My Omega husband is the main character in a popular harem novel. Practically every desirable Alpha in the story is in love with him. The handsome, wealthy, aloof CEO; the wild, rebellious trust-fund kid; the gentle, devoted superstar… Without exception, they are all hopelessly devoted to my husband. And me? I’m just a plain, unremarkable Beta. In the story, I’m known as “the clueless husband.” My only purpose is to add a little spice to their thrilling affair, a background character they can cheat on for an extra dash of excitement. So, it turns out I’m the disposable nice guy trope? 1 After I took a nasty fall down the stairs, a flood of unfamiliar memories washed over me. That’s when I learned the truth: I was nothing more than the cannon fodder husband in a trashy romance novel. So, I immediately handed my husband, Jason, a set of divorce papers. When the Omega saw the words on the page, his fair, beautiful face filled with confusion and helplessness. “Josh… w-why do you want a divorce?” Jason’s voice trembled, and his lovely almond-shaped eyes welled up with tears. “Did I do something wrong?” After all, he was the man I had moved heaven and earth to win over, my one true love. Being his simp had become second nature. Seeing him look so pitiful, a familiar pang of sympathy shot through my chest. I instinctively wanted to reach out and wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes. No, stop it! Josh, if you feel sorry for him now, who’s going to feel sorry for you later? The thought of not only being cheated on mercilessly but also being thrown into the ocean to feed the fishes by his jealous Alpha suitors sent a violent shiver down my spine. The fog in my brain cleared instantly. “You didn’t do anything wrong…” At this point in the story, Jason hadn’t even met the three main Alphas yet, so I couldn’t technically fault him for anything. I had to make something up. “I just… don’t feel the same way anymore.” “Let’s just end things amicably.” At my words, Jason began to cry even harder, his voice choked with sobs. “You swore to me! You promised you would make me happy for the rest of my life!” “Are you going back on your promise now?” His accusation made me feel a pang of guilt, and I nervously adjusted the black-framed glasses on my face. Everyone who knew we were married thought I was a classic case of punching way above my weight. After all, in a world where Omegas made up only six percent of the population, they were infinitely more precious than a dime-a-dozen Beta like me. And Jason wasn’t just any Omega; he was stunningly beautiful, came from a wealthy family, and had a gentle temperament. He was the perfect partner. I’d fallen for him the first moment I saw him in college. To win him over, I’d become the ultimate simp, catering to his every whim, always there for him, no matter what. But Jason always kept me at arm’s length—never rejecting me, but never accepting me either. I spent three years like that, and by the time we graduated, he still hadn’t agreed to be with me. I was crushed and on the verge of giving up when, out of the blue, he contacted me. I rushed to the coffee shop, my heart soaring, only to be met by the sight of his beautiful face, streaked with tears. “Josh, what am I going to do?” he cried, his eyes red and swollen like a terrified little rabbit. “My parents are forcing me into an arranged marriage! They want to marry me off to some sixty-year-old Alpha for a business deal!” The sight broke my heart. I immediately grabbed his hand. “Jason, come with me.” “I’ll make you happy!” And just like that, we eloped. I married the Omega I had dreamed of for years. I was, for a time, incredibly proud. In college, the line of suitors for Jason was endless. I was the least significant of them all. No one could believe that this dream man, pursued by countless Alphas, would end up choosing me. After all, I was just a plain Beta. My looks, my charisma, my talents… everything about me was average. I was an orphan with no family to my name. I thought I was the ultimate success story of the simp who got the girl. I never imagined the storm that was brewing, a storm that would turn my world upside down. 2 “I will never divorce you!” For the first time ever, Jason lost his temper. With red-rimmed eyes, he tore the divorce papers to shreds, then stormed into his room and locked the door, refusing to answer no matter how much I knocked. This was not how I expected things to go. According to the novel, Jason had only married me to escape his arranged marriage. He didn’t actually have any real feelings for me. He had always used the excuse that he had a “gland problem” to keep me from getting too close. We’d been sleeping in separate rooms for the entire year we’d been married. He found me, a Beta, to be dull and uninteresting, a far cry from his ideal partner. Logically, he should have been thrilled that I was the one initiating the divorce. So why was he fighting it so desperately? My head started to ache. The next morning, his door was still shut. I tried knocking, but got no response. Defeated, I gave up. After a quick breakfast, I headed to work as usual. I had barely settled at my desk when someone handed me a file. “Mr. Evans, could you please take this development proposal to Mr. Thorne for his signature?” “Sure.” I nodded and took the file up to the CEO’s office on the top floor. After a soft knock, a cold, sharp voice answered. “Come in.” The man behind the desk had deep-set eyes, a high-bridged nose, and a jawline so sharp it could cut glass. No one could deny that he was an exceptionally handsome Alpha. But seeing that familiar face again, something inside me had changed. The reason was simple. My boss, Damian Thorne, was the first male lead in this ridiculous novel. He was the first bastard to start this whole mess. The thought made me grind my teeth. My gaze toward him was now tinged with resentment. Seriously? I’m slaving away for you at this company, and you’re plotting to cheat with my husband?! Damian’s brow furrowed slightly when he saw it was me. He took the file from my hand, his voice cool. “Is my schedule for tonight prepared?” I nodded. “Yes, it’s all set.” He gave a slight nod, then after a moment’s pause, asked, as if it were an afterthought, “How are you and Jason doing lately?” I forced a polite smile. “We’re doing well. Thank you for asking, Mr. Thorne.” Damian and Jason were high school classmates. I’d only gotten this job at Thorne Industries because of Jason’s connection to him. But I never, ever suspected that this asshole had been secretly in love with my husband the whole time. No wonder he always looked at me funny, frowning whenever he saw me as if I were a piece of trash. It was the classic look of a man staring down his rival. 3 That evening, Damian had a charity auction to attend at six. As his secretary, I had to accompany him. Before the auction, there was a dinner gala. The hall glittered with chandeliers, filled with the city’s elite. Damian was his usual cool and composed self, exuding the powerful aura unique to a top-tier Alpha. I trailed silently behind him, but then I caught sight of someone out of the corner of my eye, holding a glass of champagne and slowly making his way toward us. “Long time no see…” The newcomer wore a perfectly tailored white suit that highlighted his tall, lean frame, making him stand out in the crowd. I recognized the handsome face, a regular on the big screen, and my heart skipped a beat. This was none other than the third male lead of the novel—the superstar, Elias Vance. Elias was smiling at Damian, his amber eyes glittering like honey under the chandelier lights. “Mr. Thorne, I hear you’ve been seeing the Li family’s Omega recently.” “It sounds like… wedding bells are in your future.” Damian’s brow twitched, and his tone was icy. “That’s none of your business.” The Thorne family had been actively searching for a suitable partner for Damian. But I knew that in the near future, after Damian got together with Jason, all these potential fiancées would become nothing but a distant memory. Elias was all smiles, while Damian’s face was so cold you could chip ice off it. Anyone could see they didn’t get along. I wasn’t surprised. I’d heard they were sworn enemies. The Thorne and Vance families were old friends, and Damian and Elias had grown up together. But their personalities clashed, and they’d never seen eye to eye. In the future, they would become bitter rivals over Jason, fighting practically every time they met. “The auction is about to begin. Mr. Evans, let’s go.” Damian clearly had no intention of engaging with Elias and turned to leave. I nodded, but couldn’t resist a glance back. Elias didn’t seem bothered by Damian’s cold shoulder, the smile never leaving his lips. But his eyes, fixed on Damian’s retreating back, held a dark, almost imperceptible glint of animosity. 4 After the auction, I called my best friend, Mark, to see if he wanted to grab a drink. “Josh, have you lost your damn mind?!” At the bar, Mark stared at me in disbelief when I told him I wanted to divorce Jason. “Jason was the most sought-after guy in our entire university, a total heartthrob!” “So many people were dying to be with him, and you, you lucky bastard, you want to divorce him?!” Mark looked at me, confused. “You’re not even drunk. Why are you talking crazy?” Of course, I couldn’t tell him about the novel. He’d think I was insane. He eyed me suspiciously. “Don’t tell me… you’re cheating on him, aren’t you?” “Get out of here!” I shot back, exasperated. “Am I that kind of guy?” “I just… I just don’t think we’re a good match.” To my surprise, Mark didn’t argue with that. “You know… I’m not entirely surprised you feel that way,” he said with a sigh. “We Betas don’t have pheromones. When an Omega goes into heat, we can’t do anything to help. Over time, it’s bound to cause problems in a relationship.” “Look around us. How many Betas do you know who actually make it work with an Omega long-term? Most Omegas might date a Beta for a while, but in the end, they almost always end up with an Alpha.” Mark sighed again. “After all, Omegas and Alphas are… biologically hardwired for each other.” His words hit me hard. I fell silent. He was right. In the novel, the first time Jason betrays our marriage is during his heat, when he runs into Damian. They can’t control themselves, and… well, that’s when it all starts. Bound by a sense of guilt, Jason feels bad about it at first. But he never had strong feelings for me to begin with. In the end, he can’t resist his Omega nature and chooses an Alpha as his partner. It’s true what they say: no good ever comes from being a simp. A wave of bitterness washed over me. I picked up my glass and downed it in one gulp. The cool liquid seemed to soothe some of the turmoil in my chest. I waved at the bartender. “Another brandy!” 5 Two drinks later, I was feeling unsteady on my feet. As I stumbled toward the restroom, a cloyingly sweet smell of chocolate hit me. Why does the restroom smell like chocolate? Before I could figure it out, a tall, slender figure lunged at me, pinning me against the wall. In that instant, the chocolate scent intensified, thick and overwhelming, wrapping around me like a suffocating blanket. Even through my clothes, I could feel the searing heat radiating from his body. The alcohol had slowed my reflexes. I stood there, dazed, for a few seconds before I slowly lifted my head. The man had a wild mane of blond hair, sharp features, and a rebellious air about him. Seeing his familiar face, I frowned. “You… Zane?!” Zane was a younger student from my university and my sworn enemy. We were both chasing after Jason back then, and we couldn’t stand each other. He used his family’s money to make my life miserable, always sneering at me with a condescending smirk whenever he saw me. I hated his arrogant attitude. What I hated even more was that Zane was the second male lead in the novel. The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. A jerk like him gets to be with Jason, while I get thrown away like trash in the end?! “Get off me!” I snarled, trying to shove him away. But he effortlessly grabbed my wrists. The motion sent a jolt through me, clearing some of the alcoholic haze from my mind. That’s when I noticed that something was seriously wrong with him. His breathing was ragged, his eyes glazed over. He lowered his head, his lips parting, the warm breath from his mouth getting closer and closer to my neck. “Oh, crap!” This bastard was in a rut! “Are you blind?! Look at me!” I yelled, struggling against his grip. “I’m a Beta!” He just scowled in frustration, slamming my hands against the wall above my head before lowering his head again. Betas have glands, but they’re undeveloped and don’t produce pheromones. Without the scent to guide him, Zane couldn’t find my gland. So, in a fit of rage, he just bit down hard on my neck. The moment his sharp canines pierced my skin, my world went white. It hurts! The sharp pain sent a surge of adrenaline through me. I found a burst of strength from somewhere, and seeing an opening, I drove my fist hard into his stomach. He grunted, his grip finally loosening. Before he could recover, I scrambled out of the restroom and fled. It was midnight by the time I got home. The living room was dark, and I assumed Jason was already asleep. But when I flipped on the light, I saw a familiar figure sitting bolt upright on the sofa. I instinctively clapped a hand over the wound on my neck and forced a sheepish smile. “Why are you still up so late?” 6 On the sofa, Jason was staring at me, his gaze cold and piercing. His long, dark hair was loose, cascading down his back, which only served to accentuate his snow-white skin and ruby-red lips. Under the harsh, cold light, he radiated an eerie, chilling beauty, like a dangerous siren. Seeing his dark expression, I swallowed nervously. “What’s… what’s wrong?” Jason stood up, his face a mask of ice. He always used to lower his head in front of me, projecting an image of gentleness and submission. It was only now, belatedly, that I realized—he was a good half a head taller than me. “Who were you with tonight?” “Who else?” I rubbed my nose, feeling a strange sense of guilt. “Just Mark…” “You’re lying!” Jason’s eyes flashed with anger. “Mark isn’t an Alpha! You reek of some disgusting Alpha’s scent!” “Those are clearly Alpha pheromones!” I felt a flush of embarrassment. “Jason, let me explain…” But his face darkened further. He yanked my hand away from my neck. When he saw the bite mark, his entire body began to tremble, and the expression on his face was more terrifying than anything I had ever seen. “Josh!” “Did you sleep with an Alpha?!” His words were so blunt, so humiliating, that I exploded. “What the hell are you talking about?!” But Jason wasn’t listening. He seemed to have lost his mind with rage. He dragged me into the bedroom and threw me onto the bed, pinning me down. It was only then that I realized how strong he was, nothing like the delicate Omega I had always believed him to be. “Are you crazy?!” I yelled, trying to push him off. But he held my hands down, and I couldn’t move an inch. He traced the bite mark on my neck, his touch surprisingly gentle, but his voice was chilling. “A place I’ve been desperately holding back from, a place I couldn’t bear to touch… you just let someone else have it so easily?” A dangerous aura filled the room. Alarm bells screamed in my head, and my body began to tremble under his touch. “Honey, please, listen to me. It’s just a misunderstanding.” Jason placed a finger on my lips, silencing me. His voice was a soft whisper. “Shh…” “I don’t want to hear your excuses.” He was smiling, but his eyes were like chips of ice. He gripped my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Since you say it’s just a misunderstanding, then let me…” “…conduct a thorough inspection.” 7 Inspection? What kind of inspection? Before I could process his words, a warm pressure covered my lips. “Mmph!” My eyes flew open. Was Jason… forcibly kissing me? As our lips and tongues tangled, the potent, intoxicating scent of tequila slammed into me, wrapping around me with an aggressive, domineering force. Was this… Jason’s pheromone scent? I was shocked. Because Jason had always claimed to have a gland problem, I had never smelled his pheromones before. I’d always imagined they would be soft and elegant, just like the gentle persona he presented to the world. I never expected them to be so…domineering. Is this really the kind of scent a sweet, gentle Omega is supposed to have? I was suddenly very confused. Jason seemed to sense my distraction. He nipped my lip in annoyance, and his hands began to roam over my body, finally settling on a very… private area. Wait. Something is very, very wrong here… Oh my God, is he trying to top me?! Panic seized me. No, no, no! As a Beta, I absolutely could not let an Omega dominate me! If word got out, I’d never be able to show my face in public again! With that thought, I tried to sit up and break free. But in the next instant, a strange, searing heat erupted from the gland at the back of my neck, spreading rapidly through my entire body. What the hell is happening?! Why was I, a Beta, experiencing symptoms similar to an Omega’s heat? I froze, completely stunned. My already foggy mind grew even hazier with the rising heat. Under the lamplight, Jason’s beautiful face seemed to become even more alluring. “Jason…” I managed to choke out his name, my throat dry and tight. Deep inside, a hollow, unfamiliar ache began to grow, an ache that was almost unbearable. But just then, Jason stopped. He simply watched me, a playful, cruel smile on his lips as he took in my pathetic state. “Tell me,” he purred, “do you want me to continue?” How had I never realized what a sadist he was? This was no gentle little rabbit. This was a calculating, vicious wolf. “Go to hell!” I snarled, glaring at him, refusing to back down. “If you can’t get the job done, I’ll just go find someone else!” “You dare!” My words clearly hit a nerve. He yanked me into his arms. “I was going to be gentle with you…” he hissed, then lowered his head, his sharp canines aimed directly at my gland. “Ah—!” My eyes shot open, pupils contracting in agony. Through my blurred vision, I could see Jason’s head buried in the crook of my neck. I don’t know how long it lasted. When he finally lifted his head, his lips were stained with a shocking smear of red. He stroked the wound on the back of my neck, his expression one of pure satisfaction. “The mark…” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “…is finally complete.”

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The day before my wedding, I dropped my best man off at his hotel and saw my fiancée, Isabella, checking into a room with her ex-boyfriend. Just ten minutes earlier, she had texted me: “I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow, my love. Come and take me home.” I swallowed my rage and filmed the video of them kissing in the hallway. The next day, at our wedding, I played it for everyone to see. 1 The moment the video played, the reception hall erupted. Isabella’s younger brother was the first to react, pointing at the event staff and screaming. “What the hell are you people doing? Why would you play a video like this at a wedding?” “How dare you embarrass the Thorne family! Is your company trying to go out of business?” “Where’s your manager? Get them out here…” His voice trailed off as he, along with every other guest, became glued to the screen. I nodded, satisfied. “Everyone,” I announced, “welcome to my breakup party with Isabella Thorne. From this day forward, we are finished. Please, eat, drink, and enjoy.” Realizing she was the star of the show, Isabella rushed toward me, desperate to explain. But I had already dropped the microphone and walked out. The second I stepped outside the hotel, my father’s call came through. I let my phone’s AI assistant handle it. When I’d first told him I was marrying Isabella, he’d been so ecstatic he stayed drunk for three days, bragging to anyone who would listen about how his brilliant son was marrying a wealthy heiress. He would be the last person to accept this wedding being called off. Back at my apartment, the calls from my father were relentless. Annoyed, I finally just pulled the SIM card out of my phone. I tossed my wedding suit in the trash and found the nearest bar. My social media, anything that connected me to Isabella, was blowing up with notifications. But I had a new phone now. I couldn’t see their chaos even if I wanted to. The bar owner saw me and strolled over, a friendly grin on his face. “Flying solo tonight, Leo? Where’s your fiancée?” I glanced over my shoulder, a wry smile on my face. “She’ll be here soon.” A second later, a familiar figure appeared. 2 Isabella was frantically pushing her way through the crowd, her eyes glued to her phone as she scanned the room. A man who had been watching me from a distance a moment before moved toward her. She fought him off, shoving him away. I couldn’t hear what he said, but it left a look of pure resentment on her face as she pushed him aside again and continued her search. The man watched her go, his posture radiating a deep, lonely pain. The bar’s flashing lights obscured his features, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. I assumed he was a friend of Isabella’s who had spotted me and tipped her off. Yet, racking my brain, I couldn’t place him. It was the bar owner who broke my train of thought. “Leo, your fiancée is calling my phone now.” “Your phone’s on, isn’t it? What’s going on? You two have a fight?” I looked up, and he, thinking I wanted to answer, accepted the call. He even helpfully turned it on speaker. Isabella’s voice, frantic and loud, came through the phone. “Leo, honey, I know you’re at a bar. Please just tell me where you are. Give me a chance to explain.” I hung up. The owner stared at me, bewildered. “Aren’t you going to find her? Aren’t you worried about her being out alone?” I glanced back at the spot where the mysterious man had been. He had already vanished back into the crowd. “She’s not my fiancée anymore,” I murmured, my voice hollow. “She doesn’t need me.” 3 It was past two in the morning when I finally stumbled home. I looked up and saw her, Isabella, huddled by my front door. It was always her move after she’d done something wrong. “Leo, I couldn’t find you at the bar, and your phone was off.” “You’ve had so much to drink. You can barely stand.” “Come on, let’s get you inside.” She greeted me with a bright, relieved smile, fussing over me as if nothing had happened. I shoved her away. “Get off me. Don’t touch me!” She froze, her eyes filled with a wounded look. “Honey, it was the wedding company. They were trying to mess with us. The video was a deepfake.” “I’ve already called my lawyer. I’ll find the proof, I promise…” “I filmed it.” My voice was cold as I looked at her. “You couldn’t even wait to get into the room. You were so into that kiss, it’s no surprise you didn’t see me standing right there.” The color drained from her face. She stood rooted to the spot, lost. The alcohol in my stomach churned. I pushed past her, ran to the bathroom, and collapsed over the toilet, heaving until tears streamed from my eyes. Isabella followed me, silently tending to me. She handed me tissues, found the hangover pills, and went to the kitchen to cook me noodles. She didn’t say a word. But every second, the image of her and her ex, desperate for each other outside that hotel room, played on a loop in my head. Seeing her now, so full of care and concern, felt surreal and absurd. “Isabella, I don’t want to see you again. Get out of my apartment.” Suddenly, there was a crash from the kitchen—the sound of a bowl shattering. She was silent for a long moment. Then, she brought out the noodles and the pills, placed them on the table in front of me, and quietly cleaned up the broken porcelain. “Leo, just… take some time to cool off. I’ll come back in a few days, and we can talk.” I was slumped on the sofa, my hand covering my eyes. “Get out.” 4 I didn’t touch the food. I spent the night on the sofa, wrapped in my own arms. Early the next morning, a loud banging rattled the front door. I opened it, and my father stormed in, nearly knocking me over. “Leo! Have you lost your mind?” “Isabella is from a wealthy family! Of course she’s had boyfriends! Once you were married, you would have had everything! You’re going to throw all that away over one little thing?” “All our friends and family were there! How could you humiliate me like that?” My head was pounding. “Dad,” I said weakly, “did you not see the video? She was with her ex, the day before our wedding…” He waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t talk to me about that! She’s a fourth-generation heiress! Men are lining up to marry her. This only happened because you couldn’t keep her satisfied! If you were man enough to keep her focused on you, this never would have happened. You were about to marry up, to enter a whole new world, and you just walk away? You’re thirty years old, Leo! Where are you going to find another woman who can do more for you than Isabella?” Hearing those words come from him was no surprise. His greed knew no bounds, especially when it came to rich women. But I had my limits. “Dad, if you love her so much, why don’t you ask her to adopt you?” He sputtered with rage, his hand flying up to slap me. I’d been drinking all night on an empty stomach, and the stress sent a sharp, cramping pain through my gut. I shoved him aside and ran for the bathroom again. Even then, he didn’t stop yelling, telling me I was inflexible, that my lifestyle was unhealthy. But every sentence somehow circled back to Isabella. “She’s beautiful, she’s sophisticated, and her family is top-tier! You couldn’t hold on to her, and now she’ll find someone better looking, more successful, and more open-minded than you! You’ll be left with nothing!” His words echoed down the hall and drilled into my ears. I thought of the heartbroken man at the bar last night. The delayed realization hit me like a sledgehammer, pounding against my chest. “You’re a grown man, and you can’t even clean up after yourself! What are these drops of blood on the floor?” “Only Isabella would put up with you. Any other woman would have burned this place to the ground by now.” I slammed the bathroom door shut and crawled into bed, pulling the covers over my head. I curled into a ball, cocooned in the darkness, and finally let myself sob. 5 My relationship with Isabella didn’t start the way my father thought—me climbing the social ladder, her being a convenient, docile rich girl. We had been together for ten years. We fell in love during a time when my father’s control over my life was at its most suffocating. In our tenth year together, through my own hard work, I had finally bought an apartment and a car in the city where her family lived. I had teased her, “Apartment and car are paid in full. I’ve saved for the wedding, and I even bought you your favorite style of ring. How much longer do I have to wait before you’ll marry me?” She had cupped my face in her hands and kissed me, her love enveloping me. When she pulled back, her eyes were shining. “This year. Let’s get married this year.” “Leo, do you still want to marry me?” I didn’t. I should have said no right then. Isabella, you said I was your present and your future. I was the one who healed your past, the one who brought you peace. I was the one you were supposed to walk down the aisle with. So why? Why, when I was closer to happiness than I had ever been, did you have to go back to him? 6 My father harassed me for days, a cycle of threats and pleading, all aimed at getting me to reconcile with Isabella. When he realized I wasn’t going to budge, he slammed the door and left in a huff. I locked myself in my apartment. No one called. My phone was off. I heard nothing. I lay on my bed like a corpse, utterly lifeless. On Monday, I went back to the office. My colleagues immediately started congratulating me. “The wedding didn’t happen. Sorry,” I said flatly. Their faces shifted from cheerful to awkward. “Oh. That’s… sudden. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…” “Let me buy you a coffee, man, I’m really sorry…” I cut them off with a weak smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s over.” The busy morning was a welcome distraction. I went to the breakroom to get some water and overheard a few people whispering. “Why didn’t Leo get married?” “His fiancée is gorgeous and comes from a great family. You think she got cold feet?” “No way. She was crazy about him. She used to bring him different kinds of homemade soup every week to help his stomach problems. When he was hospitalized for that ulcer, she never left his side. She even drove him to and from work for a while after he was discharged. She was completely devoted to him.” “Then what could it be? You don’t think Leo was cheating on her, do you?” “Get out of here! We’ve worked with him for years. He’s capable, responsible, has a great sense of humor but always knows the line. He’s a solid guy.” I didn’t stay to hear the rest. I bought a coffee from the vending machine and went back to my desk. As soon as I sat down, my father called. I ignored it, but then the texts started. “How could you block Isabella? Are you a child?” “Can’t you two just sit down and talk this out like adults?” I read the messages with a detached numbness. I didn’t know how to respond. My entire being felt hollow. By the time I snapped out of it, my father’s number was in my block list. 7 A thunderstorm raged outside, the wind howling. Flashes of lightning illuminated the faces of my colleagues as they rushed to get home. I waited until the office was empty before heading down. I opened my bag and remembered: I never carried an umbrella. For ten years, Isabella had always been the one to remind me. Before I left, she would give me a playful, insistent look until I finally grabbed it. I had gotten so used to following her lead. I trusted her unconditionally. That kind of blind trust is a terrifying thing. I held my briefcase over my head and dashed into the parking garage, only to find my car wouldn’t start. I slammed my fist on the steering wheel in frustration. It had been working fine. In the end, I had no choice but to brave the storm and head for the subway. The moment I stepped out of the garage, I saw her. Isabella, standing in the pouring rain. She saw me and ran over, her voice filled with worry. “Leo, you’re getting soaked! Let’s just go home and we can talk…” “Let go of me!” I ripped my arm from her grasp and stormed off into the downpour. She ran after me, calling my name, trying to shield me from the rain with her small hands. “Leo, I drove here! Please, let me give you a ride!” “You have stomach problems! You’ll get sick if you catch a cold!” “If you won’t get in the car, at least take my umbrella! I’ll worry about you…” “Leave me alone! Stop following me!” I stopped dead in my tracks and screamed at her, all my pent-up frustration and pain exploding out of me. “Just get away from me! GO!” “I never want to see you again! I don’t want to hear another word from you! Do you hear me?” “I will never, ever trust you again! Get out of my life! GET OUT!” I was shaking, my face a mess of rain and tears. My throat was raw, as if I had screamed myself bloody. Why? The day had been so normal. I had closed a deal with a client, I had eaten properly. I had even decided to finally schedule a check-up for my long-neglected stomach issues. I thought I was moving on. Why did the sight of her make me fall apart all over again? The only umbrella we had was knocked from my hand, snatched by the wind and sent tumbling down the street. Isabella’s elegant dress was ruined, plastered to her skin by the rain. We stood there, two pathetic, drenched figures. Despite my furious rejection, she stood as still as a statue, just staring at me. Her lips moved, soundlessly forming my name. Seeing her so broken and lost brought me no relief. It only made the weight on my chest heavier. A few passersby were staring. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I wiped the water from my face and walked away, leaving her standing alone in the storm. Back home, after a hot shower, I could already feel a cold coming on, and a dull ache in my stomach. I took some medicine and was about to lie down when my phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. “Leo, you bastard! You blocked your own father?” “I’ve been going out of my mind! Isabella tried to kill herself! She cut her wrists!” “Downtown General, third floor, emergency room! Get your ass over here now!”

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I married a woman more alluring in her inspector’s uniform than silk lingerie, expecting handcuffs and passion. Instead, for three months, she’d tie me to the headboard only to leave when her phone buzzed with work. On the 99th time, pregnant and finally free for our first prenatal visit, her encrypted phone rang as we entered the hospital. A name flashed—she paled. “Code red,” she said. “Fugitive crossed the border.” Gone before I could argue. I crushed the appointment slip, hailed a cab, and pointed to her car. “Follow it.” A Red Notice fugitive? Pathetic lie. My father heads Federal Security—he’d know first. What “fugitive” would a city inspector chase alone? I’d find out which “superior” gave those orders. 1 The moment I muttered the words “catch a cheater,” the taxi driver slammed on the gas, and we were hot on Sera’s tail. I had no idea who she was rushing to meet, but a cold dread was pooling in my gut. To my surprise, after a series of winding turns, her car pulled up to the gates of the Oakhaven Estates, the exclusive residential compound for the department’s top brass. A wave of relief washed over me. At least it wasn’t a hotel. Sera had been assigned a villa here. Before our first child, we’d lived here for a few months. The neighbors were all pleasant enough. But as I looked closer, I saw the house was ablaze with lights and decorations, the driveway crowded with luxury cars. What was going on? Was it some kind of holiday I’d forgotten? I tried to follow her inside, but a guard stopped me at the gate. “Restricted access. No unauthorized personnel.” I managed a smile. “It’s alright. I’m with Inspector Henderson, who just went in. I’m her husband.” The guard shot me a look of pure contempt. “Inspector Henderson’s husband is Mr. Caleb Shaw. And who are you? If you’re going to impersonate someone, at least do your homework.” The world tilted on its axis. My blood ran cold, and I froze, rooted to the spot. Caleb Shaw. The man I had found for Sera… the living, breathing blood bank. Shaking myself from my stupor, I shoved past the guard and sprinted to the villa’s entrance. The scene inside was a glittering panorama of the city’s elite, their laughter echoing through the grand hall. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, who usually loathed social functions, was gliding through the crowd, a gracious hostess. And there, in the center of it all, was my wife, Sera. She was holding a baby, her pregnant belly prominent, smiling up at the tall man beside her with a look of pure, unadulterated happiness. The man was Caleb Shaw. A giant hand seized my heart, squeezing until I couldn’t breathe. My eyes burned. When Sera first joined the force, I was terrified for her. She had a rare blood type, and the thought of her getting injured in the line of duty was unbearable. I had scoured the country and found Caleb, then just a broke college student, to be her on-call donor. A living insurance policy. After our first child was born, Caleb had donated so much blood that his health had deteriorated. He couldn’t be a donor anymore. Sera had said we should send him on his way. But I felt a pang of pity. I’d pulled some strings, gotten him a comfortable clerk position at the precinct, and even asked Sera to look out for him. I never imagined this. That she would cheat on me with him. That she would move him into this house—the house she had decorated as our marital home after her promotion to Captain. She’d claimed it was too far from the hospital, that the stress of her first pregnancy was giving her panic attacks, and insisted we buy a new place downtown. I saw now that it was all a lie. This house hadn’t been abandoned. It had become their home. And they had a child… Wait. A child? “Congratulations, Captain Henderson!” a woman gushed. “Such a doting husband, and now your beautiful child is turning one! You truly have it all!” “Oh, Caleb is a lucky man to have landed our Sera,” another chimed in, patting my mother-in-law on the arm. Eleanor beamed, her eyes shining with pride as she looked at Caleb. “It is Sera who is the lucky one, to have found such a devoted man.” As she spoke, Sera leaned in and whispered something in Caleb’s ear. He blushed and then raised his glass to the crowd. “I have to apologize for the secrecy,” he said, his voice smooth. “I was worried that being publicly married to me might affect Sera’s authority at the precinct. Please, don’t hold it against us. Today is our child’s first birthday. Think of this as our belated wedding reception!” The crowd laughed and raised their glasses. “How could we be upset? We just owe you a ‘congratulations on the wedding’!” “I have an idea!” one of Sera’s subordinates shouted. “Why not relive the moment? A ceremonial toast, bride and groom style!” The room erupted in cheers. Caleb looked shyly hesitant, but Sera, ever the confident leader, grinned and linked her arm with his, raising her glass. But just as she brought it to her lips, her eyes met mine across the crowded room. “Finn…” she whispered. She shoved Caleb away so violently that he stumbled, red wine sloshing all over his pristine white shirt. I wiped the hot tears from my eyes, strode forward, and slammed my fist into Caleb’s face. CRACK! The sound of bone breaking echoed through the suddenly silent hall. “Caleb!” Sera screamed, rushing to his side. She turned on me, her face contorted with rage. “Finn! How dare you—” SLAP! The sound of my hand connecting with her cheek was just as loud. She staggered back, a red handprint blooming on her face, and fell into Caleb’s arms. I shook out my stinging palm. “Finn—” she started to yell again. “SERA!” My voice was louder, a raw, ragged roar. I pointed a trembling finger at the man she was cradling. “This,” I spat, my voice cracking, “is your ‘Red Notice fugitive’!” 2 Sera was speechless, her mouth opening and closing like a fish, but no sound came out. The assembled guests—high-ranking officials and their spouses—stared, utterly bewildered. The tense silence was shattered by the piercing cry of a baby. Eleanor rushed to take the child, and the moment she had him soothed, she rounded on me. “Finn! You psycho! We’re divorced, what are you doing here harassing my daughter? Get the hell out before you offend someone important and end up in a cell!” The Deputy Commissioner’s wife chimed in, her voice shrill. “Even if you are her ex-husband, you can’t just assault people! That’s a police officer you just hit! Have you lost your mind?” The revelation of my supposed identity sent a shockwave through the room. The murmurs exploded into a cacophony of outrage, with people shouting that I should be arrested. I ignored them, grabbing Sera’s wrist, my mind reeling. Since when was I the ex-husband? But Caleb spoke first, shrinking behind Sera and looking at me with wide, pitiful eyes. “Finn… brother… Sera already divorced you. Why won’t you leave us alone?” Tears streamed down his face. “It’s all my fault. I’ll give her back to you, okay? Just leave us be…” His words had the opposite effect. Sera’s face hardened. “Finn, I told you, we are never getting back together!” she snapped. “Stop harassing us! Get out, while I still have some patience left!” She gestured, and several of her subordinates moved to grab me. In the struggle, I stumbled and crashed into Eleanor. And then I saw the baby’s face. The world shattered. It was as if a bolt of lightning had struck me, leaving nothing but smoke and ash. Because the child in her arms, the child they were calling Caleb’s, was Leo. My Leo. Our firstborn. I had been the one to soothe him to sleep, the one to change his diapers, the one to love him with every fiber of my being. But Leo… Leo had died three months ago. How could he be here? Sera… My breath hitched, and a wave of pure agony washed over me. That goddamned woman. She had even given our son—the son I thought was dead—to her lover to raise as his own. “Give me my son!” I roared, my teeth grinding together. I shoved Eleanor aside, snatched the swaddled infant from her arms, and held him close, my own tears streaming down onto his tiny, crying face. Caleb panicked, lunging for the baby. “Finn, he’s not your son!” he sobbed, his voice trembling. “I know Leo is gone, and you’ve been… unwell since the divorce. You keep begging Sera to have another child with you… I feel for you, I really do, but you can’t steal my son!” He was practically hysterical. “Please, just leave our family alone… I’ll divorce Sera if that’s what you want, just give me back my son!” At that, Sera’s expression twisted in pain. She grabbed Caleb’s shoulders. “Don’t you dare say that, Caleb! No one is tearing our family apart.” “Then what about me?!” I bellowed, interrupting their tragic little melodrama. I held up the crying baby. “Sera, this is our child! You gave him to your lover and told everyone I’m your ex-husband! Do you even have a heart?!” Her lips trembled. She couldn’t meet my eyes. Caleb’s tears, however, fell even faster. He turned to the guests, the very picture of a wronged man. “I’m so sorry, everyone. Finn is Sera’s ex-husband. He… he hasn’t been well since they lost their son and divorced. He keeps begging her to have another baby, and when she refused, he… he started claiming our son was his. Sera has been trying to help him, out of pity for what they once had, but he just won’t leave us alone. Now he’s even threatening me…” His speech lit a match to the room’s simmering anger. “He’s an animal!” one of the society wives shrieked. “Security! Get this lunatic out of here!” I just held my son, a bitter, broken laugh escaping my lips. I looked at Caleb, my eyes as cold as ice. “Who’s the animal here, Caleb? Do you need me to remind you how much you used to charge me per milliliter of your precious blood? Thirty million dollars I gave you. And you were the one on your knees, begging me for a stable job.” Caleb’s face grew paler with every word, but I didn’t stop. “What’s the matter? Is the allowance Sera gives you not enough? Is the little mistress trying to claim the throne? Doesn’t it hurt, pretending to be the king when you’re nothing but a court jester?” Before I could finish, a powerful shove sent me stumbling. 3 “You’re the homewrecker who destroyed my daughter’s life!” Eleanor screeched. My back slammed into the corner of a heavy oak table. A bolt of white-hot agony shot through my abdomen. In that moment of shock, she ripped the baby from my arms and handed him back to Caleb. Before I could recover, Sera’s officers were on me, pinning me down, their faces alight with self-righteous fury. “Everyone at the precinct knows the Captain and Caleb are the real deal!” one of them spat. “If it weren’t for Caleb’s intel, do you think she would have solved all those high-profile cases? Do you think she’d have been promoted so fast?” “You’re just a useless ex-husband, holding her back! You’re the one who should be ashamed!” Intel? Promotions? Those were my contributions. Everything I had done for her, every lead I had chased down using my family’s resources, every late night I had spent poring over case files for her… she had taken it all and given the credit to him. To build him up, to give him a respectable façade. Why? “Exactly! Even if you are mentally ill, interfering with the marriage of a public servant is a crime!” “Stop pretending you’re the victim, you parasite! It’s only because the Captain is a saint that she’s put up with you this long!” The vicious accusations swirled around me. Pinned to the floor, I looked up, my face ashen, at the woman standing aloof from it all, watching me suffer. “Sera,” I gasped, my voice weak. “Tell them. Tell them how you really got your Captain’s shield.” Her fingers clenched into a fist. She turned her head, and for the first time, I saw a flicker of raw hatred in her usually placid eyes. I almost smiled. “You told me the front lines were too dangerous, that you just wanted a safe desk job. I made it happen,” I whispered, the words tearing at my throat. “After we got engaged, you said your rank was too low, that you weren’t worthy of me, so I went to my father. You complained the cases were too complex, so I stayed up night after night, feeding you the clues. And this is how you—” “Enough!” Sera’s roar cut through the room. She strode forward, waving her men off, and her hands closed around my neck. Her eyes were bloodshot, feral. “You’re lying! I earned everything I have myself! It had nothing to do with a useless piece of trash like you!” The pressure on my throat was immense. Black spots danced in my vision as my face turned purple. But my words had hit their mark. Her violent, over-the-top reaction had planted a seed of doubt in the room. The guests were whispering again. Sensing the shift, Caleb made his move. He fell to his knees beside me, clutching the baby, his voice choked with sobs. “Finn… brother… when you have your episodes, I usually just let it go. But in front of all these important people… if you keep saying these things, you’ll destroy Sera’s career! I’m begging you, Finn. I’ll get on my knees, I’ll bow to you, just please, stop this madness!” He shuffled forward on his knees, grabbing my pant leg as if to prostrate himself. Sera, alarmed, released her grip on my neck and bent to pull him up. In that split second, Caleb twisted, using my leg as leverage to throw himself backward, letting out a piercing scream. “Aaargh! Finn, just kill me!” Before I could even react, Sera’s hand cracked across my face in a vicious, hysterical slap. “Finn! I’ve had it with you!” The right side of my face exploded in pain. I tried to strike back, but a sharp kick from Eleanor caught me in the lower back, sending me flying into a tall display cabinet. Glass and porcelain shattered around me. Shards rained down, embedding themselves in my skin, and my shirt was instantly soaked with blood. As I collapsed to the floor, a pool of crimson spread out beneath me. I lay there in the wreckage, my body a symphony of agony. “My eye… Sera… my eye…” A piece of glass had pierced my eyeball. A tear of blood rolled down my cheek as I reached a hand out to her. But it was Eleanor who responded, stomping on my outstretched hand with her heel. I felt the bones grind together. “You bastard! Stop faking! My daughter won’t fall for your threats!” My vision was blurring. “Sera… I’m not faking… hospital… please…” She didn’t even look at me. She was fussing over Caleb, her voice cold and hard. “That’s enough, Finn. Stop the act and apologize to Caleb. Do you think I’d believe your lies?” She turned back to me, her voice dripping with rage, but when she saw my blood-soaked face, her pupils contracted to pinpricks of shock and fear. She knew who I was. She couldn’t just let me die here. Staring into her panicked eyes, I fought through the pain that felt like it was tearing my nerves apart. “Sera!” I bit out each word. “If anything… happens to me… in your house… you… the devoted wife… will be a murderer! My father… my brother… they will bury your entire family! Get me… to a hospital!”

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Isabelle Vance, the woman Julian Godin had loved for nine years, was back in the country. And she’d brought a three-year-old daughter with her. The fragile warmth that had just begun to thaw my marriage to him froze solid overnight. At our anniversary dinner, a grand affair filled with the city’s elite, Julian decided to prove to her that our marriage was nothing more than a business contract. In front of everyone, he had a doctor brought in to examine me. The doctor’s clinical pronouncement echoed in the sudden silence: “Mrs. Godin, married for three years, is still a virgin.” I lay on the medical cot, my dress pushed aside, my eyes hollow as I stared at the ceiling, feeling the weight of a hundred mocking gazes. Afterward, he tossed the Southbridge project proposal onto the table in front of me, his eyes glacial. “Ava,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt, “to endure a humiliation like that just to remain Mrs. Godin… you really are pathetic.” A faint, almost silent laugh escaped my lips. He had no idea. The woman who signed that marriage certificate three years ago was my twin sister. The title of Mrs. Godin—and Julian himself—were things I had never once wanted. 1 I photographed the project proposal and sent it to my mother. A moment later, a notification lit up my phone. A deposit of forty thousand dollars. It came with a text: Stop dragging your sister’s name through the mud with your pathetic stunts. I stared at the screen, my thumb unconsciously tracing the frayed red cord on my wrist. Finally, I typed back a calm reply. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I had just gotten home and collapsed onto my bed when my phone buzzed again. It was Julian. “Get to the hospital. Now.” His voice was as cold and sharp as splintered ice. A shiver shot through me. I scrambled out of bed and into a cab, my heart pounding against my ribs. I sprinted through the automatic doors of the emergency room, but before I could even process what was happening, one of Julian’s men slammed me against the wall, a hand tight around my throat. Julian sat on a bench nearby, idly flicking a silver lighter open and shut. “Isabelle says you’re the one who hired someone to run them off the road.” My face flushed, and I struggled to force out the words. “I… didn’t…” He finally looked at me, his eyes void of warmth. “Proof?” I had none. I’d only just heard about it myself. How could I have proof? Julian’s brow tightened. His man immediately shoved me, and I stumbled, falling hard to the cold tile floor. I swallowed the coppery taste of blood in my mouth and tried to explain, but a sharp kick sent me sprawling again. He rose and walked over, looming above me. “If you don’t want a divorce, you’ll stay on your knees right there. When her surgery is over, you can get up.” I met his gaze and understood instantly. He’d already decided I was guilty. My mouth opened, but no words came out. I lowered my head and knelt silently outside the operating room, my fingers finding the familiar comfort of the red cord on my wrist. I couldn’t get a divorce. Not yet. I don’t know how many hours I knelt there. The feeling in my legs, from my knees to my ankles, had long since vanished. My body finally gave out, and the world dissolved into blackness. When I came to, the light above the operating room door was off. I was still on the floor, and a dull ache radiated through my entire body. It took several tries just to push myself up. “Ava.” Julian’s voice came from above. I lifted my head, my neck stiff with pain. I wondered why he wasn’t with Isabelle. “It’s been three years,” he said, crouching down, his long fingers closing around my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his. “Did you really start to think I had feelings for you?” My eyelashes fluttered, but I said nothing. “As long as you stay away from her and her daughter, you can keep your title. I can give you anything you want, Ava. Anything but love. Do you understand?” The stark light of the hospital corridor haloed him. I suddenly remembered the small, tasseled lamp he’d brought back for me from a business trip to the Middle East last year. He had placed it gently on my bedside table, his voice uncharacteristically soft. “You don’t have to be afraid of the dark anymore,” he’d said. “This will keep the darkness away.” I never knew how he found out about my fear, but the rare tenderness in his eyes that night… it had allowed me to believe, just for a moment, that something real might be growing in the barren soil of our fake marriage. “I know,” I whispered, my voice steadier than I expected. “I never thought that.” Julian’s eyes narrowed, searching my face for a lie. Our gazes locked for a long moment before he suddenly grabbed my arm, hauling me to my feet. A searing pain shot through my knees, and I nearly collapsed, but his other hand shot out, steadying me at the waist. “Remember what you said,” he warned, his voice a low growl. I watched him walk away and managed a bleak, twisted smile. My phone began to vibrate violently. I answered, and my mother’s impatient voice burst through the speaker. “Your sister is coming back in two months. Get ready to switch.” My breath hitched. My hand tightened around the phone. “The money…” My mother clicked her tongue in disgust. “I don’t know where you get your obsession with money. It’s so common. You’ll get your payment. Twenty million to buy your silence. Is that enough?” A genuine smile finally touched my lips. “Yes. Thank you, Ma’am.” The formal address only seemed to irritate her more. She hung up without another word. Some of the tension I’d been holding for years began to ease. I stared at the red cord on my wrist and whispered to the empty air. “Once you’re better, we’ll go see the northern lights.” 2 I was never the one meant to marry Julian Godin. Ten years ago, my twin sister Scarlett’s congenital heart condition flared up. The sight of me would send her into fits of tears. She’d cry about how unfair it was that I was healthy, that I had stolen her share of nutrients in the womb. Her sobs broke our parents’ hearts, and in a fit of misplaced justice, they sent me away to live in a rural town. A child ignored by her parents is a child ignored by everyone. The housekeeper never sent the living expenses my parents had promised. At my hungriest, I fought with stray dogs for scraps of food. That was when Leo found me and took me in. The villagers all laughed at him. “Look at the simpleton, picking up a beggar for a wife.” But I knew he wasn’t born that way. He had a brain tumor. Three years ago, when his illness was at its worst, the Sterling family came for me. They brought me back from the countryside and ordered me to marry into the Godin family in my sister’s place. Scarlett refused to be tied down. She wanted to chase “true love.” On the eve of her wedding, she ran off with another man. Terrified of offending the Godins, my parents suddenly remembered they had a spare daughter. I agreed to the substitution on one condition: forty thousand dollars a month, deposited directly into my account. Leo’s life was sustained by a series of experimental injections. He needed one every three months, at a cost of one hundred and twenty thousand dollars each. My compliance was the price of his life. Julian spent a full month at the hospital with Isabelle and her daughter, Kate. When he finally came home, a dark cloud hung around him. I knew that look. He’d been forced to see his father. I tried to slip away unnoticed, but he saw me. “Ava.” His voice was heavy, his expression unreadable. “I need an heir.” I spun around, my eyes locking with his cold, hard gaze. He stared at me for a few seconds, then let out a humorless laugh. “What, you’re not willing?” My throat felt like it was closing up. I couldn’t speak. “The Godin family needs an heir,” he stated, his tone quiet but absolute. I clenched my fists, forcing a smile. “Of course. I’m willing.” He loosened his tie with a careless tug and took a step closer. His warm breath ghosted across my cheek. I went rigid, fighting the urge to flinch. As I closed my eyes in resignation, he let out a soft, mocking scoff. “So eager to have me in your bed?” He stepped past me, his shoulder brushing mine. “Too bad. It’ll be IVF.” The study door slammed shut behind him. It was only then that I realized my legs had given out. I slid down the wall and collapsed onto the floor. 3 The IVF process was more agonizing than I could have imagined. The hormone shots used a needle that was long and thick, and the moment it pierced my skin, my vision would swim with black spots. “You must really love your husband,” the nurse remarked one day as she administered the injection, “to go through all this for him.” My mind was a fog of pain. I mumbled a vague agreement. When I looked up, I saw Julian standing in the doorway. He wasn’t supposed to be here. His eyes were dark, fixed on me. After the nurse left, advising me to rest, I lay on the bed, weak and drenched in a cold sweat. Julian took a few steps into the room, looking like he was about to say something, but his phone rang. It was the custom ringtone he’d set for Isabelle. “Julian, Kate says she misses you…” A little girl’s cheerful voice calling for her “Daddy” drifted through the phone. For a fleeting moment, Julian’s expression softened. He hung up and stood there, frowning at me, hesitating. I didn’t understand what he was waiting for, but I knew my role. As the understanding wife, I offered a weak smile. “Go ahead. I’m fine.” His frown only deepened. He studied my face, as if searching for something he couldn’t find. Finally, he just said, “My assistant, Mr. Hughes, will take care of you.” I was surprised. Hughes was his personal right-hand man, dedicated solely to him. To have him assigned to me over a simple medical procedure felt like an absurdly grand gesture. The moment Julian was gone, I reached into my purse and pulled out the birth control pills I’d been carrying. I swallowed them dry. I couldn’t get pregnant. I was leaving soon, and I wanted no deeper ties to Julian Godin. When Mr. Hughes drove me back to the Godin estate, Isabelle’s daughter, Kate, was in the living room playing with blocks. After the incident, Julian had moved them both into the house. I’d heard of Isabelle long before I married Julian. She was his first love, the symbol of his youthful rebellion against his powerful family. The moment Kate saw me, she shrieked and charged, throwing a wooden block that hit me squarely in the stomach. “Bad woman! Get out! Don’t steal my daddy!” The force of her push sent me staggering backward. My lower back slammed into the sharp corner of a coffee table, and I gasped, a sharp pain radiating through me. “Kate!” Isabelle cried, rushing to scoop up the child. Her eyes immediately reddened. “I’m so sorry, Ava. She’s just a child, she doesn’t understand…” She trailed off, her own tears starting to fall as if she were the one who had been wronged. “Ava, what are you doing?” Julian’s sharp voice cut through the air as he strode down the stairs. He instinctively moved to shield Isabelle and Kate behind him. I opened my mouth to speak, but Isabelle’s sobs grew louder. “Julian, Kate has been having nightmares. She dreams that Ava is going to throw her out… She’s too young to understand adult problems.” She dabbed at her eyes, then gave Kate a subtle pat on the back. The little girl immediately launched herself at Julian. “Daddy, I don’t want a stepmom! She’ll throw me and Mommy out on the street!” Julian’s face darkened. He lifted Kate into his arms, his glare fixed on me. “What did you say to her?” I lost all desire to even try to explain. I just stood there in silence. Isabelle continued her performance, her voice thick with manufactured grief. “It’s all my fault. It’s because of my humble background that she has to live with the stigma of being an illegitimate child. Now that Miss Sterling is the real Mrs. Godin, we…” Julian cut her off, his voice turning to ice as he addressed me. “Get this straight, Ava. The thing in your womb is nothing more than a tool to appease my family. The moment that child is born, I’m sending it abroad.” He took a menacing step toward me. From the safety of his arms, Kate stuck her tongue out at me. “Now,” he commanded, “apologize to Kate.” I looked at their perfect family tableau. I was so close to being free. I didn’t want any more trouble. “I’m sorry,” I said, bowing my head, the words coming out numb and automatic. “I’m sorry. It was my fault.” My compliance didn’t seem to satisfy him. His brow remained tightly furrowed. Isabelle, however, was pleased, graciously accepting my apology. To “make it up” to them, Julian cleared his schedule and took them on a lavish vacation. They went on cruises, he bought her jewelry at a Sotheby’s auction, they even flew to see the northern lights. Isabelle took great pleasure in sending me photos every single day. I would reply with the same robotic blessing. Hope you have a wonderful time. Who Julian was with, or what he did, meant nothing to me. In my heart, I was just counting down the days until I could be myself again. 4 As the exchange date drew closer, I started packing a little bit each day. The quiet hope for a future that was my own began to kindle inside me. Tonight, I had just zipped up the last suitcase when a call came from the hospital. The nurse’s voice was urgent. “Miss Sterling? The patient in room 703, his condition has taken a sudden turn for the worse. He might not… he might not make it through the night.” My hands froze. I didn’t even grab a coat. I flew down the stairs, my bare feet slapping against the cold marble. I reached the grand foyer just as the front door swung open. Julian and Isabelle were back from their trip, loaded down with shopping bags. “Well, well, Miss Sterling. Where are you off to so late at night?” Isabelle blocked my path, a fake smile plastered on her face. I had no time for her. I tried to move around her, but she grabbed my arm, her expression shifting to one of mock concern. “You look terribly pale, Ava. Is something wrong?” I tried to pull away, but her grip was like iron. A cruel, playful glint flashed in her eyes. She could see my desperation and was enjoying it. Thinking of the nurse’s words, a surge of adrenaline hit me. I tore my arm from her grasp. “Get out of my way,” I snarled. “Who do you think you are to stop me?” “Daddy!” Kate shrieked, startled by my outburst, and buried her face in Julian’s chest. “Auntie Ava is scary… she’s like a wicked witch…” Isabelle flinched, then immediately dissolved into tears, looking helplessly at Julian. “I… I was just worried about her… The doctor said she needs to rest during the treatment.” Julian’s expression was thunderous. His gaze flickered down to my bare feet and back up to my face. “Go back to your room. I’ll have the family doctor come and see you.” “No,” I said, shaking my head frantically. “I’m fine. I don’t need a doctor. I have to go out. Right now.” My defiance made his eyes harden. “I said, go back to your room.” Every second we stood there felt like an eternity of torture. I clenched my jaw. “I have to leave. It’s important. I have to—” “You’re not going anywhere until the doctor has checked on you,” Isabelle interrupted, her voice dripping with false concern. “Nothing is more important than the baby, Ava. You should go upstairs.” Julian gave a subtle nod, and two housekeepers moved to grab my arms. Panic exploded in my chest. “I have to go out!” I screamed. “Don’t touch me!” They froze, looking uncertainly at Julian. He didn’t even glance at me, turning instead to comfort the sobbing Kate. “Take the madam back to her room.” His voice was flat and final. “Do not let her leave without my permission.”

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I got home late, exhausted and starving, shoveling cold pasta into my mouth when Alan spoke. “You look pathetic.” Jimmy chimed in from the living room. “Mom, you work hard, but you’ll never be like Miss Lily.” He walked over, disappointed. “The way you eat is ugly. You’re not feminine. You’re just a replaceable housekeeper. Miss Lily is graceful—you can’t compare.” I remembered Jimmy’s preschool conference—me in my wrinkled pantsuit, him sullen afterward. Now I knew why. He was ashamed of me. I tossed the leftovers and ordered expensive takeout. Then, a promotion email popped up—Head of European Division. The one I’d refused for years to be home for them. Not anymore. But when I finally let them have their perfect fantasy family, they didn’t celebrate. They fell apart. 1 A few hundred dollars’ worth of food arrived at our door. I unpacked it all, laying it out on the dining table—lobster, Wagyu steak, things I hadn’t let myself dream of since the wedding. Alan’s eyes widened. “Are you insane?!” he bellowed. “How many times have I told you we need to save money? There was perfectly good food in the fridge, and you go and blow our budget on this?” He sneered. “What, because I called you pathetic and Jimmy said you’re not as good as his teacher, you throw a tantrum with my credit card? We weren’t wrong! Now get away from the table. What kind of mother steals food from her own child?” I ignored him, savoring each bite of the meal I deserved. If I didn’t like something, I tossed it directly into the trash can, not even glancing at my son, who was staring at the feast with wide, hungry eyes. Jimmy, spoiled rotten by years of my indulgence, immediately began to wail. He charged the table, swiping his arm across it, sending hundreds of dollars of food crashing to the floor. Then he lunged at me, his sticky, sauce-covered hands grabbing at my clothes. “You’re a bad mommy! You’re not as good as Miss Lily! I don’t want you! I want Miss Lily to be my mom!” A year ago, those words would have shattered me. I would have done anything to win back his affection. But tonight, something inside me had finally clicked into place. I looked down at my expensive work trousers, now smeared with grease and grime, and without a second thought, I pushed him away. “Fine. Go ask Miss Lily to be your mother, then.” He stumbled and fell, his fake sobs turning into genuine shrieks of pain and shock. Alan rushed to scoop him up, cradling him protectively while glaring at me. “Sarah, what the hell is wrong with you? Taking your anger out on a child?” “This is how you act like a mother? No wonder he prefers his preschool teacher over you!” The words were like needles in my heart. These were the two people I had dedicated the last five years of my life to. The year Alan and I married, I was slated to lead the company’s expansion into Europe. It was my dream—to build an entire division from the ground up. But a month before my flight, Alan had been relentless, and on the day I was supposed to leave, I discovered I was pregnant. He convinced me to stay for the baby, promising he’d take care of us, that our family would be his world. So I stayed. I took a step back, refusing promotion after promotion for five years, all to make sure my husband and son had a hot, nutritious meal on the table every single night. Meanwhile, I ran myself ragged. Some nights, after a brutal shift, I’d come home to find they hadn’t even saved me any leftovers. I’d just drink a glass of cold water and chew on a stale piece of bread. And for all my sacrifice? In their eyes, I was no better than the hired help. They resented me for being too busy with work and home to look perfect, for becoming a frumpy housewife they were embarrassed by. They never once stopped to think about why I had become that way. I looked at Alan, my voice cold and steady. “Was I wrong? He’s the one screaming for Miss Lily to be his mother. Let him go find her. See if she wants him.” My detached tone seemed to enrage Alan even more. “Are you really going to hold a child’s words against him, Sarah? Fine! I’ll take him to Lily right now! You’re the one pushing us away. Don’t you dare regret this!” Seeing no flicker of protest in my eyes, he scoffed, grabbed his car keys, and stormed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him with our son in his arms. A moment later, I heard the roar of his engine as he peeled out of the driveway. I stood there for a beat, not an ounce of hesitation in me. Then I turned and walked straight to our bedroom to pack my bags. I was done. As I clicked the final latch on my suitcase, my phone rang. It was my boss, Sarah Evans, the one who had brought me into the company when it was just a startup. “Sarah?” she said, her voice serious. “This is it. The last spot for the European division. If you say no this time, there’s nothing more I can do for you. It’s now or never.” She had always believed in me, always wanted to pull me up into management with her. But for five years, I had chosen my family, letting her down time and time again. This was her last effort. I had to take it. “Thank you for everything, Sarah,” I said, my voice clear. “I’ll take the transfer.” There was a pause on the other end, followed by a burst of relieved laughter. “You finally came to your senses! When a woman loses herself in her family, Sarah, even her own husband and child stop seeing her value!” I managed a small smile. “Don’t worry. I’m ready to work.” 2 Alan transferred a couple thousand a month into a joint account for “household expenses.” It was never enough. The cost of raising a child, from diapers to an elite preschool, was astronomical. But he never saw that. He just thought I was sitting at home, living a life of leisure. My entire salary went to supporting him and Jimmy. The portion I kept for myself was laughable. Now, I was canceling orders for their new clothes, returning shoes I’d bought for them, and letting the utility bills sit unopened. Suddenly, my own salary felt like a fortune. I was finally learning the most important lesson: you can’t set yourself on fire to keep others warm. I opened my laptop and started reviewing the files Sarah had sent me. As I worked, a notification popped up. A new social media post from Lily. The picture was of her and Alan at a candlelit dinner. They were smiling at each other, a sweet, intimate moment. Jimmy was wedged between them, clutching their sleeves like they were already his real parents. It was a perfect portrait of a happy family. Her caption read: He just heard me mention I’d never had a candlelit dinner and poof! Mature men really know how to make a girl’s heart flutter! This is the romantic married life I’ve always dreamed of! With a husband and son like this, why would you ever want to go home? Nausea churned in my stomach. In five years of marriage, Alan and I had never once had a candlelit dinner. He always said things like that were “a silly waste of money for a married couple.” Apparently, it wasn’t the money. It was that he never thought I was worth it. Out of sight, out of mind. I blocked her number and all her social media accounts. A few days later, Sarah called again. The flight was booked for a week from today. I had to get everything in order. The work piled up, and I dove into it, grateful for the distraction. I spent three days at a downtown hotel. For three days, I had no contact with Alan. I thought it would be hard, that I would feel the gaping hole left by the life I had known for five years. But it wasn’t. Having time that was purely my own was… liberating. It was blissfully, beautifully quiet. I had an appointment with my lawyer that afternoon to discuss the divorce papers, but before I could leave, I got a call from the preschool. It was Jimmy’s main teacher, asking why I hadn’t shown up for the Family Sports Day. I’d never been told about it. And the person responsible for parent communications was, of course, Lily. I didn’t care about her petty games and was about to make an excuse, but then I remembered: the school always sent notifications to both legal guardians. I needed to go there one last time to officially remove my name and contact information from Jimmy’s file. I didn’t want to be bothered with these calls once I was on the other side of the ocean. “I’m on my way,” I told the teacher. 3 After the call, I asked my lawyer to draft a preliminary divorce agreement. I needed the paperwork to officially unbind myself as Jimmy’s contact at the school. After today, whatever happened to him there would no longer be my problem. By the time I arrived, the Sports Day was in full swing. Jimmy didn’t look like a boy who was missing his mother. He was bouncing with excitement, cheering at the top of his lungs. “Go, Dad! Go, Mom!” I was standing right here. Who was he calling “Mom”? I followed his gaze to the field and saw them. Alan and Lily, tangled together in a three-legged race. Their faces were flushed, their laughter echoing across the field, the air between them thick with a flirty, undeniable chemistry. My cold, stony expression must have stood out in the sea of smiling parents. Lily saw me first. She let out a little gasp, instinctively pushing Alan away before rushing over to me, her face a perfect mask of apology. “Sarah, please don’t misunderstand! Alan and I are just friends!” she pleaded. “Jimmy was so sad that you weren’t here, and all the other kids had their moms competing. He begged me to fill in for a little while. If you’re upset, I’ll quit right now!” Before she could finish, Jimmy ran up, positioning himself in front of Lily like a tiny, furious bodyguard. He glared at me. “You bad woman! What are you doing here?! Miss Lily is my mom now! I don’t need you!” Alan followed, his expression disapproving. “You’re the one who threw the fit, Sarah. You can’t just show up and expect us to drop everything for you. If you apologize to me and Jimmy, properly, we can let you take part in the rest of the events.” He stood there, waiting, expecting me to crumble and beg for forgiveness like I always had. I just frowned. “Who told you I was here for the Sports Day? I have other business to take care of. Get out of my way.” My dismissal only made Lily look more wounded. Her eyes welled up, her lip trembling. “Sarah, it’s all my fault! Blame me, please, just don’t be angry with Alan and Jimmy! I just couldn’t bear to see Jimmy feeling left out. That’s the only reason I agreed to participate.” As she spoke, she bowed deeply, a full ninety degrees. To any outsider, it looked as though I was bullying a kind, compassionate teacher. Murmurs and judgmental glances started rippling through the crowd. I was done wasting time on this drama. I turned to leave, but Alan grabbed my arm, his face dark with anger. “Sarah! Have you not caused enough trouble? Apologize to Lily. Now!” His grip was painfully tight. “Stop playing these games. You’re the one who pushed us away, remember? You deliberately waited until halfway through the event to show up, just to ambush Lily and make her look bad, to announce to everyone that you’re still my wife! I see right through your pathetic little schemes, and I won’t let you bully her! Either you apologize in front of everyone, or you get lost!” His baseless accusations were so ridiculous I almost laughed. I wrenched my arm from his grasp. “Get off me! Are you deaf? I said I’m not here for your stupid Sports Day! I couldn’t care less! You and your son can play happy families with whoever you want. It has nothing to do with me!” As I pulled away, Lily stumbled backward as if I had shoved her, collapsing to the ground in a heap. This time, the tears flowed freely, though she choked back her sobs, looking utterly heartbroken. That was all it took. Jimmy, her little knight in shining armor, launched himself at me like a cannonball, slamming his head directly into my stomach. The force of the impact knocked the wind out of me. I staggered back several steps before crumpling to the ground, my vision swimming with black spots as a sharp, searing pain shot through my abdomen. Through the haze, I heard Jimmy’s vicious little voice. “You’re an evil woman! I won’t let you hurt my mommy!” The contents of my purse spilled across the pavement, and the folded divorce papers slid out. Before I could reach for them, Lily snatched them up. She glanced at the document, and her hand flew to her mouth in a theatrical gasp. “These… these are divorce papers! Sarah, are you… are you divorcing Alan?!” 4 The sight of those papers made Lily’s eyes light up, but her expression was one of pure horror. She scrambled to her knees in front of me, bowing her head repeatedly. “Sarah, marriage is a sacred thing! If… if it’s because of me that you and Alan are having problems, then I am so, so sorry! I promise I will never see Alan or Jimmy again! Jimmy is still so young; he needs his mother!” Alan, who had looked momentarily panicked at the word “divorce”—a word I’d never used, no matter how bad our fights got—was visibly relieved by Lily’s performance. He and Jimmy rushed to her side, one helping her up, the other gently checking her forehead for scrapes. Then Alan turned to me, his face a mask of fury. “I thought giving you a few days to cool off would help, but instead you resort to threats like this? You think waving divorce papers around will make us come crawling back? Let me tell you, Sarah, it won’t work!” So, he’d been deliberately ignoring me. He and Jimmy hadn’t been home, which meant he didn’t even know I’d already moved out. I didn’t bother correcting him. Instead, I looked at the perfect little trio they formed and let out a cold laugh. “With what you and Lily have been doing? I have more than enough grounds to divorce you a thousand times over.” My statement captured the attention of every parent nearby. Lily flushed with shame, instinctively grabbing Alan’s sleeve for protection. “Sarah, watch what you say!” Alan hissed, his voice low and threatening. I raised mine. “You want me to air all your dirty laundry right here? The candlelit dinners? The weekend trips you took with my son while I was working? Where have you been staying these last few nights, Alan? At her place?” I pulled out my phone and displayed the screenshots of Lily’s boastful social media posts for all to see. My voice grew sharper. “Anyone looking at these would think you two are the married couple, and I’m just some stranger!” A wave of whispers spread through the crowd. “Oh my god, is that a picture of them in bed together? That’s not right…” “I knew it. That teacher always looked like trouble. She’s not here for the kids; she’s looking for a rich husband.” “The last time I was here for a conference, she barely gave me the time of day, but when my husband asked a question, she was all over him! I bet Jimmy’s dad isn’t the only one she’s been cozying up to!” The accusations struck Lily like lightning. Her face went pale. She had posted those pictures to taunt me, thinking I was too meek and quiet to ever fight back. She never imagined that the quietest people can have the most explosive breaking points. With one move, I had threatened to destroy the career she had worked so hard to build. She couldn’t find the words to defend herself. Tears streamed down her face, and she turned and fled. Alan didn’t hesitate. He hauled me to my feet, and his palm cracked across my face. His features were twisted with rage. “I think you’ve actually gone insane! Spreading vicious rumors about Lily in public! You just wait, Sarah. You are going to pay for this.” He scooped Jimmy into his arms and chased after her, leaving me alone in the center of a circle of gawking, gossiping strangers. 5 It took Alan a while to calm Lily down. When he and Jimmy finally returned home, they were hit by the stench. The food Jimmy had thrown on the floor three days ago was still there, a congealed, greasy mess that reflected the dim light. The entire apartment reeked of sour, rotting garbage. Alan gagged, stumbling back out the door to retch against the hallway wall. It finally dawned on him: in the days he’d been gone, I hadn’t come back either. There was no other explanation for the state of the apartment. A fresh wave of fury washed over him. He grabbed his phone and dialed my number, but all he got was a busy signal. He knew that sound. It was the same one I heard whenever he blocked my calls. The realization that I had blocked him sent him into a rage. He threw his phone against the wall, where it shattered. “Fine! So you’ve grown a backbone, have you? You’re blocking my calls now? You want to run away? Go on, then! See if I care! Stay away forever!” His first instinct was to punish me by cutting off my access to his credit card, his usual power move. But when he checked the account, he found I had already unlinked myself. For the first time, a sliver of doubt crept into his mind. Was this real? Was I actually leaving? Meanwhile, the story of what happened at the preschool had gone viral online among the parent groups. Lily was suspended from her job, and she spent her days at home, crying. Alan and Jimmy felt terrible for her, but as the other parties involved, anything they said in her defense would be dismissed. The only person who could clear her name was me. But Alan couldn’t find me. He was at a loss. One evening, Lily looked at him, her eyes gleaming with a new idea. “I know a way,” she said softly. “But I’m not sure you’ll be willing to do it.” After she explained, Alan hesitated. “Isn’t that going too far?” Even Jimmy pouted. “The house is a mess since Mom left. I don’t want to push her away again. Miss Lily, maybe you should just say you’re sorry.” Lily’s tears started instantly. “My reputation is ruined! You two are the only ones I have left! If you’re turning on me too, then what’s the point of even living?” That was enough. Alan gritted his teeth and agreed. That woman needs to be taught a lesson, he thought. Then she’ll learn not to defy me. We still need her around the house.

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Rumor has it the Best Actress is a homewrecker, caught in a scandalous affair. At the awards ceremony, she set the record straight right on stage. “That’s not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend.” Down in the audience, I was completely floored. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! 1 The A-list actress Vivian Monroe was chasing me, and the whole of Hollywood knew it. It got so bad that even the stray dogs on the studio backlot would give me a look that said, So, Susan, have you said yes to Vivian yet? “No, no, NO!” I shrieked, finally snapping at one of them. “How many times do I have to say it? I did not say yes!” Just as I was losing my mind at a golden retriever, Vivian appeared. She held out a check. I instinctively recoiled, clutching my chest. “What do you think you’re doing? I didn’t come to Hollywood to sell my body.” “I came here to outlast everyone!” I declared. “I’ll watch the druggies, the gamblers, the liars, and the creeps burn out, and then it’ll be my turn to shine!” Vivian simply flipped her wrist, revealing the number written on the check. Pfft. A measly… My eyes widened as I counted the zeroes. One, ten, hundred, thousand… holy… mother… of God. “A billion dollars?” I looked up, my voice trembling slightly. “Are you trying to buy my soul?” A flicker of fear crossed my face. “A billion dollars,” Vivian said, her voice smooth as silk, “to be my girlfriend for seven days.” I stood there, blinking, my mind racing. In this world—the one I’d woken up in—I was an actress who’d shot to fame overnight thanks to a low-budget web series. The critics had called me a star born from the heavens. But the hype faded as quickly as it came, and soon I was a nobody again, completely off the Hollywood map. Well, not a complete nobody. I was still famous for one thing: Vivian Monroe, the titan of the film industry who had swept every major award, was in love with me. After my fifteen minutes of fame were up, my paychecks got smaller and smaller. I thought my first seven-figure deal was the beginning, but it turned out to be my peak. But if I dated Vivian for seven days, I could get a billion dollars. Suddenly, outlasting anyone seemed like a terrible plan. I gingerly took the check from her, then paused. “Is that pre-tax or post-tax?” Vivian’s brow furrowed almost imperceptibly. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping with you.” I gasped, mortified. “No, not that!” I scrambled to explain. “I mean T-A-X! The money that goes to the government!” She just looked more confused. “Which one?” Right. An A-lister like her probably didn’t spend her time on internet meme pages. 2 With a billion-dollar check in hand, the first thing I did was buy a sprawling villa right on the coast. The second was to drop ten grand into my small fan community’s server chat. Finally, remembering I had a job to do, I gave Vivian a call. “Hello, my generous benefactor. What’s on the agenda for today?” Even though she was only a year older than me, she was signing the checks, so a little respect was in order. “I have an awards ceremony tonight,” Vivian’s cool voice came through the phone. My heart soared. “Excellent! I’m sure you’re swamped, so I’ll let you get to it. Have a great time!” I was about to hang up, marveling at how easy this gig was, when her voice stopped me. “You’re coming with me.” Wait, what? I hadn’t had a project out in eight months. What was I going to do at an awards show? Besides, I didn’t even have an invitation. As if reading my mind, Vivian added, “The invitation and a car will be at your door in thirty minutes.” The benefactor had spoken. All I could do was offer my thanks. “Wow. Your efficiency is terrifying.” I had no idea that “terrifying” was just the beginning. Later that night, Vivian was on stage accepting her Golden Griffin award. The host asked for her acceptance speech. She stood at the podium, her gaze drifting over the audience until it landed squarely on me. “I’d like to take this moment to clarify something for all my fans,” she began, her voice ringing through the auditorium. “There is nothing going on between myself and the actor Louis. I have never interfered in his relationship with any other starlet.” She paused, a small smile playing on her lips. “The person I’m in love with is Susan Summers.” “So, no, I’m not some desperate homewrecker. That’s not true. Susan has already agreed to be my girlfriend.” The entire room erupted. Everyone was cheering, celebrating the queen of Hollywood finding her true love. Everyone except me. I was just staring, dumbfounded. When did I agree to that? We were just trying things out for seven days! On day one of our billion-dollar contract, I’d already been played. I knew this money wouldn’t be easy to earn. This was way, way worse than just sleeping with her. As Vivian finished her speech, the camera operator swung a lens right onto my face. I had to instantly plaster on a smile, a perfect eight-teeth-baring grin, while my mind was screaming. You magnificent bastard! You absolute, magnificent bastard! 3 As soon as she accepted her award, Vivian whisked me out of the ceremony. Inside the back of a stretch Rolls-Royce, I finally found my voice. “Why’d we leave so early?” “Any later,” Vivian said, her tone dry, “and we’d be getting invitations to be passed around directors’ hotel rooms like party favors.” “Really? That’s never happened to me.” I frowned, thinking back. “No one’s ever even hinted at anything like that.” Vivian glanced at me, a hint of a smirk in her voice. “Why do you think I made sure the entire industry knew I was pursuing you?” My lips parted. “To… to keep the creeps away from me?” Vivian chuckled softly. “Not as clueless as I thought.” A wave of warmth washed over me. Wow. Maybe I’d misjudged her. She was actually… kind of a good person. I gazed out the window at the glittering city lights, a genuine smile on my face. “So, where are we headed? Are you taking me somewhere fun?” “Mhm,” Vivian hummed, her voice flat. “We’re going to have some fun. In my apartment.” In an instant, the smile froze on my face. 4 PH-1314. I stared at the number on Vivian’s penthouse door. “Are you secretly a hopeless romantic or something?” I asked. Vivian’s mouth twitched, and she pulled me inside before I could say more. My jaw dropped as I took in her apartment. A fluffy pink couch. A pink coffee table. A pink dining set. Pink… everything. The only thing that wasn’t pink was the walls. I was stunned. The ice queen of Hollywood was secretly a Barbie girl. “You really like pink, huh?” I asked, bewildered. “I hate it,” she replied instantly. I blinked, processing this. “Well,” I said, a slow grin spreading across my face. “I know someone who does.” Vivian looked at me. “Who?” I met her gaze, my eyes filled with the conviction of someone about to swear a sacred vow. “Me. I love pink.” Before she could respond, I launched into a heartfelt speech. “Vivian, look, I know you like me, but you really didn’t have to redecorate your entire apartment for me. It’s a lot of pressure. And besides, this whole thing is over in seven days. I’m worried you’ll be surrounded by all this pink and have a complete breakdown when I’m gone.” I paused for dramatic effect, then patted her shoulder consolingly. “But hey, for a billion dollars, I’ll throw in some after-care service. If you start missing me, just give me a call, okay?” Vivian rubbed her temples, looking like she’d just been hit with a wave of secondhand embarrassment. She walked into her bedroom and returned two minutes later, thrusting a set of pajamas into my arms. “Go take a shower.” I looked down. She’d even provided a full set of undergarments. Wait a second. How did she know my size? Had she been researching me that intensely? Oh my god, this was so embarrassing! And she wanted me to shower the moment we got home! Which meant, after the shower… “What are you thinking about?” Vivian waved a hand in front of my face. I snapped back to reality, my cheeks burning. “Nothing. Just… wondering where I’ll be sleeping?” Vivian turned and pointed back toward the bedroom she’d just come from. “In there. With me.” I swallowed hard. “I don’t know if that’s… appropriate. You said I didn’t have to sleep with you.” Vivian paused. “Is just sharing a bed considered sleeping with someone now? Relax,” she promised. “I’m not going to do anything to you.” Why did that sound exactly like something a player would say? Seeing my hesitation, she added, “I just want you to read me a bedtime story.” I stared at her, completely baffled. Vivian Monroe was paying me a billion dollars… to read her a story? This was way weirder than any casting couch proposition. “Just a story? That’s it?” I had to confirm. “That’s it. Now go wash up. You first, then me.” 5 After my shower, I was sitting propped against the headboard while Vivian lay tucked under the covers. She reached over, opened her nightstand drawer, and pulled out a book, tossing it to me. I read the title aloud. “365 Bedtime Stories for Children.” Then I saw the fine print at the bottom. “Suitable for ages 3 to 9.” If I remembered correctly, Vivian Monroe was twenty-nine years old. Who the hell, at twenty-nine, pays a billion dollars to have someone read them children’s stories?! I didn’t buy it. She had to be up to something. For the sake of my virtue, I’d have to sleep with one eye open tonight. “Is there a problem? Why aren’t you reading?” Vivian’s voice cut through my thoughts. The benefactor had spoken. I quickly sat up straight, opened the book, and began reading in my most soothing, storyteller voice. … I don’t know how long I read. All I remember is being so exhausted that my yawns became more frequent than my words, my speech slurring into a drowsy mumble. In the hazy moments before sleep took me, I felt Vivian’s fingers intertwine with mine, and I thought I heard her ask me something. But I drifted off before I could make out the words. 6 I woke up in the middle of the night, jolted awake by a stomachache of epic proportions. I scrambled out of bed, muttering curses under my breath as I bolted for the bathroom. That’s what I get for gorging on all those fancy imported snacks in Vivian’s dressing room. As I stepped out of the bedroom, I heard a strange, choked sound. It sounded like someone was crying. I froze. “Vivian, you have to come with me…” I turned back to the bed, only to find it empty. My brow furrowed. Was that Vivian crying? I flicked on the hallway light and followed the sound. It was coming from the main bathroom. “Vivian? Is that you in there?” I knocked on the locked door. The crying stopped. A hoarse voice answered, “Who is it?” “Who else would it be?” I said with a sigh. “It’s me, Susan.” The door swung open with a bang, and a reeking-of-alcohol Vivian practically fell into my arms. “Susan, I love you so much,” she slurred. My body went rigid. My hands hovered in the air, unsure of where to land. Vivian pressed her face into the crook of my neck. “Susan, we’ve been together for nine years. How could you just… stop loving me?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Susan, why did you forget me? What did I do wrong? Tell me, and I’ll fix it. I’ll change.” Her words sent a shiver down my spine. I’d never been with Vivian. Where did nine years come from? Or falling out of love? Or forgetting? Wait a minute. Was she mistaking me for someone else? Did Vivian have some epic, tragic love affair before she met me? And was she dumped, left heartbroken, forced to find a replacement for her lost love? Which would make me… the substitute? Oh my god. Was the story I’d woken up in some kind of tropey substitute-lover romance? This was so damn cliché. Vivian pressed closer, her hot breath ghosting across my neck. “Susan, you used to read to me, but you’d never get more than three sentences out before you’d turn off the light, pull me into your arms, and we’d…” A fresh wave of goosebumps erupted on my skin. I cut her off before she could finish. “Vivian, I would love to hear all about your tragic backstory later, but right now, I really, really have to take a crap!” With that, I pushed her away, ducked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind me.

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My father, buried under a mountain of debt, drugged me and delivered me to a powerhouse’s hotel room. Just an hour ago, I was on my knees in front of that same man, begging him. Begging him to be merciful, to spare my father and me. The tycoon, his leather shoes gleaming, had chuckled down at me. “And what, exactly, do you have that I could possibly want?” Now, he was walking toward my bed. I was burning up, my consciousness fading, but I fought against him with what little strength I had left. He ignored it. And began to push a string of prayer beads inside me, one by one. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice a low caress, “you’re finally mine.” 1 Hot. So incredibly hot. My whole body was on fire… I didn’t know what was happening to me, only that a searing heat was spreading through my veins, a fever that wouldn’t break. Just an hour ago, I had been kneeling before Sebastian Croft. I was pleading with the city’s most formidable tycoon, begging him to extend the deadline on the thirty-million-dollar debt my father and I owed him. Sebastian was dressed in a sharp black suit, his dark, heavy-lidded eyes half-closed as he held a cigarette between his fingers, lost in thought. I’d never dealt with him before, had no idea how to read the depths of his mind, so I just kept my eyes lowered, playing the part of the obedient supplicant. If he would just show a sliver of mercy, this whole humiliating ordeal would be worth it… He crossed one long leg over the other, the polished leather of his shoe so close it nearly grazed my cheek. His strong, slender fingers hooked around my tie, yanking me forward until my trembling face was inches from his. He exhaled a perfect ring of smoke right at me. “And how, exactly, do you plan to beg me, hmm?” The smoke stung my eyes, bringing tears. I could only look at him, my vision blurring. “…Anything you want, Mr. Croft. I know you don’t need anything, but I can give you everything my family has left as collateral.” Sebastian raised an eyebrow. Through the hazy smoke, I thought I saw the ghost of a smile touch his lips. He seemed to be in a good mood. He leaned in, his lips brushing my ear, his tone light, as if sharing a joke. “And what, exactly, do you have that I could possibly want?” That one sentence sent me plummeting from hopeful anticipation straight into the depths of hell. The moment I was out of that private room, I turned and kicked the wall in a blind rage. “Croft, you son of a bitch! Fucking pretentious asshole! You promised you’d help if I came to you in person, you fucking liar! Fine! I hope you have a son born without an asshole and that your ancestors curse you from the grave!” The cursing didn’t help. The memory of what he’d done to me, the casual humiliation, made my blood boil. I spat on the ground, my teeth clenched. “That fucking old man. He’s probably got erectile dysfunction, that’s why he’s such a bitter bastard. Can’t even keep his hands off other men. Back in the day, they would’ve drowned pigs like him! The world is a sick, twisted place!” Around the corner, the hallway was deathly silent. Sebastian’s assistant didn’t dare look up, the temperature around him having dropped to freezing. Under the dim corridor lights, the man stood perfectly still, the line of his jaw sharp and unforgiving. His voice, when he spoke, was a low, magnetic rumble, several shades darker than before. “Did I just tell my team to grant him an extension on the debt?” The assistant nodded meekly. “Yes, sir.” Sebastian tapped the ash from his cigarette, his face a blank mask. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said, his voice deceptively calm. “Tell his father that if he wants that extension, he can deliver his precious son to my bed.” “I’m going to personally teach him the meaning of a sick, twisted world.” 2 It was too hot. I kicked off the blankets, desperate for relief, and tugged at the already disheveled remains of my shirt. A deep, feverish blush was creeping up my neck and across my cheeks. I fumbled with the buckle of my belt, trying to free the aching pressure building in my pants, but my fingers wouldn’t cooperate. What the hell… this can’t be happening… Shame burned through me, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. That glass of water my father gave me before he left… it had to be it. But it was too late now. The door to the room swung open. A tall, imposing figure walked slowly to my bedside, looking down at me with an air of absolute authority. The moment I saw Sebastian Croft, the last of my fight drained away. My eyes, wet with unshed tears, glared at him with pure fire. He leaned down, ignoring my feverish struggles, and his long, powerful fingers spread me open. “Such a good boy,” he purred. “Knowing to get rid of the obstacles yourself.” If looks could kill, this perverted old bastard would be in a thousand pieces. But under the drug’s influence, my broken sobs were swallowed by his invading tongue. My resistance melted into breathless moans. “What was that, my dear?” My lips trembled as I pressed them to his ear. “Sebastian, I’ll fucking kill you, you sick freak… ngh…” I fell silent. Because the string of prayer beads he always wore wrapped around his wrist was now entering my body, one by one. I was drenched in sweat, speechless. My mind screamed, Sick freak, filthy old lech… I cursed him until my nose was red and I couldn’t breathe, and then, suddenly, the fight went out of me. I grabbed his hand as he reached for a tissue to wipe me clean, and just stared at him with wide, pleading eyes. “You old bastard,” I whimpered, “don’t just watch. Help me catch my breath!” He may have misunderstood. He slowly leaned down and kissed my lips. “See? So much more obedient when you don’t have the energy to curse me.” His words nearly made me pass out from pure rage. I’m done! I can’t live like this! But I didn’t die. Afterwards, I huddled under the covers like a coward in its shell, refusing to come out no matter what Sebastian said. This was a matter of principle. A straight man’s principles. Just because Sebastian Croft was twisted didn’t mean I had to be! I muffled my voice with the blanket. “Sebastian, do you realize this is kidnapping? I could have you arrested for this!” He was unfazed. “Your father was the one who drugged you.” “Impossible…” I shot up in bed. It had to be this old bastard. He used his power to force my father! Sebastian fastened his cufflinks, his gaze cool. “Consider it a down payment.” “…” This is disgusting. What a vile, black-hearted scheme! Seeing the smug, satisfied look on his face only fueled my anger. But there was nothing I could do. What was done, was done. I couldn’t exactly return the favor—the size difference alone made that a losing proposition for me. “Fine,” I said, grabbing my pants from the floor. “Then our debt is settled. Wiped clean!” I hadn’t taken a single step before I heard his voice, cold and menacing, from behind me. “Who said anything about wiping it clean…?” “The deal I made with your father was one million per session.” 3 Don’t get angry. Don’t get angry. It’s not worth dying over. If that bastard Sebastian was still breathing, I couldn’t let myself die of a rage-induced aneurysm. He’d probably laugh at me in the afterlife. I slowly crawled back under the covers and tried to present myself. That didn’t feel right, so I shifted positions. A million a pop, huh? Forty-something more times and I’d be free. Just then, a cold draft hit me, and my ass cheeks clenched involuntarily. But Sebastian didn’t move. I let out a bitter laugh. “Croft, are you going to do this or not?” He had his eyes closed. What the hell? Now he was playing the gentleman? Then who was that sex-crazed demon from last night? I peeked out from under the blanket, my eyes drawn to the large, damp patch on his pajama pants. Just as I did, a large hand pushed my head back down and tucked the covers in around me. “Once every three days. Overexertion is bad for the body.” I almost coughed up blood. Did he think I was begging him to grace my humble abode? Was he a fucking monk all of a sudden? So many rules. At this rate, when would I ever pay off the debt? It’s not like you can force a horse to drink! Frustrated, I looked him up online. And what I found was that Sebastian Croft had, in fact, spent two years in seclusion at a monastery. Even after returning to secular life, he maintained a strict habit of drinking herbal medicine. No wonder the old house had caught fire. He was making up for lost time. I looked at his face—so deceptively serene, so holier-than-thou—and nodded to myself. Of course. Pretty monks are always… Mmph! My eyes shot open as his lips crashed down on mine. I heard him swallow, then his voice was a low whisper in my ear. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking. You’re not going anywhere until this debt is paid. You’re mine.” “My payment. My wife.” 4 Fine. Won’t let me leave, huh? I’ve got plenty of ways to make you. I turned Sebastian’s villa into my personal playground, banging on pots and pans, performing bizarre ritual dances, and generally causing as much chaos as humanly possible. I was hoping he’d get sick of me and kick me out. Unfortunately, the villa was miles from the city, and the rooms were soundproof. Sebastian was completely undisturbed. He even suggested I stop making a scene and use the time to get a Ph.D., offering to buy me all the research materials I needed. Getting a Ph.D. while getting screwed? Was he even human?! I’d already suffered through a bachelor’s and master’s in medicine; I wasn’t about to go back for more. So, when he had a guest over, I upped the ante. I threw myself on the floor and put on a one-man melodrama of a grieving widow, wailing and sobbing for all I was worth. The guest stared, his jaw on the floor. It took him a long moment to speak. “Your… wife is certainly multi-talented.” Beside him, Sebastian just smirked. “Isn’t he? I think so too.” “Next time, I’ll set up a stage for him,” I seethed. “You can invite all your friends over for the show. Wouldn’t want them to miss out on all this entertainment.” I was fuming. As soon as the guest left, I stormed into Sebastian’s room to confront him, only to find him drinking his herbal tonic. The bitter, pungent smell filled the room. It was clearly not your average herbal tea. I leaned in and sniffed. “How can you drink this stuff? It’s so bitter. Don’t you ever eat anything sweet?” He patted his lap, and I grudgingly sat down. Before I could react, he took a large gulp of the medicine. The next second, his hand was on the back of my head, and his warm, medicine-laced lips were on mine. “Mmph… Croft, you… glug…” I struggled. He pulled away, sighing contentedly. “It’s not bitter anymore.” I was furious. Of course it wasn’t! The medicine was in my stomach! What did he have to complain about? I spat a few times to get rid of the taste. How could he drink that stuff every single day without so much as a grimace? I had to give him credit. I gave him a thumbs-up. “Seriously, man, to be able to stomach that… you’re the real deal.” Sebastian looked down at my thumb. “It is bitter.” He smirked and gestured for me to lean closer. I did. His gaze darkened as he looked at my lips, and he gently wiped away a stray drop with his finger. “From now on, you can drink my medicine for me… You like it? I can have them bring you another bowl.” Another bowl? Was he insane? “Sebastian, I’ll kill your entire fucking family!” I roared. Sometimes, I swear he had selective hearing. I could be cursing his ancestors, and he’d act like he hadn’t heard a thing. He just raised a finger, his tone authoritative yet gentle. “The goji berries, angelica root, and red dates are all very nourishing. If you find it too bitter, I’ll have someone bring you some candied fruit.” Nourishing, huh? My eyes lit up with curiosity. Sebastian stroked my hair like I was a cat, then left to give some instructions. I sat in his chair as a servant brought in another bowl of the tonic and a plate of candied fruit. I took a small sip, then a piece of fruit. It wasn’t so bad. I just wondered what it was for. Was it good for the kidneys? Maybe it would make me strong enough to flip him over in a fight. “What’s this for?” I asked casually. The servant glanced at me. “It’s to… to treat one’s sexual orientation.” “Pfft!” I nearly sprayed a mouthful of tonic across the room. He was making me drink medicine for what? I wasn’t the one who was bent! The more I thought about it, the angrier I got. I finished off the rest of the candied fruit in a huff. That bastard. I hoped he died childless and alone. 5 Sebastian had his routines. Every Friday, he went to the temple to make a donation. And he insisted on dragging me along. I was dead tired in the car. He’d kept me up all night again. “Why are we going to a temple?” “To pray.” He paused, his eyes drifting down to my crotch. A slow smile spread across his face. “To pray for an heir for the Croft family.” I choked on my tea. “Pfft—are you insane? Who’s going to give birth?” He gave me a look that said, It’s not going to be me. Me? I’m a guy. Do I even have the right equipment for that? What was wrong with him? Had all that meditating turned his brain to mush? I looked up and realized he was just messing with me, which only made me angrier. I’m not a kid. When we got to the temple, a novice monk handed me a string of prayer beads. “So, what kind of services do you offer here?” I asked. The monk bowed his head. “We hold ceremonies, chant scriptures…” I raised an eyebrow. “Do you do funeral rites?” The monk paused. “…My condolences, young patron. For whom shall we pray? When… when did they pass?” I looked up and saw Sebastian a hundred yards away, talking with a long-haired man, his expression cold and all-business. I grinned. “My husband. He’s not dead yet. Can I place a pre-order?” The young monk had probably never heard of pre-ordering a funeral. I pointed toward Sebastian. “See that man over there? You can get the deposit from him directly.” My voice wasn’t quiet. They heard me. The long-haired man chuckled. “Sebastian. It seems you’ve brought home a real handful.” Sebastian glanced in our direction, then quickly looked away. “You could say that.” His complete lack of reaction surprised the other man. “You can tolerate that? You’re a saint.” He turned to look at Sebastian, and then his eyes widened in shock. “Holy shit. He’s cursing you like that, and you can still get a reaction? You’re a total masochist!” Finally, the man’s lips twitched. “You know what? You two really are a match made in heaven.”

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My brother told me to play innocent, to be the good boy, and seduce his business rival into falling for me. I glanced at the photo of George Chase: fiery red hair, a slim waist, a killer ass, and a wild, rebellious smirk. He was the very picture of a rich playboy who treated life like a game—fickle, demanding, and utterly impossible. But more importantly… My face went pale. “Adrian,” I said, my voice dead, “I’m straight…” Later. George was lying back, a cigarette dangling from his fingers, glaring at me. His pale, perfect thighs were covered in swollen, red bite marks. He kicked a leg out, his breath catching. “So this is what you call being ‘straight’?” “The only thing straight about you is how you can’t look away from me.” 1 On my third night back in the country, my own brother asked me to seduce a man. Dim light spilled over the corner booth of the club, a hazy, intoxicating glow. Adrian’s words from that morning echoed in my mind. “Remember, George Chase likes them innocent.” “You just got back from studying abroad. You’re exactly his type.” I was speechless with rage. “Adrian, is this the brilliant business strategy you stayed up all night cooking up?” I didn’t even know what this George guy looked like, and just because my brother was desperate to win some project, I was being sent to honey-trap his rival? A male rival, at that. The color drained from my face as I tried to refuse. “But… I’m straight.” “You owe me, Ethan.” Adrian slid a photograph across the table. “If I hadn’t protected you from the rest of the family back then, you wouldn’t have survived.” “For a spoiled heir like George Chase, relationships are just a game.” “I need you to break his heart. Wreck him so completely he can’t recover.” I stared at the man in the photo. Slim waist, killer ass, a handsome face framed by a defiant shock of red hair. He was grinning at the camera, a look of pure, untamed arrogance in his eyes. A bad man. The kind that was nothing but trouble. “Can you do it?” Adrian asked. My lips pressed into a thin line. I said nothing. 2 The truth was, I didn’t think I could. I didn’t even have to dig for dirt on George Chase; a quick search was all it took. 【HEIR TO CHASE CORP. SEEN WITH NEW MALE COMPANION AT GALA】 【TEN-DAY FLING ENDS, GEORGE CHASE REPORTEDLY SINGLE AGAIN】 【A COMPREHENSIVE LIST OF GEORGE CHASE’S EXES AND THEIR COMMON TRAITS】 It was all just tabloid trash. George Chase, the sole heir to the immense Chase family fortune, couldn’t care less about the family business. He spent his days indulging in every whim, a trail of broken hearts in his wake. His partners came and went like seasons. The only real thing he’d ever done was open a high-end club, a place where he and his fellow trust-fund brats could drink their lives away. It was only recently that his father, fed up with his antics, had tossed him a minor project bid to manage. As I lost myself in thought, a flash of crimson appeared at the bar, right in the spotlight. He was perched lazily on a high stool, his long legs crossed casually, a tailored suit clinging to the sharp lines of his body. I swirled the ice in my glass and stood up. 3 “The usual. Negroni,” George said, his voice a low, lazy drawl as he leaned against the bar. I slipped past the tips of his fiery hair and took the seat next to him. “I’ll have the same,” I told the bartender. “First time here? Don’t think I’ve seen you around,” George said, turning to give me a once-over, one eyebrow arching in playful curiosity. His gaze was intense, but as our eyes met, a strange calm settled over me. Adrian was right. George was interested. “Yeah, I just got back to the city,” I said, pitching my voice a little lower, a little softer, trying to sound younger than I was. “A friend recommended this place. Said the vibe was great.” A knowing smirk touched George’s lips. “Exchange student?” “Architecture major,” I said. “Took a year off to come back and deal with some family stuff.” A half-truth is always the easiest lie to sell. If everyone in this world wore a mask, why couldn’t I? “I get it.” George suddenly held out a hand, his smile pure mischief. “George Chase. I own this joint, ‘Nyx.’ Heard of me?” I shook my head, my fingers lightly brushing his. “Ethan. Should I have?” “Heh… Don’t look me up just yet.” The heat from his palm lingered on my skin for a second before he pulled away. “Trust your gut. First impressions are more fun that way, don’t you think?” I nodded, my eyes on him, but my mind was already made up. My first impression was set in stone. A hopeless, decadent playboy. The bartender slid two glasses toward us. Clink. George tapped his glass against mine. “A good boy like you should stay out of clubs, you know. You’ll get eaten alive.” As he said it, he casually unbuttoned his perfectly tailored suit jacket. He wore no tie, revealing the sharp, clean lines of his collarbones. The corners of his eyes tilted up in a devil-may-care smile. I had to admit, he was even more captivating in person than in the photograph. I shook my head, my voice warm. “With Mr. Chase watching over things, I’m sure I’ll be fine.” George’s eyes narrowed. “Just George is fine.” I took a sip of my drink, my voice soft. “George.” His wrist twitched. I heard him mutter a quiet “Fuck” under his breath. When he looked up again, the tips of his ears were faintly pink, though his smile was as cocky as ever. “You just get back? Where are you staying?” “A condo on the waterfront for now,” I said. “It’s a little empty, though. Doesn’t feel much like a home.” He grinned. “What a coincidence. I have a place over there. If you ever get bored, you know who to call.” Before I could answer, he turned to the bartender. “Get this gentleman… an ‘First Encounter.’” He turned back to me. “My treat. It’s not too strong. A toast to our fateful meeting.” The scent of cedarwood from his cologne mingled with the rich aroma of alcohol, making my head spin. His face was a perfect, roguish masterpiece, his thin lips a deep red, and his eyes… they looked at everyone like they were the only person in the world. He waited patiently for my answer. “No, thank you, George.” I shook my head gently and stood up. “I’ve had enough for one night. I don’t want to get drunk.” George raised an eyebrow, his fingertips catching the sleeve of my coat. “Then at least give me your number.” I turned my back to him, gently pulling my sleeve free. “Let’s leave the first impression to tonight. And wait for the fate that brings us a ‘Reunion.’” Behind me, I heard him curse softly again, followed by the sound of him downing his drink. But I didn’t look back. 4 I saw George again a few days later. “The Spire restaurant. Window table, top-tier view of the fountain show.” The message from my brother glowed on my screen. I checked the time—7:57 PM. George should be here any minute. Adrian had told me someone had spotted George with a new boy toy, and they were supposed to be having dinner here tonight. He urged me to make my move before someone else beat me to it. It was as if he was foolishly betting everything on me. Just then, a languid, magnetic figure appeared at the entrance. George had his arm around a slender young man, guiding him toward the main dining area. He was wearing a black silk shirt, the top buttons undone, accentuating his long, lean frame. He looked like he’d walked straight out of a magazine. The boy with him had brown hair and was clinging to his arm possessively. He was the innocent, clean-cut type, but he paled in comparison to George. “I picked this spot specifically,” George was saying, his tone nonchalant. “From here, you can see—” His voice trailed off. The boy asked, “See what, Mr. Chase?” I pretended to look up, my gaze locking with the fiery, amused eyes of the man with the red hair. George dropped his arm from the boy’s shoulders and strode over to my table, a slow grin spreading across his face. “Well, well. Look who it is.” “Here by yourself?” he asked me. “I…” Before I could finish, the boy hurried over, interrupting me. His eyes raked over me with suspicion before he turned back to George, his voice a whiny coo. “George, darling, the fountain show is about to start. Shouldn’t we go…?” George’s gaze lingered on the boy’s face for a few seconds before he suddenly grabbed his wrist. “You can go home,” he said, his eyebrow arched. “But we just got here—” “Do I need to repeat myself?” George’s voice was still light, but an unmistakable chill ran through it as he let go. The boy’s face fell. He smoothed his sleeve and stalked off, fuming. Too eager, I thought. Too obvious. Did he really think George was just some rich idiot? “Mind if I join you?” Without waiting for an answer, George pulled out the chair opposite me and sat down. 5 “Not at all,” I said quietly, lowering my gaze. “What a coincidence, Mr. Chase.” He smirked. “So you found out.” “It’s only natural to be curious about the owner of Nyx,” I said. “I just didn’t expect you to be the Chase…” My voice trailed off as a waiter respectfully placed several dishes on our table. George raised an eyebrow, about to stand. “Oh? Looks like I’m interrupting.” “George, stay,” I said, my voice warm, stopping him. I gave him a small, wry smile. “My friend had to cancel last minute. I ordered for two… I can’t possibly finish all this.” “Heh.” George looked down at me, a low chuckle escaping his lips as he settled back into his seat. “You do that on purpose?” “An unfortunate coincidence,” I said peacefully. His wine glass tapped against mine. “To fortunate reunions born from coincidence.” Coincidence was a sly and gentle liar. George asked me nonchalantly, “So, now that you know who I really am, how’s that first impression holding up? Shattered to pieces yet, good boy?” The red tips of his hair seemed to dance in the light. He looked wild and untamed, utterly unconcerned with my answer. I pushed a plate and a sauce dish closer to him. “A little,” I answered honestly. George looked up, his eyes fixed on me. “But first impressions tend to stick,” I said, meeting his gaze directly. “The same goes for you, doesn’t it?” The primacy effect. The first image you form of a person dominates your mind, coloring all future judgments. “…Hah.” George was the first to break eye contact, a soft laugh escaping him. The rest of the meal was slow and surprisingly comfortable. George would occasionally ask about my time abroad, and in turn, told me about his own travels. Listening to him speak, he sounded less like a reckless playboy and more like a worldly, sophisticated gentleman. He elegantly cut a small piece of foie gras and held it to my lips. “Try this.” It was an intimate, slightly transgressive act. A test. I hesitated for a second before leaning forward, my lips closing around the tines of the fork. The rich flavor melted on my tongue. “Good?” George’s eyes darkened, his smile turning wicked. “You seem a little tense.” I nodded, my fingers brushing against the back of his hand. Swoosh. He grabbed my wrist, his skin searing hot against mine. He looked down at me, his gaze intense. “You know my preferences, right? And I’m single at the moment.” I met his eyes and offered a soft, gentle smile. My voice was calm and steady. “George. Let go.” He raised an eyebrow, the smirk on his face deepening. After a silent moment, he released my wrist. “Fuck… are you training me like a dog?” I rubbed my wrist, shaking my head. “Not at all. I just want us to be equals, George.” “So, Ethan…” he asked, his voice low, “do you want to… be my boyfriend?” His eyes, full of charm and mischief, were locked on me. Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the fountain erupted in a brilliant display of light and water, a kaleidoscope of colors against the night sky. It was the perfect moment to accept a confession. It felt like if I just said yes, I could easily become the latest in George Chase’s long line of lovers. And then, in a month or two, he’d get bored and toss me aside. Adrian would get his project, and George would probably never hold it against me. But none of them had ever treated me like a person. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m not into men.” For the first time, a flicker of something—surprise, confusion, a loss of control—crossed George’s face. His fingers tapped against the table before his shoulders started to shake with silent laughter. “Ethan, just give me a chance, okay?” “I’ll make you like me.” “…” He slid his phone across the table. “Give me your number. So we can at least keep in touch.” The night was dark by the time I left the restaurant. George offered to drive me home, but I politely declined. As I walked along the river, the cool night wind brushed against my face. My phone buzzed. A text from an unknown number: 【Thanks for dinner tonight. My treat tomorrow. You free?】 【You look good in a turtleneck, by the way. Don’t overthink it. It’s just a compliment.】 6 George was true to his word. He began to “pursue” me. Over the next few weeks, his efforts were relentless, almost overwhelming. It was clear he had never tried to court someone with patience before. He’d never encountered a problem that money couldn’t solve. Bouquets of flowers delivered to my door daily, designer shoes, luxury items that cost more than my living expenses for years—they all arrived as if being delivered wholesale. He often invited me back to The Spire, the restaurant where we’d had our second encounter. Even though I never gave him a clear answer, he didn’t give up. It seemed the notorious playboy, the subject of endless gossip columns, had genuinely changed his ways for me. Adrian was pleased. He was delighted to see George completely focused on me, paying no attention to the upcoming project bid. But what about me? …I didn’t know what I felt. I didn’t know if this connection with George was a product of my own deceit or if it was something we both genuinely needed. “What are you thinking about?” A familiar voice, laced with a faint smile, came from behind me. I was standing at the entrance to the art museum, ticket in hand. I turned. George was wearing a dark gray turtleneck under a long black trench coat. He looked tall and striking, like a model from a fashion magazine. Unlike his usual styled look, his reddish-blond hair was unkempt, falling softly around his face. It softened his sharp edges, giving him a gentler look. “Nothing,” I said as he approached. “Just wondering if you’d be late.” “To see you? I’d be an hour early,” George said with a wink. “Come on, it’s not too crowded today. We can take our time.” I took a couple of steps, then turned back when I realized he wasn’t following. He was holding out his pale, elegant hand, a roguish grin on his face. “Humor me, will you? Let me hold your hand. Please?” 7 The inside of the museum was spacious, autumn sunlight streaming through the glass dome of the ceiling, casting a golden glow on the paintings. George seemed to know the place well, leading me confidently through the various galleries, occasionally leaning in to whisper the history of a piece in my ear. “Do you come here often, George?” I asked. His thumb drew slow circles in my palm. “My mother used to bring me here when I was a kid. She was a painter. This was her favorite place.” He paused, and for a fleeting moment, I saw a shadow of sadness in his eyes. “After she passed away, this became the only place where I could still feel close to her. She never picked up a paintbrush again after I was born. I was the reason she gave up her art.” The sudden confession left me stunned. I knew this was the perfect opening, the perfect way to get closer to him, to touch his heart. But I couldn’t bring myself to be so shameless, to turn this moment of genuine pain into another move in my deceptive game. “I’m sorry,” I said softly. George just shook his head, pulling me forward. “Come on. I want to show you my favorite painting.” The heat from his hand was a constant presence. For all his wild, reckless energy, his hands were soft and delicate, like warm silk against mine. He led me across the gallery to a massive oil painting. The canvas was a sea of profound darkness, but in the very center, a single, faint beam of light pierced through the clouds, illuminating a small patch of a lake below. The entire piece was filled with a strange, haunting mix of loneliness and hope. “Forget what I think,” George said with a smile. “Do you like it?” “I do.” “I like this kind of darkness,” I said. “It’s dark enough to offer an escape, a place to be free. But that single ray of light shows you there’s still a path forward, a reason for hope.” It was what I had always been searching for myself. “That’s ironic,” George said, his shoulders shaking with a quiet laugh. “This is my favorite painting, but I hate the dark.” “Something happened when I was young,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “Ever since then, the night has been nothing but darkness for me. No light at all.” “Let’s go, Ethan. There are better things to see up ahead.” 8 For the rest of the tour, George was clearly distracted. He no longer leaned in to whisper in my ear. He moved mechanically through the crowds, his responses to me brief and distant. In all the research Adrian had given me, in all my time with him, I had never seen this side of George. All the arrogance and confidence were gone, replaced by a raw, helpless vulnerability. Remember, he’s still a bad man, I told myself, repeating the words like a mantra. Outside, under the shade of an old oak tree, I helped him to a bench. “George, are you okay?” He looked up at me, forcing a cocky smile. “What, worried about me?” “Yes.” He was sitting, I was standing. For once, I was the one looking down. I could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes, a stark vulnerability he couldn’t hide from this angle. “Heh.” He let out a dry laugh and looked away. “What a mess… I’m completely screwed when it comes to you, aren’t I?” “Ethan, sometimes I really envy you.” “Envy me for what?” “Your purity,” George said, his gaze returning to mine, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “There’s this… this clean, untouched quality about you I can’t describe.” “I live in a world where no one tells the truth. Everyone who gets close to me wants something, and I always know what it is. They’d never say no to me, they’d do anything to cling to me… but even when they were pressed right up against me, they could never hear what I was really thinking.” “But you’re different, Ethan. You’re like that beam of light in the painting.” George’s eyes roamed my face. The evening breeze rustled his hair, making him look younger, more fragile than usual. The corners of his upturned eyes were tinged with red. “…” Fuck. What was so pure about me? How was I any different? A wave of frustration washed over me. I turned away, needing to escape his gaze. Swoosh. He grabbed my sleeve again. He looked up at me, his reddish-gold hair clinging to his damp cheeks, his usually arrogant eyes now filled with a broken, watery plea. “Will you kiss me? Please.” … I grabbed the collar of his shirt, tangled my fingers in his hair, and bit down hard on his lip. 9 The kiss was nothing like I had imagined. It was fierce, almost violent. I was practically holding him by the collar, my teeth breaking the skin of his lip. The metallic taste of blood filled my mouth, silencing everything that needed to be said. “Ngh…” George let out a muffled groan, stunned by my aggression. But after a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around my neck, closing his eyes and deepening the kiss. His long, pale neck arched back as he pressed his body against mine. But a surge of anger made me dig my fingers into his lean waist, hard. “Mmph…!” He flinched, a shiver running through him. I didn’t know what I was so angry about. Was it his weakness, the way he used his vulnerability to corner me? Or was it my own disgusting hypocrisy, pretending this was real? His eyes, already glistening with tears, grew hazy. Just as he tried to pull me closer, I pulled away. “Haah…” George gasped for air, his chest heaving. He looked up at me, his eyes wide. “Be with me, Ethan.” “I know I’ve been a bastard in the past, but I’m serious this time.” “Say whatever you want to me, do whatever you want. I love you.” I stood over him, saying nothing. Sensing my hesitation, George looked down, lighting a cigarette and holding it between his fingers, forcing a casual tone. “If you don’t believe me, forget it. Just… go home.” “I…” I opened my mouth, but my throat was painfully dry. “We’ll see how you act,” I finally said. “If you go back to being a useless playboy, then it’s over.” That wasn’t what I had planned to say. I was supposed to agree. George stared at me for a second, then broke into a low laugh. It was a deep, rumbling sound from his chest, filled with surprised delight. “Ethan,” he said, stepping closer, his fingers brushing against my earlobe. “Then you just watch me.” The glowing tip of his cigarette hovered near my chest. George’s eyes darkened, a smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll make it impossible for you to say no.”

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In my last life, my husband forced me into a sham divorce to welcome his childhood sweetheart back into the country. He needed to maintain his single image for her. When I refused, he had me committed to a private sanatorium, claiming I was suffering from a deep depression. All because he had made a pact with her years ago: they would wait for each other until they were thirty. I was tortured to death in that corrupt hospital. The last thing I ever expected was for his childhood sweetheart to be the one to find my emaciated corpse, cradling my bones and sobbing apologies over and over again. When I opened my eyes, I was back on the day my husband tried to have me committed. 1. “Wait! I’ll agree to the divorce!” The words burst out of me the moment the shock of rebirth subsided. My husband, Alan, was in a frantic rush to get me to the hospital. He didn’t say a word, his eyes fixed on the road as if he hadn’t heard me. A cold dread settled in my stomach. I raised my voice, the words catching in my throat. “Alan, the divorce. We can do it. Just… please, not the hospital.” Only then did he lower his gaze, deigning to give me a look. “Too late for that now.” His voice was as gentle as it had always been, but the words plunged me into an abyss colder than any I had known before. Colder than the beatings, the shock therapy, the slow, agonizing descent into madness in my past life. I froze, struggling to find my voice, my words turning into a desperate plea. “Alan, I swear I’ll never go near her. I won’t let your… your friend… know we were ever married.” His eyes flashed with anger. “Married? What marriage?” he spat, the words like venom. “Get this through your head. You were a housekeeper I employed for three years. Nothing more. Yesterday, you were fired for making a mistake and thrown out of the Thorne estate.” A housekeeper? A bitter laugh escaped my lips. What kind of housekeeper has her boss drive through a storm in the middle of the night just to buy her a cheap bowl of noodles from a street vendor? What kind of housekeeper does a man defy his entire family to marry? “Do you really think Mia Vance will believe that?” I refused to believe he could be so heartless as to watch me die again. But the memories of my previous life were burned into my soul. I could not, under any circumstances, let him take me back to that place. My question seemed to give him pause. He fell silent. I pressed my advantage. “I can help you.” That clearly wasn’t what he was expecting. A flicker of surprise crossed his face before it was replaced by a look of cynical understanding. “Don’t try to play games with me, Clara.” His tone was glacial, a world away from the warmth and affection he used to shower me with. I sniffled, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over. My hands twisted the simple band on my finger. The ring. He’d bought it for me with the very first bonus he earned after starting his own company, after breaking away from his family’s fortune. He’d held me so tight that day, promising to make me the happiest woman in the world. Now, he was sending me to a living hell for another woman without a second thought. Love was a treacherous, incomprehensible thing. But if I didn’t understand love, I at least understood Alan Thorne. “Alan, Mia isn’t stupid. As long as we’re legally married, she’ll find out eventually, no matter where you hide me. The only real solution is a divorce. And after we divorce, I can stay in the house, pretend to be the housekeeper, and help you sell the lie. What do you say?” His head snapped up, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “You’d really pretend to be a housekeeper?” I met his suspicious gaze and nodded firmly, twice. He didn’t believe me. The car continued on its grim path toward the sanatorium. Just as despair began to consume me, Alan, who had been silent with his eyes closed, spoke. “Turn around. Go to City Hall.” A wave of relief washed over me. I wiped the cold sweat from my brow and quickly pledged my loyalty. “Don’t worry. I’ll be the perfect housekeeper. I won’t let anything slip.” A faint smile touched his lips. He took my hand, his grip surprisingly gentle. “I’ll be taking this back for now,” he said, sliding the ring from my finger. “I’ll give it back to you after Mia leaves.” After three years, it was gone. A pale band of skin was all that remained. In that moment, I couldn’t remember why I had ever fought so hard to stay with this man, why I had been so unwilling to let him go. 2. As soon as the divorce papers were signed, he was in a hurry to get to the airport to pick up his precious Mia. He had the driver drop me on the side of the road. The post-holiday traffic was a nightmare. I couldn’t get a cab. It took me two hours to walk back to the villa, nestled high in the hills overlooking the city. I had barely sat down, my hand reaching for a glass of water, when Mrs. Gable, the cook, rushed over and snatched the glass away. “Good heavens, Clara, what are you doing lollygagging here?” she clucked, her face a mask of frantic energy. “Mr. Thorne gave explicit instructions. You’re to move all your things from the master bedroom to the storage room today. And Miss Vance’s luggage, which was just delivered, needs to be taken to the guest room with the best sunlight.” She then led me down three flights of stairs to a storage room in the sub-basement. In the three years I had lived in this magnificent villa, I never knew such a dark, cramped, and damp space existed within its walls. “Here. I packed up everything you left in the master bedroom.” Mrs. Gable stood in the doorway, blocking the only source of light, and tossed a heavy canvas bag at my feet. CRACK. The sound of something shattering echoed in the small room. A sickening premonition shot through me. Ignoring the sharp edges, I reached into the bag and carefully pulled out the fragmented remains of a small, porcelain figurine. It was the last thing my mother had left me. A strange numbness spread through me. My hand was bleeding freely from a deep cut, but I couldn’t feel a thing. Mrs. Gable saw the raw hatred in my eyes and took a step back, stammering, “It was Mr. Thorne. He told me to do it.” I forced myself to breathe, to calm the storm raging inside me. “Mrs. Gable,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “When you were caught skimming from the household accounts, I was the one who begged him not to fire you. When your grandson was sick and you needed money for his treatment, I was the one who gave it to you.” Her eyes darted away, unable to meet my gaze. When Alan came home that evening and heard what had happened, he flew into a rage. He fired Mrs. Gable on the spot. For a fleeting moment, my heart, which had turned to stone, felt a flicker of warmth. Maybe, I thought, despite everything, the bond we once shared wasn’t completely gone. In the next second, he shattered that naive fantasy. “Clara. Mia is coming over for dinner tomorrow.” “Remember your place. If you screw this up, you know what will happen.” I nodded numbly. He continued, his voice casual. “Oh, and by the way, Mia loves Sichuan food. Cook a couple of dishes tonight. I want to taste them, see if you can get the flavor right for her.” The chili paste stung the open wound on my hand, making it split open again. The water in the sink slowly turned pink. Alan saw it and frowned in annoyance. “Be careful. Don’t get blood on the food. I had those peppers flown in specially from Sichuan.” He had proposed to me in a kitchen just like this one. He’d sworn he would never let me cook, never let me lift a finger. He’d sworn he would protect me from any and all harm. I couldn’t hold it back any longer. A tear fell, then another, creating ripples in the soapy water. Alan closed his eyes and sighed. “Alright, that’s enough. Stop the waterworks. I don’t need Mia showing up tomorrow and thinking I’m some kind of monster for a boss.” I obediently dried my tears and, with hands now pale and puffy from the cold water, returned to my dungeon. Before I slept, I clutched the broken pieces of my mother’s figurine to my chest. “Mom, I can do this,” I whispered into the darkness. “Once Mia Vance leaves, I can finally escape this devil.” 3. The next morning, I was woken by a sharp slap across the face. “Clara, what have you done behind my back?” My head swam, the room spinning. I couldn’t even make out his words, just a dull roar in my ears. I mumbled a denial, not even knowing what I was denying. Alan took my confusion for defiance. His anger flared, and he struck me again. “Still playing dumb? If you didn’t say anything, then why is Mia asking people about you? Why is she asking about your marital status?” I wanted to argue, but I had nothing to say. How was I supposed to know what Mia Vance was thinking? She had been a mystery in my past life, too. Showing up at the sanatorium out of nowhere, apologizing to my corpse, and then spending a fortune to expose the hospital’s horrific practices. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t say anything,” I gasped, his hand now tight around my throat, cutting off my air. “You’ve had me locked in this villa since the day you heard she was coming back. You took my phone. How could I have done anything?” He seemed to consider this. The pressure on my throat slowly eased. I collapsed onto the bed, gulping in air like a drowning dog. “Then why is she asking about you?” Alan muttered, adjusting his glasses as he paced the room. “Unless… you’ve crossed her somewhere before.” “Impossible. I’ve never even met her. How could I have offended her?” I said quickly, my body still trembling, terrified of provoking him further. He let out a cold, humorless laugh. “To be safe, you’ll stay in here today.” Panic seized me. I scrambled off the bed, grabbing at his sleeve. “Alan, no! Please. I have claustrophobia. I… I’ll die if I’m locked in here all day.” He was unmoved, convinced I was faking. He yanked his arm free and locked the door from the outside. “You’re really getting addicted to playing the victim, aren’t you?” As his footsteps faded, I closed my eyes in despair. He was right. The old me, the me before my first death, didn’t have this sickness. It was a parting gift from the sanatorium. I curled into a corner of the room. My breathing grew ragged, my head light. “Let me out! Let me out!” I screamed until my lips were cracked and dry. My fingernails left long, bloody scratches on the heavy wooden door, but no one came. I couldn’t get out. But from upstairs, I could hear the faint clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter. I could hear Alan’s deep, booming laugh. I could hear Mia’s clear, bright voice joining his. No. I would not die like this again. Not quietly. Not in the dark. With a final, desperate resolve, I pulled out the lighter I had once given him as a gift, the one he had tossed back at me like trash. I lit the corner of the bedsheet. The fire caught quickly, greedily. Within minutes, thick, black smoke was pouring out from under the door. Just before I lost consciousness, I saw a delicate, fiery figure kick the door down.

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On Valentine’s Day, my husband—not one for sentiment—did his usual: ordered custom roses for every employee at his company. The Cole Group was trending again, praised as the city’s most romantic corporation. Then a post from Adrian’s young assistant appeared: a photo of her company bouquet with parted petals revealing a sapphire ring inside—the same unique piece I was outbid on at auction for $750k. Scrolling further, I found more posts: boba with a $5,200 transfer captioned “first boba of autumn,” ice cream with a “30-day tropical getaway” voucher. Comments gushed about how amazing the company was. I knew Adrian bought treats for the office—but since when did they include cash and vacations? Her latest photo showed a man across from her, cropped except for his dark blue tie—the same one I’d picked for Adrian that morning. I paused and called him: “Working late tonight?” 1. After he confirmed, I drove straight to the company building. I rarely checked up on Adrian. I hardly ever came to his office. We’d been married for seven years. I’d been with him since he started from nothing, building his empire until he became a titan of the business world. Everyone knew I was the center of his universe. But for the past six months, his behavior had mirrored every single red flag I’d seen on those cheesy online relationship blogs. It was enough to plant a seed of doubt. Pushing down a wave of anxiety, I unlocked the main office doors. The moment I flipped on the lights, I was greeted by the sight of Adrian on one knee, holding a bouquet, his eyes filled with a deep, adoring warmth. “My love, I’ve been waiting for you.” “How did you…” Before I could finish, he rose smoothly and pulled me into his arms, resting his chin affectionately on my shoulder. “If my wife checking up on me means I get a surprise visit, I’d wish you’d do it every night. Then I could see you every day.” He leaned in close. “I love you. Happy Valentine’s Day.” Looking into his earnest eyes, I felt my heart flutter. The suspicion that had been gnawing at me began to fade. He dropped his work for the night, and we drove home together. Later, after he’d tucked me into bed, Adrian took his laptop to the living room to finish up some work. I had just closed my eyes when my phone, which I’d left on his nightstand, began vibrating nonstop. I picked it up. A string of messages from an avatar of a cute cartoon animal. No name saved, but the chat was pinned to the top of his message list. 【Mr. Cole, leaving me all alone at the restaurant on Valentine’s Day? How ungentlemanly! As punishment, you have to have dinner with me every night for the next week!】 【Hmph. By the way, how did my little script for winning over your wife work out? You big blockhead. If only you had half my brains~】 It was Adrian’s phone. He never set a passcode. I recognized the avatar. It belonged to Chloe Su, an intern at his company. For a moment, my blood ran cold. The air left my lungs. It hit me then. Adrian was never the type to say such sweet, romantic things. They say a man who’s cheating suddenly becomes overly affectionate at home, trying to wash away the guilt with loving words. The thought surfaced in my mind, and I felt a wave of nausea as I scrolled up, my fingers trembling. 【Mr. Cole, was my boba the only one with brown sugar? Thank you, my cramps are all gone now~】 【OMG how did you know I love strawberry ice cream?! You stocked a whole fridge with it for me! You’re literally the ice cream fairy, I worship you!!】 I scrolled back six months. Every single day was filled with Chloe’s bubbly chatter, sharing her favorite songs, foods, and thoughts. And Adrian, though his replies were cool and brief, responded to every single one. The last chat I’d had with him was on our anniversary. His only message was to tell me he was working late. The chat log with her seemed endless. My heart felt like it was plummeting into a bottomless abyss. Suddenly, a new message popped up. It was a voice note from Chloe, her tone sweet and docile, with a slight, choked sob. “Mr. Cole… I didn’t want you to leave. If I were just a little more selfish, would you have stayed with me tonight?… Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. Everyone else is so happy. Everyone but me.” This time, Adrian’s reply was almost instantaneous, synced from his laptop to the phone in my hand: 【Send me your location.】 At the same moment, I heard the sharp snap of a laptop closing in the living room. Adrian pushed the bedroom door open, his movements rushed. “Clara, something urgent came up at the office. I have to go. Oh, and I’ll be working late all next week, so don’t wait up for me for dinner.” He grabbed his phone and jacket, turning to leave. “Adrian,” I called out, my voice shaking slightly. “Can you… not go tonight?” He cut me off, his tone impatient. “Come on, don’t be childish. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done. Be good.” Throughout our marriage, Adrian had always put me first. He could always sense the slightest shift in my mood. If he had just looked, really looked, he would have seen the moonlight glinting off the tears welling in my eyes. But he never gave me a second glance. Outside, a storm began to brew, the rumble of thunder echoing in the distance. I sat in silence for a long time before opening a family group chat that had been dormant for years. I typed a single message: 【I want to come home.】 2. The message sent my relatives into a frenzy of concern. My aunt, always the sharpest, sensed something was wrong immediately. 【Clara, sweetie, is that bastard hurting you? Tell your aunt, and I’ll make him pay!】 I hesitated for a moment before typing back. 【Aunt Diana, I need you to run a background check on someone for me.】 The information came back quickly. “Her name is Chloe Winston. She was a scholarship student Adrian sponsored while she was at a university in Northwood. After graduating, she started as an intern at The Cole Group.” “The whole industry is buzzing about it. They say she’s Adrian’s little pet project. No one dares to push a drink on her at business dinners. Any company that gives her a hard time finds itself facing bankruptcy.” My aunt was seething on the other end of the line, but I remained silent. A year ago, Adrian had started taking monthly business trips to Northwood, regular as clockwork. Each time he returned, he’d bring me little trinkets, things a much younger woman would like. I thought my stoic husband was finally learning to be romantic. Now I see it differently. The signs of his affair were there all along. I was just too busy trusting him to see them. A dull ache throbbed in my chest. I needed to know what kind of person had captivated him so completely. When I arrived at the office, he was in a meeting. I pushed open the door to his private office and found a young woman sitting in his chair, humming to herself as she decorated his workspace. She was… ordinary. Hair pulled back in a high ponytail. If there was anything captivating about her, it was the vibrant, youthful energy she radiated. His expensive, minimalist leather chair and polished desk were covered in pink heart-shaped stickers. Fluffy plush toys were everywhere. Tucked among them was a handwritten card with playful lettering: 【No slacking off! I’m watching you~】 Adrian was a man of strict boundaries, almost obsessively so. I’d once seen him fire an employee on the spot for touching something on his desk without permission. Yet these stickers were already yellowing and peeling at the edges. They had clearly been there for a long time. My expression darkened. Chloe saw me and shot to her feet, a flash of panic in her eyes. “Everyone else out there is working,” I said, my voice cold and clear. “Who gave you permission to play office decorator on company time? Does this company pay you to do nothing?” By now, a small crowd of curious employees had gathered by the door. Chloe’s eyes immediately welled with tears. “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Cole. I’ll fix it right away…” Her voice cracked. Just then, Adrian appeared, drawn by the commotion. He stepped between us, blocking my view of her. “She’s just a kid, Clara. She doesn’t know any better. It’s not worth getting upset over.” Then he turned to Chloe, his tone sharp. “What are you still standing here for? Can’t you see you’ve upset Mrs. Cole?” At his words, a tear finally broke free and streamed down Chloe’s cheek. She turned and ran from the room. Adrian’s expression didn’t change. He reached out to stroke my hair, his voice soft and placating. “Don’t worry about it, my love. She’s just a bit playful. I’ll have a word with her.” I stepped back, avoiding his touch. “Adrian,” I said, enunciating each word, deliberately challenging him. “Negligence of duty is grounds for termination, according to company policy.” His face stiffened, his eyes growing cold. “She’s just an intern, trying to make it on her own in this city. You want to fire her over something this trivial? That’s against policy.” “An intern who was promoted three times in three months to become the CEO’s executive assistant? Is that policy? What do you think our employees who have been here for five years think of that?” I retorted with a bitter laugh. “I am the General Manager of this company. I have the authority to fire any employee who breaks the rules.” “Clara Kinnear,” Adrian suddenly barked, his voice dangerously low. “Have you had enough!?” The force of it stunned me into silence. He rarely used my full name. In seven years of marriage, this was the first time. And he did it for another woman.

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