As the Greyhound bus neared the station, my high school class president, Ben, suddenly called. “Maya! Tonight’s the ten-year high school reunion. We’re at that Tex-Mex place right across from the old campus. Mr. Miller is already here too.” I smiled and agreed to come. After hanging up, the elderly man sitting next to me on the bus casually asked, “Hey kid, where’d you graduate from?” Without thinking, I answered, “Lincoln High. Class of 2016.” Suddenly, several older passengers in the surrounding seats snapped their heads around to stare at me. “Class of 2016? Lincoln High burned to the ground in a massive fire in 2016. Every single teacher died. That school has been boarded up for a decade.” I assumed they were just misremembering and couldn’t help but argue back: “That’s impossible. I was a senior in 2016. There was never any fire at our school.” The old man next to me suddenly stood up, his face pale. “That senior class only had two homerooms. The lead teacher was Mr. Miller. Is that right?” Mr. Miller was my homeroom teacher! Before I could even process what was happening, tears began streaming down the old man’s face. “He was my son. He burned to death ten years ago!” The moment those words left his mouth, my phone rang again. It was Ben. I could hear the loud, raucous laughter of a party in the background. “How far away are you? Mr. Miller was just asking about you again. You were always his favorite student!” 1 “Alright, hurry up! See you soon!” Before I could ask him to clarify anything, Ben cheerfully hung up the phone. Listening to the dead dial tone, I felt a bizarre mix of confusion and amusement. I tried to call him back, but the automated voice kicked in: “The number you have dialed is temporarily unavailable.” Probably just spotty cell service in this rural county, I thought, slipping my phone back into my pocket. The old man next to me was still glaring at me with an intense, scrutinizing gaze. His wife gently patted his back to calm him down. “Miss… you… you must be remembering wrong. After all, it’s been so many years…” The other older passengers in the bus chimed in, echoing her sentiment. “Yeah, everyone in a fifty-mile radius knows about the Lincoln High fire.” “It was a complete tragedy. All those poor kids and teachers…” I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice as calm and steady as possible. “Sir, I promise you, I’m not misremembering. David Miller, Mr. Miller, was my homeroom teacher. During my senior year, he had just gotten married, and his wife even came to our classroom to hand out wedding favors.” “The call I just took was from my high school class president. He literally just told me that Mr. Miller is at our reunion right now, waiting for me to get there.” Hearing this, the man claiming to be Mr. Miller’s father completely lost control. He lunged forward, his gnarled finger pointing inches from my face. “You little brat! Are you still talking?! Are you still running your mouth?!” “What reunion?! What Mr. Miller waiting for you?! My son is dead!” He was shaking violently, his voice cracking into a devastated, guttural roar. “Thanksgiving week, 2016! The school caught fire! My boy… he was trapped inside!” “It was me! I was the one who had to go to the morgue and identify his charred body!” The old man’s legs gave out. He collapsed back into his seat, sobbing uncontrollably. The atmosphere in the bus instantly plunged to absolute zero. “Young lady, you are completely out of line!” “Seriously! Joking about something like this? Do you have no conscience?” “Ripping open a grieving father’s wounds and pouring salt on them! You’re sick!” In an instant, the glaring, judgmental stares of everyone on the bus pierced into me like daggers. I was completely defenseless against the mob. I felt an intense, suffocating mix of panic and frustration. I am telling the absolute truth. How is this being twisted into a malicious joke?! I stood up, stepped into the aisle, and looked down at the old man with absolute, desperate sincerity. “Sir, please, try to calm down. I understand why you’re upset, but please believe me. I am not lying, and I would never, ever joke about your son’s life.” “If you don’t believe me, come with me.” I looked him dead in the eye, extending a genuine invitation. “My class president said the reunion is at the Tex-Mex place right across from the school. If we leave now, we’ll be there in twenty minutes.” “Come with me. Once you see Mr. Miller with your own eyes, once you see him standing there alive and breathing, you’ll know I’m not playing a sick joke on you.” 2 “You’re still trying to scam me!” Mr. Miller’s father suddenly erupted, raising his hand to slap me across the face. A younger guy in the row behind us quickly reached out and grabbed his arm. “Whoa, pops, take it easy. Use your words, no need to get physical.” The old man’s wrist was pinned, but he was still trembling with rage, spitting curses at me under his breath. Right at that moment, the Greyhound bus slowly pulled into the rural county transit center. The second the pneumatic doors hissed open, I bolted off the bus like I was running for my life. The group of older passengers got off right behind me. I braced myself, fully expecting them to keep harassing me. But then, something incredibly bizarre happened. The moment their feet hit the pavement, the burning rage and intense emotion completely vanished from their faces. Even Mr. Miller’s father just casually glanced at me over his shoulder, his tone completely flat and unremarkable. “It’s getting late, miss. You should head home.” With that, they all dispersed, seamlessly blending into the bustling crowd outside the station. I stood frozen on the sidewalk, my brain completely short-circuiting. What the hell just happened? Why did their entire demeanor do a complete 180 the second they stepped off the bus? I doubted myself for a fraction of a second, but quickly rationalized it. They’re probably just old and suffering from dementia. They probably realized they had the wrong guy and were too embarrassed to apologize. Satisfied with that logic, I flagged down a passing taxi. “Driver, Lincoln High, please.” “You got it!” The driver answered cheerfully, throwing the car into drive. I sat in the back seat and casually asked: “Hey, let me ask you something. Did Lincoln High… ever have a massive fire about ten years ago?” The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror and chuckled. “A fire? Nah! You’re crazy, kid. Lincoln High is perfectly fine. It’s been the top-ranked public school in the county for years. Never had a fire.” Hearing those words, the massive knot of anxiety in my chest completely dissolved. I knew it! Those old people on the bus were just completely delusional! The taxi soon pulled up in front of “El Camino Grill,” right across the street from the high school. I pushed the doors open. The private back room was packed with people, loud and chaotic. “Maya! You finally made it! You’re late, you owe us a round of shots!” Ben, the class president, spotted me immediately and started hyping up the room. I walked over laughing, my eyes scanning the crowd. I quickly spotted a deeply familiar silhouette. Mr. Miller was wearing a crisp button-down shirt and his signature wire-rimmed glasses. He was laughing and chatting with a group of my old classmates. He looked a little heavier than he did in high school, but he looked fantastic. Seeing me, he waved me over. “Maya’s here! Come sit down!” In that single moment, all the lingering anxiety and frustration from the bus ride completely evaporated. During dinner, I told the table about the bizarre encounter on the bus as if it were a hilarious comedy sketch. “…and this old guy claimed he was Mr. Miller’s dad, and he swore up and down that Mr. Miller burned to death in a fire ten years ago!” The entire table burst into roaring laughter. “Maya, have you been watching too many sci-fi movies? Your imagination is wild.” “It was definitely a scammer! They were probably trying to extort money from you!” Mr. Miller chuckled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “My dad telling people I’m dead? That is a very dark joke.” The dinner was a massive, drunken success. All the strange clouds of doubt from the bus ride vanished into the laughter and the margaritas. After we paid the bill, someone suggested we walk across the street and visit the old campus. Mr. Miller smiled and led us through the front gates of Lincoln High. The campus at night was peaceful and nostalgic. We walked through the quad, passed the basketball courts where we used to sweat through gym class, and finally stopped right outside the door of Room 204—our old senior homeroom. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. As the night wound down, Ben suggested we make a new group chat to stay in touch. I specifically walked over to Mr. Miller. “Mr. Miller, let me get your number. Next time I’m back in town visiting my parents, I’ll take you out to lunch.” “Sure thing.” Mr. Miller smiled warmly, pulling out his phone. We exchanged numbers, and I saved his contact info. The reunion ended perfectly. We all hugged goodbye, and I went home completely satisfied. I spent the entire long weekend at my parents’ house, soaking up the rare, peaceful downtime. Three days later, I hauled a massive duffel bag stuffed with my mom’s homemade jerky, baked goods, and local snacks back to the bus station for the ride back to the city. The bus slowly pulled out of the terminal. I put my headphones on, ready to sleep through the ride. But when I looked up, the smile completely froze on my face. Sitting in the row directly in front of me were several deeply familiar silhouettes. It was the exact same group of elderly people from three days ago—the ones who swore the school had burned down. And right now, they were all slowly turning their heads in unison, locking their eyes onto me with a chilling, venomous glare. 3 I was too exhausted to deal with their psychotic delusions again, so I just ignored them and stared out the window. The bus cruised smoothly down the highway. Suddenly, the old man who claimed to be Mr. Miller’s father stood up and slowly walked down the aisle toward me. He stopped right next to my seat, looking down at me with an intense, interrogating stare. “I wanted to ask you this the other day. What family do you belong to? I’ve lived in this county my entire life, and I have never seen your face before.” I frowned, deeply annoyed, but gave him my name anyway. “My last name is Quinn. Maya Quinn.” The moment those words left my mouth, an old woman sitting across the aisle shot up from her seat, pointing a shaking finger directly at my nose. “You malicious, evil little girl!” “You could have chosen to impersonate literally anyone else in the world, and you chose the Quinn family’s daughter?!” I stared at her, completely bewildered. “Impersonate who? I am Maya Quinn!” The old woman was trembling with absolute rage. “Liar! I live right next door to the Quinn family! They only had one child, a daughter named Maya, and she burned to death in that fire ten years ago!” “First you claim David Miller isn’t dead, and now you’re trying to impersonate a dead girl! What the hell is wrong with you?!” I was officially pushed past my breaking point. These people were absolutely, clinically insane! I violently stood up and yanked my phone out of my pocket. “I am so done arguing with you crazy people!” “I literally saw Mr. Miller three days ago at our high school reunion! He is alive and perfectly fine! I literally saved his phone number!” I opened my contacts and pulled up David Miller’s name. “I am calling him right now! I’m going to put it on speaker so you can hear his voice and realize how psychotic you sound!” I hit the call button and activated the speakerphone. Everyone on the bus held their breath. The phone rang. Beep… Beep… The call connected. I shot a triumphant, vindicated glare at the old people surrounding me. But the very next second, a sudden, jarring cell phone ringtone began blaring from right in front of me. The ringing was coming from the pocket of the old man claiming to be Mr. Miller’s father. He shakily reached into his pocket and pulled out an ancient, outdated flip phone. The screen was glowing brightly, displaying: [Incoming Call: Unknown Number] And the number displayed on his screen… was my exact cell phone number. How is this physically possible?! This was the exact number Mr. Miller had personally given me three days ago! I typed it into my phone myself! Why the hell was it ringing this crazy old man’s flip phone?! The second his phone rang, the bus erupted into absolute chaos. “Scammer! She’s a professional scammer! How else would she have David’s old phone number?!” “Impersonating dead kids to extort grieving parents! Scammers these days are pure, unadulterated evil!” “Driver! Lock the doors and drive this bus directly to the police precinct! We are handing her over to the cops!” The group of elderly passengers aggressively swarmed me, physically blocking me into my seat. My brain was a chaotic, swirling mess of static. I was completely incapable of processing what was happening. I literally just saw Mr. Miller. Why did his phone number dial his ‘father’?! I looked at the number on my screen, and then at the ringing flip phone in the old man’s trembling hand. A horrifying, profoundly absurd thought crept into my mind. Could it be… were the last three days… fake? Was the reunion a hallucination? Was the Mr. Miller I saw not real? I violently shook my head, desperately trying to physically throw the insane thoughts out of my brain. “I’m not a scammer! You have to listen to me!” But no one was listening. Yielding to the screaming demands of the passengers, the bus driver actually engaged his turn signal, took the next exit, and headed straight for the county police precinct. 4 Inside the interrogation room at the precinct, I sat at a metal table, feeling like a convicted felon. The elderly passengers were all talking over each other, aggressively accusing me of horrific crimes. “Officer, it’s her! She’s a professional con artist!” “She started out claiming my dead son was alive, and now she’s pretending to be a dead girl! She has to be part of an organized extortion ring!” Listening to their accusations, I felt an exhausting, paralyzing sense of helplessness. A young police officer frowned, listening to their frantic stories before finally turning to me. “Name. Date of Birth. Social Security Number.” I recited my information mechanically. The officer typed my details into his computer. After a few seconds, he looked up at me, his expression twisting into something deeply bizarre. “Your permanent address is in this county? Is your father’s name Richard Quinn?” “Yes! Officer, call my dad right now! He can verify my identity!” The officer nodded slowly. He pulled up the registered phone number for Richard Quinn and dialed it from his desk phone. The phone rang a few times and was picked up. “Hello? Is this Richard Quinn? This is the county police department…” The voice coming through the speakerphone was deeply, undeniably familiar. It was my dad! I eagerly leaned forward, shouting toward the phone on the desk: “Dad! It’s me! It’s Maya!” The line went dead silent for several agonizing seconds. Then, my dad’s voice came through the speaker, laced with profound confusion. “Officer… is this some kind of prank?” “My daughter… my daughter Maya died ten years ago in the fire at Lincoln High.” My brain instantly flatlined. White noise. Dad… what is he talking about? Why is he saying I’m dead? “No! That’s impossible!” I shook my head violently, practically lunging across the table toward the phone. “Dad! Listen to my voice! It’s me, Maya! I’m not dead! I was literally just at the house with you for Thanksgiving! You packed my bag this morning!” A heavy, suffocating sigh echoed through the speaker. “Miss, I don’t know who you are, or what kind of sick game you’re playing. But please, I am begging you. Leave my family alone.” Click. He hung up. The police officer’s face turned incredibly severe. He furiously typed a few commands into his keyboard. Ten minutes later, he grabbed his monitor and turned the screen around to face me. “Ms. Quinn. Look at this.” Displayed on the screen was an archived news article from ten years ago. The headline was a gut punch: [MASSIVE BLAZE AT LINCOLN HIGH. THANKSGIVING CELEBRATION TURNS TRAGIC. NO SURVIVORS REPORTED.] Below the article was a long, meticulously formatted list of the casualties. Amidst the dense block of text, I clearly saw the names… David Miller. Maya Quinn. 5 My blood turned to ice. The officer let out a heavy sigh and clicked on an incoming video call on his computer. “We just contacted the patrol units assigned to that district. We asked them to drive by the school and show us a live feed.” The video call connected. The camera feed was shaky and unstable. What appeared on the screen wasn’t the pristine, beautiful, academic campus I remembered from three days ago. It was a desolate, apocalyptic wasteland of charred ruins. Crumbling brick walls. Scorched foundations. The entire perimeter was sealed off by heavy chain-link fencing topped with barbed wire. A rusted metal sign hung on the gate: [DANGER: CONDEMNED PROPERTY. NO TRESPASSING.] I stared at the screen, tears violently flooding my eyes. How is this happening? A few days ago, I was literally walking across that quad with my classmates. We took a group photo in front of Room 204. For the past three days, I had been sleeping in my childhood bed. My parents cooked me dinner, did my laundry, and literally packed my duffel bag full of snacks this morning. Why? Why did the school suddenly turn into a burned-out husk? Why was everyone dead? And why the hell was I considered a dead person? Who am I right now? Just as my sanity was about to completely fracture, just as I felt the entire reality of the universe collapsing around me… my eyes darted to the massive duffel bag sitting on the floor next to me. The bag stuffed with homemade food my parents had given me this morning. In a single, blinding flash of clarity, the panic evaporated. I violently threw my head up and grabbed the young police officer’s arm across the desk. “Officer! You have to take me back to my hometown! Right now!” “If you drive me back there, I can prove to you exactly what is happening!” My voice was shaking with pure, unadulterated adrenaline. The older, veteran detective standing in the corner frowned, waving me off with profound annoyance. “Kid, stop wasting our time. The evidence is conclusive. You’re facing serious fraud charges…” “Let her go.” The young officer suddenly spoke up, completely cutting his superior off. He looked down at me. On his young, slightly inexperienced face, I saw an incredibly complex, unreadable expression. “Start the car,” he said to another patrolman. “We’re driving to Lincoln.” He looked at me through the rearview mirror as I was placed in the back seat. His voice was incredibly low. “You better be able to prove whatever insane theory you’re holding onto.” I nodded heavily, my heart hammering violently against my ribs. I didn’t know if my theory was right. But the duffel bag of food sitting next to me had just transformed from a snack into absolute, undeniable physical evidence. My brain was running at a million miles an hour, desperately trying to assemble the shattered, impossible puzzle pieces. Two entirely different versions of “Me.” One alive, one dead. Two entirely different versions of Lincoln High. One filled with students, one reduced to ash. Two entirely different versions of my father. One who packed my bags this morning, and one who confirmed my death to a police officer. They were like two parallel timelines that were never supposed to intersect. But because of my physical existence, they had somehow, grotesquely bled into each other. Under my frantic directions, the police cruiser pulled up directly in front of the main gates of Lincoln High. Towering oak trees. Pristine red-brick academic buildings. Students running across the manicured lawns playing frisbee. Everything was exactly as I remembered it. Peaceful, vibrant, and alive. It was as if the catastrophic fire that supposedly burned this place to the ground was nothing more than a nightmare from a parallel dimension. I shoved the door open and stepped out, taking a deep breath of the crisp, familiar air. “Look. This is my school.” I turned around and looked at the police officers sitting in the cruiser. They were completely, utterly paralyzed by shock.

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Nate Brooks took the emergency blood supply I had been stockpiling for seven years and authorized its use for his childhood friend’s daughter. His colleagues tried desperately to talk him out of it: “But what about Clara?” “She has a complex chimeric blood type. Carrying a pregnancy is extremely high-risk for her. If she hemorrhages without backup blood, it’s an absolute death sentence.” Nate was silent for a long time before replying softly. “Lily is Elena’s daughter. She’s just a little girl. She needs this blood more than Clara does right now.” One of the doctors couldn’t bear it. “But Clara is already five months pregnant! You know better than anyone the risks of operating without a blood reserve. If something goes wrong, you’ll lose both the mother and the child!” Nate didn’t hesitate. “Then we’ll just put off having a baby for now. Clara has always listened to me.” I looked down at the ultrasound report in my hands, a sudden wave of dizzying numbness washing over me. Years ago, Nate was the one terrified of me getting hurt, begging me to bank my blood every few months just in case. Now, for the sake of Elena Foster’s daughter, he was the same man privately authorizing the depletion of my only lifeline. The words ‘Viable Twin Gestation’ printed on the ultrasound felt like a silent, cruel joke. I turned around, walked up to the reception desk, and scheduled a medical termination. I would give Nate exactly what he wanted. No baby. And no me, either. …… When I was booking the termination, the nurse’s tone was incredibly grave. “Are you absolutely certain you want to proceed?” “With your rare blood type and chronic anemia, performing a second-trimester termination carries significant risks. Does… does Dr. Brooks know about this?” I nodded, saying only, “Yes. I’m certain.” It didn’t matter if Nate knew or not. From the exact moment he gave away the blood I had spent seven years banking, a guillotine had been suspended over my neck. Right before the anesthesiologist administered the IV, my phone rang. It was Nate. “Clara, one of the techs said they saw you in the maternity ward. Are you here to grab lunch with me?” Through the speaker, I could hear the hospital PA system in the background, mixed with the sound of a woman gently coaxing a child. Before I could answer, he continued, “I can’t meet you for lunch today. Lily’s vitals aren’t great, and Elena is trying to calm her down. I need to stay here and monitor her.” I sat in the empty pre-op waiting area, staring at the surgical risk consent form in my lap. I asked him, “Why exactly are her vitals dropping?” “What?” He clearly hadn’t expected me to ask that. My voice was dead calm. “I said, Nate, after draining seven years’ worth of my life-saving blood… what right does she have to be doing poorly?” The line went completely dead. A long time passed. I heard footsteps walking away, and then Nate’s hushed, guarded voice. “You know?” He took a deep breath. “Clara, Lily is like you. She has a dual-population blood chimerism. Right now, your blood is the only viable match we could find. She’s just a kid. I couldn’t just let her die.” “Is that so?” He must have caught the icy detachment in my tone, because his voice dropped lower. “Don’t overcomplicate this. Even if she wasn’t Elena’s kid, I still would have saved her.” He sounded so incredibly righteous, as if he had completely forgotten that the blood he gave away was drawn, vial by agonizing vial, from my own veins over seven years. I asked him, “So what am I supposed to do?” Nate was silent for two seconds, sounding exhausted. “Clara, you are perfectly healthy right now.” “And?” “And so… just stop making a scene, okay?” Making a scene? I repeated the word softly under my breath. I reminded him, “Nate, I paid the storage fees for that blood. It was deposited in the hospital’s blood bank for safekeeping, it wasn’t a public donation. Without my explicit consent, absolutely no one had the legal right to touch it.” Nate’s voice suddenly spiked in volume. “Well, the blood has already been transfused! We can’t exactly suck it back out of her! What do you want to do, report me to the medical board?!” After a brief, tense silence, he rubbed his temples. Chapter 2 “Clara, I don’t have the energy to fight with you right now. Let’s talk about this properly when I get home tonight, okay?” When I didn’t reply, he sighed and added: “Your anemia usually flares up in your second trimester. Make sure you take your iron supplements when you get home.” Nate knew I always struggled with severe anemia during pregnancy. He knew that for the past seven years, I had to endure regular, exhausting blood draws just to build up a 200ml reserve. He knew exactly how impossibly rare my chimeric blood type was, and how difficult it was to cross-match. He knew everything. And he still gave away my lifeline. Without even asking if I consented. I didn’t say another word. I just hung up the phone. Right as the anesthesia was about to be pushed, a notification popped up on my Instagram feed. It was a new post from Elena. In the photo, she and Nate were gathered around a little girl in a hospital bed, a birthday cake sitting on the tray table in front of them. The caption read: [After three full-body transfusions, my Lily finally has a second chance at life. Thank you to our amazing Dr. Brooks. I’m so blessed to have you.] The comments were flooded with congratulations from mutual friends. Nate had replied to her post: “Wishing our sweet Lily a lifetime of health and happiness.” I placed a hand over my slightly rounded stomach. A bitter, metallic taste flooded my mouth. When I finally came out of surgery, my blood loss was significantly higher than average. They kept me under strict observation in the recovery bay until late evening before finally clearing me to go home. Severe anemia combined with massive post-operative hemorrhaging meant that by the time I reached my front door, I was on the verge of collapsing. I leaned heavily against the doorframe. I was just about to call out to Nate when a delicate, flirtatious voice drifted from inside. “Dr. Brooks, when is dinner going to be ready?” The words died in my throat. It took me a moment to gather enough strength to push the door open. Inside, Elena was lounging on my sofa, wearing my house slippers. When she saw me, her relaxed demeanor vanished, and she quickly stood up. “Clara, please don’t misunderstand! When Lily woke up today, she wouldn’t stop crying. She was terrified of the hospital, and Nate couldn’t bear to see her like that, so he brought us here. Don’t worry, we won’t touch any of your things.” Nate walked out of the kitchen, carrying two plates of steaming food. “Why are you home so late?” His eyes swept over me, completely failing to notice how ghastly pale I looked. I didn’t answer. I just forced myself to keep walking toward the master bedroom. Elena hurriedly stepped forward to grab my arm. “Clara, I’ll pack up and take Lily to a hotel right now. Please, whatever you do, don’t fight with Nate. He performed two surgeries today and he’s been looking after Lily nonstop. He is exhausted.” She made a theatrical show of reaching for her suitcase. She barely took two steps before stumbling slightly. Nate immediately caught her arm. “It’s late. Where are you going to go?” Elena lowered her eyes, her voice barely a whisper. “I just don’t want to make Clara unhappy.” Nate looked at me, a flash of irritation in his eyes. “Clara, Lily is terrified of the hospital, but she still requires constant medical monitoring. Having her stay here allows me to keep an eye on her.” “Once she’s stable, Elena will take her back to their apartment.” “How long?” I asked, my voice hollow. I had zero expectations left. He thought for a second. “Probably two or three months.” Next month was supposed to be our wedding. Which meant, in his mind, even after we were officially married, I was expected to share half my home with this woman and her child. I let out a weak scoff, meeting his eyes. “Stealing the blood I saved for seven years wasn’t enough, you had to invite the thief to come live in my house.” “Nate, do you even know the meaning of the word respect?” Nate’s tone instantly turned to ice. “Clara, that was incredibly uncalled for.” “They’re just staying for a little while. Why do you have to be so aggressive and unforgiving?” Chapter 3 Aggressive and unforgiving. I looked away from him, my chest so tight I could barely breathe. Assuming my silence meant I had capitulated, Nate offered a final instruction. “Lily is going to come out of her room in a minute. Try to look a little friendlier. Don’t scare her.” I didn’t acknowledge him. I just walked into the bedroom and shut the door. From the hallway, I could hear Elena crying softly. “Nate, does Clara hate me?” “I know we shouldn’t be intruding, but raising Lily all by myself… I’m just so scared I won’t be able to handle it alone.” Nate’s voice dropped into a comforting, tender register. “She’s just stressed from the pregnancy. Don’t take it to heart.” I leaned against the back of the bedroom door, my fingernails digging into my palms. I didn’t leave the room for dinner. I collapsed onto the bed and fell into a heavy, feverish sleep. When I woke up, I was burning up. I walked out to the kitchen to find some Tylenol. Elena had just finished showering and was blow-drying her hair. She was wearing my brand-new silk nightgown. The one I had bought specifically for my honeymoon with Nate. Nate seemed to notice my gaze darken. He walked over, lowering his voice to explain. “That was the only clean nightgown left in the house, so I let Elena borrow it. Don’t overthink it.” I looked away, an overwhelming wave of bone-deep exhaustion crashing over me. It wasn’t until I opened the medicine cabinet that he finally realized something was wrong with me. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead, his brow furrowing. “You’re burning up.” He poured me a glass of warm water, made me take a fever reducer, then went to the kitchen to make soup. He brought out a cold compress and gently placed it on my forehead. “Shh, you’ll feel better once your temperature comes down.” He took care of me so naturally. He comforted me so seamlessly. As if none of the conflicts from earlier today even existed. As if our relationship didn’t have a single crack in it. But a weak voice from the hallway brutally shattered that illusion. “Daddy, what are you doing?” Daddy. What an incredibly ironic title. Nate’s hand, holding the cold compress, froze in mid-air. I followed his line of sight. Elena’s daughter was standing in the doorway of the nursery, clutching a plush bunny. I traced her silhouette back into the room, and my eyes suddenly stung with heat. Nate panicked. His tone was anxious, but he deliberately kept his voice low so Elena wouldn’t overhear. “Clara, it’s just a word. Lily grew up without a father. She feels close to me and craves a father figure, that’s why she calls me that. Don’t read into it.” Tears betrayed me, spilling over and landing on the back of my hand. I stared at him, my voice completely shot. “Why is she sleeping in the nursery?” “Nate, we have a perfectly good guest room. Why did you let her sleep in the nursery I spent months decorating by hand?” Nate didn’t answer immediately. He let go of me, rushing over to scoop up a pouting, whining Lily, softly coaxing her. Then, he turned to offer gentle reassurances to a teary-eyed Elena. I sat alone on the sofa, feeling like an unwanted intruder in my own home. Like the evil villain bullying a perfect, happy family of three. After he finished comforting them and closed the nursery door, blocking out the noise, Nate finally spoke to me. “Lily loved the fairytale decorations in there, so I let her have it.” “Clara, it’s just a room. She’s only going to be here for a few weeks. Why are you overreacting to everything?” The exhaustion in his voice had morphed into outright blame. I let out a hollow laugh. Why am I overreacting? Because I poured every ounce of my love and anticipation into decorating that room. Because everything in that room was meant for my babies. This house wasn’t even my home anymore, and he was asking me why. I reached into my bag and pulled out the post-op paperwork from the termination, placing it quietly on the coffee table. “Nate—” Before I could finish, Lily pushed the nursery door open and walked out. Chapter 4 She walked right up to Nate, tugged on his hand, and asked timidly. “Daddy, can I really live here?” “Of course you can.” “Mommy said this is going to be my new home, and that I get to be with you every single day from now on. Is that true too?” Elena stiffened. Nate instinctively glanced at me. I stared right back at him. Waiting to see exactly how he would answer. Two seconds passed. He avoided my eyes and affectionately ruffled the little girl’s hair. “Yes, this is Lily’s home now. Daddy is going to be with you every single day, and all the pretty toys in your room are going to keep you company too.” I stared at him blankly for a moment, then finally stood up. Just as I reached for the termination paperwork on the table, a hand clamped down on my wrist. Nate looked at me. “Clara, be mature.” Mature. When that word dropped, the very last shred of warmth in my chest died. I shook his hand off and walked into the master bedroom. I pulled my suitcase from the closet and started packing. Nate followed me in and shut the door. “Clara, stop acting out.” “Lily is just a kid. Her body is still weak. What Elena and I said out there—” I cut him off, finishing the sentence for him. “I know. You were just saying it to comfort her.” “If you know that, then why are you giving everyone attitude? Why are you picking a fight over a child?” The moment the words left his mouth, a deathly silence fell over the room. Nate realized he had crossed a line. He took a deep breath and reached out to hug me. “Be good. You’re pregnant and you have a fever, stop being stubborn. I promise I’ll be more mindful of your feelings from now on.” I dodged his embrace. His arms hung awkwardly in the air. A soft knock came from the bedroom door. Elena’s voice filtered through. “Nate? Lily says she wants you to tuck her in. Do you have a minute to spare?” Lily’s voice followed. “Daddy, I want a mommy and a daddy to sleep with me like the other kids have! Come sleep with me, please?” Nate frowned. After a few seconds, he dropped his arms. “Get some rest. I’ll be back as soon as she falls asleep.” Look. This was his version of being mindful of my feelings. As he reached the door, he suddenly remembered something. “What was that paper you were holding in the living room?” I gripped the termination paperwork, crumpling it in my fist, then let it go. I tore it into pieces right in front of him and dropped it into the trash can. “Nothing important.” Nate gave me one last look and walked out. My vision swam, and I sank weakly to the floor. At this point, even feeling disappointed felt like a waste of energy. I was halfway through packing when my fever spiked again, dragging me into a deep, unconscious haze. When I finally woke up, it was well past the time I usually left for work. I walked out to the kitchen, only to find Nate gently coaxing Lily to eat her breakfast. Seeing me, he got up to grab a bowl of oatmeal from the stove. “You were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t want to wake you.” Lily looked at me, slowly put down her spoon, and mumbled impatiently. “Daddy, I’m done eating. Hurry up and take me and Mommy to get our wedding pictures taken.” My heart felt like it had been pricked by a needle, but the pain wasn’t as sharp as it used to be. Nate froze. Elena jumped up in a panic, scrambling to explain. “Clara, I was reading Lily a bedtime story last night, and the book had a picture of the parents’ wedding. She thought Nate and I… Her body is still so fragile, we only pretended we were going to take photos so she wouldn’t get upset…” Lily burst into tears. “Why are we pretending?! Aren’t you and Daddy in love?! You told me last night you were going to stay together forever…” She cried inconsolably.

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After my abortion, I was scrolling online when I came across a trending thread: [What is the most satisfying thing you’ve ever done?] The top-voted comment read: [Last week, I swapped the genetic screening report of my childhood best friend’s wife. She was carrying a perfectly healthy baby boy. I deliberately faked the report to tell her the baby had Down syndrome. She actually believed it. I personally performed the abortion, and while I was in there, I removed her uterus. She’ll never be able to get pregnant again. She stole the man who had revolved around me since we were kids. I swallowed that anger for three years, and now I’ve finally paid her back. It feels so damn good!] I instinctively touched my empty, aching stomach. A reply underneath asked: Does her husband know? [Of course he knows. We work at the same hospital; he was right next to me when I swapped the reports. He’s the one who convinced his wife to abort it, all because I told him I didn’t want him to have a child with her.] My hands violently trembled as I clicked on the user’s profile. It was Chloe Thorne’s burner account. It was filled with daily, intimate snippets of her and my husband, Ethan. The sheer, suffocating betrayal caused my blood pressure to spike. I suffered a massive hemorrhage right then and there. When I opened my eyes again, I was back on the day of the scheduled abortion. Chloe was prepping the surgical tray next to me, her voice sickeningly sweet: “Maya, you’re making the right choice. A baby with Down syndrome will only bring you and Ethan a lifetime of pain!” I propped myself up on my elbows and looked dead at her: “I changed my mind. I’m keeping him.” … The entire preoperative room went dead silent. The surgical forceps in Chloe’s hand clattered onto the metal tray. Even behind her surgical mask, I could see her smile freeze. Her eyes darted quickly to Ethan, then back to me. “Maya, you need to calm down.” She took a half-step forward, her voice soft and gentle, like she was coaxing an irrational child: “A baby with Down syndrome is a lifelong burden. You’re still early in the second trimester, the risks are lowest now. We can’t delay this.” I stared at her gloved hands. Those were the exact hands that, in my past life, reached into my body, severed my baby’s umbilical cord, and permanently mutilated me. My stomach violently churned. I gripped the edge of the operating table so hard my fingernails nearly cracked. Ethan stepped forward. His brow was furrowed deeply. It wasn’t an act; he looked genuinely impatient. “Maya, stop throwing a tantrum.” He spoke with a heavy, suppressed annoyance, like a doctor scolding a non-compliant patient. “If we have a child with severe chromosomal defects, the baby will suffer its whole life, and we will be dragged down forever.” “Didn’t we already agree on this?” Agreed. I almost laughed out loud. Yes, it was agreed. He and Chloe had agreed on it. I glared at him, forcing every word through my teeth: “My baby. I am having him.” “I don’t care if he’s healthy or not. I am giving birth to my son!” My voice was ironclad. Ethan’s face darkened further. “This is not the time to be overly emotional. The diagnostic markers are right there. Science doesn’t lie.” “If you have him, are you just going to sit at home crying every day?” Chloe immediately chimed in, her voice even softer. “Maya, Ethan is doing this for your own good.” “Don’t blame him for being blunt. As doctors, we see these tragic cases all the time. If you wait, the procedure becomes much more dangerous.” “You’re still young. Later on…” Later on? My head snapped up to look at her. What did she write on that burner account? [I personally performed the abortion, and while I was in there, I removed her uterus. She’ll never be able to get pregnant again.] “Later on, what?” My voice sounded like it had been dragged across sandpaper. Chloe flinched under my glare and took a step back, her smile faltering. “Later on… you can always try for a healthy baby.” The anesthesiologist walked over, looking visibly annoyed, holding a syringe. “It’s time for the anesthesia. Are we doing this procedure or not?” Two assisting nurses murmured under their breath nearby. “Backing out right on the operating table.” “I’ve seen so many delusional mothers like this. Once the kid is born, their lives are over.” “Exactly. A Down syndrome baby destroys the whole family.” Every single word felt like a needle being driven into my eardrums. Surrounded by a sea of white coats, I felt like a hunted animal. Everyone in this room thought I was insane. But I was the only one who knew the truth: I was the most lucid person in the building. The baby in my womb was a perfectly healthy boy. And they were trying to trick me onto the surgical table to throw my child away like medical waste. The anesthesia needle moved closer. Chloe shot a quick look at the nurses, and two of them immediately stepped forward to hold down my shoulders. “Maya, don’t be nervous. Just go to sleep. You’ll wake up and it will all be over.” Her voice was still so gentle. Ethan turned his back to me and checked the clock on the wall. “Listen to Chloe. Let’s hurry this up, she has other surgeries scheduled today.” The blood in my veins boiled, rushing straight to my head. With a violent burst of adrenaline, I ripped my arm free and violently yanked the IV line out of the back of my hand. Drops of blood splattered across the sterile white sheets. “Don’t touch me!” I rolled off the surgical table, my knee slamming hard against the metal step stool. The pain was blinding, but I ignored it. “I am of sound mind, and I revoke my consent for this surgery!” “If anyone attempts to anesthetize me, I will press charges for medical battery and forced surgery!” I forced myself to stand, glaring daggers at Ethan. “Call your Chief of Medicine down here right now!” Everyone in the room froze. Ethan slowly turned around, his eyes as cold as a scalpel. “Maya, you are insisting on giving birth to a severely disabled child. Have you even considered what that will do to our family?” He enunciated every word, speaking as if he were reading a terminal diagnosis. “Have you considered his quality of life?” It felt like someone had crushed my lungs. It was so laughable. In my past life, right up until the moment I died, I never figured it out. Did Ethan genuinely believe that fake diagnostic report? Or did he personally push me onto the operating table just because Chloe said she didn’t want him to have a baby? Now, standing right in front of me, he was calm, restrained, and logical. So logical it made me want to vomit. Chloe immediately rushed over, crouching slightly in front of me, her tone urgent and sweet. “Maya, Ethan is only thinking of you.” “Think about it. How many judgmental stares will this child face?” “You can’t ruin his entire life just to satisfy your own obsession with becoming a mother.” She grew more animated, her eyes even welling with tears. “I work in Obstetrics. I’ve seen too many cases like this. Truly, families like that always fall apart in the end.” The nurses nodded in agreement. I gripped the edge of the surgical bed, forcing the words out one by one: “I said, I am having my baby.” “Even if the entire world tries to stop me, I am having him.” Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling sharply like he was dealing with an irrational lunatic. “You are too emotionally unstable right now. You are not fit to make any medical decisions.” He turned to the nurses. “Transfer her to a private observation room. Keep her there.” “We will discuss this when she has calmed down.” I shot up. “You’re holding me hostage?” Ethan looked down at me, a trace of exhaustion in his eyes. “This is for your protection. To protect you, and the baby.” Protect. I nearly ground my teeth to dust. It sounded so noble. In my past life, it was exactly like this. I was locked in a VIP suite in this very hospital. I screamed for help, but no one came. By the time I was wheeled into the operating room, I didn’t even have the strength left to fight. Two nurses grabbed my arms, one on each side. “Mrs. Sterling, please don’t make this difficult.” Chloe was still putting on a show: “Maya, just get some rest. Don’t stress your body out.” “When you’ve thought it through, we can talk.” The door clicked shut behind me. Then came the heavy sound of a deadbolt locking. I sat on the hospital bed, my entire body trembling. Less than half an hour later, rapid footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door flew open. Ethan’s mother stormed in in her designer heels, slamming her purse onto the table. “Maya! Have you lost your damn mind?!” Ethan’s father stood behind her, his face dark with fury. “Has the Sterling family ever mistreated you? You insist on bringing a retarded child into this world just to make us the laughingstock of the city!” Mrs. Sterling slammed her hand on the table, pointing a manicured finger at my face. “If you don’t abort that thing right now, don’t ever expect to step foot in our house again!” “Ethan is in his prime! Why should his life be dragged down by you and a defective baby?!” I looked up at her and slowly smiled. “I am the mother of this child.” “Whether he lives or dies is my decision.” Mrs. Sterling’s face twisted in rage. “You! You are completely unreasonable!” “Chloe is such a sweet girl, trying so hard to advise you, and you treat her like garbage!” “I think you’re deliberately trying to ruin the Sterling family!” Chloe appeared in the doorway, her eyes rimmed red. “Mrs. Sterling, please don’t upset yourself.” “Maya is just having a hard time processing the grief. We’ll try to talk to her again.” Outside the door, a few nurses were peeking in. “That’s the one insisting on keeping the Down syndrome baby.” “I don’t know what goes through their heads.” “She married into wealth and still acts like a psycho.” “Dr. Thorne is so sweet. I feel so bad she has to deal with a patient like that.” I sat on the bed, burning every single one of those words into my memory. They were all taking Chloe’s side. They were all deciding whether my child deserved to live or die. I closed my eyes, my brain spinning rapidly. I couldn’t expose the fake report right now. Chloe’s father was a major board member and investor in this hospital. This was her territory. Without hard evidence, exposing her now would only tip her off and give her time to destroy the paper trail. I had to wait. Wait for an airtight opportunity to nail her to the wall. But first, I needed to get out of here. I walked over to the window and looked down. Third floor. The baby in my belly gave a soft, tiny flutter. I instinctively placed a hand over my abdomen. My nose stung, and I nearly broke down in tears. I can’t cry. If I cry, I lose. My parents were living overseas. Right now, there was only one person who could get me out of here. I quickly dialed a number. It rang exactly once before it connected. The man on the other end was silent for half a second before his deep voice murmured: “Maya?” My throat tightened. I practically bit the words out: “I need to get out of this hospital.” “Come get me. Quietly.” After slipping out, I went straight to a high-end private clinic across town, using their VIP entrance to ensure anonymity. Blood draws. Ultrasounds. An amniocentesis. The specialist looked at the monitors and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Fetal development is perfectly healthy. All genetic markers are well within the normal range.” I clutched the printouts, my knuckles white. “Can you determine the gender?” The doctor smiled warmly. “It’s a boy. He looks perfectly healthy.” The clinic door clicked shut behind me. I slid down the wall and crouched on the floor, burying my face in my arms. My shoulders shook violently. In my past life, I personally signed the consent forms that ended his life. In this life, I finally held the truth in my hands. I took high-resolution photos of every page of the report. I hid the originals in the lining of my jacket, backed the photos up to my cloud drive, and emailed them to a secure address only I knew. Once I was done, I sent a text to Ethan. “I left the hospital. I’m going home.” When I walked through the front door, the entryway lights were on. Ethan was already waiting in the living room. He sat on the sofa, still wearing his white coat, holding a manila folder in his hands. Chloe stood right behind him. “Maya, you’re finally back,” Chloe rushed forward, her eyes red again. “Ethan and I looked everywhere for you all afternoon. We were terrified.” I sidestepped her and stared at Ethan. “Looking for me? Or making sure I didn’t escape?” Ethan looked up. His eyes were bloodshot, and he looked exhausted. “Where did you go?” I didn’t answer. He tossed the manila folder onto the coffee table. “The baby’s condition is much worse than the initial assessments indicated.” I froze. “The new genetic microarray results came back. The risk value for Neural Tube Defects is four points higher than the last screening.” He looked at me, his tone strictly clinical. “The longer you drag this out, the more severe the physical trauma will be to your body.” Chloe stood next to him, whispering: “Maya, this isn’t the time to be stubborn. The data doesn’t lie.” I bent down, picked up the folder, and pulled out the report. It was identical to the fake report they had shown me in my past life. I looked up at Chloe. “I want a retest.” Chloe’s eyes flickered, her smile turning stiff. “Maya, this test was processed by the top lab in the state. Doing it again is just putting yourself through unnecessary physical pain.” I glared at her icily: “It was processed at your hospital. I don’t trust it.” “I want to go to an independent testing facility of my choice.” Ethan frowned. “You don’t even trust our own hospital anymore?” “The person I don’t trust is her.” I pointed directly at Chloe. Chloe acted as if I had just stabbed her. The tears instantly flowed. “Maya, how could you say that about me?” “I have been running myself ragged trying to manage your care. I even personally coordinated the surgical schedule for you.” She sobbed, her shoulders trembling perfectly. “Ethan, does Maya have some kind of misunderstanding about me?” Ethan looked at me, his voice dropping into a harsh reprimand: “Chloe has been managing your prenatal care from day one. She knows these reports better than anyone.” “Demanding an outside facility is a direct insult to her professional integrity.” “Exactly,” I said. “I am insulting her entire professional existence.” Chloe cried even harder. Ultimately, under Ethan’s “coordination,” I was forced to take another test at a different clinic—one specifically recommended by Chloe. When the results came back, I stared at the paper, my heart sinking. It was compromised. The data was identical to the fake report. I gripped the paper, my hands shaking violently. Not out of fear. Out of pure, unadulterated hatred. She had even bribed the staff at the secondary clinic. Chloe stood next to me, sighing softly: “Maya, surely you have to believe it now.” Ethan took the report from her hands, glanced at it, and then looked at me. A fleeting look of sorrow crossed his eyes, but it vanished instantly. “I’ve already booked the OR time.” My head snapped up. “I am not doing it!” “Ethan, let me make this perfectly clear. I will die before I let you abort this baby!” He closed his eyes, sounding unimaginably drained: “Maya, you are sick.” “Ever since you backed out on the operating table, you’ve been sick.” “Your emotional instability has completely destroyed your ability to reason.” “I am your husband. I cannot stand by and watch you destroy your life.” I took a step back. “What are you going to do?” He didn’t look at me. He spoke toward the hallway: “Come in.” Two burly male orderlies in uniform walked in, flanking me on both sides. “Take my wife back to the hospital for bed rest,” Ethan ordered. I fought wildly. “Ethan! You’re insane! I want a divorce!” He turned his back to me, his voice sounding like it was coming from a mile away. “When you’ve calmed down, we will talk.” I was placed under house arrest in a VIP hospital suite. The door was deadbolted from the outside, and the window could only open a crack. I went on a hunger strike. On the first day, the nurses took the untouched food trays away. On the second day, Ethan came. He held a bowl of oatmeal, sat on the edge of my bed, blew on a spoonful, and brought it to my lips. “Eat.” I turned my head away. He gripped my jaw firmly, forced the spoon past my lips, and made me swallow. I choked and coughed violently, my tears soaking the hospital blanket. “Why are you so obsessed with killing him?” I glared at him with pure venom, my throat raw. “Tell me, Ethan! Why?!” He set the bowl down and gently wiped the oatmeal from the corner of my mouth with a tissue. “Because he has Down syndrome.” “No responsible father would bring a life into this world knowing it is destined to suffer.” I sobbed, my entire body shaking. “What gives you the right to say he isn’t healthy?! Do you know what this baby means to me?!” “My body was so weak. To get pregnant, I drank bitter herbal medicine for three years. I took over a hundred hormone injections!” “I almost died trying to have this baby!” Ethan’s fingers paused. I grabbed his wrist with a death grip, my fingernails digging into his skin. “Even if he wasn’t perfectly healthy, with the resources our families have, do you really think we couldn’t provide for him?” “Are we poor? Do we lack support? Ethan, what exactly are you so terrified of?!” He stared at me, his lips pressed into a thin, grim line. For a fraction of a second, something in his eyes waered. Something faint and fleeting. But right as he opened his mouth to speak, the hospital room door swung open. Chloe stood in the doorway, her white coat stained with fresh blood. “Ethan, there’s an emergency C-section in the ER. Massive maternal hemorrhage. The Chief of Surgery needs you in there immediately.” Ethan stood up instantly, shoving the bowl of oatmeal into my hands. “We will finish this conversation when I get back.” He walked out quickly, never looking back. Once the door closed, Chloe didn’t leave. She walked slowly into the room and locked the deadbolt behind her. “Maya, why do you put yourself through this?” I shrank back against the headboard, watching her like a hawk. She smiled, pulling a syringe from her pocket and popping off the cap. “What are you doing?!” “Don’t worry,” she said, pinning my arm down with terrifying strength. “This is just Pitocin. It’s going to induce labor and help put you out of your misery.” I thrashed violently, but her other hand pinned my legs down. “Chloe! Don’t you dare!” The moment the needle pierced my skin, I screamed. Shortly after, my abdomen began contracting violently. The pain was blinding. Chloe hit the call button and calmly told the nurses who rushed in: “The patient has gone into sudden early labor. Prep the OR.” I was lifted off the bed onto a gurney and rushed down the hall. When the blinding surgical lights turned on, I heard Chloe’s voice floating above me. “Prep for anesthesia.” I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. But my limbs felt like lead, and my tongue was thick and numb. I was awake. I was more lucid than I had ever been in my entire life. I lay there, helpless, watching Chloe step up as the lead surgeon. I watched the nurses scramble around, following her orders. No one thought anything was wrong. No one even looked at me. Chloe leaned down. Over her surgical mask, her eyes curved into a sweet, crescent smile. She brought her lips right to my ear and whispered in a voice only I could hear: “The baby inside you isn’t a Down syndrome baby at all.” My pupils dilated in absolute horror. “I swapped the reports.” “I wanted to personally cut your baby out of you, and then casually remove your uterus so you can never, ever have a child again.” Her words were like red-hot iron spikes being driven directly into my brain. “Ethan agreed to it. He asked me to personally perform your surgery.” “Do you want to know why?” She gently patted my pale cheek. “Because I’m pregnant with his child.” My brain exploded in a deafening roar of static. She picked up the scalpel with her sterile gloved hand, tilting her head at me. “Just go to sleep, Maya.” The cold, gleaming steel of the blade slowly moved toward my abdomen. I couldn’t move a single muscle. Silent tears poured relentlessly from the corners of my eyes. Right at that exact second, the heavy doors of the operating room were violently kicked open from the outside. “STOP!” The man who kicked the door open was Liam Carter. He stood in the doorway, wearing a sharp black suit, his face carved from ice. Behind him stood agents from the State Medical Board, officers from the Department of Health, and over a dozen private security contractors. Every single one of them was wearing a body camera. Chloe’s scalpel hovered just inches above my stomach. “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped, taking a step back but keeping the knife in her hand. “This is a sterile operating room! Who let you in here?!”

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During the first week of the semester, I ordered a male companion service to hang out in our dorm, only to be caught red-handed by the Student Body President, Liam Vance. He swept a cold gaze over my trembling roommates, Chloe and Serena, and slammed a disciplinary expulsion slip onto my desk. “Give me the name of the ringleader, and she’ll be the only one I expel.” Just as I extended my finger, a glowing translucent comment—like a live-stream chat overlay—floated across my vision. [The female lead is so malicious! Why is she making her roommate take the fall?!] [What’s she so afraid of? Chloe is basically owned by the campus bad boy, Nate. If the female lead points at her, Nate will bully her into dropping out by tomorrow!] My fingertip shifted slightly, pointing instead toward Chloe. More chat comments started drifting past my eyes. [Picking Chloe is even worse. She’s the childhood sweetheart of the female lead’s own brother, Arthur!] [Even though Arthur is her biological brother, he’s always doted on Chloe, his little neighbor, way more than her.] [If Chloe gets expelled, Arthur will storm the campus and personally throw his sister’s belongings into the dumpster!] I frowned, deep in thought, when another comment caught my eye. [Honestly, Liam never intended to report this. He’s just jealous and wants to test the female lead’s true feelings.] [As long as she chooses to take the fall and get expelled herself rather than implicate the others, Liam will instantly soften. He might even confess his feelings to her right then and there.] Seeing that, I lowered my hand and looked Liam dead in the eye. “No need to pick. I’ll drop out myself.” That night, a massive fire—caused by an illegal electrical appliance—tore through our dorm building. When the paramedics brought me out, my bed was nothing but a charred, unrecognizable corpse. Rumor had it that the three untouchable golden boys of Princeton University broke down and cried like children in front of the ashes. But by then, I was already sitting in a first-class cabin flying down South. To find the man who actually mattered. … “Give me the name of the ringleader, and she’ll be the only one I expel.” Liam’s icy voice echoed through the dorm room. He aggressively slammed the disciplinary slip, stamped with the red seal of the Student Council, onto my desk. A suffocating, deathly silence filled the room. The two male models who had just been taking their shirts off were standing frozen by the wall, visibly shaking. Chloe and Serena were huddled in the corner, crying. Liam’s gaze bypassed them entirely, locking onto my face with overwhelming, oppressive intensity. He was wearing a crisp white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his sharp wrists. “Mia, my patience is running thin.” He tapped his long fingers rhythmically against the desktop. “Don’t think pulling this kind of absurd stunt is going to get my attention.” I looked at his arrogant, self-satisfied face and found it incredibly comical. The reality was, Chloe had secretly hired the male companions to celebrate Serena’s birthday. I had just been lying in my bed with my noise-canceling headphones on, reading a book. I hadn’t even gotten a good look at the guys’ faces. Yet, the moment Liam kicked the dorm door open, he immediately pinned the blame entirely on me. “Speak.” Liam leaned in closer, looming over me. “Point her out, and I’ll protect you.” I lowered my eyes, just about to point at Chloe, who was on the top bunk. Suddenly, a glowing line of text floated across my vision. [The female lead is so malicious! Why is she making her roommate take the fall?!] [What’s she so afraid of? Chloe is basically owned by the campus bad boy, Nate. If the female lead points at her, Nate will bully her into dropping out by tomorrow!] My finger froze mid-air. Nate? The unhinged psycho who put a guy from the neighboring frat in the ICU just because Chloe casually complained about him? I smoothly adjusted my trajectory, slowly pointing toward Serena, who was crying the loudest. The floating text started scrolling wildly again. [Picking Serena is even worse. She’s the childhood sweetheart of the female lead’s own brother, Arthur!] [Even though Arthur is her biological brother, he’s always doted on Serena, his little neighbor, way more than her.] [If Serena gets expelled, Arthur will storm the campus and personally throw his sister’s belongings into the dumpster!] I furrowed my brow, my finger hovering in the air. So, no matter who I pointed at, I was doomed. These two roommates—one was the bad boy’s obsession, the other was my own brother’s golden girl. And me? I was just the malicious supporting character destined for ruin? As I pondered this, another line of text drifted by. [Honestly, Liam never intended to report this. He’s just jealous and wants to test the female lead’s true feelings.] [As long as she chooses to take the fall and get expelled herself rather than implicate the others, Liam will instantly soften. He might even confess his feelings to her right then and there.] Test my true feelings? I raised my eyes and looked at Liam. Hidden deep in his eyes was a faint, barely perceptible glimmer of expectation. “No need to pick.” I lowered my hand, my voice perfectly flat and devoid of emotion. “I’ll drop out myself.” The fingers Liam had been using to tap the desk suddenly stopped dead. “What did you just say?” “I said, write my name on the expulsion slip.” I pulled open my drawer, took out my student ID, and slid it across the desk toward him. “I’m dropping out. You can go report back to the administration now.” Chloe and Serena looked up in sheer shock. Liam stared intensely at the student ID. “Mia, do you have any idea what you’re saying?” He leaned in aggressively, planting both hands on the edge of the desk, lowering his voice to a dangerous whisper. “Do you think throwing a tantrum like this is going to make me go soft on you?” “You’re overthinking it.” I met his gaze head-on. “I just think playing these stupid, juvenile mind games with you is a massive waste of my time.” BANG— The dorm room door was violently kicked open from the outside. Arthur stormed in. He didn’t even glance at me; he walked straight to the corner where Serena was huddled. “Serena, are you okay?” He stripped off his jacket and wrapped it tightly around Serena’s trembling shoulders. Serena leaned into his chest and sobbed. “Artie, Mia… she… she was going to take the fall for me…” Arthur whipped his head around. “Mia, what kind of sick game are you playing now?” He marched over to me, looking down with sheer contempt. “It’s bad enough you’re a degenerate, but now you’re trying to drag Serena down with you?” “When exactly did I try to drag her down?” I stared at the man who shared my DNA, my biological brother. “My name is going on the expulsion slip. I am the one dropping out. Are you deaf, or just stupid?” “You still have the nerve to talk back?!” Arthur’s face turned livid. He raised his hand, ready to strike me. “Arthur.” Liam’s voice cut through the room like ice. “This is Student Council business. It’s none of your concern.” Arthur let out a cold scoff and lowered his hand. “Liam, you’d better just expel her. Get her off this campus before she corrupts Serena anymore.” Right then, the sound of slow, heavy footsteps echoed from the hallway. Nate strolled in. His gaze swept the room, finally landing on Chloe. “Chloe, come here.” Chloe practically sprinted over and hid behind him. Nate turned a menacing glare toward me. “Mia. I heard you were trying to make my girl take the fall for your mess?” He snapped the cigarette he was holding in half. “Do you have a death wish?” The three most untouchable, elite golden boys of Princeton University were currently crammed into my tiny dorm room. One was threatening me with expulsion to force me to submit. One wanted to crush his own biological sister into the dirt to protect his childhood crush. And one was issuing a literal death threat to protect his obsession. The translucent text was flashing frantically across my vision. [Oh my god, the tension! The female lead is totally dead!] [Serves her right. She’s always so arrogant. Now she knows she can’t mess with these three.] I looked at the three faces looming over me and suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. “I’ll sign the slip.” I picked up a pen and signed my name cleanly on the bottom of the disciplinary form. “Now, can you all take your girls and get the hell out of my room?” “Mia, don’t regret this.” Liam stared at the signed slip, grinding his teeth. Arthur guided Serena toward the door. As he passed me, he dropped a final, icy warning. “Since you’re so tough and independent, I’m cutting off your allowance this month. Figure it out yourself.” Nate wrapped his arm tightly around Chloe’s waist, letting out a mocking sneer. “Stop acting so high and mighty.” The heavy dorm door slammed shut. I calmly pulled my suitcase out from under my bed. The text overlays were still drifting past my eyes. [The female lead is putting on a brave face, but she’s probably panicking internally.] [Arthur cut off her money, and Liam has a hold on her academic records. What else can she do but beg?] [Give it three days. She’ll be on her knees begging Serena for forgiveness.] Beg? Beg for forgiveness? They really thought way too highly of themselves. The next morning, I dragged my suitcase to the Registrar’s Office. The administrator processing withdrawal requests pulled up my file, her face twisting into an awkward grimace. “Ms. Vance, your withdrawal application has been placed on an administrative hold by the Student Council.” “President Liam explicitly instructed that your academic file requires his personal signature before it can be released.” I turned around, walked out of the Registrar’s Office, and headed straight for the Student Council suites. I pushed the door open. Liam was sitting behind a massive mahogany desk, reviewing documents. When he saw me walk in, a smug, expected smile played on his lips. “So, you finally figured it out?” “As long as you admit you were wrong right now, and formally apologize to Serena and Chloe, I can pretend I never saw that disciplinary slip.” I walked up and planted both hands firmly on his desk. “Liam, do you honestly believe the entire universe revolves around you?” The smile on his face vanished instantly. “Mia, watch your tone.” “What’s wrong with my tone?” I stared directly into his eyes. “I signed the disciplinary slip. I submitted my withdrawal application. What right do you have to freeze my academic file?” Liam stood up aggressively, matching my eye level. “Because I am the Student Body President!” “Because without me, you won’t be able to take a single step on this campus!” His eyes were filled with the arrogant condescension of someone offering charity. “Mia, stop throwing this tantrum. I know you’re just jealous because I’ve been spending more time with Serena lately.” “If you just behave and listen to me, I’ll take you as my date to the alumni gala next week.” Listening to his delusional, self-important monologue, my stomach actually churned. “Liam, if you’re sick in the head, go see a doctor.” I stood up straight, glaring at him coldly. “I don’t need your charity. Keep the file if you want it so badly. I’m done with this garbage school anyway.” With that, I turned on my heel and walked out. “Mia!” Liam roared from behind me. “If you walk out that door today, even if you get on your knees and beg me later, I will never look at you again!” I didn’t even break my stride. When I got back to the dorm, Serena was sitting in my chair, drinking water out of my favorite mug. When she saw me, she panicked, her hand shaking so badly she spilled water all over my desk. Arthur was crouching on the floor, wiping a smudge off her designer sneakers. Seeing her reaction, he instantly jumped up and shoved her behind him protectively. “Mia, are you psychotic?! You scared Serena!” I walked over, grabbed the mug, and swept it, along with my electric kettle, straight into the trash can. “She touched my things. They’re contaminated.” Serena tugged nervously on Arthur’s sleeve. “Artie, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to use Mia’s mug, I was just so thirsty…” “Why are you apologizing?!” Arthur whipped around, glaring at me furiously. “Mia, you ungrateful bitch! Serena drinking from your cup is a compliment!” “Apologize to her right now!” I laughed, a sharp, bitter sound. “Arthur, is your brain completely rotted?” “She used my personal belongings without asking, and you want me to apologize to her?” “You—!” Arthur was so enraged he raised his hand to strike me. I didn’t flinch. I just stared at him with eyes as cold as ice. “Do it. Hit me. The second that slap lands, whatever is left of our relationship as brother and sister is permanently dead.” Arthur looked into my dead, emotionless eyes, and a sudden, inexplicable wave of panic washed over him. But the soft, pathetic sound of Serena sobbing quickly pulled him back to his toxic reality. “Then it’s dead!” Arthur hissed through gritted teeth. “I refuse to claim a sister as vicious as you! From today onward, the Vance family will not give you a single red cent!” “Fine by me.” I grabbed the handle of my already packed suitcase. “Now move. Good dogs don’t block the road.” I shoved past Arthur. He stared at my back in absolute disbelief. “You think you’re so tough! I dare you to never come crawling back to the Vance family!” As I reached the bottom of the dorm stairwell, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn’t called in a very long time. After hanging up, I dragged my suitcase toward the campus gates. Before I even made it out of the residential quad, Nate and a few of his frat brothers blocked my path. “Well, well, looks like someone’s actually packing up to leave.” Chloe clung to his arm, speaking in a sickeningly sweet, fake voice. “Nate, don’t be mean. Mia’s probably just acting out because she’s angry.” “Angry? She had the nerve to try and use you as a scapegoat. She needs to learn there are consequences.” Nate stepped up to me, tapping his heavy metal Zippo lighter aggressively against the handle of my suitcase. “Mia, I warned you not to mess with Chloe.” “Now you’re getting kicked out of Princeton like a stray dog. It’s exactly what you deserve.” I looked at him, completely deadpan. “Are you done? If you’re done, get out of my way.” Nate’s face darkened instantly. He violently kicked my suitcase. The suitcase tipped over, bursting open, spilling several of my textbooks onto the pavement. “How the fuck are you talking to me?” He grabbed me by the collar of my shirt, his voice a menacing growl. “Do you want me to make sure you never walk off this campus?” The translucent text was flashing wildly across my vision again. [Nate is so hot! The ultimate protective boyfriend!] [The female lead finally hit a brick wall. That’s what she gets for messing with the bad boy.] [Beat her up! Teach her a lesson!] I looked at Nate’s furious face and suddenly burst out laughing. “Nate, is bullying people smaller than you the only thing you’re actually good at?” “You really think Chloe is some innocent angel? The male models in our room last night? She paid for them using your credit card.” Chloe’s face went deathly pale in a fraction of a second, and she started screaming. “You’re lying! Nate, don’t listen to her, she’s just trying to turn you against me!” Nate hesitated for a moment, then his anger flared even hotter. “Mia, you’re about to be expelled and you’re still trying to slander Chloe?!” He raised his fist, ready to punch me. “Stop!” Liam strode over, violently shoving Nate away and stepping in front of me. “Nate, you’re trying to start a physical altercation on campus? Do you think I don’t exist?” Nate let out a dark, mocking laugh. “Liam, cut the ‘white knight’ act. If you hadn’t frozen her academic file, she would have been long gone by now.” Liam turned to look at me, his brow furrowed in deep frustration. “Mia, have you thrown a big enough tantrum yet? Come back with me.” I looked at him, finding the entire situation incredibly absurd. “Liam, I don’t want the file anymore.” I bent down, righted my suitcase, and dusted off the cover of my books. “From this exact moment forward, I have absolutely no connection to Princeton, and I have absolutely no connection to you.” I walked around them, heading straight for the main gates. By early evening, I had checked into a hotel near the airport, waiting for my red-eye flight. My phone was constantly buzzing with notifications. Arthur: [Your cards are frozen. It’s not too late to admit you were wrong and apologize.] Liam: [Your file is in my desk drawer. Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, I expect to see you in my office.] I permanently blocked both of their numbers. I was just getting ready to leave for the airport when my phone rang. It was an unknown number. “Mia, you left your ruby necklace in the dorm. Do you still want it?” It was Chloe’s voice. That necklace was a family heirloom left to me by my grandmother. In my rush to pack, I actually had forgotten it. “Leave it on my desk. I’ll send an Uber courier to pick it up.” “Oh, I can’t do that,” Chloe laughed lightly over the phone. “What if it gets lost? I can’t afford to replace it. You need to come get it yourself, or I’m just going to throw it in the trash.” I checked the time. I had enough of a buffer to make a quick trip back to campus. When I pushed open the door to my dorm room, it was completely empty. The ruby necklace was sitting right in the middle of my desk. I walked over, picked it up, and was just about to turn around when the heavy door slammed shut behind me with a loud BANG, the deadbolt clicking locked from the outside. Almost instantly, the overpowering, harsh smell of gasoline seeped through the gap under the door. I threw myself against the door, pounding on it with both hands. “Open the door! Who’s out there?!” From the hallway, I heard Chloe and Serena’s hushed, malicious giggling. “Mia, you can stay in there and reflect on what you did.” “Whenever you figure out how to be a decent person, we’ll let you out.” I was shaking with rage. “Are you two insane?! This is a felony!” “Felony? We’re just playing a little prank on you.” Serena’s voice was dripping with venom. “That’s what you get for constantly bullying me and trying to steal Arthur’s attention.” Just then, a wave of blistering heat rushed under the door gap. Flames instantly ignited the pool of gasoline that had seeped inside, the fire spreading across the floor with terrifying speed. “FIRE! HELP!” I kicked the door frantically, but it was jammed tight. The giggling outside immediately morphed into horrified, panicked screaming. “Why is there a fire?! Run!” The flames grew massive, engulfing the room. I covered my mouth and nose, retreating to the small balcony, desperately looking for an escape route. Below, I could hear police sirens wailing and the chaotic shouting of students. I leaned over the railing and saw Liam, Arthur, and Nate sprinting toward the building like madmen. Arthur was the first to reach the fourth-floor hallway. He violently kicked open the already charred, warped door of our dorm room. “Serena! Serena, where are you?!” I was standing on the balcony, choking so hard on the thick black smoke I couldn’t make a sound. I could only wave my arms frantically. Arthur saw me. He froze for a single, agonizing second. Then, he turned and sprinted toward the adjacent dorm room. Because Serena was in there, crying hysterically. “Mia, just hold on a second! I have to get Serena first, she’s terrified of pain!” Arthur scooped Serena up and bolted down the hall. Nate was right behind him. He didn’t even glance in my direction. He ran straight to Chloe, who was slumped on the floor in the hallway, paralyzed with fear, and carried her away. Liam was standing on the lawn below, holding a massive megaphone, yelling up at my balcony. “Mia! Stop playing the victim! Walk down here yourself right now, and I’ll forgive you!” I looked down at the man screaming at me. I thought about Arthur and Nate’s retreating backs as they abandoned me to burn. The very last shred of warmth I held in my heart for them was completely, utterly incinerated by the flames. The translucent text was flashing rapidly through the thick smoke. [Run, female lead! The male leads are literally trying to get you killed!] [This ‘groveling’ arc is going to be brutal!] The fire was eventually extinguished by the fire department. The entire dorm building was charred black, the air thick with the acrid, suffocating stench of burnt plastic and wood. Liam stood behind the yellow police tape, his face deathly pale. Arthur, having safely secured Serena in an ambulance, rushed back to the scene, looking frantic. “Where is Mia? Did she come down yet?” He grabbed a firefighter who had just walked out of the building, his voice shaking violently. The firefighter shook his head, his eyes heavy with sorrow. “We found a charred body in Room 402. There are no signs of life.” Liam violently shoved past the police barricade, sprinting toward the building like a lunatic. “Impossible! How could she be dead?!” “Mia! Get out here right now! Stop playing these sick games!” Arthur’s legs gave out, and he collapsed onto his knees in the ash and rubble. “Mia… my little sister…” “I told her to just hold on… I was going back for her…” He covered his face, letting out a primal, despairing howl. Nate stood nearby, looking as if he had been struck by lightning. The paramedics wheeled out a stretcher carrying a body burned so severely it was completely unrecognizable. Dangling from one of the blackened, charred wrists was a half-melted ruby necklace. Liam reached out with a trembling hand, trying to touch the necklace. “Mia… I’m so sorry… I was wrong…” The text overlay was scrolling at warp speed. [AHHHHH! The groveling arc has finally arrived!] [Liam is crying so hard, but honestly, it’s so satisfying!] [Arthur, what’s the point of crying now? You literally handed your sister over to the grim reaper!] [Nate must be losing his mind too, he’s been protecting Chloe, and she’s a literal murderer!] The police launched a full investigation immediately. The cause of the fire was determined to be gasoline poured outside the dorm room, and the door had been deadbolted from the outside. Security camera footage clearly showed Chloe and Serena in the hallway. Arthur watched the security footage: Serena pouring a canister of gasoline outside Room 402, and then locking the door. He turned slowly to look at Serena, who was cowering in the corner of the police station. “Serena… tell me this isn’t real…” Serena threw herself at Arthur, clinging to his legs. “Artie, I didn’t mean to! I just wanted to scare her, I didn’t know it was going to catch fire!” Smack! Arthur slapped Serena across the face with everything he had. His eyes were bloodshot red, like an enraged, wounded animal. “You killed her! You murdered my biological sister!” Nate also turned to look at Chloe, his eyes filled with disbelief and absolute disgust. “Chloe, you actually committed murder?” Chloe shook her head frantically, crying as she tried to grab Nate’s hand. “Nate, save me… I don’t want to go to prison…” Nate violently shoved her away, stumbling backward in revulsion. “Get the fuck away from me!” The three golden boys had completely, utterly broken down in front of the ruins. But meanwhile, I was already sitting comfortably in a first-class cabin, flying down South. When the fire broke out, I managed to climb over the balcony divider into the adjacent, empty dorm room. I tied the ruby necklace around the wrist of a medical cadaver that Serena had stolen from the anatomy lab earlier that week to play a prank on me, creating the perfect illusion that I was still trapped inside. While the three men were busy carrying their precious crushes out of the building, I slipped into the chaotic crowd of evacuating students and walked right out the campus gates. A few hours later, the plane touched down in a coastal city down South. I grabbed my suitcase and walked out of the terminal. Standing near the exit was a man in a black trench coat, waiting quietly. When he saw me, he took long, purposeful strides toward me. “Mia.” Julian took my suitcase with one hand, and pulled me into a tight embrace with the other. “It’s been a long journey.” I leaned against his broad chest, the tension that had been winding me up tight for weeks finally, completely releasing. “Julian, I have absolutely nothing left.” I said it softly. Julian looked down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. “It doesn’t matter.” His voice was deep and impossibly steady. “You still have me.” The climate down South was warm and humid. I settled into a life that was entirely different from the pressure cooker of Princeton. Julian didn’t ask why I suddenly dropped out, and he didn’t ask what happened that night. He just cooked amazing meals for me every day, took me for walks along the beach, and went with me to art galleries. “Mia, this dress would look incredible on you.” In a high-end boutique, Julian held up a burgundy slip dress, holding it against me to check the fit. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. My skin was glowing, my eyes were bright. The heavy, oppressive exhaustion that shadowed me at Princeton was completely gone. “Thank you.” I changed into the dress, and Julian swiped his black card without a second thought. Years ago, Julian was the undisputed prodigy of Princeton’s Computer Science department. He came from a working-class background, but by his sophomore year, he had developed a piece of software with massive market potential. Liam saw the value of the project and tried to initiate a hostile, low-ball buyout. Julian refused. So, Liam deployed his family’s massive corporate influence to crush Julian. He teamed up with Arthur, and together they systematically severed all of Julian’s venture capital funding. Ultimately, Julian was forced to take a leave of absence. He packed up his development team, left the East Coast, and moved down South. In just three short years, the startup he founded, “NovaTech,” had exploded into one of the industry’s most dominant new tech giants. “What are you thinking about?” Julian’s warm palm gently cupped my cheek. “I was just thinking… now that you’re so incredibly wealthy, can I just shamelessly become your trophy wife?” Julian let out a low, rumbling laugh. “It would be my absolute honor. All of NovaTech, and me included, belongs entirely to you.” Meanwhile. Back in the city, at the Vance family estate. Arthur was kneeling in the family’s ancestral shrine, facing the memorial plaques of generations of Vance ancestors. His back was covered in brutal, bleeding whip marks; his white shirt was soaked through with crimson. His father held the heavy leather discipline strap, shaking with fury. “You animal! For the sake of some outsider, you got your own sister killed!” “How did the Vance family produce something as cold-blooded as you?!” Arthur kept his head bowed, his tears silently hitting the cold slate floor. “Dad, I was wrong… I really know I was wrong…” Every single night, he dreamt of the fire. He dreamt of me standing on the balcony, watching with absolute despair as he carried Serena away. Whenever he woke up, his pillow was completely soaked. Serena and Chloe had been formally indicted for arson and attempted murder, and were currently being held in county jail without bail. Arthur didn’t even attempt to post bail for Serena. He exhausted every political and legal connection the Vance family had to ensure the DA pursued the maximum possible sentence. Across town, in the sprawling library of the Hayes estate. Liam sat on a massive leather sofa, surrounded by empty whiskey bottles. On the desk in front of him lay an official DNA forensics report from the police department. The report confirmed that the DNA extracted from the charred corpse was not a match to my parents. Liam violently sat up, staring at the report, a manic, explosive joy igniting in his bloodshot eyes. “She’s not dead… Mia isn’t dead!” He stumbled out of the library, screaming orders at his executive assistant. “Find her! Pull every single flight manifest, hotel registry, and international border crossing for Mia Vance!” “Even if you have to dig up the entire earth, you find her!” Nate received the intel shortly after. He grabbed his head of security by the collar, roaring: “Find her right fucking now! If you don’t find Mia, don’t even bother coming back!” The three men who had once acted like untouchable gods were now tearing the country apart like rabid dogs, desperate to find a single trace of me.

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For the first three years after I was diagnosed with severe clinical depression, Ethan was the absolute only reason I managed to stay alive. He systematically went through our apartment and removed every single sharp object. He had heavy-duty safety netting installed across the balcony. When I took a shower, he insisted on leaving the bathroom door cracked open. “Take your time. I’ll wait for you to get better.” That was, until Chloe moved back from Europe. She had just finished a master’s program in psychology. The second she saw our apartment, she told Ethan his approach was actively reinforcing my ‘sick patient’ identity. Chapter 1 For the first three years after my diagnosis, Ethan was my anchor. He took away the knives, secured the balcony, and kept the bathroom door cracked when I showered. “Take your time,” he’d say. “I’ll wait for you to get better.” Then Chloe came back. She studied psychology abroad, and within days of her return, she diagnosed our marriage. She told Ethan his protective measures were infantilizing me. “The more you protect her, the more you validate her belief that she’s broken.” Ethan was silent for an entire night after that. The very next morning, the safety netting on the balcony was gone. “You’re only terrified because you’re locked in. Once it’s open, you’ll realize it’s nothing to be afraid of.” He put the chef’s knives back in the kitchen block. “You have to learn to coexist with these things.” He stopped coming into the bedroom at 2 AM to check if I was crying in the dark. “You need to learn how to self-soothe and process your own emotions.” And every single time he implemented one of these changes, Chloe was standing right next to him, nodding in approval. “Exactly. This is the clinically correct approach.” On the day I had a massive, suffocating panic attack hiding in the corner of a shopping mall, I overheard them walking a few feet ahead of me, speaking in hushed tones. Chloe: “Just stick to the protocol a little longer. She’s almost cured.” Ethan: “And then what?” Chloe let out a soft, breathy laugh, hooking her pinky finger around his. “And then… you’ll finally be free.” That night, I stood on the balcony. The wind was howling. The safety net was gone. … When the lock on the front door clicked open, half of my foot was already dangling over the concrete ledge. The wind ripped through the open gap, aggressively whipping my thin nightgown against my freezing legs. Ethan and Chloe walked into the apartment, laughing together. The keys in Ethan’s hand hit the hardwood floor with a sharp clack. All the blood violently drained from his face, and his body lurched forward, instinctively preparing to sprint toward me. Seeing his panic, my body reacted on pure muscle memory, shrinking back from the ledge just a fraction of an inch. In the past, whenever I even stood near the glass, he would wrap his arms around me from behind, his voice barely above a whisper, terrified of startling me. He used to say: “Mia, don’t be scared. I’m right here.” But Chloe immediately reached out and clamped her hand around his bicep. Her voice was gentle, but armed with absolute, clinical certainty. “Ethan, stop. She is using self-destructive ideation to manipulate you. If you run to her right now, you are actively reinforcing her controlling behavior.” Ethan stopped dead in his tracks in front of the sliding glass doors. He stared at me, and the frantic, desperate panic in his eyes slowly sank back down into cold, analytical restraint. Chloe kept talking. “This is textbook Borderline manipulation. She knows exactly what your triggers are, so she uses her own life as a bargaining chip. You cannot comply with this cycle anymore.” Ethan swallowed hard. I stood barefoot on the frozen concrete edge, my toes entirely numb. He looked at me through the glass, his voice dropping into a flat, exhausted register. “Mia. Look at yourself. You haven’t jumped yet, have you?” I froze. Chloe let out a soft, patronizing sigh, like a teacher dealing with a dramatic middle-schooler. Ethan draped his coat over his arm, his tone reverting to that exhausted, heavy restraint. “The wind is freezing up there. When you’re done putting on this performance, come inside. I am not going to blindly indulge this toxic behavior anymore.” My fingers, gripped tightly around the doorframe, slowly loosened, one by one. So standing on the ledge of a twenty-story building… wasn’t a crisis anymore. It was a performance. I stepped down. I walked slowly back into the living room, the freezing hardwood floor shocking my numb feet. Ethan bent down, picked up his keys, and turned to Chloe. “You were right. I enabled her for way too long.” Chloe handed him a glass of warm water, her tone soothing. “You’re doing amazing, Ethan. Caregiver burnout is real. You need to establish firm boundaries.” At 2:00 AM, I dragged myself out of bed. My chest felt like it was being crushed by a concrete block. My temples throbbed with blinding, rhythmic agony, and a relentless, high-pitched ringing filled my ears. I pulled open my nightstand drawer and fumbled in the dark until my fingers closed around my familiar white prescription bottle. I unscrewed the cap and poured the pills into my palm. Instead of my medication, a handful of brightly colored, generic candy drops spilled into my hand. I stared at my palm in the dark for a very long time. My brain couldn’t process what I was looking at. Clutching the plastic bottle, I stumbled out to the living room. Ethan was sitting on the sofa, scrolling through emails. The cold blue light of his laptop illuminated his face. Chapter 2 I held the bottle out to him, my throat so raw it physically hurt to speak. “Ethan… where is my medication?” He didn’t even look up from his screen. “I swapped it.” I braced myself against the back of the sofa, my knuckles turning white. “My chest hurts. My head feels like it’s splitting open. Please, give me my medication.” Ethan finally looked up, his brow furrowing in deep annoyance. “Chloe analyzed your dosage. You’ve exceeded the safe therapeutic window. You’ve developed a severe chemical dependency.” Chloe stepped out of the master bedroom hallway. “Mia, utilizing a placebo is a highly standard supplementary protocol. You need to start trusting your own psychological resilience.” Ethan snatched the bottle from my shaking hand and dropped a single candy piece back into my palm. “Just eat this. Push through the night, and you’ll feel better tomorrow. Stop treating yourself like an invalid.” A violent wave of nausea hit my stomach. I gripped the edge of the coffee table, dry heaving aggressively. He stood up, clearly losing the last shred of his patience. “I have a massive board meeting tomorrow morning. Do not drag this tantrum out all night.” I dropped to my knees on the rug, my fingers digging desperately into the corner of the coffee table. “Ethan, please.” His footsteps hitched for a fraction of a second. Chloe murmured softly, “Ethan, she is testing your boundaries.” His spine immediately stiffened. He walked past me and pushed the master bedroom door open. “Process your emotions on your own.” Click. The deadbolt locked. I lay face-down in the pitch-black living room, listening to my own breathing grow more and more erratic, gasping for air that wouldn’t fill my lungs. I remained curled in a tight, shivering ball on the rug until the sun came up. The next morning, Ethan walked over and tossed a cocktail dress onto the coffee table. He looked down at me, still trembling on the floor, his voice entirely devoid of emotion. “Get dressed. We’re taking Chloe out for a welcome-back lunch.” I shook my head, my throat so constricted I couldn’t form a complete word. The agonizing withdrawal symptoms from the abruptly stopped medication were ravaging my body. Even the faint mechanical hum of the elevator outside in the hallway sent a stabbing pain through my eardrums. Ethan bent down, clamped his hand around my wrist, and forcefully dragged me up off the floor. “Exposure therapy is the most clinically proven method. You cannot spend the rest of your life rotting in this apartment.” I stumbled forward, entirely off balance. A dark red bruise was already forming around my wrist where he gripped me. “I’m not going. Not today. I can’t.” Chloe leaned out from the kitchen doorway, her tone sweet and coaxing. “Mia, avoiding the trigger only magnifies the phobia. You need to show Ethan that you’re making an effort.” Ethan glanced at her, his eyes softening for a microsecond. When he looked back at me, his grip on my wrist tightened significantly. “Be a good girl. Don’t make this difficult for me.” The lighting in the private dining room was blindingly bright. Around the large circular table sat a dozen of Ethan’s closest friends—the same people who had watched him dedicate the last three years to keeping me alive. When I walked in, someone immediately laughed and called out: “Wow, the bride finally left the tower! Ethan, you’ve really been going through it these last three years, man.” I sat in the farthest corner of the room, violently twisting the fabric of my skirt in my lap. My chest was seizing up in tight, painful spasms. Chloe held a glass of warm water, walked over, and stood right next to my chair. Her voice wasn’t loud, but it was perfectly pitched to ensure the entire table heard her. “Guys, please don’t look at Mia like she’s a patient. Excessive sympathy only reinforces her victim complex. She’s actually incredibly healthy now. Isn’t that right, Mia?” A dozen pairs of eyes locked onto me. I opened my mouth, but only a faint, broken wheeze came out. Sitting right next to Chloe, Ethan rhythmically tapped his finger against his water glass. “Say something. Stop forcing everyone else to cover for your awkwardness.” A guy across the table snorted. “It’s depression, not terminal cancer. Mia, give it a rest already.” “Seriously, Ethan’s been orbiting you 24/7 for years. Anyone would be exhausted.” “Chloe gets back, and within a week she has Mia out in public acting normal. Having a professional around makes a massive difference.” Every single word they said drove into my brain like a rusted nail. I clamped my hands over my ears, my entire body convulsing with uncontrollable tremors. Chloe leaned down, gently placing a hand on my shoulder. “Look, the avoidance mechanism is activating. Don’t panic, guys, we’re actively desensitizing her.” Her designer perfume assaulted my senses. It was the exact same perfume I had smelled on Ethan’s collar last night. Chapter 3 I shot up from my chair with such violent force that my knee slammed into the heavy wooden table, knocking my water glass over. The red wine sitting next to it tipped, splashing directly across Ethan’s crisp white dress shirt. The private dining room went dead silent. Ethan looked down at the dark crimson stain spreading across his chest. He pulled a napkin and began methodically dabbing at it, the veins in the back of his hand bulging aggressively against his skin. I couldn’t draw a breath. My lungs were completely blocked. I collapsed into a crouch on the floor, digging my fingers desperately into the carpet. “Take me home, Ethan. Please, take me home.” In the past, when an attack hit me in public, he would instantly strip off his jacket, drape it over my head to block the sensory overload, scoop me into his arms, and carry me out. But this time, he just stared down at me with absolute, freezing contempt. “Are you done throwing this tantrum?” Chloe reached out and gently touched his cuff, her voice soft and soothing. “Don’t get angry with her, it’s just a withdrawal response. If you pull her out of the environment now, the exposure therapy fails entirely, and we’re back to square one.” Ethan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and sat back down in his chair. He picked up his water glass, his voice dropping to a low, lethal register. “Mia. Stand up. Walk back to your seat.” I tilted my head back, looking up at him from the floor. My vision was completely blurred with tears. All I could see was him and Chloe, sitting shoulder-to-shoulder, incredibly close. Chloe handed him a fresh napkin, her fingertips lingering against his palm for a fraction of a second. He didn’t pull away. I stared at him in absolute, suffocating despair. My tears hit the carpet. “And if I can’t stand up?” Ethan looked at me, his eyes entirely devoid of anything except exhausted apathy. “Then you stay on the floor. I am not helping you up.” Someone at the table muttered softly, “Damn, Ethan finally grew a spine.” Chloe picked up her wine glass and lightly clinked it against Ethan’s. “You’re doing amazing, Ethan.” The table erupted back into loud, boisterous laughter and conversation. Not a single person bothered to check if I was actually suffocating to death on the floor. Ethan even joined in the laughter. The tether that had kept my sanity anchored for three years violently snapped. My fingers were still dug into the carpet, my nails scraped raw and bleeding, but I literally couldn’t feel the pain. I slowly forced myself to stand up. Ethan let out an audible sigh of relief. “See? That’s exactly how you do it. Stop demanding that the entire universe revolves around your anxiety.” I leaned heavily against the wall, pushed the heavy door of the private room open, and walked out into the pouring rain. Ethan didn’t follow me. The torrential rain instantly soaked through my dress, the freezing water clinging to my skin like ice. With trembling hands, I dug my phone out of my pocket, desperately trying to call my actual psychiatrist. But before my thumb could even press the call button, my vision went completely black, and a catastrophic wave of suffocation pulled me under. When I woke up, Ethan was standing next to my hospital bed, holding a small plastic medication cup, staring down at me like a warden. “Acute pneumonia. You’ve had a massive fever for two days.” I instinctively reached for my nightstand to grab my phone. It wasn’t there. “Give me my phone.” Ethan intentionally avoided making eye contact. “Chloe reviewed your search history. You’re constantly reading toxic support group forums, and you’ve been contacting your old doctor to solicit psychiatric narcotics. It’s completely sabotaging your desensitization protocol.” “You are past the point where you should be relying on conservative, chemical-dependent treatments.” Chloe walked into the room, holding her clinical clipboard. “I already spoke with Dr. Evans. Her methodology relies way too heavily on chemical suppression. It’s entirely inappropriate for your current phase of recovery.” “To eliminate any interference with the new treatment plan, I deleted her contact information.” Ethan held the medication cup out to me. “Take this. And stop glaring at her.” I didn’t take the cup. His patience instantly evaporated. He slammed the cup down onto the bedside table. “Whenever you decide you’re ready to start living like a normal, functioning human being, you’ll get your phone back.” I didn’t beg him. I just stared at the wall, my eyes completely, utterly hollow. My dead-eyed silence clearly unsettled Ethan. He turned around and grabbed his jacket. “Once you’re dressed, I’m taking you somewhere.” Half an hour later, he led me into the dark, damp basement level of an abandoned industrial warehouse complex. When he pushed the heavy steel doors open, the overwhelming, sickening stench of rust and rotting metal hit me like a physical blow. Sitting dead center under a flickering, broken fluorescent bulb was the crushed, mangled husk of a totaled sedan. The front end was completely caved in, the windshield shattered into a million spiderwebs of glass. Chapter 4 My feet cemented themselves to the concrete. Three years ago, that exact car had careened out of control, rocketing directly toward Ethan. I shoved him out of the way. The impact shattered two of my ribs and triggered a severe, catastrophic case of PTSD. From that exact day forward, I had never slept through the night. Ethan clamped his hands onto my shoulders, physically forcing me deeper into the room. “Confronting the trauma is the absolute, singular path to curing PTSD.” My fingernails dug desperately into the steel doorframe. “Ethan, please. Don’t do this.” Chloe stood right behind him, her clipboard tucked under her arm. “Mia, the traumatic memory has to be behaviorally recoded. You need to trust Ethan. He is doing this to save you.” Ethan shoved me forward with all his strength. I stumbled into the dark basement, crashing hard onto my knees against the filthy concrete floor. The heavy steel door slammed shut behind me. I lunged at the door, pounding my fists against the metal, my voice cracking in absolute terror. “Ethan! Let me out! Please!” He looked at me through the small, barred window in the door. His eyes were heavy with a deeply frustrated exhaustion. “You are going to sit in there and look at that car until you aren’t afraid of it anymore.” I shook my head violently, my fingers desperately gripping the freezing iron bars of the window. “I’m going to die in here.” A flicker of hesitation crossed Ethan’s eyes. Chloe leaned in and whispered, “She is catastrophizing the fear response. If you yield now, she controls the dynamic.” He closed his eyes, his voice turning to stone. “Mia. I am so fucking tired.” I froze. Ethan looked at me, his voice carrying the distinct, self-pitying resentment of a man who felt he had sacrificed too much. “I just want the bright, sunny girl I used to know back. Can you not, for one second, have a little sympathy for me?” My fingers slowly let go of the iron bars. Chloe gently wrapped her arm through his. “You’re doing the right thing, Ethan. Desensitization is a painful metamorphosis. She has to break out of the cocoon.” Their footsteps echoed down the concrete hallway, growing fainter and fainter until there was absolute silence. I was entirely alone in the dark with the mangled car. I slumped against the wall, sliding down into the corner, my fingers slowly, mechanically digging into the peeling paint on the concrete. The stench of rust, the sound of shattering glass, the screeching tires—every single horrific sensory detail exploded out of the darkness, violently assaulting my brain. I bit down on the back of my hand until I tasted blood. I didn’t scream. For ten agonizing hours, I clawed at the wall until a massive chunk of paint peeled away. My fingernails tore backward, blood smearing across the cold, gray concrete. Someone came to the door exactly twice. The first time was Ethan. He stood outside the heavy door for a very long time, but he never turned the handle. The second time was Chloe. Through the heavy steel, I heard her say: “Excellent behavioral charting. She has completely ceased her distress vocalizations.” I heard my own laugh echo in the dark. It was incredibly faint. I finally realized the truth. They didn’t actually care if I survived this. They just wanted me to shut the fuck up. Sometime around 3:00 AM, a piece of paper was slid under the gap in the door. It was a printed schedule for the next phase of the “Behavioral Desensitization Protocol.” Written entirely in Chloe’s handwriting. At the very bottom of the page, on the authorization line, was Ethan’s signature. The date next to his signature was the exact day before he ripped the safety netting off our balcony. I held the piece of paper with my bleeding, torn fingertips. The last remaining shred of warmth in my chest slowly, permanently turned to ice. When Ethan finally unlocked the heavy steel doors, I was sitting quietly next to the crushed car. I wasn’t shaking. I wasn’t crying. I just looked up at him and offered a faint, placid smile. His eyes instantly lit up like a supernova. “Mia!” He sprinted into the room and pulled me into a crushing, desperate hug, his hands gripping my back. “Thank God! I knew you could do it!” Chloe stood in the doorway, a flash of genuine surprise crossing her face, before she quickly masked it with a smug, professional smile. “See, Ethan? The clinical intervention was a complete success.” Ethan hugged me even tighter. “You’re finally cured.” I rested my chin gently on his shoulder. “Yeah. I’m cured.” For the next half-month, I functioned exactly like a perfectly normal, healthy human being. I woke up early to cook breakfast. I ironed Ethan’s shirts. When Chloe came over to conduct her ‘clinical evaluations,’ I smiled and poured her glasses of warm water. The tense, exhausted vigilance in Ethan’s eyes completely vanished. He started taking me out to dinner with his friends again, bragging to anyone who would listen that Chloe had performed a miracle and saved our lives. His friends showered Chloe with praise. Ethan nodded, his tone lighter and more buoyant than it had been in years.

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For our college graduation trip, my five-person friend group agreed to take a cross-country Amtrak train out to the Colorado Rockies. It was me, my boyfriend, two childhood guy friends, and my female best friend. I had known them all for fifteen years. On the day we booked the tickets, my best friend mentioned the system only had four sleeper cabins and one twenty-six-hour coach seat left. Before I could even open my mouth, my boyfriend had already assigned the coach seat to me. “You’re healthy. Pulling an all-nighter in a regular seat won’t kill you.” My best friend softly offered to take the coach seat instead. But the two guys immediately pushed her back down into her chair. “You have a bad back, Chloe. Don’t push it.” My boyfriend grabbed my suitcase and hauled it toward the coach car, throwing a flat look over his shoulder. “She’s always been the baby of the group. Don’t be petty.” And honestly, I wasn’t being petty. Throughout college, whenever Chloe was scared of the dark, my boyfriend walked her back to her dorm. When Chloe failed a class, my two guy friends took turns tutoring her. Even when the five of us went out to eat and there was only one dessert left, it was an unspoken rule that it went to her. The phrase I heard the most from them was: “You’re the mature one, Maya. Be the bigger person.” Two hours after the train pulled out of the station, I saw Chloe post on Instagram. In the photo, she was bundled up in my favorite fleece blanket, resting her head on my boyfriend’s shoulder, while the other two guys were peeling fruit for her. The caption read: [So lucky to have my three boys always spoiling me.] I stared at the words “my three boys” for a very long time. And then, I grabbed my bag and got off at the very next stop. I’m not going on this graduation trip anymore. And I don’t want the four of them anymore, either. 1 Three hours after I got off the train, I was still sitting on a plastic bench in the station waiting room. I just wanted to see how long it would take them to realize I was gone. Our group chat was still popping off. Noah sent a photo of a container of sliced mangoes. [Way too sweet, but Chloe insists it’s good.] Ethan sent a candid shot. Chloe, wrapped tightly in my blanket, was curled up asleep against Liam. [The princess is finally out. Almost threw up on my sneakers earlier.] Liam, my boyfriend, replied with an eye-roll emoji. [Your fault for buying those sour plums.] They talked about the fruit, about dinner, about which hiking trail in Colorado they wanted to hit first. No one mentioned me. And not a single one of them had walked back to the coach car to check on me. At 9:00 PM, my phone finally rang. Liam’s name flashed on the screen. My chest tightened. I even started practicing how I was going to explain why I got off the train early. But the moment the call connected, his first sentence was: “Do you have any heating patches in your bag?” I froze. “What?” “Chloe’s got terrible cramps. She’s pale as a ghost.” It was loud on his end. I could hear Chloe taking sharp, pained breaths. Noah was asking if she wanted water, and Ethan was loudly urging Liam to figure something out. I gripped my phone tightly. “So you called me… for a heating patch?” “Obviously. Why else?” Liam clearly didn’t catch the shift in my tone. “Coach is mostly girls, right? Ask around. Someone definitely has one.” “It’s not really convenient for me.” “It’s literally just asking a question, how is it not convenient? You think it’s easier for three grown men to ask around for period stuff?” Noah overheard him and shouted directly into the phone. “Maya, Chloe is literally crying from the pain. Can you not throw a tantrum right now?” Ethan chimed in too: “Are you seriously going to ruin the vibe of this entire trip just because you didn’t get a sleeper ticket?” I stared out at the pitch-black railroad tracks outside the station window and suddenly asked: “Do you guys even know where I am right now?” The other end of the line went dead silent for two seconds. Then, Liam answered with blatant impatience: “Where else would you be? You’re in coach. Go find a heating patch, do you really want to sit there and let her suffer?” Chloe’s weak, fragile voice drifted through the speaker. “Forget it, Liam. Don’t make things hard for Maya. She’s already unhappy about having to sit in coach. I can just endure it.” The more she played the martyr, the more the three of them felt she was being wronged. Liam’s voice turned ice-cold. “She’s literally making excuses for you while she’s in pain. What more do you want from her?” A tear broke free and hit the back of my hand. I wiped it away roughly. “Whoever wants a heating patch can go ask for it themselves.” Noah lost his temper on the spot. “Would it kill you to ask?! Chloe always thinks of you whenever she has something good, is this how you repay her?” Chloe’s idea of “thinking of me” was asking if I wanted to split the cost of a cake she wanted to buy, or tagging me dead last in the corner of a group photo on Instagram. Ethan offered a cold warning: “You’re the one holding the hotel itinerary. We came out here to have fun. Do you have to make things this toxic?” I wiped my eyes until they were dry. “Then have fun.” With that, I hung up. The five-person group chat immediately exploded. Noah tagged me over a dozen times. [It’s a simple favor, why are you playing dead?] [If Chloe actually ends up in the hospital, are you going to be able to live with the guilt?] Ethan piled on the blame. [We literally offered you the sleeper, you’re the one who didn’t take it.] When did anyone ever offer it to me? Liam sent one final message. [Hurry up and bring the heating patch here.] I didn’t reply. The station intercom announced that the final connecting bus into the city was preparing for departure. I grabbed the handle of my suitcase and walked out of the station. Fifteen minutes later, Noah sent a message. [You aren’t at your seat.] Ethan immediately asked: [Is she going around looking for the heating patch?] It took Liam a few minutes to reply. [Good. At least she listens.] Chloe sent a little giggling emoji. [I knew Maya wouldn’t abandon me.] Half an hour passed. I still hadn’t appeared. Liam’s calls started coming in one after another. I declined every single one. Soon, he sent a voice memo. “If you can’t borrow one, just come back to our cabin. Noah saved you some fruit, you can come have a few bites.” My eyes burned. But the voice memo wasn’t over. “Chloe needs to use the restroom, you should be here to help her walk.” The bus slowly pulled away from the station. Liam sent another text. [I told Noah to wait for you by the doors of our train car.] [Hurry up. Stop wandering around.] I looked out the bus window. The little rural train station was disappearing into the distance. And they still fully believed I was on that train. 2 Noah waited by the doors of the sleeper car for twenty minutes. I never showed up. He sent an audio message. “Maya, where the hell did you run off to?” “If you can’t find the patch, just come back. No one is mad at you.” He paused, then added: “The mango is still here. If you don’t get here soon, Ethan is going to finish it.” Growing up, whenever Noah and I got into a fight, he would always save me a bite of whatever he was eating to make peace. When I was twelve, we had a massive argument. He left the very last popsicle from the freezer on my front porch and refused to leave until I opened the door and took it. Listening to that voice memo, my resolve actually wavered for a second. Maybe if I just laid everything out and explained it clearly, they would understand that giving me the coach seat without asking wasn’t okay. I had just typed the word “I” when Noah’s next audio message popped up. “Chloe is hurting so bad she can’t walk.” “Hurry back so you can help her to the bathroom.” I deleted the text in my input box. My phone vibrated again. This time it was Ethan. [Pick a better time to throw a tantrum.] [Chloe might have stained her pants. Are her extra clothes in your suitcase?] Before we left, Chloe complained her own suitcase was too full and shoved two outfits and her entire toiletry bag into mine. I had told her I didn’t want to carry it. Her eyes had instantly welled with tears. “Maya, do you think I’m annoying?” In the end, Liam had agreed on my behalf. He said I was strong, and carrying a few extra shirts wouldn’t tire me out. No one bothered to ask if my suitcase was already full. I didn’t reply. Ethan sent two more messages. [When you come back, we’ll make some room for you on the bunks.] [It’s better than sitting in coach all night.] At a glance, it almost looked like they cared. But they were only calling me over so I could fetch clothes and play bathroom attendant for Chloe. Once the chores were done, I would undoubtedly be sent right back to coach. Liam called again. I stared at the screen for a long time, but finally answered. “Where exactly are you?” His tone had softened slightly. “The train is crowded. Don’t wander around aimlessly.” My nose stung. “Are you worried about me?” “Of course I’m worried.” He answered without missing a beat. “Stop acting out.” “Come back and have some fruit. I’ll take you to the dining car to buy you actual food later.” Suddenly, there was a muffled groan through the phone. Chloe was apparently in pain again. Liam immediately asked me: “Did you bring her clothes?” “No.” “Then go back and get them.” “I can’t.” The softness in his voice vanished instantly. “I am literally coaxing you right now, what more do you want?” “Chloe’s pants are dirty, how is she supposed to be seen like this? You’re her best friend, shouldn’t you be here for her when she needs you?” Liam sounded so incredibly self-righteous. I stared at the unfamiliar street lamps passing by the bus window. “What about you?” “You are my boyfriend.” “I’ve been sitting alone in a coach car for hours. Why didn’t I see you coming back to keep me company?” He went silent for a moment. “Is that the same thing?” “You’re not the one who’s sick.” There it was again. Because I’m healthy, I don’t get tired. Because I know how to take care of myself, I can always, permanently be placed last. “Then figure it out yourselves.” I hung up the phone. A few minutes later, Chloe sent a message to the group chat. [Maya, I know you don’t like me.] [But staining my pants wasn’t intentional. Please don’t fight with Liam because of me.] Noah replied instantly: [It has nothing to do with you. She’s just spoiled.] So leaving me a couple of pieces of oxidized fruit meant I was “spoiled.” Liam sent me a private photo. It was a picture of a lukewarm bento box, the remaining mangoes, and a bottle of my favorite orange juice. [Saved this for you.] [Come back, I won’t scold you.] I stared at the photo for a long time. If there hadn’t been a follow-up message, I might have actually cracked. [Remember to bring Chloe’s clothes.] I turned off my phone completely and walked into a cheap motel near the bus terminal. Half an hour later, Noah posted a photo of the untouched bento box to the group chat. [We gave her an out and she refused to take it.] Chloe asked timidly: [Is Maya still mad at me?] Liam replied: [Ignore her.] [She’ll come crawling back when she gets hungry.] A hot, heavy tear hit the back of my hand, feeling like it was burning my skin. They were so unbelievably certain that I would come back. Because for the last fifteen years, I was always the one who turned around. But this time, I truly wasn’t looking back. 3 The next morning, I was woken up by the relentless vibrating of my phone turning back on. Liam had called thirteen times. The unread messages in the group chat had maxed out at 99+. At 2:00 AM, Ethan had messaged: [You still aren’t back at your seat?] Noah followed up: [I went back to check again. The seat is still empty.] Chloe asked: [Is Maya hiding somewhere crying?] It took Liam a few minutes to reply. [She likes to be alone to cool off after an argument.] [Just let her be.] At 3:00 AM, Liam sent me a private text. [Don’t fall asleep in the vestibule between the cars, the draft is freezing.] I stared at that sentence, a dull ache spreading through my chest. He knew it was freezing out there. Yet it never once occurred to him to ask why I would rather hide in a freezing vestibule than return to their side. At 6:00 AM, Noah sent a photo of a hard-boiled egg. [Saved for you. Hurry up and come back to eat.] Ethan posted a picture of breakfast. [The coffee is getting cold.] These habits, preserved over a decade, looked so much like genuine care. But they always fell just a little bit short. Chloe soon sent a voice memo. “Maya, please stop being mad.” “Liam and the guys took turns looking after me all night, they barely slept.” “Can you come back and watch the luggage so they can get some sleep? Please?” I looked at the breakfast photos and suddenly laughed. They weren’t afraid I was starving. They just wanted me to clock in for my shift. Liam sent a text. [Come back and eat breakfast. I’ll make ten minutes for you to lie down on my bunk.] I replied: [And then?] [What do you mean ‘and then’?] [After I lie down for ten minutes, then what?] It took him half a minute to reply. [You take over keeping Chloe company.] See? Even ten minutes of basic rest had to be bought by taking care of Chloe. I headed into town and called an Uber. Liam’s name popped up on my screen again. I answered it. “Did you eat anything?” This was the very first time since I got off the train that he had actually asked if I had eaten. “I ate.” “What did you have?” “Noodles.” “You have a sensitive stomach, don’t eat spicy food first thing in the morning.” His voice had completely returned to its old, gentle warmth. “We’re almost at the next major station, just come back to our car. I’ll have Noah save you a spot on the bottom bunk so you can sit for half an hour.” I gripped my phone. “Liam.” “Yeah?” “Have you guys seriously not realized something yet?” “Realized what?” I turned to look out the Uber window. That train was already hundreds of miles away from me. Yet they still firmly believed I was sulking in some random train car, waiting for them to coax me out. “Nothing.” On the other end of the line, Chloe suddenly called his name. She said she felt a chill and wanted some hot water. Liam agreed, then said to me: “Are you near the dining car? Grab a cup of hot water and bring it over on your way.” I didn’t answer. He waited a few seconds, his tone growing impatient again. “I already asked you if you ate. How much more do you want me to coax you?” “It’s just grabbing a cup of water. Do you really have to throw a fit over this?” Apparently, simply asking if I had eaten was supposed to instantly neutralize all my grievances. I hung up the phone. Noah quickly tagged me in the group chat. [Liam already swallowed his pride, don’t push it.] Ethan added: [We arrive in six hours.] [If you have a problem, wait until we’re off the train to throw your tantrum. Don’t make everyone miserable.] Liam sent one last text. [Don’t run off when we get to the station.] [We’ll come to the coach car to get you.] I stared at those two lines of text, and I honestly couldn’t wait to see the looks on their faces when they finally realized I wasn’t there. 4 With three hours left until they reached their destination, Liam called again. I didn’t answer. He sent a voice memo. “How long are you going to keep this up?” “We saved you food, we offered to let you rest. You won’t come back, you won’t answer your phone. Everyone is genuinely worried about you.” Hearing that last sentence, my eyes still turned red. Fifteen years of history isn’t something you can just erase. Even though they only ever reached out to me when they needed something for Chloe, hearing the words “worried about you” still sparked a pathetic glimmer of hope. The next voice memo autoplayed immediately. “Chloe is running a slight fever.” “Did you pack any Tylenol? Bring it over right now.” The tiny spark of hope that had just ignited was instantly extinguished. At 10:00 AM, Ethan sent a message. [One hour until arrival.] [When we get off, don’t wander off alone. Meet us at the main exit.] Noah sent a photo of the fruit container. The mangoes had turned completely brown and oxidized. Only two sad pieces remained. [Saved this specifically for you.] [Don’t ever say we don’t think about you.] I looked at those two oxidized, leftover pieces of fruit and couldn’t help but laugh out loud. Chloe got an entire, freshly cut container. I got the brown leftovers. But in the past, I actually would have been happy. At least they hadn’t forgotten me entirely. Liam sent the final message. [Once we get to Denver, I’ll take you to that famous steakhouse you wanted to try.] [This time you don’t have to look after Chloe. I’ll just keep you company.] I stared at the screen for a long time before replying: [Really?] [Really.] A few seconds later, he sent two more messages. [But it’s Chloe’s first time in Colorado, so obviously we have to eat together.] [She’s timid, so please, stop giving her attitude.] I put my phone down. So “keeping me company” still meant bringing her along as the main character. He never once asked why I was unhappy. Because in his mind, all my emotions were just me being immature. As the train prepared to pull into the station, the group chat came alive. Chloe had changed into a new sundress and twirled for a video. Noah told her she looked beautiful. Ethan reminded her to put on sunscreen. Liam helped her shoulder her backpack, reminding her not to wander off in the crowd. They hovered around her, double-checking her phone and her ID. No one checked on me. Once the train came to a complete stop, Liam sent a voice memo. “We’re getting off.” “Just wait at your seat. Don’t try to push through the crowd in the aisles.” “Noah is coming to get you.” It sounded exactly like when we were kids. After school, he would always tell me to stand by the front gates and not move. He said he would always come to get me. And eventually, they all just assumed that I would never, ever walk away on my own. I took one last look at Liam’s profile picture, and powered off my phone. Meanwhile, Noah, holding the oxidized mangoes, shoved his way upstream against the crowd pouring out of the coach car. When he reached my assigned seat, he stopped. The seat was completely empty. A cleaning lady was wiping down the tray table opposite it. Noah looked frantically around the car. “Excuse me, do you know where the girl who was sitting here went?” The cleaning lady paused to think. “Shoulder-length hair, dragging a white hardshell suitcase?” “Yes.” “Oh, she left ages ago.” Noah frowned. “Is she in the bathroom?” The cleaning lady looked at him like he was crazy. “What bathroom?” “She grabbed her suitcase and got off the train last night.” The irritation on Noah’s face froze solid. “Last night?” “Yeah.” The lady added casually: “Before she left, she sat in that seat for a really long time.” “She was crying all by herself, and nobody ever came looking for her.” Noah didn’t say a word. The plastic container in his hand tilted slightly. The two rotting mangoes rolled to the side, smearing sticky, brown juice against the plastic. His head snapped up to look at the overhead luggage rack. There were only a few unfamiliar backpacks left. No white hardshell suitcase. Nothing that belonged to me. It was only in that exact moment that it finally clicked. I hadn’t gone looking for a heating patch. I wasn’t hiding in the vestibule waiting for them to coax me. I hadn’t been on this train since yesterday evening.

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After failing to romance two different billionaire CEOs, I completely, unequivocally gave up. When the system issued my third target, even it had stopped trying. [If you die one more time, we’re going to get demoted to background NPCs.] My eyes instantly lit up. [Wait, is that a promise?] So, when my new target’s childhood best friend slapped me across the face and demanded I jump into the ocean to retrieve her bracelet… I didn’t say a single word. I just dove headfirst into the freezing water. My target was absolutely stunned. He frantically ordered his security team to fish me out. “Is this how you try to get my attention? You’re just a sugar baby, do you honestly think your life is worth that much?” He used the toe of his designer loafer to tilt my chin up, his voice dripping with mockery. I offered a weak, shivering smirk. “You’re right. It’s not worth anything. I’ll go die right now.” Before he could react, I snatched the glass liquor bottle from his hand, smashed it against the deck, and violently dragged a jagged shard across my own arm. My target was completely paralyzed with shock. As my consciousness began to fade, I heard him screaming into his phone: “Hey! How hard did you guys push her in the last few rounds?! This host is literally trying to kill herself!” He seemed to be shouting the names of my first two targets. Perfect. If I could just rack up a few more death counters with these guys, I could finally say goodbye to this miserable game! 1 I opened my eyes to the overwhelming, sterile stench of hospital bleach. Loud voices echoed around me. “I didn’t even do anything yet.” “Honestly, watching her play the desperate, pathetic puppy dog for you guys definitely made me curious.” “But now that it’s finally my turn, why is she acting like a complete psycho? It’s honestly kind of a buzzkill.” The voice was arrogant and flippant. I recognized it instantly. It was my newest target, Carter Sterling. The System shrieked in my ear: [No wonder every single mission failed! They were manipulating their affection meters the entire time!] [Thank God you decided to quit, host. Otherwise, you would have been tortured by these psychos for a third round…] [You know what? I’m giving up too. Just call me the Death System now. Let’s finish this death quota so we can hit the NPC track.] I let out a cold, raspy scoff. My brain felt like it was still drowning in seawater; I had zero energy to speak. The next second, the hospital room door was kicked open. Carter strutted in, his arm wrapped protectively around his childhood best friend, Chloe. She buried her face in his chest, putting on a sickeningly fragile, tearful act: “Carter, I swear I didn’t say anything to her! I have no idea why Maya suddenly went crazy…” “Everyone was so worried about saving her, they made me look like the bad guy. All I wanted was for her to give back the limited-edition bracelet she stole from me…” She shot me a covert, triumphant smirk from behind his jacket. During my previous attempts, I had grown completely numb to this exact brand of manufactured, mean-girl sabotage. At first, I used to fight back. I used to defend myself desperately. I would stand my ground, practically willing to rip my own heart out just to prove my innocence. Later, I learned to just drop to my knees, beg for forgiveness, and accept whatever humiliating punishment they demanded. All just to look obedient, hoping my target would pat me on the head and throw me a few scraps of affection points. But now I know the affection points were completely faked… A massive, crushing sense of absurdity washed over me. Seeing my completely dead, unresponsive expression. Carter clearly lost his patience. He aggressively yanked my hospital blanket back: “That bracelet cost over a hundred grand. How exactly are you planning to pay for it?” I met his glare with dead eyes. “Let me make one thing clear. Stop using these pathetic, psychotic stunts to try and manipulate me.” “A cheap piece of trash like you should be on your knees thanking me that I even allow you to be my sidepiece…” His voice abruptly died in his throat. Because, fueled by a sudden, inexplicable burst of adrenaline. I vaulted straight over the hospital windowsill, half my body already hanging out into the open air. I offered him a bright, cheerful smile. The next second, a hand clamped down on my arm with bone-crushing force, violently yanking me backward. The agonizing pull on my torn muscles snapped me back to reality. “What the fuck are you doing?!” His arrogant, relaxed demeanor completely shattered. “We’re on the third floor! Jumping from here won’t kill you! Do you honestly think you can threaten me with your worthless life?!” He screamed the words. But the fingers gripping my forearm were digging into my skin so hard it bruised. “You psychotic, manipulative bitch…” Carter forced a furious curse out of his throat. “If you want to seduce me, then sit down and act like a good girl.” “I don’t play these dramatic, suicidal games.” He pulled the terrified, trembling Chloe tighter against his chest, turning to bark an order at his bodyguards: “Get her changed. I’m taking her out.” I sat lazily on the edge of the bed, completely compliant, letting the staff dress me and fix my hair. Then, I was shoved into the back of Carter’s sleek black Maybach. As the city skyline blurred past the tinted windows. My brain suddenly sparked to life. If I open the door and tuck-and-roll right now, maybe I can die even faster! But the exact second my fingers brushed the chrome door handle, Carter violently snatched my wrist. “Maya, what the hell are you trying to do now?” His sharp, striking features zoomed in on my face. His expression was laced with intense, aggressive irritation. “Why do you keep pulling these insane stunts the second you’re with me…” “Listen, I like women who are gentle and obedient. Act right, and maybe I’ll actually give you what you want.” Ah. He was hinting at the affection points. In the past, I used to bend over backward, desperately trying to analyze exactly what my targets wanted. If they liked thrill-seekers, I did extreme sports. When my parachute ‘accidentally’ malfunctioned, I dragged a target out of a ravine, surviving for two days on rainwater, getting so desperate I actually caught and ate a snake. If they liked elegant, submissive women, I watched them cycle through mistresses. I would force a perfect, polite smile and personally deliver condoms to their hotel rooms. I had been bled, beaten, and literally had organs harvested. All of it, just my physical body being pushed to the absolute limit. Just to earn a microscopic fraction of their approval. But today, I finally woke up. What could possibly be more beautiful than death? No matter what they did, I still had the ultimate exit strategy. Once I close my eyes, I never have to deal with these psychopaths again. 2 The Maybach pulled up to the venue. That’s when I realized we had arrived at an engagement party. When Chloe saw me step out of the car, her face violently contorted. The next second, she and her clique of wealthy socialites formed a wall, aggressively backing me into a corner. “Where the hell did you come from? Who gave you permission to stalk Carter?!” She hissed through clenched teeth. Seeing Carter walking toward us, she intentionally brushed hard against my shoulder and dramatically threw herself backward, plunging directly into the venue’s massive decorative fountain. The move was executed with flawless, practiced precision. I paused for a second, mentally consulting the System: [I really need to learn her technique for finding instant, dramatic ways to die.] “Oh my god! How could you push her?!” Her friends immediately started shrieking and pointing fingers. Carter, playing the knight in shining armor, quickly fished her out of the water. As soon as he did, he pointed a furious finger directly at my face: “Have I been too nice to you?! Have you completely forgotten your place?!” “You actually have the audacity to lay a hand on my people?!” I lifted my eyes, a lazy, mocking smirk pulling at my lips: “If Mr. Sterling doesn’t need me anymore, he’s more than welcome to let me go.” “You!” Maybe it was the blatant, undisguised contempt in my smile that triggered him. Carter completely lost it. He grabbed the delicate gold chain around my neck and violently twisted it. The thin metal dug deep into the fragile skin of my throat, a wave of suffocating darkness rushing over me. Yes. Do it. Pull harder. My eyes lit up with genuine excitement. I intentionally threw my body weight backward, increasing the tension on the chain, an expression of euphoric satisfaction spreading across my face… But the sweet release of death didn’t come. Carter abruptly let go, and my momentum sent me crashing heavily onto the marble patio. “Are you completely insane? “Why does everyone else get the fun version, but when it’s my turn, you turn into this psychotic freak?” Carter cursed, practically spitting the words. “Carter, you’re losing your temper way too fast. Did you actually think she was going to let herself die?” The voice cutting through the tension was incredibly familiar. I opened my eyes. Standing there was a striking, impeccably dressed man, a cynical, detached smirk playing on his lips. It was Julian Vance. My second target. I had been assigned to him when his family’s corporate empire was on the absolute brink of collapse. I stayed up with him night after night, drinking with venture capitalists until I developed a perforated ulcer. I essentially worked as a full-time, unpaid hospice nurse for his dying mother for six months. I clearly remember him gripping my hand, crying, telling me I was an angel sent from heaven to save his life. But now, he was standing high above me, watching me bleed on the ground with absolute amusement: “Is this a new strategy? I have to admit, it’s original.” “Why the sudden shift to the extreme, suicidal route?” “But then again, high risk, high reward. Your acting is phenomenal.” [These guys are absolute monsters. They literally falsified their affection meters just to drag out the game and torture us!] The System was furiously defending me in my head. The next second, a pair of flawlessly polished, custom Italian oxfords stopped directly in front of my face. “Maya, drop the act. “You’ll use any pathetic, degrading stunt just to seduce someone. It’s disgusting.” I lifted my head, meeting his eyes. Ethan Hayes. My very first target. My throat was still raw and bruised from being choked. I lay on the marble, coughing violently, a sickly, feverish flush spreading across my face. Ethan involuntarily took a half-step toward me. In his eyes… was that grief? Or resentment? I didn’t have time to process it, because he violently turned his head away. When he spoke, his words were the same icy, brutal daggers he always threw at me: “Pathetic. Did you honestly think playing the suicidal victim would earn you sympathy and boost your affection points?” “Let me make something incredibly clear. None of us are falling for your psychotic little tricks. You spent all that time desperately trying to romance us, and you didn’t even realize we had full control over the affection meters the entire time.” I didn’t look up at him. I just kept my head down, focusing on my breathing, slowly trying to push myself up off the ground. “And you? Was your meter hitting 99% fake too?” I stood up, my gaze locking onto Ethan as if trying to pierce straight through his skull. He was a completely different person than he was ten years ago. When I first met Ethan, he was an unacknowledged, illegitimate son. Banished by the Hayes family to a rotting, dilapidated apartment, completely broke. When his landlord evicted him, he huddled under a crumbling awning to escape the freezing rain. He was completely soaked, shivering uncontrollably. Until I stopped, and held my umbrella over his head… No matter how much I wanted to deny it now, the truth was, I had given Ethan my entire, uncorrupted heart. 3 My final, defining memory of Ethan Hayes was his affection meter rocketing to 99%, only to instantly, violently plummet to zero. And his bloodshot, furious eyes, his jaw clenched in absolute rage. “You lied to me? I will never, ever forgive you!” The memory perfectly overlapped with the man standing in front of me now. His breathing grew heavy. My single question had completely shattered his arrogant, detached composure. He stepped aggressively toward me, his voice sharp and defensive: “You actually have the nerve to bring up the past?” His gaze swept over the other men standing around us. “How does it feel? Realizing that every single one of your ‘targets’ was just treating you like a pathetic joke?” “Watching you play the desperate, obedient dog, completely stripping away your own dignity… it was incredibly entertaining.” Ethan was standing inches from my face. His eyes were glued to me. As if he was trying to dissect every single micro-expression on my face. But entirely contrary to his expectations, my expression remained perfectly, chillingly calm. No rage. No heartbreak. I just offered him a faint, hollow smile: “That’s great. As long as you found it entertaining.” “You’re the groom tonight. Don’t waste your valuable time talking to me.” Looking past him, I saw the massive, sprawling sea of floral arrangements. Every single detail of the decor was exactly what Ethan and I had designed together years ago. Honestly, the second I arrived at the venue, I knew exactly whose engagement party this was. Seeing me turn around to walk away, the atmosphere in the courtyard violently stalled. Suddenly, a massive, shattering crash echoed behind me. Ethan’s fiancée had tripped over the trailing tablecloth of the champagne tower. A ten-tier pyramid of crystal glasses violently collapsed onto the marble floor. I was far too familiar with this exact scenario. Except normally, Ethan would yank me backward by my hair, and he would aggressively throw himself in front of his fiancée to act as a human shield. In a fraction of a second, a suit jacket was thrown directly over my head, blocking my vision. But the jagged shards of exploding crystal still rained down on me, cutting into my skin like glass raindrops. The sharp, stinging pain instantly sent a rush of adrenaline through my veins. I excitedly yelled for the System in my head: [System! Can you manipulate the physics engine?! Make a shard slice my jugular! Let’s just end this right now!] [Uhhh… hold on, let me check the developer console.] Before the System could even execute a command, the owner of the suit jacket—Ethan—suddenly started screaming in absolute panic: “Olivia! Hurry! Call an ambulance!” He dropped to his knees on the glass-covered marble, clutching his fiancée, who had suffered a few minor scratches. In his chaotic panic, he glanced over and saw me standing next to the jacket he had thrown. A cruel, mocking smirk twisted his lips: “I must be losing my mind. I forgot you have a System. No matter how much damage you take, you just keep coming back like a cockroach.” “Hey! Grab her and throw her in the ambulance! She can donate blood to Olivia!” I was treated like a broken, bleeding ragdoll. My arms and legs were covered in glass lacerations and bleeding puncture wounds, but I was aggressively shoved into the back of a black SUV. My entire body was screaming in pain. But I couldn’t stop myself from smiling a bright, euphoric smile. I sat obediently in the hospital chair, letting the nurses prep me for a transfusion. Through the glass partition, I stared at Ethan’s cold, sociopathic face. “Her blood type is a perfect match for Olivia. Olivia’s immune system is fragile, she needs it. As for her,” He sneered, pointing at me, his voice dripping with venom, “Even if you drain every single drop of blood out of her body, she’ll be fine. She literally cannot die.” I closed my eyes, suppressing the ecstatic thrill bubbling in my chest: [System, did you hear that?! He’s actually going to torture me! Are we finally going to hit the death quota?!] Watching the nurse connect the IV line, I couldn’t help but offer a helpful reminder: “Take as much as you need. I’ll be totally fine. Saving her life is the priority.” The nurse froze, shooting me a deeply complex, disturbed look, but her hands didn’t stop moving: “Ms. Quinn only suffered minor lacerations. A standard 300cc donation will be more than enough.” I blinked, completely confused. Realizing that the doctors in this ‘game world’ were actually functioning rationally, and the hyper-dramatic, torturous scenario I needed wasn’t happening, I frantically called the System for backup. [Don’t worry! I just hacked the medical equipment!] [You’re a lifesaver!] I lay back and relaxed. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the doctor noticed I was turning terrifyingly pale and realized something was catastrophically wrong. “What’s happening? The transfusion pump is malfunctioning! It won’t shut off!” Massive blood loss triggers dizziness, severe palpitations, and cognitive failure. “Ethan, what the fuck are you doing?! Are you trying to kill her?!” “Hey, Ethan! I haven’t even gotten a turn with her yet! Give me a chance, I actually kind of like her.” “Shut the fuck up!” Wow, did the whole boyband show up for this? I didn’t have the energy to think about it. The voices around me were fading into a distant, muffled hum. I closed my eyes, feeling completely, utterly satisfied. 4 I opened my eyes. Directly above me was a stark, blindingly white ceiling. Did I die? Did we respawn in a new world? I blinked, my eyes adjusting to the light. The moment my gaze landed on the man sitting next to the bed, I almost choked on my own spit. “I told you, there’s no way a roach like her would actually die.” “No matter what happens, she has her little System running damage control for her.” Ethan was leaning against the doorframe, aggressively running a hand through his hair in deep frustration. “My engagement party was completely ruined because of this.” “Carter. Lower her affection meter.” Carter, who was sitting casually on the edge of my hospital bed, shot me a mocking smirk: “If I lower it any further, it’s going into the negatives. How about this? Beg me, and I’ll graciously add a point back.” I rolled my eyes and didn’t even bother responding. Julian waved his hand, and two nurses immediately stepped forward, preparing to force-feed me. “Whatever, since she clearly can’t be killed, she can stick around and keep us entertained.” “Maya, be a good girl and eat. As soon as you’re done, we have to go watch Ethan officially tie the knot.” I closed my eyes, utterly devoid of the will to live. On the drive to the rescheduled engagement venue, Ethan and his fiancée rode in the same luxury SUV as me. His fiancée lay limply against his chest, acting as if she had no bones. Every time she slightly moved her arm and ‘aggravated’ a minor scratch, she would whimper and demand to be comforted. I stared out the window, completely deadpan. Ethan, if you guys want to be disgustingly affectionate, fine. But can you please stop shooting daggers at me with your eyes? One look was filled with aggressive, volatile resentment. The other was shooting me pathetic, puppy-dog glances, occasionally flashing a look of smug, victorious pride. I stared at them, my brain processing the dynamic, and casually dropped a bomb: “The diamond on that engagement ring is incredibly small.” “Compared to the one you gave me back in the day, this one is basically microscopic.” Ethan’s face instantly turned black as thunder. His fiancée, whose big, doe-like eyes were suddenly filled with tears, looked up at him. He ground his teeth in fury. “Maya, open your fucking eyes and look closely. This is a custom piece from Italy. Olivia and I designed it ourselves. It’s worth three million dollars.” “People get the jewelry they deserve. In case you didn’t know, the ring I gave you back then was a cheap, cubic zirconia knockoff.” “Ethan, it’s okay. I understand why she’s acting like this. After all, you two share such a… complicated history…” His fiancée wiped a tear from her cheek and pulled the ring off her finger, clutching it in her hand. “I’ll just wear it later. I don’t want her to feel bad.” “Maya!” Ethan’s voice was dark and threatening, his eyes locking onto me like a sniper scope. I stared back at him, my eyes shining with eager anticipation. Come on, what’s the new torture method? Can you just skip the drama and kill me instantly? And then, Ethan rolled the window down and violently hurled the three-million-dollar diamond ring out into the street. “The engagement party starts in exactly one hour. Get out and find the ring. If you don’t bring it back, your little ‘mission’ here is permanently over.” He smirked at me right before ordering the driver to kick me out of the moving car. Carter’s sports car pulled up right behind me. “Aww, poor thing. Let me bump your meter up by two points.” Carter rolled his window down, smiling brightly at me. “That pair of rings cost Ethan a massive amount of genuine emotional effort. Not like the cheap garbage he bought to string you along.” I stood frozen in the middle of a massive, multi-lane highway. Cars were tearing past me at 70 miles an hour. Furious drivers were already honking and screaming out their windows at me: “Are you fucking psychotic?! Do you want to die?!” I enthusiastically waved back at them: “Yes! Yes, I literally do! Can someone please help me out?!” “Maya?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” Julian sprinted through the traffic, grabbed my arm, and violently yanked me onto the shoulder of the highway. “Ethan threw the ring into the grass median! Are you blind?! Why the hell are you running into the middle of the highway?!” He aggressively rubbed his temples, his voice heavy with deep, genuine exhaustion. “Maya, the game is over. Stop pulling these pathetic, low-class stunts. It’s just exhausting to watch.” “Put your little tricks away. If you get on your knees and beg me, maybe I’ll actually take pity on you and give you a chance to stay by my side.” I didn’t hear a single word he said. I just kept nodding blankly, my heart hammering a million miles a minute. Because the System was currently screaming in my brain: [I’m out of patience! I activated the developer cheats! An out-of-control semi-truck is exactly 600 feet away and closing fast! Host, brace yourself, this is an absolute guaranteed kill!] Using the absolute last shred of my patience, I waited for Julian to turn his back to look for the ring in the grass. I gathered the hem of my dress, spun around, and sprinted directly into the oncoming traffic. The massive grill of the semi-truck expanded violently in my vision. And then, it slammed into me. My entire body felt like it was put through a meat grinder. An apocalyptic wave of agony crashed over me. But my heart was racing with uncontrollable euphoria. [Preparing for consciousness extraction…] The countdown echoed in my ears. Finally! It’s finally over!

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “570831”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

I was known in our circles as the most cost-effective sugar baby on the market. While other girls demanded tens of thousands a month for living expenses, I would just text my sugar daddy a link to a $14.99 UberEats group order. While other girls dragged their benefactors to Rodeo Drive to buy designer bags, I took my billionaire heir to the flea market to haggle for a 3-for-$49.99 t-shirt bundle. Eventually, the billionaire heir couldn’t take it anymore. He asked if I could please ask for something a little more expensive. I summoned all my courage, looked at him meekly, and asked: “Could you buy me a Schwinn?” Liam Hayes looked completely bewildered. “A what? Is that a German sports car?” I stared at him blankly. “No… it’s a bicycle brand…” Maybe it was because I was so incredibly low-maintenance, but Liam inexplicably developed genuine feelings for me. He upgraded me from “sugar baby” to “girlfriend.” I even heard through the grapevine that he was secretly ring shopping. That is, until today, when his first love flew back to the States. The moment her plane landed, she stormed aggressively into my office, screaming at the top of her lungs: “Where’s the homewrecker?! Who is Chloe Evans?! Get out here right now!” “You shameless gold digger! You leeched off him for a car, a house, and millions in cash! You bit off way more than you can chew, and today you’re going to spit every last cent of it back out!” I stood there stunned for a solid minute. Then, I pulled out my bicycle lock key and the key to my tiny, run-down studio apartment, looking at her in utter confusion. “This is all of it right here. Oh, I also have the UberEats I ordered for lunch today. Do you want me to throw that up for you too?” … Audrey Sinclair snatched the keys out of my hand with a vicious sneer. “Let’s see exactly what kind of luxury car you managed to leech out of him.” She stared at the branding on the bike lock key, flipping it over and over. “What brand is this?” My coworkers gathered around to look, letting out surprised gasps. “Wait, why does that key look exactly like my bike lock? What kind of luxury car rips off a bicycle lock design?” “Isn’t that a Kryptonite lock key? I use the exact same one for my commuter bike.” Audrey’s face stiffened. She glared at me furiously: “Chloe Evans! Are you screwing with me?! There is no way Liam would buy you something this pathetic!” Hearing that, I got a little defensive and argued back: “How is it pathetic?! This bike cost me three hundred dollars! It’s the newest model, it’s pink, and it even has a quick-release tire. It’s very advanced!” Audrey clearly didn’t believe a word I was saying. The anger in her eyes flared even hotter as she held up the other, worn-out brass key. “And what about this piece of junk?! Are you going to tell me this is the key to the mansion Liam bought you?!” As she said that, something seemed to click in her brain, and she shrieked accusingly: “Did Liam buy you a luxury penthouse downtown?!” The moment she said that, the entire office gasped. Everyone stared at me with eyes full of envy and jealousy. “A downtown penthouse? Those go for at least a few million, right? Chloe always acts like such an innocent little bunny, I had no idea she had such a massive appetite.” “Well, she is a gold digger after all. If she doesn’t squeeze him for every penny now, what’s she going to do when he dumps her? Starve?” “Looks like her scheming was useless anyway. The real fiancée is here, and she’s going to have to cough it all back up!” The whispers around me quickly turned into malicious, gloating sneers. I just let out a confused “Ah,” and answered honestly: “We actually did go look at a penthouse downtown, but Liam thought it lacked privacy, so he didn’t rent it.” “Later, I took him to an old, run-down apartment complex on the east side of town, and he reluctantly agreed to that one. Oh, by the way, that key belongs to the landlord, you can’t take it. I need to give it back to get my security deposit.” I reached my hand out toward her, adding reluctantly: “You… you can take the bike… but my helmet and my reflective vest are still on it, you have to give those back to me.” The degrading insults Audrey had lined up died in her throat. Her face was dark as thunder. Her razor-sharp gaze swept over my desk, and she suddenly let out a cold laugh. She marched over, snatched up my purse, and shrieked: “You little bitch, you’re still trying to play the victim?! Look at this bag! A two-thousand-dollar Miu Miu! Liam bought this for you, didn’t he?!” “If he’s buying you designer bags, you honestly expect me to believe he only bought you a bicycle and rented you a slum?!” As she yelled, she viciously dumped the contents of my purse out onto my desk. Amidst the scattered lip balm and pens, a small, square foil packet tumbled out. Audrey saw it immediately. She pinched the condom packet between two manicured fingers, looking at it with absolute disgust. “Chloe Evans, are you a literal prostitute? Are you constantly in heat? You actually carry these around in your purse?” The moment the words left her mouth, the office erupted in mocking laughter. “Plays the innocent virgin in front of us, but acts like a total slut behind closed doors. Classic gold digger.” “Duh, how else do you think she seduced the billionaire heir into buying her bags and houses if she wasn’t putting out?” A few of my coworkers even pulled out their phones, shoving the cameras in my face to film the foil packet and my reaction. I tried to block the cameras with my hands, but there were too many angles. Resigned, I let out a heavy sigh, pointed at the logo on the bag, and said: “But the brand on that bag isn’t Miu Miu, it’s Min Min! It only cost $19.99 on Amazon. It’s a much better deal than the one you’re talking about.” I snatched the foil packet out of her hand. Right in front of everyone, I tore it open. As the entire office gasped, expecting scandal, I pulled out two clear, disposable plastic gloves. “The deli down the street gave me extra gloves with my sandwich, so I put them in my bag. I can use them when I clean at home, I didn’t want to waste them…” A bizarre, suffocating silence fell over the office. After a long pause, someone finally voiced their doubt: “Did she… corner the wrong person?” Seeing her intimidating aura rapidly deflating, Audrey forcefully threw the bag back at me, relentless. “Chloe Evans, do you have any idea who I am?! I am Liam Hayes’ fiancée! I am the heiress to the Sinclair family! Do you really think playing poor is going to get you out of this?!” “With one phone call, I can pull the financial records of every single asset in your name.” My eyes went wide, and I frantically waved my hands. “No, no, please don’t do that…” Audrey smirked triumphantly. “Now you’re scared? If you know what’s good for you, return all the money, and obediently get the hell out of Liam’s life!” I pulled out my phone, opened my banking app, scratched my head, and said: “I mean, there’s no need to bother someone else with a phone call, I can just show you right now…” My phone screen displayed three accounts: Chase Checking Balance: $50.20 Bank of America Savings: $513.00 Wells Fargo Checking: $367.00 2 Several of my coworkers leaned in to squint at my phone screen. They muttered in disbelief: “Is that my bank account? How did my balance get on your phone?” “Seriously, do you even know how to be a gold digger? Can I tap in and take over your shift?” Audrey’s face was an ugly shade of red. I locked my phone screen and looked at her awkwardly. “That’s it. I only have those three bank accounts. All my money is right there.” “But that money is what’s left of my paycheck from last month. Liam didn’t give it to me. It’s money I earned myself, so I don’t have to give it to you, right?” Audrey ground her teeth, her jaw muscles clenching tightly. She desperately wanted to attack me, but had absolutely no idea what angle to use anymore. Just then, our manager, drawn by the commotion, sprinted out of his office and barked: “We are on the clock! What is all this screaming about?!” Audrey cast a disdainful glance at him, her posture dripping with arrogance. “Are you Chloe Evans’ boss? Are you aware that your employee is a homewrecker having an affair with a taken man?” The manager froze, visibly confused. “Isn’t Chloe dating Mr. Hayes…?” Audrey’s eyes narrowed dangerously, cutting him off: “I am Liam’s fiancée. Do you honestly think a country bumpkin like her is worthy of Liam Hayes?” The manager cautiously evaluated Audrey. Seeing her expensive designer clothes and commanding aura, he rubbed his hands together nervously and asked: “May I ask which prominent family you belong to, Miss?” “The Sinclair family!” Audrey declared proudly. That single sentence instantly turned the manager into a groveling sycophant. “Miss Sinclair! I am so sorry, I failed to recognize you!” Audrey shot me a withering look and said coldly: “I’ll leave it up to you to decide how to handle her.” The manager bowed and scraped. “Having an employee with such compromised morals is entirely my failure as a manager. I will terminate Chloe Evans immediately.” “Chloe, pack your things and get out.” I stared at him blankly, feeling conflicted. “Payday is in three days. Can I wait until I get my paycheck and then leave?” “Absolutely not!” The manager’s tone was ironclad. I offered a deeply disappointed look. “Then since the company is terminating me without cause, you have to pay me the standard severance package…” The manager glared at me furiously. “In your dreams! If it wasn’t for Mr. Hayes pulling strings, you never would have been hired here in the first place!” “Furthermore, Miss Sinclair is being incredibly gracious by not pursuing legal action against you, and you have the nerve to ask for severance?!” Hearing that, I let out a heavy sigh. “Fine. I’ll leave.” The smug expression on Audrey’s face faltered. “That’s it?” I nodded. “The manager makes a very compelling argument. I honestly couldn’t find a flaw in his logic.” I was telling the truth. Liam really had pulled strings to get me this admin job, so I was technically in the wrong. But Audrey wasn’t satisfied. She stared unblinkingly into my eyes, as if waiting for a specific reaction. I looked back at her, confused. “Is there something on my face?” Suddenly, Audrey raised her hand and delivered a vicious, stinging slap across my cheek. She hit me with everything she had, intentionally dragging her manicured nails across my skin. Within seconds, raw, bloody scratches and a raised red handprint bloomed across my face. She smiled, completely satisfied. “Now there is. Slapping you is getting off easy for a homewrecker like you.” I held my burning cheek. It hurt a lot. I wanted to cry, but I figured crying wouldn’t solve anything, and it would just be embarrassing. I sniffled, refused to look at Audrey again, and quietly turned around to pack up my desk. Right at that moment, my phone buzzed. It was an iMessage from Liam: [Baby, I miss you so much. Do you miss me?] [I’m flying back in two days. Be a good girl and wait for me.] I looked at the message, thought about Audrey standing right behind me, and instantly concluded that Liam had texted the wrong person. I curled my lip and ignored it. By the time I finished packing and walked out of the building, Audrey was already gone. Thankfully, she didn’t actually take my bicycle, which improved my mood significantly. I happily hopped onto the bike seat. Just as I was about to pedal away, my phone buzzed again. It was another text from Liam: [Chloe baby, why are you ignoring me?] [Pay attention to me, pay attention to me, pay attention to me, pay attention to me…] I stared at the screen flooded with “pay attention to me,” and the specific spelling of my name. That’s when I realized Liam hadn’t texted the wrong person. I had no idea what game he was playing, and I felt a sharp pang of injustice. Fueled by resentment, I texted back: [You literally have a fiancée, why are you texting me?] The ‘typing…’ bubble appeared for three agonizing seconds before he replied in utter disbelief: [What fiancée?! My only fiancée is you!] 3 I was completely confused. Just as I was about to type a follow-up question… My phone flashed a 1% battery warning and ruthlessly powered down, leaving me with a black screen. Defeated, I shoved the dead phone into my backpack, figuring I’d deal with it when I got home. Riding my bike from downtown back toward my neighborhood on the east side, I happened to spot a ‘Help Wanted’ sign in the window of a bustling diner. The sign advertised free shift meals, and the starting pay was $15 an hour plus tips. Back when I had to drop out of community college to pay for my grandmother’s medical bills, I never managed to find a job that paid that well. I pulled my bike over and excitedly ran inside. When the owner heard I was there to apply, he looked surprised. “Listen, kid, are you sure you want to waitress here? The shifts are long, and it’s physically demanding work.” I nodded without a second thought. “I’m not afraid of hard work.” After Liam started taking care of me… Aside from my grandmother’s medical bills, I never asked for luxury items like the other girls in my position did. Because my grandmother always told me: ‘Never get a taste for a lifestyle that isn’t yours. Because once you do, you’ll never be able to swallow your own reality again.’ I always remembered those words. Even now, that principle was what kept me grounded. Seeing my genuine enthusiasm, the owner hesitated for a moment before agreeing to let me do a trial shift the next day. I thanked him profusely, practically humming a tune as I pedaled the rest of the way home. I still had my bike, my apartment, and now I had a new job lined up. In my book, today was still a pretty successful day. As for the complicated mess with Liam… because it was too overwhelming, my brain automatically filed it away in the “deal with it later” folder. The next day, I arrived for my shift right on time. I had waitress experience, so I picked up the routine quickly. Once the lunch rush died down, the owner’s wife patted me on the shoulder and praised me: “You’re a hard worker, kid! You’ve got the job.” Her encouragement made me work even harder. Until around 7:00 PM, when a group of people suddenly walked into the diner. Leading the pack was Audrey. She was flanked by several impeccably dressed men and women. When she saw me, Audrey let out a condescending scoff. “Chloe Evans, you really are manipulative. You specifically sought out a filthy, degrading job like this just so you can play the victim and make Liam feel sorry for you?” I stood there holding a tray, completely bewildered. “Is this job filthy? I mop the floors every hour.” I pointed to the health inspection certificate framed on the wall. “Look, an ‘A’ grade from the health department. That means excellent. Our diner isn’t filthy at all.” Audrey choked on her words, glaring at me furiously. “Stop playing dumb! You’re just doing this to try and seduce Liam.” I sighed in exasperation. “What’s the point of seducing him? I can’t eat him for dinner. Earning a paycheck is way more important.” One of the guys standing behind Audrey tugged on her arm, sneering: “Audrey, don’t waste your breath arguing with an idiot. We have plenty of ways to teach her a lesson later!” She let out a cold laugh, walked over to a booth with her friends, and tipped her chin up at me arrogantly. “We’re ready to order!” I obediently walked over with my notepad to take their order. During the process, they didn’t try to cause any trouble. It wasn’t until about ten minutes later. I walked out of the kitchen carrying a massive, steaming bowl of hot and sour soup. Just as I approached their table, Audrey suddenly stuck her foot out into the aisle. I tripped over her leg, and the entire bowl of scalding soup crashed to the floor along with me. The vast majority of the boiling broth splashed directly onto my arms. A small fraction of it splattered onto the hem of Audrey’s dress. Before I could even scream in pain, Audrey leaped out of the booth, shrieking at the top of her lungs: “Are you blind?! Do you have any idea how expensive this dress is?! You’re so clumsy you can’t even carry a bowl of soup, you deserve to starve to death on the street!” The diner owner and his wife rushed out of the kitchen upon hearing the crash, apologizing profusely. “Miss, we are so incredibly sorry! We’ll pay to have the dress dry-cleaned immediately, the bill is entirely on us.” Audrey’s fury didn’t diminish. “Dry-cleaned?! This fabric will be ruined if it goes to a dry cleaner! You have to buy me a brand new one!” “How much is it?” the owner’s wife asked cautiously. Audrey glared down her nose at them, scoffing. “This is a custom designer piece. It costs fifteen thousand dollars!” “Fifteen thousand dollars?!” The owner’s wife swayed on her feet, looking like she was about to faint. Seeing this, I gritted my teeth against the searing pain in my arms, forced myself to stand up, and said shakily: “I’ll pay for it… I just need you to give me some time…” One of Audrey’s friends heard me and sneered. “Give you time? So you can run crying to Liam and beg him for the money?” “You pay for it right now!” I thought about the balance in my checking account, biting my lip. “I don’t have that much cash right now, but I can set up a payment plan with you.” Seeing me cornered, Audrey put on an act of benevolent mercy. “There is one other way. You don’t have to pay me a dime.” “Right here, right now, you get down on your knees, and I’ll start a livestream. You confess to the camera that you only approached Liam for his money. You tell everyone that you don’t love him at all, and that you’re just a shameless, gold-digging whore. Deal?” The moment she finished speaking, one of her friends dutifully pulled out his phone, opened Instagram Live, and pointed the camera directly at my face. The group of them laughed and jeered, pressuring me: “Hurry up and get on your knees! Stop pretending to be a saint, everyone already knows it’s the truth!” “Fifteen grand? A girl like you would have to sleep with a dozen guys to earn that kind of cash. Now all you have to do is drop to your knees. It’s a bargain.” My hands balled into tight fists. Honestly, kneeling down to erase a fifteen-thousand-dollar debt wasn’t a big deal to me. But for some reason, I felt a deep, heavy sadness in my chest, and my knees completely refused to bend. As we stood locked in a standoff… Audrey’s friend holding the phone suddenly gasped. “Holy shit, Liam Hayes just joined the livestream!” “He said…” “If anyone dares to make Chloe Evans kneel, he will personally bankrupt their entire family…” 4 I froze. Only then did I remember the man I had completely forgotten about since yesterday. Looking into the camera lens, I was just about to ask for help… When Audrey let out a harsh, mocking laugh. “Are you an idiot? You actually believe that? Liam is literally on a business trip in Europe right now. You think he has time to sit around watching Instagram Live?” “Chloe Evans, did you hire someone to use a burner account?” I frowned, defending myself: “I haven’t touched my phone this entire time. How could I have coordinated that?” Audrey, however, looked at me with absolute, sneering certainty. “Girls like you, the professional gold diggers, you all have networks, right? Don’t they have actual bootcamps now that teach you exactly how to manipulate rich men?” “I’m betting you’re one of their star pupils.” I honestly couldn’t understand a single word she was saying. I just looked at her, utterly bewildered, and asked: “Why would I need to learn any of that… I didn’t even do anything to Liam…” The reality was, on my very first day working at the exclusive country club, Liam had walked in and immediately taken me away with him. The only thing I ever actually did for him was pour him a single glass of bourbon. So I was genuinely lost as to what Audrey was implying. But my innocent confusion completely enraged her. The next second, her hand flew toward my face for another slap. I dodged to the side, but my severely burned arms slammed hard against the edge of a table. The agony sent a cold, violent sweat breaking out across my back. Audrey clearly had no intention of letting me go. She gestured to her friends, and they all stood up, slowly advancing toward me like a pack of wolves. “What kind of trash do you think you are, trying to show off in front of me?” “Looks like the slap yesterday didn’t teach you your lesson…” Following her malicious cue, two of her friends lunged forward, each grabbing one of my arms in a vice grip. They squeezed directly onto my burns, and I screamed in excruciating pain. But they weren’t satisfied. They dragged me forward, forcing me toward the pile of shattered ceramic bowls on the floor. “You cheap piece of trash, you don’t know your place! Get on your knees!” The owner’s wife couldn’t bear to watch and stepped forward to intervene. “Please, calm down, let’s not let this escalate into an assault…” But her husband grabbed her arm and dragged her backward, shaking his head frantically. “Just look at them, they’re clearly wealthy and connected. We can’t afford to get involved with people like that…” The very last person willing to help me backed away. They forced me downward, pushing me toward a deep, hopeless abyss. Just a fraction of a second before my knees were about to smash into the jagged porcelain shards… The heavy diner door was violently shoved open. Liam stood in the doorway. He looked exhausted from traveling, but his face was twisted into an expression of absolute, terrifying fury. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO TOUCH HER! Are you all illiterate?!”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “570830”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel

As the absolute only living practitioner of ancient, esoteric holistic medicine in the world… My medical skills were so legendary, so incredibly effective, that even getting a full night’s sleep was an absolute luxury. I was completely exhausted by the relentless, chaotic bidding wars. I was treated like a living miracle worker by global elites, politicians, and billionaires desperate to outbid each other for my time. So, when my biological parents finally managed to track me down, I made a swift, tactical decision to protect my peace: I faked being mute. I genuinely thought I was signing up for a toxic, melodramatic reality show. You know the trope: the wealthy family, the biological daughter returning home, and the adopted, “fake” daughter engaging in a vicious, backstabbing war for dominance. But shockingly, my adopted sister was incredibly gentle and kind-hearted, and my parents never played favorites. My seven older brothers absolutely worshipped the ground I walked on, treating their “disabled” little sister like absolute royalty. I didn’t have to diagnose anyone. I didn’t have to perform any miraculous, exhausting procedures. My only daily responsibility was to literally breathe and enjoy a life of absolute luxury. This soulless, lazy, useless lifestyle was an absolute dream come true! That was, until today. Eight massive, international oligopolies orchestrated a brutal, coordinated attack. My father’s century-old corporate empire was systematically annihilated overnight. Hundreds of billions in corporate assets were frozen across international borders, and our four publicly traded companies were maliciously halted on the stock exchange. The heir to one of those oligopolies swaggered into our living room, threw himself onto our sofa, and tossed a legal document onto the floor: “One dollar. That buys out every single share your family owns. Otherwise, tomorrow morning, I expect to see every single member of the Sterling family dead.” 1 As the absolute only living practitioner of ancient, esoteric holistic medicine in the world… My medical skills were so legendary, so incredibly effective, that even getting a full night’s sleep was an absolute luxury. I was completely exhausted by the relentless, chaotic bidding wars. I was treated like a living miracle worker by global elites, politicians, and billionaires desperate to outbid each other for my time. So, when my biological parents finally managed to track me down, I made a swift, tactical decision to protect my peace: I faked being mute. I genuinely thought I was signing up for a toxic, melodramatic reality show. You know the trope: the wealthy family, the biological daughter returning home, and the adopted, “fake” daughter engaging in a vicious, backstabbing war for dominance. But shockingly, my adopted sister was incredibly gentle and kind-hearted, and my parents never played favorites. My seven older brothers absolutely worshipped the ground I walked on, treating their “disabled” little sister like absolute royalty. I didn’t have to diagnose anyone. I didn’t have to perform any miraculous, exhausting procedures. My only daily responsibility was to literally breathe and enjoy a life of absolute luxury. This soulless, lazy, useless lifestyle was an absolute dream come true! That was, until today. Eight massive, international oligopolies orchestrated a brutal, coordinated attack. My father’s century-old corporate empire was systematically annihilated overnight. Hundreds of billions in corporate assets were frozen across international borders, and our four publicly traded companies were maliciously halted on the stock exchange. The heir to one of those oligopolies swaggered into our living room, threw himself onto our sofa, and tossed a legal document onto the floor: “One dollar. That buys out every single share your family owns. Otherwise, tomorrow morning, I expect to see every single member of the Sterling family dead.” He offered a faint, chilling smile, his eyes locking onto my adopted sister, Chloe, who was trembling in terror. “Oh, except for her. Leave her alive. She’ll be a fun little toy for me.” My parents’ eyes were red with absolute despair. My seven brothers instantly formed a human wall, fiercely shielding me and my sister behind them. I paused, holding a bowl of expensive bird’s nest soup, completely bewildered. Are you kidding me? How am I supposed to keep living my lazy, trust-fund baby lifestyle if you kill my family? I gently pushed past my oldest brother, who was blocking me, and slowly ambled to the front of the room. For the first time in three years, I used my voice. I spoke in flawless, unaccented French. “Go back and ask your grandfather, old man DuPont. Three years ago in Switzerland, I embedded a single golden acupuncture needle directly over his heart to keep him alive. Tell me, is it working well?” “And tell him… the three-year contract has officially expired. I am preparing to pull the needle.” … “Have you made your decision, my beautiful lady?” William DuPont’s ice-blue eyes swept warmly, predatorily, over my adopted sister, Chloe. “Accompany me back to Europe for a little vacation. In exchange, I’ll spare the lives of your entire family.” “It is an incredibly generous transaction, don’t you think?” My hot-headed second brother, Connor, exploded in absolute rage. “Bullshit! William, don’t you fucking dare push us!” He violently tried to lunge forward out of his chair. But two massive bodyguards immediately slammed him back down, pinning him so hard he couldn’t move an inch. William didn’t even blink. He cast a look of absolute, arrogant contempt at my brother’s bloodshot eyes. Then, he turned, smiling gracefully, and took a step toward Chloe. Chloe was shaking uncontrollably, absolutely terrified. But the very next second. She silently, instinctively, took a half-step sideways, shifting her body to completely block me from his line of sight. I was sitting in the shadows of the corner. Quietly observing the girl standing fiercely in front of me. Honestly, before the Sterling family managed to track me down… I had just successfully faked my own death to escape my secluded mountain clinic. As the absolute only holistic master in the world who possessed the knowledge of the Nine-Turn Golden Needle technique. I was relentlessly, obsessively hunted by the global elite. Every day, a different billionaire or politician sent a private jet to drag me to a hospital bed. I literally did not have the time to sleep a full eight hours. Desperate for peace, I leveraged the power of an underworld boss whose life I had saved. I snuck off the mountain, fabricated an entirely new identity, and vanished. My plan was to lay low, act like a complete nobody, and enjoy a few months of absolute laziness. But the very first day I stepped into the city, the Sterling family intercepted me at a boba shop. Chloe was the first one to rush forward. She threw her arms around me, sobbing hysterically, apologizing over and over again. I stared at her, the hairs on the back of my neck standing straight up. Because living on that isolated mountain meant I had a lot of free time. I had read hundreds of trashy, dramatic novels about biological daughters returning to wealthy families. The biased parents, the manipulative, two-faced adopted sister. And the seven blindly loyal brothers who hate the new girl. It was the absolute textbook setup for a brutal, dramatic family war. And I had walked right into it. To preemptively defend myself against being framed or sabotaged. I immediately, definitively, decided to fake being mute. The absolute second this “fake” sister tried anything toxic, I was fully prepared to hit a pressure point and paralyze her vocal cords. But I was completely, utterly wrong. None of those psychotic, dramatic novel tropes happened. The entire Sterling family possessed a moral compass that was absurdly, impeccably pure. When they realized I was “unable” to speak. My parents looked at me with nothing but bottomless heartbreak and absolute, overwhelming guilt. Chloe, the adopted sister, was the very first person in the house to master sign language just so she could talk to me. And my seven brothers? None of them were blind or stupid. Every single day, they competed to find new, extravagant ways to spoil me. Being treated like the absolute, unquestioned center of the universe by an entire family. It was glorious! I never had to wake up at 3 AM to board a helicopter because some billionaire was having a stroke. I never had to work myself to the bone diagnosing patients. I was incredibly, ecstatically happy playing the role of the useless, mute little sister. Until this exact moment. My perfect, peaceful life was being violently disrupted. William looked at my father, who was staring back with absolute, devastated despair. William let out a soft, mocking chuckle. “Mr. Sterling, you didn’t genuinely believe I was a patient, reasonable man, did you?” “You have consistently, aggressively challenged Western capital markets. My grandfather has been deeply displeased with you for a very long time.” “Our alliance of eight European oligopolies executed this massive short-sell specifically to teach you a lesson.” He casually, elegantly strolled directly in front of my father. “And the reason I personally flew all this way.” “Was simply to watch the great ‘Pride of the Asian Markets’ turn on each other like animals, tearing their own family apart, right in front of us European aristocrats!” Chloe, using the cover of her body, hid her hands behind her back. With violently trembling fingers, she frantically signed to me: [Sister, run! Go upstairs! Hide!] My hand, holding the delicate bowl of bird’s nest soup, paused for a fraction of a second. The silver spoon accidentally tapped against the porcelain rim. It made a tiny, sharp clink. William’s head snapped toward the sound. His gaze swept right past Chloe’s narrow, trembling shoulders. And locked directly onto me, sitting quietly in the shadows. He froze for a second. And then, as if he had just discovered the most exquisite, fascinating new toy… His eyes lit up brilliantly, and he burst into loud, cruel laughter: “Oh, look at this! You even have a pathetic little mute hiding in the corner!” 2 William scanned me from head to toe, a twisted, excited thrill illuminating his aristocratic, handsome features. “What a delightful, unexpected bonus.” He started walking directly toward me. “Don’t touch her!” My father, Arthur Sterling, let out an agonizing, desperate roar. My seven brothers’ eyes turned bloodshot. They thrashed violently against the bodyguards, desperately trying to break free and attack him. But they were ruthlessly pinned down. My mother suddenly lunged forward, throwing herself in front of William, dropping heavily to her knees. She wept, her voice trembling in absolute terror: “Mr. DuPont, I am begging you. My two daughters are still so young…” William looked annoyed. He brutally kicked my mother aside without a second thought. Suddenly, Chloe lunged forward like a madwoman. She threw her arms wide open, forming a human shield directly in front of me. “I’ll go with you!” Her voice was thick, choking with desperate, hysterical tears. “I will go back to Europe with you.” “Let my family go.” “Let my sister go!” William stopped walking. The cruel, amused smirk on his lips deepened. He turned his head slowly, clearly enjoying the show. My father’s eyes were blood-red. He roared with a broken, devastating fury: “Chloe! Step back right now!” “The men in the Sterling family are not dead yet!” “We do not need a little girl throwing her life away to protect us!” My mother was sobbing uncontrollably, desperately grabbing at Chloe’s arm, trying to pull her back. But Chloe slowly, gently, pried my mother’s fingers off her arm, one by one. She turned her head, looking at our parents, the tears absolutely pouring down her face. “Dad. Mom. I’m so sorry.” “I was never the biological daughter of the Sterling family.” “I occupied my sister’s place for over a decade. I stole over a decade of love that belonged to her.” “I should have given my life back to this family a long time ago.” I stared at her narrow, trembling back. A cold, heavily guarded corner deep inside my chest felt as if it had been hit with a sledgehammer. Three years ago, on my very first night back in the Sterling house. Chloe had stood in my doorway, her eyes red and puffy. Using clumsy, deeply earnest sign language, she communicated with me. “Sister. I’m sorry.” “I am going to protect you with my life.” For three years, she had absolutely, unquestionably kept that promise. Even if someone in our social circle dared to make a single, passive-aggressive comment about me being mute. She would instantly explode, stepping in front of me like a furious, territorial cat. Just like she was doing right now. Clap! Clap! Clap! William threw his head back, laughing arrogantly as he began to applaud. “Incredible!” “Absolutely heartwarming!” William turned to look at my father. “Look at this magnificent display of familial love.” “Since you’re all so devoted, I’ve changed my mind. I’ll take both of the girls back to Europe. I’ll keep them locked in the dog kennels at my estate.” “Watching that little mute desperately trying to sign for help… it’s going to be endlessly entertaining.” After delivering the threat, William erupted into a fit of arrogant, unhinged laughter. I raised an eyebrow, genuinely surprised. This European aristocrat has some seriously twisted fetishes. But in that exact millisecond, the situation violently escalated. My seventh brother, Liam, who was being held closest to William. Suddenly exploded upward, violently throwing the massive bodyguard off his back. He grabbed a jagged, shattered shard of glass from the smashed coffee table. Moving with the explosive, lethal speed of a leopard. He locked his arm securely around William’s neck from behind. The razor-sharp edge of the glass shard was instantly pressed directly against William’s carotid artery. “Nobody move!” Liam’s eyes were completely bloodshot. “Tell your men to drop their weapons!” “Or I swear to God I will slice your throat open right now!” 3 More than a dozen heavy, matte-black firearms. Instantly and uniformly raised, the barrels aiming directly at Liam’s head. My father’s face drained of color. “Liam!” His voice was shaking violently. “Don’t do anything stupid! Let him go!” “Dad. Mom.” The razor-sharp glass had sliced deeply into Liam’s own palm. Blood dripped steadily onto the floor. But he acted as if he couldn’t feel the pain at all. Liam’s voice choked with emotion. “Since we were kids, my older brothers always protected me.” “Today, it’s my turn to protect our family.” My oldest brother, Alexander, had eyes as red as blood, his voice completely hoarse. “Liam! Have you lost your fucking mind?!” “You’re twenty-two! Your life is just starting!” “If the sky falls on the Sterling family, I am the oldest! I am the one who holds it up!” “Trade places with me! Get your ass back here!” The remaining five brothers fought like rabid animals, desperately trying to break free from the guards to replace their youngest brother. “We don’t have time!” Liam ground his teeth together, glaring at Alexander with tear-filled, furious eyes. “Get Mom and Dad out of here! Now!” “GO!” Hearing those words, my mother’s legs completely gave out, and she collapsed sobbing onto the floor. My six brothers stood up, their eyes burning with unshed tears. “Liam!” Chloe threw her arms around me, sobbing so hard she looked like she was going to pass out. “How fascinating.” William let out a soft, dark chuckle. He didn’t struggle. He didn’t beg for mercy. He didn’t even order his bodyguards to open fire. His eyes were absolutely filled with a sick, twisted sense of pleasure. “I originally assumed this was just going to be a boring, straightforward massacre.” “I never anticipated getting to watch such an emotional, pathetic struggle.” William’s voice dripped with adrenaline and excitement. “This hunting game.” “Is getting incredibly entertaining.” “Shut the fuck up!” Liam tightened his grip, pulling William backward. The glass pressed harder against William’s neck. He roared, his voice tearing. “Do you want to test me?!” “Do you want to see if your guards can pull the trigger faster than I can slice your artery open?!” He turned his head, screaming desperately at us. “We’re out of time! Run!” Two tracks of heavy, agonizing tears rolled down my father’s face. To save the rest of us. He swallowed his absolute devastation, and violently shoved my mother backward toward the door. “Take Chloe and Maya! Get them out of here!” My mother was sobbing uncontrollably. She stumbled backward, grabbing Chloe’s hand and my hand, preparing to run. BANG! A bullet violently slammed into the marble floor, less than an inch from my mother’s foot. The expensive Italian marble exploded into shrapnel. My mother shrieked, her legs collapsing under her. Chloe screamed in absolute terror. The sudden, deafening gunshot. Nailed every single member of the Sterling family to the floor. “Run?” William let out a low, gravelly laugh. “Did I give you permission to run?” The moment the words left his mouth. A lethal, glowing red laser dot suddenly appeared on the vital organs of every single member of the Sterling family. Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The distinct, metallic clack of high-powered sniper rifles racking rounds echoed through the courtyard. “Do it, you piece of trash.” William’s voice was soft, almost a whisper. He looked at Liam, his eyes dripping with arrogant provocation. He even intentionally leaned his neck back, pressing his skin deeper against the jagged glass in Liam’s hand. “Don’t hesitate.” “Press it just half an inch deeper, and you sever my carotid artery.” Liam’s hand began to shake uncontrollably. “Why are you shaking?” William smiled, a sick, psychopathic grin spreading across his face. “Are you scared?” “Let’s play a game. Let’s see whose reflexes are faster. Your hand, or my snipers’ bullets.” “The absolute millisecond I shed a single drop of blood.” “The skulls of your parents, your brothers, and your sisters will explode simultaneously.” Liam completely shattered. The rigid, defiant posture of his spine instantly collapsed. His hand, gripping the glass shard, went completely limp. The bloody piece of glass fell from his hand, hitting the freezing marble floor. It landed with a sharp, devastating, fragile clink. William let out an exaggerated sigh. He raised his hand, looking incredibly bored. He lightly brushed his fingers against his neck, checking the tiny scratch left by the glass. “I gave you the opportunity to play the hero.” “What a shame. You’re far too pathetic to take it.” William turned around. Looking down from his pedestal at Liam, who was slumped defeatedly on the floor. “You Sterling men are all genetically worthless.” He elegantly, meticulously adjusted his custom suit cuffs. “This boring little melodrama.” “Is officially over.” 4 The dynamic of the room instantly, violently reversed. A bodyguard stepped forward and delivered a brutal, crushing kick directly to Liam’s chest. Liam was launched backward, slamming heavily onto the marble floor. He coughed up a massive splatter of dark red blood. “Liam!” Alexander, my oldest brother, lunged forward, throwing his body over Liam to protect him. His reward was an even more vicious, merciless beating. Over a dozen massive, armed bodyguards surrounded them, right in front of the entire family. They began ruthlessly, violently kicking and stomping on Liam and Alexander. “Stop it…” My father let out a broken, agonizing wail of despair. He turned his head, looking at William with eyes completely devoid of hope. His voice was a shattered, desperate plea. “I’ll sign the documents. Take my life.” “Just let my family go.” “Let my wife and my daughters go.” William pulled a pristine, pure white handkerchief from his breast pocket. He slowly, methodically wiped the faint trace of blood from his neck. He walked over to my father. And threw the blood-stained handkerchief directly into my father’s face. He leaned down, his face inches from my father’s, his tone dripping with absolute, insufferable arrogance. “Your son scratched me. I am deeply offended by that.” “What do you think we should do about it?” Tears streamed down my father’s weathered face. He had spent decades dominating the cutthroat world of international business. He was the wealthiest, most powerful Asian executive in the hemisphere. He was a man constructed of iron, who had never, ever bowed to anyone in his entire life. In that moment, his knees buckled. He dropped heavily, falling to his knees directly in front of William. “I am begging you…” “Not enough.” William shook his head, offering a gentle, mocking smile. Watching their father subjected to such horrific, degrading humiliation. My seven brothers’ eyes turned bloodshot. Moving in perfect unison, they all collapsed, dropping to their knees on the marble floor. William’s smile grew radiant, absolutely ecstatic. He turned his head. Looking toward the dark corner where Chloe and I were huddled. His voice dripped with maximum, concentrated venom and mockery. “The untouchable princesses of the Sterling empire.” “Watching your father and your brothers begging like dogs on the floor… how does it feel?” Hearing those words, Chloe lunged forward with explosive speed, throwing her body over mine, pinning me to the floor. Using her thin, fragile frame to build a final, desperate barricade to protect me. “Mia, don’t look. Don’t be scared.” Chloe’s voice was shaking so violently it was barely recognizable. Massive, heavy tears fell from her face, crashing onto the back of my hand. “No matter what happens, you have to survive!” I lay quietly under her, looking up at her face. I felt the scalding heat of her tears hitting my skin. I looked at my father, stripped of all dignity, kneeling on the floor. I looked at my brothers, beaten half to death, broken and bleeding. Deep inside my chest, the thick, impenetrable layer of ice that had encased my heart for over a decade… Suddenly fractured, a massive crack splitting right through it. These hands of mine had literally held the lives of the most powerful, dangerous people on the planet. I had witnessed endless death. And I had seen the absolute, grotesque ugliness of human nature. I had watched powerful men, staring death in the face, completely abandon their wives and children, sacrificing anyone and anything just to buy themselves another day of life. When I returned to the Sterling family, I faked being mute for three years. I treated them entirely like biological strangers who just happened to live in the same house. I genuinely assumed that in a family possessing this much astronomical wealth, their relationships were held together entirely by cold, transactional logic. But this family… these people… They were actually, genuinely willing to throw their lives away to protect me—a girl who had only been back for three years, a girl who couldn’t even speak to them. They were fully prepared to die for me. The feeling of being completely, unconditionally protected… of having people willing to bleed for me… It was incredibly foreign. But… I kind of loved it. You want to touch my family? Are you out of your fucking mind? If they die, how am I supposed to maintain my luxurious, lazy, trust-fund lifestyle? William strolled toward us, aggressively yanking Chloe off of me. He leaned down, his eyes locking onto my face with blatant, predatory arrogance. “Little mute.” “Are you terrified?” “Soak up these final few moments of peace.” “Because starting tomorrow.” “You’re going to spend the rest of your life crawling on your hands and knees at my feet like an obedient bitch.” I stood up. Slowly, casually, brushing the dust off my skirt. The next second. In front of the completely, utterly stunned eyes of my entire family. My vocal cords—which had supposedly been paralyzed for three years—engaged. I spoke, my voice ringing out in flawless, crystal-clear, unaccented Parisian French. “Go back and ask your grandfather. Old man DuPont.” “Three years ago in Switzerland.” “The single Golden Needle I embedded into his heart meridian to keep him alive.” “Is it working well for him?” The arrogant, psychopathic smile on William’s face instantly, violently froze. His ice-blue pupils contracted aggressively, staring at me as if I were a ghost that had just crawled out of a grave. I met his gaze with absolute, terrifying calm. I enunciated every single syllable. “Tell him, the three-year contract has expired.” “I am preparing.” “To pull the needle.”

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On the day my uncle finalized the paperwork to sell me into a high-end underground escort ring, I used the silver hairpin my mother left me to bribe a guard for a packet of rat poison. When I was ten years old, my entire family was transported back in time to the colonial era. My parents starved themselves, saving every scrap of food to pay a harsh governess to teach me the strict rules of high society, terrified that my loud, impulsive nature would get us killed in this unforgiving era. But when I was fourteen, I snuck out to see the lantern festival and caught the eye of a local, violent aristocrat. My mother took over a dozen stab wounds protecting me. My father was beaten until his dying breath, screaming at me to run. From that day on, I never laughed out loud again. I endured humiliation without a single word of defense. Even when I was coughing up blood, I refused to let a male doctor examine me. I lived in absolute terror that if I was ever willful or impulsive again, it would mean my parents had bled out for nothing. And now, my uncle was selling me to an escort ring. I refused to let the daughter my parents died to protect become a plaything for other men. But just as I swallowed the poison, the courtyard doors swung open. My parents walked in, wearing modern clothes. “Happy Birthday, sweetie! The ‘Perfect Lady’ behavioral modification test is officially over!” “We never time-traveled. Dad rented out this entire historical reenactment town.” “And our ‘deaths’ were just a lesson to teach you how to be elegant, disciplined, and mature.” My mother pulled me into a tight hug, smiling with profound satisfaction. “Our wild, rebellious little tomboy has finally become the perfect, refined young lady.” I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t form a smile. So… the guilt that had tortured me for five years… the unspeakable suffering, the swallowed tears… it was all just a test they engineered. I endured the agonizing, twisting pain erupting in my stomach and leaned into her embrace. “Mom. Dad. I’m so glad you’re back.” “But this time… I don’t think I can go home with you.” 1 My mother froze for a second, then laughed, playfully tapping my nose. “Oh honey, are you still in character?” My father stepped out from behind her, holding a large buttercream birthday cake. “Alright, the test is over.” “Whatever you want to eat, just tell Dad. We’re throwing you a massive makeup birthday party tonight.” Those familiar yet entirely foreign titles crashed down on me. Dad. Mom. I hadn’t heard those words in five years. I stared at the numerical candles on the cake. Nineteen. So today was my birthday. And it was the day they chose to finally drop the curtain. Another wave of brutal, twisting agony ripped through my stomach. I ground my teeth together, forcing myself not to double over. My mother took my hand, inspecting it with satisfaction. “Your posture is perfect, your composure is flawless. Even with a surprise this massive, you didn’t lose your elegance.” “See, honey? I told you this immersive behavioral therapy would work.” My father smiled smugly. “Back then, she was sneaking out of school, getting into fistfights with boys, and demanding we buy her an electric guitar.” “If we didn’t step in, she would have ended up in jail or dead in a ditch.” “Look at her now. She’s flawless. The absolute picture of a proper, respectable daughter.” I looked down at the hand my mother was holding. The fingertips were covered in thick, rough callouses from years of hand-washing laundry on a washboard. The old, ugly scars on my wrists were hidden beneath my long, linen sleeves. They didn’t even notice them. “So, the violent aristocrat at the lantern festival… that was fake too?” “Of course.” My father waved a hand dismissively. “Professional actors.” “The blood packs strapped to your mother, the blood I coughed up when I ‘died’—all Hollywood props.” “And the dozen stab wounds?” “Retractable prop knives. Very common in the film industry.” “When you fell to the ground in front of me, Mom kept screaming at me to run.” “And Dad… you coughed up so much blood.” My mother smiled, her expression incredibly gentle. “It had to feel real. That was the only way you’d learn your lesson.” I nodded slowly. “I understand.” They didn’t know. They didn’t know that after I escaped into the woods that night, I snuck back. I tried to scrub the blood off the cobblestones. I scrubbed it three times, and it wouldn’t come out. I knelt in that puddle of fake blood, smashing my forehead against the stone over and over again. I begged God to take my life and give my parents back. For the next five years, whenever I heard the sound of metal clashing, I would hyperventilate and shake uncontrollably. For five entire years, I never slept through the night. Footsteps echoed from outside the door. My “uncle”—the man who had just grabbed me by the hair and tried to drag me onto the auction block—walked in. He pulled off his fake beard, rubbing a massive, swelling bruise on his forehead. “Mr. Vance, your daughter hits like a truck.” My dad frowned. “Chloe, did you hit Uncle Dave?” “He was trying to strip my clothes off to ‘inspect’ me.” “That’s standard procedure for the escort storyline.” Uncle Dave rubbed his head, complaining: “I barely touched her, and she grabbed a heavy brass candlestick and swung for the fences.” “If I hadn’t ducked, she would have cracked my skull open.” The smile vanished from my mother’s face. “We trained you for five years, and you are still this impulsive and violent?” I looked at her. “Is a woman not allowed to defend herself when a strange man tries to strip her naked?” “Of course you are.” She explained, her tone dripping with strained patience: “But this is a test. The entire room is wired with hidden cameras.” “The production staff wouldn’t actually hurt you.” “I didn’t know that.” “You should have trusted your parents.” I couldn’t help but let out a short, hollow laugh. “But to me, my parents have been dead for five years.” The room plunged into silence. My dad set the cake down, his tone turning dark and authoritative. “Is that how you speak to your mother?” “We spent millions of dollars renting out this entire historical town, hiring over a thousand actors to help you complete your developmental assessment, and it was all for your own good!” “You suffer a little inconvenience, and now you’re blaming us?” My mother let go of my hand. “Chloe, do not disappoint me.” Disappoint. Those two words had terrorized me for five years. When I couldn’t stomach the stale, rotting food—I was disappointing my dead mother. When I was too sick to get out of bed—I was bringing shame to my dead father. And now, standing right in front of me, alive and breathing, they still felt I wasn’t obedient enough. I lowered my head. “I’m sorry.” My mother’s expression finally softened. “That’s a good girl.” She pulled a pristine, white designer dress from her luggage. “Go change. There are hundreds of staff members waiting outside to attend your graduation ceremony.” Another spasm of agonizing pain ripped through my stomach. I couldn’t hold it back anymore. “Can we… can we wait a little bit?” “I really don’t feel well.” My dad checked his Rolex. “No. We only rented the venue until midnight.” “Everyone played their part for five years. Don’t throw a childish tantrum at the very end and ruin the finale.” My mother shoved the dress into my arms. “Hurry up.” I clutched the dress and walked into the adjoining washroom. As the door clicked shut, I heard my mother laughing outside. “See? Look how obedient she is now.” My dad replied: “Well, at least the last five years weren’t a total waste.” I slid my back down the door, collapsing onto the floor. A mouthful of dark blood surged up my throat, but I forcefully swallowed it back down. On the vanity table, the yellow paper packet that held the rat poison was nothing but a torn corner. Earlier, when I offered the brothel madam my silver hairpin and begged her for a way out, she impatiently pointed to a mahogany box on her vanity. “If you want to kill yourself, take it. Just don’t delay the auction.” She probably thought it was just another scene in the script. But I didn’t know what a script was. I only knew that the grayish-white powder was incredibly bitter. And the moment I swallowed it, a roaring, consuming fire ignited in my stomach. I crumpled the torn paper corner in my fist and slowly changed into the white dress. The sizing was perfect. Except the waist was a little too tight. It was pressing directly against the burning agony in my stomach, making it worse. 2 The walk from the courtyard to the main theater took less than five minutes. By the time I walked in, the venue was packed. The “madam” had taken off her extravagant period jewelry and was wearing a sleek corporate pantsuit. The “village elder” who had forced me to sign the indentured servitude contract was holding up his iPhone, taking a selfie. The cruel governess who used to beat me was sitting next to my mother, her face wrinkled in a bright, sycophantic smile. “Congratulations on your graduation, Miss Vance!” Everyone erupted into applause. They laughed, looking entirely relaxed. As if the vicious slaps I endured, and the freezing winter nights I spent starving, were nothing more than lines of dialogue they could forget as soon as the director yelled ‘cut’. My mother pulled me to the center of the stage. “Say thank you to everyone.” I didn’t move. My dad immediately chimed in, his tone warning: “Chloe, these people dedicated five years to you. Don’t forget your basic manners.” I bent my knees and dropped to the floor, kneeling. A collective gasp echoed through the theater. My mother hurriedly tried to pull me up. “Oh my god, I didn’t mean literally get on your knees.” I looked up at her. “The governess taught me that when a woman expresses gratitude, only a full prostration shows true sincerity.” The governess’s smile froze awkwardly. “Miss Vance, I was just teaching you the etiquette written in the script.” I looked at my parents. “Did you know exactly what I was learning every single month?” My mother nodded matter-of-factly. “Uncle Dave sent us detailed progress reports every thirty days.” “But did you ever actually come and look at me yourselves?” “Chloe, we have our own lives.” Her tone edged into impatience. “Your father has a company to run, and I have to take care of your little brother.” “Did you expect our entire family to put our lives on hold for five years just for your behavioral test?” “Little brother?” Realizing she had slipped up, my mother simply pulled out her iPhone. On the screen, a four-year-old boy was sitting on a bench at Disney World, eating an ice cream cone. My parents were sitting on either side of him. The three of them were wearing matching family outfits, smiling radiantly. “This is Oliver.” “We were afraid that if you knew about him, you’d throw a fit and demand to come home, so we kept it a secret.” I stared at the timestamp on the photo. Three years ago. That was the year my fever wouldn’t break. I knelt in the freezing ancestral hall for an entire night. I prayed to God, offering to trade ten years of my own lifespan if it meant my parents could be reincarnated and find peace. It turned out they had already started a new family. I was the only one faithfully tending to two empty graves, burning paper money every year. “You visited the historical town during the spring.” “Why didn’t you come see me?” My mother avoided my gaze. “We couldn’t risk breaking character and ruining the immersion during the test.” “Besides, Oliver caught a fever twice that trip, we were incredibly busy.” I nodded slowly. “When he gets a fever, you stay by his side.” “When I was dying of a fever, you read a progress report.” “Chloe Vance!” My dad snapped, cutting me off sharply. “Don’t start competing with your little brother the second you get back.” “Oliver is only four years old. You are nineteen!” A massive, violent cramp ripped through my stomach. I doubled over, and a single drop of dark blood splashed onto the pristine white dress. My mother’s expression shifted. “What is that on your mouth?” I wiped it away with my sleeve. “Lipstick.” Uncle Dave scoffed from the side. “Playing the victim again.” “A few years ago, when she was trying to skip a lesson, she somehow managed to steal a fake blood pack from the props department and smeared it all over her bed.” “Nearly gave one of the tutors a heart attack.” The governess quickly chimed in: “Mrs. Vance, she pulled these little stunts all the time.” “When she was ‘in pain’, she screamed like she was dying, but she could eat a full meal just fine an hour later.” The hand my mother had extended toward me stopped mid-air. She let out a heavy sigh. “Chloe, the test is over. There’s no need to keep acting.” “Go apologize to Uncle Dave, and we’ll consider this whole incident resolved.” I looked at the man who, an hour ago, had almost sold me into an underground brothel. “And if I refuse to apologize?” My dad’s face darkened completely. “Then it proves that these five years were a complete waste of time, and you learned absolutely nothing.” I stood in silence for a moment, then walked over to Uncle Dave. “I’m sorry.” Uncle Dave finally smiled. “See? Now that’s how a refined young lady behaves.” My mother linked her arm through mine, her voice dropping into a coaxing, motherly tone: “This is the final stage.” “Just be a good girl and get through this, and then we can all go home.” I looked at her. “Mom, what happens if I don’t make it through?” She didn’t hesitate for a single second. “Then we add another year to the test.” 3 The massive projector screen began playing a highlight reel of my “behavioral transformation.” Fourteen-year-old me, hands on my hips, screaming at the governess. Fifteen-year-old me, kneeling in front of my parents’ fake graves, sobbing and swearing I would never be rebellious again. Sixteen-year-old me, sitting meekly in front of an embroidery frame. When the needle pierced my finger, I didn’t even dare to whimper. The audience erupted in laughter. Uncle Dave held up a glass of champagne, joking: “Miss Vance was an absolute nightmare when she first arrived.” “Climbing walls, cursing people out, stealing horses. She was a literal feral monkey.” “But once Mrs. Vance ‘died’, she fell right into line.” My mother smiled, her eyes tearing up slightly. “What parent actually wants to force their child into something like this?” “But if we weren’t harsh, how was she ever going to learn?” I looked down at my hands. My nails were digging so hard into my palms they were drawing blood. The agony in my stomach was coming in relentless, suffocating waves, but I kept my posture perfectly rigid and straight. My mother noticed I wasn’t eating. “Why aren’t you eating?” “I don’t have an appetite.” “Are you being a picky eater again?” She scooped a large slice of buttercream cake onto my plate. “You used to love sweets when you were a little girl.” I stared at the cake. When I was ten and they first brought me to this place, I cried and begged for a slice of cake. The governess locked me in a room and starved me for three days. She told me that a woman who craves indulgences is cheap and undisciplined. From that day on, I never asked for anything sweet again. “I don’t like it anymore.” My mother’s hand paused. “You obviously loved it before.” “People change.” My dad interjected, visibly annoyed: “Your mother specifically ordered that for you. Take a bite.” I picked up a forkful of buttercream and placed it in my mouth. The second the sugar hit my tongue, my stomach revolted violently. I clamped my hand over my mouth, but dark blood and white cream violently expelled from my lips, splattering into the bowl. My mother jumped up in a panic. “Chloe!” But the governess beat her to it, quickly throwing a napkin over the bowl. “Mrs. Vance, don’t fall for it again.” “It’s probably just another hidden blood pack.” My dad grabbed my mother’s arm, pulling her back. “Tonight is supposed to be a celebration. Don’t let her ruin the atmosphere.” My mother looked at me, hesitating. “Chloe, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?” “My stomach hurts.” “Since when?” “Since before you walked into the courtyard.” “Did you eat something bad?” I looked dead into her eyes. “I ate rat poison.” My mother froze for two seconds, then actually laughed out of sheer frustration. “Stop talking nonsense.” Uncle Dave hurriedly stepped forward to clarify. “The brothel auction scene did include a ‘poisoning’ alternative ending in the script.” “But the powder in the prop packet was just cornstarch. She could eat a pound of it and be perfectly fine.” My dad’s expression turned glacial. “Using cornstarch to try and terrify your parents. Do you honestly think this is a funny game?” “I’m not trying to terrify you.” “Enough.” My mother shook her head in profound disappointment. “At least in the past, you never joked about suicide.” “We just got back, can you just let your father and me be happy for one night?” Julian walked over, holding a glass of wine. “Chloe.” I stared at him for a long time before finally recognizing the childhood best friend who used to get into all kinds of trouble with me. “Your parents said that once the test was over, we’d announce our engagement.” “Didn’t you used to yell about how you were going to marry me every single day?” I asked: “Did you know they faked their deaths, too?” “Of course.” He swirled his wine glass, smiling casually. “When your parents were drafting the project proposal, they even asked for my input.” “And honestly, I agreed that you needed to be humbled.” “With the temper you used to have, who could possibly tolerate you?” It turned out everyone knew the truth. Everyone except me. I was the only one kneeling in the dirt, repenting to empty graves day after day. “I’m not marrying you.” Julian’s smile vanished. “Chloe, don’t push your luck.” “You’ve been completely isolated from modern society for five years. You don’t have a high school diploma, you have zero marketable skills, and you don’t even know how to operate a smartphone.” “Aside from me, who the hell is going to want you?” My dad didn’t utter a single word of defense. My mother merely chided lightly: “Julian, don’t be so harsh.” It wasn’t that he was wrong. He was just being “harsh.” I gripped the edge of the table and forced myself to stand up. “I want to go back to my room to rest.” My dad’s face darkened. “Finish the toast with Julian, then you can go.” “I really can’t hold on anymore.” “One last glass.” He shoved the wine glass into my hand. “Don’t ruin the mood for everyone else.” I stared at my reflection in the amber liquid. If the fourteen-year-old Chloe Vance were here, she probably would have flipped the entire table. But they had systematically crushed and killed her. The version of me standing here now only knew how to obey. I raised the glass and downed it in a single gulp, not leaving a single drop. When the empty glass slipped from my fingers and shattered on the floor, my knees gave out, and I collapsed with it. My mother finally reached out to catch me. “Chloe, what’s wrong with you?” I rested my head in her lap, clinging to her exactly the way I used to when I was a little girl seeking comfort. “Mom… I’m so tired.” “Please… just let me sleep for a little while.” 4 My mother didn’t hug me back. She glanced nervously at the guests in the audience, then grabbed my arm and forcefully hauled me up from the floor. “Stop kneeling. What does this look like?” My dad lowered his voice, his tone sharp. “Even if you don’t want to get married, you don’t throw a tantrum and embarrass Julian like this.” Julian’s expression was icy. “Mr. Vance, it looks like five years wasn’t enough to fix her.” “She’s quiet now, but deep down, she’s still as stubborn and defiant as ever.” My mother quickly forced an apologetic smile. “She just got back to reality, she’s having trouble adjusting.” “We’ll discuss the engagement once we get back home.” The agony in my stomach had now spread entirely through my chest. My arms were completely devoid of strength, and I could only lean heavily against my mother to stay upright. “Mom, I really want to go to my room.” “No.” She rejected the request without a second thought. “The guests haven’t left yet. How does it look if the guest of honor abandons her own party?” “I’m in so much pain.” My dad’s face hardened. “Uncle Dave already confirmed the packet was just cornstarch.” “You tried to pull this stunt on us once, and that was enough. How long are you planning to keep this act going?” Uncle Dave quickly stepped up to provide reassurance. “I personally handled the props. It was just standard baking starch, it’s completely harmless.” “Young people, you know how it is. She just found out she was tricked for five years, it’s natural she has some resentment.” “But Mr. and Mrs. Vance only did this out of love for her.” Hearing that, my mother finally relaxed completely. She casually wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth with a napkin, whispering a stern warning: “Alright, enough. Make sure you hand over wherever you’re hiding those fake blood capsules before we leave.” “Don’t leave a mess for the cleaning crew to find.” I didn’t try to explain anymore. I looked down at the blood staining the front of my white dress and said softly: “My dress is dirty. I’m going to the restroom to wash it out.” My mother finally let go of my arm. “Be quick about it. Don’t intentionally make everyone wait for you.” I nodded. “Okay.” I leaned against the wall, taking slow, agonizing steps toward the back courtyard. It was a very short distance, but it took me a painfully long time. The banquet hall behind me erupted into laughter and conversation again. Not a single person turned around to look at me. There was a large brass mirror resting on a vanity in the restroom. The girl staring back at me was wearing a beautiful white dress, but her face was significantly paler than the fabric. I closed the heavy wooden door and dropped the iron latch into place. The second I turned around, a massive mouthful of black, coagulated blood spewed onto the mirror. The dark blood slid slowly down the brass surface, fracturing my reflection into distorted, grotesque pieces. I slid down the door and sat on the floor, the fire in my stomach burning hotter and more violently by the second. When the pain reached its absolute, agonizing peak, my mind suddenly drifted back to the girl I was before I turned fourteen. Back then, I skipped class, I climbed walls, and I got into fistfights with Julian. If I scraped my knee, I would cry in front of my parents for an hour. My mom would carefully apply ointment, and my dad would stand next to her, threatening me: “If I catch you climbing the fence again, I’ll break your legs.” But in the end, he would always carry me home on his back. I had always believed that no matter how much trouble I caused, they would always be there to catch me. Then, they died at the lantern festival. And I realized… that there are some people who won’t wait for you forever. I never dared to cry again. I never dared to be willful. I was terrified that if I took a single misstep, I would betray the bloody sacrifice they made to buy my survival. And now… they were back. But it felt like I could never, ever go home again. A sharp knock echoed against the wooden door. “Miss Vance. Mrs. Vance asked me to tell you it’s time to cut the cake.” I opened my mouth. My throat was choked with thick, pooling blood. I couldn’t make a single sound. A few minutes later, my mother arrived. “Chloe. Come out.” “Everyone is waiting for you.” When I didn’t respond, her tone rapidly shifted from coaxing to intense irritation. “I said that’s enough.” “I already gave you an out, how much longer are you going to throw this tantrum?” My dad marched over, pounding aggressively on the door. “Chloe Vance, open this door!” “Abandoning your guests to hide in the bathroom, is this the kind of etiquette you learned after five years of training?!” “We spent hundreds of millions of dollars to mold you, not so you could learn how to throw attitude at your parents!” I wanted to tell them that I wasn’t throwing attitude. I just physically couldn’t stand up anymore. The excruciating agony in my stomach was slowly beginning to numb and fade. My body felt incredibly light. It felt like I was being transported back to the lantern festival five years ago. My parents were lying in a pool of blood, screaming at me to run. This time, I didn’t run. I closed my eyes, whispering into the dark: “Dad. Mom.” “I’m coming to be with you now.” In the exact moment my consciousness shattered completely, I heard my mother’s voice outside the door, dripping with bitter disappointment. “Even when she was rebellious in the past, she at least never intentionally humiliated us in public.” My dad let out a cold, harsh scoff. “She clearly hasn’t suffered enough.” “If I had known she’d act like this, we should have extended the test for another year.” When I opened my eyes again, I was standing outside the restroom. My parents were still pounding furiously on the door. And my physical body was slumped against the inside of the door panel, the pristine white dress completely drenched in dark red blood. I realized… I was dead. The crowd of guests gathered in the hallway grew larger. Julian stood with his arms crossed, looking profoundly annoyed. “She’s doing this on purpose.” “Rejecting the proposal wasn’t enough drama for her, now she has to play dead in the bathroom to force us to coddle her.” My mother’s face was completely devoid of patience as she issued her final ultimatum. “Chloe, I am going to count to three.” “If you don’t open this door, do not expect to come home with us tonight.” “One.” Silence from inside. “Two.” Still no sound. She waited a long time, but she never counted to three. My dad’s patience finally snapped entirely. “Break the door down!” “Let everyone see exactly what kind of psychotic tantrum she’s throwing!” Two event staff members hurled their weight against the heavy wooden door. Once. Twice. On the third impact, the iron latch snapped. The heavy wooden door fell inward. The corpse that had been leaning against it slowly toppled sideways, the blood-soaked white dress fully exposed under the harsh hallway lights. The fury on my mother’s face froze solid. She stood paralyzed in the doorway, her lips trembling slightly. “Chloe?”

🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MotoNovel” app 🔍 search for “570828”, and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel