My fiancé is deaf in his right ear. But he can hear my best friend tap a coffee cup from across the room. Two soft taps on the table. Julian slides a hot Americano toward Sienna’s hand. One glance at the window. He’s up, pulling the shade before she has to ask. I say his name twice at conversational volume, sitting right next to him. He turns, blinking. “Sorry, babe. Speak up. Couldn’t catch that.” I swallowed my hurt and told myself he was just exhausted from planning the wedding. Until the engagement shoot. Julian pulled Sienna into the frame at the last second, one arm slung around her shoulders. “Three-person shot. We’re all here anyway.” The photographer hesitated. Handed me the proof with a look I couldn’t read. In the photo, Julian’s right hand hung at his side. Hooked around Sienna’s pinky finger with unguarded smile. I hadn’t seen it in three years. I set the bouquet down on the vanity. I didn’t say anything. If he’d never been able to hear me, I was done talking. The photographer fanned thirty proofs across the table. Julian’s eyes skipped past me and landed on Sienna Vaughn. “Sienna. Which one?” Sienna didn’t answer. Just tapped the corner of the three-person shot with a manicured fingertip. Julian turned to the vendor. “This one. Blow it up. Welcome sign at the entrance.” The vendor froze. Glanced at me. Sienna took a graceful half-step back. “Maybe the maid of honor shouldn’t be on the welcome sign, Jules.” Julian was already lifting her Burberry trench off the chair. “Don’t be like that. You’ve been with us through everything.” He turned to me for confirmation. I smiled. “Sure. Front and center.” No bride was going to be standing next to that sign anyway. He nodded, pleased. Reached out to brush a stray hair behind my ear. I tilted my head, pretending to fuss with my hem. His hand hung in the air, then dropped. He didn’t press it. Sienna had just tapped the rim of her empty water glass. Twice. Barely a sound. Julian walked to the bar. Came back with a room-temperature Fiji water, no ice. The way she liked it. Sienna looked up at him and mouthed thank you. Julian caught every curve of her lips. Front and center had left my mouth two feet from his good ear. He hadn’t so much as turned his head. I opened my phone. Pulled up the Plaza reservation. Grand Ballroom. Rooms 3401 through 3418. Krug tasting suite. All of it. Mine to cancel. I started with the Acela tickets. Six of them, first class, Boston to Penn Station. Cancel. Refund. Confirm. Julian was adjusting the angle of Sienna’s straw when the last notification pinged. I hit Confirm on the hotel block. $18,400 back to my Amex. He didn’t hear a thing. Next, the welcome gifts. Forty boxes I’d curated a month ago. Fortnum & Mason English breakfast paired with Harney & Sons Earl Grey. Julian’s grandmother had been drinking that combination since 1998. Sienna picked up a complimentary Walker’s shortbread round. Wrinkled her nose. Pushed the tin two inches away. Julian clocked it. He turned to the events manager. “Actually, let’s swap the whole order. Blue Bottle pour-over packets. Sienna recommended them a while back.” I raised my voice. “The grandparents don’t drink coffee.” Julian tapped his right ear. “Babe, when you shout it’s worse. Just static. Manager, place the order.” The manager walked over with the change form. The number at the bottom had jumped from $3,800 to $12,000. Sienna stood by the samples, twirling a satin ribbon on one of the boxes. The ribbon caught around her wrist. She didn’t pull it off. Just frowned, waiting. Julian went to her. Unwound it, loop by loop. The morning we got our marriage license, I’d been breaking in a pair of Manolos. He’d stood three yards ahead of me on the sidewalk, checking his watch, telling me to hurry up, Nora, you’re embarrassing yourself. Because he couldn’t hear my heels dragging. The manager was still holding out the pen. I set it back down. Stepped back. Smiled at Julian. “You picked it. You sign for it.” He frowned. But Sienna was watching. He signed. Swiped his Chase Sapphire. $12,400. While he was debating packaging colors with her, I pulled up the beverage vendor’s portal. Forty tables. Champagne tower. Two magnums of Dom per table. Delete. Cancel. Confirm. Julian came back over holding one of Sienna’s coffee samples, riding the high of a decision made together. “Nora, what do you feel like for dinner?” Three times louder than his voice had been for me two minutes ago. Because Sienna was watching. Because Julian needed to perform a doting fiancé for an audience. “Whatever,” I said, at normal volume. He didn’t hear. He turned back to Sienna. “Sushi?” She nodded. Traced a small circle in the air with her fingertip. “The conveyor belt place in SoHo. Got it.” I trailed behind them out of the venue, screen dark in my hand. The confirmation email was already in my inbox. Your cancellation has been processed. $47,200 will be refunded within 5-7 business days.

The moving company dropped off the last three boxes at our new apartment. Sienna was already on the couch, flipping through Vogue. She’d come over to scope out the aisle entrance for the maid of honor. The TV was on. Midday news. Sienna raised a hand to her right ear. Julian was out of the kitchen in two steps. TV off. I stood in the hallway holding a box of books. “Master bedroom shelf. Left wall or right?” He was pouring Sienna a room-temperature water. Back to me. I asked again, louder. He didn’t turn. Sienna took the glass and walked toward the master bedroom. Sat on the edge of the bed. Tilted her head up at the vintage Murano wall sconce. “This light’s a little dim.” Quieter than my voice had been. By half. Julian was in the room in seconds. Up on a stool. Sconce off the wall in three motions. That sconce was a 1960s Venini I’d hunted down on 1stDibs. Seven days of watchlist alerts. I walked in. “Why are you taking it down?” Julian read Sienna’s lips. Translated. “The light’s harsh on her eyes. We need something brighter.” Sienna, right on cue. “It’s fine, honestly. Don’t switch it because of me.” Julian handed the sconce to me. “No big deal, babe. Sienna’s eyes are sensitive. Grab another one. You’re on 1stDibs every week anyway.” I didn’t answer. Turned around. Dropped the sconce into the box by the door. Bergdorf Goodman delivered the bridal party garments in the afternoon. Sienna tried on the short bridesmaid dress. Stood in front of the full-length mirror. Her eyes dropped to her right calf. A three-inch scar on the outside of her leg. Just visible below the hem. She tapped the scar with her fingertip. Didn’t say anything. Julian’s eyes followed her fingertip down. His brow furrowed. Sienna reached for the hanger holding my reception gown. Oscar de la Renta. Long train. Two months of hand-embroidery. Custom fit. She held it up against her body. “This length would cover it.” Julian looked at me. Voice as casual as ordering takeout. “Sienna’s got that scar on her leg. Short dress isn’t going to work for her. Nora, wear the backup short one. Let her have this one.” He paused. Pulled a check out of his wallet. Three thousand. “For a replacement. Get yourself something new.” The frostbite scars on my calves were three times the size of Sienna’s little line. Cambridge winter. Three jobs. Saving up for his Phonak Lyric implant. My knees down were raw for two months straight. He’d cried at Mount Auburn Hospital, holding my leg, swearing he’d buy me the longest dress in New York on our wedding day. I took the check. The associate led Sienna to the fitting room. Julian watched until the curtain dropped. Then turned to me. Clapped my shoulder. “You’re the best, Nora. Nobody handles things like you do.” I smiled back. Opened my phone. Pulled up the Amtrak reservations. Six Acela first-class tickets. Vermont. Connecticut. Boston. Cancel. Cancel. Cancel. The refund notifications chimed. Julian didn’t hear. Sienna stepped out of the fitting room in my reception gown. Train dragging behind her. Embroidery catching the light. Julian looked at her. Eyes lit up. “Beautiful.” He’d never once said that word to me. I saved the cancellation screenshots to my camera roll. Labeled the folder: T-minus 2 days.

Rehearsal at the Plaza’s Grand Ballroom. Sound system cranked to maximum. Julian stopped halfway down the aisle. Palm clapped over his right ear. The officiant asked him to stand under the floral arch. He shook his head. “Too loud. I can’t post up here.” Sienna rose from the first row. Walked to him. Pulled a pair of custom silicone earplugs from her Louis Vuitton clutch. Didn’t say a word. Just stood on her toes. Julian bent his head down. Let her fit them in. They looked at each other and laughed. Music cued. My entrance. Julian, earplugs in, watched the hem of Sienna’s dress. She stood too close to the aisle. His eyes tracked her shoes, worried she’d trip on something. I stopped in front of him. “Julian.” Nothing. Louder. “Julian.” Still nothing. Sienna reached out. Nudged his elbow. He blinked up at me. Half a beat late. Reached for my hand. His fingertips touched mine. But his eyes were already sliding past my shoulder, checking the officiant’s teleprompter. I pulled my hand back. “We can skip this part.” Julian assumed I was overheated. Relieved. “Yeah. We’ll walk it tomorrow.” I stepped aside. Sat down in one of the ceremony chairs. Opened my work email. Forwarded my resignation and transition packet to HR Director Karen at Cravath. Effective date: tomorrow. Rehearsal ended. The wedding planner handed me the ring box. Two rings. His and hers. GIA-certified loose diamonds I’d spent four months sourcing across five cities. Tiffany’s Manhattan. Tiffany’s Chestnut Hill. Boston. Philadelphia. Chicago. Miami. Sienna leaned over to look. Slid her left ring finger over the smaller of the two bands. Comparing sizes. Julian picked up the smaller ring. Grabbed Sienna’s hand. Slipped it on. “See if it fits.” It stuck at the second knuckle. Sienna’s fingers were thicker than mine. Wouldn’t go down. Wouldn’t come off. Her knuckle started turning purple. Julian panicked. Sienna’s hand in a glass of ice water. Then dish soap. Five minutes of massaging. Nothing moved. Julian called engineering. A maintenance guy came up with a toolkit. Pulled out a pair of micro shears. The sound of metal on metal ran for ten seconds. The ring snapped in two. Julian was already checking Sienna’s finger for broken skin. Talking to me over his shoulder. “Why’d you pick a tension setting? The ring’s way too narrow. If you hadn’t insisted on this cut, Sienna’s finger wouldn’t have gotten stuck.” “It broke, whatever. We’ll grab a plain band tomorrow. Don’t make it weird in front of the guests.” The center stone in that ring was a diamond I’d compared under a loupe for four months. He’d held my hand the day I picked it and said this was the anchor of our marriage. Not a flaw allowed. I took the main stone out of the box. Slipped it into my clutch. Nine that night, I called a private buyer in the 47th Street Diamond District. He verified the GIA certificate number. $63,000 cash offer. I accepted. Then I logged into our Chase joint account. Every dollar I’d put in before the wedding. Down payment. Deposits. Bridal fittings. My money. Transferred all of it back to my own account. Joint balance: $0.00. Julian was bandaging Sienna’s finger when the transfer confirmed. Careful. Pressing the edges flat. So she wouldn’t get water on it. I closed my phone. Looked at the two halves of the broken ring on the floor. Nice metalwork. Shame it wasn’t worth anything anymore.

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The call from my mother came in just as I was signing off on a ten-million-dollar patent licensing deal. She gave the order the way she always did. “Serena’s getting married this weekend. You need to be there.” She hung up. I opened the family group chat I’d had on mute for months. For once, my brother Elliot had actually tagged me. “Wear something decent. Don’t embarrass Serena. The Ashfords are old money. Every guest at that wedding matters.” Message Form my childhood friend Ethan Cole also popped up in right after. “It’s been ten years since we graduated. If you’d worked half as hard as Serena and gotten into an Ivy, you wouldn’t be living alone in some basement, scavenging expired bread just to get by.” I read every message, one by one. Then I stopped on a message from Melanie Reed, the girl who used to be my best friend. “Hazel, Serena’s marrying into the Ashfords. If things in New York aren’t working out, come home. Have the Ashfords find you something local. Anything’s better than digging through trash.” I looked down. The Ashfords. Sterling Ashford, the head of the Ashford family, had reached out three times through Dr. Langley, MIT’s Provost, requesting thirty minutes of my time. He’d been trying for three months. They thought I was scraping by in Queens. My actual apartment was in Cambridge, a fifteen-minute walk from my lab at MIT. The chat kept lighting up. I couldn’t be bothered to read any more of it. I just typed back, “OK. I’ll be there.” Serena sent a Venmo request within seconds. $0.01 The memo read: “For your flight home ❤️ Can’t wait to see you, Hazel!!” Elliot’s voice message came in immediately after. “With everything Serena’s paying for right now, how can you actually accept that? Send it back.” Ethan: “Just because Serena pulls $200k a year doesn’t give you the right to guilt her into paying your way.” I was about to type a response. Melanie dropped in with a sighing emoji. “Come on, you guys. Can we stop coming at Hazel every chance we get?” “Look, she went the furthest and earns the least out of all of us. She was too embarrassed to face us, so she’s been avoiding us for ten years. She’s finally coming home. Don’t scare her off.” I looked down again. At eighteen, yes. I really had been avoiding them. Senior year of high school, Serena had transferred in from California and slid effortlessly into my little circle of three. Me, Ethan, and Melanie. Just like at home, I quickly became the invisible one. We’d be walking down the hallway, and out of nowhere all three of them would stop at the same time. Ethan would tip his chin up slightly. Melanie would follow his eyes. Serena would look down and smile. I’d just be standing there. At first, I’d ask what they were laughing about. A few times. They always said it was nothing. Eventually, I stopped trying to force my way into a circle that didn’t want me. I started avoiding them instead. Then MIT’s early admission letter came, and every waking hour of mine went into the lab. I didn’t have time to avoid anyone anymore. A DM from Serena pulled me back. “Hazel, don’t take the Venmo thing personally.” Her tone was all soft edges. “I know rent in New York is brutal and things are tight for you. I just wanted to help cover your flight. That’s all I meant by it.” A teary-eyed emoji followed. Right on cue, the group chat filled up with people praising how thoughtful she was. I screenshotted the Venmo request and sent her $0.01 back. The chat went quiet for a few seconds. Elliot was the first to snap. “Hazel, what the hell? You think it’s not enough? Everyone at this wedding is in the Ashfords’ circle. You didn’t even finish college, and Serena’s still willing to have you there. And you’re going to nickel-and-dime her over a Venmo?” Ethan: “A penny’s still a gesture.” Melanie: “Serena actually cares about you. Did you think for one second how that screenshot made her feel?” I leaned back in my chair and took a sip of coffee. At eighteen, that kind of one-sided defense would’ve kept me up all night. At twenty-eight, I didn’t feel a thing. Serena sent a voice memo. Careful, apologetic. “Hazel, I got so excited when I heard you were coming home, my hand slipped. Please don’t be upset, okay?” “I really do worry about you out there in New York on your own. I already talked to Julian about finding you something at his firm.” “But they have standards, you know? Bachelor’s degree minimum. With your background… maybe a receptionist role, or admin assistant. Don’t take it the wrong way.” Elliot scoffed. “What right does she have to take it the wrong way? She’s the one who dropped the ball. When my colleagues ask about her SAT scores, I can barely bring myself to say them out loud.” Ten years ago, on the day college decisions came in the mail. Serena got into Yale. I got one rejection letter and a waitlist notice from the local community college. My parents booked a two-week trip through Europe with Serena and Elliot. They handed me $50. Said it was for two weeks of groceries. They didn’t even pretend to feel bad about it. “It wouldn’t be fair to the kids who worked hard if we took the underperformer along.” I wanted to say that a family shouldn’t rank its children by a report card. But I remembered the coffee mug that had split the skin above my eyebrow the year before. I swallowed it. Just like I swallowed the fact that I’d won gold at the USAMO, and that MIT had already offered me early admission with a full Presidential Scholarship. I never told them. A knock at the door. Emma, my assistant, stood in the doorway, her voice careful and respectful. “Dr. Whitmore, Dr. Langley called personally this time. He’s asking if you could spare thirty minutes for Mr. Ashford.” Ashford Industries had already sunk half a billion dollars into their BCI program. It had been stalled for two years on one specific neural signal decoding algorithm. I happened to hold the patent that would unlock it. Emma hesitated. “Do you want me to decline again?” I laughed softly. “No. Tell Mr. Ashford I’ll be in Newport this weekend.”

Friday. I flew into Providence and drove down to Newport. No one came to meet me. I took a black car service straight to my parents’ house. Melanie opened the door. She did a small double take, something flickering behind her eyes. “Hazel… I almost didn’t recognize you. The city’s been good to you, huh? That outfit doesn’t exactly scream two grand a month take-home.” I didn’t respond. I walked past her into the house. Serena’s eyes tracked to the watch on my wrist, then swept over my coat. She pressed her lips together. “Hazel, come on, we’re family. You don’t need to put on a show like this. How many credit cards did you max out?” Elliot glanced at me. “Ten years away, and you haven’t picked up a single skill. Just the ego.” Ethan chimed in, laughing. “Impressive, Hazel. You used to be so plain in high school. Now you’ve learned how to work a knockoff.” I looked at them. Ten years, them had changed. Elliot had put on weight. Melanie had lines at the corners of her eyes. Ethan’s hairline had retreated visibly. Serena was the exception. Porcelain-smooth, immaculate, styled to within an inch of her life. But one thing was the same across all four faces. That same faint, casual condescension when they looked at me. I raised an eyebrow. “From the day I graduated until now, I have never once mentioned my income to any of you. I have never sent any of you a private message complaining about money. So where exactly are you getting your numbers from?” Nobody had an answer. My mother came out of the kitchen carrying a serving dish. She glanced at me. “With no college degree, what kind of job could she possibly get in New York? Three grand a month, tops.” My father clapped me on the shoulder. “Alright, alright. We’re family. Nobody here’s going to judge you for struggling. Let’s just eat.” Eight dishes. Ethan and Melanie both cooed over them. “Mrs. Whitmore, you remembered I love the ribs!” “You made the lemon cream salmon again! Mrs. Whitmore, that was my favorite last time.” I glanced across the table. Every person at the table had their favorite in front of them. Even the golden retriever curled up at the foot of the couch had a small bowl of beef set aside by my mother. Every person except me. At the table, my mother sliced the tenderest piece of prime rib and pushed it onto Serena’s plate. “We’ve made a few real estate investments along the Newport coast over the years. One property for Elliot. One for Serena. One we live in. And a smaller one we’re renting out.” She looked up at me. “Hazel, Elliot and Serena both went to top schools. It’s only right that they get property. If you got one too, when you didn’t even finish college, it wouldn’t be fair to them.” I set down my fork and let out a small laugh. “So the way this family divides property is by GPA. Not by how many biological children you have.” The table went dead silent. My mother’s face flushed red. Her palm came down on the table hard enough to rattle the glasses. “Hazel! Ten years, not so much as a phone call, and you walk into this house and start attacking me?!” “If I’d known you’d turn out this ungrateful, I should have given you up for adoption at the hospital!” Exactly like ten years ago. The day my mother saw my SAT score report. The mug flew straight at my forehead. Hit hard enough to split the skin above my eyebrow. Blood ran down the side of my face and dripped onto the hardwood. She’d worn the same expression. “The one thing I regret in this life is not giving you up at the hospital. It would have saved me the embarrassment.” Ten years was long enough to give up on whatever thin sliver of maternal love I’d once hoped for. Right now, I didn’t feel a thing. My father tried to smooth things over. “You know how your mother is. She says things she doesn’t mean. Don’t take it personally.” He forced a laugh and changed the subject. “Serena, I got my hands on a bottle of Macallan 25 through a friend. We’ll give it to Mr. Ashford tomorrow. He’ll love it.” Serena smiled tightly. Something guarded moved behind her eyes. “Dad… Mr. Ashford might not be able to make it.”

My father froze. “What do you mean, he’s not coming? It’s Julian’s wedding. How is he not showing up?” Serena sighed. “Julian said there’s an important guest flying in from out of town this weekend. Mr. Ashford has to host them personally. He can’t get away.” Elliot frowned. “Who is this person? More important than his own grandson’s wedding?” “I’m not exactly sure,” Serena said, shaking her head. “Julian just said someone from the East Coast. Apparently Mr. Ashford spent months working his network just to get this meeting on the calendar.” Melanie looked baffled. “What kind of person makes an Ashford wait that long? Do you know what that family is worth in New England?” Ethan scoffed. “Exactly. Nothing tops Serena’s wedding.” Serena waved them off quickly. “Don’t say that. Julian told me this person holds a technical patent that’s exactly what Ashford Industries needs right now. Mr. Ashford said if they can close this deal, the family is set for the next decade.” She paused. Then, with studied casualness, she glanced at me. “Hazel, you’ve been out there a while. Have you heard anything about who this might be?” I shook my head. “Not really.” Elliot let out a short, derisive laugh. “She never finished college. What would she have heard? Serena, stop dragging her into every conversation. She can’t keep up.” I kept eating and said nothing. What was I supposed to say? That the person Mr. Ashford had been chasing for months was me? They’d laugh in my face and hit me with a “Come on, don’t flatter yourself.” After dinner, I sat around for a while and was about to get up when my father stopped me. “Hazel, your mom cleaned out your old room a few days ago. You haven’t been home in ten years. She won’t say it, but she’s missed you.” He added, with a small smile, “New sheets, new pillowcases. She picked them out herself.” Right on cue, my mother came out of the kitchen wiping her hands, her voice flat. “Melanie’s taking the guest room tonight. Hazel, you can crash on the couch.” My father’s smile stiffened on his face. Melanie looked up from the couch, glanced at me, and the corner of her mouth twitched upward. “Mrs. Whitmore, please, I couldn’t. I can just book an Airbnb.” My mother’s tone left no room for discussion. “You come home so rarely. I’m not letting you stay at some stranger’s place. Hazel’s family. She can take the couch.” I stood next to the dining table and said nothing. The summer after I finished the SAT, Melanie stayed over. I gave her my room and curled up on the living room couch all night. The AC broke that night. In August. I woke up sweating three times. By morning my shirt was soaked through and my neck was cramped from the couch arm. When my mother saw me the next morning, all she said was, “You should’ve grabbed a blanket from the closet and slept on the guest room floor. Guest room has the window unit.” Melanie stayed over a few more times after that. Once, I stood in the doorway of my own room and watched my mother bend over the guest bed, carefully smoothing fresh sheets, a soft smile on her face. I stood there thinking I looked like a guest who’d wandered into the wrong house. “Hazel?” My mother’s voice pulled me back. She was frowning, apparently annoyed that I hadn’t immediately agreed. I stood up. “That’s alright. I already booked a hotel.” Her face darkened. “What is that supposed to mean? You’d rather stay in a hotel than at home? Is the couch beneath you now?” I picked up my coat and started toward the door. “I sleep better in my own bed.” Behind me, I heard my mother mutter to my father, “Ten years away, and her attitude’s out of control. Every single thing has to be a fight.” The door closed behind me. Ten years ago, the girl who spent that night on the couch would have cried into her pillow, unable to understand why her mother was kinder to other people’s daughters than to her own. The Hazel of ten years later doesn’t cry over that. The deposits kept coming in. Patent licensing fees. Equity distributions. Royalty payments. Each one trailed by so many zeros I’d stopped counting. She’d stopped needing anyone else to be good to her. She was good to herself. Generously.

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My roommate heard a rumor: the heir to a notorious Mafia family was looking for a girlfriend, and whoever got pregnant first would marry him. She was ecstatic, immediately posting on the campus anonymous forum to find a way to get close to him. As soon as the post went live, her Snapchat inbox was flooded with countless DMs—fake rumors, sketchy leads, and so-called “inside scoops.” But she didn’t care. She was too busy filtering the messages, desperately preparing to offer her body to the future “Don.” All of us in the dorm tried our best to talk some sense into her. We told her the rumor was completely made up. Risking her body and her entire future for a sketchy internet rumor was way too high a price to pay. Eventually, she seemed to give up on the idea and started attending classes quietly. But later, she found out that a girl from another department had used a similar tactic and actually got engaged to the “heir.” Blaming us for ruining her shot at becoming a billionaire’s wife, she snapped. In a fit of rage, she poisoned our shared Brita pitcher. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day she first told us she wanted to trap him with a pregnancy.

“I heard the heir to a Mafia family is choosing a girlfriend at our school, and whoever gets pregnant first gets to marry him! We have to find a way to get close to him!” Before the phantom pain of the poison in my stomach could even fade, Jessica’s voice pierced through my mind. Her voice got closer and louder, gradually becoming clear. I blinked in a daze, staring at Jessica’s familiar yet terrifying face. Seeing that none of the three of us were saying anything, she asked again, “This is our ticket into the high society! Do you guys want to try it with me?” It was exactly like my past life. A rumor about a mysterious “Mafia heir” picking a girlfriend on campus had somehow spread like wildfire among the girls. Dreaming of marrying rich, Jessica had been looking for ways to run into this “Don” ever since she heard the rumor. Staged run-ins, mutual connections… eventually, she became absolutely convinced of the “pregnancy first” rule and shared her master plan with us in excitement. In our past life, the three of us thought she had completely lost her mind. After all, no rational person would risk getting pregnant just because of some unverified gossip. So, we took turns trying to talk her down. We spent hours convincing her until she finally backed off. But who would have thought? A girl from the next class actually tried a similar stunt. Not only was she seen everywhere with the “heir,” but rumors soon spread that she had successfully gotten engaged after getting pregnant. Jessica believed our interference was the sole reason she missed her chance to marry into extreme wealth. In her rage, she poured poison into our Brita pitcher and watched cold-heartedly as the three of us died in agonizing pain. This time, I decided to respect her journey. I was the first to speak. “Honestly, guys like that are bad news. I’d rather stay far away. Count me out.” Maddy chimed in, “Yeah, getting pregnant over a rumor? Doesn’t seem worth it.” Hailey took a sip from her cup, shook her head, and didn’t say a word. Seeing that none of us were interested, Jessica let out a cold snort. She aggressively pulled her bed curtains shut and muttered under her breath, “Whatever. Don’t try to climb up when I become the Don’s wife. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I turned to look at the other two. In our past life, they definitely didn’t react like this. In the previous life, Maddy had grabbed Jessica’s hand, pleading with her that it wasn’t worth it, listing all the dangerous variables of that lifestyle. She had warned her about dangerous family politics, a life of constant fear, and how her future child would be dragged into a world of crime. Hailey had even pulled out her brand-new designer dress, suggesting that if Jessica wanted attention, she should focus on self-improvement first. But looking at their reactions today, my heart skipped a beat. Could it be… they regressed too? To test my theory, I winked at them. “I’m starving. Anyone want to grab lunch?” They exchanged a quick look, grabbed their phones, and nodded quickly. “Yeah, let’s go.” The three of us walked out of the dorm. Just as we were about to close the door, Jessica’s voice called out from behind the curtain, “Maddy, grab me a sandwich on your way back.” Maddy called back a quick agreement. Once we got to the dining hall and sat down with our food, the three of us just stared at each other across the table. “Are you…?” “You too?” “We regressed?” And just like that, you could see three girls crying their eyes out over college cafeteria food.

Before we could even finish our lunch, Hailey pulled out her phone and slid it across the table. Just like in our past life, Jessica had already posted on the campus anonymous forum, trying to dig up info on Cole Hawthorne’s schedule and preferences. *“Looking for leads: Want to know where senior Cole Hawthorne from the Business School usually hangs out. Heard some wild rumors about him lately and just want to make a friend. Willing to pay for solid info.”* The post looked harmless enough, but Jessica’s Snapchat DMs immediately blew up. People were sliding in with all kinds of leads, both real and fake. She was so proud of herself, bragging to us that so many people “helping her” meant everyone believed she actually had a shot. Well, obviously. People on campus love drama, especially when they can get paid for gossip. If I had known anything, I probably would’ve made a quick buck too. But Jessica didn’t see it that way. She enthusiastically compiled her “intel” on Cole as if she were a detective, comparing photos and analyzing his class schedule. She claimed she needed to know her future husband inside out to be responsible for her own life. Hilarious. She was planning to trap a guy with a pregnancy, yet she talked about being “responsible.” If Cole knew his daily schedule was being studied like a lab specimen, he’d probably lock himself in the library forever. As soon as we got back to the dorm, Jessica thrust her phone screen in front of our faces with a smug grin. “Look! So many people messaged me! If you guys want to try your luck, I can share some of this intel with you.” The three of us shook our heads in unison. “No, no, keep it all to yourself.” Jessica rolled her eyes. “Suit yourselves. You guys think you’re so pure and above it all. Just don’t get jealous of me later!” That night, Jessica finalized her “strike plan,” targeting the mysterious Cole Hawthorne. I only found out later that Cole was famous on campus for being elusive. The rumors about him being a Mafia heir were incredibly dramatic, though no one knew what was true. I wanted to see if, without our intervention in this life, she could actually “win” Cole over like she wanted. Since the semester had just started, our classes were in full swing. At first, Jessica walked to class with us, but soon, she started dressing up elaborately and going out at odd hours. When the RA did room checks, we made up excuses to cover for her. But doing it once or twice was fine; doing it every night made the RA suspicious. So, not even a month into the semester, Jessica got written up multiple times for curfew violations. She didn’t care at all. To her, she was working on a multi-million-dollar project. A few write-ups were just necessary sacrifices. After two weeks of her aggressive “operations,” Fall Break was just around the corner, yet Jessica still hadn’t found the perfect opportunity. She started getting desperate, constantly Googling “how to attract a man fast” and “how to get pregnant quickly.” Through her sheer determination, on a late September night, Jessica ran out of the bathroom holding a pregnancy test with two distinct pink lines. She screamed, “I’m pregnant! I’m actually pregnant with Cole’s baby!” She clutched the plastic stick to her chest like it was a holy relic. “Yes! I’m finally going to be the wife of a Mafia boss!”

During the one-week Fall Break, Maddy, Hailey, and I planned to work part-time jobs. Jessica was too unstable. In our past life, she poisoned us just because we tried to protect her. In this life, who knew what could trigger her? We needed to make some preparations before she completely lost her mind. Even though our part-time wages wouldn’t cover renting an apartment off-campus, having extra cash on hand always made us feel safer. Meanwhile, Jessica spent her break going to a private clinic to confirm her pregnancy and plotting how to make Cole take responsibility. Once Fall Break ended, campus life returned to normal. But for Jessica, a new war had just begun. Before the sun was even up, I was woken by Jessica’s voice on the phone. I listened with my eyes closed, half-asleep. I heard her sweet, cooing voice: “…Yeah, of course it’s yours. You’re the only one I’ve been with… The baby needs a father…” We found out later that she had literally cornered Cole on campus. In the afternoon, Jessica returned to the dorm, a smug, hollow smile plastered on her face. The three of us had just dragged ourselves back from the library, completely exhausted. Jessica looked at us, her lips curling into a sneer. “Weren’t you guys too good for my way of life? Look at you now, looking like half-dead dogs.” “My instincts are always right. Maddy, Hailey, Chloe—don’t say I never gave you a chance. If you apologize and help me out now, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of when I become the lady of the house.” Hailey collapsed into her chair. “Yeah, well, we don’t have the luck to enjoy that kind of life.” Maddy sprawled on her bed, her eyes full of exhaustion, but she forced a smile. “Oh, I’m sure your ‘blessings’ are coming right up.” Jessica looked at me. I just shook my head and whispered, “Congratulations.” Jessica began acting like she was already the “Mafia Queen,” even though Cole hadn’t publicly acknowledged her at all. She walked around with an exaggerated waddle, as if she were a delicate, high-society pregnant woman. Her eyes would sweep over the three of us with a look that clearly said, *“Look at you poor, average students. That’s what you get for not following my lead.”* As the midterm season approached, our academic load got incredibly heavy. We spent every waking hour in classes or the library. Hailey even complained that she didn’t have the energy to climb up to her top bunk. Jessica lay on her bed, scrolling through her phone, watching us with a mocking smile. “I thought you guys loved studying so much. Why do you look like you’re dying already?” “My man is so generous. Even though we’re keeping it low-key for now, just wait… Maddy, Hailey, Chloe, don’t say I didn’t offer you a ticket out of this.” Hailey groaned from her chair, “We really can’t handle that kind of luxury.” Maddy lay on her bed, eyes filled with despair, but muttered, “Let the storm rage on.” Jessica looked at me, and I shook my head. “No, thanks, Jess.”

Maddy’s sarcastic wish came true—Jessica’s demands only escalated. Early in the morning, she would snap at us to be quiet because “a pregnant woman needs her rest.” Lacking sleep, the three of us had bags under our eyes as we stuffed our heavy textbooks into our backpacks. “Hurry up! We’re going to be late!” I urged, and the three of us practically ran out the door. “This is literal torture,” Hailey grumbled. Even though we had survived her antics in our past life, dealing with it again was still incredibly frustrating. What normal pregnant woman had this much energy to play-act a wealthy housewife all day? Jessica sat in the room, popping imported snacks into her mouth one by one. I’ve always been clumsy. In both lives, I was the one who struggled to pack my things quickly. Seeing me scramble, Jessica burst into a mocking laugh. I clenched my jaw and ignored her. It was infuriating. Living with Jessica felt like every second was a year. We had to tiptoe around her “delicate emotions” every single day. Ever since she announced her pregnancy, we completely stopped trying to give her advice. We just avoided her. Though she complained about our coldness, she secretly loved seeing us “envious” of her, so she mostly stuck to bragging and throwing passive-aggressive shade. “Weren’t you guys looking down on my choices? Why are you studying yourselves to death now?” “If you had just listened to me and looked at the bigger picture, you wouldn’t have to suffer through these exams.” “Ugh, Chloe, what is that textbook? It smells so weird. Keep it away from me!” “You three, make sure you air out your stuff before bringing it into the room. I’m in a sensitive state right now. I can’t handle weird smells.” We swallowed our anger day after day, and finally, final exams arrived. Before finals week, the three of us booked a cheap hotel room near campus to study in peace. We got a full night of quiet sleep. Our bodies still ached from studying, but our minds were finally clear. Jessica’s morning sickness got worse. She would constantly bolt to the bathroom, followed by loud retching sounds. Naturally, she started ordering us around with even more authority. “Hailey, my husband sent me some high-grade bird’s nest soup. Go heat it up for me with some hot water.” “Maddy, go grab my silk robe from the balcony and hand-wash it.” “Chloe, when you go to the dining hall, grab me a nutritious meal. Salmon and shrimp. Make sure it’s fresh, I’m not picky.” But when we actually did what she asked, she would find reasons to complain. “Hailey! Why is this water so hot? You’re ruining the nutrients!” “Maddy, why is my robe so wrinkled? Did you even bother to iron it properly?” “Chloe, look at this fish! There are so many bones! How am I supposed to eat this?” Finally, the three of us snapped. “Are you out of your mind? We do you a favor and all we get is attitude? Do it yourself from now on! You’re pregnant, not paralyzed!” Jessica burst into tears. “I’m a pregnant woman! I’m going to be the wife of a billionaire! How can you talk to me like that?” “Besides, am I wrong? Pregnant women need proper nutrition! The fish does have bones, and the robe is wrinkled!” Jessica sobbed louder and louder, playing the ultimate victim as if the three of us were ganging up to bully her. Her crying attracted the girls from the neighboring dorms. They gathered at our door, whispering and taking Jessica’s side. “How can you guys be so heartless? She’s pregnant. They’re just simple requests. Can’t you roommates show some basic empathy?” “Seriously. She’s going to be a wealthy lady soon. Why not treat her better now?” Maddy was about to argue back, but I held her arm. I smiled at the crowd. “Since you guys have so much empathy and want to get close to future wealth so badly, why doesn’t Jessica move into your dorm?” “The three of us have terrible tempers, zero patience, and we don’t know how to take care of anyone. Jessica is just suffering here with us, which is bad for both her and the baby. Who wants to be a good Samaritan and take her in?” Suddenly, the hallway went dead silent. Everyone loves to play the hero when it doesn’t cost them anything.

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Three years after my biological parents brought me back to the Sterling mansion, I died of a painful illness. My soul floated in the air. I wanted to see how my family, who had always despised me, would regret their cruelty. But Arthur, my father, only shook his head and complained coldly, “He was always nothing but trouble.” Eleanor, my mother, pursed her lips and let out a sigh of relief, as if a heavy burden had finally been lifted. Victoria, my older sister, stood in front of Julian, protecting the adopted golden boy from seeing my pale, lifeless face. But Julian still pretended to be terrified, throwing himself into their arms, making the whole family rush to comfort him. I stared at them for a long time. Finally, I let out a self-deprecating laugh. When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the day I was first brought home. 1 Realizing I had traveled back in time, I sat in silence for a long while. Right in front of me, my biological parents had red, teary eyes. They were sobbing, telling me how much they had missed me and how guilty they felt for losing me ten years ago. They said they had searched for me for a whole decade. In my past life, my eyes had welled up with tears of gratitude. I had thrown myself into their arms, naively believing that I finally had a home. I thought someone finally loved me. But three years later, I would die alone in a freezing, dark apartment. My appendix ruptured, and because I didn’t get medical help in time, my heart stopped. Before dying, my fingers had clutched my phone. The last text message on my Snapchat was to my mother: “Mom, my stomach hurts so bad.” She never replied. No one in this family had ever loved me. So now, looking at them, my heart was completely numb. “Is Logan still adjusting? It’s okay. Let Mommy show you around our home first!” Seeing my silence, Eleanor took my hand and led me toward the dining room. Arthur followed with a warm smile. At the same time, he called Victoria on FaceTime, urging her to come home quickly for this family welcome dinner. Victoria only replied with one word: “Busy.” Arthur frowned. Eleanor quickly explained with an awkward smile, “Your sister is managing most of the family business now. She has a lot of business dinners. She’ll be back later.” In my past life, I believed her. In this life, I didn’t care anymore. If they wanted to play pretend, I would play along. We walked into the spacious, grand dining room. There were five chairs placed around the long mahogany table. The head of the table was naturally Arthur’s. Eleanor and Victoria’s seats were right next to him on one side. On the other side, the seat closest to Arthur was empty, with a sparkling new set of silver plates and forks. My gaze fell on that empty seat. It was the best seat at the table. It was closest to Arthur, and there was even a tall glass of freshly squeezed orange juice—something I had mentioned tasting once on the farm and loving. In my past life, I was immediately drawn to it. Believing my parents loved me, I had pulled out that chair without a second thought. I had desperately wanted to be close to my father. But when I did, my parents’ expressions changed instantly. They exchanged a tense look, and Eleanor quickly said with a forced smile, “Oh, Logan, I forgot to tell you. This is Julian’s usual seat.” “Julian is such a sweet boy. He actually insisted on giving up this seat for you. He said his big brother should have the best spot…” Back then, I had blinked, my heart swelling with gratitude. “My little brother gave up his seat for me? He’s so nice.” I had still wanted to sit there. I wanted to drink that orange juice. My parents exchanged another look, wanting to say something but stopping themselves. Blind by their fake warmth, I had already sat down, my hand touching the cold glass of juice. Right at that moment, Julian walked down the grand spiral staircase. 2 Julian was the same age as me—fifteen. But he was much more mature, not innocent and naive like I was. Seeing me in his seat, his lips twitched slightly. Then, he forced a bright, easy smile. “I heard Logan was back, so I finished my tutoring session early. Logan, do you like this seat? Please, take it.” After saying that, he bit his lower lip and looked away, looking incredibly hurt. My parents caught every single detail of his act. Eleanor quickly rushed over and pulled my arm. “Logan, let’s sit over here instead. This seat… Julian is used to it. You might not feel comfortable here.” “Why wouldn’t I be comfortable?” I had been so confused. I had also felt the weird, suffocating tension in the room. But back then, how could a naive boy like me understand what was actually going on? My parents had cried for me. They said they missed me. Julian had offered the seat himself. I was their biological son. Was I not even allowed to choose a seat I liked? So, I had looked at them with a face full of questions. Eleanor’s expression soured. She swallowed her words. Arthur’s face grew stern, and he remained silent. Julian walked over and pulled out the chair next to mine. “Logan, just sit here. This house belongs to you anyway. You can sit wherever you want.” I eventually sat down. On the foster farm, I only knew how to handle dirty pots, pans, and mud. In this high-society mansion, I knew nothing. I knew absolutely nothing about rich-family dining etiquette. So, I genuinely didn’t understand what I had done wrong. Just as I picked up my fork, my hand was slammed down by Victoria, who had just rushed home. She looked exhausted from work, but the moment she walked in, she glared at me. “Who allowed you to sit there?” she snapped. “That is Julian’s seat. Do you have no manners at all?” I froze, completely shocked. Not just because it was my first time meeting my older sister. But because… why was I the one with no manners? Didn’t Julian tell me to sit here? Terrified, I looked at my parents. My parents looked uncomfortable. Victoria spoke first. “Mom, Dad, what were you thinking? This is Julian’s seat. If you keep spoiling Logan like this, you’re going to break Julian’s heart!” “Well…” My parents looked extremely conflicted, not knowing what to say. But I was sharp enough to catch the flash of disgust in Eleanor’s eyes. She was looking at me. I froze. I knew that look too well. My abusive foster father used to look at me the exact same way. My mother was angry at me. It turned out that I really was the bad guy—the rude intruder who stole other people’s things. 3 That “rude” boy had shrunk into the furthest corner of the dining table in my past life, enduring meal after meal of silent rejection. And in the end, he died alone in agonizing pain. How incredibly stupid. In this life, I wouldn’t be stupid anymore. In this life, I wouldn’t fight for anything. I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t throw tantrums, and most importantly, I would never love them again. I let out a faint smile and pointed to the very end of the long dining table—the seat furthest away from Arthur. “I’ll sit there.” My parents froze. A wave of relief washed over their faces, but Eleanor still put on a show. “That’s where the servants serve the food. Why would you sit there? Pick another spot.” “I like the edge. It feels more comfortable.” My voice carried a hint of self-deprecation. My parents sighed and quickly agreed. Just like that, they happily let their biological son—whom they had lost for ten years—sit at the absolute edge of the family table. Julian, the adopted favorite, smoothly sat back down in his “exclusive” seat. He glanced at me, his face blank. He thought I didn’t know. He had deliberately placed my favorite orange juice in front of his seat to lure me into a trap. From my very first meal back home, I had fallen right into his trap. He spent three years fighting me for our parents’ attention, and in the end, he won a total victory. But I had paid with my life to learn one simple truth: If you want to be loved, you have to love yourself first. I finished my dinner in silence and went up to the bedroom they had prepared for me. Julian came up, holding the untouched glass of orange juice. “Logan, I had this juice made specifically for you. You should drink it.” “I’m not thirsty. Thanks,” I replied through the closed door, pulling out my old, worn-out textbooks from the farm. The moment I was reborn, I had a plan. I was going to love myself. And for me right now, the best way to do that was to study hard, get into a good college, and become independent. “Does Logan hate me… I guess it makes sense. I’m the one who took over his life…” Julian whimpered softly outside my door. He seemed to be talking to me, but I knew he was targeting our parents, who were walking by. As expected, they were nearby. Eleanor immediately comforted him, “Your brother is just shy, Julian. Don’t overthink it.” Arthur added, “Julian, don’t worry. In this family, you will always be our son.” But they forgot. I was their actual son. 4 After a quick nap, the massive mansion had gone completely quiet. The maid, Mrs. Gable, told me that Julian wanted a limited-edition cake from the west side of the city, so Arthur and Eleanor had personally driven out to get it for him. “Oh,” I replied. That was fine. I began sorting through the welcome gifts. These were things my parents and relatives had given me when I returned. Aside from some cash, there were some expensive-looking designer jewelry pieces and a luxury watch. I was going to sell them all. I knew my future in this house would be miserable. Cash was the only real shield I had. I wasn’t familiar with this city, but I remembered a highly reputable pawn shop near the apartment I lived in during my past life. I knew that neighborhood like the back of my hand. When I walked into the luxury pawn shop, a tall, elegant woman in a tailored designer suit was walking out, with the shop manager bowing politely beside her. I stopped. It was my sister, Victoria Sterling. In this life, this was our very first meeting. But she recognized me—after all, she had seen photos and videos of me. She looked me up and down, her eyes landing on the velvet jewelry box in my hand. Her voice was cold. “Logan?” “Yeah,” I replied. The manager’s eyes lit up, and he immediately became extremely polite to me. “Oh! Is this young man related to you, Ms. Sterling? Are you looking to sell something? I can give you a great deal…” Victoria frowned, looking highly annoyed. “It’s none of your business. Go back to work.” The manager quickly bowed and backed away. Victoria turned back to me, her eyes filled with disgust. “You just got home. Why are you hanging around a place like this?” “To get some cash.” I answered honestly. “Cash? With the gifts the family gave you?” Victoria let out a mocking laugh. “I thought you would cherish them. When Julian receives gifts, he displays them like treasures.” I didn’t argue. Victoria sneered. “So young, yet so materialistic. Let me remind you, Logan. You can do whatever you want with your own trash, but don’t bring family heirlooms here to embarrass us.” She was exactly the same as in my past life. During my first week home, a family heirloom brooch had gone missing. Victoria had immediately accused me of stealing and selling it. She believed I was a classless, greedy thief. I didn’t expect that in this life, before the brooch even went missing, Victoria had already branded me a thief. But I didn’t care. I didn’t need to defend myself. I just wanted my money. Victoria let out another cold snort, turned on her heels, and walked away. That evening, my parents and Julian were all in the living room. They were looking at brochures to choose a school for me. Every single pamphlet was for an elite, ultra-private academy. I cut straight to the chase. “I don’t want to go to these schools. I want to go to Oakridge Central High.” A public high school. Finish high school, get into a university far away, and leave this family forever—that was my plan. I didn’t want the title of “Sterling’s rich heir.” My parents looked shocked. Julian quickly hid the joy in his eyes and said, “Logan, families like ours don’t usually go to public schools. We all go Ivy League or study abroad later.” “Yes, Logan. You should go to Lakeside Academy with Julian. We will arrange your entire future,” Eleanor said, patting my hand gently. Arthur’s eyes flickered. He was calculating something. I knew exactly what he was calculating. In my past life, I had gone to that elite private academy. I became “famous” overnight. Not because of my grades, but because I was a total outcast. A dirty kid from a foster farm, forced to sit with heirs and heiresses who had been groomed for high society since birth. I stood out like a sore thumb. Once people found out I was the long-lost Sterling heir, crowds of bullies came to mock me. They laughed at my terrible posture, my cheap clothes, and my complete lack of manners. To make things worse, Julian had secretly fueled the fire. He got everyone to isolate me and even set up a girl to pretend to like me. Once I fell for her, she leaked all our Snapchat chats, where I had poured out all my insecurities. I became the laughingstock of the entire elite circle. I ruined the Sterling family’s reputation. Back then, Arthur was so furious that he had slapped me across the face, sending me crashing to the floor. “I should have never sent you to Lakeside! I knew you’d embarrass us! You have dragged our family name through the mud!” Arthur cared about nothing but his reputation, and I had destroyed it. Right now, Arthur was only thinking about his precious reputation. Julian brought him pride. What did I bring? “I only want to go to public school. Please send me to Oakridge Central High,” I said firmly. Eleanor wanted to argue, but Arthur cut her off. “Fine, fine. Let the boy choose. Since we love him, we shouldn’t force him.” I almost laughed out loud. But I held it in. The laugh died in my throat, turning into a cold, heavy silence in my heart.

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On the night my boyfriend confessed his love to me, he gave me a jar containing ninety-nine origami wishing stars. He told me he had seen our future and wanted to make a promise. “Look, El. I’ll trade these ninety-nine wishing stars for ninety-nine free passes. If I ever mess up, you have to forgive me. Deal?” At that time, head over heels in love, I agreed without hesitation. But later, he seemed to have forgotten all about it, too busy sleeping with his assistant. Until there was only one wishing star left in the jar. As my pen hovered over the divorce papers, a familiar voice echoed in my ears. It was nineteen-year-old Ethan. With a choked voice, he whispered, “El, you promised me, didn’t you? In the jar… there’s still one last star left, right?” My phone buzzed with a Snapchat notification from Ethan’s assistant, Chloe. *“Mrs. Vance, Ethan said he’d rather I accompany him to the charity gala tonight. You don’t mind, do you?”* Attached below was a photo. Around Chloe’s neck was a brand-new version of the custom necklace Ethan had given me years ago—now encrusted with diamonds, sparkling brilliantly under the lights. It was at this exact moment that I finally realized: the Ethan of today was no longer the Ethan I once loved. We started with nothing. To fuel his startup dreams, I worked day and night, pouring every single penny I earned into his first project. For seven years, I worked myself to exhaustion, falling asleep on the subway, surviving on cold coffee and energy drinks, and landing in the ER with stress-induced stomach ulcers. That was how we finally built our company from scratch. And Ethan finally succeeded in the business world, becoming the powerful Mr. Vance whom everyone feared and respected. But the things we once dreamed of accomplishing together, he ultimately chose to do with his assistant. I didn’t hesitate any longer. I drafted the divorce papers. Just as the tip of my pen was about to touch the paper, a sudden, ghostly voice rang out next to me. “El, please don’t… there’s still one star left in the jar. You promised to give me one last chance.” Hearing that familiar voice, my entire body trembled. I turned my head. Nineteen-year-old Ethan was standing right beside me. His figure was faint, translucent, and he was wearing the simple white shirt I had bought him with my part-time tutoring money. He looked exactly like he did in my most cherished memories. I looked at him, and a bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. “Okay. Just one last chance.” Suddenly, my phone rang. “Eleanor! Chloe said the diamond necklace she was supposed to wear tonight suddenly went missing. You must have stolen it after the charity auction last time!” “Bring your old one to the gala right now. I don’t care how you do it, but I want to see that necklace around Chloe’s neck in thirty minutes!” I pressed the speakerphone, and Ethan’s cold, demanding voice echoed through the quiet room. I looked at the nineteen-year-old Ethan beside me. His fists were clenched tight, his young body rigid with anger. “How could he accuse you like that…” But on the other end of the line, twenty-seven-year-old Ethan’s voice grew even colder. “The gala starts at eight. Get moving now.” The nineteen-year-old Ethan reached out and swiped the screen, hanging up the phone. I said softly, “That’s the ninety-ninth time, Ethan. The very last wishing star.” I drove to the luxury hotel where the gala was being held. The grand ballroom was dazzling, filled with wealthy guests chatting and laughing. I spotted Ethan immediately—he was holding Chloe’s waist, talking smoothly with several business tycoons. Chloe was wearing a stunning burgundy gown, but her neck was bare. I walked up to them. Ethan turned around, his brows instantly knitting together. “Why are you dressed like that?” he whispered sharply, looking at my simple casual clothes with clear irritation. Chloe said softly, “Ethan, don’t blame Eleanor. She probably didn’t have time to change into a gown…” Ethan cut her off, looking directly at me. “Where is the necklace?” I pulled the small velvet box from my bag. A flash of smugness crossed Chloe’s eyes. She reached out to take it. “Thank you so much, Eleanor. I’m just borrowing it for tonight…” Just as her fingers were about to touch the box, I let go. The velvet box hit the ground. The necklace slid out, making a sharp clinking sound against the polished marble floor. “Eleanor!” Ethan growled. Several nearby guests turned to look at us. Nineteen-year-old Ethan stood by my side, his eyes instantly turning red. “El, don’t… that’s the necklace I gave you…” But twenty-seven-year-old Ethan barked, “Pick it up!” I looked down at the necklace on the floor. It had rested against my heart for seven years, keeping me company through every dark, difficult night. When Ethan made his first major profit, he had held this very necklace and told me: *“El, when I make it big, I’m going to buy you a diamond one.”* He did buy one. But the diamond one was meant for Chloe’s neck—though it had “disappeared” tonight. What a coincidence. “No need,” I said, turning on my heel. “I don’t want the one on the floor anymore.” “Eleanor!” Chloe whimpered behind me, her voice cracking. “Please don’t be mad. It’s all my fault…” ***

As I walked out of the ballroom, nineteen-year-old Ethan rushed to follow me, gently tugging at my sleeve. His fingers felt ice-cold, and his voice was thick with tears. “El… the wishing star… let’s use it to get the necklace back, okay?” “That’s our necklace… the one I saved up to buy you…” I looked into his clear, bright eyes—they were filled with the absolute sincerity and heartbreaking pain of a nineteen-year-old boy. “If we use it, the jar will be empty,” I said. “This is your last chance.” He nodded without a second thought, tears welling up in his eyes. I fell silent for a moment, then turned back toward the ballroom. Peeking through the cracked door, I saw Chloe leaning close to Ethan’s ear, whispering something. Her hand was playfully sliding down his tie, her body pressed entirely against his. Ethan was laughing. It was a laugh I used to know so well—full of indulgence and affection. The nineteen-year-old Ethan beside me froze completely, his face turning pale as a sheet. I pushed the door open. The two of them instantly pulled apart. A flicker of panic crossed Ethan’s face, quickly replaced by annoyance. “Why are you back again?” I didn’t say a word. I walked straight up to them. Chloe’s high heel was stepping right on the chain of my necklace. “Excuse me,” I said coldly. Chloe shrank back slightly toward Ethan, her voice turning incredibly soft. “Eleanor, please don’t misunderstand. I was just comforting Ethan… he was really stressed out…” Ethan grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it hurt. “Apologize to Chloe.” I looked into his eyes, then looked at the nineteen-year-old version of him. The nineteen-year-old Ethan’s lips trembled. He couldn’t speak, only shook his head desperately. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly. Then I bent down and pulled the necklace out from under Chloe’s shoe. The delicate chain now had several deep, ugly scratches, looking incredibly battered under the bright lights. “Oh, Eleanor, I am so, so sorry…” Chloe murmured, but I clearly saw the fleeting, triumphant smirk on her face. I didn’t look at either of them again. Clutching the scratched necklace in my hand, I turned and left the ballroom. This time, I didn’t look back. Walking down the long hotel corridor, nineteen-year-old Ethan walked silently beside me. Only when we reached the parking lot did he speak, his voice raspy. “El… tomorrow…” “I know,” I interrupted. “Tomorrow is the day we promised to get engaged.” His eyes lit up for a fraction of a second, then quickly dimmed. “Six years ago, on our first anniversary,” I said softly, “you said that no matter if we were rich or poor, on Valentine’s Day six years later, you would propose to me.” “Where?” he asked, his voice filled with cautious hope. “The place we first met,” I said. “The park near campus.” Nineteen-year-old Ethan’s eyes filled with tears, and he blinked hard to keep them from falling. “Will you go?” he asked. “Yes,” I said. “I will be there, and you will be there too.” He looked like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he only gently squeezed my hand—though I couldn’t feel any physical warmth from him. That night, I put the scratched necklace into my bedside drawer. The damage on the chain was painfully visible under the lamp. Nineteen-year-old Ethan sat on the edge of my bed, watching me for a very long time. Finally, he said, “El, do you know how I’m able to see the future?” I didn’t answer. “The night you confessed to me, I made a wish upon a shooting star to see our future,” he whispered. “But my mind can’t retain the details. I won’t remember everything until midnight tomorrow.” “So tomorrow night,” he looked at me, a tear finally sliding down his cheek, “he is going to regret this so much.” “But his regret is going to be too late, isn’t it?” I remained silent. Outside the window, the city lights burned endlessly into the night. ***

However, none of us expected that twenty-seven-year-old Ethan would actually show up at that park. But he wasn’t there to keep his promise to me. “Eleanor! You actually tracked me here? Wow, you’re unbelievable!” The park meadow where we had once promised to get engaged was now beautifully decorated. Fairy lights hung from the trees, a white marquee tent was pitched on the grass, and a champagne tower sparkled in the twilight. And in the center of the crowd stood twenty-seven-year-old Ethan. Even when he saw me, he didn’t let go of Chloe’s hand. *Ninety-nine chances are officially gone, Ethan. I just burned the last wishing star.* I whispered to myself. Beside me, nineteen-year-old Ethan pulled at my sleeve in absolute despair. “El… El, please don’t be like this. Maybe… maybe he set this all up for you. Let’s go closer and see, okay?” His young voice was practically begging. But the twenty-seven-year-old Ethan’s voice was ice-cold. “Eleanor, get over here right now!” I turned my head and gave nineteen-year-old Ethan a gentle, comforting look, then stepped forward. “Eleanor! What more do you want?” Ethan demanded angrily the moment I approached. “You ruined Chloe’s necklace, and I let it go. Now, just because I’m throwing her a birthday party at the place we first met to make up for it, you’re here to ruin that too?!” “Not at all,” I replied smoothly. “I just came to visit an old spot. If you don’t mind, I’ll find a place to sit by myself.” I shrugged, looking completely indifferent. Ethan seemed choked by my calm reaction, his face twisting in frustration. Ignoring him, I took nineteen-year-old Ethan’s cold hand and led him to a wooden bench nearby. I whispered comforting words to him, but the boy just kept his head down, his shoulders shaking slightly as he wept silently. Seeing that I wasn’t causing a scene, twenty-seven-year-old Ethan finally let his guard down. He even went so far as to openly hold Chloe close, murmuring sweet nothings in her ear. Watching them, my heart felt completely numb. I simply held nineteen-year-old Ethan’s cold, weightless hand. As time ticked by, night fell completely. As Valentine’s Day drew to a close, a fleet of drones took to the sky, spelling out “Happy Birthday” in glowing letters. The fairy lights illuminated the entire meadow, turning it into a dreamland. I reached into my bag and pulled out a watch I had prepared long ago. Inside the case, a small inscription was engraved: *“To Ethan—May our time always be in sync. El, Feb 14.”* I handed the watch to nineteen-year-old Ethan and said softly, “Ethan, would you marry me?” His nineteen-year-old eyes blinked hard, trying desperately to hold back his tears. “Are… are you still willing to marry me?” “Of course. I will always love the version of you that stands before me right now.” I looked into his eyes with absolute sincerity. The light in his young eyes was the only thing I had ever truly loved. After what felt like an eternity, he nodded vigorously. He reached out and gently slid the scratched necklace back around my neck. “El, I do. I do.” I smiled, my heart feeling a strange sense of peace, and squeezed his hand. And at that exact moment… The midnight bells began to toll. Nineteen-year-old Ethan began to dissolve into countless glowing specks of light, vanishing right before my eyes. My tears finally broke free, cascading down my face. “Goodbye, my beloved Ethan.” Right then, a sharp, mocking female voice rang out from behind me. “Ethan, look at Eleanor. She looks so pathetic sitting there all alone, talking to thin air. I’m so glad I have you by my side.” I turned around. Sometime during the countdown, Chloe had led Ethan right behind me. Standing at an angle where Ethan couldn’t see, her face was twisted in a triumphant sneer. But Ethan was staring at me, tears streaming silently down his face. ***

I gave them a cold, blank stare, turned around, and walked away. The nineteen-year-old Ethan was never coming back, and I had absolutely no reason to have anything to do with these two ever again. But before I could take two steps, Ethan’s voice cracked behind me. “El… wait. Don’t go.” Perhaps because that old nickname still held a tiny bit of weight in my heart, I actually stopped to see what else he could possibly say. Seeing me stop, a look of desperate hope flashed across Ethan’s face. “El, I’m sorry. I forgot… I forgot everything. I’ll have them plan a proposal right now, okay?” “El, I was wrong. Please, forgive me.” His words only made me want to laugh. It was pathetic. Even while begging for my forgiveness, his hand was still holding Chloe’s. Noticing my gaze, he seemed to realize what he was doing and quickly flung Chloe’s hand away. Ethan tried to run after me, but Chloe grabbed his arm, whispering something to him, making him hesitate and halt his steps. I didn’t care what he did or said anymore. The moment nineteen-year-old Ethan disappeared, my connection to this man was severed forever. When I got home, I lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. To be honest, ending a seven-year relationship like this… no matter how strong you try to be, there is always going to be an empty ache in your chest. After staring at the ceiling for an hour, I remembered that I hadn’t signed the divorce papers yet. I got out of bed, flipped to the last page, and signed my name. I would let my lawyer handle the rest tomorrow. Since Ethan was now a multi-millionaire, and I didn’t want a single penny of his assets, getting a quick divorce would be incredibly easy. Thinking of this, I sat back in my chair and let out a long sigh. On my desk was a photo of Ethan and me from college. Whenever I used to feel exhausted and ready to give up, I would look at this photo to find my strength. In the photo, we were wearing cheap, simple clothes, with no fancy jewelry or expensive watches. But we looked so genuinely happy. Now, we had all the money in the world to do whatever we wanted, but our love was completely dead. I had personally designed this entire house exactly the way Ethan had once dreamed of. A cozy bedroom in warm tones, a minimalist modern living room. And countless little decorative pieces we had talked about years ago. But after we bought the house, the number of times Ethan actually came home could be counted on one hand. I used to tell myself he was just too busy with work and that I needed to be understanding. Now I realized he had plenty of time—he just chose to spend it with Chloe. Thinking about how hard I had worked over the last seven years without taking a single day off, a sudden wave of energy washed over me. “Why am I sitting here crying? I have my own money now. I should go enjoy my life!” I muttered to myself. On an impulse, I booked a flight to Bora Bora departing in two hours. I packed my bags packed in less than thirty minutes, locked up, and drove to the airport. Before leaving, I changed the passcode to our smart lock. Ethan had plenty of penthouses to stay in anyway; he didn’t need this house. Just as my car pulled out of the driveway, a heavily drunk Ethan stumbled up to the front door.

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A new neighbor moved in across the hall. She was a fresh graduate from an elite university. On her very first night, she knocked on my door at midnight. “Ms. Vance, your footsteps are too loud at night. There’s a strict quiet-hours policy after 10 PM. You shouldn’t be walking around so freely.” I stood there, completely stunned, but I still managed to politely tell her that I’d keep it down. Half an hour later, she knocked again. “Your AC unit is facing my bedroom window. It’s blowing hot air right into my room. You need to move it or shut it off by tomorrow.” I had officially lost my patience. I slammed the door in her face. I thought that would be the end of it. But the next morning, I received a formal Cease-and-Desist letter from her lawyer. 0 “Did you get it?” A young, calm, and slightly arrogant female voice came through the phone. I squeezed the legal letter in my hand, the sharp edges of the paper digging painfully into my palm. “Audrey Sterling, what is the meaning of this?” “It’s simple,” she said slowly. “Ms. Vance, I’m just letting you know that you are actively disrupting my life.” “A thirty-page report? A cease-and-desist? Just because I walked inside my own apartment and turned on my AC?” I could barely believe my ears. “It’s called noise and thermal pollution,” she corrected me. “Pay me for emotional distress, renovate your apartment according to my standards, and I might consider not taking this to court.” I let out a cold laugh. “And if I say no?” “Then I’ll see you in court.” “I will also post copies of this report all over the building.” “I’ll make sure every single neighbor knows exactly what kind of person you are.” She hung up. Listening to the dial tone, my head throbbed. I’m thirty years old, and this was the first time I’d ever met someone so ridiculously delusional. I opened the PDF report she had sent me on Snapchat. Title: *A Detailed Investigation into the Noise and Thermal Pollution Caused by Neighbor Valerie Vance.* My god. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think this was a scientific paper published by some top research institute. The details inside were even more mind-blowing. “Issue 1: The sound of your door closing is too loud, causing potential hearing damage to your neighbors.” “Issue 2: Your kitchen vents exhaust air into the common hallway, polluting the shared atmosphere.” “Issue 3: Your Wi-Fi signal is too strong, interfering with my electronic devices.” … Every single bullet point was accompanied by charts and data measured by various professional instruments. I took a deep breath and called our HOA office. “Mr. Higgins, have you guys dealt with the new neighbor across from me yet?” The manager’s tone was incredibly strained. “Ms. Vance… you mean… Ms. Sterling?” “She was out in the hallway today with a lawyer and a couple of technicians. They were measuring decibels, taking photos, and recording when everyone opens and closes their doors. She said she’s making a ‘Neighbor Impact Report’ for the whole building.” “The community Snapchat group is absolutely blowing up right now!” My mind went blank. This wasn’t just ridiculous. This girl was out of her mind.

“Ms. Vance, how do you want to handle this…?” I rubbed my temples. “I got it. I’ll deal with her.” After hanging up, I sent Audrey a text: [Tomorrow morning at 10 AM. Let’s talk face-to-face in the hallway.] She replied instantly: [Be there. Don’t play any games.] I stared at the last four words, almost cracking my new phone screen. The next morning, I didn’t bring anyone with me. I stood outside my door, waiting for her alone. Her door opened. Audrey stepped out wearing a crisp white dress and gold-rimmed glasses. She looked sophisticated, but she carried an undeniable air of arrogance. Standing right behind her was the lawyer who had threatened me on the phone yesterday. “Ms. Vance, where is your lawyer?” Audrey pushed her glasses up, her eyes scanning me with judgment. “I don’t need a lawyer to deal with you,” I said, staying put at my doorway. The lawyer stepped forward and handed me a thick folder. “Ms. Vance, these are the official demands of my client, Ms. Audrey Sterling.” “First, you will compensate Ms. Sterling $15,000 for emotional distress, lost wages, and inspection fees.” “Second, you will completely renovate your apartment according to this checklist. The estimated cost is around $20,000.” “Third, you will sign this ‘Good Neighbor Agreement’ and strictly follow the designated quiet hours and appliance usage rules.” “That’s $35,000 total, plus long-term compliance with our rules. Sign here if you agree.” I took the list and skimmed through it. “Install soundproof mats across the entire floor.” “Replace all windows with triple-glazed acoustic glass.” “Relocate the AC unit to the rooftop with a noise-muffling cover.” “Kitchen use is restricted to 7-8 AM and 6-7 PM.” “No dishwashers or washing machines to be run after 10 PM.” I let out a sharp laugh and slapped the paper against the wall. “Audrey, do you honestly think I’m some kind of pushover?” Audrey took a slow step toward me, looking down her nose at me. “Ms. Vance, I’m simply enforcing the rules.” “Rules?” “Yes. In this society, rules are everything.” She tapped her temple. “And I happen to know the rules better than anyone. I know exactly how to use them.” She smiled, a smug expression of intellectual superiority that she didn’t bother to hide. “I forgot to mention, I graduated from Yale Law. I specialized in Tort Law and Property Disputes.” “No lawyer you hire can save you from this.” “Just pay up and do the renovations. Otherwise, you’ll end up with a court judgment and a ruined credit score.” The lawyer chimed in right on cue. “Ms. Vance, Ms. Sterling’s report is backed by solid evidence. If we go to trial, you will lose.” Watching the two of them tag-team me was actually starting to get amusing. Just then, Audrey’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID, and her arrogant demeanor instantly melted into a sweet, childlike voice. “Hey, Mom.” “Yeah, I’m talking to the neighbor right now. Honestly, she’s a bit slow, but it’s fine. I already had my lawyer send the letter.” “Don’t worry, she can’t beat me. She’ll have her place fully renovated to my standards in no time, and she’s going to pay us for it.” “Once you and Dad move in, you’ll have absolute peace and quiet.” She hung up and looked at me triumphantly. “Did you hear that? I’m doing all of this for my parents.” “So yes, I know I’m in the right.”

Now I finally understood. She wasn’t doing all of this for herself. She wanted me to spend my own money and effort to soundproof my apartment so her parents would have a perfectly quiet “sanctuary” when they moved in. “Ms. Vance, have you made up your mind?” the lawyer pressed. I stared at Audrey, speaking slowly. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve already posted your little ‘report’ in the community Snapchat group, haven’t you?” Audrey shrugged, pretending to be innocent. “I was just raising awareness. After all, noise and heat pollution affect everyone.” My phone started buzzing like crazy. Texts from Mr. Higgins, a few friendly neighbors, and even the local HOA board members were piling in. They were all asking if I was really causing that much trouble in the building. Audrey saw my screen lighting up, and her smirk grew wider. “See that? That’s the power of the rules. Public opinion alone can ruin you.” She leaned against her doorframe, crossing her legs. “I’ll give you one last chance. Sign the paper, and we can still be good neighbors.” “Otherwise, I don’t mind making this a local news story. I can easily get a couple of local blogs to run a piece on the ‘Neighbor from Hell.’” “I don’t think you want to be famous in this town, do you?” Every word she said was testing the absolute limits of my patience. I looked at her incredibly smug face. I was genuinely curious what kind of family could raise someone so self-centered. I pulled out my phone and started recording right in front of her. “Audrey, are you sure you want to go to war with me over this?” She laughed, as if I had just said something hilarious. “It’s not just ‘this.’ It’s $35,000 and my peace of mind. Can’t you do the math, Ms. Vance?” “And besides, it’s about principle.” She adjusted her glasses, a cold glint in her eyes. “I want to make sure you realize that being inconsiderate comes with a very steep price.” “Very well.” I stopped the recording and turned around. “I hear your demands. I’ll give you my answer in three days.” With that, I unlocked my door. “Ms. Vance, are you trying to buy time?” Audrey yelled after me. “It won’t work! My lawyer has all the paperwork ready. We can file the lawsuit at any moment.” I didn’t look back. I shut the door and took a long, deep breath. The sun was shining bright outside, but I felt incredibly cold. I sat on my sofa, not doing anything immediately. Instead, I let myself think. Going head-to-head with her in a standard shouting match wouldn’t work. Audrey was stubborn and impossible to reason with. She used the law as a weapon and public opinion as a shield. She thought she was invincible. To deal with someone like her, I couldn’t use normal methods. I needed to find her weakness. The one weak spot that would completely break her.

I didn’t stay home. Instead, I grabbed my keys and drove straight to campus. State University. My office was located in the Law Department. I am Dr. Valerie Vance, a tenured professor of law and a core board member of a highly prestigious federal research fellowship. Because I rarely participate in public events and spend most of my time doing academic research and mentoring post-grads, it was completely normal that Audrey didn’t recognize me. As soon as I sat down in my office, my colleague Professor Harrison’s assistant knocked on the door. “Dr. Vance, Professor Harrison wanted me to bring over the applications for this year’s research fellowship. He said we need your final approval on the candidates.” “Thanks.” I took the folder. This fellowship was heavily funded by the federal government and carried immense weight in the legal community. Countless top-tier graduates applied every year, and Professor Harrison and I had to personally vet each one. I flipped through the list of candidates, scanning their resumes. Then, my fingers stopped on page three. A name jumped out at me. Audrey Sterling. Undergrad: Yale Law. Proposed Advisor: Professor Harrison. Research Focus: Community Governance and Property Rights. Initial Review Note: *Excellent academic background. Highly recommended for the final round.* I looked at the name and couldn’t help but smile. Talk about walking right into my hands. Even better, the lawyer she hired, Marcus Finch, had presented a paper at an academic conference last year. I had publicly called him out for fabricating data, utterly humiliating him in front of the entire state bar association. So, a candidate trying to get into a program I co-directed was actively harassing me at home, accompanied by a lawyer who held a massive grudge against me? I picked up my phone and dialed Audrey’s number. “Hello,” she answered, her voice still dripping with superiority. “Audrey, it’s Valerie. Have you decided to sign?” “I told you, I’ll give you my answer in three days,” I said, my voice completely flat. “Oh, so you need time to cry about it?” She chuckled. “I knew a regular person like you couldn’t handle the pressure.” “Tell you what, I’ll give you a break.” “Tomorrow morning, bring the signed agreement to my door. And make sure you have a better attitude.” I smiled. “Sure.” “Tomorrow morning, 10 AM, in the hallway.” I pronounced every word clearly. “I will personally give you my answer.” The next morning, I opened my door right on time. Audrey and her lawyer were already waiting in the hallway, both wearing smug, victorious grins. “Ms. Vance, glad to see you’ve made the smart choice,” the lawyer spoke first, holding out a pen and the agreement. Audrey was leaning against the wall, casually sipping a cup of coffee. “Good. If you had just done this from the start, we could have avoided all this drama.” “Sign it, and you can start the renovations today.” “Oh, and since my parents are older, you’ll also need to pay for a private nurse for them. We’ll send you the monthly bill.” “As for me, you need to hire a maid to clean my apartment twice a day.” “You will completely adapt your life to our standards. My parents demand absolute silence when they move in.” “Aren’t you worried that I might be your superior one day?” I interrupted her calmly. “You?” Audrey scoffed, looking at me with pure disdain. “With your lifestyle?” She actually laughed out loud. “Do you even know who my fellowship advisor is going to be? Professor Harrison! He is a living legend in the legal world! You wouldn’t even qualify to be his research assistant!” “Look at yourself. You don’t look academic at all.” “Stop dreaming, lady.” I raised an eyebrow and ignored her insults. Instead, I reached into my leather briefcase, pulled out her printed fellowship application, and held it up. I tapped my finger right on her name and her application details. “Audrey Sterling.” The smile on Audrey’s face froze instantly. She straightened up, her eyes glued to the document in my hand. “Where… where did you get that?” Her voice began to tremble. The lawyer leaned in to look, and his face instantly turned paper-white. He clearly recognized me now. I leaned against my doorframe, crossing my arms, enjoying the view. “Audrey Sterling. Applying for the Harrison Law Fellowship, focusing on ‘Community Governance.’ You passed the initial review.” I smiled and introduced myself. “I forgot to mention. I’m Dr. Valerie Vance. I am a tenured professor at State University, and I am the co-director and head evaluator of the fellowship program you just applied to.” “According to the program’s rules, no matter which advisor you want, you cannot be admitted without my final signature.” “To put it simply, your entire academic future is in my hands.”

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My client had a sudden heart attack, so I immediately performed CPR and gave him rescue breaths. My husband actually posted the video of the emergency rescue on SnapChat with the caption: “I know you were saving a life, but kissing another man in front of so many people? Do you have any shame?” “How could you even bring yourself to touch lips with a man that old? You became the Sales Champion because of these cheap, dirty tricks, didn’t you?” The post quickly went viral on TikTok and Ins, and the company chose to sweep the scandal under the rug. I was stripped of my annual bonus, and my promotion went to someone else. Seeing how my dedication to my clients was dragged through the mud and branded as “sleeping my way to the top,” I requested my accumulated PTO that very day. To my surprise, the CEO called me herself the very next day, begging me to come back. “Summer, you need to learn a lesson from this. You’re a married woman. You need to think about boundaries and how your actions affect your marriage!” I looked at him calmly, looking at the man I had married. “Are you done?” Ethan froze. “What… what kind of attitude is that? You still don’t think you did anything wrong?” “Whatever.” When those words left my mouth, I felt something shatter completely. Ethan’s face flushed bright red instantly, as if he had been deeply insulted. “Fine! Nice one, Summer! You think you’re so smart? Let’s get a divorce!” He screamed, grabbed his phone from the table, and stormed out of the house. The Sales Director, Victoria, frowned and tapped her fingers on the desk. “Look at the mess you’ve made! Look how angry you made Ethan!” “To minimize the fallout, you need to write a formal self-reflection letter.” “You will read it out loud at next week’s all-hands company meeting and apologize for your inappropriate conduct.” I looked at her, offering no response. Her eyes flickered with a brief moment of guilt before she quickly put on her authoritative director persona again. “This is an order. It’s also your only chance.” The next day, the company’s internal network and announcement boards published my disciplinary notice. The wording was harsh— “Conduct severely unbecoming,” “Lack of brand representation awareness,” and “Summer Miller is hereby demoted and stripped of her annual performance bonus as a final warning.” Every single word felt like a public slap in the face. Ava, a new hire, secretly sent me a message on SnapChat: “Summer, we all believe you. You were just saving a life. But… you should just take it for now. Victoria is on a rampage.” I turned off my phone screen. I knew exactly what was going on. Victoria’s niece, Sophie, who got in through nepotism, had just joined the company last week. Victoria had been trying to find a way to promote her to Sales Manager, replacing me. Ethan’s online tantrum gave her the perfect excuse. I walked back to my cubicle and opened my laptop. I organized every single detail of my major clients, contract terms, and follow-up plans, printing them out one by one. Then, I formatted all the client data and analytical reports saved on my local hard drive. A week later, at the company-wide all-hands meeting. Victoria stood on the stage, her voice booming through the microphone: “…In light of Summer Miller’s inappropriate conduct, the company has decided to disqualify her from the Sales Manager candidacy.” The auditorium fell dead silent. “Now, let’s give a warm welcome to our newly appointed Sales Manager, Sophie!” A young woman wearing a brand-new designer suit and perfectly styled hair stood up, nodding gracefully to the crowd with a smug smile. Victoria looked at her with pride and announced, “Starting today, Sophie will officially take over Summer’s core clients and projects.” I sat in the furthest corner of the room, my face completely expressionless.

Sophie walked up to my cubicle and tapped her manicured nails on my desk. “Hey, you can pack up your things now.” She lifted her chin, not bothering to hide her disdain. “Your new seat is over there in the corner. That’s where ordinary sales reps belong. Also, leave your work laptop here. I need to audit it to make sure you aren’t stealing department client data.” I looked up at her, said nothing, and began packing my few personal belongings into a cardboard box. As if that wasn’t enough, she added, “By the way, try to act a bit more professional in the department from now on. Don’t make everyone think you only close deals by getting lucky.” I stopped what I was doing and looked at her. “Then let me ask you: what is Nova Enterprises’ procurement focus and budget projection for this quarter?” Sophie’s face visibly stiffened. She stammered, “Well… that obviously needs to be analyzed based on their financial statements and industry trends… It’s, you know, that kind of…” I ignored her and went back to packing. Sensing she was making a fool of herself, she sneered and walked away. I couldn’t help but remember three years ago, when our CEO, Diana, personally headhunted me from our top competitor. She had held my hand and said, “Summer, join us. I will give you full autonomy. Your ability to close major clients will bring this company to new heights.” Looking back now, it was a complete joke. Since my demotion to a regular sales rep, my workload had decreased significantly. I no longer had to deal with high-maintenance VIP clients. I followed the standard procedures of a low-level employee—clocking in, writing daily logs, maintaining minor accounts, submitting reports on time, and leaving right at 5:00 PM. Yesterday, a major client had an emergency and needed a quick quote. A colleague habitually ran to me for help. I just took a brief glance at the file and said calmly, “Take it to Manager Sophie. She’s the leader now.” The colleague said anxiously, “But Sophie is locked in her office, saying she’s preparing an important presentation slide deck!” I didn’t say another word and walked straight out of the conference room. For the first time, I didn’t stay late to write proposals. Instead, I went to a local gym. I changed into my athletic gear, put on my headphones, and let out all my anger and frustration on the treadmill. The next morning, Sophie uploaded a document to our team’s whatsapp. The title read: *Pilot Proposal for Optimizing Sales Report Metrics and Enhancing Workflow Professionalism*. It was a fifteen-page PDF filled with convoluted charts and academic definitions, introducing a brand-new reporting template. It required everyone to spell out clients’ full legal corporate names, banned all common industry abbreviations, and demanded extensive data analysis and theoretical citations. The group chat instantly went quiet. A few seconds later, my private SnapChat exploded with messages from my colleagues: “Summer, what is this girl doing? Is she trying to make us write a college thesis?” “Is she insane? We are in sales! What is the point of these empty formatting rules?” “I met with a client today, and she insisted I call a ‘pricing quote’ a ‘Product-Service Value Proposition.’ The client looked at me like I was speaking alien!” “This isn’t ‘professionalism.’ This is just wasting time! By the time we finish this paperwork for an urgent client, the competitor will have already stolen the deal!” “She’s just one of those corporate pretenders who can only make pretty slides but has zero real-world capability!” I stared at Sophie’s condescending announcement on my phone and said nothing. A senior colleague privately messaged me, asking how to navigate some of the “standardized workflows” mentioned in the PDF. I patiently explained it to him in plain English, and then muted my phone. My complete hands-off approach and Sophie’s disastrous management created a stark contrast in the department. Before, I was the backbone of the team. No matter how difficult a client was, as long as I was there, everyone felt safe. Now, whenever a major client or an urgent order came in, the entire floor turned into a chaotic circus. Sophie would just stand by, shouting her useless “standardized script guidelines” to boss people around, but she never dared to pitch or talk to a client herself. Resentment grew among the staff. People started quietly reminiscing about my efficiency and leadership. I knew they were waiting—waiting for a real crisis to blow up in her face.

I submitted my request for paid time off to Victoria—thirty days in total, accumulated over five years of never taking a break. The moment she saw the form, her face darkened. “Summer, what is the meaning of this?” She slammed the paper onto her desk. “The department is understaffed right now. Taking such a long leave is a direct defiance of my management!” She lowered her voice, her tone dripping with venom. “Don’t think you’re safe just because you’re a regular sales rep now. Your career is still in my hands. If you push me, I can make sure you never get a job in this industry again. Keep this up, and it won’t just be a demotion. Believe me, I will fire you on the spot!” I remained silent. I pulled my recent medical report from my bag and laid it on her desk. “Victoria, I was diagnosed with cardiac arrhythmia last week. My doctor strongly advised me to rest.” My voice was dead calm. “Chronic high stress is bad for the heart. As my senior, I’m sure you understand that.” She picked up the report, her face turning pale and then red. She couldn’t find a single logical way to argue against a doctor’s note. “Hmph!” She let out a sharp sneer, grabbed her pen, and aggressively signed her name on my PTO form. Just as I turned to leave, Ethan walked into the office floor. He was holding Sophie’s hand, and he smirked when he saw me. “Well, look who it is. Our former star seller, Summer Miller. What’s wrong? One setback and you’re already running away like a coward?” Sophie added with a smug grin, “Some people just don’t have the skills or the mental strength for high-level corporate work. It’s natural selection.” Ethan chimed in, “Don’t think this company can’t run without you. Let me tell you, Sophie is ten times the leader you’ll ever be.” I didn’t waste a single second on them. I walked straight past them and headed out. The office manager caught up with me at the end of the hallway and shoved a cup of coffee into my hand. “Summer, do you remember the client you saved with CPR the other day?” I nodded. “That was Mr. Harrison, the founder of Nova Enterprises. His son, Liam, has been trying to get in touch with you to thank you properly.” The manager sighed. “But Victoria blocked his calls. She told him it was a team effort and praised Sophie’s leadership instead. You’re too soft, Summer. You need to learn to fight for your own credit.” I simply nodded and thought to myself, *That’s a thank-you gift they won’t be able to afford.* I boarded my flight to visit my parents in Chicago. Shortly after takeoff, while the plane was still taxiing, Ava called me, her voice trembling and on the verge of tears. “Summer! Oh my god, everything is ruined! Nova Enterprises’ core operating system just crashed! Their entire business is paralyzed!” My heart skipped a beat. “Sophie took over the account, but when she saw the crash, she thought it was just a simple server error. But because the system has a custom security encryption protocol, she was too scared to force a reboot! She’s been staring at her laptop, reading standard operating procedures, but she’s too terrified to make a call! She refused to hire external experts to save face, and now she actually suggested Nova Enterprises shut down their operations for three days!” Ava’s voice cracked. “Summer, that’s Nova Enterprises’ core system! Every single minute they are offline costs them millions! How could she suggest they shut down for three days?!” Right then, my call waiting beeped. It was Victoria. I hung up on Ava and took Victoria’s call. Victoria’s screech blasted through the speaker: “Summer Miller! Get your ass back to the office right now! If Nova Enterprises’ system is permanently damaged, I will destroy your career!” I pulled the phone away from my ear, waited for her to finish screaming, and then replied smoothly, “Victoria, first of all, I am on approved medical leave. Second, I am just a regular sales rep. I don’t have the security clearance or the capability to handle a crisis of this scale. Isn’t your brilliant, ivy-league niece Sophie the expert in solving these complex issues?” With that, I hung up.

Ava sent me another text on SnapChat, her words frantic: “Summer, the system crash caused a massive failure in one of Nova’s cross-border transactions! The estimated loss is over ten million dollars! Mr. Harrison is furious. He called Diana directly and demanded our company take full financial responsibility! The entire executive suite is losing their minds! Diana and all the VPs have just rushed down to our department!” A second later, another text popped up: “Victoria is already spreading rumors. She’s telling everyone that you secretly hid the encryption keys before you left to sabotage Sophie! She claims you knew about the vulnerability and stayed quiet just to watch Sophie fail!” I looked at my screen and let out a cold laugh. Their ability to shift blame was truly unparalleled. But before they could even handle the first fire, another broke out. The order database for another VIP client suddenly turned into corrupted code, and the office printers began frantically spitting out pages of gibberish. Ava’s live updates kept coming: “Sophie completely panicked and ordered the tech team to force-reboot the main servers! They did it multiple times, but the data is still corrupted! She even pointed the tech guys to the wrong backup directory, and when one of them tried to correct her, she screamed at him! The lead engineer says they have no choice but to activate the Disaster Recovery System. It’s our absolute last hope!” The Disaster Recovery System was a multi-million-dollar custom backup network the company had purchased from a European cybersecurity firm. It was our ultimate safety net. “Sophie went to launch the Disaster Recovery System, but the system failed to boot and started blasting warning alarms! She tried to bypass it by force-rebooting the hardware again! Summer, oh my god! The server rack is smoking!” Under Sophie’s reckless commands, the hardware let out a loud, high-pitched screech. The server screens flashed once and went completely black. The smell of burnt plastic filled the server room. The multi-million-dollar safety net was fried. Two catastrophic crises. One was losing millions by the minute due to delayed recovery; the other was on the verge of losing all VIP client data permanently. The furious demands of clients over the phone and the blaring alarms turned the sales department into a living hell. Diana, our CEO, looked so pale she looked like she might faint. Her hands shook as she personally called the cybersecurity vendor in Europe. The representative on the other end, speaking with a heavy accent, regretfully informed her that their lead engineers were currently on a project in Asia. The earliest they could fly out to New York was in two days. A heavy blanket of despair fell over the room. Just as Diana was about to hang up the phone in defeat, the vendor added, “Actually, you might want to contact one of the local consultants who helped us test and debug your system during the initial integration. I believe her name is Summer Miller, and she works at your company.” Diana’s hand froze mid-air. She snapped her head around, her eyes locking onto Victoria like a hawk. Victoria’s face turned white as a sheet. She knew better than anyone—the core integration engineer the vendor was talking about was the very person she had bullied, demoted, and forced onto a plane for a thirty-day leave. Me.

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My butler told his girlfriend that I was just a cheap mistress trying to sleep my way to the top! That day, I took my mother to The Zenith Club for dinner. I wanted her to try the new menu crafted by our newly hired French head chef. But the moment I pushed open the doors to my private VVIP suite, I froze. A woman in a neon pink minidress was lounging in my seat, her legs crossed. She was holding up her phone, filming an Instagram Live. “Look, guys! This is my boyfriend’s private dining room on the top floor of The Zenith Club. You can’t even book this place with money!” Seeing me walk in, she lowered her phone and sneered. “Who are you? You look so cheap. How did you even sneak in here?” I frowned. “Get out. This is my room.” She immediately stood up, strutted over to me, and poked her fake acrylic nail right into my shoulder. “Your room? Do you even know who owns this club? My boyfriend does!” Too bad her boyfriend was just my family’s butler. 1 I stared at her for a few seconds, and it suddenly clicked. This was Chloe Bennett, the girlfriend of my new estate manager, Ryan Miller. I took a deep breath, refusing to waste my energy arguing with her. I pulled out my phone and dialed Ryan’s number directly. “Ryan. Your girlfriend is in my private suite right now. Get up here and explain this. Now.” On the other end of the line, Ryan’s voice instantly went into a panic. “Miss Vance! I—I’ll be right there!” I hung up, leaned against the doorframe, and looked at Chloe coldly. Seeing that I had no intention of leaving, Chloe scoffed. “What? Still here? Waiting for my boyfriend to throw you out?” “Your boyfriend?” I looked at her. “He told you he owns this place?” Chloe raised her chin, her face full of smug pride. “Of course! Ryan told me the entire Zenith Club belongs to him. A cheap girl like you probably can’t even afford a basic membership. You don’t belong here.” I didn’t answer. I just watched her quietly. My silence made her uncomfortable. She huffed, “What are you staring at? Let me tell you, I’ve seen plenty of girls like you trying to hit on my boyfriend. You just want his money and power, right? Give it up. Ryan would never look at someone like you.” I still said nothing. She got bolder, stepping closer. “I heard you linger around the club every day, trying to ‘accidentally’ bump into him. How shameless. Ryan told me you’re just a desperate cleaning girl. He let you work here out of pity. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” A cleaning girl. I let out a cold laugh in my head. So that was what Ryan had been telling her. I never would have thought that as the founder of this elite private club franchise, I would be mistaken for a cleaning lady. And all of this was because I had soft spot for Arthur’s grandson. Arthur had been my family’s loyal butler for fifty years. He was honest, meticulous, and never caused any trouble. In half a century, he had never made a single mistake. He even hesitated for hours before accepting the holiday bonuses I handed him. Three months ago, Arthur was diagnosed with a severe joint condition and had to retire for long-term recovery. On his last day, he stood before me, rubbing his rough hands together. After hesitating for a long time, he finally asked, with an embarrassed look, if I could give his grandson, Ryan, a job, since Ryan had just been laid off. Arthur was an honest man who had never asked for a favor in his life. That was his first time. Out of respect for him, I agreed. For the first two months, Ryan did a decent job. He wasn’t as perfect as his grandfather, but he kept the mansion organized and handled my requests well enough. But a few days ago, Ryan came to me, rubbing his hands nervously. “Miss Vance, I started dating this girl. She’s from a really good background, and I wanted to treat her to a nice dinner at the club to impress her… Could I borrow a membership slot? Just once, I promise. It won’t affect you at all.” I looked at him. Arthur had asked me to look out for him, so I didn’t want to be too harsh. “Fine. Just this once.” Ryan thanked me profusely and left. But I didn’t expect that this “one-time favor” would turn into a disaster. The “one-time” dinner became a daily routine. Even after the suite incident, Chloe didn’t back down. Instead, she came even more frequently. Every single afternoon, she would show up at The Zenith Club, taking photos in various VIP rooms and posting them on her Snapchat. 2 At first, Chloe only liked taking photos and videos in the lobby to brag to her followers. I could understand that. A young girl’s vanity is normal. But what I couldn’t tolerate was the sheer disgust and contempt in Chloe’s eyes every time she saw me. It was as if I owed her millions. A few times, when I walked past her, she would violently spray perfume in my direction and complain loudly: “Ugh, this is supposed to be a high-end club. Why does it always smell like cheap trash?” I thought there was an actual odor, so I specifically told the club manager to do a deep clean and air purification. But she only got worse. She started sanitizing the sofas after I sat on them. She even pasted “Private Area” labels on the spots I frequently used. When I questioned Ryan about it, he would always apologize nervously in private: “Miss Vance, Chloe is just worried that the club’s environment isn’t clean enough. She wants to maintain the club’s high standards for you, so she’s extra obsessed with hygiene.” I didn’t think much of it then. I was too busy managing the expansion of our new branches. I didn’t have the energy to sweat the small stuff with a young girl. But now I realized she actually thought I was a cleaning girl trying to seduce her “CEO boyfriend”! While I was lost in my thoughts, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. Ryan ran in, panting heavily. When he saw my icy expression and then saw Chloe live-streaming in my suite, his face drained of all color. He rushed over to me, lowering his voice to a whisper only I could hear. “Miss Vance, I am so, so sorry! I didn’t explain things clearly to her. She got the wrong idea and thought I owned the club… Don’t worry, I’ll explain everything to her right now!” I looked at him coldly. “You better.” Ryan nodded frantically, then turned and walked into the suite. He grabbed Chloe and whispered to her. Chloe froze, glared at me, and reluctantly put away her phone before leaving with Ryan. Before he left, Ryan turned back to give me a pleading smile and mouthed, “Miss Vance, don’t worry. I’ll handle it.” Watching his retreating back, I felt a slight unease, but I shook it off. I shut the door and enjoyed dinner with my mother. I thought that was the end of it. Until one weekend, I decided to have my mother spend a few days at my suburban villa to relax. I called Ryan. “Ryan, my mother wants to stay at the villa for a couple of days. Can you clean it up? You have the keys, right?” The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, Ryan stammered, “Miss Vance… the villa has been empty for a while. It’s incredibly dusty. Why don’t you go in a couple of days? Let me send a cleaning crew first.” I frowned. “No need. I can tidy up myself. Just give me the keys. I’m taking my mother there today.” Ryan quickly said, “Miss Vance, how can I let you do that? You’re the boss. You shouldn’t be cleaning. Besides, the water and electricity need to be checked. What if something goes wrong? How about the day after tomorrow? I promise it will be spotless by then.” I felt suspicious, but I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. Ryan loved playing small tricks, but he wouldn’t dare lie about something like this. I hesitated but agreed. “Fine. Get it done quickly.” But the next day, Ryan called again, claiming the AC was broken and the technician wouldn’t be free for another two days. On the third day, he said a pipe in the yard was leaking, and the main valve had to be shut off, making the house uninhabitable. After three days of excuses, my suspicion peaked. I didn’t bother arguing. I drove my mother straight to the suburban villa. Arriving at the gates, I parked the car and told my mother, “Mom, go ahead and unlock the door first. I’ll park the car and catch up.” My mother nodded, got out of the car, and walked toward the front door with the keys. But the moment I turned off the engine, before I could even step out, I heard a sharp, loud slap from the villa. Then came my mother’s terrified cry. My heart stopped. I leapt out of the car and sprinted toward the entrance. The front door was wide open. My mother was sitting on the ground, clutching her face. Her eyes were red, and a trickle of blood was escaping the corner of her mouth. And Chloe was standing over her, hands on her hips, glaring down with pure disgust. “You old bag! Who gave you permission to touch my sofa? Do you know how expensive that leather is? You’ll ruin it with your dirty, cheap clothes!” I rushed in, helped my mother up, and glared at Chloe. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Chloe was taken aback to see me, but she quickly sneered. “Oh, look who it is. Another one? You must be this old woman’s daughter, right? Perfect. Take your mother and get out before she ruins my house!” I ignored her and checked my mother’s face. Half of her cheek was already swollen, with a clear handprint. Her knees were scraped and bleeding. I took a deep breath and looked around the room. 3 The living room didn’t look empty at all. It looked like it had been hijacked. The coffee table was piled high with takeout boxes, empty chips bags, and half-empty wine bottles. A few designer dresses and underwear were tossed over the sofa. The expensive rug was stained with red wine and cigarette burns. Seeing this, my fists clenched so hard my knuckles turned white. I had bought this villa specifically for my mother’s vacations. I had spent so much time and effort designing and furnishing it. I always kept it in pristine condition. Now, this trash of a human had ruined it. Chloe stood in front of me, looking down her nose. “You bitch. Seducing my boyfriend wasn’t enough? Now you’re bringing your decrepit mother to occupy his house?” “How dare an old hag like her step foot in my boyfriend’s villa!” I stared at her, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Who told you this is Ryan’s villa?” Chloe scoffed. “He did, obviously.” “You shameless slut. You saw that my boyfriend is the owner of the club, so you tried everything to seduce him, didn’t you?” “Clinging to him at the club wasn’t enough, so you brought your mother to his house to force your way in?” “Let me tell you, Ryan said he only let you work at the club out of pity! He would never be interested in a cheap girl like you. You think you can use your body to climb the ladder? In your dreams!” So Ryan had been telling her all of this. No wonder Chloe had treated me like garbage before. In her mind, Ryan was a wealthy CEO who drove hypercars and owned mansions. And I was just a desperate girl trying to sleep with her boyfriend to get a piece of his wealth. She thought I was stalking him, trying to take her place. How utterly pathetic. Chloe got louder and more hysterical. Her shrieks echoed through the villa. “You shameless home-wrecking bitch! You tried to steal my man, and now you’re bringing your mother to my doorstep? You think you can move in? Keep dreaming!” Her screaming was so loud it caught the attention of people outside. Footsteps hurried toward the house. Two neighborhood security guards ran in, followed by a few neighbors who had been woken up by the noise. A guard poked his head in, frowning. “What’s going on here?” Seeing an audience, Chloe instantly switched to victim mode. She pointed at me and cried to the guards and neighbors, “Thank god you’re here! This home-wrecker is trying to steal my boyfriend, and now she brought her mother to attack me in my own home! Please help me!” The guards and neighbors looked at me, then at the messy living room. Disgust filled their eyes. A neighbor curled her lip. “Gosh, young girls these days have no shame.” Another shook her head. “Unbelievable. The actual girlfriend lives here, and this girl brings her mother to cause a scene. How trashy.” The guard frowned at me. “Ma’am, you need to leave immediately, or we will call the police.” With the crowd backing her, Chloe’s confidence soared. She reached out and grabbed my collar. “Did you hear that? Even the guards and neighbors know you’re a shameless bitch!” Suddenly, her eyes locked onto my mother’s chest. Her eyes lit up. “This sapphire brooch looks expensive. You stole this too, didn’t you?” Before I could react, she let go of my collar, lunged at my mother, and violently ripped the brooch off her dress. Chloe’s movement was so sudden and violent that my mother couldn’t defend herself. The brooch was snatched away instantly. Seeing this, my heart stopped. “Give that back!” 4 Seeing my panic, Chloe let out a cruel laugh. “So nervous? This must be worth a fortune.” I panicked. “It’s not about the money. It belongs to my mother. Give it back now!” I lunged forward to grab it. That sapphire brooch was the engagement gift my late father had given to my mother. My father passed away from an illness when I was ten. My mother had worn it close to her heart every day since. It had never left her side. It was her only physical connection to my father. I would not let anyone destroy it! “Oh, you want it? Then watch me.” Before I could reach her, Chloe raised her arm and slammed the brooch onto the hardwood floor with all her might. With a sickening, sharp crack, the sapphire shattered. The blue shards scattered across the floor. “No!” My mother let out a heartbroken shriek. She collapsed onto the floor, scrambling desperately for the fragments. “Your father gave me this… this is all I have left of him…” Something snapped inside me. I raised my hand and slapped Chloe across the face. “You cheap bitch! How dare you strike me?” Chloe clutched her red cheek and screamed like a maniac. “I’m going to kill you, you home-wrecking whore!” She lunged at me, grabbing my hair and dragging me down to the floor. The guards and neighbors stood at the door, watching. No one stepped in to help. In their eyes, this was just a rightful girlfriend teaching a home-wrecker a lesson. Chloe pinned me to the floor, sitting on my waist. She slapped me repeatedly, screaming, “How dare you touch my man! How dare you!” My mother crawled over, trying to shield me with her body, crying, “Stop hitting my daughter! You have it all wrong! This is my daughter’s house!” Chloe kicked my mother away. “Shut up, you old liar! Your daughter is a cheap mistress! This house belongs to her? In your dreams!” I shook with rage, glaring at her through the pain. “You will regret this. I promise you.” Hearing this, the neighbors at the door laughed as if they had heard the funniest joke. “Oh, I’m shaking! Chloe’s boyfriend is the owner of The Zenith Club. Who do you think you are to make us regret anything?” “Exactly. You’re just a low-life employee who tries to sleep her way up. You sell your body for money, and you dare threaten us?” “A whore should know her place. You brought this on yourself.” Chloe yanked my hair back, forcing me to look up at her. She sneered, “Regret? I’ve never regretted anything in my life. Let’s see how you’re going to make me regret this, bitch!” I gritted my teeth, reached for my cracked phone on the floor, and dialed 91″Hello, I need to report an emergency. I have intruders in my private residence. They are assaulting me and my mother, and destroying priceless property. The address is…” Before I could finish, the roar of multiple engines echoed outside. Several black luxury SUVs screeched to a halt in front of the villa.

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I was at the hospital, handling my mother’s funeral, when my mafia husband’s first love sent me a video on Snapchat. In the video, an old woman in bloody rags, her head wrapped in a dirty scarf, was screaming in agony inside a guard dog kennel. “Chloe, your slum-trash mother actually dared to come to my club to blackmail us? I’ve thrown her to the mastiffs. Damian said it himself—garbage belongs in the trash.” I stared at the screen, completely frozen. My mother, Helen, had passed away from her illness weeks ago. Today was the day of her funeral. So… Who was the dying old woman in the video? Suddenly, as the camera shook, I caught a glimpse of a black stone necklace around her neck. It was—the Sinclair matriarch’s obsidian crest pendant. I didn’t dare waste a second. Staring intensely at the obsidian pendant in the video, I immediately called Damian. The phone rang for a long time before Damian picked up, his voice dripping with impatience. “Chloe, I told you not to bother me tonight. I’m busy.” “Damian, something terrible has happened!” My voice was shaking. “Vanessa locked your mother in the dog kennel at the club! She’s being torn apart by the dogs. You need to send someone to save her right now—” Damian cut me off, his voice ice-cold. “Enough! Chloe, have you lost your mind?!” “Chloe, did you forget your place? You’re nothing but collateral for your gambling addict father’s debts.” Each of his words stabbed into my chest like a knife. “Just to get me to look at you, you’d actually lie about your own mother’s death. And when you saw I didn’t buy it, you started trying to frame Vanessa!” “Chloe, you are truly disgusting.” I froze in place. “I am not lying. My mother is dead. The woman in that video is wearing the Sinclair matriarch’s pendant!” “Shut up!” Damian snapped. “You don’t deserve to mention my mother. She’s been recovering in Europe for years and only flew back tonight. To feed your petty jealousy, you’d actually curse my mother? Are you trying to die?” “Vanessa runs the club for me. She can punish whoever she wants. Stop trying to make a scene.” I gripped my phone so hard my knuckles turned white. Yes, I was given to him to settle a debt. For the past two years, I had worked myself to the bone, silently enduring his humiliation. But I was not so pathetic that I would use a parent’s death to beg for his affection. My heart went completely cold. “Damian, your mother looks severely injured. I suggest you send someone to take her to the hospital immediately, or you will regret this for the rest of your life.” Damian instantly flared up. “Regret? In the entire city of New York, there is nothing Damian Sinclair regrets!” “I’ve already sent a car to the airport to pick up my mother. Once her homecoming party is over, I’ll deal with you.” With that, Damian hung up on me. A few minutes later, I saw Vanessa post a status on Instagram. It was just one short sentence: *“Today, the mother of the man I love is coming back to the country. What kind of gift should I prepare for her?”* I silently liked the post. No need to prepare anything, Vanessa. You’ve already given her a “grand gift” she’ll remember for the rest of her life. I couldn’t help but feel a sick curiosity. When Damian finds out his mother was thrown into a dog kennel by Vanessa, how will he react?

At dusk, I returned to Damian’s hilltop estate. Armed guards in black suits lined the road up the mountain. Security was incredibly tight. Inside the estate, the courtyard was already filled with fresh flowers and balloons. The made men of Damian’s syndicate stood in a massive, dark crowd. When they saw me walk in, their expressions became complicated. I walked further into the courtyard, only to notice a tightly tied burlap sack sitting in the corner! Seeing that sack made my entire body go rigid. Right then, Vanessa walked up to me, putting on a victim act. “Chloe, I originally just wanted to lock your mother in the basement to teach her a lesson.” “But then I thought, since Damian’s mother is coming home today, maybe they should meet. Don’t you think?” So, the person inside that sack was Damian’s mother? My heart hammered against my ribs. I opened my mouth to speak. But Damian stepped forward, wrapping his arm around Vanessa’s waist, and comforted her softly. “Vanessa, you’re always so thoughtful.” “Though… my mother probably wouldn’t care to look at a piece of trash like her anyway.” With that, Damian turned his dark, cold gaze toward me. “Chloe, look at what your mother did.” “Not only did she exhaust Vanessa today, but she also ruined the homecoming party I personally prepared for my mother.” My body trembled. I wanted to rush over and rip open the sack to save her. But before I could even take a step, several bodyguards surrounded me, brutally pinning me to the ground and tying my hands with heavy rope. I struggled to lift my head, my eyes burning red as I stared at the sack. “Damian, I advise you to take a good look at who is actually inside that sack!” Damian frowned. “Isn’t it just your mother? What is there to look at?” “I don’t want to dirty my eyes.” Beside him, his right-hand man, Marcus, chimed in with deep disdain. “Boss spent weeks setting up this estate to welcome his mother. She hasn’t even arrived yet, and you and your mother are already ruining things. Aren’t you disgusted with yourself?” “If you ask me, we should just throw her back in the dog kennel to save us the embarrassment.” “Did you really start believing you’re Mrs. Sinclair? Vanessa is the true future lady of this family.”

Seeing that Damian and Marcus were firmly on Vanessa’s side, the other syndicate members quickly took the cue to show their loyalty. “Exactly. A woman like that should be put in a sack and thrown to the dogs.” “Embarrassing us in front of the crew is one thing. If she does this in public, the whole city will be laughing at the Boss.” “Seriously. People who don’t know any better would think the Sinclair family runs a homeless shelter.” “So Vanessa handled this perfectly. She solved a long-term headache for the family.” In an instant, everyone was singing Vanessa’s praises. It was as if the person dying in that sack was some heinous criminal, and Vanessa was a hero protecting the Sinclair family. Vanessa shot me a smug, triumphant look. But a second later, she turned to Damian with a timid, fragile expression. “But Damian, she is Chloe’s mother after all. What if Chloe tries to sue me or cause trouble later?” Damian looked at her with pure tenderness. “Don’t worry. As long as I’m here, no one can touch you.” With that, Damian called his lawyer on the spot to draft a liability waiver and release form, tossing it in front of me. “Chloe, your mother brought this on herself by coming to the club to blackmail us. You can’t blame Vanessa for this.” “For the sake of our marriage, I won’t press charges against your mother for extortion or for ruining my mother’s party.” “Just sign this waiver, and I’ll have someone take your mother to the hospital immediately.” Marcus crossed his arms, looking down at me arrogantly. “Chloe, your mom dug her own grave. Don’t you dare try to extort Vanessa. Be smart and sign the waiver.” He commanded me to sign it with absolute authority. But I simply pushed the paper back toward Damian and said calmly, “If anyone is going to sign this, it should be Damian. I have no right to sign it.”

Damian thought I was just being stubborn. His voice dropped dangerously. “Chloe, don’t push your luck.” “Your mother came to blackmail us. We could have easily ended her, but Vanessa was kind enough to spare her life. Are you really going to sit there and watch your mother die?” Marcus sneered, “Exactly. Your mother deserved it. Vanessa is way too soft-hearted.” “Instead of thanking her, you’re trying to play games?” I explained calmly, “You’re misunderstanding me. What I mean is, the person in that sack is Damian’s mother. He is the only one who can sign this waiver.” “Damian, I am warning you one last time. You better send the person in that sack to the hospital right now, or she is going to die right in front of you.” Hearing this, Marcus lost his temper. “Chloe, are you insane? How dare you curse the Matriarch at her own homecoming party?” Damian was furious. “Chloe, it seems I’ve spoiled you too much over the years. You’ve become so arrogant that you don’t even know how to respect your elders.” “Do you want to see if I can make sure your mother never leaves this mountain alive?” He turned around and roared at the bodyguards, “Take that old trash and throw her back into the dog kennel!” The bodyguard hesitated, glancing at me. “Sir… is that really a good idea?” Damian roared, “She refused to sign the waiver, didn’t she? She likes cursing my mother? Today, I’ll show her exactly what happens when you disrespect my family!” Seeing Damian’s rage, the bodyguard didn’t dare disobey. He immediately went to carry out the order. The guests around us shook their heads, whispering among themselves. “Chloe has crossed the line this time. She touched the Boss’s red line.” “Seriously. Back when the old Boss was assassinated, it was Lady Eleanor who held the family syndicate together. She only went to Europe to recover because of old injuries. Everyone knows the Boss cares about his mother more than anything. Chloe must be suicidal to curse her today.” “Her poor mother. Imagine having such a heartless daughter. No parent could live long with a child like that.” The whispers were incredibly harsh. But they didn’t affect me at all. I ignored everyone and locked eyes with Damian, speaking slowly. “Damian, are you absolutely sure you want to go this far?” Damian looked down at me with cold disgust. “Chloe, you brought this on yourself.” “Your mother got what she deserved.” “You shouldn’t have brought your bad luck and curses to my mother’s celebration.” “If it weren’t for our history, I would have thrown you into the kennel with her!” Just as the words left his mouth, two guards walked in, escorting a middle-aged man in a white lab coat and glasses. The man saw me and immediately spoke up. “Miss Chloe, I’m here to deliver your mother’s personal belongings.”

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My husband, Ethan Vance, suffered from severe panic disorder. Whenever his phone rang, he would experience uncontrollable heart palpitations and tremors. Because of this, his phone was permanently on silent. I had been with him for five years, and in every single moment I desperately needed him, he was unreachable. When I was sick and called him, the phone only ever went straight to voicemail. On our anniversary, I waited at the restaurant until closing time, but I couldn’t get hold of him no matter how hard I tried. He even missed my father’s funeral, claiming he hadn’t felt his phone vibrate and forgot the time. In the beginning, I had screamed, cried, and fought. But then he would bring out his medical diagnosis, kneeling on the floor in sheer agony, weeping and begging for my forgiveness. My heart broke for his pain. So, I forced myself to get used to his constant absence. Until today. I was five months pregnant, on my way to a routine prenatal checkup, when a car brutally T-boned my taxi. Covered in blood, I called Ethan 126 times. Every single call went unanswered. Meanwhile, Chloe Miller—my best friend and the driver who had caused the crash—stumbled out of her car in a panic. She pulled out her phone and made a single call. In less than ten minutes, Ethan arrived at the scene. At that exact moment, the harsh truth shattered my world: Ethan hadn’t muted his phone. He had only muted me.

“Baby, don’t worry. I’m here. I’ll handle everything.” Ethan comforted a sobbing Chloe, gently rubbing her back before finally walking over to the wrecked taxi. Only then did he notice me, drenched in blood, slumped in the backseat. When his eyes met my bloodshot, wild stare, a flash of intense guilt flickered in the depths of his eyes. He panicked and reached out to check my wounds, but I flinched, dragging my broken body away from his touch. His brows furrowed, an impatient scowl instantly replacing his worry. “Serena, stop throwing a tantrum. This is not the time.” “Chloe doesn’t know she was the one who hit you. You must not tell her.” “Otherwise, she will be consumed by guilt.” I had almost lost my life in the crash, yet his very first thought was to protect Chloe from feeling bad. I opened my mouth, wanting to scream, to ask him why I was the only one on mute, but a sharp, tearing pain suddenly ripped through my lower abdomen. I felt a warm, terrifying gush of fluid flowing out of me. Instinctively, I grabbed the hem of Ethan’s coat. “It hurts, Ethan… Save me… Our baby… I think our baby is…” The ambulance, which the taxi driver had called for me, finally arrived, sirens blaring. Watching the paramedics rush out with a stretcher, I dragged myself toward them with everything I had. For my baby, I had to fight, even if it meant crawling through the dirt. But right as my hand was about to reach the stretcher, Ethan stepped in front of me, blocking my path. He pointed at Chloe, who was sitting comfortably in his passenger seat, and spoke to the medics with absolute authority. “That lady over there has a congenital heart condition. She needs to go to the hospital for an emergency evaluation right now.” Then, he casually pointed back at me. “As for her, she’s always been incredibly healthy. She once walked home in a freezing storm for two hours and didn’t even catch a cold.” “She can wait for the next ambulance.” I stared at Ethan, completely paralyzed by shock. My throat felt like it was swallowing hot coals. Using every ounce of strength left in my lungs, I let out a guttural scream. “Ethan Vance, are you insane?! Chloe is perfectly fine! I am pregnant with your child!” The paramedic nearby was sweating with anxiety. She knelt down, quickly assessed my condition, and warned Ethan with an urgent tone. “Sir, this lady is bleeding heavily from her lower body. She is showing clear signs of an impending miscarriage. Her situation is extremely critical. She must go first!” Yet, there was not a single hint of pity in Ethan’s eyes. He didn’t even look down at me. His voice was freezing cold and unyielding. “I know my wife. She has a strong constitution. She can hold on.” “I am her legal guardian and husband. If anything goes wrong, I will take full responsibility.” Having no choice, the paramedics had to follow his orders. They pushed the stretcher toward Chloe. They carefully secured her inside. The ambulance siren wailed again, cold and piercing. Ethan followed her in. Right before stepping into the vehicle, he finally threw a pitiful glance back at me. “Serena, just wait here. We’ll meet at the hospital later.” I froze on the wet asphalt, my body turning cold as ice. Every breath I took felt like inhaling glass. By the time the second ambulance arrived, the pain had pushed me to the brink of consciousness. Inside the emergency room, a nurse ran around frantically, holding a consent form. “The patient is hemorrhaging! We can’t save the fetus. We need to perform an emergency D&C procedure immediately, or she will go into hemorrhagic shock! Where is her family?!” But at that moment, Ethan was in the VIP wing, keeping Chloe company during her full-body scan. The hospital intercom blared over and over. “Will the family of patient Serena Vance please come to the emergency room immediately to sign the surgical consent form!” The announcement echoed clearly throughout the entire diagnostic building. Ethan froze. He instinctively stood up, an ominous feeling creeping into his heart. He took a step, wanting to head down to the ER to check on me. But before he could take another step, a warm, delicate hand tightly grabbed his wrist.

Chloe leaned weakly against the back of the chair, her voice trembling with tears. “Ethan, my chest feels so tight. Please don’t leave me.” She looked up at him with tearful, puppy-dog eyes, though a malicious glint flashed in the dark. “Besides, ‘Serena’ is a very common name. It’s probably someone else.” “Serena only went for a routine prenatal checkup today. Why would she need emergency surgery? The hospital must have made a mistake.” A few simple, groundless words were all it took to put Ethan’s mind at ease. He gripped her hand back, squeezing it reassuringly. “You’re right. It’s probably just a coincidence. Don’t be scared, I’ll stay with you.” Down in the emergency room, the intercom kept calling my name, but my husband never showed up. The nurse was drenched in sweat. Seeing my bleeding grow worse by the second, she knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She leaned over and looked at my deathly pale face. “Ma’am, we can’t reach your husband. It’s too dangerous to wait. By law, in an emergency, the patient can sign for themselves. Can you hold a pen?” Waves of agony tore through my abdomen. I forced my eyes open, and with the absolute last drop of my strength, I scribbled my name on the paper. The surgical lights were blindingly white, casting a cold, clinical glow over my freezing body. My baby is leaving me. My heart shattered into a million pieces. At that moment, I knew. This man, this marriage—I was done. I didn’t know how much time had passed before I finally woke up. When I opened my eyes, the room was empty. My phone buzzed. There were two texts from Ethan sitting quietly on my Snapchat. “You only have a few scratches. Just get them bandaged and go home.” “Chloe still has a few tests to run. She’s unfamiliar with this hospital, so I’m going to stay and help her out. I’ll be home late.” This was the first time Ethan had ever sent me such a long message, yet every single word was about another woman. But right before I lost consciousness, I had clearly heard the doctor tell Chloe that all her vitals were perfectly normal and she could go home. It was Ethan who insisted on paying out-of-pocket for a luxury private suite just so she could be hospitalized. Just then, a nurse walked in with a billing statement. “Mrs. Vance, given your condition, you need to stay in the hospital for at least a week.” “Could you please settle the initial deposit?” I pulled out my phone to pay, only to remember that I had spent all my savings on the down payment for the new car Chloe was driving. Currently, my bank account balance was exactly $35. When we got the car, Ethan had claimed his money was locked in long-term investments. He asked me to pay first, promising he’d pay me back double later. He had also promised to be my personal chauffeur so I’d never have to take a taxi in the rain again. Yet, since the day we bought that car, I hadn’t ridden in it even once. Whenever I asked to drive it, he would make up various excuses. He said my driving skills were terrible and that I would scratch it. But Chloe had only gotten her driver’s license yesterday. And today, he had handed over my car to let her “practice.” My chest heaved violently as I fought down the raging fire in my chest. I dialed Ethan’s number. Just like every other time over the past five years, it went straight to voicemail. The nurse stood there, holding the bill, looking at me with awkward pity. Left with no choice, I called Chloe. The call was answered almost instantly. Before I could even speak, I heard a faint rustling sound over the line, and in the next second, a familiar, icy male voice spoke. Ethan had snatched the phone away.

I could clearly hear his footsteps as he walked away, deliberately distancing himself from Chloe. Then, his lowered, angry hiss came through the speaker. “Serena, I didn’t think you could be this malicious.” “Using such a pathetic, low-life trick to harass Chloe just to make her feel guilty?” “I suggest you put away your petty jealousy. Your constant, unreasonable tantrums are only making me detest you more.” Listening to his blind, unjust accusations, a wave of nausea washed over me. “Ethan, I am in Room 702, Building 3. Come here and pay my hospital bill. You have ten minutes.” I paused, my voice cold and sharp as glass. “If you aren’t here in ten minutes, I won’t hesitate to tell Chloe everything.” I could hear his heavy, furious breathing on the other end. “Serena, do you always have to be this incredibly demanding?” After a few seconds of tense silence, he spat out, “Don’t you dare bother Chloe. I’m coming.” Less than ten minutes later, the door to my hospital room was violently slammed open. Ethan stood there, his face clouded with residual rage, the air around him suffocatingly cold. He walked straight to the nurse, scanned the QR code, and paid the bill without a second thought. Looking down at the receipt, his brows knitted together in annoyance. “What kind of tests did you even run? It’s just a few scratches. Why does it cost this much?” I lay on the bed, quietly staring at the man I had loved for five years, watching the very last drop of my affection dry up. I slowly looked up, my eyes dead. “The baby is gone. I just had an emergency D&C.” Ethan froze. A flicker of shock crossed his face. But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared. He didn’t believe me at all. He assumed I was using the baby to gain sympathy. “Serena, can you please stop lying about things like this? You really will do anything just to get my attention, won’t you?” “It was probably just a tiny bit of spotting, and you insisted on getting hospitalized.” “Chloe’s heart was acting up, and her condition was critical. I couldn’t just abandon her.” “After all, she’s been your best friend for twelve years.” Seeing how his entire mind and soul were wrapped around another woman, I suddenly felt incredibly exhausted. “Ethan, let’s get a divorce.” “Since you think Chloe is so perfect, I’m stepping aside to let you two be together.” Ethan’s hand froze on the door handle. He turned around, staring at me with utter disbelief. “What did you just say?” “I said, I want a divorce.” I pronounced every single word clearly, cold and resolute. Ethan stared at me for a long time, as if trying to figure out if I was bluffing. Suddenly, he let out a mocking laugh. “Serena, do you seriously think this is funny?” “Who would even want a secondhand woman like you if you leave me?” “Is this all because I put you on silent? Are you seriously throwing a fit over this?” “Stop blaming me for everything. Look at yourself first.” “Every time I reply to one of your texts, you just keep spamming me. You want to share every single mundane detail of your day.” “Your ‘love’ has become a suffocating burden. It’s annoying. Do you have any idea how annoying you are?” It felt as though a thousand needles were piercing my heart, making it impossible to breathe. So… that was how he had viewed me all along. Seeing my silence, he assumed I had backed down. He delivered a cold, final warning. “Lest you forget, your grandmother is only clinging to life because of the elite medical specialists I hired.” “I suggest you don’t push my patience.” My chest tightened violently, and the blood in my veins ran cold.

Grandma Helen was my only living relative in this world. She was severely ill and bedridden, relying entirely on the top-tier medical team Ethan’s connections had secured. Over the years, even though I had saved up and paid every single penny of her medical bills myself, never taking a dime from Ethan, I couldn’t deny the fact that I could never have secured this elite medical network on my own. I couldn’t risk her life. I didn’t dare to. Seeing me go pale and speechless, triumph practically overflowed in Ethan’s eyes. He reached out, casually tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “Take back what you said about the divorce. Discharge yourself tomorrow morning.” “Go home and clean up the master bedroom.” “Chloe’s emotional state has been very unstable. She’ll be staying with us for a while, and I expect you to take good care of her.” I lay on the bed, my eyes vacant and hopeless, and gave a numb nod. The next day, dragging my weak, aching body, I discharged myself and slowly crawled back to the house I had called home for five years. Enduring the physical agony, I quietly packed up all my belongings from the master bedroom and moved them, piece by piece, into the small, dark guest room. Around dusk, Ethan sent me a Snapchat. “Make some of Chloe’s favorite dishes. We’re on our way back.” For Grandma’s sake, I did as I was told. Soon, Chloe walked in, delicately leaning on Ethan’s arm. Looking at the table full of food, she put on her sweetest, most innocent act. “Thank you so much, Serena.” “And I’m so sorry… I only just found out today that the person I hit yesterday was you.” “It’s all Ethan’s fault. He insisted I practice driving. He even said it was lucky that it was you, otherwise we would have had to pay a fortune in damages.” An uneasy look flashed in Ethan’s eyes. “I was afraid you’d run your mouth, so I told Chloe beforehand.” “Besides, you only got a scratch. If it were anyone else, Chloe would be devastated right now.” Hearing the warning in his voice, I merely gave a silent nod. The two of them sat side-by-side at the dining table, while I stood on the other side, looking like a complete stranger in my own home. Right as I turned to leave, Chloe suddenly clutched her chest and began coughing violently. Ethan rushed to her side, panic written all over his face. “What’s wrong, Chloe? You were fine just a second ago!” Chloe looked up, her eyes swimming with tears. “Serena… you know I am severely allergic to ginger. Why did you put ginger in the food?” The moment she finished speaking— SLAP! A hard, ringing slap landed brutally on my face. The force was so immense that my lip split, and blood trickled down my chin. Ethan’s eyes were filled with nothing but pure rage for Chloe. “Serena, how can you be this evil? Chloe is already so weak, and you tried to poison her on purpose?!” “Apologize to Chloe right now, and then we are going to the hospital!” I gripped the edge of the dining table to keep myself upright. “I didn’t put any ginger in the food!” “If you don’t believe me, go look in the kitchen yourself. There isn’t even a piece of ginger skin in there!” But in Ethan’s eyes, my defense was nothing but shameless lying. He didn’t even want to look at me. He whipped out his phone and dialed the private hospice center’s number. “As of this moment, terminate all medical care and treatments for Serena’s grandmother.” My eyes widened in absolute horror. The sheer shock drained all the strength from my legs, and I collapsed heavily to the floor. I crawled to Ethan’s feet, desperately grabbing his trousers. “Ethan, I was wrong! I’m sorry! Please, I beg you, don’t stop Grandma’s treatment…” “Chloe, I’m sorry! It was all my fault! I’ll kneel and beg, I’m so sorry!” Ethan kicked me away without mercy. “Now you know how to apologize? Too late.” Without another glance, he scooped Chloe up in his arms and walked out, slamming the door. I ran like a madwoman to my grandmother’s hospice care. But when I arrived, the doctor looked at me, shaking his head with sorrow. “I’m so sorry, Ms. Vance. Because the private life-support equipment was abruptly cut off and the specialized medications were stopped, your grandmother suffered sudden cardiac arrest during the emergency transfer. She passed away ten minutes ago.” I stood frozen in the corridor. I didn’t scream, I didn’t cry. It was as if all the energy had been permanently drained from my body. I gently took Grandma’s cold, withered hand. There was no warmth left in her palm. She would never gently stroke my head again, and she would never softly call me her sweet girl anymore. In just two days, I had lost my baby, and now, my grandmother. Over the next few days, I lived like a walking corpse, quietly arranging my grandmother’s funeral. Before I left, I placed the signed divorce papers on the kitchen island. I took one last look at the house I had lived in for five years, turned around, and walked away without a single shred of regret. On the other side of town, while Ethan was paying for Chloe’s hospital discharge fees, a medical report slipped out of his coat pocket. He remembered he had casually shoved it in there when he paid my bill the other day. For some inexplicable reason, his heart began to race. As he unfolded the paper and read the words, he froze.

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