We just hope that Sophia, for the baby’s sake, can help us out.” My mother immediately took the bait. “How? Just tell us! We’ll do whatever we can!” “Sophia holds thirty percent of the company’s shares in her name, right?” Taylor’s eyes glinted with greed. “We were hoping… she could transfer those shares to the baby’s name. As a… gift for her nephew.” “What?” Even my father was shocked. “Thirty percent? Taylor, are you insane? That’s nearly half the company’s assets!” “Dad, how is that insane?” Sara said, her voice frail. “I’m thinking of Sophia’s well-being. It must be so exhausting for a woman to run such a big company all by herself. If Taylor manages the shares for her, she’ll have so much more free time to enjoy her life.” “Exactly, Dad,” Taylor chimed in. “And this is for the good of the family. I’ll run the company well. I guarantee I’ll take it to the next level!” They were a well-rehearsed duo, acting as if my shares were already theirs. My mother was actually hesitating, as if seriously considering their proposal. “Sophia, what do you think…” I looked at the faces of the people who were supposed to be my family—their greed, their bias, their foolishness all on clear display. And I laughed. Not a cold smirk or a scornful chuckle, but a genuine, heartfelt, liberating laugh. They were all stunned into silence. “What are you laughing at?” Taylor frowned. I stopped laughing and glanced at the time on my phone. Then I looked up at them and began to count down slowly. “Three.” “Two.” “One.” As the word left my lips, the suite door was thrown open. Several uniformed police officers and my lawyer, Miles Vance, strode into the room.

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The day I returned to my birth parents, the fake heiress held a knife to her throat. “I’m a person, not your puppet! Stop controlling me! Do you need me dead to be happy?” she screamed. “Force me into marriage again, and I’ll make you front-page news!” She spun dramatically, pausing near me. “Now that your real daughter’s back, go suck the life out of her!” Furious, my father slammed a leather document on the table: The Beaumont Legacy Agreement. “To be our daughter,” he growled, “sign this lifetime contract.” My hands shook as I read it: I. Tai Chi with Grandpa at 6 AM. Reward: $10,000/session. II. Never speak to unsavory people near parents. Reward: $1M/day. III. Compliment your brother 10 times daily. Reward: $10,000/each. Isabelle laughed from the doorway. “You actually want this puppet life—” I snatched a pen and signed boldly. “Ten compliments? How about a hundred? I’ll even throw some in for Mom, Dad, and Grandpa!” 1 “Are you insane? That’s an indenture contract! Once you sign it, you’ll never be able to leave the Beaumont family!” Isabelle whirled back around, shocked by my sycophantic tone. “I’ve already lived twenty years in this suffocating prison,” she declared. “And you people won’t even spare your own flesh and blood, who just got here? Are you monsters?!” With that, she snatched the papers from my hand and ripped them to shreds with a vicious shrrriiip. My heart sank. Judging by her tortured expression, you’d think her life for the past eighteen years had been worse than mine—and I’d spent them scrounging through trash cans. My father slammed his fist on the table with a deafening crack. My mother looked at Isabelle, her face etched with pain. “You wear Chanel, you’re driven in a Rolls-Royce, you dine on foie gras and lobster, and your monthly allowance is five million dollars. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me that your life is ‘suffocating’.” Isabelle rolled her eyes, retorting without a shred of gratitude, “Did I ask for any of that? You forced it all on me. Do you really think I’ve been happy all these years?” Grandfather struck the marble floor with his cane. “Get out! If you insist on leaving with this gutter rat, then from this day on, the Beaumont family no longer has a daughter named Isabelle!” The “gutter rat” in question, a boy named Leo, clenched his fists, his eyes burning with humiliation. “What’s that supposed to mean? You think you’re better than me?” My brother let out a cold snort. That only enraged Leo further, but before he could launch into some cliché speech about the poor rising up against the rich, the security guards arrived and began escorting him out. Isabelle threw herself in front of him. “What are you doing? Leo can go wherever he wants! This is a violation of his personal freedom!” “Isabelle, let’s go,” Leo said, grabbing her arm. “One day, they’ll regret what they did today!” As he pulled her away, she made one last appeal to me. “Aren’t you coming? Are you really going to sell your freedom for a little bit of dirty money? To become a pawn in their marriage games?” All eyes in the room turned to me. Terrified my new sugar daddies might misunderstand, I immediately declared my allegiance. “Isabelle, you have no idea what you’re talking about. This family raised you with everything you could ever want, and you throw it back in their faces. If anyone’s suffocating here, it’s Mom, Dad, my brother, and Grandpa!” Isabelle trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my nose. “I try to help you, and this is the thanks I get.” “Aurora Beaumont! You’ll regret not listening to me!” 2 I watched her leave with a blank expression, but inside, I was mourning the one million dollars she’d just torn to pieces. My mother dabbed the corner of her eye and slipped a lustrous jade bracelet from her own wrist. “My dear child,” she said softly. “We were just so frightened by Isabelle’s behavior. We never truly intended to force you to sign anything.” She placed the heavy, cool bracelet on my wrist. “This is a welcome home gift from your mother. Please, keep it.” My father waved his hand dismissively and handed me a black card. “Take it. Spend what you want. Just don’t end up like that ungrateful brat.” My brother produced a stack of property deeds and several sets of luxury car keys. Not to be outdone, Grandfather had the butler bring out a prepared portfolio of stock transfer agreements. I stared at the mountain of wealth in my hands, and my eyes began to well up. They were completely caught off guard by my reaction, and panic flickered across their faces. Mother immediately turned on Father. “This is all your fault! Did you have to shove a contract in her face? Look, you’ve scared our daughter to tears!” Father shot her a wounded look but wisely kept his mouth shut. My brother asked nervously, “Do you… do you feel suffocated too?” I quickly shook my head, wiping my eyes. “No, it’s not Dad’s fault. I just… I never imagined you would all be so kind to me…” The tears started falling again. All those years I was lost, I had grown used to fighting. Fighting for a bite of meat. Fighting for a new set of underwear. Fighting for the chance to learn. I had never dreamed that there were things in this world you didn’t have to fight for, things your family would simply place in your hands. And Isabelle… she had enjoyed the life that should have been mine for twenty years, and now she had the audacity to claim she had suffered in my place. Fine. Let’s just see how long her precious “freedom” lasts. 3 Perhaps because I grew up starved for affection, any small kindness shown to me made me want to repay it tenfold. I decided to use the money I had saved over the years to buy them all gifts. But in my excitement, I accidentally sent a link for an online group buy to the family group chat. Oh, god. They’re going to think I’m so tacky. I was about to retract the message, but in the next second, my bank account balance exploded with new zeroes. Grandfather: [My dear granddaughter wants to start a business? Here’s a hundred million to practice with.] The others immediately followed suit, wiring me staggering amounts of money. My jaw dropped. They were definitely my real family. Still, I transferred the money back, trying to explain my embarrassing mistake. That only made them send even more. Mother: [Such a good girl. Definitely our blood. That other one… we raised her for twenty years and never saw a dime back.] She then sent a video. I opened it to see my father, bundled up in his blankets, sobbing his eyes out. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. These were my people. I settled in quickly. I no longer had to worry about where my next meal was coming from or fight with anyone over scraps. I was like a sponge, soaking up all the knowledge my family and the tutors they hired could provide. My only job was to learn. They paved the way for everything else. Mother personally coached me in etiquette and social graces. Father cultivated my taste in the finer things. In just one month, I transformed from an ugly duckling into a swan. Isabelle, who had somehow gotten my number, kept trying to convince me to leave. When she learned that the family was pouring all their resources into my education, she just scoffed. [So naive. You think they’re doing this for your own good? They’re just fattening you up for slaughter, getting a better price for you on the marriage market!] I ignored her, but the family found out about the messages. Terrified I would misunderstand, Mother called an emergency family meeting. Father tripped over himself to explain. Grandfather was ready to call off the engagement on the spot. My brother insisted that my opinion was the only one that mattered. But I knew this marriage was about more than just me; it was a long-term strategic alliance between two powerful families. More importantly, I trusted my family. They weren’t the monsters Isabelle made them out to be. “I’m willing,” I said, my voice clear and steady. “I trust Mom and Dad’s judgment.” My compliance only seemed to deepen their guilt. And as a result, my dowry grew even larger. 4 Before the wedding, my brother took me to a high-end jeweler to add to my dowry. An endless sea of glittering gems was laid out before me, all for the choosing. Even after a month of immersion in this new world, my eyes instinctively darted to the price tags. So. Many. Zeros. The old me couldn’t have afforded a single one of these even if I collected plastic bottles for three hundred years. Just then, Isabelle’s shrill voice cut through the quiet elegance of the boutique. “What do you mean I can’t just take it? I always used to!” The sales associate maintained her professional smile with visible effort. “Miss Beaumont, previously your purchases were billed directly to the Beaumont estate. However, Mr. Beaumont personally called last week to cancel the account.” “Your total comes to one hundred and fifty-six thousand dollars. Will that be cash or card?” Isabelle froze. To make matters worse, she was surrounded by the very same socialites she used to compete with. “Well, well, look how the mighty have fallen.” “I heard she gave up her position as the Beaumont heiress voluntarily. I bet she’s regretting it now.” Isabelle’s face flushed a deep, humiliated crimson. To save face, she turned to Leo, her voice a desperate whine. “Honey, I haven’t been able to dress up at all since I left with you. Won’t you buy this for me?” Leo glanced at the price tag, and his face paled. He forced a smile and patted her head. “Sweetheart, you don’t need to dress up. You’re the most beautiful woman in the world to me. These are just useless rocks. They’re not worth the price. Only an idiot would buy them!” Isabelle’s face fell, a look of confusion in her eyes. “$156,000 is a lot? I never used to look at prices when I shopped.” The more she thought about it, the more she wanted it. As if to prove to her old friends that she was still doing just fine, she planted herself in front of the counter and refused to move. Then, she spotted us. Her eyes lit up. “Brother! What are you doing here?” She latched onto his arm, reverting to her old habits. “Brother, they’re all laughing at me! I want this! Pay for it!” My brother coolly detached her hand from his arm. “Isabelle, you are no longer my sister. Aurora is my only sister.” She stared at him, stunned. She couldn’t seem to comprehend that the brother who had doted on her for twenty years could say something so cold. Leo pulled Isabelle to his side. “Ignore him. Who does he think he is with all his money? We don’t need him.” Isabelle pouted. “But I want it~” Unable to reason with her, Leo pulled out his phone, took a picture of the necklace, and ordered a cheap knock-off from an app. “There. Happy now?” “That’s not the same! Forget it, my brother adores me. He’ll buy it!” She turned back to my brother. “Brother, I’m being the bigger person and talking to you, and you’re still mad? If you keep this up, I’ll really disown you! Now, hurry up and pay for this, or I’ll never speak to you again!” My brother just laughed. “We’ve already severed ties. What you want has nothing to do with me.” Isabelle glared at him, her face a mask of disbelief. “You’re really going to be this cruel? Are you using this to try and force me to come home? Well, I won’t give in!” “Think whatever you want.” My brother walked past her and turned to me, his voice warm again. “Aurora, if you can’t decide, we’ll just have the staff pack up all of them.” I maintained a graceful smile, but inside I was screaming. AAAAAAAH! THIS IS INSANE! 5 My fiancé, the crown prince of the city’s elite circle, Damian Sterling, was a workaholic. His startup had just gone public, and he was so busy he didn’t even have time to meet his own wife-to-be. I didn’t mind one bit. Not only was he drop-dead gorgeous, but he was more than willing to flex his financial muscle. My walk-in closet was overflowing with priceless jewelry, designer clothes, and handbags. I secretly hoped he would work overtime every day. Somehow, news of our unconventional romance leaked and went viral. The internet was buzzing with envy over our “fairytale” love story. Naturally, Isabelle found out. She called me immediately, her voice dripping with pity. “Aurora, this is all my fault. My selfish decision to run away has condemned you to this fate. Don’t worry, I will save you!” Her nonsensical declaration left me so baffled that I immediately went online and ordered several spiritual cleansing kits. But she was relentless, haunting me right up until my wedding day. On the day of my wedding, Isabelle was also getting married. I have no idea where she got the money, but she rented a small hall right next to our grand ballroom. Across the corridor, I saw her in a wedding dress that was yellowing with age. I stood in my custom-made haute couture gown. She showed no signs of shame, only looking at me with pity, as if she was certain my life was a living hell. Just as Damian and I were about to exchange rings, she burst into the room, a strange man in tow. “Stop this wedding!” The dreamy music screeched to a halt. All heads turned to her. Isabelle pointed an accusatory finger at my parents. “This wedding is nothing but a business transaction! They are sacrificing their own daughter’s happiness for profit!” “They only brought Aurora back because I refused to be their pawn! All they care about is money, not family!” She turned to me, her voice ringing with passion. “Aurora, we women deserve to be free! To marry the person we love!” As she spoke, she managed to squeeze out a few tears for dramatic effect. Our guests were too high-class to gossip openly, but the damage was done. We were a laughingstock. Grandfather clutched his chest, sinking into his chair. My parents’ faces were ashen. Before they could speak, Isabelle pushed a red-haired punk in front of me. “You and your boyfriend deserve to be happy together. Don’t worry about me. Go, run away and find your true love!” Wait, since when was this guy my boyfriend? I looked at her self-sacrificing expression, as if this pock-faced redhead, who was shorter than me even with lifts in his shoes, was some kind of prize. “Let’s go, Aurora,” the redhead said, reaching for me with a hand covered in some unidentifiable grime. “I’ll take care of you from now on.” “Who are you? Do I know you?” I said, desperate to distance myself from him before my billionaire husband got the wrong idea. But Isabelle seemed deaf, lost in her own heroic fantasy. “Aurora, you don’t have to pretend to be strong anymore. This is all my fault. I am willing to take your place in this gilded cage!” She ripped the million-dollar pearls from my veil, sending them scattering across the floor like marbles. She snatched the microphone from the officiant. “Everyone here is a witness!” she declared. “Damian Sterling, all you want is the Beaumont family’s shipping port shares, right? It doesn’t matter who you marry!” She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself for a great sacrifice. “Fine, Damian Sterling, you win!” she shouted. “I agree to marry you!”

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1 At eighteen, my father’s gambling debts got me sold on a black market in a city of sin. I was bought by a trust-fund brat with a gambling addiction. When his chips ran out, he’d use one of us girls as collateral. But when someone pointed at me, he pulled me back. “Not this one. I’m keeping her.” His greasy hands gripped my chin as he dragged me toward a suite, tearing my dress. Just as I felt hell closing in, a cold voice cut through: “I’ll take her.” The kid turned to argue but froze at the gun against his forehead. “Two choices: leave her and your debt is cleared, or die.” Sweating, he released me and fled like a rat. My savior was Lian Lynn—owner of Elysium Club and the shadow empire behind it, the uncrowned king of this city. For ten years, I became his sharpest blade. By day, he trained me in combat and finance; by night, he was an insatiable presence in my bed, sometimes showing a flicker of tenderness. Until this morning. He watched me as the sun rose, his voice cold: “Next Monday, go to Elysium’s presidential suite. Drug George Williamson. Take care of him.” He continued, “I’m bringing Celeste. Once she sees what George is capable of, she’ll finally agree to our engagement.” My heart plummeted. Lian dressed with slow, deliberate movements, his immaculate suit erasing every trace of the previous night’s madness. It was a barrier, sealing away the fragile warmth we’d shared. He straightened his tie, his voice as cool and cruel as a winter morning. “Celeste can’t stand filth. She has a zero-tolerance policy for anything dirty.” “Only by seeing the man she loves debase himself will she give up on him completely and come back to me.” Celeste Bancroft. The sole heiress to the Bancroft fortune and the woman Lian had worshipped from afar for over a decade. The one he could never have. But Celeste only had eyes for Lian’s mortal enemy, George Williamson. Lian had made George’s life a living hell in the business world because of it. Once, when Celeste found out, she stormed into a Lynn family gala and slapped Lian across the face in front of everyone. He hadn’t gotten angry. He’d simply gone to the casino to drown his sorrows. That was the night he’d stumbled upon me, moments from being assaulted, and played the part of the hero. Over the years, he showered me with gifts. Any new designer dress or piece of jewelry Celeste was seen with, he would buy two—one for her, one for me. At a charity gala last year, some spoiled heir had dared to touch my chin. Lian broke the man’s arm on the spot and had him thrown out. His grandfather, the old patriarch, was furious and invoked the family’s harsh disciplinary code. Lian was whipped until his eyes were rimmed red, but he shielded me with his own body the entire time. “The next person who touches my woman,” he’d growled, “I’ll burn their entire family to the ground.” From that day on, everyone knew. Aria Stellan was the apple of Lian Lynn’s eye. Sometimes, his men would jokingly call me “Ma’am.” He’d hear them but never correct them, offering only a silent, sidelong glance. After a while, even I started to believe the illusion. That maybe I was different to him. That maybe, if things continued this way, one day… But in this single moment, the fantasy shattered. I was nothing more than a tainted tool, used to provoke the woman he truly loved. A sharp, cold pain seized my heart, jolting me back to reality. I took the small packet of powder he offered me, my face a mask of indifference. “Understood.” Lian’s hands paused on his cufflinks. He reached out to touch my hair. “If you really don’t want to do this, I can find someone else…” I subtly shifted away from his touch. “I can do it.” His hand hovered in the air for a moment. He studied my face, then gave a nonchalant nod. He picked up a comb and began to expertly smooth my long hair, his fingers occasionally brushing the nape of my neck with a familiar, electrifying touch. “Remember,” his voice was a low murmur, mingling with the soft rasp of the comb through my hair, “it’s all an act. Don’t let any other man actually take advantage of you.” When he was finished, he turned me by the shoulders to face him, his eyes meeting mine. His tone was like a king bestowing a gift. “When this is done, you can ask for anything you want.” I looked at his handsome face and managed a faint smile. “Alright. Thank you, Mentor.” I had called him Mentor since the day he took me in. After we became intimate, the title had slowly faded from my vocabulary. Saying it now felt like stepping back into a distant past. As I was about to leave, he called my name. “Aria.” I turned. His expression was unreadable. “Are you in love with someone? Is it Jax?” Jax was his most trusted personal aide. My heart sank. He didn’t wait for my answer. “That kid has been stealing glances at you lately. If you feel the same way, just tell me. Your mentor will prepare a generous dowry for you. I won’t let you be wronged.” Ten years of devotion, and this was the chasm that still lay between us. Worlds apart. I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked down, forcing a smile. “Okay.” Perhaps it was guilt. The next day, Lian personally fastened a limited-edition diamond necklace, freshly delivered, around my neck. Then, he drove me to the airport to pick up Celeste, who was returning from her trip abroad early. Celeste emerged from the terminal looking utterly distraught and threw herself into Lian’s arms. “George won’t answer my calls! How could he do this to me?” Her eyes swept over me, landing on the necklace. Without a word, she reached out and violently yanked it from my neck. The sharp clasp slashed my skin. A hot sting followed, and beads of blood welled up on the surface. In the past, Lian would have lost his mind if anyone had so much as touched a hair on my head. Now, he merely glanced at my bleeding neck before wrapping an arm around Celeste, pulling her into a protective embrace. His voice was softer than I’d ever heard it. “You still have me, don’t you?” Celeste shoved him away. “You can’t help me! I want George!” Lian didn’t seem fazed by her rejection. He simply smiled. “Chasing a man requires brains, Celeste. Throwing yourself at him just makes you look cheap.” His gaze shifted to me. “George collects antique watches. Your eye for them is impeccable. Go to my vault, pick out a rare piece, and send it to him in Miss Bancroft’s name.” For the first time, Celeste actually looked at me, her eyes raking over my body with unconcealed scorn. “So this is the little mistress you keep?” She scoffed. “That necklace was released yesterday, and it’s on her neck today. You’re so generous, Lian.” Lian raised an eyebrow. “If you like it, it’s yours.” Celeste’s face twisted in disgust. She threw the necklace to the ground and ground the diamonds under her high heel. “It’s filthy. Who wants something she’s worn?” Lian just ruffled her hair. “She’s not a mistress. She’s just an employee. Someone to handle my dirty work.” He looked back at Celeste. “From now on, if you have any problems, feel free to use her however you see fit.” Hearing this, the very same men who used to call me “Ma’am” with a mix of fear and respect now looked at me with pity, and a flicker of contempt they didn’t bother to hide. I realized then that the illusion of his affection, the pedestal he had put me on, had just been shattered into a million irreparable pieces. … I arrived at George Williamson’s penthouse office with an priceless antique watch in hand. His bodyguards tried to stop me, but I put them on the floor in a matter of seconds. Unlike Lian’s domineering and aggressive aura, George was something else entirely. He looked more like a cool, refined scholar, with eyes that were sharp but serene. There was no trace of the bloodthirsty monster from the rumors. When he saw it was me, his features softened, and a hint of a smile touched his lips. “Well, well. Did Lian send you to cause trouble again, little bird?” I recited my lines mechanically. “Mr. Williamson, Miss Bancroft just returned from her trip…” I placed the gift box on his desk. “This is a token of her affection.” He put down his pen, rose from his chair, and walked to a safe in the corner of the room, retrieving a small velvet box. “Is that a return gift for Miss Bancroft?” I asked, reaching to take it. But instead, he opened it to reveal a string of lustrous, warm pearls. “For you.” He walked over and, without asking, fastened the necklace around my neck. His cool fingertips brushed against the cut on my skin. “There. That should cover it.” I froze for a second. After he returned to his desk, I steadied myself and got to the point. “Mr. Williamson, about the gala at Elysium next Monday… you will be attending, won’t you?” He looked up, his gaze deep and penetrating. “I will.” He paused, then added, “But I’d rather see you.” My heart leaped into my throat. I hastily lowered my head, muttered, “I’ll see myself out,” and fled his office. When I returned to Lian’s office, he stood up the moment I walked in. “What took you so long? He didn’t give you a hard time, did he?” His eyes fell to the pearl necklace around my neck, and his expression instantly turned to ice. “What is that?” I looked down. “Mr. Williamson gave it to me—” Before I could finish, Lian lunged forward and ripped the necklace from my neck. Pearls scattered across the floor, rolling in every direction. The wound on my skin stung anew. “Name his price. I’ll pay him back tenfold!” Lian’s voice was dangerously low. “My people don’t wear gifts from other men.” I stared at him, a profound confusion washing over me. Wasn’t this what he wanted? For me to get close to George, to seduce him? When I got back to the villa, all of my belongings had been removed from my bedroom and piled in a corner of the living room. Lian’s tone was flat. “Celeste is staying for a few days. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea seeing your things, so I had them packed for you.” He handed me a key card. “You can stay in the penthouse suite at the Elysium Hotel. It’s quiet there.” I took the card and silently began stuffing my scattered possessions into a suitcase. He stood behind me, watching for a while, before crouching down and wrapping his arms around me from behind. His warm breath ghosted over my ear, carrying a familiar, suggestive heat. My body went rigid. Without turning, I said softly, “Mentor, Miss Bancroft should be back soon.” He froze. After a long moment, he let me go and stood up. His voice returned to its usual calm, though it was laced with a barely perceptible thread of irritation. “George Williamson is a devious bastard. Remember, it’s just an act. Don’t let him actually touch you.” … The gala on Monday was a glittering affair, the air thick with champagne and whispers. I found George easily. When he saw me, the corner of his mouth curved into a smile that held more genuine warmth than the ones he gave to others. His eyes dropped to my bare neck. “Where’s the necklace?” I looked away. “I forgot to wear it…” He reached out, his fingers gently tracing the still-healing cut on my skin. The touch was cool, and I flinched involuntarily. The moment was perfect. I held out the doctored glass of wine. He took it, his eyes seeming to see right through me. “You really want me to drink this?” A tremor went through me. I suppressed my panic and nodded. He didn’t hesitate again. He tilted his head back and drained the glass. The drug worked fast. His eyes grew hazy, his skin flushed, and his breathing became heavy. He draped an arm around my shoulders, his voice a low rasp. “I’m feeling a little dizzy. Help me upstairs.” I did as I was told, guiding him through the sea of curious, suggestive gazes toward the presidential suite on the top floor. By the time I laid him on the bed, he was losing control, his breath coming in hot pants. I looked at his face, flushed with drug-induced desire, and suddenly felt lost. In that moment of hesitation, his eyes flew open. They were no longer hazy but churning with a terrifying intensity. He yanked me down onto the bed, trapping me in his scorching embrace. In that instant, I saw the ruthless predator the rumors had always described. I struggled instinctively, but he held me fast. “Aria…” His kiss crashed down on me, demanding and possessive, fiercer and more consuming than anything I had ever known with Lian. He felt like he was trying to devour me whole. But strangely, while his grip was iron-strong, his movements held a certain restraint, as if he were terrified of hurting me. This tenderness hidden within the storm of his passion was more unnerving than pure brutality. I thought of Lian’s command. Of Celeste’s disgusted glare. Of the fact that I was nothing more than a disposable tool. So be it. This would be my final payment for the ten years of shelter Lian had given me. After this, we would be even. My body, which had been coiled tight with tension, finally went limp. I closed my eyes, letting myself be swept away, sinking into the unfamiliar tide. Consciousness ebbed and flowed. I don’t know how much time passed before the storm subsided. The man beside me, seemingly still not fully lucid, gently kissed the corner of my eye with a rare, dependent vulnerability. And then— BANG! The suite door was kicked open from the outside.

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My CEO husband loved bringing his friends home for dinner. He said it made our house feel more like a home. As they surveyed the feast I’d prepared, one of his buddies grinned. “You’ve got a good one, boss. A real first lady. Classy.” I kept my expression neutral, offering a lighthearted jab in return. “Oh? Does that mean there’s a less classy second lady somewhere?” The men froze, a flash of panic in their eyes. But my husband, Joseph Anders, just laughed and slung an arm around my shoulders. “Don’t listen to these idiots. Besides you, who else in this world could possibly be my wife?” I smiled back at his flawless performance. Then, as I turned to leave the room, I dialed a number. “Henry,” I said quietly, “Joseph is cheating. It’s time to burn him to the ground.” 1 My brother was silent for a long three seconds. “Ava, are you sure? Joseph wouldn’t…” I twisted the wedding band off my finger, the diamond digging into my palm. “For ten years, every single one of his cufflinks has been custom-made for him in Italy by my design.” “Today, he’s wearing a cheap plastic flower,” I said, my voice flat. “Does that sound like a mistake to you?” “You know I don’t tolerate betrayal. Release everything you have on him. And get me the best divorce lawyer you can find.” “Done,” Henry said, his voice tight with fury. Thirty minutes later, an encrypted file appeared on my phone. The first photo was of a young woman in a crisp white shirt, smiling radiantly as she clung to a man’s arm. On the wrist peeking out from the cuff was a wolf’s head tattoo—an exact match to Joseph’s. I didn’t hesitate. I drove straight to his office. A few minutes later, a young woman with long, straight black hair and wearing a simple white dress hurried out to meet me. Her name tag read Kayla Summers. The moment she saw me, the color drained from her face. She instinctively hid her hands behind her back. But not before I saw it: the bespoke Swiss watch on her wrist. Last year, for my birthday, a charge had appeared on our shared account from a jeweler in Switzerland. A three-hundred-thousand-dollar watch, and a five-thousand-dollar necklace. The necklace was nestled safely in my jewelry box at home. The watch was on her wrist. A humorless laugh escaped my lips. “Your husband has remarkably similar taste to mine, Miss Summers. Even down to the design of a custom-made watch.” Kayla trembled, her lips parting and closing several times before she stammered, “Oh… I guess… men just have similar tastes.” Her knuckles were white where she gripped the fabric of her dress. “Alright, you can drop the act,” I said, my voice sharp. “You’re the ‘second lady’ they were talking about, aren’t you?” My directness made her flinch. She looked like she was about to fall apart. “You’ve misunderstood! Mr. Anders just… he had a low blood sugar episode, and I helped him. That’s all. His friends were just joking. They said I was very attentive. I’m so sorry for the misunderstanding.” She punctuated her apology with a dramatic, ninety-degree bow. She played the part of the innocent, wronged victim perfectly. If I hadn’t already seen the evidence of her calculated seduction, I might have even believed her. Two weeks ago, she had posted a video online. A man, seen from the back, was swiping a credit card at a Porsche dealership. Her caption read: A man’s love is wherever his money is. At that exact moment, I had been at home, delirious with a fever so high I’d passed out. I’d called Joseph, begging him to take me to the hospital. He’d sounded panicked for a second, but then his voice became strained, as if he were trying to suppress something. “Honey, I’ll have the housekeeper take you. I’m in the middle of something urgent here.” An hour later, I was being treated for pneumonia in the emergency room. Meanwhile, she posted a photo of herself reclining in a new car, a man’s chiseled, six-pack abs in the foreground, dotted with tell-tale red marks. Her caption: This new car and you will forever bear my mark. When Joseph finally arrived at the hospital, his shirt was still unbuttoned. He had rushed to my bedside, his eyes red. At the time, in my naivety, I thought he was worried about me. Now I knew it was just the guilt of a man fresh from his lover’s bed. A wave of nausea washed over me. This was the woman he had betrayed me for. I couldn’t stand to look at her pathetic, doe-eyed expression any longer. I turned and walked away. But as soon as I got to my car, my phone rang. It was Joseph. The moment I answered, his voice was laced with anxiety. “What were you doing at the office?” 2 “Why?” I started the car, my voice calm. “I was just in the area for a meeting. Is there something you were afraid I’d see?” He clearly hadn’t expected that. His breath hitched. After a few seconds of silence, his tone softened into the familiar, cajoling purr he always used to win me over. “Honey, what are you talking about? I have nothing to hide. The office is just a mess, that’s all. If I’d known you were coming, I would have had it cleaned up.” He added, with a convincing laugh, “Besides, you know I would never betray you. You can check anything you want.” I paused. So, Kayla hadn’t told him I’d confronted her. I scrolled through the evidence my brother had sent as he continued his performance. Three gigabytes of files, a detailed chronicle of his affair. Last Valentine’s Day, he had claimed to be on a business trip overseas where he couldn’t call. In reality, he and Kayla were in the Arctic, watching the Northern Lights. When my father was on his deathbed, I had called Joseph thirty times. He hadn’t answered a single one. He was at Kayla’s birthday party. “I believe you,” I said smoothly. “But what about the watch?” He seemed relieved that I’d brought it up. He lowered his voice, creating an illusion of intimacy. “Oh, that. I had a dizzy spell at the office, and Kayla happened to be there. She took me to the hospital.” He paused for effect. “She stayed with me all night. The watch was just a thank-you gift. I must have forgotten to mention it.” Forgotten. Right. He must have also forgotten to mention the three nights they’d spent in the penthouse suite of the hotel attached to the hospital. I suppressed a bitter laugh. “She is attentive, isn’t she? She even washed and ironed the black shirt you were wearing that day and had it sent back the next morning.” There was a distinct pause on his end, a missed beat in his breathing, before he chuckled again. “Yeah, she’s a thoughtful girl. You see? You’re always so suspicious. You know you’re the only one for me.” His voice was a silken whisper. “As soon as this project is over, I’ll take you to the Maldives. Just the two of us. How does that sound?” His tenderness had once been my weakness. Now, it just made my stomach turn. “Sounds wonderful,” I said, my voice as flat and distant as the city lights blurring past my window. “But you should focus on your work for now. Don’t let me distract you.” “Nothing is more important than you,” he insisted, his tone thick with a desperate sincerity that only made my heart grow colder. It wasn’t just the betrayal that hurt. It was the fact that they had been playing me for a fool for so long, right under my nose. My grip on the steering wheel tightened. I fought the urge to drive straight to him and expose everything. Not yet. I wanted to hear him admit it himself. Then, I would ruin them both. After a few more empty promises, I hung up. A moment later, Kayla’s social media pinged with a new post. It was a video of her in an elaborate, diamond-encrusted wedding gown, a triumphant smile lighting up her face. Her caption read: Another mistress tried to cause trouble today, but my man put her in her place. He’s finally going to make me his wife to make up for it! The video continued. I mentioned I wanted a castle wedding, so he bought me a whole castle! The camera panned casually over a deed of ownership. And all these vineyards! He wants me to manage them! Can you believe it? Little old me! But he promised he’d come with me to establish my authority, so people won’t take advantage of me! I saw my own name, written in elegant French script, on the deed in the video. My blood went from cold to boiling in a second. Those vineyards were a coming-of-age gift from my brother. And Joseph was using them to impress his mistress. Fine. They wanted to establish her authority? Let’s see how they managed that with the true owner of the vineyards standing right in front of them. 3 I was on a flight to France that night. At the vineyard, the old groundskeeper was surprised to see me. “Madame! What brings you here? Weren’t you lending the estate to Monsieur for a party today? He had the entire staff cleared out.” A fresh wave of rage washed over me. Before I could answer, my phone rang. It was Joseph. “Honey, I’m in a multinational conference call. I’ll fly back to you as soon as I’m done.” Before I could reply, I heard a sickly-sweet female voice in the background. “Joseph, darling, does this look good on me?” The line went muffled as he moved away. “Gotta go. Meeting’s starting.” At that moment, the ornate gates of the vineyard swung open. A procession of luxury cars pulled up to the fountain. I watched as a crowd of strangers, none of whom I recognized, were seated at elegantly dressed tables. I found an inconspicuous spot in the back. Once everyone was settled, Kayla made her grand entrance in a fiery red designer gown, the very picture of a smug victor. “For those of you who don’t know me,” she announced, her voice ringing with false modesty, “I am Kayla Summers, the new owner of this estate.” “Mr. Anders has made it clear that from now on, the wine, the castle, even every single grape in this vineyard, belongs to me!” “To celebrate, all wine is 70% off for tonight only. A little welcome gift from me to you.” 70% off? How generous of her. The cheapest bottle of wine produced here cost over a hundred thousand dollars. Some were rare vintages that even the British royal family had to negotiate for. The groundskeeper, who had known me since I was a child, was practically vibrating with fury. “When did this estate become hers?! And that man… he’s cheating on you, Madame! Does he have a death wish?” I put a restraining hand on his arm as he started to march forward. Not yet. I had to wait for Joseph to publicly acknowledge her. Then, I would bring them both down. Just then, the gates opened again. Joseph strode in, looking impeccable in a custom suit. Kayla immediately ran to him, linking her arm through his. “Darling, I told you this brand looks the best on you.” I saw Joseph flinch, just for a second, but he quickly smoothed over his expression. My own anger surged. The founder of that particular brand was our family’s mortal enemy. They had orchestrated the hostile takeover that had led to my father’s stress-induced heart attack. Joseph knew this. And yet, here he was, publicly slapping me in the face. I was about to stand up when Joseph’s friends surrounded them. “Joseph, your girl is a real firecracker! So full of life!” “Kayla, a hundred-million-dollar vineyard! You won’t find a better man anywhere in the world!” “So, this estate is officially the Summers Vineyard now! How are you going to thank our boy?” Kayla blushed, basking in the attention. Just then, the estate manager, who was serving wine, looked at them in confusion. “What do you mean, it belongs to her? Didn’t you just borrow it from Madame Anders?” A ripple of whispers went through the crowd. “What’s going on?” “I thought this place belonged to Joseph’s wife. But I thought her last name was Beaumont?” “Wait, her name is Summers? Is she some kind of imposter?” The manager’s face was now a mask of fury. “Monsieur! How could you do this behind Madame’s back?” He pulled out his phone, about to call me. In a flash, Joseph’s bodyguards swarmed him, forcing him to his knees. Joseph’s gaze swept over the crowd, cold and menacing. “Gag him. Let him learn the price of speaking out of turn.” His voice was quiet, but it carried the chilling authority of a man used to being obeyed. The hall fell silent. Joseph didn’t even glance at the struggling manager, his fingers casually tracing Kayla’s cheek. “Kayla is the real Mrs. Anders,” he announced. “Ava Beaumont was nothing more than a servant in my house.” A servant? I almost laughed out loud. Had he really forgotten who had lifted him from the gutter and placed him on his throne? Without me, he’d still be a street rat, begging for scraps. I had fought beside him for ten years. I had taken two bullets for him. I had used my brother’s influence to pave his way. I had clawed my way back from the brink of death, thinking only of how to secure his future. And now, I was just a “servant.” No one dared to challenge him. The guests quickly fell into line. “I see! How generous of you, Mr. Anders, to let a maid use your family name to swindle people.” Someone even turned to Kayla with a word of advice. “Mrs. Anders, you should be careful. A servant like that might try to seduce your husband.” “So deceitful! She should be thrown to the sharks!” Kayla’s triumphant smile was impossible to hide. The manager, his face pale with shock, was still struggling as they dragged him away. “I want to see Miss Beaumont! She is the real Mrs. Anders!” The guests looked on with contempt. “Such a scheming maid, even managed to fool the staff.” “A snake like that… you can’t keep her around, Mr. Anders.” Joseph’s cold eyes scanned the room. His voice was a blade. “I will say this one more time. I have only one wife, and her name is Kayla Summers. If any of you ever disrespect her again, you will have me to answer to.” The silence was absolute. Until I started to clap. The slow, deliberate sound made every head turn in my direction. I pulled off my cap, my eyes locking onto theirs. “Well then,” I said, my voice ringing out in the silent hall. “If she’s Mrs. Anders, then who am I?” The smiles on Joseph and Kayla’s faces froze.

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